Antique brass cabinet pulls
s/k/ill issue
2023.03.21 20:36 Dashlander8888 s/k/ill issue
submitted by Dashlander8888 to 4chan [link] [comments]
2023.03.21 20:21 Willzile1 The Cicatrix: Chapter 4
"I wanted to talk to you about what we found on the station, your hunch was right, it was the creed that attacked it" Jake says furrowing his brow.
"How recent was the attack?" Houston asks.
"Very, most of the station still had power, they probably just got done looting it or are coming back to finish the job" Jake responds.
"They must be getting bolder, the creed would have never tried attacking this far in before." Houston says, his face hardening, "thought I saw enough of those bolt brains when I left the military. The fact this particular pocket of Creed is strong enough to launch an assault on a small station is a big concern. I thought most of the forces that could do any real damage got destroyed in the AI war."
"Well, we can talk about this later. Welcome to the armory, if we're going on any dangerous excursions or the ship gets boarded this is where you can find weapons to defend yourself. It also houses my collection" Jake says gesturing to the wall filled with firearms of various calibers. "These ones here are my favorites." Jake motions to a section of the wall with antique looking firearms.
"So, who is that in the photo?" L3-0N says pointing at the back wall.
"That is the greatest man in the galaxy; John Moses Browning, the father of modern firearms" Jake says with a grin. "I have some of his creations in my collection: the Auto 5, BAR, and of course my sidearm; the M1911." Pointing out each weapon as he says its name. "We, of course, have more modern armaments for you to use. You do know how to fire a gun, right?"
"No, I was never trained on how to use a gun." L3-0N says.
"Well I would be happy to teach you when we find somewhere with a range." Jake says.
"Well, that can wait. I would like to get us out of here, especially if The Creed is in the area," Houston says, "I'll show you the cockpit as I get us out of here."
Houston and L3-0N move to the front of the ship where the cockpit lies. Inside are seats for a pilot and co-pilot surrounded with various flight instruments, a 3D radar sits between the seats showing other objects relative to the ship’s position. The radar shows that the Cicatrix is docked to a station named ParkStation.
Houston takes a seat in the pilot’s chair and begins pressing the various instruments in the cockpit. “Releasing docking clamps” a harsh “beep” is heard as the Cicatrix begins drifting away from ParkStation. “Alright! Now to get to a safe distance before we start the long journey back to Mars” Houston says.
An object appears on the edge of the 3D radar below the ship, beginning its approach to the station. “Oh shit, if that is what I think it is you may want to go make sure the engine doesn't explode L3.” Houston says gripping the controls.
“On it captain” L3-0N says rushing out of the cockpit.
“Jake we have potential hostiles, get up here and help me” Houston says through the intercom. The object on the radar is still making its steady approach, finally getting within visual range.
“I’m here, what’s the situation?” Jake says, rushing into the co-pilot's seat.
Houston pulls up the visual feed of the approaching object, its brick looking ship with holes for boarding pods, point defense turrets run along its hull, and bearing the insignia of the iron creed: a ring of 14 gears around a picture of a large red mechanical eye.
Finally have faces to names, er insignia to names. The creed rear their cybernetic heads to attack our protagonists.
submitted by Willzile1 to HFY [link] [comments]
"How recent was the attack?" Houston asks.
"Very, most of the station still had power, they probably just got done looting it or are coming back to finish the job" Jake responds.
"They must be getting bolder, the creed would have never tried attacking this far in before." Houston says, his face hardening, "thought I saw enough of those bolt brains when I left the military. The fact this particular pocket of Creed is strong enough to launch an assault on a small station is a big concern. I thought most of the forces that could do any real damage got destroyed in the AI war."
"Well, we can talk about this later. Welcome to the armory, if we're going on any dangerous excursions or the ship gets boarded this is where you can find weapons to defend yourself. It also houses my collection" Jake says gesturing to the wall filled with firearms of various calibers. "These ones here are my favorites." Jake motions to a section of the wall with antique looking firearms.
"So, who is that in the photo?" L3-0N says pointing at the back wall.
"That is the greatest man in the galaxy; John Moses Browning, the father of modern firearms" Jake says with a grin. "I have some of his creations in my collection: the Auto 5, BAR, and of course my sidearm; the M1911." Pointing out each weapon as he says its name. "We, of course, have more modern armaments for you to use. You do know how to fire a gun, right?"
"No, I was never trained on how to use a gun." L3-0N says.
"Well I would be happy to teach you when we find somewhere with a range." Jake says.
"Well, that can wait. I would like to get us out of here, especially if The Creed is in the area," Houston says, "I'll show you the cockpit as I get us out of here."
Houston and L3-0N move to the front of the ship where the cockpit lies. Inside are seats for a pilot and co-pilot surrounded with various flight instruments, a 3D radar sits between the seats showing other objects relative to the ship’s position. The radar shows that the Cicatrix is docked to a station named ParkStation.
Houston takes a seat in the pilot’s chair and begins pressing the various instruments in the cockpit. “Releasing docking clamps” a harsh “beep” is heard as the Cicatrix begins drifting away from ParkStation. “Alright! Now to get to a safe distance before we start the long journey back to Mars” Houston says.
An object appears on the edge of the 3D radar below the ship, beginning its approach to the station. “Oh shit, if that is what I think it is you may want to go make sure the engine doesn't explode L3.” Houston says gripping the controls.
“On it captain” L3-0N says rushing out of the cockpit.
“Jake we have potential hostiles, get up here and help me” Houston says through the intercom. The object on the radar is still making its steady approach, finally getting within visual range.
“I’m here, what’s the situation?” Jake says, rushing into the co-pilot's seat.
Houston pulls up the visual feed of the approaching object, its brick looking ship with holes for boarding pods, point defense turrets run along its hull, and bearing the insignia of the iron creed: a ring of 14 gears around a picture of a large red mechanical eye.
2023.03.21 20:19 Willzile1 The Cicatrix: Part 4
[Previous] [First] [Next]
"I wanted to talk to you about what we found on the station, your hunch was right, it was the creed that attacked it" Jake says furrowing his brow.
"How recent was the attack?" Houston asks.
"Very, most of the station still had power, they probably just got done looting it or are coming back to finish the job" Jake responds.
"They must be getting bolder, the creed would have never tried attacking this far in before." Houston says, his face hardening, "thought I saw enough of those bolt brains when I left the military. The fact this particular pocket of Creed is strong enough to launch an assault on a small station is a big concern. I thought most of the forces that could do any real damage got destroyed in the AI war."
"Well, we can talk about this later. Welcome to the armory, if we're going on any dangerous excursions or the ship gets boarded, this is where you can find weapons to defend yourself. It also houses my collection" Jake says, gesturing to the wall filled with firearms of various calibers. "These ones here are my favorites." Jake motions to a section of the wall with antique looking firearms.
"So, who is that in the photo?" L3-0N says pointing at the back wall.
"That is the greatest man in the galaxy; John Moses Browning, the father of modern firearms" Jake says with a grin. "I have some of his creations in my collection: the Auto 5, BAR, and of course my sidearm; the M1911." Pointing out each weapon as he says its name. "We, of course, have more modern armaments for you to use. You do know how to fire a gun, right?"
"No, I was never trained on how to use a gun." L3-0N says.
"Well I would be happy to teach you when we find somewhere with a range." Jake says.
"Well, that can wait. I would like to get us out of here, especially if The Creed is in the area," Houston says, "I'll show you the cockpit as I get us out of here."
Houston and L3-0N move to the front of the ship where the cockpit lies. Inside are seats for a pilot and co-pilot surrounded with various flight instruments, a 3D radar sits between the seats showing other objects relative to the ship’s position. The radar shows that the Cicatrix is docked to a station named ParkStation.
Houston takes a seat in the pilot’s chair and begins pressing the various instruments in the cockpit. “Releasing docking clamps” a harsh “beep” is heard as the Cicatrix begins drifting away from ParkStation. “Alright! Now to get to a safe distance before we start the long journey back to Mars” Houston says.
An object appears on the edge of the 3D radar below the ship, beginning its approach to the station. “Oh shit, if that is what I think it is you may want to go make sure the engine doesn't explode L3.” Houston says gripping the controls.
“On it captain” L3-0N says rushing out of the cockpit.
“Jake we have potential hostiles, get up here and help me” Houston says through the intercom. The object on the radar is still making its steady approach, finally getting within visual range.
“I’m here, what’s the situation?” Jake says, rushing into the co-pilot's seat.
Houston pulls up the visual feed of the approaching object, its brick looking ship with holes for boarding pods, point defense turrets run along its hull, and bearing the insignia of the iron creed: a ring of 14 gears around a picture of a large red mechanical eye.
Finally have faces to names, er insignia to names. The creed rear their cybernetic heads to attack our protagonists.
[Previous] [First] [Next]
submitted by Willzile1 to TheWorldMaker [link] [comments]
"I wanted to talk to you about what we found on the station, your hunch was right, it was the creed that attacked it" Jake says furrowing his brow.
"How recent was the attack?" Houston asks.
"Very, most of the station still had power, they probably just got done looting it or are coming back to finish the job" Jake responds.
"They must be getting bolder, the creed would have never tried attacking this far in before." Houston says, his face hardening, "thought I saw enough of those bolt brains when I left the military. The fact this particular pocket of Creed is strong enough to launch an assault on a small station is a big concern. I thought most of the forces that could do any real damage got destroyed in the AI war."
"Well, we can talk about this later. Welcome to the armory, if we're going on any dangerous excursions or the ship gets boarded, this is where you can find weapons to defend yourself. It also houses my collection" Jake says, gesturing to the wall filled with firearms of various calibers. "These ones here are my favorites." Jake motions to a section of the wall with antique looking firearms.
"So, who is that in the photo?" L3-0N says pointing at the back wall.
"That is the greatest man in the galaxy; John Moses Browning, the father of modern firearms" Jake says with a grin. "I have some of his creations in my collection: the Auto 5, BAR, and of course my sidearm; the M1911." Pointing out each weapon as he says its name. "We, of course, have more modern armaments for you to use. You do know how to fire a gun, right?"
"No, I was never trained on how to use a gun." L3-0N says.
"Well I would be happy to teach you when we find somewhere with a range." Jake says.
"Well, that can wait. I would like to get us out of here, especially if The Creed is in the area," Houston says, "I'll show you the cockpit as I get us out of here."
Houston and L3-0N move to the front of the ship where the cockpit lies. Inside are seats for a pilot and co-pilot surrounded with various flight instruments, a 3D radar sits between the seats showing other objects relative to the ship’s position. The radar shows that the Cicatrix is docked to a station named ParkStation.
Houston takes a seat in the pilot’s chair and begins pressing the various instruments in the cockpit. “Releasing docking clamps” a harsh “beep” is heard as the Cicatrix begins drifting away from ParkStation. “Alright! Now to get to a safe distance before we start the long journey back to Mars” Houston says.
An object appears on the edge of the 3D radar below the ship, beginning its approach to the station. “Oh shit, if that is what I think it is you may want to go make sure the engine doesn't explode L3.” Houston says gripping the controls.
“On it captain” L3-0N says rushing out of the cockpit.
“Jake we have potential hostiles, get up here and help me” Houston says through the intercom. The object on the radar is still making its steady approach, finally getting within visual range.
“I’m here, what’s the situation?” Jake says, rushing into the co-pilot's seat.
Houston pulls up the visual feed of the approaching object, its brick looking ship with holes for boarding pods, point defense turrets run along its hull, and bearing the insignia of the iron creed: a ring of 14 gears around a picture of a large red mechanical eye.
Finally have faces to names, er insignia to names. The creed rear their cybernetic heads to attack our protagonists.
[Previous] [First] [Next]
2023.03.21 19:45 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, Kara Gamma, BFK Freehand, BFK Bright Water, Spec Gloves Kimono, Nomad Fade, M9 Doppler, Skeleton, BFK B.Steel, AWP Fade, Stiletto Fade, S.Gloves Slingshot, BFK Ultra, Kara Damas, Bayo Lore, Bayo Gamma, Flip Fade & A Lot More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $1867
★ Butterfly Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $1098
★ Butterfly Knife Blue Steel BS, B/O: $907
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $789
★ Butterfly Knife Stained FT, B/O: $695
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $888
★ Bayonet Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $727
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $608
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $521
★ Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $253
★ Bayonet Night FT, B/O: $251
★ StatTrak™ Bayonet Lore MW, B/O: $751
⎯★ Karambit Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1343
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $774
★ Karambit Rust Coat BS, B/O: $537
★ Karambit Boreal Forest FT, B/O: $488
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1008
★ M9 Bayonet Blue Steel FT, B/O: $534
★ M9 Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $449
⎯★ Flip Knife Fade FN, B/O: $703
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $509
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $406
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $228
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $332
⎯★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $292
★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $264
★ Falchion Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Falchion Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $133
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Fade FN, B/O: $822
★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $569
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $530
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $396
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $172
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $830
★ Gut Knife Fade FN, B/O: $204
★ Gut Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $138
★ Gut Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $104
★ Gut Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $92
★ Gut Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $82
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $93
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $165
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Bright Water FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel WW, B/O: $80
★ Shadow Daggers Rust Coat BS, B/O: $74
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade FN, B/O: $186
⎯★ Classic Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $311
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $163
⎯★ Talon Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $605
★ Talon Knife Scorched MW, B/O: $290
⎯★ Ursus Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $405
★ Ursus Knife Night Stripe MW, B/O: $162
⎯★ Paracord Knife Stained WW, B/O: $125
★ Paracord Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
★ Paracord Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $96
⎯★ Navaja Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $71
★ Navaja Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $71
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1015
★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $909
★ Bowie Knife Boreal Forest MW, B/O: $106
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $335
★ Driver Gloves King Snake BS, B/O: $270
★ Driver Gloves Lunar Weave WW, B/O: $113
★ Driver Gloves Overtake WW, B/O: $88
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $67
⎯★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $171
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $137
★ Moto Gloves Transport WW, B/O: $71
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $62
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1027
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $654
★ Specialist Gloves Mogul FT, B/O: $295
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $277
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web FT, B/O: $275
⎯★ Sport Gloves Slingshot FT, B/O: $796
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $699
★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $656
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Unhinged BS, B/O: $60
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $864
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $84
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Wildfire FT, B/O: $59
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $59
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Printstream FN, B/O: $155
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $58
⎯M4A1-S Icarus Fell FN, B/O: $414
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1402
M4A4 The Emperor FN, B/O: $152
M4A4 Asiimov WW, B/O: $97
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $65
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $123
StatTrak™ USP-S Neo-Noir FN, B/O: $106
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $218
P2000 Ocean Foam FN, B/O: $139
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike MW, B/O: $81
CZ75-Auto Emerald Quartz MW, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.03.21 19:10 Kash_Kat Advice for bathroom color palette?
 | Tl;Dr What colors can I do with this style of medicine chest with attached sconces to make it look less 1950s and more suitable to a 1908 house? And advice for wall color, too! submitted by Kash_Kat to interiordecorating [link] [comments] I will update photos when I get home later. ... I have a 1908 home that may be a Sears Kit Home (or something similar). My husband and I are in the process of restoring some of that design style, as it's been through many hands across many decades. Lots of work done in the 1950s and '80s. I don't have the funding right now for new fixtures, so I need to do as much as I can with paint until the big fixes are done on the house. I already have primer on the walls, so they're white at the moment and not pistachio green (previous owner's choice). I am not opposed to repainting the medicine cabinet and sconces (which are painted metal). One of the sconces is badly rusting, so I will need to remove and refinish them anyways. I am partial to the craftsman colors, and much of the house has brass accents. As you can see, the original white subway tile is still on the walls. The shower tile is white 4", definitely done at a much later time, with a thin black tile line about 3/4 of the way up the wall to tie in the black and white. The floor is also white tile with some black accent tiles. |
2023.03.21 18:58 a15minutestory [WP] You are a student in the most prestigious magic academy in the kingdom. No one knows how you got in, sure you have amazing magic potential, but you’re “magic blind” meaning you can only feel the presence of magic and not see any magic. [Part 64]
A slave-driving murderer had just publicly declared war on us. The cheering and applause of the people standing around us was an eerie and ominous accompaniment to the feeling of dread swelling in my chest and radiating down to my stomach. He'd captured all of them thus far. I swallowed and dropped my gaze down to the pavement as it dawned on me that all of those people had tasted freedom, and were then immediately and mercilessly hunted down and dragged back to hell.
But there was an interesting caveat there. He called us by the names O'Malley had erroneously wrote down in his ledger. The men that were chasing us that day had picked up our actual fake aliases, but then we'd killed them at the inn. It seemed that knowledge died with them– a drop of good luck in a raging downpour it seemed.
"William," I said just loud enough to catch his attention.
He turned and eyed me. "Huh? Were you talking to me?"
I lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah. Who else would I be calling William?"
He narrowed his eyes, "It's Tovin, you spaz."
I glanced around nervously. Nobody appeared to have been listening to us. I took him by the shoulder and led him away from the crowd gathered around the picture boxes. "What are you doing?" I hissed.
"What am I doing?" he scoffed. "What are you doing? You know my name. What, are you playing a game right now?"
"Our aliases," I said through my teeth. "We're using fake names, remember?"
His expression changed from annoyed and confused to forlorn and somber. He swallowed and looked away. "... I'm losing it again, aren't I?" he asked.
I remained silent. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want him to feel worse about it, but that would have been a dangerous slip-up in front of the wrong person. Before now, I was starting to think that Tovin back home had overblown how quickly the mental decline would be.
"Don't worry about it," I said finally, passing him on the sidewalk further into the city. "Come on. We need to find a way to make some money."
"And fast," he added, trailing behind me. "We need food, clothes, and a couple of beds. And more cigarettes, too. I've only got a few left and I'm trying to make them last."
We walked the mazelike streets of Bronzegirder looking for work. I wasn't used to Diesel society yet and often found myself hung up on storefront windows that marketed all kinds of gadgets and technology. I would do my best not to stare when people walked by wearing metallic pieces on their persons.
Some wore gadgets on their forearms, some on their wrists, and others in various other areas. I wondered what purpose they served, where they were sold, and how expensive they could be. And it wasn't just the gadgets. There were far more dark-skinned people here than we had in Galgia. It was something I had read about but never experienced. They ranged from light tan all the way to almost black, and it just added to the culture shock.
There appeared to be people living in the buildings above the storefronts. The tall towers we had seen in the far distance earlier served as housing as well as business space. Diesillians stood on their balconies, some hanging wet laundry, others leaning over their railing while they enjoyed a drink or a smoke. We passed so many things I would have wanted to stop and look at were we not being hunted. DuPonte seemed awfully sure of himself when he said he'd find us, but for the life of me, I couldn't imagine how one would find antything they were looking for in this city.
"I'm totally lost," I admitted. "We need a map or something."
He remained quiet. I turned to speak to him more directly only to find that he wasn't behind me anymore. My stomach dropped as I looked around at the sea of people.
"William?" I called out. "William!"
It was no good. I'd have to literally scream if I wanted to breach the drone of the crowd, and I couldn't afford to draw too much attention to myself. There was also the possibility that he'd forgotten his name again anyway. I adjusted the straps of my backpack and sighed deeply before doubling back. He couldn't have wandered too far away, and he'd be easy to spot against the horde of people in more modern clothing.
I kept close to the storefronts as I picked up my pace. I began to peer into each store as I passed them. The longer I searched, the more I worried. He wasn't in his right mind. He'd get himself noticed and captured if he let too much slip, or pulled down his hood. I came to the turn we had taken after we'd left the picture boxes. He was with me at this point, I was sure of it. I turned around and swallowed as I scanned the crowd.
This was really, really, bad.
"William?" I tried again. I decided to cross the street and nearly got run over by one of their vehicles. It screeched to a stop and when I lowered my arms, I found the front of the metallic machine inches from my face.
"Git the fuck oudda da road!" shouted the pilot, shaking his fist in the air. I quickly scurried onto the opposite sidewalk and made my way down the street with the flow of the crowd. I kept my eyes peeled as I walked. It was difficult to see over everyone's shoulders. Diesillians were a good deal taller than Galgians as a rule, and it made it a nightmare for an average-sized guy like myself. Just when I was about to start asking around, something caught my ear.
Something I never expected to hear– music.
I stopped in my tracks and the public parted around me like a river around a boulder. I turned toward the sound and followed my ears to a large silver pavilion nestled between two tall buildings. It looked like an empty lot that had been designed for another tall building but instead served as some sort of inner-city courtyard where live entertainment performed.
I slowly approached as a woman stood in front of a mic stand singing while a band performed with shining metallic instruments behind her. She had black hair styled in a way I'd never seen hair styled. It was pulled up and around under a hat and shined the same as her red lipstick did. But what awed me the most was that she was singing.
No danger; no combat; no sign of beasts being summoned forth. She sang beautifully, adding something to music that I had never in my life once considered because in Galgia, to sing was to slaughter. Music was a tool of war and forbidden entirely outside of such circumstances, for if one of us were even to hum, anything could come crawling out of the resulting portal.
But here she was, singing what I presumed were the words to a poem in perfect rhythm and harmony with the band that played behind her.
"You're my machine, my heart's ignition. The gears that keep my love in motion. You're the engine that never tires– the pistons set my soul on fire."
I was completely taken in. It was therefore no surprise to me that here in the crowd, I spotted Tovin watching her with equal admiration from the edge of the stage. I weaved through the crowd as politely as I was able and then stopped next to him. He glanced at me before quickly returning his eyes back to the stage. I didn't say anything to him; no words needed said so long as she was singing.
"You, my dear, a love machine, the one that keeps my bearings clean– I'm addicted to your engine's roar, your power's what I'm living for."
I wasn't a hundred percent sure what she was talking about, but it was clearly a love song written for one lucky guy. When the song was finished, she ever so slightly lifted her ruby-red dress from the sides and took a bow. The crowd clapped, a few whistles coming from somewhere behind us.
"Thank you," she said softly into the mic. "It's important to remember that love conquers all," she said, passing her deep black eyes over us. "Hatred fades over time, but love lasts; it endures. This next song is about a long lost love and reconnection."
We stayed and listened to a couple more songs before she left the stage, and the band with her. She disappeared on promises of returning tomorrow for a second show. Of all the things thus far I had seen in the land of our enemy, something so sweet as non-weaponized music ranked among the most surprising and awe-inspiring.
As the crowd began to disperse back onto the main street, I turned to Tovin. "Hey, do me a favor and don't disappear like that. I didn't know where you were and we've got to stick together."
"Can we come back here tomorrow?" he asked, completely ignoring what I'd said. He stared at me with hopeful eyes, a small smile on his face. It still felt strange of him to ask me permission for anything, but I couldn't deny that it was a pretty magical performance.
"Only if we live that long," I answered with a heaping helping of snark. "We need money so we can get off these streets tonight. Come on, we're losing daylight."
He looked past my shoulder and suddenly pointed. "What about that?"
I turned to see a bulletin board posted on the side of a building not far from us. On it were several posts, but one of them specifically read, "200 Octim Sign-On Bonus." The two of us walked up the board and looked over the job.
"There's a sign-on bonus," Tovin said as his eyes moved down the paper. "The Empress needs you. Galgian dogs sent monsters to run amok in our fair empire. Officials are spread thin amidst heightened tensions with Galgia's military. Find and kill monsters for bounties. Seek employment at the Hunters' Barracks at 443 Alloy Avenue on the north side of town. Look for the men in uniform."
"Monsters?" I asked. "There aren't any monsters in Galgia. None in all of Aurii if our textbooks are accurate."
"You want to at least check it out?" he asked.
"I think we'd be wasting our time," I said dismissively. "We hiked through a bunch of wilderness closer to the Galgian border and we didn't see anything all night."
He folded his arms. "Then let's get our sign-on bonus and leave."
That was such a fantastic point that I pushed my palm against my forehead and visibly cringed. "Oof. Why am I so dumb?" I whined.
"I don't think you're dumb," Tovin said as he moved down the bulletin board to look at other flyers. "I think you're just honest to a fault. It never would have occurred to you to do something so underhanded."
I would never get used to compliments from Tovin. It was like watching a different person wear his body and speak with his voice. Had life at ENU really been such a drag on him?
"None of these other jobs are offering money upfront," he added, turning to face me. "Let's head to the north side of town and see if we can find Alloy Avenue."
x - - x - - x - - ★ - - x - - x - - x
The walk was long and difficult– not because it was too far, but because we had to pass so much delicious-smelling food along the way. I hadn't been sure before if Tovin was as hungry as I was, but the north side of Bronzegirder was quiet enough to hear both of our stomachs growling in concert with one another. The buildings were made of brick in the district we wandered through, and the walkways were closer to cobblestone like the kind we had back home. The roads were three times as wide, there were benches along the walkways, and they had planted trees caged in black iron gates at the trunks. The few people that strolled the sidewalks on Alloy Avenue were well-to-do, dressed in expensive-looking suits and wearing high hats with wide brims.
"I like this side of town better," Tovin said as we looked for building addresses. "Though I have to say, I'm surprised to see trees in the collossity."
"Goes a little against what we were taught doesn't it?" I asked.
"I don't recall being taught anything," he grumbled. "It's just another thing I somehow know."
I cast him a sympathetic glance and he didn't seem to like it. He scowled at me, "Don't you pity me."
"I'm not," I rolled my eyes. "I'd never feel bad for you Tovin, not in a thousand years."
"Just shut up," he snapped. "We're here."
He stopped in front of a brick building with an impressive stone staircase that had bronze handrails running up the length of them. At the top were two men in uniform just as the flyer had indicated. He was the first to start up the steps and I quickly followed behind him. As we passed them I took a good look at their uniforms. I could have sworn that I'd seen them somewhere before. We walked up to the glass doors and pulled them open.
A blast of warm air blew over us as we entered the building and it was a welcome reprieve from the cold. Inside was smaller than I had anticipated. I was expecting high ceilings, murals, metal artwork, and all kinds of stuff from how nice the outside looked. Instead, we found ourselves standing in a dirty lobby about the size of a headmaster's office. There were several rows of chairs dotted with people filling out forms on clipboards. At the back of the lobby was a little window with a man sitting on the other side. He was dark-skinned, had a shaved head, and bore a grisly pink scar across his cheek. He waved us forward when he noticed us.
"Let me do the talking," I whispered to Tovin, taking the lead in front of him as we made our way over; he didn't protest.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," he spoke into a microphone that relayed his voice to us through a little black device on the window. "Thinking about joining up?"
Before I could even speak, Tovin leaned onto the counter. "So when you say monsters," he adopted a skeptical look. "You mean like the ones that don't exist?"
The man behind the counter rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, another conspiracy theorist."
"What did you call me?" Tovin shot back.
"Ahhh, ha ha," I called out loudly, pulling Tovin back by his shoulder. "My brother is better at fighting than talking," I covered quickly. "Just talk to me from here on in."
He cast me a disinterested glance before handing us both clipboards with forms attached. "Whatever. Just read the whole thing and sign the liability waiver at the bottom. He's free to deny their existence while they're chewing his face off, but the empire won't be responsible for it."
I took both of the clipboards and passed one to Tovin. The two of us sat down and began going through them– and immediately, we faced a problem. They wanted first and last names, home addresses, medical history, and something called landline numbers. Tovin and I exchanged glances; this wasn't going to work.
I stood up and slowly walked back up to the counter as I looked over the document. Every time I looked, it seemed more and more ridiculous. Blood type? Social security number? Insurance provider? I didn't know what any of this meant. It might as well have been in an entirely different language.
"Did you have a question?" asked the man behind the counter.
"Yeah, I don't have most of this information," I said, setting the clipboard down on the counter. "Sorry, but we're gonna have to just go."
"Well, hang on now," he said, reaching under the little pass-through window and retrieving the clipboard. "I take it you boys are homeless then?" he asked.
"Uhh... Yeah," I answered tentatively. Did they really have such a homeless problem that he was able to jump to that conclusion so quickly? "We don't know how to answer these questions, so thanks anyways."
"I said hang on, dammit," he called through the mic before swiveling around in his chair and pulling some kind of lever underneath it that caused it to sink lower to the floor. He opened a cabinet and began rifling through it. I peered through the window at his chair– it was on some kind of ball axis that allowed him to spin in it freely. I felt like every couple of minutes I was seeing something I'd never seen before. He swiveled back around and lifted his chair back up before he handing me a new form. It was more like a strip of paper with three questions on it.
Shirt size, shoe size, and pant size.
There was a second slip of paper underneath it. I looked back up at the window attendant as Tovin appeared next to me. I handed him the slip of paper and we exchanged glances.
"The empire isn't being picky right now," spoke the man through the speaker. "You'll be assigned a number, a gun, and a uniform. You won't be eligible for emergency care, and you can't be assigned to a party. It'll be just the two of you. If you're still interested, we need all the help we can get."
I shrugged at Tovin, and he got to work filling out the information. I leaned on the counter and jotted down my uniform size before signing the waiver and handing everything back. He took both of the documents and then nodded toward the door on his right. "Come on back."
He reached under the table and did something that caused the door to make a whirring sound. It popped open on its own, and he thumbed us over to it. "Close it on your way in. Walk straight down the hall and through the third door on your left. Your hunter number is 27B and his is 28B."
We walked down the hallway and found the designated door already opened and with a sign on the inside that read, "Uniforms HERE" with an arrow pointing into the room. We were met by a portly woman with bouncy curls that hung down to her shoulders. She sat behind a desk absolutely surrounded by hanging uniforms, all kept in clear covering. She sized us up with a retractable ruler– the coolest ruler I had ever seen. After she took our measurements, she began sifting through uniforms.
"Why did they ask us for our sizes if they were going to measure us?" Tovin grumbled.
"I don't know," I whispered. "Just be quiet."
"Don't tell me to be quiet," he shot back, elbowing me in the ribs.
She turned around holding two suits by the hangers, one in each hand. "Your uniforms will come out of your first bounty collected," she announced. "No money needed upfront. Change into them and make sure they fit." We took them from her and she breezed past us. "Holler out here when you're changed." She closed the door behind her.
We turned away from one another and began getting dressed. I pulled back the crinkly clear material and looked down at the uniform. Now that I was seeing it closer, it was actually an extremely dark shade of blue, rather than black as I had thought prior. I looked down at the hat and held it in my hands. I had seen it before. Then, all at once, it came rushing back to me.
These were the uniforms of the men that had come to the mine. They had come carrying guns to inspect the worksite after what had happened to Hammer. Skully must have thought a monster had gotten to him based on the state of his body. I stared down at the uniform in disbelief. Could monsters really be running around in Diesel territory?
"You better not be looking over here," Tovin warned.
They had mistaken what Tovin had done for a monster attack. Skully's "fonekall" wasn't a pilgrimage. It was some form of long-distance communication. She reached out to the capital to request aid from someone, and they sent these guys. I began to wonder if I was making a mistake. If we could be dispatched like that, then we could feasibly be sent back to the camp.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. We were only in it for the sign-on bonus. Once we had that in our hands, we'd be outta here. We could even jump to the next town. They knew nothing about us other than our clothing size. We could be dust in the wind by tomorrow morning.
I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind and quickly got dressed. The uniform fit perfectly, it was comfortable, and best of all had been designed with a high collar. It covered our neck markings perfectly. I turned to see Tovin with the hat on already. He looked like a classic Diesel villain from a comic book I had read as a kid.
"It fits nice," he said, testing the range of motion he had in his arms. "I think this will work."
"Yeah," I nodded. "Let's get our money and get the hell out."
"Speaking my language," he smirked.
He moved for the door and leaned out, calling for the attendant. I looked at myself in the full-body mirror and did a quick turnaround. I had to admit, I looked pretty darn stylish. The white gloves, belt, and hat looked pretty good against the dark blue and gold buttons.
The woman returned and smiled at both of us, her curls bouncing as she tossed her gaze cartoonishly left and right between us. "You two look good!"
"Thanks," I smiled back. "When do we get our sign-on bonus?"
"Oh, don't worry about that just yet," she said, moving back to her desk. "Do you boys know how to shoot?" she asked as she sat down.
"Shoot?" Tovin asked.
"A gun," she clarified, her smile fading. "Have either of you shot a gun?"
"No, ma'am," I answered. "Our parents didn't let us near them growing up."
"That's no problem," she said, lifting her hands. "We're happy to teach you the basics. You'll just exit the room and go left down to the very end of the hallway. I'll buzz you through the double doors at the end, and Old Mitchell will take you from there."
Tovin audibly groaned, and I took him by the arm, leading him out of the room. We walked down the hallway as he bellyached about what a waste of time it was. It was unlike him to turn his nose up at the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of a new weapon. In fact, he'd been acting weirdly childish lately. I didn't like it. It beat dealing with Tovin-Classic, but it was still a hassle. As we neared the end of the hallway, we began hearing the sound of guns being fired one by one.
The doors buckled and hummed the same as the first door had, and we pushed them open. We passed into a large room with Diesillians shooting at targets a good distance away. This was why the building was so large and the lobby was so small. The brick walls were covered in informational and safety posters, as well as what appeared to be schematics for the weapons themselves.
I looked across the large room to see a man striding toward us. He was wearing shiny black boots that were laced tightly to his calves. His pants and jacket were hunter green, and he bore perhaps the silliest mustache I'd ever seen; It was long and curled at the tips. I had to be careful not to snicker– his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and I couldn't tell if he was watching me.
"New recruits?" he called out to us from entirely too far away.
"Yes sir," I called back. "My brother and I just signed up."
"Brothers!" he exclaimed. "I love it, dammit!" He stopped in front of us. He was chewing on something and was being as obnoxious as he possibly could about it. He was wearing perhaps the stupidest hat I had seen of the Diesel yet. It had no visible brim and was high on one side while sloping down toward the other. For the life of me, I couldn't discern the purpose of it.
"You boys know how to shoot?" he asked.
"No sir," I shook my head. "We're new at this."
"Good," he smiled widely. "That means you haven't formed any bad habits yet. I love newbies," he said before waving for us to follow him. "Come on, let's get you your rifles. I'm Mitch, but folks around here call me Old Mitchell."
"James," I said as I followed after him. "This is my brother William." It was difficult to talk over the noise of the weapons. I occasionally jumped when someone shot their gun nearby– a reflex I couldn't wait to be rid of. He led us to a small room; so small that it might as well have been a glorified safe. He disappeared inside and came back out holding two guns. The same long metal tubes Tovin and I had been attacked with at O'Malley's inn.
We each took one and promptly inspected it. Suddenly, Old Mitchell stepped forward and grabbed both of our guns by the barrel, lifting them so they were pointed at the ceiling.
"You boys ever even held one of these?" he barked. "Careful where you aim. Never point one of these at anything or anyone that you're not prepared to destroy."
"They sweep you, Mitch?" asked a man as he passed behind us.
"Pointed 'em right at me," he called back with a laugh. "We'll get 'em straightened out, don't you worry about that." He looked at us both, chewing aggressively. "Now I'm gonna let these rifles go. You keep 'em pointed up, you understand?"
"Yes, sir," I answered.
"Sure," Tovin said in a disinterested tone.
He let go of our rifles and we kept them pointed at the ceiling as we were told. I looked up and down the length of the tube before turning it over and inspecting the area under the barrel. It was split underneath with what looked like some kind of spring running along the length of the tube.
"They're not loaded," Mitch said, waving for us to follow him to the other side of the room. "But you will always treat them like they are. I'm going to show you how to load them over here. Set them down on the desk, I'm gonna stand between the two of you so I can watch you both."
I set my gun down in front of me and looked to my right. There was a box of what I presumed to be bullets. I expected them to be round pellet-like projectiles, but they were tubular with roughly textured heads on them.
"Turn your weapon over. You'll notice you can see a spring inside the bottom of the barrel. Close to the other end of your gun, you'll find a little round tab there. Take that tab and push it with your thumb all the way up toward the tip of the barrel. You'll then pop it out to the side there."
I did as he asked, and sure enough, the barrel popped out to the left at the tip of the weapon. I glanced over at Tovin who was struggling with the spring. Old Mitchell moved over and helped him with it. "Sometimes they get stuck," he muttered as he got Tovin to the same step I was at.
"Now," he shouted. "Take your ammunition right there in the box next to you, and begin placing the rounds into the underside of the barrel, flat side first. Then, you'll load more bullets into the gun overlapping one another. Be careful not to let the rounds collide with one another too heavily, or you could have a little accident."
I loaded the bullets carefully one after another until the barrel was about full. He checked on Tovin's rifle, and then inspected mine.
"Good. Now realign the barrel, there and come with me to the bay," he said, starting toward the practice range. I carefully lifted the weapon and rested it against my shoulder, turning with Tovin to follow him. When we stopped at the range, he motioned for Tovin first. "Come on, Will, we're gonna start with you."
"Pass," he said nonchalantly.
Old Mitchell blinked twice. "What?"
"I want to see Gill do it first," he said, stepping out of my way.
"It's a nickname," I said quickly, stepping up to the range. "Anyways, I'll go first, I don't mind, what do I do here?"
Mitch remained silent for a couple of seconds before clapping his hands once. "Okay! Well, go ahead and pull the hammer back."
I looked down at the weapon and then back up at him. Sensing my confusion, he carefully reached forward and pulled back a little tiny lever on the top of the rifle until it clicked. "That's called pulling the hammer back," he said. "Will, you watching this?"
He didn't wait for a response. "Next thing you're gonna do is pull that lever out underneath the gun. That's going to load the weapon with a fresh cartridge. You're gonna do that between every shot, now. Lift it up against your shoulder like this; get it snug in there." He pulled it against my shoulder. "Look down the iron sight there at the tip of the rifle and line it up against your target. Your weapon is primed and ready to fire. You're good for fifteen shots before you've got to reload. You can always flip it over to see how many bullets are left. Go ahead and aim carefully, and try and hit that target paper down there."
At the end of the range, there was a piece of paper with a silhouette of a human head, shoulders, and torso. I closed one eye for better aim and held the gun tightly as I lined up my shot.
"Don't pull the trigger," Mitch advised in my left ear. "Squeeze it. Squeeze the trigger until it doesn't move easily anymore. Then when you're sure about your aim, squeeze with just that little bit of extra strength you need."
I did as he said, and felt what he was referring to. With my target in sight, my hand steady, and my aim as true as I could hope for, I fired the weapon. The shot rang out right in my ear, but interestingly enough, it wasn't so bad when I was the one firing. I was ready for it, and expecting it.
"Holy smokes!" exclaimed Mitch. "You put one right between the eyes!"
"Beginners's luck," said a man from behind me. "I did the same thing first time I shot, and never did it again."
"Let's prove him wrong, James," Old Mitchell laughed. "Now use that lever under the gun to eject the casing and load a fresh bullet."
I pulled the lever and the shiny little bullet casing popped out the top and flew over my shoulder. It was a really satisfying feeling.
"Do I pull the hammer again? I asked.
"Nope, it'll pop back down. You'll only pull that hammer back the first time. Go ahead and fire again, only this time, aim for the neck."
"Alright," I said, closing my eye and tightening my focus. I squeezed the trigger just as I had the first time and shot a hole straight through the center of the target's neck. I lifted my head and smiled. "I hit it!"
"No way," said the man behind me. "Ain't never shot before, my ass. He's taking you for a ride, Mitch."
"You're sure you're new at this, son?" Old Mitchell asked, one eye half shut. "That's really impressive, kid. Seriously, if this is your first time holding a rifle, you might be cut out for the military. Had a staff sergeant with worse aim than you."
"Alright, alright," Tovin pushed me aside. "My turn. Let me show you something you'll never forget."
The two of us took turns shooting for hours. We hadn't even noticed the time going by. For once, it seemed Tovin had found something he wasn't naturally amazing at, and it was infuriating him to no end.
Conversely, I found something I was really, really good at. I hit my target almost every time, and to be honest, I couldn't figure out what was so difficult about it. A crowd had gathered to watch me shoot. I got really swift with the lever, and could shoot out both of a target's eyes, and put one in its forehead in a matter of seconds.
Tovin wasn't a bad shot, but I knew how he felt. If he wasn't first, he was last as far as he was concerned, and at one point he about threw his rifle. Old Mitchell had to talk to him about how some things come naturally to others, and how he shouldn't be discouraged from coming to the range and practicing.
It was rich hearing Tovin get that talk of all people. The natural genius that outshined everyone, struggling with something for the very first time. I almost couldn't believe I was better than him at something, and of course, it just had to be the thing that we'd never do again once we found our friends and went back home.
Our friends.
We were wasting time here. "Hey, Mitchel," I turned toward him. "When do we get our sign-on bonus? It was supposed to be something like 200 octims."
"You get your sign-on bonus when you bring back your first bounty," he responded quickly.
"What?" Tovin shouted. "That's not fair! We signed on, now where's our money?"
I was equally upset. We were lied to. But it made sense that they couldn't just hand us uniforms, cash, and a gun, and let us go. They wanted to make sure we at least killed a monster.
"It's fine," I said with a sigh. "Where can we find bounties?"
"It's not fine," Tovin protested.
I yanked him by the collar of his shirt and looked him in the eyes. "It's fine," I said slowly and firmly. "We'll run out, bag a monster, and be back before dark."
He held eye contact with me for several seconds before shrugging me off of him and walking away. He stormed across the bay and left through the double doors at the other end of the room.
"My brother was the same way," said Mitch. "Hard-headed. Stubborn as a mule. Loyal as anyone you'd ever meet though."
He had no idea. Tovin wasn't just difficult, but he was turning into a walking liability. I didn't know how much longer I could take him acting like this. Suddenly, Mitch extended his arm, pointing to a door adjacent to where he'd gotten our guns from.
"Bounty board is in there. Come on, I'll show you."
It was a medium-sized room with several corkboards wall to wall filled with bounties. Every monster was named and almost all of them were sketched to a professional degree. You could find how much money the monster was going for, which hunters it had killed, where it was last seen, as well as whether or not there were hunters currently after it.
They had a system where you would notate which monster you were going after, and if you didn't return, they'd add your name under the list of hunters that died searching for it. There were so many monsters I couldn't believe it, and according to Old Mitchell, these were only the monsters within a five-mile radius of Bronzegirder.
I learned the process of choosing a bounty and chose a smaller monster with no names under its fatality list. Mitch agreed it was a good monster for beginners, and offered a few pointers for tracking it. I submitted the bounty request and got it approved before leaving the bay and heading down the hall in search of Tovin. I entered the lobby and didn't see him. I left the building and found him at the top of the steps staring out into the street where a couple of vehicles were hauling something massive together under a tarp.
Several uniformed hunters were walking slowly next to the vehicles. Their uniforms were tattered and bloodstained, and a few of them walked with a limp. We watched as the exhausted men passed the building on their way down the road. Two of them were sobbing silently, but we could tell by their exposed teeth and wrinkled expressions that they'd lost someone.
From beneath the tarp, a scaly limb fell off the side of the vehicle and dangled lifelessly. It was a reptilian-looking arm with an open wound, and the shredded remnants of a uniform hanging from its claws.
"Gill," Tovin said quietly. "Is that..."
"Yeah," I answered.
"That's definitely a monster."
Writing Prompt Submitted by u/My-Last-Hope
submitted by a15minutestory to A15MinuteMythos [link] [comments]
But there was an interesting caveat there. He called us by the names O'Malley had erroneously wrote down in his ledger. The men that were chasing us that day had picked up our actual fake aliases, but then we'd killed them at the inn. It seemed that knowledge died with them– a drop of good luck in a raging downpour it seemed.
"William," I said just loud enough to catch his attention.
He turned and eyed me. "Huh? Were you talking to me?"
I lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah. Who else would I be calling William?"
He narrowed his eyes, "It's Tovin, you spaz."
I glanced around nervously. Nobody appeared to have been listening to us. I took him by the shoulder and led him away from the crowd gathered around the picture boxes. "What are you doing?" I hissed.
"What am I doing?" he scoffed. "What are you doing? You know my name. What, are you playing a game right now?"
"Our aliases," I said through my teeth. "We're using fake names, remember?"
His expression changed from annoyed and confused to forlorn and somber. He swallowed and looked away. "... I'm losing it again, aren't I?" he asked.
I remained silent. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want him to feel worse about it, but that would have been a dangerous slip-up in front of the wrong person. Before now, I was starting to think that Tovin back home had overblown how quickly the mental decline would be.
"Don't worry about it," I said finally, passing him on the sidewalk further into the city. "Come on. We need to find a way to make some money."
"And fast," he added, trailing behind me. "We need food, clothes, and a couple of beds. And more cigarettes, too. I've only got a few left and I'm trying to make them last."
We walked the mazelike streets of Bronzegirder looking for work. I wasn't used to Diesel society yet and often found myself hung up on storefront windows that marketed all kinds of gadgets and technology. I would do my best not to stare when people walked by wearing metallic pieces on their persons.
Some wore gadgets on their forearms, some on their wrists, and others in various other areas. I wondered what purpose they served, where they were sold, and how expensive they could be. And it wasn't just the gadgets. There were far more dark-skinned people here than we had in Galgia. It was something I had read about but never experienced. They ranged from light tan all the way to almost black, and it just added to the culture shock.
There appeared to be people living in the buildings above the storefronts. The tall towers we had seen in the far distance earlier served as housing as well as business space. Diesillians stood on their balconies, some hanging wet laundry, others leaning over their railing while they enjoyed a drink or a smoke. We passed so many things I would have wanted to stop and look at were we not being hunted. DuPonte seemed awfully sure of himself when he said he'd find us, but for the life of me, I couldn't imagine how one would find antything they were looking for in this city.
"I'm totally lost," I admitted. "We need a map or something."
He remained quiet. I turned to speak to him more directly only to find that he wasn't behind me anymore. My stomach dropped as I looked around at the sea of people.
"William?" I called out. "William!"
It was no good. I'd have to literally scream if I wanted to breach the drone of the crowd, and I couldn't afford to draw too much attention to myself. There was also the possibility that he'd forgotten his name again anyway. I adjusted the straps of my backpack and sighed deeply before doubling back. He couldn't have wandered too far away, and he'd be easy to spot against the horde of people in more modern clothing.
I kept close to the storefronts as I picked up my pace. I began to peer into each store as I passed them. The longer I searched, the more I worried. He wasn't in his right mind. He'd get himself noticed and captured if he let too much slip, or pulled down his hood. I came to the turn we had taken after we'd left the picture boxes. He was with me at this point, I was sure of it. I turned around and swallowed as I scanned the crowd.
This was really, really, bad.
"William?" I tried again. I decided to cross the street and nearly got run over by one of their vehicles. It screeched to a stop and when I lowered my arms, I found the front of the metallic machine inches from my face.
"Git the fuck oudda da road!" shouted the pilot, shaking his fist in the air. I quickly scurried onto the opposite sidewalk and made my way down the street with the flow of the crowd. I kept my eyes peeled as I walked. It was difficult to see over everyone's shoulders. Diesillians were a good deal taller than Galgians as a rule, and it made it a nightmare for an average-sized guy like myself. Just when I was about to start asking around, something caught my ear.
Something I never expected to hear– music.
I stopped in my tracks and the public parted around me like a river around a boulder. I turned toward the sound and followed my ears to a large silver pavilion nestled between two tall buildings. It looked like an empty lot that had been designed for another tall building but instead served as some sort of inner-city courtyard where live entertainment performed.
I slowly approached as a woman stood in front of a mic stand singing while a band performed with shining metallic instruments behind her. She had black hair styled in a way I'd never seen hair styled. It was pulled up and around under a hat and shined the same as her red lipstick did. But what awed me the most was that she was singing.
No danger; no combat; no sign of beasts being summoned forth. She sang beautifully, adding something to music that I had never in my life once considered because in Galgia, to sing was to slaughter. Music was a tool of war and forbidden entirely outside of such circumstances, for if one of us were even to hum, anything could come crawling out of the resulting portal.
But here she was, singing what I presumed were the words to a poem in perfect rhythm and harmony with the band that played behind her.
"You're my machine, my heart's ignition. The gears that keep my love in motion. You're the engine that never tires– the pistons set my soul on fire."
I was completely taken in. It was therefore no surprise to me that here in the crowd, I spotted Tovin watching her with equal admiration from the edge of the stage. I weaved through the crowd as politely as I was able and then stopped next to him. He glanced at me before quickly returning his eyes back to the stage. I didn't say anything to him; no words needed said so long as she was singing.
"You, my dear, a love machine, the one that keeps my bearings clean– I'm addicted to your engine's roar, your power's what I'm living for."
I wasn't a hundred percent sure what she was talking about, but it was clearly a love song written for one lucky guy. When the song was finished, she ever so slightly lifted her ruby-red dress from the sides and took a bow. The crowd clapped, a few whistles coming from somewhere behind us.
"Thank you," she said softly into the mic. "It's important to remember that love conquers all," she said, passing her deep black eyes over us. "Hatred fades over time, but love lasts; it endures. This next song is about a long lost love and reconnection."
We stayed and listened to a couple more songs before she left the stage, and the band with her. She disappeared on promises of returning tomorrow for a second show. Of all the things thus far I had seen in the land of our enemy, something so sweet as non-weaponized music ranked among the most surprising and awe-inspiring.
As the crowd began to disperse back onto the main street, I turned to Tovin. "Hey, do me a favor and don't disappear like that. I didn't know where you were and we've got to stick together."
"Can we come back here tomorrow?" he asked, completely ignoring what I'd said. He stared at me with hopeful eyes, a small smile on his face. It still felt strange of him to ask me permission for anything, but I couldn't deny that it was a pretty magical performance.
"Only if we live that long," I answered with a heaping helping of snark. "We need money so we can get off these streets tonight. Come on, we're losing daylight."
He looked past my shoulder and suddenly pointed. "What about that?"
I turned to see a bulletin board posted on the side of a building not far from us. On it were several posts, but one of them specifically read, "200 Octim Sign-On Bonus." The two of us walked up the board and looked over the job.
"There's a sign-on bonus," Tovin said as his eyes moved down the paper. "The Empress needs you. Galgian dogs sent monsters to run amok in our fair empire. Officials are spread thin amidst heightened tensions with Galgia's military. Find and kill monsters for bounties. Seek employment at the Hunters' Barracks at 443 Alloy Avenue on the north side of town. Look for the men in uniform."
"Monsters?" I asked. "There aren't any monsters in Galgia. None in all of Aurii if our textbooks are accurate."
"You want to at least check it out?" he asked.
"I think we'd be wasting our time," I said dismissively. "We hiked through a bunch of wilderness closer to the Galgian border and we didn't see anything all night."
He folded his arms. "Then let's get our sign-on bonus and leave."
That was such a fantastic point that I pushed my palm against my forehead and visibly cringed. "Oof. Why am I so dumb?" I whined.
"I don't think you're dumb," Tovin said as he moved down the bulletin board to look at other flyers. "I think you're just honest to a fault. It never would have occurred to you to do something so underhanded."
I would never get used to compliments from Tovin. It was like watching a different person wear his body and speak with his voice. Had life at ENU really been such a drag on him?
"None of these other jobs are offering money upfront," he added, turning to face me. "Let's head to the north side of town and see if we can find Alloy Avenue."
x - - x - - x - - ★ - - x - - x - - x
The walk was long and difficult– not because it was too far, but because we had to pass so much delicious-smelling food along the way. I hadn't been sure before if Tovin was as hungry as I was, but the north side of Bronzegirder was quiet enough to hear both of our stomachs growling in concert with one another. The buildings were made of brick in the district we wandered through, and the walkways were closer to cobblestone like the kind we had back home. The roads were three times as wide, there were benches along the walkways, and they had planted trees caged in black iron gates at the trunks. The few people that strolled the sidewalks on Alloy Avenue were well-to-do, dressed in expensive-looking suits and wearing high hats with wide brims.
"I like this side of town better," Tovin said as we looked for building addresses. "Though I have to say, I'm surprised to see trees in the collossity."
"Goes a little against what we were taught doesn't it?" I asked.
"I don't recall being taught anything," he grumbled. "It's just another thing I somehow know."
I cast him a sympathetic glance and he didn't seem to like it. He scowled at me, "Don't you pity me."
"I'm not," I rolled my eyes. "I'd never feel bad for you Tovin, not in a thousand years."
"Just shut up," he snapped. "We're here."
He stopped in front of a brick building with an impressive stone staircase that had bronze handrails running up the length of them. At the top were two men in uniform just as the flyer had indicated. He was the first to start up the steps and I quickly followed behind him. As we passed them I took a good look at their uniforms. I could have sworn that I'd seen them somewhere before. We walked up to the glass doors and pulled them open.
A blast of warm air blew over us as we entered the building and it was a welcome reprieve from the cold. Inside was smaller than I had anticipated. I was expecting high ceilings, murals, metal artwork, and all kinds of stuff from how nice the outside looked. Instead, we found ourselves standing in a dirty lobby about the size of a headmaster's office. There were several rows of chairs dotted with people filling out forms on clipboards. At the back of the lobby was a little window with a man sitting on the other side. He was dark-skinned, had a shaved head, and bore a grisly pink scar across his cheek. He waved us forward when he noticed us.
"Let me do the talking," I whispered to Tovin, taking the lead in front of him as we made our way over; he didn't protest.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," he spoke into a microphone that relayed his voice to us through a little black device on the window. "Thinking about joining up?"
Before I could even speak, Tovin leaned onto the counter. "So when you say monsters," he adopted a skeptical look. "You mean like the ones that don't exist?"
The man behind the counter rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, another conspiracy theorist."
"What did you call me?" Tovin shot back.
"Ahhh, ha ha," I called out loudly, pulling Tovin back by his shoulder. "My brother is better at fighting than talking," I covered quickly. "Just talk to me from here on in."
He cast me a disinterested glance before handing us both clipboards with forms attached. "Whatever. Just read the whole thing and sign the liability waiver at the bottom. He's free to deny their existence while they're chewing his face off, but the empire won't be responsible for it."
I took both of the clipboards and passed one to Tovin. The two of us sat down and began going through them– and immediately, we faced a problem. They wanted first and last names, home addresses, medical history, and something called landline numbers. Tovin and I exchanged glances; this wasn't going to work.
I stood up and slowly walked back up to the counter as I looked over the document. Every time I looked, it seemed more and more ridiculous. Blood type? Social security number? Insurance provider? I didn't know what any of this meant. It might as well have been in an entirely different language.
"Did you have a question?" asked the man behind the counter.
"Yeah, I don't have most of this information," I said, setting the clipboard down on the counter. "Sorry, but we're gonna have to just go."
"Well, hang on now," he said, reaching under the little pass-through window and retrieving the clipboard. "I take it you boys are homeless then?" he asked.
"Uhh... Yeah," I answered tentatively. Did they really have such a homeless problem that he was able to jump to that conclusion so quickly? "We don't know how to answer these questions, so thanks anyways."
"I said hang on, dammit," he called through the mic before swiveling around in his chair and pulling some kind of lever underneath it that caused it to sink lower to the floor. He opened a cabinet and began rifling through it. I peered through the window at his chair– it was on some kind of ball axis that allowed him to spin in it freely. I felt like every couple of minutes I was seeing something I'd never seen before. He swiveled back around and lifted his chair back up before he handing me a new form. It was more like a strip of paper with three questions on it.
Shirt size, shoe size, and pant size.
There was a second slip of paper underneath it. I looked back up at the window attendant as Tovin appeared next to me. I handed him the slip of paper and we exchanged glances.
"The empire isn't being picky right now," spoke the man through the speaker. "You'll be assigned a number, a gun, and a uniform. You won't be eligible for emergency care, and you can't be assigned to a party. It'll be just the two of you. If you're still interested, we need all the help we can get."
I shrugged at Tovin, and he got to work filling out the information. I leaned on the counter and jotted down my uniform size before signing the waiver and handing everything back. He took both of the documents and then nodded toward the door on his right. "Come on back."
He reached under the table and did something that caused the door to make a whirring sound. It popped open on its own, and he thumbed us over to it. "Close it on your way in. Walk straight down the hall and through the third door on your left. Your hunter number is 27B and his is 28B."
We walked down the hallway and found the designated door already opened and with a sign on the inside that read, "Uniforms HERE" with an arrow pointing into the room. We were met by a portly woman with bouncy curls that hung down to her shoulders. She sat behind a desk absolutely surrounded by hanging uniforms, all kept in clear covering. She sized us up with a retractable ruler– the coolest ruler I had ever seen. After she took our measurements, she began sifting through uniforms.
"Why did they ask us for our sizes if they were going to measure us?" Tovin grumbled.
"I don't know," I whispered. "Just be quiet."
"Don't tell me to be quiet," he shot back, elbowing me in the ribs.
She turned around holding two suits by the hangers, one in each hand. "Your uniforms will come out of your first bounty collected," she announced. "No money needed upfront. Change into them and make sure they fit." We took them from her and she breezed past us. "Holler out here when you're changed." She closed the door behind her.
We turned away from one another and began getting dressed. I pulled back the crinkly clear material and looked down at the uniform. Now that I was seeing it closer, it was actually an extremely dark shade of blue, rather than black as I had thought prior. I looked down at the hat and held it in my hands. I had seen it before. Then, all at once, it came rushing back to me.
These were the uniforms of the men that had come to the mine. They had come carrying guns to inspect the worksite after what had happened to Hammer. Skully must have thought a monster had gotten to him based on the state of his body. I stared down at the uniform in disbelief. Could monsters really be running around in Diesel territory?
"You better not be looking over here," Tovin warned.
They had mistaken what Tovin had done for a monster attack. Skully's "fonekall" wasn't a pilgrimage. It was some form of long-distance communication. She reached out to the capital to request aid from someone, and they sent these guys. I began to wonder if I was making a mistake. If we could be dispatched like that, then we could feasibly be sent back to the camp.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. We were only in it for the sign-on bonus. Once we had that in our hands, we'd be outta here. We could even jump to the next town. They knew nothing about us other than our clothing size. We could be dust in the wind by tomorrow morning.
I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind and quickly got dressed. The uniform fit perfectly, it was comfortable, and best of all had been designed with a high collar. It covered our neck markings perfectly. I turned to see Tovin with the hat on already. He looked like a classic Diesel villain from a comic book I had read as a kid.
"It fits nice," he said, testing the range of motion he had in his arms. "I think this will work."
"Yeah," I nodded. "Let's get our money and get the hell out."
"Speaking my language," he smirked.
He moved for the door and leaned out, calling for the attendant. I looked at myself in the full-body mirror and did a quick turnaround. I had to admit, I looked pretty darn stylish. The white gloves, belt, and hat looked pretty good against the dark blue and gold buttons.
The woman returned and smiled at both of us, her curls bouncing as she tossed her gaze cartoonishly left and right between us. "You two look good!"
"Thanks," I smiled back. "When do we get our sign-on bonus?"
"Oh, don't worry about that just yet," she said, moving back to her desk. "Do you boys know how to shoot?" she asked as she sat down.
"Shoot?" Tovin asked.
"A gun," she clarified, her smile fading. "Have either of you shot a gun?"
"No, ma'am," I answered. "Our parents didn't let us near them growing up."
"That's no problem," she said, lifting her hands. "We're happy to teach you the basics. You'll just exit the room and go left down to the very end of the hallway. I'll buzz you through the double doors at the end, and Old Mitchell will take you from there."
Tovin audibly groaned, and I took him by the arm, leading him out of the room. We walked down the hallway as he bellyached about what a waste of time it was. It was unlike him to turn his nose up at the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of a new weapon. In fact, he'd been acting weirdly childish lately. I didn't like it. It beat dealing with Tovin-Classic, but it was still a hassle. As we neared the end of the hallway, we began hearing the sound of guns being fired one by one.
The doors buckled and hummed the same as the first door had, and we pushed them open. We passed into a large room with Diesillians shooting at targets a good distance away. This was why the building was so large and the lobby was so small. The brick walls were covered in informational and safety posters, as well as what appeared to be schematics for the weapons themselves.
I looked across the large room to see a man striding toward us. He was wearing shiny black boots that were laced tightly to his calves. His pants and jacket were hunter green, and he bore perhaps the silliest mustache I'd ever seen; It was long and curled at the tips. I had to be careful not to snicker– his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and I couldn't tell if he was watching me.
"New recruits?" he called out to us from entirely too far away.
"Yes sir," I called back. "My brother and I just signed up."
"Brothers!" he exclaimed. "I love it, dammit!" He stopped in front of us. He was chewing on something and was being as obnoxious as he possibly could about it. He was wearing perhaps the stupidest hat I had seen of the Diesel yet. It had no visible brim and was high on one side while sloping down toward the other. For the life of me, I couldn't discern the purpose of it.
"You boys know how to shoot?" he asked.
"No sir," I shook my head. "We're new at this."
"Good," he smiled widely. "That means you haven't formed any bad habits yet. I love newbies," he said before waving for us to follow him. "Come on, let's get you your rifles. I'm Mitch, but folks around here call me Old Mitchell."
"James," I said as I followed after him. "This is my brother William." It was difficult to talk over the noise of the weapons. I occasionally jumped when someone shot their gun nearby– a reflex I couldn't wait to be rid of. He led us to a small room; so small that it might as well have been a glorified safe. He disappeared inside and came back out holding two guns. The same long metal tubes Tovin and I had been attacked with at O'Malley's inn.
We each took one and promptly inspected it. Suddenly, Old Mitchell stepped forward and grabbed both of our guns by the barrel, lifting them so they were pointed at the ceiling.
"You boys ever even held one of these?" he barked. "Careful where you aim. Never point one of these at anything or anyone that you're not prepared to destroy."
"They sweep you, Mitch?" asked a man as he passed behind us.
"Pointed 'em right at me," he called back with a laugh. "We'll get 'em straightened out, don't you worry about that." He looked at us both, chewing aggressively. "Now I'm gonna let these rifles go. You keep 'em pointed up, you understand?"
"Yes, sir," I answered.
"Sure," Tovin said in a disinterested tone.
He let go of our rifles and we kept them pointed at the ceiling as we were told. I looked up and down the length of the tube before turning it over and inspecting the area under the barrel. It was split underneath with what looked like some kind of spring running along the length of the tube.
"They're not loaded," Mitch said, waving for us to follow him to the other side of the room. "But you will always treat them like they are. I'm going to show you how to load them over here. Set them down on the desk, I'm gonna stand between the two of you so I can watch you both."
I set my gun down in front of me and looked to my right. There was a box of what I presumed to be bullets. I expected them to be round pellet-like projectiles, but they were tubular with roughly textured heads on them.
"Turn your weapon over. You'll notice you can see a spring inside the bottom of the barrel. Close to the other end of your gun, you'll find a little round tab there. Take that tab and push it with your thumb all the way up toward the tip of the barrel. You'll then pop it out to the side there."
I did as he asked, and sure enough, the barrel popped out to the left at the tip of the weapon. I glanced over at Tovin who was struggling with the spring. Old Mitchell moved over and helped him with it. "Sometimes they get stuck," he muttered as he got Tovin to the same step I was at.
"Now," he shouted. "Take your ammunition right there in the box next to you, and begin placing the rounds into the underside of the barrel, flat side first. Then, you'll load more bullets into the gun overlapping one another. Be careful not to let the rounds collide with one another too heavily, or you could have a little accident."
I loaded the bullets carefully one after another until the barrel was about full. He checked on Tovin's rifle, and then inspected mine.
"Good. Now realign the barrel, there and come with me to the bay," he said, starting toward the practice range. I carefully lifted the weapon and rested it against my shoulder, turning with Tovin to follow him. When we stopped at the range, he motioned for Tovin first. "Come on, Will, we're gonna start with you."
"Pass," he said nonchalantly.
Old Mitchell blinked twice. "What?"
"I want to see Gill do it first," he said, stepping out of my way.
"It's a nickname," I said quickly, stepping up to the range. "Anyways, I'll go first, I don't mind, what do I do here?"
Mitch remained silent for a couple of seconds before clapping his hands once. "Okay! Well, go ahead and pull the hammer back."
I looked down at the weapon and then back up at him. Sensing my confusion, he carefully reached forward and pulled back a little tiny lever on the top of the rifle until it clicked. "That's called pulling the hammer back," he said. "Will, you watching this?"
He didn't wait for a response. "Next thing you're gonna do is pull that lever out underneath the gun. That's going to load the weapon with a fresh cartridge. You're gonna do that between every shot, now. Lift it up against your shoulder like this; get it snug in there." He pulled it against my shoulder. "Look down the iron sight there at the tip of the rifle and line it up against your target. Your weapon is primed and ready to fire. You're good for fifteen shots before you've got to reload. You can always flip it over to see how many bullets are left. Go ahead and aim carefully, and try and hit that target paper down there."
At the end of the range, there was a piece of paper with a silhouette of a human head, shoulders, and torso. I closed one eye for better aim and held the gun tightly as I lined up my shot.
"Don't pull the trigger," Mitch advised in my left ear. "Squeeze it. Squeeze the trigger until it doesn't move easily anymore. Then when you're sure about your aim, squeeze with just that little bit of extra strength you need."
I did as he said, and felt what he was referring to. With my target in sight, my hand steady, and my aim as true as I could hope for, I fired the weapon. The shot rang out right in my ear, but interestingly enough, it wasn't so bad when I was the one firing. I was ready for it, and expecting it.
"Holy smokes!" exclaimed Mitch. "You put one right between the eyes!"
"Beginners's luck," said a man from behind me. "I did the same thing first time I shot, and never did it again."
"Let's prove him wrong, James," Old Mitchell laughed. "Now use that lever under the gun to eject the casing and load a fresh bullet."
I pulled the lever and the shiny little bullet casing popped out the top and flew over my shoulder. It was a really satisfying feeling.
"Do I pull the hammer again? I asked.
"Nope, it'll pop back down. You'll only pull that hammer back the first time. Go ahead and fire again, only this time, aim for the neck."
"Alright," I said, closing my eye and tightening my focus. I squeezed the trigger just as I had the first time and shot a hole straight through the center of the target's neck. I lifted my head and smiled. "I hit it!"
"No way," said the man behind me. "Ain't never shot before, my ass. He's taking you for a ride, Mitch."
"You're sure you're new at this, son?" Old Mitchell asked, one eye half shut. "That's really impressive, kid. Seriously, if this is your first time holding a rifle, you might be cut out for the military. Had a staff sergeant with worse aim than you."
"Alright, alright," Tovin pushed me aside. "My turn. Let me show you something you'll never forget."
The two of us took turns shooting for hours. We hadn't even noticed the time going by. For once, it seemed Tovin had found something he wasn't naturally amazing at, and it was infuriating him to no end.
Conversely, I found something I was really, really good at. I hit my target almost every time, and to be honest, I couldn't figure out what was so difficult about it. A crowd had gathered to watch me shoot. I got really swift with the lever, and could shoot out both of a target's eyes, and put one in its forehead in a matter of seconds.
Tovin wasn't a bad shot, but I knew how he felt. If he wasn't first, he was last as far as he was concerned, and at one point he about threw his rifle. Old Mitchell had to talk to him about how some things come naturally to others, and how he shouldn't be discouraged from coming to the range and practicing.
It was rich hearing Tovin get that talk of all people. The natural genius that outshined everyone, struggling with something for the very first time. I almost couldn't believe I was better than him at something, and of course, it just had to be the thing that we'd never do again once we found our friends and went back home.
Our friends.
We were wasting time here. "Hey, Mitchel," I turned toward him. "When do we get our sign-on bonus? It was supposed to be something like 200 octims."
"You get your sign-on bonus when you bring back your first bounty," he responded quickly.
"What?" Tovin shouted. "That's not fair! We signed on, now where's our money?"
I was equally upset. We were lied to. But it made sense that they couldn't just hand us uniforms, cash, and a gun, and let us go. They wanted to make sure we at least killed a monster.
"It's fine," I said with a sigh. "Where can we find bounties?"
"It's not fine," Tovin protested.
I yanked him by the collar of his shirt and looked him in the eyes. "It's fine," I said slowly and firmly. "We'll run out, bag a monster, and be back before dark."
He held eye contact with me for several seconds before shrugging me off of him and walking away. He stormed across the bay and left through the double doors at the other end of the room.
"My brother was the same way," said Mitch. "Hard-headed. Stubborn as a mule. Loyal as anyone you'd ever meet though."
He had no idea. Tovin wasn't just difficult, but he was turning into a walking liability. I didn't know how much longer I could take him acting like this. Suddenly, Mitch extended his arm, pointing to a door adjacent to where he'd gotten our guns from.
"Bounty board is in there. Come on, I'll show you."
It was a medium-sized room with several corkboards wall to wall filled with bounties. Every monster was named and almost all of them were sketched to a professional degree. You could find how much money the monster was going for, which hunters it had killed, where it was last seen, as well as whether or not there were hunters currently after it.
They had a system where you would notate which monster you were going after, and if you didn't return, they'd add your name under the list of hunters that died searching for it. There were so many monsters I couldn't believe it, and according to Old Mitchell, these were only the monsters within a five-mile radius of Bronzegirder.
I learned the process of choosing a bounty and chose a smaller monster with no names under its fatality list. Mitch agreed it was a good monster for beginners, and offered a few pointers for tracking it. I submitted the bounty request and got it approved before leaving the bay and heading down the hall in search of Tovin. I entered the lobby and didn't see him. I left the building and found him at the top of the steps staring out into the street where a couple of vehicles were hauling something massive together under a tarp.
Several uniformed hunters were walking slowly next to the vehicles. Their uniforms were tattered and bloodstained, and a few of them walked with a limp. We watched as the exhausted men passed the building on their way down the road. Two of them were sobbing silently, but we could tell by their exposed teeth and wrinkled expressions that they'd lost someone.
From beneath the tarp, a scaly limb fell off the side of the vehicle and dangled lifelessly. It was a reptilian-looking arm with an open wound, and the shredded remnants of a uniform hanging from its claws.
"Gill," Tovin said quietly. "Is that..."
"Yeah," I answered.
"That's definitely a monster."
Writing Prompt Submitted by u/My-Last-Hope
2023.03.21 18:01 Festovious Void Runners 9
Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for his amazing worldbuilding.
[First]-[Previous]-[Next]
~~~~
Sorry for the delay, I was again busy with a university project. Woe be upon me for I forgot the NOP: in the title.
~~~~
Memory transcription subject: Ryan West, Runner Date [standardized human time]: November 25th, 2136.
It’s hard to tell if you’re moving in space. If there’s no close point of reference it can feel like you’re motionless. The engines run at quarter capacity to lower our heat signature. Even with our target, the green, barren moon of Turadus, in sight I can’t tell if we’re approaching or slowly drifting away. I sink into my seat and close my eyes, a bit tired.
“Would the Nevok actually attack the ship if they detected it?” I ask Tsanma as she manually pilots the ship.
“No, it’s very unlikely they’d take any direct action, especially against a cargo ship. But the intel the Countess can provide will be more useful if the Imperium is unaware that we possess it.”
“I see.” I say halfheartedly. I open my eyes again and the moon seems to have gotten a bit closer.
***
The station comes into view, various metal structures and domes poked from the green rock. The surface of the moon was very jagged, like an emerald badland. I make sure I’m out of view of the camera as Tsanma hails the station. The visage of a masked Nevok appears.
“Hello Compact representative, you are clear to land at bay two.” Tsanma dips her head in response and the feed cuts as quickly as it started.
I head to the back of the ship, I’ll be waiting in the bunks until we leave. We’ve done nothing but stare at a slowly approaching moon for nearly half a day. It's been the most exhausting part of the job so far.
Memory transcription subject: Reossa, Nevok Imperium Countess Date [standardized human time]: November 25th, 2136.
“Oh Lady,” Maylak is on the verge of tears, “must you leave? The estate is so safe.” She holds my bag for me as we walk to the landing bay; she’s not been taking it well.
“The plot came directly from the capital Maylak, it’s safe for now, but it’s only a matter of time before the Imperium sends someone here. Then none of you will be safe.” A small entourage of my personal servants has conglomerated in the steel halls as I walk. Most have taken the news with somber acceptance, but Maylak has been my chambermaid since she was a kitten.
I push through the doors to the bay, the small crowd stopping at the doors. Some cry their final goodbye, some just stand in silence. I see the fissan standing at the top of a small landing platform, she must be the captain. I grab my bag from Maylak who whines and holds it for a moment longer than she should have, I walk towards the ship. As I approach, the fissan dips her head in greeting.
“Hello Lady Roessa, I am Tsanma, a representative of the Fissan Compact.” She says with the flat tone of one who’s recited the phrase a thousand times before.
“Hello Tsanma, I hope my background doesn’t invoke any hostility between us.” I’d weighed my options of who to go to for a long time. In the end the Fissans were the closest, and obviously had a great deal to gain from my cooperation.
“Nonsense, the Compact is always open to those willing to do business.” I almost instinctively voice an objection to the statement. No point in wasting breath defending an empire that wants me dead.
“Alright, please, show me where I’ll be-” I’m cut off by a cry from Maylak, she runs towards me, jumping over a guard who tries to stop her.
“Please Lady, I need to come with you,” she grabs onto one of my paws with both of her own. I’m shocked she’d go this far. I look over to Tsanma pleadingly.
“She can come, we have enough room for the both of you.” she says. I sigh, it had taken a lot of mental preparation for what I thought would be the rest of life servantless, what a waste.
“Then I suppose,” I look to Maylak, “you can come.” she signals joy with her tail. She quickly sprints back into the crowd of servants by the door, and comes back holding her own bag.
“My Lady, you won’t regret it.” She says, holding the small bag.
“You seem prepared.” I give, she holds her ears down in shame though her tail still says joy.
“A very touching scene, but please hurry, we have a schedule to meet.” Tsanma says as she walks back into the ship. Maylak and I follow her in. “I’ll go over everything once we’re voidborne, for now please just sit down.” She mans the ship and the engines begin to lightly rumble. The rumbling quickly eases as we leave the artificial gravity of the station. Tsanma activates auto-pilot and the ship begins a very slow ascent from the moon’s green surface.
“I can’t help but notice the lack of personnel. Where is everyone?” I ask.
“We keep our cargo ship crew light. I’m knowledgeable enough in ship maintenance that a dedicated mechanic is unnecessary. Though currently we have an exceptionally low crew.”
“Who else is there?” Maylak asks.
“Besides myself we have a single security contractor on board. I’ll show you around the ship.” Tsanma walks out of the cockpit, pointing to the various rooms of the ship.
Only two crewmembers? I consider as she points to a closed door,
“This is the dorm room you’ll be staying in.” She doesn’t open the door and continues the small tour. After a short time we’re back in the cockpit. “I hope you find the ship acceptable for our short journey.” She sits in the pilot seat and deactivates the auto-pilot.
“I’ll go prepare your quarters my Lady.” Maylak says as she walks out. Half a second later Tsanma turns back to her,
“Wait!” she says, the slight delay of the translators stopped the words from reaching her before she left the cockpit. Tsanma sighs, but just looks forward in her seat.
“What’s the matter? I presume the security guard was in the room but I’m certain Maylak won’t disturb them.”
“That’s not exactly the issue.” she says.
“Well what’s-” I hear a scream come from the back of the ship, my ears shoot up in alert. “Maylak!?” I run out of the cockpit, I hear a loud deep voice yell,
“Fuck, OW!” I almost run into Maylak as she comes sprinting out of the dorms.
“LADY IT- THERE- A- AH-” She speaks erratically, placing a hand on my shoulder. A large body comes from the door, a clawless hand rubs its face as it groans. Maylak scurries behind me. The being is without fur save a long patch that comes from its head to its back, unfamiliar clothes cover most of its body. A single piercing eye peaks through it’s hand.
“Ah, you must be the Countess, and…”, it looks between Maylak and I. Neither of us say anything for a few long moments.
“Are you a human?” I ask. It removes it’s hand from it’s face, revealing it’s second forward facing eye. The gaze is nearly paralyzing, but I maintain my composure.
“Tsanma didn’t explain to you? I’m the security detail.” I feel Maylak release her paw from my shoulder as she slumps to the ground, unconscious.
“A fine mess you’ve made Ryan, and in only a few minutes since we’ve left.” Tsanma’s voice comes from behind me.
“I hardly see how this is my fault.” He says as he walks towards Maylak, he stops right before he’s upon me and says, “Ah, I’m just going to lay her on one of the beds. Also, who is who?” He carefully grabs Maylak under her legs and neck. The sight of the predator holding her shoots fear through me. The only thing keeping me calm is the assurance that the Compact wouldn’t bring a predator if it was a danger to me. I repeated this fact through my head like a mantra.
“The one who didn’t faint is the Countess, Reossa.” Tsanma answers for me, “The one you hold is one of her servants.” The man, Ryan was his name? He looks at Maylak as he listens to Tsanma.
“I see, well if she wakes up in my arms she’ll probably have a heart attack.” He walks into the dorms. I feel my heart rate lower as he leaves my sight. I turn to Tsanma,
“Why a human?” A much more direct question than I hoped for, but the stress made it come out.
“Various reasons, chiefly their intimidation factor. The strength is certainly another qualifier.” She says as if it weren’t a mad calculation. A moment later Ryan comes back from the dorms.
“Also, I’m a really good dancer.” Ryan adds. Tsanma lowers her horn slightly towards him.
“We will not discuss that event in the presence of the Countess.” she says sternly, causing Ryan to give a small, rhythmic growl.
“Anyways, I’m a bit hungry,” he checks his holopad, “I’m eating.” He walks into the kitchen and Tsanma returns to the cockpit. He’s eating? What would he eat? Images of the human tearing into dead flesh made me sick, but a morbid curiosity consumed me.
Certainly they wouldn’t keep flesh on the ship. I peek into the kitchen and see Ryan procuring various tools. He flips a switch on the counter, and a small flame raises from a burner.
“You need something,” he pauses for a moment, considering his words, “countess?” He says unsure, “Sorry I’m not sure what would be an appropriate way to address you.”
“Just Reossa is fine.” I say, I don’t want to make the predator see me as above him, a contender for dominance. “But no, I’m just curious.”
“About?” He procures a small bag from the refrigerator and I sit in a metal chair.
“What you’re making.” I don’t know where the bravado to risk a glimpse of dead flesh came from.
“Oh, I’m making stir fry,” he dumps a small amount of oil into the pan, fat oils? I shutter slightly. “It’s like, well actually the name says it all, basically you put anything in a pan and stir it as it cooks. Though I don’t have a wok so it’s a bit hard.” he tears open the bag and a large amount of mixed Fissan vegetables falls into the pan. “I’m not sure what most of these are called actually. Tsanma keeps on telling me but I never eat any of them separate from the rest. Er, I guess I know the white beans are called urag beans, but that’s it.”
“And that’s all you’re having?” I ask
“Oh, you’re right, I’m missing something.” he returns to the fridge and my heart rate spikes, he must’ve forgotten the flesh. He pulls out a small opaque jar. He returns to the burner and opens the jar, he puts a spoon in and out, a small glob of black goo comes with it. He flicks the substance into the pan.
“What is that?” My eyes are wide, congealed blood?
“Uh, some sort of bean sauce, It’s a bit sweet, I don’t remember what it’s called though.”
“You’re not eating,” I shrink in the seat, “flesh?” I add quietly. He pauses, continuing to stir in the pan. He says nothing for a few moments.
“I know you probably think Tsanma is crazy or whatever for having a predator on board. But it’s not like she’s emotionless, eh? Please don’t go lookin’ at her like you do at me, she wouldn’t keep meat on the ship.” I was relieved for a moment before realizing the implication; he’d keep meat on the ship if he could, it’s merely not allowed. Neither of us speak for a moment.
“Well!” He says suddenly, “Want to try some when it’s done?” He asks. I consider the proposition, I saw everything he added, none of it seemed poisoned or from a living being. I quickly recall the oil he put in,
“What type of oil was that?”
“I don’t know, something fissan probably, Tsanma just called it ‘oil’.”
“Then, I will accept.” We sit in silence for a while until he declares the food ready, he walks towards a small cabinet with securely held bowls and plates. He grabs two bowls and fills them, he places one in front of me and sits across the table.
“I feel a bit bad, I gave you almost half of what I got but,” his eyes run up my body, “you’re about half my size though, so I guess it works out. I hope it’s up to your standards.” He quickly starts eating, when his mouth opens, the slightly lustrous, dulled ends of canines flash into sight. I find my attention drawn to his mouth every time it opens. I take a scoop of the food, various vegetables sit on the spoon, wilted from the heat. I put the spoon in my mouth.
“It’s alright. For someone who doesn’t know what they’re cooking, you did well.” He quickly finishes his food before I’m done half of my own.
“Alright, I’ll be with Tsanma, when you’re done we need to go over sleeping schedules.” I swish my tail to signify I understood, he seems to get what I mean, and leaves.
I slowly eat the rest of the food and look around. The internal design of the fissan ship is unfamiliar to me. I can’t name the food I’m eating. I’m on a ship with a predator. How long had it been since I had felt anything akin to this instability? I feel rootless, lost, betrayed by my nation for reasons completely unknown to me. With the fear of the predator subsiding, I realize it wasn’t the worst of what I felt. Perhaps this is why I stayed and watched him. I wish he was back so I could replace this feeling with fear and detest. I put another spoonful of the food into my mouth. I close my eyes as I chew— a tear falls into the bowl. I had lied; the food was amazing.
Memory transcription subject: Nittal, Takkan Mercenary Date [standardized human time]: November 25th, 2136.
I rhythmically tap a claw on the dashboard of the ship. The Imperium requested we give them the ship’s landing location, the fact that it had landed on the moon was supposedly a big deal. I wasn’t happy to be kept waiting after tailing the fissan ship manually, in real space for such a long time. Suddenly the ship is hailed from Turadus, Laz quickly answers the call. The visage of our contractor appears on screen.
“Hello, the deal is being updated,” I almost yell an objection before he continues, “we’re increasing your pay,” typically the ‘deal being updated’ was code for ‘we’re screwing you’, I quickly calm down “There’s a nevok that was picked up by the fissan ship, we want you to kill her. If you can confirm her death there’s another hundred thousand credits in the deal.”
“We will gladly take that update.” I give.
“Great. Since the ship took such great lengths to avoid detection from the colony, they’ll no doubt be doing the same while leaving. You’ll have plenty of time to intercept them on their path. Do not fail us.” The feed cuts, always so direct these people, but I wasn’t complaining.
The ship is currently resting in a small crevice on the surface of Turadus’ moon. For a bit the ship had been visible with the naked eye. I resist the urge to merely gun the ship down, we’d have to dock in order to capture the fissan agent. That means waiting until they were out of the moon's gravity well. Laz sits in the seat watching the radar, those stimulants were a godsend, neither of us were a bit tired. If anything I felt excited, dangerously so. By the great dissolution, this mission will be a test of will more so than anything.
submitted by Festovious to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
[First]-[Previous]-[Next]
~~~~
Sorry for the delay, I was again busy with a university project. Woe be upon me for I forgot the NOP: in the title.
~~~~
Memory transcription subject: Ryan West, Runner Date [standardized human time]: November 25th, 2136.
It’s hard to tell if you’re moving in space. If there’s no close point of reference it can feel like you’re motionless. The engines run at quarter capacity to lower our heat signature. Even with our target, the green, barren moon of Turadus, in sight I can’t tell if we’re approaching or slowly drifting away. I sink into my seat and close my eyes, a bit tired.
“Would the Nevok actually attack the ship if they detected it?” I ask Tsanma as she manually pilots the ship.
“No, it’s very unlikely they’d take any direct action, especially against a cargo ship. But the intel the Countess can provide will be more useful if the Imperium is unaware that we possess it.”
“I see.” I say halfheartedly. I open my eyes again and the moon seems to have gotten a bit closer.
***
The station comes into view, various metal structures and domes poked from the green rock. The surface of the moon was very jagged, like an emerald badland. I make sure I’m out of view of the camera as Tsanma hails the station. The visage of a masked Nevok appears.
“Hello Compact representative, you are clear to land at bay two.” Tsanma dips her head in response and the feed cuts as quickly as it started.
I head to the back of the ship, I’ll be waiting in the bunks until we leave. We’ve done nothing but stare at a slowly approaching moon for nearly half a day. It's been the most exhausting part of the job so far.
Memory transcription subject: Reossa, Nevok Imperium Countess Date [standardized human time]: November 25th, 2136.
“Oh Lady,” Maylak is on the verge of tears, “must you leave? The estate is so safe.” She holds my bag for me as we walk to the landing bay; she’s not been taking it well.
“The plot came directly from the capital Maylak, it’s safe for now, but it’s only a matter of time before the Imperium sends someone here. Then none of you will be safe.” A small entourage of my personal servants has conglomerated in the steel halls as I walk. Most have taken the news with somber acceptance, but Maylak has been my chambermaid since she was a kitten.
I push through the doors to the bay, the small crowd stopping at the doors. Some cry their final goodbye, some just stand in silence. I see the fissan standing at the top of a small landing platform, she must be the captain. I grab my bag from Maylak who whines and holds it for a moment longer than she should have, I walk towards the ship. As I approach, the fissan dips her head in greeting.
“Hello Lady Roessa, I am Tsanma, a representative of the Fissan Compact.” She says with the flat tone of one who’s recited the phrase a thousand times before.
“Hello Tsanma, I hope my background doesn’t invoke any hostility between us.” I’d weighed my options of who to go to for a long time. In the end the Fissans were the closest, and obviously had a great deal to gain from my cooperation.
“Nonsense, the Compact is always open to those willing to do business.” I almost instinctively voice an objection to the statement. No point in wasting breath defending an empire that wants me dead.
“Alright, please, show me where I’ll be-” I’m cut off by a cry from Maylak, she runs towards me, jumping over a guard who tries to stop her.
“Please Lady, I need to come with you,” she grabs onto one of my paws with both of her own. I’m shocked she’d go this far. I look over to Tsanma pleadingly.
“She can come, we have enough room for the both of you.” she says. I sigh, it had taken a lot of mental preparation for what I thought would be the rest of life servantless, what a waste.
“Then I suppose,” I look to Maylak, “you can come.” she signals joy with her tail. She quickly sprints back into the crowd of servants by the door, and comes back holding her own bag.
“My Lady, you won’t regret it.” She says, holding the small bag.
“You seem prepared.” I give, she holds her ears down in shame though her tail still says joy.
“A very touching scene, but please hurry, we have a schedule to meet.” Tsanma says as she walks back into the ship. Maylak and I follow her in. “I’ll go over everything once we’re voidborne, for now please just sit down.” She mans the ship and the engines begin to lightly rumble. The rumbling quickly eases as we leave the artificial gravity of the station. Tsanma activates auto-pilot and the ship begins a very slow ascent from the moon’s green surface.
“I can’t help but notice the lack of personnel. Where is everyone?” I ask.
“We keep our cargo ship crew light. I’m knowledgeable enough in ship maintenance that a dedicated mechanic is unnecessary. Though currently we have an exceptionally low crew.”
“Who else is there?” Maylak asks.
“Besides myself we have a single security contractor on board. I’ll show you around the ship.” Tsanma walks out of the cockpit, pointing to the various rooms of the ship.
Only two crewmembers? I consider as she points to a closed door,
“This is the dorm room you’ll be staying in.” She doesn’t open the door and continues the small tour. After a short time we’re back in the cockpit. “I hope you find the ship acceptable for our short journey.” She sits in the pilot seat and deactivates the auto-pilot.
“I’ll go prepare your quarters my Lady.” Maylak says as she walks out. Half a second later Tsanma turns back to her,
“Wait!” she says, the slight delay of the translators stopped the words from reaching her before she left the cockpit. Tsanma sighs, but just looks forward in her seat.
“What’s the matter? I presume the security guard was in the room but I’m certain Maylak won’t disturb them.”
“That’s not exactly the issue.” she says.
“Well what’s-” I hear a scream come from the back of the ship, my ears shoot up in alert. “Maylak!?” I run out of the cockpit, I hear a loud deep voice yell,
“Fuck, OW!” I almost run into Maylak as she comes sprinting out of the dorms.
“LADY IT- THERE- A- AH-” She speaks erratically, placing a hand on my shoulder. A large body comes from the door, a clawless hand rubs its face as it groans. Maylak scurries behind me. The being is without fur save a long patch that comes from its head to its back, unfamiliar clothes cover most of its body. A single piercing eye peaks through it’s hand.
“Ah, you must be the Countess, and…”, it looks between Maylak and I. Neither of us say anything for a few long moments.
“Are you a human?” I ask. It removes it’s hand from it’s face, revealing it’s second forward facing eye. The gaze is nearly paralyzing, but I maintain my composure.
“Tsanma didn’t explain to you? I’m the security detail.” I feel Maylak release her paw from my shoulder as she slumps to the ground, unconscious.
“A fine mess you’ve made Ryan, and in only a few minutes since we’ve left.” Tsanma’s voice comes from behind me.
“I hardly see how this is my fault.” He says as he walks towards Maylak, he stops right before he’s upon me and says, “Ah, I’m just going to lay her on one of the beds. Also, who is who?” He carefully grabs Maylak under her legs and neck. The sight of the predator holding her shoots fear through me. The only thing keeping me calm is the assurance that the Compact wouldn’t bring a predator if it was a danger to me. I repeated this fact through my head like a mantra.
“The one who didn’t faint is the Countess, Reossa.” Tsanma answers for me, “The one you hold is one of her servants.” The man, Ryan was his name? He looks at Maylak as he listens to Tsanma.
“I see, well if she wakes up in my arms she’ll probably have a heart attack.” He walks into the dorms. I feel my heart rate lower as he leaves my sight. I turn to Tsanma,
“Why a human?” A much more direct question than I hoped for, but the stress made it come out.
“Various reasons, chiefly their intimidation factor. The strength is certainly another qualifier.” She says as if it weren’t a mad calculation. A moment later Ryan comes back from the dorms.
“Also, I’m a really good dancer.” Ryan adds. Tsanma lowers her horn slightly towards him.
“We will not discuss that event in the presence of the Countess.” she says sternly, causing Ryan to give a small, rhythmic growl.
“Anyways, I’m a bit hungry,” he checks his holopad, “I’m eating.” He walks into the kitchen and Tsanma returns to the cockpit. He’s eating? What would he eat? Images of the human tearing into dead flesh made me sick, but a morbid curiosity consumed me.
Certainly they wouldn’t keep flesh on the ship. I peek into the kitchen and see Ryan procuring various tools. He flips a switch on the counter, and a small flame raises from a burner.
“You need something,” he pauses for a moment, considering his words, “countess?” He says unsure, “Sorry I’m not sure what would be an appropriate way to address you.”
“Just Reossa is fine.” I say, I don’t want to make the predator see me as above him, a contender for dominance. “But no, I’m just curious.”
“About?” He procures a small bag from the refrigerator and I sit in a metal chair.
“What you’re making.” I don’t know where the bravado to risk a glimpse of dead flesh came from.
“Oh, I’m making stir fry,” he dumps a small amount of oil into the pan, fat oils? I shutter slightly. “It’s like, well actually the name says it all, basically you put anything in a pan and stir it as it cooks. Though I don’t have a wok so it’s a bit hard.” he tears open the bag and a large amount of mixed Fissan vegetables falls into the pan. “I’m not sure what most of these are called actually. Tsanma keeps on telling me but I never eat any of them separate from the rest. Er, I guess I know the white beans are called urag beans, but that’s it.”
“And that’s all you’re having?” I ask
“Oh, you’re right, I’m missing something.” he returns to the fridge and my heart rate spikes, he must’ve forgotten the flesh. He pulls out a small opaque jar. He returns to the burner and opens the jar, he puts a spoon in and out, a small glob of black goo comes with it. He flicks the substance into the pan.
“What is that?” My eyes are wide, congealed blood?
“Uh, some sort of bean sauce, It’s a bit sweet, I don’t remember what it’s called though.”
“You’re not eating,” I shrink in the seat, “flesh?” I add quietly. He pauses, continuing to stir in the pan. He says nothing for a few moments.
“I know you probably think Tsanma is crazy or whatever for having a predator on board. But it’s not like she’s emotionless, eh? Please don’t go lookin’ at her like you do at me, she wouldn’t keep meat on the ship.” I was relieved for a moment before realizing the implication; he’d keep meat on the ship if he could, it’s merely not allowed. Neither of us speak for a moment.
“Well!” He says suddenly, “Want to try some when it’s done?” He asks. I consider the proposition, I saw everything he added, none of it seemed poisoned or from a living being. I quickly recall the oil he put in,
“What type of oil was that?”
“I don’t know, something fissan probably, Tsanma just called it ‘oil’.”
“Then, I will accept.” We sit in silence for a while until he declares the food ready, he walks towards a small cabinet with securely held bowls and plates. He grabs two bowls and fills them, he places one in front of me and sits across the table.
“I feel a bit bad, I gave you almost half of what I got but,” his eyes run up my body, “you’re about half my size though, so I guess it works out. I hope it’s up to your standards.” He quickly starts eating, when his mouth opens, the slightly lustrous, dulled ends of canines flash into sight. I find my attention drawn to his mouth every time it opens. I take a scoop of the food, various vegetables sit on the spoon, wilted from the heat. I put the spoon in my mouth.
“It’s alright. For someone who doesn’t know what they’re cooking, you did well.” He quickly finishes his food before I’m done half of my own.
“Alright, I’ll be with Tsanma, when you’re done we need to go over sleeping schedules.” I swish my tail to signify I understood, he seems to get what I mean, and leaves.
I slowly eat the rest of the food and look around. The internal design of the fissan ship is unfamiliar to me. I can’t name the food I’m eating. I’m on a ship with a predator. How long had it been since I had felt anything akin to this instability? I feel rootless, lost, betrayed by my nation for reasons completely unknown to me. With the fear of the predator subsiding, I realize it wasn’t the worst of what I felt. Perhaps this is why I stayed and watched him. I wish he was back so I could replace this feeling with fear and detest. I put another spoonful of the food into my mouth. I close my eyes as I chew— a tear falls into the bowl. I had lied; the food was amazing.
Memory transcription subject: Nittal, Takkan Mercenary Date [standardized human time]: November 25th, 2136.
I rhythmically tap a claw on the dashboard of the ship. The Imperium requested we give them the ship’s landing location, the fact that it had landed on the moon was supposedly a big deal. I wasn’t happy to be kept waiting after tailing the fissan ship manually, in real space for such a long time. Suddenly the ship is hailed from Turadus, Laz quickly answers the call. The visage of our contractor appears on screen.
“Hello, the deal is being updated,” I almost yell an objection before he continues, “we’re increasing your pay,” typically the ‘deal being updated’ was code for ‘we’re screwing you’, I quickly calm down “There’s a nevok that was picked up by the fissan ship, we want you to kill her. If you can confirm her death there’s another hundred thousand credits in the deal.”
“We will gladly take that update.” I give.
“Great. Since the ship took such great lengths to avoid detection from the colony, they’ll no doubt be doing the same while leaving. You’ll have plenty of time to intercept them on their path. Do not fail us.” The feed cuts, always so direct these people, but I wasn’t complaining.
The ship is currently resting in a small crevice on the surface of Turadus’ moon. For a bit the ship had been visible with the naked eye. I resist the urge to merely gun the ship down, we’d have to dock in order to capture the fissan agent. That means waiting until they were out of the moon's gravity well. Laz sits in the seat watching the radar, those stimulants were a godsend, neither of us were a bit tired. If anything I felt excited, dangerously so. By the great dissolution, this mission will be a test of will more so than anything.
2023.03.21 18:00 singabore [US-NY] [H] Keyboards (LZ-MP, Volcano, Bumpers, Angel, Thermal, Singa), Keycaps(GMK Coral, SA Chronicler) Artisans [W] Paypal, Artisans
Hello friends, got some stuff to let go of. Here's a timestamp
PRICES ARE OBO AND DO NOT INCLUDE SHIPPING.
Comment before PM
Keyboards
Keycaps
Artisans closeup
Here's an artisan wishlist
submitted by singabore to mechmarket [link] [comments]
PRICES ARE OBO AND DO NOT INCLUDE SHIPPING.
Comment before PM
Keyboards
| Maker | Model | ColoSpecs | Extras? | Price | Avail? |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Zap Cables | Bumper | Aluminum built with Zealios on a Copper Plate | No | $350 | Ye |
| Zap Cables | Bumper | Polycarbonate built with Gat Yellows on a Polycarbonate Plate | No | $400 | Ye |
| CableCarDesigns | Angel | Black with PP plate | No | $450 | Ye |
| wilba.tech | Thermal | Red built with Raeds on a Polycarbonate Plate | No | $600 | Ye |
| iLUMKB | Volcano660 | E-White built with Creams on a Brass plate | No | $800 | Ye |
| Foxlabs | Time80 RE | Sky Blue wit h regular Aluminum Plate | No | $600 | Ye |
| TX keyboards | TX60 | Antique Copper built with Creams on an Aluminum plate | No | $700 | Ye |
| Yoot | Calliope | Silver unbuilt with Aluminum plate | No | $700 | Ye |
| Singa | Singa V3 | Polycarb built with Alpacas on a Brass Plate | No | $750 | Ye |
| LZ | Masterpiece | Silver built with Vint blacks on red Aluminum plate and hiney pcb | stock pcb included. | $3500 | Ye |
Keycaps
| Maker | Set | Kits | Condition | Price | Avail? |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Signature Plastics | SA Chronicler | Base | 2nd Owner, no shine | $150 | Ye |
| GMK | Coral | Base/Novelties/Coral relief alphas | Used Sparingly, no shine | $400 | Ye |
Artisans closeup
| Maker | Sculpt | Colorway | Price | Avail? |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Tokkipee | R1 Blank | Tidal Pistachio | $30 | Ye |
| Nightcaps | R1 Blank | Neon Sherbet | $30 each | Ye |
| JAK | The Dude + R1 Blank | Big Apple | $40 | Ye |
| Ono.Key | Naru | Shellbrain | $50 | Ye |
| FRUMPZKEYS | Runeclack | Glory | $60 | Ye |
| Tokkipee | Sakura | Various | $70 | Ye |
| Ko Caps | Aerophant | Deadpool | $70 | Ye |
| Ko Caps | Aerophant | Hyperfuse | $70 | Ye |
| Ko Caps | Aerophant + R1 Blank | Flurry | $80 | Ye |
| Sodiecaps | Jamjams | Moogle | $80 | Ye |
| S-craft | Pokemon | Various | $90 each | Ye |
| CYSM | Ice Cube | Various | $100 each | Ye |
| JAK | Noodle | Ink Stained | $120 | Ye |
| JAK | Cuddles | Ink Stained | $120 | Ye |
| JAK | Birb | Ink Stained | $120 | Ye |
| Nightcaps | Eggface v2 | Island Wind | $120 | Ye |
| Nightcaps | Eggface v2 | 420 | $120 | Ye |
| Nightcaps | Nest Egg | ? | $150 | Ye |
| CYSM | Boba | Various | $150 each | Ye |
| Deathcaps | Bad Lucks | Various | $150 each | Ye |
| Hunger Work Studio | Popsi | Sweet Streak | $170 | Ye |
| CYSM | Keyby | White Rabbit Candy | $200 | Ye |
| CYSM | Olifus | Hanami Dango set | $500 for the set | Ye |
2023.03.21 17:46 Hillkwaj How to raise Viking downdraft for repair?
Viking VDD5360SS
I've got a Viking downdraft where the up/down switch has gotten broken and the unit is no longer going up/down. It's stuck in the down position and I need to get it to the up position to replace the flex circuits and switch. Any idea how to raise it? I've tried unplugging it and just pulling it up, but no joy. From the parts diagram I can't see any reasonable way to get to either end of the linear up/down actuator to disconnect without essentially disassembling the entire unit under the cabinet, pulling out my cooktop, etc. Appreciate any suggestions.
submitted by Hillkwaj to appliancerepair [link] [comments]
I've got a Viking downdraft where the up/down switch has gotten broken and the unit is no longer going up/down. It's stuck in the down position and I need to get it to the up position to replace the flex circuits and switch. Any idea how to raise it? I've tried unplugging it and just pulling it up, but no joy. From the parts diagram I can't see any reasonable way to get to either end of the linear up/down actuator to disconnect without essentially disassembling the entire unit under the cabinet, pulling out my cooktop, etc. Appreciate any suggestions.
2023.03.21 17:35 ohsnapperdoodles How do I introduce a kennel to a cat?
I have an almost two year old cat that I’ve had since he was a kitten. I love this cat or death but he has some behavior issues which myself and the vet think developed when he was a kitten with terrible gastro issues upon adopting him from the humane society.
When I adopted him, he came home with loose stools that would not firm up. I tried everything my vet recommended and by the time he reached about 1 years old we finally got that issue sorted out but it was a hellish first year for everyone involved.
The next issue is this cat chews on everything. And I mean everything. Cords, couches, plastic, cabinets, chairs, ,clothes, everything. The vet thinks the chewing came from the gastro issues he had as a kitten. The vet told me when they have an upset stomach, chewing helps to relieve that feeling and since he had so many issues that first year, it seems to have stuck as a permanent behavior.
I have tried everything I and the vet can think of to curb the chewing to no avail. It got the the point that the vet put him on some medicine and it didn’t barely made a dent.
After the chewing started to become a permanent behavior, I could not leave him unattended for fear of him getting something to chew on and swallowing it and causing himself harm. When he cannot be watched, he goes into the laundry room with all of the items he may need (water, litter box, toys, etc). This is mainly overnight and an occasional errand and he sleeps pretty well throughout the night but has taken to chewing on the cabinets and shelves in the laundry room and they are getting pretty bad on the corners. I rent my house so he has started to cause some damage that will be hard to fix.
I also have a golden retriever who used to be kenneled but has since stopped using the kennel and is a free range dog. I thought maybe the kennel could be a better option for the cat overnight as it is not wood and if it somehow gets ruined I don’t really care.
I pulled it out of storage last night and set it up and the cat seemed super interested in it and went in the kennel and laid down and snoozed for a bit. At bed time I put him in there with the door closed and let him stay for a bit but he was pretty distressed so I let him out and he went into his room for the remainder of the night and settled down right away.
Would the kennel be a good option for the cat overnight and how can I introduce him to the kennel without scarring him? I want this to be a good experience for him and to keep him safe from himself but I’m honestly not sure where to start.
submitted by ohsnapperdoodles to CatAdvice [link] [comments]
When I adopted him, he came home with loose stools that would not firm up. I tried everything my vet recommended and by the time he reached about 1 years old we finally got that issue sorted out but it was a hellish first year for everyone involved.
The next issue is this cat chews on everything. And I mean everything. Cords, couches, plastic, cabinets, chairs, ,clothes, everything. The vet thinks the chewing came from the gastro issues he had as a kitten. The vet told me when they have an upset stomach, chewing helps to relieve that feeling and since he had so many issues that first year, it seems to have stuck as a permanent behavior.
I have tried everything I and the vet can think of to curb the chewing to no avail. It got the the point that the vet put him on some medicine and it didn’t barely made a dent.
After the chewing started to become a permanent behavior, I could not leave him unattended for fear of him getting something to chew on and swallowing it and causing himself harm. When he cannot be watched, he goes into the laundry room with all of the items he may need (water, litter box, toys, etc). This is mainly overnight and an occasional errand and he sleeps pretty well throughout the night but has taken to chewing on the cabinets and shelves in the laundry room and they are getting pretty bad on the corners. I rent my house so he has started to cause some damage that will be hard to fix.
I also have a golden retriever who used to be kenneled but has since stopped using the kennel and is a free range dog. I thought maybe the kennel could be a better option for the cat overnight as it is not wood and if it somehow gets ruined I don’t really care.
I pulled it out of storage last night and set it up and the cat seemed super interested in it and went in the kennel and laid down and snoozed for a bit. At bed time I put him in there with the door closed and let him stay for a bit but he was pretty distressed so I let him out and he went into his room for the remainder of the night and settled down right away.
Would the kennel be a good option for the cat overnight and how can I introduce him to the kennel without scarring him? I want this to be a good experience for him and to keep him safe from himself but I’m honestly not sure where to start.
2023.03.21 17:32 heroesdesignbuildoak Creative storage ideas to integrate into your bathroom remodeling project
 | submitted by heroesdesignbuildoak to u/heroesdesignbuildoak [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/0ltly1dbd4pa1.png?width=800&format=png&auto=webp&s=1baa15146468333c2d98d23cee8ccefb7461e58e Heroes Design & Build Oakland understands that incorporating effective storage solutions is integral to any bathroom remodeling project. By utilizing built-in features, such as recessed shelves and cabinets, you can provide a vast amount of room for towels, toiletries, and other necessary items. Another option is to utilize under-the-sink storage, including pull-out drawers and adjustable shelving, to make the most of the available space. Finally, we encourage clients to consider incorporating unique storage options, such as a custom-made vanity with built-in storage or a combination of open and closed storage to create a visually appealing and practical design. By incorporating these creative storage ideas, we can help clients achieve a bathroom that is not only beautiful but also highly functional and organized. Heroes Design & Build Oakland 3300 Birdsall ave, Oakland, CA, 94619 (510) 4057011 https://www.heroesdesignbuild.com/ https://www.bing.com/maps?ss=ypid.YN873x7633709308936967180&mkt=en-US&cp=37.789981%7E-122.189941&lvl=13.0 |
2023.03.21 17:20 keithplacer S16 The Action House: The Ravages of Age
 | submitted by keithplacer to Thisoldhouse [link] [comments] 100 Martin St. before any work began The major project of season 16 was The Acton House, a 1710 former farmhouse that was the oldest house in Acton, once part of a large farm most of which had been sold off over the years, and which now sat on 5 acres of quite attractive property at 100 Martin Street. The homeowners were Terry Maitland, trained as a journalist and historian, now a broker of high-dollar luxury homes, and Sima Maitland, a schoolteacher. Their house was largely original and while it looked large from the outside, the interior spaces were cramped and dated, with low ceilings and inadequate space for them and their three children, thanks in part due to the intrusion of the massive central chimney stack. A new addition off the east side was deemed the answer, and the Maitlands were prepared to contribute $150,000 to the project. A preliminary examination of the house by Norm and Tom revealed some dubious structure but they vowed not to try to fix every problem and only deal with what was necessary to accommodate the new addition. Ah, dreams… Homeowners Terry and Sima Maitland in a very '90s-looking shot The first order of business was getting a set of plans, so Chris Dallmus of Jock Gifford's Design Associates firm was called in and after numerous iterations, came up with plans for a 2-storey addition off the east side of the old place with a master suite, new kitchen, mud room, and family room. The old milk shed that currently occupied the site needed to be relocated, and proved to be an entertaining use of the Silva's creativity in sliding it out of the way using skids and a dump truck. Herb Brockert of Construction Services Co. arrived with his big excavator to dig the large hole the new addition required as Norm and Tom began to realize the existing house was so crooked that it was going to be a challenge to mate with the new structure. Meanwhile another big hole was dug for the new septic system that was also deemed necessary for the project. The Silvas slide the milk shed to its temporary location Tom and Norm assessed the scope of the demolition needed in the old house. The amount of slope in some of the floors was extreme, and the carpenters were against trying to fix very much of it at risk of blowing the budget. But as excavation continued, the issues involved with the old stone foundation and terribly compromised structure made those vows weaken. Many of the original beams and sills were rotted, and alterations over the years resulted in what Norm called a “terrifying” situation with the entire building slowly sliding towards the backyard. Tom devised a support structure to allow the house to be jacked up enough to replace the rotted sills that they originally weren’t going to repair. With the house so supported, the old stone foundation adjacent to the new addition was pretty much demolished in short order by hand with just a bit of help from the heavy equipment. Mel Zimmerman of Superior Walls supplied his precast concrete foundation sections for the new crawl space and the team was amazed at how quickly it all came together. Before they could celebrate too much, they had to deal with more of the old house’s structural issues. A trip to Concord showed what could be done if you had deep enough pockets with the mind-blowing reconstruction of the old Stratton Tavern originally in Northfield, MA and relocated piece by piece to the new Concord site. The owner was only identified as Anna, but Brian Cooper was the remarkable restoration contractor who took great pains to make the new look old. While the cost must have been astronomical, for me this was one of the more memorable places ever shown on TOH, and I would love to learn more about it, but information about it is remarkably elusive. The mysterious Anna and contractor Brian New addition off the back attached to a reconstructed 18th century addition The reconstructed Stratton Tavern and new additions in Concord The original Stratton Tavern before relocation Framing of the new addition moved quickly even with a gigantic steel beam needing to go down the center of the first floor ceiling, and soon the new spaces began to take shape. A bit of a cloud appeared when one of the Maitland children showed an elevated level of lead in the blood, leading to an analysis of lead paint in the old house. Isolated sections inside were found to have elevated levels of lead although most did not, but all of the windows on the exterior were far above limits. Meanwhile more good intentions vanished as Tom decided to demolish the back corner of the old house, saying correctly that there was nothing to save. Quickly, new Andersen windows went in, the new stairs to the second floor were built, and rotted beams in the second floor ceiling were replaced with more new structure. In what must have been a slow period for the project, Norm took a lengthy visit to the Porter-Cable tool factory in Tennessee, which must have paid for a lot of biscuit joiners. Tom even made use of one of those in trimming windows. The heretofore largely mute Charlie Silva made one of his first on-screen speaking performances on this project, still sounding exactly like he does today. Tom demonstrated his famous swinging story pole trick to get the clapboard spacing correct, an early example of his ingenuity in construction. An tour of the new MBR space showed an area that didn’t seem overly generous and had the typical TOH phone booth shower stall, but it was certainly an upgrade over what the Maitlands had previously. Because of the lead paint issues, the homeowners decided to replace all 27 windows in the old parts of the house with new modern replacements, a decision that would have budget implications far beyond the windows themselves. Meanwhile the apparently accidental discovery of an old well led to that being recommissioned for irrigation purposes. Glenn Berger returned as kitchen designer, this time dealing with high-end Kennebec Company cabinetry for the new kitchen. Sima insisted on cherry. When replacement of the old windows began, all good budget intentions quickly went out the windows. The installation of them was expensive in itself, with the original clapboards needing to be laboriously trimmed to fit the new exterior trim. On the front of the house, Norm found the clapboards there to in such bad shape thanks to their southern exposure that the decision was made to scrap them all and replace with new. When that was begun, more major structural problems were discovered, with rotted sills and posts galore, which explained the bulge in that wall that was noted in the first episode. The old sheathing under the clapboards was stripped off to reveal problems with rot and damage in the wall structure along with very questionable building methods, all of which required more jacking of the house to fix. Bee nests were found in the blown-in cellulose insulation which would also need to be replaced, something I found odd given that cellulose is usually treated to resist insects. Even with the repairs being done, the front wall would continue to lean back about 4”, something that they just could not fix, and they had to stop short of replacing all the sills due to cost. Tom noted that at this stage the budget had increased to $195,000 given all the changes and surprises. At least the TOH requisite central vacuum system was donated by Vacuflo, saving the homeowners $1000. Meanwhile the Maitlands wanted a new exterior paint scheme, so Steve visited Deerfield MA with architectural conservator Bill Flynt to look at various preserved examples of 18th-century homes, along with providing some history of the community in those times, an interesting segment. In the end, the Maitlands decided upon a pumpkin color that they saw on a house in a nearby town, with trim in a straw shade. Roger Cook and his crew arrived to install some drainage around the perimeter of the house, build a walkway to the mud room entrance, and re-do the lawn using a hydroseeding contractor. The homeowners also decided to replace the roof shingles on the original part of the house to match those used on the addition, which Tom said required lots of work to repair the rot in the roof sheathing first. Stephen Roy, a preservation stonemason, declared the existing fireplaces to be in mostly good shape aside from the one in the old kitchen needing some repair, but found that the exposed part of the chimney stack above the roof needed to be rebuilt as it had been subject to improper repairs some time earlier, a job he estimated at $5000. Lenny Belliveau built an elaborate staging to take down the old 5-flue chimney to a level just below the roofline and then reconstruct it with new brick. Lenny Belliveau and his staging (below) https://preview.redd.it/2pzmvx8o64pa1.jpg?width=1415&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=60b2d5cc734c1bfe28587b045b6fa48c60397619 Electrician Paul Kennedy was back on the project, and he was not a big fan of the steel studs Tom used in some of the new portions of the house. The costs were adding up fast, but luckily the Maitlands got a break on the then-new type of spray foam insulation from Insealators which was featured as a donation. Architect Chris Dallmus enlisted Norm and his workshop to build a new, though now mostly ceremonial, front entrance inspired by examples found in the area. Sima wanted old-style wood floors in her new kitchen, and Norm visited North Fields Restorations in New Hampshire, a recycler of old buildings and their materials, to see what they could supply and found the perfect old pine for the job. Once Lenny was finished rebuilding the chimney top, Rich, Steve, and Bobby from Trethewey Bros. installed a stainless flexible flue liner to solve condensation problems and provide for safe operation of the furnace. Sima selected slate bathroom floor tile sourced from the now-defunct Shep Brown Associates and Mark, Joe and Chuck of Ferrante Bros. did the installation. Joe was frustrated with the time involved in grouting the uneven slates, which looked like a pain. Jeff Hosking was back to install the antique (and magnificent-looking) antique pine floors in the new addition, at a staggering 1994 cost of about $20 per sq. ft. A boo-boo occurred when Terry, following a tip from Norm, visited a twin to his house that had its dining room ceiling exposed to the upstairs floor and beams by its owners, which not only added some much-needed headroom but also gave a look he envied. He decided to do the same at his house, but when they removed the ceiling, they found a bit of a mess with hacked-up joists and a disfigured summer beam, so it was back to the drawing board and another budget hit. The new entry door built by Norm and Tom encountered problems upon installation since the front wall of the house was leaning back so severely, leading them to build a subframe behind it that partly compensated for the angle. The Kennebec Company cherry cabinets were beautiful with a satin finish, and the Glenn Berger layout seemed ideal, although they used an unusual mix of stone and laminate for the counters. Steve visited the cabinet factory in Bath, ME for a tour in return for their donation. As finishes began to be revealed, the requisite TOH phone booth shower was seen in the MBR bathroom and we saw Rich install yet another toilet. Tom replaced the DR ceiling that was torn down and it looked good, but he did sound a note of caution about the costs of everything – each of the 27 original windows that were replaced cost about $800 once new trim and wall repairs were taken into account, and Terry revealed that when counting the $120,000 in donations, the total cost of the project was over $300,000, a sum that would be more than double that today. Hopefully he had a good tax accountant to minimize his tax liability on that donation amount. Thankfully the expensive brass Baldwin door hardware was part of those donations thanks to a factory visit feature. The last 2 of the total 18 episodes of the project felt a little strange, with the usual somewhat dragged-out pieces with interior designers and decorative painters, but also some somewhat jarring segments. After not seeing them for the entire project, both landscape designer Tom Wirth and lighting expert Melissa Guenet showed up in the final episode to play catch-up. Even more jarring was an exterior walkaround with Tommy and Norm that was all about what was left undone. Major (and according to the way they delivered the message, urgent) work was needed on the rest of the sills and bearing structures below the old house to keep it from continuing to sag and twist, and the old cow barn, which we had only seen from a distance previously, was deemed by Tom to be dangerously unsupported and so unsafe that it shouldn’t even be walked into, and needed to be taken down. All in all, a bit of a down note. A walkthough of the finished spaces was more upbeat, with the remains of the old kitchen now being a rather cozy sitting area, the old upstairs bath now brought up to date, the surprisingly small-looking MBR space being pleasant enough albeit over-decorated, and the new kitchen and family room being apparently what was asked for, though it was hard to tell given the crush of people occupying it during the wrap party. We did not see what happened to some of the other old spaces in the original house, likely because that had not been determined at that point. The finished project circa 1995 The Maitlands have continued to live in the house ever since, and hopefully those urgent needs have been taken care of. I liked them as homeowners, and I enjoyed the project for the most part, particularly for seeing the repair work that Tom and Norm undertook on the horrible structural problems. It’s the kind of thing we generally don’t see on the show these days, and the project helped illustrate the money pit that a very old house can become. |
2023.03.21 15:48 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, Kara Gamma, BFK Freehand, BFK Bright Water, Spec Gloves Kimono, Nomad Fade, M9 Doppler, Skeleton, BFK B.Steel, AWP Fade, Stiletto Fade, S.Gloves Slingshot, BFK Ultra, Kara Damas, Bayo Lore, Bayo Gamma, Flip Fade & A Lot More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $1867
★ Butterfly Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $1098
★ Butterfly Knife Blue Steel BS, B/O: $907
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $789
★ Butterfly Knife Stained FT, B/O: $695
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $888
★ Bayonet Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $727
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $608
★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $521
★ Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $253
★ Bayonet Night FT, B/O: $251
★ StatTrak™ Bayonet Lore MW, B/O: $751
⎯★ Karambit Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1343
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $774
★ Karambit Rust Coat BS, B/O: $537
★ Karambit Boreal Forest FT, B/O: $488
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523
★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1008
★ M9 Bayonet Blue Steel FT, B/O: $534
★ M9 Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $449
⎯★ Flip Knife Fade FN, B/O: $703
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $509
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $406
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $228
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $332
⎯★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $292
★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $264
★ Falchion Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Falchion Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $133
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Fade FN, B/O: $822
★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $569
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $530
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $396
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $172
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $830
★ Gut Knife Fade FN, B/O: $204
★ Gut Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $138
★ Gut Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $104
★ Gut Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $92
★ Gut Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $82
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $93
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $258
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $165
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Bright Water FT, B/O: $82
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel WW, B/O: $80
★ Shadow Daggers Rust Coat BS, B/O: $74
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade FN, B/O: $186
⎯★ Classic Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $311
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $163
⎯★ Talon Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $605
★ Talon Knife Scorched MW, B/O: $290
⎯★ Ursus Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $405
★ Ursus Knife Night Stripe MW, B/O: $162
⎯★ Paracord Knife Stained WW, B/O: $125
★ Paracord Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
★ Paracord Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $96
⎯★ Navaja Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $71
★ Navaja Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $71
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1015
★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $909
★ Bowie Knife Boreal Forest MW, B/O: $106
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $335
★ Driver Gloves King Snake BS, B/O: $270
★ Driver Gloves Lunar Weave WW, B/O: $113
★ Driver Gloves Overtake WW, B/O: $88
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $67
⎯★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $171
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $137
★ Moto Gloves Transport WW, B/O: $71
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $62
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1027
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $654
★ Specialist Gloves Mogul FT, B/O: $295
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $277
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web FT, B/O: $275
⎯★ Sport Gloves Slingshot FT, B/O: $796
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $699
★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $656
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Unhinged BS, B/O: $60
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $864
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $84
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69
AWP Wildfire FT, B/O: $59
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $59
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565
Desert Eagle Printstream FN, B/O: $155
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $58
⎯M4A1-S Icarus Fell FN, B/O: $414
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1402
M4A4 The Emperor FN, B/O: $152
M4A4 Asiimov WW, B/O: $97
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $65
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $123
StatTrak™ USP-S Neo-Noir FN, B/O: $106
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $218
P2000 Ocean Foam FN, B/O: $139
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike MW, B/O: $81
CZ75-Auto Emerald Quartz MW, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.03.21 15:43 DoctorSuperZero Future 17 - Reason & Revelry
Xan is the world's most dangerous criminal mastermind. He’s also in hiding and completely broke. That’s fine. He’s between master plans. It’s normal to be at rock bottom between master plans. He also forgets stuff and may be trapped in a dream.
Because at night, Xan thinks he’s an old lady, trapped in a dingy apartment, by an angry fellow who wants to kill her. Not her idea of a good time, but she’s keeping an open mind. It is excitingly visceral. Could turn out awesome.
Safe is a sci-fi, progression, comedy. Guaranteed to cause more mental problems than it solves.
Each chapter will follow our hero through an awesome, weird, and highly probable future. All the tech in the book is possible now - we just need someone crazy enough to try it.
Safe is posted on Royal Road. Check out the first chapters:
Future 1 - Body Sculpting Drugs & Kleptocracy
Future 2 - Dreaming With Strangers
Future 3 - Insect Doctors & Societal Minimalism
Future 4 - Self Crashing Cars & Automatic Friendly Fire
Future 5 - Super Vision Eye Drops & The Lonely Dead
Future 6 - Kamikaze Drones & Petty Crime
Future 7 - Phone Stalking & Gene Swapping
Future 8 - Personality As Parasite & Relentless Warmongers
Future 9 - Flying Holograms & The Human Distress Database
Future 10 - Cheerful Nihilism & Inescapable Mind Reading Surveillance
Future 11 - Sniper Bots & Blackmarket Personality Profiles
Future 12 - System Destruction & Celebrity Sex
Future 13 - Taser Drones and Self Replicating Robots
Future 14 - Rented Necessities & Automated Attacks
Future 15 - Tenacious Griefers & Odd Walkers
Future 16 - Nuclear Weaponry & Healthy Boundaries
Future 17 - Reason & Revelry
Also, below is a sample of Chapter 16.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dark City - Luxury Chimpanzee Compound
“So, you’re a super intelligent monkey?”
“I wouldn’t say super.” Socrates shrugs. “I get by.”
I woke to safety. Can’t remember the last time that happened. Are there psychos wailing at the compound's perimeter? Maybe. I can’t hear them.
It’s breakfast time, and I’m enjoying some with Socrates and Slim (who’s real name is Henry). Fried goo with bacon crunch. Traditional. Henry fusses over the food and worries that Socrates isn’t eating enough. Socrates doles out pills and bitches that Henry’s been missing doses. They’re adorable.
There’s a rifle on the table. Henry shuffled out with it this morning. I was excited until I got a look at it. It’s an antique. No, that’s not right. Antiques are valuable. It’s a piece of shit.
“What happened to this gun?” I open the lever and peer down the barrel. “Where’s the rifling?”
“Kinda wore off. Been shot a few times.” Henry shrugged. “It was my Uncle Neil’s gun. He worked at the slaughterhouse.”
“Does it rattle when you shoot it?”
“Well, the bullet comes out pretty much sideways, but it’ll still poke a hole in a guy. If you’re not too picky about who it is.”
“Why have you kept this?”
“Sometimes I miss Uncle Neil.” He pulls out a knapsack stuffed with tarnished ammo. “Load’er up.”
So, we got armed and started breakfast. I apologized to Socrates and he was cool. Said questions were normal. So now I’m asking more. Really curious about this talking monkey.
“So you had a chimp mom and a human dad?”
“Ack.” Both men are horrified. “Jesus lady, we’re trying to eat here.”
“Sorry, I thought this was a cross breeding situation.”
“Why?”
I point at the kitchen wall and its angry indoor graffiti - THE BREEDING PROGRAM HAS BEEN CANCELED!!!
Socrates frowns. “It doesn’t say cross breeding.”
“Sorry. The graffiti is powerfully emotive but kinda vague. Raises more questions than it answers.”
Henry scowls. “Fuck’s sake, Soca. Tell her how to make smart monkeys before these fucking questions ruin breakfast.”
-----------------------------------------------------------
That's probably enough. Check out the rest at - Future 17 - Reason & Revelry
submitted by DoctorSuperZero to HFY [link] [comments]
Because at night, Xan thinks he’s an old lady, trapped in a dingy apartment, by an angry fellow who wants to kill her. Not her idea of a good time, but she’s keeping an open mind. It is excitingly visceral. Could turn out awesome.
Safe is a sci-fi, progression, comedy. Guaranteed to cause more mental problems than it solves.
Each chapter will follow our hero through an awesome, weird, and highly probable future. All the tech in the book is possible now - we just need someone crazy enough to try it.
Safe is posted on Royal Road. Check out the first chapters:
Future 1 - Body Sculpting Drugs & Kleptocracy
Future 2 - Dreaming With Strangers
Future 3 - Insect Doctors & Societal Minimalism
Future 4 - Self Crashing Cars & Automatic Friendly Fire
Future 5 - Super Vision Eye Drops & The Lonely Dead
Future 6 - Kamikaze Drones & Petty Crime
Future 7 - Phone Stalking & Gene Swapping
Future 8 - Personality As Parasite & Relentless Warmongers
Future 9 - Flying Holograms & The Human Distress Database
Future 10 - Cheerful Nihilism & Inescapable Mind Reading Surveillance
Future 11 - Sniper Bots & Blackmarket Personality Profiles
Future 12 - System Destruction & Celebrity Sex
Future 13 - Taser Drones and Self Replicating Robots
Future 14 - Rented Necessities & Automated Attacks
Future 15 - Tenacious Griefers & Odd Walkers
Future 16 - Nuclear Weaponry & Healthy Boundaries
Future 17 - Reason & Revelry
Also, below is a sample of Chapter 16.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dark City - Luxury Chimpanzee Compound
“So, you’re a super intelligent monkey?”
“I wouldn’t say super.” Socrates shrugs. “I get by.”
I woke to safety. Can’t remember the last time that happened. Are there psychos wailing at the compound's perimeter? Maybe. I can’t hear them.
It’s breakfast time, and I’m enjoying some with Socrates and Slim (who’s real name is Henry). Fried goo with bacon crunch. Traditional. Henry fusses over the food and worries that Socrates isn’t eating enough. Socrates doles out pills and bitches that Henry’s been missing doses. They’re adorable.
There’s a rifle on the table. Henry shuffled out with it this morning. I was excited until I got a look at it. It’s an antique. No, that’s not right. Antiques are valuable. It’s a piece of shit.
“What happened to this gun?” I open the lever and peer down the barrel. “Where’s the rifling?”
“Kinda wore off. Been shot a few times.” Henry shrugged. “It was my Uncle Neil’s gun. He worked at the slaughterhouse.”
“Does it rattle when you shoot it?”
“Well, the bullet comes out pretty much sideways, but it’ll still poke a hole in a guy. If you’re not too picky about who it is.”
“Why have you kept this?”
“Sometimes I miss Uncle Neil.” He pulls out a knapsack stuffed with tarnished ammo. “Load’er up.”
So, we got armed and started breakfast. I apologized to Socrates and he was cool. Said questions were normal. So now I’m asking more. Really curious about this talking monkey.
“So you had a chimp mom and a human dad?”
“Ack.” Both men are horrified. “Jesus lady, we’re trying to eat here.”
“Sorry, I thought this was a cross breeding situation.”
“Why?”
I point at the kitchen wall and its angry indoor graffiti - THE BREEDING PROGRAM HAS BEEN CANCELED!!!
Socrates frowns. “It doesn’t say cross breeding.”
“Sorry. The graffiti is powerfully emotive but kinda vague. Raises more questions than it answers.”
Henry scowls. “Fuck’s sake, Soca. Tell her how to make smart monkeys before these fucking questions ruin breakfast.”
-----------------------------------------------------------
That's probably enough. Check out the rest at - Future 17 - Reason & Revelry
2023.03.21 15:40 ladyofthelathe Actual Farmhouse build: How it started - one year ago; and how it's going - moved in this weekend. Lots more to do, but we're in.
2023.03.21 15:09 redbucket75 Suggestions for an oddities collection that doesn't include dead creatures? The beginnings of a list in body of post!
Weird stuff is awesome, but while I totally enjoy seeing a fetal pig in fluid in someone else's cabinet I don't really want dead creatures myself.
But I would like a reliquary cabinet full of curiosities. What are some things I should be looking out for during my weekly estate sale / yard sale / thrift store adventures?
Here's my lookout list so far:
Unusual books
Intriguing glass (I collect uranium glass separately, but have a Boyd uranium glass clown that will be included)
kaleidoscopes
Fossils (technically not a dead creatures)
Unusual mineral specimens
Antique medical items
Weird original art - paintings, sculptures, etc.
and that's all I got. If you have something appropriate in your collection or other ideas, I'll much appreciate the suggestions!
submitted by redbucket75 to oddities [link] [comments]
But I would like a reliquary cabinet full of curiosities. What are some things I should be looking out for during my weekly estate sale / yard sale / thrift store adventures?
Here's my lookout list so far:
Unusual books
Intriguing glass (I collect uranium glass separately, but have a Boyd uranium glass clown that will be included)
kaleidoscopes
Fossils (technically not a dead creatures)
Unusual mineral specimens
Antique medical items
Weird original art - paintings, sculptures, etc.
and that's all I got. If you have something appropriate in your collection or other ideas, I'll much appreciate the suggestions!
2023.03.21 15:00 0strich_Master The Phoenix Rises (11/?)
FIRST PREV NEXT
Winola Naval Yard, Earth β. Local Date: July 21st, 2136
Alex Baker
Surrounded by men and material, I took in the view of what had been cordially referred to as “The Fuzzball.”
Having been disabled by a particularly lucky Pistol battery, the sleek, edgeless craft had been towed by means of a jery-rigged shuttle down to the confines of Earth - and into the prying hands of a litany of scientific, military, and intelligence agencies.
Despite the best efforts of two dimensions, though, the craft had yielded very little in the way of hard data; weight and measurement had been taken, of course, as well as anything inside the ship that hadn’t been bolted down.
This, of course, also included the corpse that was found on board, from which a considerable amount of information had been accrued.
While preventing the dissection of the corpse - identified through various means as a Venlil named “Takri” - the autopsy and subsequent scans had revealed a great deal of that species’ biology. While shorter than an average human, their muscle mass was considerably denser, implying that they originated from a high-gravity world. Side-facing eyes and large, flat teeth suggested that they were obligate herbivores; the food stores on board corroborated this theory, as they were completely made of plant matter.
While their biology would certainly prove helpful, especially in the fields of first aid and other medical care, it did not contribute to uncovering the secrets of their technology.
Which led me to ask a question that had been answered a dozen times previously to the man standing next to me.
“Any new developments, Mr. Miller?”
The director of the IAS shot me a look that somehow managed to convey more exhaustion than it had only minutes before.
“Nothing from our assignments, Alex. But I did hear that we found their water tank!” He managed to give a coy smile, in spite of his growing fatigue.
“Nothing from our assignments,” in this case, wasn’t a very large surprise. While the entire purpose of the Institute for Anomalous Studies was, in fact, to study anomalies, the team the agency had assembled was still struggling to make heads or tails of what has been surmised to be the Federation’s FTL propulsion.
“I’m still baffled by how they could’ve found an alternative method,” I admitted. “How could they have found something different? To my knowledge, there’s nothing else besides a Warp Drive that has been proven as practical.”
“This is an entirely different civilization, you know - one that we’ve had precious little time to study. Maybe they went down an entirely different field of study. It would explain why we’re having so much trouble,” the Director tried to reassure me. “Well, that and we’ve only had access to the ship for two days.”
“You have to admit that it is concerning, though,” I started back up. “You saw the combat footage yourself. The ship that escaped - there was no identifiable warp bubble. Surely that poses some sort of risk, right?”
I felt that my concern was well-justified. If we were going into this war unable to detect the movements of our enemy, it would prove to be a large - possibly fatal - detriment.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t a hazard, Alex,” came the response from Director Miller. “The lack of a bubble can mean so many different things. Heck, it could even imply…” His face suddenly went pale.
“What could it imply?”
He cut me off before I could get another word in. “I need to have a word with the drive team. Why don’t you check on the other groups in the meantime?” He quickly scurried off, leaving me confused as to what could’ve worked him up so quickly.
Deciding to take on his advice, though, I started making rounds on the other research groups present. Groups that included a mix of Alpha and Beta personnel - a move that I had helped to push for as Military Liason.
Starting at the front and moving towards the back, I met with the researchers dissecting the sole weapon system on the ship.
“Any new developments, gentlemen?”
“No, sir,” came a quick response from a man in Beta American fatigues. “All we have left to do now is repeat previous tests for authenticity; these guns are weaker than their UN counterparts.”
That much hadn’t been a question. The USS Constitution, being a corvette not designed to take high-yield hits, combined with the admittedly inferior local materials, had still taken several direct hits from the Federation flotilla before its hull was breached. There were some figures in the Brass who had been concerned with the threat that weapon scalability posed, but their fears were offset by the information that a hypothetical upsized version of these “Plasma cannons” would still be underpowered when compared to UN weapons of similar make and model.
Giving the officer a brief nod, I continued on towards an open hatch on the other face of the ship. Where pilots once would’ve presumably entered for missions, a large, tangled mess of wires now flowed through, connected to whatever equipment had been found within the ship itself. The garbled mass of black, red, and blue all fed into a hastily-procured console, currently being manned by an Electronics Warfare team on loan from the LREF. Getting closer, I was briefly startled as a cheer rang out from the station.
“...got in! Finally!” I caught the tail-end of a jubilant proclamation as I finally reached the team.
“What did you find?” I asked, the team’s infectious enthusiasm worming its way into my voice.
“See for yourself, sir! It’s a star chart! A star chart of every Federation system!” This claim, half-shouted to me, was enough prompting to cause almost every intelligence officer within earshot to immediately make a beeline to the console.
Sneaking a glance at the console’s holo-screen, I was expecting to see a completely unknown system, out of the knowledge of UN databases. Yet, looking at the three-dimensional display in front of me, I was bugged by the familiarity of what I saw.
“Can you superimpose a map of our own on there? I’m getting the feeling that some of the systems on here may be ours.”
“Ours, sir? How could that be possible?” The soldier manning the console looked confused, but duly pulled up a UN star chart. Mere seconds of manipulating the display later, my suspicions were confirmed. In front of a small crowd of officers and researchers, the UN and Federation star charts were proven to be a near-perfect match, only off on account of a millennia’s worth of drift. Hitched gasps and grumbles could be heard from the entire group.
“A third of those systems are in UN space,” a voice piped up.
“Wait, there’s more.” The LREF soldier quickly shushed the crowd. “The translation software just kicked in; we’ve got system names now, too.”
The eyes of myself and everyone else immediately scoured the display once more.
Let’s see… Nishtal? Aafa? And that one looks like-
“Soldier, get a focus on the system labeled ‘Venlil Prime.’ Keep Sol in the frame, as well.” The cogs in my brain were turning rapidly now, as I asked for the display.
I managed to hear a very hushed “I have a name, you know” as he swiftly executed my request.
“Hey, I recognize that system!” An intelligence officer made his voice known. “That’s Tempest Resolve!”
I took a brief moment to compose myself. “How did they evolve on a planet like that?” I said to nobody in particular.
While an important extrasolar mining world, Tempest Resolve hosted its entire 200 million-person population in vast space stations; the surface itself had only been visited by humans a handful of times. While violent weather owing to its tidally-locked nature was one factor, the main limiter was the simple fact that the planet had a gravitational pull twice as strong as Earth’s; with the UN’s stringent colonization policies, human habitation on the surface under those conditions had been long-forbidden.
Suffice it to say, the entire crowd was about as stumped as I was.
“How did the fucking Sheep achieve flight on a 2-G world, let alone get to space?” One Beta officer uttered in disbelief.
“Maybe that’s not their homeworld?” A researcher tentatively offered.
“Oh, can it, woman! Who the heck uses ‘Prime’ for a colony?”
As the assortment of personnel either ran off to make hurried reports or devolved into bickering, I walked off in a slight stupor. Thankfully, the last spot to hit was the drive team itself - manned by my colleagues in the IAS.
Coming into sight of the aft section of the craft, there was a litany of scientists hooking up devices of unknown function to the rear of the craft. In the distance, I could already see Director Miller gesturing wildly at another person in front of him. Continuing to approach, I heard the throes of a heated argument.
“It has to be wormholes, Mark! There’s no other feasible way!” Miller gesticulated.
“The translator software is calling this thing a subspace drive, sir. I believe that we’re looking at an entirely new method of travel.”
I gave a pointed cough, and the two broke off their debate to look at me.
“Ah, Alex. Welcome back,” said Miller, slightly harried. “What news did you get from the other stations?”
“Nothing new from the weapons section, but navigation managed to get a full star chart of the Federation.”
“Oh?” Miller’s brow raised with interest. “Tell me more.”
“There seems to be a large amount of overlap between Federation territories in this reality and UN territory in our reality, Director. For instance, the Venlil homeworld has been confirmed to be our own Tempest Resolve.”
“Tempest Resolve?” Miller parroted. “I’ll have to ask Slanek how he managed to walk upright with that amount of gravity.”
“Slanek, sir?” I gave a raised eyebrow.
“The Venlil we captured. Did I not tell you his name?”
“No, sir, you did not,” I said flatly.
“My apologies, then,” Miller said earnestly. “Still, that is definitely a question that I am going to have the interrogation officers put on the roster.”
“I was actually meaning you ask you about that, Mr. Miller.” I started my own line of questioning. “Why did we have to put him on our side of the portal? It seems inefficient to have to go all the way back for any in-person appointments.”
Miller pursed his lips. “You really don’t see the problem with keeping him here? In this facility?”
“I can’t say that I do, sir.”
“Alex, keeping him here would represent a palpable threat to his life.”
My entire train of thought collapsed, as I looked at the Director with no small amount of confusion. “A direct threat to his life? Sir, this is already one of the most heavily guarded areas on the planet! Even by UN standards, the security is airtight. What threat could there possibly be?”
Miller paused for a moment before answering. “While I have no shortage of respect for our allies here, Alex, you need to remember that it was the Venlil and Federation at large that nearly drove the humanity of this timeline extinct. That’s the first point. The second point is that this timeline hasn’t progressed societally beyond the twentieth century.”
“...So?” I failed to see where Mr. Miller was taking this line of reasoning.
“...Alex.” Miller was starting to look exacerbated. “You want to put an alien POW, one whose ancestors glassed this planet, into a facility guarded by people with a mindset over a millennium behind our own. Do you see the problem, now?”
“...Oh.” The realization hit me like a brick wall. “Oh.”
Living in a society that had long since grown free of the shackles of the past, it had never occurred to me until now that any living person - even in another timeline - would have the temperament or capacity for xenophobia. The United Nations had ensured equal treatment of all persons since its foundation as a world government, and people in modern times simply took it as a given that those standards would be upheld. I internally berated myself for my complacency as Miller continued his tirade.
Miller honed in, now in a hushed tone. “If we dropped Slanek in here, Alex, he would be murdered within a day. There’d be nothing we could do to prevent it.”
Silence reigned over the both of us as I took in this extreme revelation. If I was remembering my history correctly, then Beta’s America would’ve never even gone through the Civil Rights era as we understood it, as the Federation bombings stunted societal development. There may have still been a time of reflection and dialogue about race, gender, and sexual preferences, but given the circumstances, I found that hard to believe. If discussions had happened to dampen the racism, sexism, and homophobia of the past, they would have been rather muted. There was a large chance, then, that the toxic mindset still lingered within a decent chunk of this timeline’s Americans.
They wouldn’t actually do that, would they? They’ve been around us for months, now. Surely they realize that such a mindset is unproductive.
Deciding that I had had enough time to mull the information over, Miller brought me back into the present to move forward with our job. “I think it’s time that I let you in on what you’ve missed over here, so far. What do you say?”
“That would be welcome, sir.”
Moving back towards the drive, the Director re-connected with the colleague with whom he had been speaking before my arrival. “Mark, can you give Alex a run-down on what we were just talking about?”
“Certainly,” the bespeckled researcher replied. “So, I believe you already know that this drive generates no discernable warp bubble, yes?”
“I am aware of that.”
“Of course,” he nodded. “This leads me to believe that this craft uses an entirely different - an entirely novel method of propulsion.”
“And I still can’t believe you think it’s hyperspace travel,” hissed the Director. “You should know better than to pull directly from Science Fiction, Mark. It’s clearly a wormhole generator; there’s no other feasible way!”
“The nomenclature suggests otherwise, Director. Subspace is not a name anyone I know would give to a wormhole generator.”
“You’d turn your back over a millennium of scientific research over a name? We don’t even know if the software translated it right!”
“I helped code the software, you…!”
I allowed myself a small sigh, as the two devolved back into their argument.
Today is gonna be one of those days, isn’t it?
submitted by 0strich_Master to HFY [link] [comments]
Winola Naval Yard, Earth β. Local Date: July 21st, 2136
Alex Baker
Surrounded by men and material, I took in the view of what had been cordially referred to as “The Fuzzball.”
Having been disabled by a particularly lucky Pistol battery, the sleek, edgeless craft had been towed by means of a jery-rigged shuttle down to the confines of Earth - and into the prying hands of a litany of scientific, military, and intelligence agencies.
Despite the best efforts of two dimensions, though, the craft had yielded very little in the way of hard data; weight and measurement had been taken, of course, as well as anything inside the ship that hadn’t been bolted down.
This, of course, also included the corpse that was found on board, from which a considerable amount of information had been accrued.
While preventing the dissection of the corpse - identified through various means as a Venlil named “Takri” - the autopsy and subsequent scans had revealed a great deal of that species’ biology. While shorter than an average human, their muscle mass was considerably denser, implying that they originated from a high-gravity world. Side-facing eyes and large, flat teeth suggested that they were obligate herbivores; the food stores on board corroborated this theory, as they were completely made of plant matter.
While their biology would certainly prove helpful, especially in the fields of first aid and other medical care, it did not contribute to uncovering the secrets of their technology.
Which led me to ask a question that had been answered a dozen times previously to the man standing next to me.
“Any new developments, Mr. Miller?”
The director of the IAS shot me a look that somehow managed to convey more exhaustion than it had only minutes before.
“Nothing from our assignments, Alex. But I did hear that we found their water tank!” He managed to give a coy smile, in spite of his growing fatigue.
“Nothing from our assignments,” in this case, wasn’t a very large surprise. While the entire purpose of the Institute for Anomalous Studies was, in fact, to study anomalies, the team the agency had assembled was still struggling to make heads or tails of what has been surmised to be the Federation’s FTL propulsion.
“I’m still baffled by how they could’ve found an alternative method,” I admitted. “How could they have found something different? To my knowledge, there’s nothing else besides a Warp Drive that has been proven as practical.”
“This is an entirely different civilization, you know - one that we’ve had precious little time to study. Maybe they went down an entirely different field of study. It would explain why we’re having so much trouble,” the Director tried to reassure me. “Well, that and we’ve only had access to the ship for two days.”
“You have to admit that it is concerning, though,” I started back up. “You saw the combat footage yourself. The ship that escaped - there was no identifiable warp bubble. Surely that poses some sort of risk, right?”
I felt that my concern was well-justified. If we were going into this war unable to detect the movements of our enemy, it would prove to be a large - possibly fatal - detriment.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t a hazard, Alex,” came the response from Director Miller. “The lack of a bubble can mean so many different things. Heck, it could even imply…” His face suddenly went pale.
“What could it imply?”
He cut me off before I could get another word in. “I need to have a word with the drive team. Why don’t you check on the other groups in the meantime?” He quickly scurried off, leaving me confused as to what could’ve worked him up so quickly.
Deciding to take on his advice, though, I started making rounds on the other research groups present. Groups that included a mix of Alpha and Beta personnel - a move that I had helped to push for as Military Liason.
Starting at the front and moving towards the back, I met with the researchers dissecting the sole weapon system on the ship.
“Any new developments, gentlemen?”
“No, sir,” came a quick response from a man in Beta American fatigues. “All we have left to do now is repeat previous tests for authenticity; these guns are weaker than their UN counterparts.”
That much hadn’t been a question. The USS Constitution, being a corvette not designed to take high-yield hits, combined with the admittedly inferior local materials, had still taken several direct hits from the Federation flotilla before its hull was breached. There were some figures in the Brass who had been concerned with the threat that weapon scalability posed, but their fears were offset by the information that a hypothetical upsized version of these “Plasma cannons” would still be underpowered when compared to UN weapons of similar make and model.
Giving the officer a brief nod, I continued on towards an open hatch on the other face of the ship. Where pilots once would’ve presumably entered for missions, a large, tangled mess of wires now flowed through, connected to whatever equipment had been found within the ship itself. The garbled mass of black, red, and blue all fed into a hastily-procured console, currently being manned by an Electronics Warfare team on loan from the LREF. Getting closer, I was briefly startled as a cheer rang out from the station.
“...got in! Finally!” I caught the tail-end of a jubilant proclamation as I finally reached the team.
“What did you find?” I asked, the team’s infectious enthusiasm worming its way into my voice.
“See for yourself, sir! It’s a star chart! A star chart of every Federation system!” This claim, half-shouted to me, was enough prompting to cause almost every intelligence officer within earshot to immediately make a beeline to the console.
Sneaking a glance at the console’s holo-screen, I was expecting to see a completely unknown system, out of the knowledge of UN databases. Yet, looking at the three-dimensional display in front of me, I was bugged by the familiarity of what I saw.
“Can you superimpose a map of our own on there? I’m getting the feeling that some of the systems on here may be ours.”
“Ours, sir? How could that be possible?” The soldier manning the console looked confused, but duly pulled up a UN star chart. Mere seconds of manipulating the display later, my suspicions were confirmed. In front of a small crowd of officers and researchers, the UN and Federation star charts were proven to be a near-perfect match, only off on account of a millennia’s worth of drift. Hitched gasps and grumbles could be heard from the entire group.
“A third of those systems are in UN space,” a voice piped up.
“Wait, there’s more.” The LREF soldier quickly shushed the crowd. “The translation software just kicked in; we’ve got system names now, too.”
The eyes of myself and everyone else immediately scoured the display once more.
Let’s see… Nishtal? Aafa? And that one looks like-
“Soldier, get a focus on the system labeled ‘Venlil Prime.’ Keep Sol in the frame, as well.” The cogs in my brain were turning rapidly now, as I asked for the display.
I managed to hear a very hushed “I have a name, you know” as he swiftly executed my request.
“Hey, I recognize that system!” An intelligence officer made his voice known. “That’s Tempest Resolve!”
I took a brief moment to compose myself. “How did they evolve on a planet like that?” I said to nobody in particular.
While an important extrasolar mining world, Tempest Resolve hosted its entire 200 million-person population in vast space stations; the surface itself had only been visited by humans a handful of times. While violent weather owing to its tidally-locked nature was one factor, the main limiter was the simple fact that the planet had a gravitational pull twice as strong as Earth’s; with the UN’s stringent colonization policies, human habitation on the surface under those conditions had been long-forbidden.
Suffice it to say, the entire crowd was about as stumped as I was.
“How did the fucking Sheep achieve flight on a 2-G world, let alone get to space?” One Beta officer uttered in disbelief.
“Maybe that’s not their homeworld?” A researcher tentatively offered.
“Oh, can it, woman! Who the heck uses ‘Prime’ for a colony?”
As the assortment of personnel either ran off to make hurried reports or devolved into bickering, I walked off in a slight stupor. Thankfully, the last spot to hit was the drive team itself - manned by my colleagues in the IAS.
Coming into sight of the aft section of the craft, there was a litany of scientists hooking up devices of unknown function to the rear of the craft. In the distance, I could already see Director Miller gesturing wildly at another person in front of him. Continuing to approach, I heard the throes of a heated argument.
“It has to be wormholes, Mark! There’s no other feasible way!” Miller gesticulated.
“The translator software is calling this thing a subspace drive, sir. I believe that we’re looking at an entirely new method of travel.”
I gave a pointed cough, and the two broke off their debate to look at me.
“Ah, Alex. Welcome back,” said Miller, slightly harried. “What news did you get from the other stations?”
“Nothing new from the weapons section, but navigation managed to get a full star chart of the Federation.”
“Oh?” Miller’s brow raised with interest. “Tell me more.”
“There seems to be a large amount of overlap between Federation territories in this reality and UN territory in our reality, Director. For instance, the Venlil homeworld has been confirmed to be our own Tempest Resolve.”
“Tempest Resolve?” Miller parroted. “I’ll have to ask Slanek how he managed to walk upright with that amount of gravity.”
“Slanek, sir?” I gave a raised eyebrow.
“The Venlil we captured. Did I not tell you his name?”
“No, sir, you did not,” I said flatly.
“My apologies, then,” Miller said earnestly. “Still, that is definitely a question that I am going to have the interrogation officers put on the roster.”
“I was actually meaning you ask you about that, Mr. Miller.” I started my own line of questioning. “Why did we have to put him on our side of the portal? It seems inefficient to have to go all the way back for any in-person appointments.”
Miller pursed his lips. “You really don’t see the problem with keeping him here? In this facility?”
“I can’t say that I do, sir.”
“Alex, keeping him here would represent a palpable threat to his life.”
My entire train of thought collapsed, as I looked at the Director with no small amount of confusion. “A direct threat to his life? Sir, this is already one of the most heavily guarded areas on the planet! Even by UN standards, the security is airtight. What threat could there possibly be?”
Miller paused for a moment before answering. “While I have no shortage of respect for our allies here, Alex, you need to remember that it was the Venlil and Federation at large that nearly drove the humanity of this timeline extinct. That’s the first point. The second point is that this timeline hasn’t progressed societally beyond the twentieth century.”
“...So?” I failed to see where Mr. Miller was taking this line of reasoning.
“...Alex.” Miller was starting to look exacerbated. “You want to put an alien POW, one whose ancestors glassed this planet, into a facility guarded by people with a mindset over a millennium behind our own. Do you see the problem, now?”
“...Oh.” The realization hit me like a brick wall. “Oh.”
Living in a society that had long since grown free of the shackles of the past, it had never occurred to me until now that any living person - even in another timeline - would have the temperament or capacity for xenophobia. The United Nations had ensured equal treatment of all persons since its foundation as a world government, and people in modern times simply took it as a given that those standards would be upheld. I internally berated myself for my complacency as Miller continued his tirade.
Miller honed in, now in a hushed tone. “If we dropped Slanek in here, Alex, he would be murdered within a day. There’d be nothing we could do to prevent it.”
Silence reigned over the both of us as I took in this extreme revelation. If I was remembering my history correctly, then Beta’s America would’ve never even gone through the Civil Rights era as we understood it, as the Federation bombings stunted societal development. There may have still been a time of reflection and dialogue about race, gender, and sexual preferences, but given the circumstances, I found that hard to believe. If discussions had happened to dampen the racism, sexism, and homophobia of the past, they would have been rather muted. There was a large chance, then, that the toxic mindset still lingered within a decent chunk of this timeline’s Americans.
They wouldn’t actually do that, would they? They’ve been around us for months, now. Surely they realize that such a mindset is unproductive.
Deciding that I had had enough time to mull the information over, Miller brought me back into the present to move forward with our job. “I think it’s time that I let you in on what you’ve missed over here, so far. What do you say?”
“That would be welcome, sir.”
Moving back towards the drive, the Director re-connected with the colleague with whom he had been speaking before my arrival. “Mark, can you give Alex a run-down on what we were just talking about?”
“Certainly,” the bespeckled researcher replied. “So, I believe you already know that this drive generates no discernable warp bubble, yes?”
“I am aware of that.”
“Of course,” he nodded. “This leads me to believe that this craft uses an entirely different - an entirely novel method of propulsion.”
“And I still can’t believe you think it’s hyperspace travel,” hissed the Director. “You should know better than to pull directly from Science Fiction, Mark. It’s clearly a wormhole generator; there’s no other feasible way!”
“The nomenclature suggests otherwise, Director. Subspace is not a name anyone I know would give to a wormhole generator.”
“You’d turn your back over a millennium of scientific research over a name? We don’t even know if the software translated it right!”
“I helped code the software, you…!”
I allowed myself a small sigh, as the two devolved back into their argument.
Today is gonna be one of those days, isn’t it?
2023.03.21 14:38 GardenGrammie45 UPDATE to HarvestRight Going Wrong
Read all of the comments from you wonderful folks, and I thank you for taking the time to post suggestions. They were both excellent and helpful! HR has sent us two software updates since my original post. After the second update, I was also scheduled and prepared to do a spray test with the HR troubleshooter guy on the phone. However, once my hubby removed the back off the FD, I pulled out the silicone and sealed it around the brass connector thingy that goes into the chamber. That was part 1.
Someone had mentioned humidity has being a cause for frost around the gasket/rim area. So, I had pulled a dehumidifier out from my shop, and put it in the room where the FD is. Filled up with water overnight. I had no idea that room was so humid! This led me down another path in thinking that perhaps water vapor had made its way into the oil pump, which might be cause for the stinky, cloudy oil. I filtered and froze the oil, only to discover little balls of ice in the oil - which means- yes there was water in the oil. So I ran the pump a few times, drained the oil, repeat..and then it finally started coming out clean. But, I made another discovery during all of this.... When the chamber was defrosting, and I'd let it sit after the defrost cycle (HR told me to do this), water was still inside the chamber. I pulled the shelves out and found a lengthy puddle from front to back of the chamber that had not drained. I grabbed a piece of 1/2 thick wood, and placed it under the front end of the FD, so any remaining water would be inclined towards the drain.
I still had a few puddles on the top of the shelf and in the bottom of the chamber- but no where near what there was. So, I just dry it out before running batches now. The software update was 5.4.24. which alters (slightly) the freeze temp and the vacuum. But, I gotta say....it all works perfectly now. Employing everything I've learned here and just from doodling around with it... we have success. So, thank you very muchly for your kind help and expertise!
submitted by GardenGrammie45 to HarvestRight [link] [comments]
Someone had mentioned humidity has being a cause for frost around the gasket/rim area. So, I had pulled a dehumidifier out from my shop, and put it in the room where the FD is. Filled up with water overnight. I had no idea that room was so humid! This led me down another path in thinking that perhaps water vapor had made its way into the oil pump, which might be cause for the stinky, cloudy oil. I filtered and froze the oil, only to discover little balls of ice in the oil - which means- yes there was water in the oil. So I ran the pump a few times, drained the oil, repeat..and then it finally started coming out clean. But, I made another discovery during all of this.... When the chamber was defrosting, and I'd let it sit after the defrost cycle (HR told me to do this), water was still inside the chamber. I pulled the shelves out and found a lengthy puddle from front to back of the chamber that had not drained. I grabbed a piece of 1/2 thick wood, and placed it under the front end of the FD, so any remaining water would be inclined towards the drain.
I still had a few puddles on the top of the shelf and in the bottom of the chamber- but no where near what there was. So, I just dry it out before running batches now. The software update was 5.4.24. which alters (slightly) the freeze temp and the vacuum. But, I gotta say....it all works perfectly now. Employing everything I've learned here and just from doodling around with it... we have success. So, thank you very muchly for your kind help and expertise!
2023.03.21 13:38 Ayedee1007 Replacing this cabinet in my entryway and want to put two framed photos above it in brass frames. What size frames should I get and should they be hung vertically or horizontally? The dimensions for the new cabinet are 32”H x 40”W x 15”D. TIA!!!
submitted by Ayedee1007 to DesignMyRoom [link] [comments]
2023.03.21 13:36 creepymartha A 1940's Radio Says My Wife will Kill Me
My life had always been rather unremarkable. I had a loving wife, a decent job, and a cozy home. It was, by all accounts, a normal existence. That is, until I stumbled upon the radio.
I had been wandering through a local antique store when the worn, rusted hulk of a radio caught my eye. It was a large, dusty thing from the 1940s, with a weathered wooden frame and a dial that seemed frozen in time. Despite its rough appearance, I felt an inexplicable pull towards it. I purchased the radio on a whim, thinking it would make a nice conversation piece for our living room.
When I brought the radio home, my wife, Emma, was initially unimpressed. She didn't share my enthusiasm for old relics and was worried about the space it would take up. I assured her it was just a harmless decoration and, begrudgingly, she agreed to let it stay.
That night, after Emma had gone to bed, I found myself drawn to the radio once more. I fiddled with the rusted knobs, not expecting any sound to emerge from the ancient device. To my surprise, the radio crackled to life, and a low, eerie static filled the room.
As I continued to twist the dial, the static began to give way to a voice. It was a man's voice – deep, slow, and unnervingly calm. The voice seemed to be reading from a script, like a radio drama from a bygone era. But the words it spoke chilled me to the bone.
"Your wife, Emma, plans to kill you. She has been plotting for months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. You must act before she does – end her life, or she will end yours."
My blood ran cold. The idea of Emma wanting to kill me was preposterous. We had our disagreements, sure, but we loved each other. I tried to dismiss the voice as a cruel prank or a bizarre coincidence, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was something more.
Over the next few days, I began to notice subtle changes in Emma's behavior. She seemed distant, her smiles strained, her eyes cold and calculating. Each time I caught her staring at me, I couldn't help but wonder if the radio's sinister message was true.
My paranoia grew, and I found myself returning to the radio each night, listening to the same chilling warning. The voice was relentless, insisting that I had to act if I wanted to survive. It whispered dark suggestions into my ear, urging me to kill Emma before she could make her move.
I wrestled with the idea, my mind torn between my love for my wife and the terror instilled by the radio's prophecy. The thought of taking Emma's life was monstrous, but the fear that she might take mine first was overpowering.
As the days turned into weeks, I found myself succumbing to the radio's influence. I began to plan, to consider the most efficient and discreet way to carry out the unthinkable act. Each time I looked at Emma, I no longer saw the woman I loved – I saw the threat she had become.
My life had become a living nightmare, haunted by the constant hum of the radio and the ever-present fear of my own impending death. And as the fateful night approached, when I would finally decide whether to heed the radio's warning, I couldn't help but wonder – was I about to become a murderer, or was I merely a pawn in some twisted game?
The dark place is crawling in my brain.
submitted by creepymartha to nosleep [link] [comments]
I had been wandering through a local antique store when the worn, rusted hulk of a radio caught my eye. It was a large, dusty thing from the 1940s, with a weathered wooden frame and a dial that seemed frozen in time. Despite its rough appearance, I felt an inexplicable pull towards it. I purchased the radio on a whim, thinking it would make a nice conversation piece for our living room.
When I brought the radio home, my wife, Emma, was initially unimpressed. She didn't share my enthusiasm for old relics and was worried about the space it would take up. I assured her it was just a harmless decoration and, begrudgingly, she agreed to let it stay.
That night, after Emma had gone to bed, I found myself drawn to the radio once more. I fiddled with the rusted knobs, not expecting any sound to emerge from the ancient device. To my surprise, the radio crackled to life, and a low, eerie static filled the room.
As I continued to twist the dial, the static began to give way to a voice. It was a man's voice – deep, slow, and unnervingly calm. The voice seemed to be reading from a script, like a radio drama from a bygone era. But the words it spoke chilled me to the bone.
"Your wife, Emma, plans to kill you. She has been plotting for months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. You must act before she does – end her life, or she will end yours."
My blood ran cold. The idea of Emma wanting to kill me was preposterous. We had our disagreements, sure, but we loved each other. I tried to dismiss the voice as a cruel prank or a bizarre coincidence, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was something more.
Over the next few days, I began to notice subtle changes in Emma's behavior. She seemed distant, her smiles strained, her eyes cold and calculating. Each time I caught her staring at me, I couldn't help but wonder if the radio's sinister message was true.
My paranoia grew, and I found myself returning to the radio each night, listening to the same chilling warning. The voice was relentless, insisting that I had to act if I wanted to survive. It whispered dark suggestions into my ear, urging me to kill Emma before she could make her move.
I wrestled with the idea, my mind torn between my love for my wife and the terror instilled by the radio's prophecy. The thought of taking Emma's life was monstrous, but the fear that she might take mine first was overpowering.
As the days turned into weeks, I found myself succumbing to the radio's influence. I began to plan, to consider the most efficient and discreet way to carry out the unthinkable act. Each time I looked at Emma, I no longer saw the woman I loved – I saw the threat she had become.
My life had become a living nightmare, haunted by the constant hum of the radio and the ever-present fear of my own impending death. And as the fateful night approached, when I would finally decide whether to heed the radio's warning, I couldn't help but wonder – was I about to become a murderer, or was I merely a pawn in some twisted game?
The dark place is crawling in my brain.
2023.03.21 12:16 EstablishmentOver635 Luxury modular kitchen Regalokitchens
 | submitted by EstablishmentOver635 to u/EstablishmentOver635 [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/sxsqm906t2pa1.png?width=6912&format=png&auto=webp&s=e88c81baac06f110229c355aa6982e98810399c6 Luxury modular kitchen is a high-end, custom kitchen that is created to provide the ideal balance of convenience, aesthetic appeal, and functionality. In order to produce a smooth and well-coordinated kitchen design, it is typically made by mixing different modular elements, such as cabinets, countertops, appliances, and accessories. A luxury modular kitchen may have high-end appliances like a built-in refrigerator, two ovens, or a wine cooler as some of its common features. The cabinets may have features like soft-close drawers, pull-out shelves, and built-in lighting, and are often made of high-quality materials like solid wood. |
2023.03.21 12:10 Monstertim1 The kraken has a song to sing, and the first verse is the sound of you drowning.
I always loved to swim in the ocean.
For some reason, I could hold my breath for long periods of time, which let me stay under the surface for an ungodly amount of time. I also had good arm and leg strength, which is how I can swim around quickly. My parents knew this ability, and they often took me to the beach for me to enjoy swimming around for hours, swimming around like my life depended on it.
The sea was a big part of my life, and it was like family to me, I loved it, and I never wanted it to go.
When I turned just about 23, I got a job as a diver. My task was to explore the seafloor, as only 5 percent of the sea was discovered, but due to my unique lungs, not something that my doctor can even explain, I can last just about half an hour underwater without air. Some have joked that I am just a waterproof robot, but it's hard to explain to people who don't listen.
“Are you ready for your next mission?”
Those were the words of my boss informing me of my task. I needed to explore the area around an area called the “Challenger Deep,” which is located at the southern end of the Mariana Trench. It's pretty deep, and water pressure can be difficult to deal with, but despite my boss insisting that I get a submarine to help with my safety, I promised him that I’d come back in one piece, and even if I die, my research could help a new generation of sea exploration, which he finally agreed and let me go. I was sitting on the boat taking me there, and I was slowly approaching the destination. The boat driver slowed down the boat as we were directly above the Challenger Deep. “Just note, I was ordered that once you leave the boat, you aren’t allowed back on until at least an hour. No turning back, are you sure you’re ready?”
I nodded my head. And after putting on my diver gear so I can see, and attaching a camera (which was waterproof, which should be obvious) to me so I can record my findings, I plunged into the water, and started swimming down.
The sea was slowly getting darker and darker. I haven’t seen any sea animals around yet, which was a little concerning, but I couldn’t go back, so I pushed forward and continued to swim down.
I turned on my flashlight once it got too dark where I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t see any organisms this deep. Normally, this would be the part of the sea where you find animals like sharks or special fish, but nothing. Did I come at the wrong time, or am I this stupid as a human male to notice anything? Whatever it is, it truly beats me.
Once I swam deep enough, I saw something, a shipwreck. It was worn, and torn to bits. It's like a kraken assaulted it and dragged it to the sea, to a place no one (except me and maybe the chance of a fish or something to see) to ever find it.
“Of course, that can’t be the case. Krakens don’t exist, right?” My thoughts pondered, as I swam even closer to the ship.
I swam inside the boat through a hole that was on the outside. It looked like a place where people would live. There were cabinets, dining items, and I even found a chest, filled with nothing.
I truly thought something was here, which is why I am down here. My camera was recording all of this, which was a good idea, since I probably couldn’t prove this all on my own. But after a few minutes of looking around, I just realized it's been 25 minutes. I needed air. If I could swim back up quickly, I could get some oxygen and swim back down. So after I said my goodbyes to the ship, I swam out of the ship and started my swim to the surface.
But the sea had other plans.
There was a rush of water, and I was almost blown off course. I saw a bunch of slimy tentacle-like tendrils, as it was followed up by a metallic screech. And then I saw its horrifying face. The face of a massive squid, or in other words, a kraken.
I spent no time trying to swim away, but it swung its tentacle at me, barely missing me. I panicked so badly that I dropped my flashlight. I couldn’t swim back down to get it. Even if I managed to evade the kraken, going to grab the light would waste time for me to reach the surface, which could lead to drowning.
I was distracted, and it grabbed me, its slimy tentacle wrapping around me tightly. I felt a massive rush of air leave my lungs. It felt as if my rib cage was being damaged, and I would be squeezed to death. It held me in front of it, and it squeezed me even harder. Normally, if I was on the surface, I’d scream in pain, but I’m under water, I can’t do that. No one can hear me.
No one can see me.
It wasn’t doing anything, it was just tightening its grip as it gawked at me. And then, still holding me, showed its spiny teeth, and was pulling me closer and closer. I tried to squirm free, but its grip was too tight, I couldn’t break free.
I had a small pocket knife for emergency purposes, and it happened to be right where my camera was, on a rope-like necklace. I tore it off, and I proceeded to stab it deep into the kraken. It screeched in pain, as it lost grip of me because it was too focused on the wound. I took the knife out of it so it could bleed out, although from its massive size, it can’t die from blood loss from a wound so minor for its size.
I managed to escape the sights of the kraken. But I ran out of air, and after trying to push through, it wasn’t enough, and I drowned.
But I was revived later via CPR. The boat driver saw my body, and broke his orders to get my limp body to the boat where he soon drove me to shore. I was sent to the hospital, and a X-Ray scan showed that, except my skull, my entire body, especially my rib area, received significant damage, and while it wasn’t lethal and I could still live, I would need intensive recovery, and too much movement could slow down the process.
I was driven back to my job. They decided that due to the injury, I should take my stuff home as I was going to take a break from working, so I was forcibly suspended, or whatever the word is. When we arrived, I immediately went to the bathroom and took off my shirt. There was a massive black bruise on my stomach, it looked like a line with circles. Touching it hurt badly, obviously, but this was a new type of pain. It felt as if I was being hit with burning rocks in the bruised area each time I touched it. I put my shirt back on, grabbed my stuff and left the workplace, driving home.
We didn’t tell the doctors and nurses about the footage or my adventure down into the Challenger Deep. They didn’t think they would take us seriously. We decided not to publicly upload the footage to prevent anything rash happening.
But, the past is the past. There is nothing I can do.
I still love the ocean, though.
submitted by Monstertim1 to nosleep [link] [comments]
For some reason, I could hold my breath for long periods of time, which let me stay under the surface for an ungodly amount of time. I also had good arm and leg strength, which is how I can swim around quickly. My parents knew this ability, and they often took me to the beach for me to enjoy swimming around for hours, swimming around like my life depended on it.
The sea was a big part of my life, and it was like family to me, I loved it, and I never wanted it to go.
When I turned just about 23, I got a job as a diver. My task was to explore the seafloor, as only 5 percent of the sea was discovered, but due to my unique lungs, not something that my doctor can even explain, I can last just about half an hour underwater without air. Some have joked that I am just a waterproof robot, but it's hard to explain to people who don't listen.
“Are you ready for your next mission?”
Those were the words of my boss informing me of my task. I needed to explore the area around an area called the “Challenger Deep,” which is located at the southern end of the Mariana Trench. It's pretty deep, and water pressure can be difficult to deal with, but despite my boss insisting that I get a submarine to help with my safety, I promised him that I’d come back in one piece, and even if I die, my research could help a new generation of sea exploration, which he finally agreed and let me go. I was sitting on the boat taking me there, and I was slowly approaching the destination. The boat driver slowed down the boat as we were directly above the Challenger Deep. “Just note, I was ordered that once you leave the boat, you aren’t allowed back on until at least an hour. No turning back, are you sure you’re ready?”
I nodded my head. And after putting on my diver gear so I can see, and attaching a camera (which was waterproof, which should be obvious) to me so I can record my findings, I plunged into the water, and started swimming down.
The sea was slowly getting darker and darker. I haven’t seen any sea animals around yet, which was a little concerning, but I couldn’t go back, so I pushed forward and continued to swim down.
I turned on my flashlight once it got too dark where I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t see any organisms this deep. Normally, this would be the part of the sea where you find animals like sharks or special fish, but nothing. Did I come at the wrong time, or am I this stupid as a human male to notice anything? Whatever it is, it truly beats me.
Once I swam deep enough, I saw something, a shipwreck. It was worn, and torn to bits. It's like a kraken assaulted it and dragged it to the sea, to a place no one (except me and maybe the chance of a fish or something to see) to ever find it.
“Of course, that can’t be the case. Krakens don’t exist, right?” My thoughts pondered, as I swam even closer to the ship.
I swam inside the boat through a hole that was on the outside. It looked like a place where people would live. There were cabinets, dining items, and I even found a chest, filled with nothing.
I truly thought something was here, which is why I am down here. My camera was recording all of this, which was a good idea, since I probably couldn’t prove this all on my own. But after a few minutes of looking around, I just realized it's been 25 minutes. I needed air. If I could swim back up quickly, I could get some oxygen and swim back down. So after I said my goodbyes to the ship, I swam out of the ship and started my swim to the surface.
But the sea had other plans.
There was a rush of water, and I was almost blown off course. I saw a bunch of slimy tentacle-like tendrils, as it was followed up by a metallic screech. And then I saw its horrifying face. The face of a massive squid, or in other words, a kraken.
I spent no time trying to swim away, but it swung its tentacle at me, barely missing me. I panicked so badly that I dropped my flashlight. I couldn’t swim back down to get it. Even if I managed to evade the kraken, going to grab the light would waste time for me to reach the surface, which could lead to drowning.
I was distracted, and it grabbed me, its slimy tentacle wrapping around me tightly. I felt a massive rush of air leave my lungs. It felt as if my rib cage was being damaged, and I would be squeezed to death. It held me in front of it, and it squeezed me even harder. Normally, if I was on the surface, I’d scream in pain, but I’m under water, I can’t do that. No one can hear me.
No one can see me.
It wasn’t doing anything, it was just tightening its grip as it gawked at me. And then, still holding me, showed its spiny teeth, and was pulling me closer and closer. I tried to squirm free, but its grip was too tight, I couldn’t break free.
I had a small pocket knife for emergency purposes, and it happened to be right where my camera was, on a rope-like necklace. I tore it off, and I proceeded to stab it deep into the kraken. It screeched in pain, as it lost grip of me because it was too focused on the wound. I took the knife out of it so it could bleed out, although from its massive size, it can’t die from blood loss from a wound so minor for its size.
I managed to escape the sights of the kraken. But I ran out of air, and after trying to push through, it wasn’t enough, and I drowned.
But I was revived later via CPR. The boat driver saw my body, and broke his orders to get my limp body to the boat where he soon drove me to shore. I was sent to the hospital, and a X-Ray scan showed that, except my skull, my entire body, especially my rib area, received significant damage, and while it wasn’t lethal and I could still live, I would need intensive recovery, and too much movement could slow down the process.
I was driven back to my job. They decided that due to the injury, I should take my stuff home as I was going to take a break from working, so I was forcibly suspended, or whatever the word is. When we arrived, I immediately went to the bathroom and took off my shirt. There was a massive black bruise on my stomach, it looked like a line with circles. Touching it hurt badly, obviously, but this was a new type of pain. It felt as if I was being hit with burning rocks in the bruised area each time I touched it. I put my shirt back on, grabbed my stuff and left the workplace, driving home.
We didn’t tell the doctors and nurses about the footage or my adventure down into the Challenger Deep. They didn’t think they would take us seriously. We decided not to publicly upload the footage to prevent anything rash happening.
But, the past is the past. There is nothing I can do.
I still love the ocean, though.