Browning 1911 black label 380 holster
Monroe County John & Jane Doe (1975)
2023.06.10 18:20 Big_idea_005 Monroe County John & Jane Doe (1975)
This is a case I'd come across on NamUs a while back before it was added to Doe Network in April last year and it hasn't gotten a lot of attention.
On March 15, 1975, the badly beaten and dismembered bodies of a man and a woman were found in the bushes 400 feet from Loop Road, officially County Road 94, 5 miles south of the Tamiami Trail in the Big Cypress Swamp of Monroe County, Florida. Both had been fatally beaten with a blunt object, cut in half, placed into 4 green garbage bags, and then the garbage bags were put into 4 unmarked canvas duffel bags. Their hands were missing, likely to prevent fingerprinting. The man was bound with a cord, and the woman was handcuffed (they were cheap Japanese-made handcuffs), both then being murdered "execution style". Both had been dead for 4 weeks by the time of discovery.
The man was white, 40-50 years old, 5'10" (estimated), 145-150 lbs. (145 lbs. estimated per NamUs), with reddish brown hair and possibly a beard. His eye color could not be determined. The woman was also white, 30-40 years old, 5'4" (estimated), 120-130 lbs. (125 lbs. estimated per NamUs), with light brown or blond hair. Her eye color was also undetermined. Neither had any distinguishing marks or features; the man was edentulous with healed-over gums, and the woman's teeth showed a lack of care in later years although she had extensive dental work done prior.
The man was wearing a white "Catalina" size M knit shirt and size 32 khaki or green L.L. Bean shorts with another label (store label per Doe Network) "Yodel Britches". The woman was wearing a white "Dunofold, Inc." v-neck athletic shirt with a red, white, and blue ribbed collar, a small black and gold eagle embossed on the left front, and a store label for Stan Smith in Mohawk, NY, size medium baggy white muslin calf-length pants, and red knee-high socks. Neither had any underwear or shoes.
The status of their DNA is unknown, and their fingerprints are not available due to their hands having been removed.
Investigators believe the couple were originally from the Northeast based on their clothes and possibly hippies due to their lack of underwear. The clothes definitely seem definitely northeastern to me but the lack of underwear alone doesn't point me towards them having been hippies.
As with many cases found in the Everglades and Big Cypress, there's a good chance they were killed in the urban areas along the East Coast (Miami, Fort Lauderdale, etc.) and then driven inland to hide their bodies although the West Coast (Naples, Fort Myers, etc.) shouldn't be ruled out either. (This isn't explicitly stated anywhere I've seen, but based on similar cases this is likely what I think happened.) Loop Road itself goes through the southern end of Big Cypress National Preserve and, to my understanding, doesn't see a lot of traffic apart from park visitors and hikers going to the Florida Trail, the southern end of which is directly on the road. Loop Road is also unpaved and some areas can get difficult to drive through with weather.
There are no exclusions for the man, but 2 for the woman: Pamela Nater (1966) and Brenda Lefler (1974).
Any ideas or theories on who they were, why they were killed, or who could've done it? Leave a comment if so.
Male: Doe Network/NamUs
Female: Doe Network/NamUs
submitted by Big_idea_005 to gratefuldoe [link] [comments]
On March 15, 1975, the badly beaten and dismembered bodies of a man and a woman were found in the bushes 400 feet from Loop Road, officially County Road 94, 5 miles south of the Tamiami Trail in the Big Cypress Swamp of Monroe County, Florida. Both had been fatally beaten with a blunt object, cut in half, placed into 4 green garbage bags, and then the garbage bags were put into 4 unmarked canvas duffel bags. Their hands were missing, likely to prevent fingerprinting. The man was bound with a cord, and the woman was handcuffed (they were cheap Japanese-made handcuffs), both then being murdered "execution style". Both had been dead for 4 weeks by the time of discovery.
The man was white, 40-50 years old, 5'10" (estimated), 145-150 lbs. (145 lbs. estimated per NamUs), with reddish brown hair and possibly a beard. His eye color could not be determined. The woman was also white, 30-40 years old, 5'4" (estimated), 120-130 lbs. (125 lbs. estimated per NamUs), with light brown or blond hair. Her eye color was also undetermined. Neither had any distinguishing marks or features; the man was edentulous with healed-over gums, and the woman's teeth showed a lack of care in later years although she had extensive dental work done prior.
The man was wearing a white "Catalina" size M knit shirt and size 32 khaki or green L.L. Bean shorts with another label (store label per Doe Network) "Yodel Britches". The woman was wearing a white "Dunofold, Inc." v-neck athletic shirt with a red, white, and blue ribbed collar, a small black and gold eagle embossed on the left front, and a store label for Stan Smith in Mohawk, NY, size medium baggy white muslin calf-length pants, and red knee-high socks. Neither had any underwear or shoes.
The status of their DNA is unknown, and their fingerprints are not available due to their hands having been removed.
Investigators believe the couple were originally from the Northeast based on their clothes and possibly hippies due to their lack of underwear. The clothes definitely seem definitely northeastern to me but the lack of underwear alone doesn't point me towards them having been hippies.
As with many cases found in the Everglades and Big Cypress, there's a good chance they were killed in the urban areas along the East Coast (Miami, Fort Lauderdale, etc.) and then driven inland to hide their bodies although the West Coast (Naples, Fort Myers, etc.) shouldn't be ruled out either. (This isn't explicitly stated anywhere I've seen, but based on similar cases this is likely what I think happened.) Loop Road itself goes through the southern end of Big Cypress National Preserve and, to my understanding, doesn't see a lot of traffic apart from park visitors and hikers going to the Florida Trail, the southern end of which is directly on the road. Loop Road is also unpaved and some areas can get difficult to drive through with weather.
There are no exclusions for the man, but 2 for the woman: Pamela Nater (1966) and Brenda Lefler (1974).
Any ideas or theories on who they were, why they were killed, or who could've done it? Leave a comment if so.
Male: Doe Network/NamUs
Female: Doe Network/NamUs
2023.06.10 17:25 Seamoose_Art Wasteland (Fallout x NoP)
Heads up! This story is both unpolished and unfinished, and posted here only for the sake of not letting my work go entirely to waste. If you want to continue the story yourself, feel free to do so.
Credit for The Nature of Predators goes to u/spacepaladin15.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: September, 2136)
At first, we assumed it to be an Arxur weapon, but we had plenty of time to get a more detailed look at the object intersecting our FTL trajectory. A mass of energy, far more than a star could emit, yet giving off no light. Gravitational pull was intense, but completely wrong for a black hole. Maybe the remains of a massive warp core accident? Whatever it was, it was directly in our path.
We had ample time before our collision, and nothing we could do. Our course was set, and escape vessels couldn’t be launched during an FTL jump. All that was left was to wait, and pray for a mercifully quick death that we all knew was unlikely. We built our starships to withstand direct assault from Arxur warships. Our deaths would be both inevitable and slow.
I was away from the refugee’s quarters, on the bridge. I couldn’t bear to watch pups cry in terror, as their parents tried hopelessly to ease their fear. The bridge was only marginally better. Some of the crew were facing their imminent death with stoicism. Many were praying. Many were crying. I don’t remember what I was doing when it hit, but I was probably crying too.
Then… then…
Pain, agonizing and blinding pain. No screaming. No noise at all. Silence, darkness, death.
Movement. But I couldn’t possibly move myself. Was I carried?
My first coherent memories started taking shape next to a fire. I couldn’t see, but the warmth and crackling were unmistakable. I tried to move, only to find myself unmoving. Was I in the wreckage of the ship? I felt no pain. Was I already dead?
“Hey, look who’s finally back in the land of the living. Can you hear me?”
A human. The species that started this whole mess. That attacked our cradle, let the Arxur find an easy target. That taunted us with their “Evacuation” cattle roundups. The disgusting mockery of a voice washed over me, tainting my very soul.
That fire must be to roast my flesh. Does it want my fear, before it kills me? It won’t get a single goddamn word, not so much as a noise.
“You… damn, he must still be out of it. Maybe another stimpak..?”
Cli-hsssss. A stabbing pain in my arm, followed by… relief? My arm twitched slightly, but I couldn’t manage anything more. A rushing sound filled my ears, overpowering the growl on my left until it bore me away to unconsciousness.
—
I woke up on a bed, staring at what must’ve been the ceiling, though all I could see was vague rust-brown shapes in the distance. My body still refused to move. And yet still, somehow, so little pain. Was my nervous system destroyed?
No. Hunger. Brutal, snarling hunger stabbed through my stomach like a dagger. I made a weak noise, remembered where I was, and rapidly forced silence. If it knows I’m awake, it’ll torture me until it lets me die…
“Oh! You— you’re awake again! Can you hear me?”
Don’t make a noise. It might lose interest.
“...No. Dammit. It’s going to starve if it doesn’t fully wake up soon… I can’t afford all these meds for much longer anyway. I’ll just have to… leave this here for it. Maybe it’ll wake again while I’m out.”
And just like that, a rush of movement and it was gone. It worked! I lived… I lived, just so I could starve…
By the graces of the protector. Food. I could smell food, just inches to my right. Can I move to pick it up? Can I move my jaw to eat?
Is it a trap? The human must be trying to fatten me up. Or maybe it didn’t leave at all, and is just waiting in the shadows to see if I take the bait. Or… maybe…
Fuck it. I was already good as dead, I could at least die full. I tried moving my arm, but to no avail. My other arm was no better. Maybe I could move my head?
The world shifted around me, a nauseating whirl of muted colors. But that meant my head could move. I could move… the food was still just barely out of reach. I can almost taste it… it’s so close to my nose…
I let out a weak cry of frustration. I couldn’t help myself. Did the human intend for this torture? The frustration became rage, filling my body like a white-hot star until I—
Trembling, my claw grasped the food. Rage and hunger animated my arm, pushing it forward. Whatever this was, it was soft. It smelled heavenly. I brought it up to my face. My vision was just recovered enough to make out its form; a strayu-like pillow drizzled with a sweet glaze. I tore into it like an animal, barely even tasting. I must not have eaten in days.
Gone in seconds, and the hunger was barely sated. But it was enough energy to force movement with. Slowly, unsteadily, I rose to a sitting position. The world threatened to shift away from under me, but I held, trying to get my bearings.
I’m in… some sort of shack. Bare, rusted sheet metal on the walls; clearly an improvised structure. Other than that oddity, the room was surprisingly normal. No blood dripping from cages, no hunting trophies on the walls. A torn up carpet, a beaten-up table and chair, some cabinets, all illuminated by soft rays of light pouring in from a window over the table. And right next to my little mattress… is that more food? Some sort of orange vegetable. Like the sweet strayu, I ate without even tasting.
Much better. I was still starving, but only metaphorically. I could even move my other arm, though my legs were entirely numb and refused to cooperate no matter how much I pushed them. Could I escape by dragging my body with my arms?
No. I was still too weak. I had to count on the human fattening me up a bit more before I could make a break for it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Just a hair to the right… and… Now. The interloper, a feral dog that had wandered onto the property, dropped without a sound.
I couldn’t afford to attract any attention, so I’d hastily slapped together a silencer for my pipe revolver. An old oil filter, just small enough to not obstruct the scope I’d hastily tied to the top. The gun looked ridiculous, but it got the job done silently. If I attracted any visitors, my alien guest was as good as dead. Nearly a week after finding it, and it still wasn’t waking up consistently.
Now’s not the time for thought. Focus. Now.
The second dog also dropped. The alpha of the pack still hadn’t noticed anything, a miracle. I lined up one last shot… pulled the trigger, and finally let myself breath. That was way too close. Every day without the fence finished was another day of silent stress.
Putting up a fence was easy enough, but putting up a fence QUIETLY was nightmarishly slow work, constantly punctuated by hiding from any would-be visitors. But these dogs had wandered onto the property without even seeing me. Could they smell the alien? I knew Dogmeat could track injuries from a far greater distance…
Fence should've been up yesterday. Back to work.
I’m running out of barbed wire. And screws. And boards. Can I afford another expedition? What if Dogmeat can’t defend him? Not a chance in hell I’m risking any other group learning about this… although Mama Murphy probably knows anyway, doesn’t she. Maybe the Minutemen can—
No. I can’t risk it. I’ll have to improvise. Maybe I can set up a Tesla arc as defense and leave to raid Sunshine Tidings. Rusted metal sheets don’t make for the best walls, but better than nothing.
The sun was still high, so I had some time if I hurried. As I began gathering supplies, a thought crossed my mind. A Tesla arc was better than nothing, and Dogmeat was formidable enough, but… surely if the alien was in serious danger, it could use some self defense. Those spikes weren’t gonna cut it. Maybe that bastard Kellogg’s old .44 would finally get some use?
I grabbed the .44 revolver, a spare arc trap I’d salvaged from Fort Hagan, and some tools. It would have to do. There was already power hooked up to the shack for heating, so wiring the—
The food’s gone.
Dogmeat didn’t eat carrots, so I knew there was only one culprit. The alien must’ve woken up while I was working. It was back asleep now, but at least it got something down. It wouldn’t starve. Thank god.
…right. If it can wake up, this trap is probably more dangerous to it than any invader. I walked back over to the shed, stowed the Tesla arc and tools, and grabbed a handful of vegetables and a water canteen. If it could stomach food, it needed to start putting on weight now to make up for lost time. This would be a start, at least.
I set the food and water on the table (taking care not to break the digital chimera I’d already laid there), and the gun beside the bed. I knew it could reach to there, without a doubt. Maybe toss in a handful more bullets, too; it’s not like I’d ever be able to make myself use the damn thing. I gave one last glance at the alien curled up on a bare mattress before closing the door and setting out.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Help me. Kay-ut. Ki-ra. Protector. Anyone. It’s right there.
When I heard the human coming, I faked sleep hoping it wouldn’t check. As seconds passed, that hope grew thinner and thinner. Clearly, it could see the food was gone. Not that it needed to figure anything out; it could probably see through my deception just looking at me. Ki-yu, trickster; please, let this work. Let me live a moment longer. Noises all around me. Was it laying out torturous weaponry? Was it getting ready to gut me?
Protector. Please. I don’t want to die.
The noise around me stopped. Had the gods heard my prayers? I dared not check; if the human was still there, and I so much as opened an eye, I was dead. But death failed to claim me, and more noises failed to appear, until I finally worked up the courage to take advantage of my blessing and open my eyes.
The human was gone. I was alive. One more look around the room, to make sure it hadn’t—
A gun. A human weapon, close enough to grab. And ammo…
I knew humans were masters at trapping, at deceiving; such was their nature. I stared at the gun, trying to figure out what the trap was.
But I was tired, and hungry, and every sense told me that this wasn’t a trap, but a loaded gun. An answer to my prayers for safety. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I picked it up. It felt solid and weighty in my hands, lending some sense of security to the otherwise hopeless situation. Emboldened, I tried to rise to my feet again.
If I grabbed some of the furniture and stood on my good leg, I could just about stay upright without pain. That would have to do for now. Maybe I could use something in this room as a crutch. A leg of the table might do nicely, if I could—
Food. More food, all over the table. A sprawl of alien vegetables, including that orange one I had earlier. A metal jug, probably filled with water. And… is that a translator?
Curiosity overpowered both my hunger and my fear. On closer inspection, it was indeed a translator, one of the older dedicated units. Wired into… some sort of metal armband with a green flickering screen. The craftsmanship was shoddy; some parts were literally held together with insulated tape. Still, it appeared to be powered on and functional.
If I wasn’t in so much danger… I’d love to get a better look at what the human did with this thing. To wire Federation tech directly into one of their devices, and make it work…
My attention drifted back to the bounty laid out on the table before me. It could all be poisoned, but I’d already eaten the human’s food; what harm could it do to be full?
—
Sweeter than the orange one, but not as filling. Kind of mushy. Now no longer starving, I began to savor my meal slightly more. The green fruit was next, the one nearly the size of my skull. Upon breaking open the shell, it turned out to be pinkish red inside, and so juicy that I didn’t even need the water in the jug.
Bitter, but strangely satisfying. Next was a massive purple flower, which I could only guess was supposed to be food as well. The taste was unpleasant, but it felt bizarrely good to eat. Maybe a medicinal herb?
Why would the human give me a medicinal herb?
I’d been circling around the question for some time now. Why the food? Why the gun? Why the lack of gutting? Even if those supposed “empathy tests” weren’t faked, our species were at war! Did it not know?
Well-fed prey made for better-tasting prey, but a gun did not feed. A translator did not feed. Did it really want to talk to me? I weighed my options.
Option 1: Run. Impossible to do in my current state. Even with a large head start, even with uninjured legs, humans were nothing if not persistent; my odds were not all too favorable. And where would I go, anyway?
Option 2: Hide. Impossible to do in any state. Humans were perceptive and cunning. Nothing short of divine protection would hide me. And again, where would I go afterwards?
Option 3: Fight. I had a loaded gun, but for all I knew it was only there to lure me into a false sense of security. And besides, did I really expect to outfight a predator?
Option 4: Talk. It wasn’t likely, but maybe the human would have some sympathy (or at least fake some sympathy to keep up appearances). I was already injured, and it hadn’t torn me apart already; it clearly had something else in mind. Maybe the translator was involved in its “Something else”?
I didn’t… like that last option, but it seemed a hair better than shooting on sight when the human came back. Maybe I was forsaking the protection of the gods, forsaking my fellow Gojid. But none of the options were without risk, and I had to try something bold if I wanted to survive.
A noise from outside roused me from my thoughts. It’s coming. Time to make your choice.
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Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Halfway through the outbound trip, I realized I’d forgotten my pip-boy at camp. I’d taken both off, while working on wiring in that translator to the spare one from Vault 81. Having no way of assessing potential injuries simply would not do.
Halfway through the return trip, I realized I’d brought Dogmeat with me instead of leaving him to guard. I managed to make myself move a little faster. That .44 was no guarantee of safety, not if the alien simply couldn’t get up.
Once back, I could at least be sure that nothing happened. No blue blood seeping through the shack’s foundation. I grabbed the pip-boy, ordered Dogmeat to patrol, and prepared to leave before the daylight faded.
That’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Leaving without even checking on your guest?
I was leaving so I could build a fence for its protection, but… a quick check couldn’t hurt. Just to make sure nothing happened, right? Yeah. Sure. I had the time. Though maybe barging straight in wasn’t the brightest idea, not when I had just given it a revolver.
I knocked twice, and tried to lower my voice to a more soothing register. I had no idea if my hacked-together translator abomination would work, so tone was key. Before I could even speak, I heard a wild scrambling from the inside.
“Don’t— please don’t k-kill me, human, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”
…I guess I should be glad the translator worked? What the hell was that?
“I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise. Is it OK with you if I come inside?”
“I… Y-Yes.”
I gave Dogmeat a strong look to stay back, and cracked open the door. The terrified sniveling over the translator couldn’t have prepared me for what met my gaze.
A few weeks ago, I’d heard a heart-wrenching noise while poking around the edge of the glowing sea; a lone radstag doe, torn literally in half by a deathclaw. The beast was scared off by an approaching Vertibird, leaving the doe to wail helplessly until I put it out of its misery.
I had nothing else I could compare the alien to. It was shaking like an aspen leaf, eyes screwed shut and body curled up against the wall. The gun was still technically in its hand (claw?), but pointed at nothing. Just looking at the thing made me feel helpless.
But I brought it back from the brink of death. Soothing terror would surely be easier than saving its life.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Protector. Please, give me strength. It’s… It’s going to…
No. It just wants to talk. Rania, get a hold of yourself.
I cracked open an eye. Tears largely blinded me from the horrifying details of the predator, but the human still towered over me, casting an engulfing shadow over my weakened form. It was all I could do to not further embarrass myself with incoherent pleading.
It seemed to take notice of my fear, crouching down to roughly eye level.
“You’re OK. I’m not going to hurt you, no matter what. What’s your name?”
“R-Rania.” I forced another eye open. The human had moved itself to a chair. Soft daylight illuminated a pair of forward-facing eyes, but no predatory scowl. It had an expression which could be mistaken for solemn sympathy on another species. But it had no reason not to be sincere. There was no other audience, nor anything I could do to escape. Could it really be concerned?
“Rania. My name is Nate. Can you tell me… what you are?”
“Just Nate? I— I thought humans had two names.”
“Oh, uhh… Nathan Dunne. I just go by Nate.”
I noticed a distinct look of confusion engulf the human’s face. Actually, I started to notice a lot of things. It wasn’t just the building and translator that were so clearly improvised. It— Nate’s armor was clearly not standard-issue anything. Nor the weapon on his side, some sort of pistol made seemingly from scrap.
He didn’t look like a UN soldier, nor a civilian of any type. And… just now… did he ask what I was? How could he not know?
“I’m a… I’m a G—Gojid. Does that mean anything to you?”
He shook his head, which even I knew was a human gesture for no. “Not as such. I might need to work out some issues with the translator, though, so don't count on it meaning—”
“The Federation? The cradle? Venlil? Arxur? UN?”
A bizarre shudder passed through Nate. “I know about the UN, though I can’t imagine how they’re relevant now… and no to the rest.”
“I can’t imagine how they’re relevant”!? What the hell could that mean?
“What— what does the UN mean to you?”
Again, that shudder, like a shadow cast over his soul. “They were a global group, trying to keep international peace. When the first Resource wars sparked… they collapsed like a house of cards. 2052. I was 12. After that, it…” he trailed off, before forcing himself to speak. “It all went to hell. As you can see.”
I couldn’t speak for shock. Predators were deceitful by their nature, yet I knew in my heart his words were sincere. It was plain as day, etched across his face. And if so… What the hell? What the hell!? What was any of that?
“As you can see? What do you mean?”
“Can you walk?”
Should I reveal my weakness? I don’t see any way he couldn’t notice my condition by now, so maybe I can get some sympathy for it?
“I… no, I don’t think so…”
“Then I can carry you outside. If you want, I mean. You’ll see what I meant by ‘went to hell’ real quickly.”
He’d have to… oh Protector, if he chose to carry me to slaughter, there’d be nothing I could do. But by this point, my fear was starting to wear thin from weariness. Curiosity was slowly taking the upper hand.
“S-show me.”
And just like that, the world moved out from under me. Instinctively, I grasped the human’s artificial pelt like a pup clinging to its mother. Light flooded my still tearstained eyes. I blinked them clear, and looked out on the world.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Was this Earth? This couldn’t be Earth. Earth was green, wasn’t it?
Yellow foliage, grey trees. A soft blue sky, intermittently broken up by concrete highways that towered towards the clouds. And on the horizon, the mammoth corpse of a city, a metal carcass that dominated the skyline.
No green. No life. Not even wind. The whole scene was eerily still, seemingly frozen in time.
Unable to make sense of the wider world, my attention drifted closer. A ring of ramshackle fencing, a larger building that I might mistake for a house. An ancient hand-worked water pump. A plot of vegetables. A beast with glistening fangs, bounding towards—
“Dogmeat, no. Stay.”
Somehow, impossibly, the beast heeded the command, slowing down enough for me to get a better look at my imminent demise. Long brown fur with black markings, a swishing tail, a red fabric tied around its neck. Forward-facing eyes gleaming with hideous intelligence. It sat down, tilting its head and letting out a shrill whine.
“You still haven’t met Dogmeat yet, have you— Rania? Rania!”
I couldn’t breathe. It was looking straight at me. I thought the human was terrifying, but this thing made it look harmless. Did Nate not realize the danger he was in?
“N— No! Please… don’t let it…”
“It’s not going to hurt you either. You’re OK. Breathe.” Nate turned slightly, shielding the beast from view. “Here. We can go back inside if he scares you too much.” I managed to choke out an affirmation, and felt darkness overtake me as we rushed back into the relative safety of the shack. The door clicked shut, sealing the beast outside.
“Rania, talk to me. Can you breathe?”
“Please… please don’t feed me to it…”
Nate’s eyes went wide, and his hand rose to cover his mouth. I didn’t know much human body language (aside from the vicious snarl they called a smile), but shock was a constant across almost every species. His eyes cast around the room wildly, his breathing becoming erratic before he managed to regain control.
“Rania, I— I’m not going to feed you to him. You— listen, I won’t even let him in. It’s safe here.” He clearly had something else to say, and silently struggled with the words for a moment before finding his phrasing. “Can you tell me why you’re so scared? What happened before I found you?”
The words took several moments to consciously register, but their effect was immediate. If Nate was trying to startle me out of my fear, he couldn’t have done a better job. When I spoke, it was with startling clarity as fear was replaced by near-indignant confusion.
“How could I not be scared? You’re predators. Even if… even if you really don’t want to kill me, seeing injured prey must be a powerful temptation to your instincts, no? Not to mention the invasion of the cradle; even if you do have empathy, why try to save an enemy species?”
A few moments of stillness, and then I mimicked his previous motion of shock as I realized what I’d done. If he somehow didn’t know the situation with the Gojid before, he did now. Even prey empathy didn’t extend to their sworn enemies. My stupid thoughtless rambling meant I was good as dead.
“Rania.” Nate’s words were slow, soft, and measured. “I don’t know where you come from or what the situation is out… up there. But I can promise you this.” He tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of my terrified reverie and forcing me to pay full attention. “I’m never going to hurt you. I’ll keep it safe here, as long as it takes for you to heal. You can hold me to that.”
“Safe… even safe from that monster..?”
Nate looked deeply hurt, but quickly covered it up with his previous expression of concern. “Yes. I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
He stole a glance out the window, before turning back to me. “Listen. I need to get some supplies for the fence while there’s still light. I’ll take Dogmeat with me. Do you know how to use this?” He gestured towards the gun, still sitting where I’d carelessly let it slip from my claws minutes earlier.
“Y-yes.”
Apparently seeing straight through my lie, he bent down to show me. “Here, you just need to pull back the hammer. Finger over the trigger, and line up these sights on your target. Only pull the trigger when you know you have your shot.”
Nate stood up, putting one hand on the door before remembering something. “If you start hurting, you can use this.” He set a syringe down on the table. “Just stab wherever it hurts. The pack’ll do the rest for you. I’ll be back at sundown.”
And just like that, he was gone.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
For a while, I just sat there, gun in hand and mind slowly dissolving from all the new information weighing it down. But boredom is a powerful thing, and even injured as I was, restlessness started to take hold.
With the beast gone, and gun in hand, I started convincing myself that it might be a good idea to get another look at the land. I needed to know what I had to work with in case… something happened. And I swore I saw a vegetable garden earlier. Curiosity was getting the better of me.
I tested my legs again. One was sore, but shockingly capable. The other was still burning when I applied pressure, and swaddled in bandages. I didn’t particularly feel like knowing what was under there. One leg would have to do. I didn’t need my legs to shoot, after all.
Cautiously, without making a sound, I cracked the door open. Nobody was out there. I took one shaky step. Then another. Inch by silent sore inch, I made my way over to the “house”.
Like everything out here, it was a rough-hewn heap of rusted metal and thick planks of wood. On closer inspection, however, some care had clearly been put into making it insulated. The windows even had glass (albeit covered in dust), rather than the screen mesh in my shack. This must be where the human lives.
What could Nate be hiding from me?
My curiosity burned brighter than the pain in my leg as I ambled towards the door. Unlocked. I peeked inside.
Thick layers of carpet. A fireplace on the wall, a couple paintings. A mattress much better-maintained than mine, pushed up under one of the windows.
No blood dripping from cages. No hunting trophies on the walls. No indication that this was the lair of a predator. If not for the construction materials, it could be mistaken for a house back on the cradle. It even has refrigeration and lights, without a functional power grid. I guess that predatory cunning comes in handy.
I already knew what the fridge must be filled with. I made the decision not to look. It’d be better if Nate didn’t know I was here, and that’d be pretty hard to hide with vomit all over his carpet. I couldn’t stop myself from looking in one of the cabinets, though. The thing was stuffed with cans of food, nearly full to bursting. Some were clearly homemade, some looked like they’d been excavated from the dirt. Maybe they had been.
My good leg was starting to ache, cutting my exploration short. With no small hesitation, I forced myself back outside, back to the shack where I could rest up a bit.
—
I was only steps away from the door when a horrifying sight stopped me in my tracks. Dead animals, three of them. Sickly looking things, but recognizably the same species as that ‘Dogmeat’. I couldn’t look away. Was Nate hunting before I woke up? I stepped closer, morbid curiosity dowsing my pain. I don’t see any bite marks. And… predators don’t eat other predators.
Did he kill them to protect me?
Humans were apex predators on their planet. It couldn’t have been self-defense. Nor could it have been hunger, if he’d just left them to rot. So… what other reasons would he have to fight?
I looked closer, my eyes meeting a series of glassy stares. Two of them looked literally skin and bones, but the third looked a lot like Dogmeat. Mouth closed, eyes staring up at the sky unseeing. I almost felt bad for it.
“I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
Did Nate feel any conflict, having to shoot them on my behalf? Was he going to shoot Dogmeat too, just to ease my fears? He clearly cared about the beast, but if he thought “keeping me safe” meant…
No. I wouldn’t let it come to that. I had to overcome my fear. If I wanted to survive, I needed to be stronger.
Reaching out to the body, arm trembling, I ran a claw down its side. It was soft… still warm, too. The thought that this predator had been alive so recently, only to be put down for my safety, managed to elicit a twinge of sorrow. That feeling, hold on to that. Force it through your fear.
My movements got bolder, even exploring the rows of sharp teeth hidden by a clenched jaw. And the soft fur on its underbelly… its long tail, which sat limp and unmoving on the dust. I could feel my fear begin to fade more and more with every second I sat next to the body of this predator.
Eventually, I forced myself to rise. As I walked back to my bed, I stole one last glance backwards. Instead of horrifying predators, all I saw was a family of three. That they had to die so I could live… the thought filled me with a strange sense of shame.
I couldn’t stand there forever. My poor legs wouldn’t allow it. Back to the bed, step by shaky step.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Hauling sheet metal was no easy task, even with the help of a dog. It was dark by the time I got home; I’d missed my appointment with the sunset by nearly half an hour.
Supplies stowed away, armor shed, weapons holstered. I rummaged around the fridge for a radstag fry I’d prepared a couple days ago. I didn’t have the energy to cook, and I still needed to check in with Rania. Dogmeat hovered around my ankles, performing his best puppy impression.
These might be the last meals you get to eat with him. I gave a few scraps for his unconvincing performance.
I knew the minutemen would take good care of him, and Valentine could make good use of his nose. But saying goodbye would be a challenge. He’d had my back practically since I escaped Vault 111, and casting him aside felt like nothing short of a betrayal.
The radstag felt like sawdust in my mouth. I tossed the rest of it to Dogmeat, who looked up quizzically rather than digging in. I knew he was wondering why I was being so generous all of a sudden, but I wasn’t ready to break the news to him yet.
—
“Is it OK with you if I come in?”
The voice responding sounded completely different. Still recognizably Rania, but without the terrified quivering I’d expected. “Yes. We need to talk.”
I slipped inside, taking care not to let out too much heat. The figure facing me, while again still undoubtedly Rania, was otherwise unrecognizable. Sitting up straight, unshaking, looking directly at me. A far cry from the poor creature I’d talked to when I left. He (he? I decided to assume it was male, given the voice from the translator) turned his head slightly to the side, leaving one eye to meet both of mine in what I assumed was an intense stare for a person with side-facing eyes.
“Nate.” Rania’s voice was thick with determination. “I’ve decided… I want to get used to Dogmeat. If he’s really as friendly as you say, you shouldn’t have to get rid of him just because of my fear.”
It was all I could do to suppress a full-bodied sigh of relief. If he’s on the fence on this decision, showing my joy would force his hand. I have to stay calm. “Can I ask why?”
“I, uh… I found the other predators. The feral ones. The ones you shot.”
Oh.
“And I… I don’t want you to have to do the same for him. It doesn’t…” The quivering returned in shades, but he continued. “Even if you meant ‘find somewhere else for him’ literally, you shouldn’t have to do that for my sake.”
“I…” I buried my face in my hands, trying to beat back tears. “Thank you. I couldn’t imagine having to… thank you. I can still keep him away from you if you’re scared. You shouldn’t have to live in fear.”
Rania shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Actually, I was thinking I should… you know, get used to him, not just tolerate him from a distance. Face my fear head-on. Just… not tonight, OK?”
For all that quivering, he’s a lot braver than I thought he’d be.
“Yeah. We can get something worked out later. Right now, you need to rest. I’m not just talking about tonight; you’re still injured. Best you can do right now is rest and eat. Which reminds me… The vegetables I brought you earlier. How were they? Any you really liked?”
“Oh, uhhh… yeah, the orange one was really nice. And that red mushy one wasn’t so pleasant; I could eat it anyway to get full, but I’d rather not. Why do you have so many vegetables, anyway?”
Why wouldn’t I? “What do you mean?”
“Well, I thought… predators eat flesh, right? Were you growing them for decoration? I mean… it was nice to see something green and growing out here, but that seems like a lot of effort!”
I couldn’t manage a verbal response to this. All I could give was a baffled stare, which Rania seemed to interpret as a threat.
“I— I didn’t mean to insult you—”
“No, no, it’s just…” I rubbed my eyes. Hauling sheet metal had sapped all my energy, but I couldn’t just let this slide. “I mean… humans aren’t obligate carnivores. Most predators aren’t; even deathclaws forage for mutfruit when they can. Or does the word ‘predator’ mean something else to you?”
It was Rania’s turn for a blank stare, and I began to wonder if I’d just said something insulting. He looked down, mumbling something the translator couldn’t catch, then turned his attention back. “I think we should talk about this later. I need to rest.”
I knew it was a flimsy excuse (I could practically see his mind overheating as he stared back into the ground), but he wasn’t exactly wrong. I bid my farewell with a solemn nod.
—
The moon cast a picturesque blue light through the windows, giving just enough illumination to fend off sleep. On its own, the meager light couldn’t fight off the exhaustion radiating through my muscles, but Rania’s bizarre outburst was also keeping me up.
Not knowing about the history of our planet was perfectly reasonable, given his alien identity. Being so scared of humans despite apparently knowing about them was strange, but nothing a bit of trauma couldn’t induce. But even schoolchildren knew the basics of the food chain, and I found it hard to believe that a space-faring alien race would be less knowledgeable about ecology than the local population of raiders. Even with no education at all, certain things were obvious by observation.
If nothing else, Rania was right about one thing. We will need to talk about this later.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[Continued in comments]
submitted by Seamoose_Art to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Credit for The Nature of Predators goes to u/spacepaladin15.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: September, 2136)
At first, we assumed it to be an Arxur weapon, but we had plenty of time to get a more detailed look at the object intersecting our FTL trajectory. A mass of energy, far more than a star could emit, yet giving off no light. Gravitational pull was intense, but completely wrong for a black hole. Maybe the remains of a massive warp core accident? Whatever it was, it was directly in our path.
We had ample time before our collision, and nothing we could do. Our course was set, and escape vessels couldn’t be launched during an FTL jump. All that was left was to wait, and pray for a mercifully quick death that we all knew was unlikely. We built our starships to withstand direct assault from Arxur warships. Our deaths would be both inevitable and slow.
I was away from the refugee’s quarters, on the bridge. I couldn’t bear to watch pups cry in terror, as their parents tried hopelessly to ease their fear. The bridge was only marginally better. Some of the crew were facing their imminent death with stoicism. Many were praying. Many were crying. I don’t remember what I was doing when it hit, but I was probably crying too.
Then… then…
Pain, agonizing and blinding pain. No screaming. No noise at all. Silence, darkness, death.
Movement. But I couldn’t possibly move myself. Was I carried?
My first coherent memories started taking shape next to a fire. I couldn’t see, but the warmth and crackling were unmistakable. I tried to move, only to find myself unmoving. Was I in the wreckage of the ship? I felt no pain. Was I already dead?
“Hey, look who’s finally back in the land of the living. Can you hear me?”
A human. The species that started this whole mess. That attacked our cradle, let the Arxur find an easy target. That taunted us with their “Evacuation” cattle roundups. The disgusting mockery of a voice washed over me, tainting my very soul.
That fire must be to roast my flesh. Does it want my fear, before it kills me? It won’t get a single goddamn word, not so much as a noise.
“You… damn, he must still be out of it. Maybe another stimpak..?”
Cli-hsssss. A stabbing pain in my arm, followed by… relief? My arm twitched slightly, but I couldn’t manage anything more. A rushing sound filled my ears, overpowering the growl on my left until it bore me away to unconsciousness.
—
I woke up on a bed, staring at what must’ve been the ceiling, though all I could see was vague rust-brown shapes in the distance. My body still refused to move. And yet still, somehow, so little pain. Was my nervous system destroyed?
No. Hunger. Brutal, snarling hunger stabbed through my stomach like a dagger. I made a weak noise, remembered where I was, and rapidly forced silence. If it knows I’m awake, it’ll torture me until it lets me die…
“Oh! You— you’re awake again! Can you hear me?”
Don’t make a noise. It might lose interest.
“...No. Dammit. It’s going to starve if it doesn’t fully wake up soon… I can’t afford all these meds for much longer anyway. I’ll just have to… leave this here for it. Maybe it’ll wake again while I’m out.”
And just like that, a rush of movement and it was gone. It worked! I lived… I lived, just so I could starve…
By the graces of the protector. Food. I could smell food, just inches to my right. Can I move to pick it up? Can I move my jaw to eat?
Is it a trap? The human must be trying to fatten me up. Or maybe it didn’t leave at all, and is just waiting in the shadows to see if I take the bait. Or… maybe…
Fuck it. I was already good as dead, I could at least die full. I tried moving my arm, but to no avail. My other arm was no better. Maybe I could move my head?
The world shifted around me, a nauseating whirl of muted colors. But that meant my head could move. I could move… the food was still just barely out of reach. I can almost taste it… it’s so close to my nose…
I let out a weak cry of frustration. I couldn’t help myself. Did the human intend for this torture? The frustration became rage, filling my body like a white-hot star until I—
Trembling, my claw grasped the food. Rage and hunger animated my arm, pushing it forward. Whatever this was, it was soft. It smelled heavenly. I brought it up to my face. My vision was just recovered enough to make out its form; a strayu-like pillow drizzled with a sweet glaze. I tore into it like an animal, barely even tasting. I must not have eaten in days.
Gone in seconds, and the hunger was barely sated. But it was enough energy to force movement with. Slowly, unsteadily, I rose to a sitting position. The world threatened to shift away from under me, but I held, trying to get my bearings.
I’m in… some sort of shack. Bare, rusted sheet metal on the walls; clearly an improvised structure. Other than that oddity, the room was surprisingly normal. No blood dripping from cages, no hunting trophies on the walls. A torn up carpet, a beaten-up table and chair, some cabinets, all illuminated by soft rays of light pouring in from a window over the table. And right next to my little mattress… is that more food? Some sort of orange vegetable. Like the sweet strayu, I ate without even tasting.
Much better. I was still starving, but only metaphorically. I could even move my other arm, though my legs were entirely numb and refused to cooperate no matter how much I pushed them. Could I escape by dragging my body with my arms?
No. I was still too weak. I had to count on the human fattening me up a bit more before I could make a break for it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Just a hair to the right… and… Now. The interloper, a feral dog that had wandered onto the property, dropped without a sound.
I couldn’t afford to attract any attention, so I’d hastily slapped together a silencer for my pipe revolver. An old oil filter, just small enough to not obstruct the scope I’d hastily tied to the top. The gun looked ridiculous, but it got the job done silently. If I attracted any visitors, my alien guest was as good as dead. Nearly a week after finding it, and it still wasn’t waking up consistently.
Now’s not the time for thought. Focus. Now.
The second dog also dropped. The alpha of the pack still hadn’t noticed anything, a miracle. I lined up one last shot… pulled the trigger, and finally let myself breath. That was way too close. Every day without the fence finished was another day of silent stress.
Putting up a fence was easy enough, but putting up a fence QUIETLY was nightmarishly slow work, constantly punctuated by hiding from any would-be visitors. But these dogs had wandered onto the property without even seeing me. Could they smell the alien? I knew Dogmeat could track injuries from a far greater distance…
Fence should've been up yesterday. Back to work.
I’m running out of barbed wire. And screws. And boards. Can I afford another expedition? What if Dogmeat can’t defend him? Not a chance in hell I’m risking any other group learning about this… although Mama Murphy probably knows anyway, doesn’t she. Maybe the Minutemen can—
No. I can’t risk it. I’ll have to improvise. Maybe I can set up a Tesla arc as defense and leave to raid Sunshine Tidings. Rusted metal sheets don’t make for the best walls, but better than nothing.
The sun was still high, so I had some time if I hurried. As I began gathering supplies, a thought crossed my mind. A Tesla arc was better than nothing, and Dogmeat was formidable enough, but… surely if the alien was in serious danger, it could use some self defense. Those spikes weren’t gonna cut it. Maybe that bastard Kellogg’s old .44 would finally get some use?
I grabbed the .44 revolver, a spare arc trap I’d salvaged from Fort Hagan, and some tools. It would have to do. There was already power hooked up to the shack for heating, so wiring the—
The food’s gone.
Dogmeat didn’t eat carrots, so I knew there was only one culprit. The alien must’ve woken up while I was working. It was back asleep now, but at least it got something down. It wouldn’t starve. Thank god.
…right. If it can wake up, this trap is probably more dangerous to it than any invader. I walked back over to the shed, stowed the Tesla arc and tools, and grabbed a handful of vegetables and a water canteen. If it could stomach food, it needed to start putting on weight now to make up for lost time. This would be a start, at least.
I set the food and water on the table (taking care not to break the digital chimera I’d already laid there), and the gun beside the bed. I knew it could reach to there, without a doubt. Maybe toss in a handful more bullets, too; it’s not like I’d ever be able to make myself use the damn thing. I gave one last glance at the alien curled up on a bare mattress before closing the door and setting out.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Help me. Kay-ut. Ki-ra. Protector. Anyone. It’s right there.
When I heard the human coming, I faked sleep hoping it wouldn’t check. As seconds passed, that hope grew thinner and thinner. Clearly, it could see the food was gone. Not that it needed to figure anything out; it could probably see through my deception just looking at me. Ki-yu, trickster; please, let this work. Let me live a moment longer. Noises all around me. Was it laying out torturous weaponry? Was it getting ready to gut me?
Protector. Please. I don’t want to die.
The noise around me stopped. Had the gods heard my prayers? I dared not check; if the human was still there, and I so much as opened an eye, I was dead. But death failed to claim me, and more noises failed to appear, until I finally worked up the courage to take advantage of my blessing and open my eyes.
The human was gone. I was alive. One more look around the room, to make sure it hadn’t—
A gun. A human weapon, close enough to grab. And ammo…
I knew humans were masters at trapping, at deceiving; such was their nature. I stared at the gun, trying to figure out what the trap was.
But I was tired, and hungry, and every sense told me that this wasn’t a trap, but a loaded gun. An answer to my prayers for safety. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I picked it up. It felt solid and weighty in my hands, lending some sense of security to the otherwise hopeless situation. Emboldened, I tried to rise to my feet again.
If I grabbed some of the furniture and stood on my good leg, I could just about stay upright without pain. That would have to do for now. Maybe I could use something in this room as a crutch. A leg of the table might do nicely, if I could—
Food. More food, all over the table. A sprawl of alien vegetables, including that orange one I had earlier. A metal jug, probably filled with water. And… is that a translator?
Curiosity overpowered both my hunger and my fear. On closer inspection, it was indeed a translator, one of the older dedicated units. Wired into… some sort of metal armband with a green flickering screen. The craftsmanship was shoddy; some parts were literally held together with insulated tape. Still, it appeared to be powered on and functional.
If I wasn’t in so much danger… I’d love to get a better look at what the human did with this thing. To wire Federation tech directly into one of their devices, and make it work…
My attention drifted back to the bounty laid out on the table before me. It could all be poisoned, but I’d already eaten the human’s food; what harm could it do to be full?
—
Sweeter than the orange one, but not as filling. Kind of mushy. Now no longer starving, I began to savor my meal slightly more. The green fruit was next, the one nearly the size of my skull. Upon breaking open the shell, it turned out to be pinkish red inside, and so juicy that I didn’t even need the water in the jug.
Bitter, but strangely satisfying. Next was a massive purple flower, which I could only guess was supposed to be food as well. The taste was unpleasant, but it felt bizarrely good to eat. Maybe a medicinal herb?
Why would the human give me a medicinal herb?
I’d been circling around the question for some time now. Why the food? Why the gun? Why the lack of gutting? Even if those supposed “empathy tests” weren’t faked, our species were at war! Did it not know?
Well-fed prey made for better-tasting prey, but a gun did not feed. A translator did not feed. Did it really want to talk to me? I weighed my options.
Option 1: Run. Impossible to do in my current state. Even with a large head start, even with uninjured legs, humans were nothing if not persistent; my odds were not all too favorable. And where would I go, anyway?
Option 2: Hide. Impossible to do in any state. Humans were perceptive and cunning. Nothing short of divine protection would hide me. And again, where would I go afterwards?
Option 3: Fight. I had a loaded gun, but for all I knew it was only there to lure me into a false sense of security. And besides, did I really expect to outfight a predator?
Option 4: Talk. It wasn’t likely, but maybe the human would have some sympathy (or at least fake some sympathy to keep up appearances). I was already injured, and it hadn’t torn me apart already; it clearly had something else in mind. Maybe the translator was involved in its “Something else”?
I didn’t… like that last option, but it seemed a hair better than shooting on sight when the human came back. Maybe I was forsaking the protection of the gods, forsaking my fellow Gojid. But none of the options were without risk, and I had to try something bold if I wanted to survive.
A noise from outside roused me from my thoughts. It’s coming. Time to make your choice.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Halfway through the outbound trip, I realized I’d forgotten my pip-boy at camp. I’d taken both off, while working on wiring in that translator to the spare one from Vault 81. Having no way of assessing potential injuries simply would not do.
Halfway through the return trip, I realized I’d brought Dogmeat with me instead of leaving him to guard. I managed to make myself move a little faster. That .44 was no guarantee of safety, not if the alien simply couldn’t get up.
Once back, I could at least be sure that nothing happened. No blue blood seeping through the shack’s foundation. I grabbed the pip-boy, ordered Dogmeat to patrol, and prepared to leave before the daylight faded.
That’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Leaving without even checking on your guest?
I was leaving so I could build a fence for its protection, but… a quick check couldn’t hurt. Just to make sure nothing happened, right? Yeah. Sure. I had the time. Though maybe barging straight in wasn’t the brightest idea, not when I had just given it a revolver.
I knocked twice, and tried to lower my voice to a more soothing register. I had no idea if my hacked-together translator abomination would work, so tone was key. Before I could even speak, I heard a wild scrambling from the inside.
“Don’t— please don’t k-kill me, human, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”
…I guess I should be glad the translator worked? What the hell was that?
“I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise. Is it OK with you if I come inside?”
“I… Y-Yes.”
I gave Dogmeat a strong look to stay back, and cracked open the door. The terrified sniveling over the translator couldn’t have prepared me for what met my gaze.
A few weeks ago, I’d heard a heart-wrenching noise while poking around the edge of the glowing sea; a lone radstag doe, torn literally in half by a deathclaw. The beast was scared off by an approaching Vertibird, leaving the doe to wail helplessly until I put it out of its misery.
I had nothing else I could compare the alien to. It was shaking like an aspen leaf, eyes screwed shut and body curled up against the wall. The gun was still technically in its hand (claw?), but pointed at nothing. Just looking at the thing made me feel helpless.
But I brought it back from the brink of death. Soothing terror would surely be easier than saving its life.
—
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Protector. Please, give me strength. It’s… It’s going to…
No. It just wants to talk. Rania, get a hold of yourself.
I cracked open an eye. Tears largely blinded me from the horrifying details of the predator, but the human still towered over me, casting an engulfing shadow over my weakened form. It was all I could do to not further embarrass myself with incoherent pleading.
It seemed to take notice of my fear, crouching down to roughly eye level.
“You’re OK. I’m not going to hurt you, no matter what. What’s your name?”
“R-Rania.” I forced another eye open. The human had moved itself to a chair. Soft daylight illuminated a pair of forward-facing eyes, but no predatory scowl. It had an expression which could be mistaken for solemn sympathy on another species. But it had no reason not to be sincere. There was no other audience, nor anything I could do to escape. Could it really be concerned?
“Rania. My name is Nate. Can you tell me… what you are?”
“Just Nate? I— I thought humans had two names.”
“Oh, uhh… Nathan Dunne. I just go by Nate.”
I noticed a distinct look of confusion engulf the human’s face. Actually, I started to notice a lot of things. It wasn’t just the building and translator that were so clearly improvised. It— Nate’s armor was clearly not standard-issue anything. Nor the weapon on his side, some sort of pistol made seemingly from scrap.
He didn’t look like a UN soldier, nor a civilian of any type. And… just now… did he ask what I was? How could he not know?
“I’m a… I’m a G—Gojid. Does that mean anything to you?”
He shook his head, which even I knew was a human gesture for no. “Not as such. I might need to work out some issues with the translator, though, so don't count on it meaning—”
“The Federation? The cradle? Venlil? Arxur? UN?”
A bizarre shudder passed through Nate. “I know about the UN, though I can’t imagine how they’re relevant now… and no to the rest.”
“I can’t imagine how they’re relevant”!? What the hell could that mean?
“What— what does the UN mean to you?”
Again, that shudder, like a shadow cast over his soul. “They were a global group, trying to keep international peace. When the first Resource wars sparked… they collapsed like a house of cards. 2052. I was 12. After that, it…” he trailed off, before forcing himself to speak. “It all went to hell. As you can see.”
I couldn’t speak for shock. Predators were deceitful by their nature, yet I knew in my heart his words were sincere. It was plain as day, etched across his face. And if so… What the hell? What the hell!? What was any of that?
“As you can see? What do you mean?”
“Can you walk?”
Should I reveal my weakness? I don’t see any way he couldn’t notice my condition by now, so maybe I can get some sympathy for it?
“I… no, I don’t think so…”
“Then I can carry you outside. If you want, I mean. You’ll see what I meant by ‘went to hell’ real quickly.”
He’d have to… oh Protector, if he chose to carry me to slaughter, there’d be nothing I could do. But by this point, my fear was starting to wear thin from weariness. Curiosity was slowly taking the upper hand.
“S-show me.”
And just like that, the world moved out from under me. Instinctively, I grasped the human’s artificial pelt like a pup clinging to its mother. Light flooded my still tearstained eyes. I blinked them clear, and looked out on the world.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
Was this Earth? This couldn’t be Earth. Earth was green, wasn’t it?
Yellow foliage, grey trees. A soft blue sky, intermittently broken up by concrete highways that towered towards the clouds. And on the horizon, the mammoth corpse of a city, a metal carcass that dominated the skyline.
No green. No life. Not even wind. The whole scene was eerily still, seemingly frozen in time.
Unable to make sense of the wider world, my attention drifted closer. A ring of ramshackle fencing, a larger building that I might mistake for a house. An ancient hand-worked water pump. A plot of vegetables. A beast with glistening fangs, bounding towards—
“Dogmeat, no. Stay.”
Somehow, impossibly, the beast heeded the command, slowing down enough for me to get a better look at my imminent demise. Long brown fur with black markings, a swishing tail, a red fabric tied around its neck. Forward-facing eyes gleaming with hideous intelligence. It sat down, tilting its head and letting out a shrill whine.
“You still haven’t met Dogmeat yet, have you— Rania? Rania!”
I couldn’t breathe. It was looking straight at me. I thought the human was terrifying, but this thing made it look harmless. Did Nate not realize the danger he was in?
“N— No! Please… don’t let it…”
“It’s not going to hurt you either. You’re OK. Breathe.” Nate turned slightly, shielding the beast from view. “Here. We can go back inside if he scares you too much.” I managed to choke out an affirmation, and felt darkness overtake me as we rushed back into the relative safety of the shack. The door clicked shut, sealing the beast outside.
“Rania, talk to me. Can you breathe?”
“Please… please don’t feed me to it…”
Nate’s eyes went wide, and his hand rose to cover his mouth. I didn’t know much human body language (aside from the vicious snarl they called a smile), but shock was a constant across almost every species. His eyes cast around the room wildly, his breathing becoming erratic before he managed to regain control.
“Rania, I— I’m not going to feed you to him. You— listen, I won’t even let him in. It’s safe here.” He clearly had something else to say, and silently struggled with the words for a moment before finding his phrasing. “Can you tell me why you’re so scared? What happened before I found you?”
The words took several moments to consciously register, but their effect was immediate. If Nate was trying to startle me out of my fear, he couldn’t have done a better job. When I spoke, it was with startling clarity as fear was replaced by near-indignant confusion.
“How could I not be scared? You’re predators. Even if… even if you really don’t want to kill me, seeing injured prey must be a powerful temptation to your instincts, no? Not to mention the invasion of the cradle; even if you do have empathy, why try to save an enemy species?”
A few moments of stillness, and then I mimicked his previous motion of shock as I realized what I’d done. If he somehow didn’t know the situation with the Gojid before, he did now. Even prey empathy didn’t extend to their sworn enemies. My stupid thoughtless rambling meant I was good as dead.
“Rania.” Nate’s words were slow, soft, and measured. “I don’t know where you come from or what the situation is out… up there. But I can promise you this.” He tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of my terrified reverie and forcing me to pay full attention. “I’m never going to hurt you. I’ll keep it safe here, as long as it takes for you to heal. You can hold me to that.”
“Safe… even safe from that monster..?”
Nate looked deeply hurt, but quickly covered it up with his previous expression of concern. “Yes. I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
He stole a glance out the window, before turning back to me. “Listen. I need to get some supplies for the fence while there’s still light. I’ll take Dogmeat with me. Do you know how to use this?” He gestured towards the gun, still sitting where I’d carelessly let it slip from my claws minutes earlier.
“Y-yes.”
Apparently seeing straight through my lie, he bent down to show me. “Here, you just need to pull back the hammer. Finger over the trigger, and line up these sights on your target. Only pull the trigger when you know you have your shot.”
Nate stood up, putting one hand on the door before remembering something. “If you start hurting, you can use this.” He set a syringe down on the table. “Just stab wherever it hurts. The pack’ll do the rest for you. I’ll be back at sundown.”
And just like that, he was gone.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Transcription Subject: Rania, Gojid Civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: Error 560 (estimated date: Unknown)
For a while, I just sat there, gun in hand and mind slowly dissolving from all the new information weighing it down. But boredom is a powerful thing, and even injured as I was, restlessness started to take hold.
With the beast gone, and gun in hand, I started convincing myself that it might be a good idea to get another look at the land. I needed to know what I had to work with in case… something happened. And I swore I saw a vegetable garden earlier. Curiosity was getting the better of me.
I tested my legs again. One was sore, but shockingly capable. The other was still burning when I applied pressure, and swaddled in bandages. I didn’t particularly feel like knowing what was under there. One leg would have to do. I didn’t need my legs to shoot, after all.
Cautiously, without making a sound, I cracked the door open. Nobody was out there. I took one shaky step. Then another. Inch by silent sore inch, I made my way over to the “house”.
Like everything out here, it was a rough-hewn heap of rusted metal and thick planks of wood. On closer inspection, however, some care had clearly been put into making it insulated. The windows even had glass (albeit covered in dust), rather than the screen mesh in my shack. This must be where the human lives.
What could Nate be hiding from me?
My curiosity burned brighter than the pain in my leg as I ambled towards the door. Unlocked. I peeked inside.
Thick layers of carpet. A fireplace on the wall, a couple paintings. A mattress much better-maintained than mine, pushed up under one of the windows.
No blood dripping from cages. No hunting trophies on the walls. No indication that this was the lair of a predator. If not for the construction materials, it could be mistaken for a house back on the cradle. It even has refrigeration and lights, without a functional power grid. I guess that predatory cunning comes in handy.
I already knew what the fridge must be filled with. I made the decision not to look. It’d be better if Nate didn’t know I was here, and that’d be pretty hard to hide with vomit all over his carpet. I couldn’t stop myself from looking in one of the cabinets, though. The thing was stuffed with cans of food, nearly full to bursting. Some were clearly homemade, some looked like they’d been excavated from the dirt. Maybe they had been.
My good leg was starting to ache, cutting my exploration short. With no small hesitation, I forced myself back outside, back to the shack where I could rest up a bit.
—
I was only steps away from the door when a horrifying sight stopped me in my tracks. Dead animals, three of them. Sickly looking things, but recognizably the same species as that ‘Dogmeat’. I couldn’t look away. Was Nate hunting before I woke up? I stepped closer, morbid curiosity dowsing my pain. I don’t see any bite marks. And… predators don’t eat other predators.
Did he kill them to protect me?
Humans were apex predators on their planet. It couldn’t have been self-defense. Nor could it have been hunger, if he’d just left them to rot. So… what other reasons would he have to fight?
I looked closer, my eyes meeting a series of glassy stares. Two of them looked literally skin and bones, but the third looked a lot like Dogmeat. Mouth closed, eyes staring up at the sky unseeing. I almost felt bad for it.
“I wish I could prove to you that my dog is friendly, but… if he scares you that much, I’ll find somewhere else for him.”
Did Nate feel any conflict, having to shoot them on my behalf? Was he going to shoot Dogmeat too, just to ease my fears? He clearly cared about the beast, but if he thought “keeping me safe” meant…
No. I wouldn’t let it come to that. I had to overcome my fear. If I wanted to survive, I needed to be stronger.
Reaching out to the body, arm trembling, I ran a claw down its side. It was soft… still warm, too. The thought that this predator had been alive so recently, only to be put down for my safety, managed to elicit a twinge of sorrow. That feeling, hold on to that. Force it through your fear.
My movements got bolder, even exploring the rows of sharp teeth hidden by a clenched jaw. And the soft fur on its underbelly… its long tail, which sat limp and unmoving on the dust. I could feel my fear begin to fade more and more with every second I sat next to the body of this predator.
Eventually, I forced myself to rise. As I walked back to my bed, I stole one last glance backwards. Instead of horrifying predators, all I saw was a family of three. That they had to die so I could live… the thought filled me with a strange sense of shame.
I couldn’t stand there forever. My poor legs wouldn’t allow it. Back to the bed, step by shaky step.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Memory Recovery Subject: Nathan Dunne, sole survivor of Vault 111
Date: December 13th, 2287
Hauling sheet metal was no easy task, even with the help of a dog. It was dark by the time I got home; I’d missed my appointment with the sunset by nearly half an hour.
Supplies stowed away, armor shed, weapons holstered. I rummaged around the fridge for a radstag fry I’d prepared a couple days ago. I didn’t have the energy to cook, and I still needed to check in with Rania. Dogmeat hovered around my ankles, performing his best puppy impression.
These might be the last meals you get to eat with him. I gave a few scraps for his unconvincing performance.
I knew the minutemen would take good care of him, and Valentine could make good use of his nose. But saying goodbye would be a challenge. He’d had my back practically since I escaped Vault 111, and casting him aside felt like nothing short of a betrayal.
The radstag felt like sawdust in my mouth. I tossed the rest of it to Dogmeat, who looked up quizzically rather than digging in. I knew he was wondering why I was being so generous all of a sudden, but I wasn’t ready to break the news to him yet.
—
“Is it OK with you if I come in?”
The voice responding sounded completely different. Still recognizably Rania, but without the terrified quivering I’d expected. “Yes. We need to talk.”
I slipped inside, taking care not to let out too much heat. The figure facing me, while again still undoubtedly Rania, was otherwise unrecognizable. Sitting up straight, unshaking, looking directly at me. A far cry from the poor creature I’d talked to when I left. He (he? I decided to assume it was male, given the voice from the translator) turned his head slightly to the side, leaving one eye to meet both of mine in what I assumed was an intense stare for a person with side-facing eyes.
“Nate.” Rania’s voice was thick with determination. “I’ve decided… I want to get used to Dogmeat. If he’s really as friendly as you say, you shouldn’t have to get rid of him just because of my fear.”
It was all I could do to suppress a full-bodied sigh of relief. If he’s on the fence on this decision, showing my joy would force his hand. I have to stay calm. “Can I ask why?”
“I, uh… I found the other predators. The feral ones. The ones you shot.”
Oh.
“And I… I don’t want you to have to do the same for him. It doesn’t…” The quivering returned in shades, but he continued. “Even if you meant ‘find somewhere else for him’ literally, you shouldn’t have to do that for my sake.”
“I…” I buried my face in my hands, trying to beat back tears. “Thank you. I couldn’t imagine having to… thank you. I can still keep him away from you if you’re scared. You shouldn’t have to live in fear.”
Rania shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Actually, I was thinking I should… you know, get used to him, not just tolerate him from a distance. Face my fear head-on. Just… not tonight, OK?”
For all that quivering, he’s a lot braver than I thought he’d be.
“Yeah. We can get something worked out later. Right now, you need to rest. I’m not just talking about tonight; you’re still injured. Best you can do right now is rest and eat. Which reminds me… The vegetables I brought you earlier. How were they? Any you really liked?”
“Oh, uhhh… yeah, the orange one was really nice. And that red mushy one wasn’t so pleasant; I could eat it anyway to get full, but I’d rather not. Why do you have so many vegetables, anyway?”
Why wouldn’t I? “What do you mean?”
“Well, I thought… predators eat flesh, right? Were you growing them for decoration? I mean… it was nice to see something green and growing out here, but that seems like a lot of effort!”
I couldn’t manage a verbal response to this. All I could give was a baffled stare, which Rania seemed to interpret as a threat.
“I— I didn’t mean to insult you—”
“No, no, it’s just…” I rubbed my eyes. Hauling sheet metal had sapped all my energy, but I couldn’t just let this slide. “I mean… humans aren’t obligate carnivores. Most predators aren’t; even deathclaws forage for mutfruit when they can. Or does the word ‘predator’ mean something else to you?”
It was Rania’s turn for a blank stare, and I began to wonder if I’d just said something insulting. He looked down, mumbling something the translator couldn’t catch, then turned his attention back. “I think we should talk about this later. I need to rest.”
I knew it was a flimsy excuse (I could practically see his mind overheating as he stared back into the ground), but he wasn’t exactly wrong. I bid my farewell with a solemn nod.
—
The moon cast a picturesque blue light through the windows, giving just enough illumination to fend off sleep. On its own, the meager light couldn’t fight off the exhaustion radiating through my muscles, but Rania’s bizarre outburst was also keeping me up.
Not knowing about the history of our planet was perfectly reasonable, given his alien identity. Being so scared of humans despite apparently knowing about them was strange, but nothing a bit of trauma couldn’t induce. But even schoolchildren knew the basics of the food chain, and I found it hard to believe that a space-faring alien race would be less knowledgeable about ecology than the local population of raiders. Even with no education at all, certain things were obvious by observation.
If nothing else, Rania was right about one thing. We will need to talk about this later.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[Continued in comments]
2023.06.10 15:09 Tapacoba0623 [WTS] EDC Items; Military Gear; Safariland and Blackhawk SERPA
TIMESTAMP https://imgur.com/a/8O4D69K
MILITARY ITEMS: Pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMt3-agggmWWEn5khEFtJY28LcHX5oGf-Px6jn_g5QobnkXE3yxbOb8Jj0U-D9XeQ?key=c2RNOFJJTzlFaWdlM2FwSExBWXVtYU5uazhOMXZn
ISSUE UNDERSHIRT-DRIFIRE-SMALL USED LIGHTLY
ISSUE UNDERSHIRTS-DRIFIRE-SMALL-IN PACKAGE x4
NWU TYPE III PARKA-NEW-MEDIUM REGULAR BROWN PARKA LINER-NEW-MEDIUM LONG
3 X NWU TYPE II MEDIUM REGULAR TROUSERS / BLOUSE SET; 7 1/4 8 POINT COVER-NEW W/ TAG
1 X NWU TYPE II MEDIUM LONG BLOUSE WITH VELCRO
1 x NWU TYPE II MEDIUM LONG BLOUSE; TROUSERS WITH VELCRO PATCHES SEWN ON AND A COVER SET
LBT LARGE KHAKI BELT
"SILKIES"-NEW IN BAG-TOP AND BOTTOM MEDIUM REGULAR
2 X SPORTHILL RUNNING PANTS NEW WITHOUT TAGS
SAFARILAND-TAKE IT ALL FOR $150 1. 6004 Earth Brown Drop Flex Adaptor 6004-27-55; 7378 ALS Concealment Holster-Right hand-$75 2. MODEL 6004-16 MOLLE LOCKING SYSTEM ACCESSORY LOCKING FORK (MLS 16) with QLS-22 $10 3. 6075UBL WITH QLS-22 $20 4. 568BL Injection Molded Paddle with QLS 22 Receiver for 3-Hole Pattern Holsters $20 5. 567BL Custom Fit Holster for Pistols Belt Loop Black $15 6. 7378, ALS Concealment Paddle and Belt Loop Combo Holster, Right Hand $30 7. 6070UBL Mid-Ride Universal Belt Loop, Flat Dark Earth WITH QLS-22 $20 8. 567BL Custom Fit Holster for Pistols Belt Loop $10 9. Model 71 Universal Single or Double Stack Ambidextrous Magazine Pouch 71-2 FLAT DARK EARTH X4 -$10 EACH
BLACKHAWK- TAKE IT ALL FOR $75 1. SERPA Level 3 Tactical Holster - Black Matte Finish-Right Hand $50 2. 410506CT-R: Serpa Cqc Holster -Ct-R Sig 220/225/226 W,W/O Std Rail $25 3. Swivel Style Tactical Lanyard $10 4. SERPA S.T.R.I.K.E. CQC Platform (Ambidextrous), Coyote $10 5. BLACKHAWK SERPA Quick Disconnect Kit (2 Female/1 Male) $20
EDC Items: Pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMTGSKuKleaD0SFhtqOYrYo4VNcllUuudntrDiyDvNmSh92XhBHAUVbmnNq-Ki-hw?key=b1BOTVktZHdEaGVXUEdLTWVmRTgxeGxsNGZ0VDNn
PRICES INCLUDE CONUS SHIPPING FROM VIRGINIA BEACH, VA
PayPal for payment.
Thanks for looking!
submitted by Tapacoba0623 to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]
MILITARY ITEMS: Pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMt3-agggmWWEn5khEFtJY28LcHX5oGf-Px6jn_g5QobnkXE3yxbOb8Jj0U-D9XeQ?key=c2RNOFJJTzlFaWdlM2FwSExBWXVtYU5uazhOMXZn
- UDT LIFE PRESERVER, YOKE AND 4 CO2 CARTRIDGES-NEW IN CONTAINERS-$75
- YATES KEVLAR LADDERMAN HARNESS W/ FIGURE 8 BRAND NEW-Size Large $100
- UNIFORM ITEMS-TAKE IT ALL FOR $250
ISSUE UNDERSHIRT-DRIFIRE-SMALL USED LIGHTLY
ISSUE UNDERSHIRTS-DRIFIRE-SMALL-IN PACKAGE x4
NWU TYPE III PARKA-NEW-MEDIUM REGULAR BROWN PARKA LINER-NEW-MEDIUM LONG
3 X NWU TYPE II MEDIUM REGULAR TROUSERS / BLOUSE SET; 7 1/4 8 POINT COVER-NEW W/ TAG
1 X NWU TYPE II MEDIUM LONG BLOUSE WITH VELCRO
1 x NWU TYPE II MEDIUM LONG BLOUSE; TROUSERS WITH VELCRO PATCHES SEWN ON AND A COVER SET
LBT LARGE KHAKI BELT
"SILKIES"-NEW IN BAG-TOP AND BOTTOM MEDIUM REGULAR
2 X SPORTHILL RUNNING PANTS NEW WITHOUT TAGS
SAFARILAND-TAKE IT ALL FOR $150 1. 6004 Earth Brown Drop Flex Adaptor 6004-27-55; 7378 ALS Concealment Holster-Right hand-$75 2. MODEL 6004-16 MOLLE LOCKING SYSTEM ACCESSORY LOCKING FORK (MLS 16) with QLS-22 $10 3. 6075UBL WITH QLS-22 $20 4. 568BL Injection Molded Paddle with QLS 22 Receiver for 3-Hole Pattern Holsters $20 5. 567BL Custom Fit Holster for Pistols Belt Loop Black $15 6. 7378, ALS Concealment Paddle and Belt Loop Combo Holster, Right Hand $30 7. 6070UBL Mid-Ride Universal Belt Loop, Flat Dark Earth WITH QLS-22 $20 8. 567BL Custom Fit Holster for Pistols Belt Loop $10 9. Model 71 Universal Single or Double Stack Ambidextrous Magazine Pouch 71-2 FLAT DARK EARTH X4 -$10 EACH
BLACKHAWK- TAKE IT ALL FOR $75 1. SERPA Level 3 Tactical Holster - Black Matte Finish-Right Hand $50 2. 410506CT-R: Serpa Cqc Holster -Ct-R Sig 220/225/226 W,W/O Std Rail $25 3. Swivel Style Tactical Lanyard $10 4. SERPA S.T.R.I.K.E. CQC Platform (Ambidextrous), Coyote $10 5. BLACKHAWK SERPA Quick Disconnect Kit (2 Female/1 Male) $20
EDC Items: Pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMTGSKuKleaD0SFhtqOYrYo4VNcllUuudntrDiyDvNmSh92XhBHAUVbmnNq-Ki-hw?key=b1BOTVktZHdEaGVXUEdLTWVmRTgxeGxsNGZ0VDNn
- GORUCK Steel 15L MiV Bullet with Red Pulls -Got in a trade and never used it-doubt the previous ownder did either. Added a Mandalorian patch because it gives me a Star Wars Vibe. $140
- RFF The Chief - Splatter Print Front with sternum strap and pulls replaced with easy pulls. Lightly used for EDC; Overwise in new condition. $140
- GORUCK Black Claymore -Non adjustable strap - New Condition $75
- GR 15L MiUSA Standard Black Bullet-Used a couple times for travel EDC-realized I couldn’t use for rucking because I can’t put a plate and a bladder in. 😢 Changed zipper pulls to easy pull U shape. $100
- GWA Citadel Full Wall Admin Panel with built in iPad pouch by Kenn Walker (Fits in both Full Size and Micro/Crew). I put in a bag and never used it. Ordered custom - looking to recuperate some cost @ $140
- LOT 1: Alpha One Niner Notebook Cover SIDE LOAD, 4”x 6” Rite in the Rain Notebook, Zebra Steel 401 2 pens with 2 refills. $30
- LOT 2: Alpha One Niner Notebook Cover TOP LOAD, 4”x 6” Rite in the Rain Notebook, Zebra Steel 401 2 pens with 2 refills. $30
- LOT 3: RFF Notebook Cover and Rite in the Rain Pen-Matte Black (Takes top bound 3” x 5” notebook); Titanium pry bar and small bottle opener with plasma ano on it; red SAK $60
- LOT 4. Borghini (Handmade in Venice, Italy) I got them from a paper shop there) Ballpoint Pen with Parker Fill and Fountain Pen that takes Kaweco style cartridges; Zebra Steel Black Permanent Marker; Zebra Disposable Fountain Pens. $35
- LOT 5. 3 x Moleskine Cahiers Notebooks; Kaweco Special BP Black w/ Clip and Pink/Black Perkeo Fountain Pen in tin $60
- Patagonia Nano Puff Tan/Khaki Medium. Has repairs from Patagonia (See pictures). $80
- Solar Shower Bag-Brand New in packaging $20
- Uberleben Stainless Steel Kessel Pot-Brand New-Comes in Waxed Canvas bag $40
- Wise Owl Camping Pillows x2 Red-Used for 2 camping trips-in great condition. $20 for both
- Blue and Green Compact Chairs. Used for a music festival-the Green bag zipper is broken. $20 for both
PRICES INCLUDE CONUS SHIPPING FROM VIRGINIA BEACH, VA
PayPal for payment.
Thanks for looking!
2023.06.10 14:56 Tapacoba0623 [WTS] EDC; Military; Outdoors Kit
UPDATED 6/10/2023 @ 0900
Pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMTGSKuKleaD0SFhtqOYrYo4VNcllUuudntrDiyDvNmSh92XhBHAUVbmnNq-Ki-hw?key=b1BOTVktZHdEaGVXUEdLTWVmRTgxeGxsNGZ0VDNn
Pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMt3-agggmWWEn5khEFtJY28LcHX5oGf-Px6jn_g5QobnkXE3yxbOb8Jj0U-D9XeQ?key=c2RNOFJJTzlFaWdlM2FwSExBWXVtYU5uazhOMXZn
ISSUE UNDERSHIRT-DRIFIRE-SMALL USED LIGHTLY
ISSUE UNDERSHIRTS-DRIFIRE-SMALL-IN PACKAGE x4
NWU TYPE III PARKA-NEW-MEDIUM REGULAR BROWN PARKA LINER-NEW-MEDIUM LONG
3 X NWU TYPE II MEDIUM REGULAR TROUSERS / BLOUSE SET; 7 1/4 8 POINT COVER-NEW W/ TAG
1 X NWU TYPE II MEDIUM LONG BLOUSE WITH VELCRO
1 x NWU TYPE II MEDIUM LONG BLOUSE; TROUSERS WITH VELCRO PATCHES SEWN ON AND A COVER SET
LBT LARGE KHAKI BELT
"SILKIES"-NEW IN BAG-TOP AND BOTTOM MEDIUM REGULAR
2 X SPORTHILL RUNNING PANTS NEW WITHOUT TAGS
SAFARILAND-TAKE IT ALL FOR $150 1. 6004 Earth Brown Drop Flex Adaptor 6004-27-55; 7378 ALS Concealment Holster-Right hand-$75 2. MODEL 6004-16 MOLLE LOCKING SYSTEM ACCESSORY LOCKING FORK (MLS 16) with QLS-22 $10 3. 6075UBL WITH QLS-22 $20 4. 568BL Injection Molded Paddle with QLS 22 Receiver for 3-Hole Pattern Holsters $20 5. 567BL Custom Fit Holster for Pistols Belt Loop Black $15 6. 7378, ALS Concealment Paddle and Belt Loop Combo Holster, Right Hand $30 7. 6070UBL Mid-Ride Universal Belt Loop, Flat Dark Earth WITH QLS-22 $20 8. 567BL Custom Fit Holster for Pistols Belt Loop $10 9. Model 71 Universal Single or Double Stack Ambidextrous Magazine Pouch 71-2 FLAT DARK EARTH X4 -$10 EACH
BLACKHAWK- TAKE IT ALL FOR $75 1. SERPA Level 3 Tactical Holster - Black Matte Finish-Right Hand $50 2. 410506CT-R: Serpa Cqc Holster -Ct-R Sig 220/225/226 W,W/O Std Rail $25 3. Swivel Style Tactical Lanyard $10 4. SERPA S.T.R.I.K.E. CQC Platform (Ambidextrous), Coyote $10 5. BLACKHAWK SERPA Quick Disconnect Kit (2 Female/1 Male) $20
If I am off base pricing wise-send me an offer.
PRICES INCLUDE CONUS SHIPPING FROM VIRGINIA BEACH, VA
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Thanks for looking!
submitted by Tapacoba0623 to GearTrade [link] [comments]
Pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMTGSKuKleaD0SFhtqOYrYo4VNcllUuudntrDiyDvNmSh92XhBHAUVbmnNq-Ki-hw?key=b1BOTVktZHdEaGVXUEdLTWVmRTgxeGxsNGZ0VDNn
- GORUCK Steel 15L MiV Bullet with Red Pulls -Got in a trade and never used it-doubt the previous ownder did either. Added a Mandalorian patch because it gives me a Star Wars Vibe. $140
- RFF The Chief - Splatter Print Front with sternum strap and pulls replaced with easy pulls. Lightly used for EDC; Overwise in new condition. $140
- GORUCK Black Claymore -Non adjustable strap - New Condition $75
- GR 15L MiUSA Standard Black Bullet-Used a couple times for travel EDC-realized I couldn’t use for rucking because I can’t put a plate and a bladder in. 😢 Changed zipper pulls to easy pull U shape. $100
- GWA Citadel Full Wall Admin Panel with built in iPad pouch by Kenn Walker (Fits in both Full Size and Micro/Crew). I put in a bag and never used it. Ordered custom - looking to recuperate some cost @ $140
- LOT 1: Alpha One Niner Notebook Cover SIDE LOAD, 4”x 6” Rite in the Rain Notebook, Zebra Steel 401 2 pens with 2 refills. $30
- LOT 2: Alpha One Niner Notebook Cover TOP LOAD, 4”x 6” Rite in the Rain Notebook, Zebra Steel 401 2 pens with 2 refills. $30
- LOT 3: RFF Notebook Cover and Rite in the Rain Pen-Matte Black (Takes top bound 3” x 5” notebook); Titanium pry bar and small bottle opener with plasma ano on it; red SAK $60
- LOT 4. Borghini (Handmade in Venice, Italy) I got them from a paper shop there) Ballpoint Pen with Parker Fill and Fountain Pen that takes Kaweco style cartridges; Zebra Steel Black Permanent Marker; Zebra Disposable Fountain Pens. $35
- LOT 5. 3 x Moleskine Cahiers Notebooks; Kaweco Special BP Black w/ Clip and Pink/Black Perkeo Fountain Pen in tin $60
- Field & Stream 1871 Mountain Scout Outdoor Hiking Backpack w/ Internal Frame 45L Brand New-I bought this before my spouse decided to get into hiking and got us matching packs. $75
- Patagonia Nano Puff Tan/Khaki Medium. Has repairs from Patagonia (See pictures). $80
- Solar Shower Bag-Brand New in packaging $20
- Uberleben Stainless Steel Kessel Pot-Brand New-Comes in Waxed Canvas bag $40
- Wise Owl Camping Pillows x2 Red-Used for 2 camping trips-in great condition. $20 for both
- Blue and Green Compact Chairs. Used for a music festival-the Green bag zipper is broken. $20 for both
Pictures: https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMt3-agggmWWEn5khEFtJY28LcHX5oGf-Px6jn_g5QobnkXE3yxbOb8Jj0U-D9XeQ?key=c2RNOFJJTzlFaWdlM2FwSExBWXVtYU5uazhOMXZn
- UDT LIFE PRESERVER, YOKE AND 4 CO2 CARTRIDGES-NEW IN CONTAINERS-$75
- YATES KEVLAR LADDERMAN HARNESS W/ FIGURE 8 BRAND NEW-Size Large $100
- UNIFORM ITEMS-TAKE IT ALL FOR $250
ISSUE UNDERSHIRT-DRIFIRE-SMALL USED LIGHTLY
ISSUE UNDERSHIRTS-DRIFIRE-SMALL-IN PACKAGE x4
NWU TYPE III PARKA-NEW-MEDIUM REGULAR BROWN PARKA LINER-NEW-MEDIUM LONG
3 X NWU TYPE II MEDIUM REGULAR TROUSERS / BLOUSE SET; 7 1/4 8 POINT COVER-NEW W/ TAG
1 X NWU TYPE II MEDIUM LONG BLOUSE WITH VELCRO
1 x NWU TYPE II MEDIUM LONG BLOUSE; TROUSERS WITH VELCRO PATCHES SEWN ON AND A COVER SET
LBT LARGE KHAKI BELT
"SILKIES"-NEW IN BAG-TOP AND BOTTOM MEDIUM REGULAR
2 X SPORTHILL RUNNING PANTS NEW WITHOUT TAGS
SAFARILAND-TAKE IT ALL FOR $150 1. 6004 Earth Brown Drop Flex Adaptor 6004-27-55; 7378 ALS Concealment Holster-Right hand-$75 2. MODEL 6004-16 MOLLE LOCKING SYSTEM ACCESSORY LOCKING FORK (MLS 16) with QLS-22 $10 3. 6075UBL WITH QLS-22 $20 4. 568BL Injection Molded Paddle with QLS 22 Receiver for 3-Hole Pattern Holsters $20 5. 567BL Custom Fit Holster for Pistols Belt Loop Black $15 6. 7378, ALS Concealment Paddle and Belt Loop Combo Holster, Right Hand $30 7. 6070UBL Mid-Ride Universal Belt Loop, Flat Dark Earth WITH QLS-22 $20 8. 567BL Custom Fit Holster for Pistols Belt Loop $10 9. Model 71 Universal Single or Double Stack Ambidextrous Magazine Pouch 71-2 FLAT DARK EARTH X4 -$10 EACH
BLACKHAWK- TAKE IT ALL FOR $75 1. SERPA Level 3 Tactical Holster - Black Matte Finish-Right Hand $50 2. 410506CT-R: Serpa Cqc Holster -Ct-R Sig 220/225/226 W,W/O Std Rail $25 3. Swivel Style Tactical Lanyard $10 4. SERPA S.T.R.I.K.E. CQC Platform (Ambidextrous), Coyote $10 5. BLACKHAWK SERPA Quick Disconnect Kit (2 Female/1 Male) $20
If I am off base pricing wise-send me an offer.
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2023.06.10 08:04 ammodotcom Best 22 Pistol Ammo: Plinking, Hunting, Competition and More!
The humble .22 Long Rifle has remained one of the most popular rounds on the planet for many decades, and with good reason. It’s used in everything from AR platform rifles to precision bolt actions to a mind-boggling variety of handguns.
Today we’re going to be focusing on the latter and taking a close look at the best .22 pistol ammo on the market today. We’ve done a lot of testing to find out what performs the best in the widest variety of .22 pistols we could get our hands on.
Our top overall pick is CCI Standard Velocity because it’s a great general-purpose option that can do it all.
We also have more specific options for plinking, small game hunting, competition, self-defense (yes, from other humans), suppressed shooting, and a bulk option for those who want to have enough ammo to outlast the end of days.
Seriously, this was some of the most reliable ammo of the lot, and while it is a touch more expensive than some of our budget and bulk favorites, I think the greater reliability is worth the tradeoffs.
It was very consistent in terms of velocity, and we had a great time lining up some targets at the range and rapid-firing entire mags into the A-zone of a USPSA silhouette from 10 yards. The high initial velocity also keeps the projectile relatively stable in the air at longer ranges, for what that’s worth when you’re shooting .22 LR out of a pistol anyway.
It’s also fairly affordable at around $.12/round, which is on the higher side for .22, but nothing like what you’d pay for match ammo or anything truly high-performance. All in all, this is a great general-purpose option.
Honorable Mention: Federal Champion Value Pack. This is another great option that’s a little cheaper but still runs like a champ (it’s in the name, after all). Great performer with a standard 36gr lead round nose projectile.
We’ve all been stuck using our fingernails to pry an unfired .22 out of a chamber because the primer just refuses to do its job, which isn’t a huge deal when you’re out plinking, but it does definitely put a damper on your day.
Especially if you have to stop halfway through a mag multiple times to fix a malfunction that’s pretty clearly because of an ammo defect. With Federal’s AutoMatch, semi-auto pistol shooters will have fewer issues and much better performance, even compared to more expensive bulk pack options.
Honorable Mention: Remington Thunderbolt 22 LR ammunition is another reliable lead-nose round at a solid price.
It has a fairly high velocity for a .22 LR, especially at this kind of price point, and the copper wash on the hollow point is layered deep enough that it actually makes a difference in how the bullet performs vs. a standard lead projectile with a hollow nose. Sometimes, that’s not the case.
Not all copper-plated .22 ammo is made equally, and that matters when we’re looking for .22 pistol ammo in particular because a softer lead projectile, or even a low-quality copper-plated projectile, can deform when feeding.
This can cause a jam that can really ruin your hunt if it happens when you need that key follow-up shot. For that reason, a well-made projectile is key here, and the Super-X Power Points have been very reliable on that front.
Honorable Mention: CCI Mini-Mag is another great hunting choice and the option of choice for A&E’s Swamp People, so if you want something that’s proven to work on at least gator-sized game (with proper shot placement), this is a solid pick.
Velocities are very consistent, primers are reliable, and groups are as tight as you can expect from a standard .22 pistol. If you’re going to the Olympics or there’s serious money on the line, there are some other more expensive options out there (Lapua Center-X, etc.), but for us average folks just shooting some steel challenge or what have you, this is a great option.
Honorable Mention: Federal Target Grade. Consistent velocity, good primers, and harder-than-average lead round-nose projectiles. It’s also very affordable for a match(ish) grade .22 round.
That said, for folks with less than stellar hand strength, very inexperienced shooters, or for those who carry a pint-sized backup concealed carry like an NAA revolver or Lifecard, then a hyper-velocity .22 is a great option, especially if you’re carrying CCI Stingers.
No .22, not even .22 WMR, is going to be able to compete with even the lowest end of defensive centerfire rounds like .380 ACP. However, with CCI Stingers, you’ve got just about the most velocity you can get out of the cartridge, coupled with nickel-plated cases that feed and extract more reliably than brass cases.
The other problem is that you have a 5-inch barrel or less on most .22 pistols, so the ammo you choose has to be very high-velocity. It doesn’t get much higher than these.
Lastly, the high-quality copper-plated hollow point bullets reduce lead fouling, feed more reliably, and have a better chance of penetrating bone than a soft-lead bullet. In soft tissue, that hollow nose helps the round expand so you get the most out of the admittedly diminutive diameter of the round.
Overall, if it weren’t for the cost, these would have been our overall pick just based on performance and the fact that they’re accurate enough for target shooting and hit hard enough for self-defense, home defense, or hunting too.
Honorable Mention: Eley High Velocity is another hollow point that has enough speed behind it to be a decent defensive candidate in a pinch. Eley’s rimfire ammunition, in general, is very high quality and a great option overall.
Suppressing a .22 is a great idea in general, but having the right ammo makes all the difference.
The lightweight, relatively slow bullet makes it a great choice for suppressing, the low pressure means .22 suppressors are dirt cheap compared to something like a centerfire rifle caliber suppressor, and you have a variety of different types of ammo available based on what you’re looking to do.
Winchester Super Suppressed is one of the best-performing subsonic .22s we’ve tested, and I can personally confirm that it fed and cycled reliably in my M&P 22, Browning Buckmark, Walther P22, and Ruger 10/22.
The plated 45gr projectile leaves less fouling, which is great when dealing with traditionally dirty .22 semi-autos, which get even dirtier once you add a suppressor into the mix.
Honorable Mention:
It’s a great multi-purpose option that works well for both of its stated purposes. As a target round, it goes more or less where you tell it to, and it goes bang when you want it to, which is all most of us plinkers really need. For more serious target shooting, there are better options, but this is a great training choice.
As a hunting round, there are better choices as well, but I’ve still hunted countless small game animals with this stuff, and so have others. It’s a solid performer vs. snakes, squirrels, and other varmints.
Lastly, it’s cheap. If you’re looking to shoot all day, want enough ammo on hand to ride out a shortage (or the apocalypse), or you’re just looking to get some training in on a tight budget, this is the choice for you.
Honorable Mentions: Aguila Super Extra is another affordable 22LR ammo option that you can get in massive quantities without breaking the bank. It’s a solid performer and one that I was pleased to find cycled well in all of our semi-automatics.
Blazer 22: Yet another affordable option for those looking to “buy it cheap and stack it deep.” I tend to pick up a brick whenever I have a new .22 to test out, and it’s my go-to for those days when I’m teaching new shooters as well.
You can also check out our full list of the best bulk .22 ammo options for more ideas.
This close look at all the best .22 ammo options out there should give you all the info you need to find the right ammo for your gun and specific shooting circumstances, but if you’d like a little more info on .22 pistol ammo in general, you’ll find that below.
The reality is a .22 is only ever going to be an effective hunting tool for very small game and pest species. Think rabbits, squirrels, snakes, and the like.
For this type of hunting/pest control, you can probably get by with standard lead round nose (LRN) projectiles, but really you’ll want a copper-plated hollow point of at least 32gr and moving over 1200fps if at all possible.
This will give you the energy to deal with small game animals and pests reliably and will reliably cycle something like a temperamental semi-auto as well.
This makes it a great option for training as well, and is why you can get a .22 LR equivalent of most popular firearms, including AR-15s, Glocks, precision bolt actions, and more. This allows for some very affordable training with a very similar platform.
Is this type of ammo always super reliable? Unfortunately not, but for just blasting holes in old soda cans or exploding clay pigeons, that doesn’t matter so much. On the training side of things, you could even look at a dud primer or failure to extract as a feature instead of a bug.
After all, it forces you to practice your malfunction clears. Of course, we don’t want to spend all our time clearing stovepipes, but the occasional tap-rack-bang never hurt anybody at the range. Choose something from a reliable, well-known brand, and you’ll be just fine.
This is typically for something like NRL22, which involves using a .22 rifle to hit 3” targets at 100 yards. Not something you’d typically do with a .22 handgun unless maybe you’re Jerry Miculek.
For handguns, high-velocity match-grade ammo can be had for $.25-$.30/round because you really don’t need the consistency demanded by something like NRL22.
That said, if you’re qualifying for a major competition or there’s serious money on the line, maybe pony up for the good stuff, eh?
I know, I know, it wouldn’t be the first thing I would reach for either, but for certain shooters, it makes a lot of sense. My mother is in her 70s and has arthritis, and her hand strength wasn’t super great, to begin with. For her, racking the slide on even a small .380 or 9mm isn’t an option.
She can yank back the extended grab handle on Ruger Mark IV, though. And I personally agree with her that 10 rounds of high-test .22 are a lot more effective at stopping a human attacker than harsh language or appeals to their better nature.
There are also a host of backup/holdout/micro-carry .22 options out there, like NAA revolvers, the Lifecard, and other derringer-style guns that people carry regularly. If that’s the case, and you’ve only got a few shots of an already-underpowered cartridge, you definitely need them to be good ones.
In that case, I recommend getting the highest-velocity defense-focused ammo you can. Something leaving the barrel at 1400fps+, with a nice slick nickel-plated casing and a well-designed hollow point. The CCI Stingers we talked about earlier, or Federal Punch ammo are both good choices.
So check us out at Ammo.com if you want to buy the best 22 LR ammo from a trusted source.
Best 22 Pistol Ammo: Plinking, Hunting, Competition and More! originally appeared on Ammo.com
submitted by ammodotcom to 22lr [link] [comments]
Today we’re going to be focusing on the latter and taking a close look at the best .22 pistol ammo on the market today. We’ve done a lot of testing to find out what performs the best in the widest variety of .22 pistols we could get our hands on.
Our top overall pick is CCI Standard Velocity because it’s a great general-purpose option that can do it all.
We also have more specific options for plinking, small game hunting, competition, self-defense (yes, from other humans), suppressed shooting, and a bulk option for those who want to have enough ammo to outlast the end of days.
Top 3 Ammo Picks for .22 Pistol
- CCI Standard Velocity - Best Overall
- Federal AutoMatch - Best For Plinking
- Winchester Super-X - Small Game Hunting
Best .22 Pistol Ammo Overall Pick - CCI Standard Velocity
Specs
- Bullet Type: Lead Round Nose
- Bullet Weight: 40gr
- Muzzle Velocity: 1070fps
- Muzzle Energy: 323 ft-lbs
- Casing Type: Brass
Pros
- Affordable
- Feeds well in most pistols
- Cycles reliably in semi-autos and extracts easily in revolvers
- Available in bulk
Cons
- Not ideally suited for hunting or defense
- Soft lead projectile
Why We Chose It
Our top overall choice, CCI Standard Velocity, worked the best in the most semi-auto .22s we tested it in, it’s very affordable, and you can get it anywhere that sells ammo.Seriously, this was some of the most reliable ammo of the lot, and while it is a touch more expensive than some of our budget and bulk favorites, I think the greater reliability is worth the tradeoffs.
It was very consistent in terms of velocity, and we had a great time lining up some targets at the range and rapid-firing entire mags into the A-zone of a USPSA silhouette from 10 yards. The high initial velocity also keeps the projectile relatively stable in the air at longer ranges, for what that’s worth when you’re shooting .22 LR out of a pistol anyway.
It’s also fairly affordable at around $.12/round, which is on the higher side for .22, but nothing like what you’d pay for match ammo or anything truly high-performance. All in all, this is a great general-purpose option.
Honorable Mention: Federal Champion Value Pack. This is another great option that’s a little cheaper but still runs like a champ (it’s in the name, after all). Great performer with a standard 36gr lead round nose projectile.
Best .22 Ammo for Pistol Plinking - Federal AutoMatch
Specs
- Bullet Type: Lead Round Nose
- Bullet Weight: 40gr
- Muzzle Velocity: 1145fps
- Muzzle Energy: 128 ft-lbs
- Casing Type: Brass
Pros
- Affordable
- Available in bulk
- Cycles and feeds reliably in most semi-autos
- Reliable primers
Cons
- Soft lead projectile
- Underpowered (may not cycle stiffer semi-autos reliably)
- Not great for hunting
Why We Chose It
Federal AutoMatch is another solid performer that works in a variety of semi-autos. It cycles reliably, and the primers go bang when you ask them to, which is honestly high marks for such cheap rimfire ammo.We’ve all been stuck using our fingernails to pry an unfired .22 out of a chamber because the primer just refuses to do its job, which isn’t a huge deal when you’re out plinking, but it does definitely put a damper on your day.
Especially if you have to stop halfway through a mag multiple times to fix a malfunction that’s pretty clearly because of an ammo defect. With Federal’s AutoMatch, semi-auto pistol shooters will have fewer issues and much better performance, even compared to more expensive bulk pack options.
Honorable Mention: Remington Thunderbolt 22 LR ammunition is another reliable lead-nose round at a solid price.
Best .22 Pistol Small Game Hunting Ammo - Winchester Super-X
Specs
- Bullet Type: Winchester Power Point CPHP
- Bullet Weight: 40gr
- Muzzle Velocity: 1435fps
- Muzzle Energy: 183 ft-lbs
- Casing Type: Brass
Pros
- Excellent Small-Game Hollow Point
- The copper-plated projectile is harder and more consistent than soft lead
- Reasonably priced for hunting-grade ammo
- The 40-grain bullet is about the maximum you’ll get with supersonic 22lr ammunition
Cons
- More expensive than more basic copper-plated hollow points
Why We Chose It
Winchester Super-X is a much-beloved line of hunting ammo that spans a variety of calibers, so we had high hopes for the .22 version. Thankfully, we weren’t disappointed. It fed and cycled reliably, and I’ve personally used it to hunt small game and pest animals with great reliability.It has a fairly high velocity for a .22 LR, especially at this kind of price point, and the copper wash on the hollow point is layered deep enough that it actually makes a difference in how the bullet performs vs. a standard lead projectile with a hollow nose. Sometimes, that’s not the case.
Not all copper-plated .22 ammo is made equally, and that matters when we’re looking for .22 pistol ammo in particular because a softer lead projectile, or even a low-quality copper-plated projectile, can deform when feeding.
This can cause a jam that can really ruin your hunt if it happens when you need that key follow-up shot. For that reason, a well-made projectile is key here, and the Super-X Power Points have been very reliable on that front.
Honorable Mention: CCI Mini-Mag is another great hunting choice and the option of choice for A&E’s Swamp People, so if you want something that’s proven to work on at least gator-sized game (with proper shot placement), this is a solid pick.
Best .22 Ammo for Pistol Competition - CCI Pistol Match
Specs
- Bullet Type: Lead round nose
- Bullet Weight: 40gr
- Muzzle Velocity: 1070 fps
- Muzzle Energy: 102 ft-lbs
- Casing Type: Brass
Pros
- Match-grade rimfire performance
- Some of the cheapest competition-grade rimfire ammo
- Very consistent velocity
- Incredibly reliable primers
- Hardened lead projectile (antimony alloy)
Cons
- Still expensive
- Lead round nose bullet is still softer than a copper-washed projectile
Why We Chose It
CCI Pistol Match is one of the go-to options for target competitors around the world. This is the official ammo of a few major national and international .22 pistol and rifle competitions, so we had high hopes for it out of the gate. Thankfully, it didn’t disappoint.Velocities are very consistent, primers are reliable, and groups are as tight as you can expect from a standard .22 pistol. If you’re going to the Olympics or there’s serious money on the line, there are some other more expensive options out there (Lapua Center-X, etc.), but for us average folks just shooting some steel challenge or what have you, this is a great option.
Honorable Mention: Federal Target Grade. Consistent velocity, good primers, and harder-than-average lead round-nose projectiles. It’s also very affordable for a match(ish) grade .22 round.
Best .22 Pistol Ammo for Self-Defense - CCI Stinger
Specs
- Bullet Type: Copper-Plated Hollow Points
- Bullet Weight: 32gr
- Muzzle Velocity: 1640 fps
- Muzzle Energy: 191 ft-lbs
- Casing Type: Nickel-Plated Brass
Pros
- Some of the highest-velocity commercially available .22 ammo on the market
- Copper-plated hollow points feed reliably and maintain integrity better than lead
- Extremely high velocity for .22 LR ammo (approaching .22 Magnum speeds)
- Also very capable when hunting small game or varmints
Cons
- 32gr projectile instead of the more common 40gr for .22 defensive rounds
- It’s still a .22 (not the ammo’s fault, just don’t expect centerfire performance here)
Why We Chose It
You may not think of a rimfire pistol as your first option when it comes to self-defense, and in the interests of full disclosure, it’s not my first choice either.That said, for folks with less than stellar hand strength, very inexperienced shooters, or for those who carry a pint-sized backup concealed carry like an NAA revolver or Lifecard, then a hyper-velocity .22 is a great option, especially if you’re carrying CCI Stingers.
No .22, not even .22 WMR, is going to be able to compete with even the lowest end of defensive centerfire rounds like .380 ACP. However, with CCI Stingers, you’ve got just about the most velocity you can get out of the cartridge, coupled with nickel-plated cases that feed and extract more reliably than brass cases.
The other problem is that you have a 5-inch barrel or less on most .22 pistols, so the ammo you choose has to be very high-velocity. It doesn’t get much higher than these.
Lastly, the high-quality copper-plated hollow point bullets reduce lead fouling, feed more reliably, and have a better chance of penetrating bone than a soft-lead bullet. In soft tissue, that hollow nose helps the round expand so you get the most out of the admittedly diminutive diameter of the round.
Overall, if it weren’t for the cost, these would have been our overall pick just based on performance and the fact that they’re accurate enough for target shooting and hit hard enough for self-defense, home defense, or hunting too.
Honorable Mention: Eley High Velocity is another hollow point that has enough speed behind it to be a decent defensive candidate in a pinch. Eley’s rimfire ammunition, in general, is very high quality and a great option overall.
Best Suppressed .22 Pistol Ammo - Winchester Super Suppressed
Specs
- Bullet Type: Black Copper Coated Lead Round Nose
- Bullet Weight: 45gr
- Muzzle Velocity: 1090 fps
- Muzzle Energy: 119 ft-lbs
- Casing Type: Brass
Pros
- Very heavy projectile
- Subsonic out of both pistols and rifles
- Very low muzzle flash
- Plated lead projectile for reduced fouling and better feeding
Cons
- May not cycle some guns
- Expensive
Why We Chose It
Winchester Super Suppressed is a great option for anyone looking to quiet down their .22 pistol.Suppressing a .22 is a great idea in general, but having the right ammo makes all the difference.
The lightweight, relatively slow bullet makes it a great choice for suppressing, the low pressure means .22 suppressors are dirt cheap compared to something like a centerfire rifle caliber suppressor, and you have a variety of different types of ammo available based on what you’re looking to do.
Winchester Super Suppressed is one of the best-performing subsonic .22s we’ve tested, and I can personally confirm that it fed and cycled reliably in my M&P 22, Browning Buckmark, Walther P22, and Ruger 10/22.
The plated 45gr projectile leaves less fouling, which is great when dealing with traditionally dirty .22 semi-autos, which get even dirtier once you add a suppressor into the mix.
Honorable Mention:
Best Bulk .22 Pistol Ammo - Winchester Target & Small Game
Specs
- Bullet Type: Copper-Plated Hollow Points
- Bullet Weight: 36gr
- Muzzle Velocity: 1280 fps
- Muzzle Energy: 131 ft-lbs
- Casing Type: Brass
Pros
- Very affordable
- Consistent primers
- Copper-plated projectile
Cons
- Inconsistent velocity
- A little slow for dedicated hunting use
Why We Chose It
Winchester Target & Small Game, also informally known as Winchester White Box, is a perennial favorite among shooters who like to shoot a lot (or at least be prepared to). It’s one of the most affordable options out there, is frequently available in bulk packs and cases of thousands of rounds, and actually works even in cantankerous semi-auto pistols.It’s a great multi-purpose option that works well for both of its stated purposes. As a target round, it goes more or less where you tell it to, and it goes bang when you want it to, which is all most of us plinkers really need. For more serious target shooting, there are better options, but this is a great training choice.
As a hunting round, there are better choices as well, but I’ve still hunted countless small game animals with this stuff, and so have others. It’s a solid performer vs. snakes, squirrels, and other varmints.
Lastly, it’s cheap. If you’re looking to shoot all day, want enough ammo on hand to ride out a shortage (or the apocalypse), or you’re just looking to get some training in on a tight budget, this is the choice for you.
Honorable Mentions: Aguila Super Extra is another affordable 22LR ammo option that you can get in massive quantities without breaking the bank. It’s a solid performer and one that I was pleased to find cycled well in all of our semi-automatics.
Blazer 22: Yet another affordable option for those looking to “buy it cheap and stack it deep.” I tend to pick up a brick whenever I have a new .22 to test out, and it’s my go-to for those days when I’m teaching new shooters as well.
You can also check out our full list of the best bulk .22 ammo options for more ideas.
This close look at all the best .22 ammo options out there should give you all the info you need to find the right ammo for your gun and specific shooting circumstances, but if you’d like a little more info on .22 pistol ammo in general, you’ll find that below.
.22 LR Ammo Buying Guide & Additional Info
When you’re choosing any ammo, there are a number of considerations to keep in mind. We’re going to take a look at some of the specific things to be aware of when choosing .22 pistol ammo and answer a few frequently asked questions we see a lot.Choosing .22 Pistol Ammo for Various Uses
First, let’s discuss the most common uses for a .22 pistol and how to choose the right ammo for each.Choosing .22 Ammo for Hunting
When choosing hunting ammo, the most important consideration is the ability to secure a clean, ethical kill with a single bullet. Now, you can technically kill anything that walks the earth with a .22, but…obviously, there are practical limits.The reality is a .22 is only ever going to be an effective hunting tool for very small game and pest species. Think rabbits, squirrels, snakes, and the like.
For this type of hunting/pest control, you can probably get by with standard lead round nose (LRN) projectiles, but really you’ll want a copper-plated hollow point of at least 32gr and moving over 1200fps if at all possible.
This will give you the energy to deal with small game animals and pests reliably and will reliably cycle something like a temperamental semi-auto as well.
Choosing .22 Ammo for Plinking
For plinking, probably the most common use for a .22 pistol, the chief criteria is typically going to be the cost per round. Fortunately, bulk .22LR is probably the cheapest ammo on the planet, with some of the more budget-minded options coming in around $.08/round these days.This makes it a great option for training as well, and is why you can get a .22 LR equivalent of most popular firearms, including AR-15s, Glocks, precision bolt actions, and more. This allows for some very affordable training with a very similar platform.
Is this type of ammo always super reliable? Unfortunately not, but for just blasting holes in old soda cans or exploding clay pigeons, that doesn’t matter so much. On the training side of things, you could even look at a dud primer or failure to extract as a feature instead of a bug.
After all, it forces you to practice your malfunction clears. Of course, we don’t want to spend all our time clearing stovepipes, but the occasional tap-rack-bang never hurt anybody at the range. Choose something from a reliable, well-known brand, and you’ll be just fine.
Choosing .22 Ammo for Target Shooting/Competition
For serious target shooting or competition, we need to step things up a little bit, and the bulk pack plinking ammo may not quite get the job done anymore. The sky is the limit here, and you can start getting ammo that costs $.40/round or more.This is typically for something like NRL22, which involves using a .22 rifle to hit 3” targets at 100 yards. Not something you’d typically do with a .22 handgun unless maybe you’re Jerry Miculek.
For handguns, high-velocity match-grade ammo can be had for $.25-$.30/round because you really don’t need the consistency demanded by something like NRL22.
That said, if you’re qualifying for a major competition or there’s serious money on the line, maybe pony up for the good stuff, eh?
Choosing .22 Ammo for Defense
Lastly, and most contentiously, we have .22 pistol ammo for self and home defense.I know, I know, it wouldn’t be the first thing I would reach for either, but for certain shooters, it makes a lot of sense. My mother is in her 70s and has arthritis, and her hand strength wasn’t super great, to begin with. For her, racking the slide on even a small .380 or 9mm isn’t an option.
She can yank back the extended grab handle on Ruger Mark IV, though. And I personally agree with her that 10 rounds of high-test .22 are a lot more effective at stopping a human attacker than harsh language or appeals to their better nature.
There are also a host of backup/holdout/micro-carry .22 options out there, like NAA revolvers, the Lifecard, and other derringer-style guns that people carry regularly. If that’s the case, and you’ve only got a few shots of an already-underpowered cartridge, you definitely need them to be good ones.
In that case, I recommend getting the highest-velocity defense-focused ammo you can. Something leaving the barrel at 1400fps+, with a nice slick nickel-plated casing and a well-designed hollow point. The CCI Stingers we talked about earlier, or Federal Punch ammo are both good choices.
Frequently Asked Questions
Below you’ll find some of the most commonly asked questions regarding .22 pistol ammo.What grain is best for 22 LR?
The grain best for 22 LR is 36-40gr. They offer a good mix of mass and velocity and will feed well in most semi-autos, including a .22 pistol.What is the best 22 pistol for self-defense?
The best 22 pistol for self-defense is the Walther P22 Q because it offers immense reliability, great shooting characteristics, the ability to add a light, and is incredibly accurate.What is the best 22 LR pistol for target shooting?
The best 22 LR pistol for target shooting is the Ruger Mark IV and Browning Buckmark. They are both classic Luger-style .22s that have seen great success in the production target shooting world, especially when paired with the best .22 pistol ammo.Parting Shots
Having the best .22 pistol ammo possible can make all the difference at the range, on the competition field, or on the hunt. These wonderful little workhorses might be some of the most versatile firearms on the planet, but they can also be temperamental.So check us out at Ammo.com if you want to buy the best 22 LR ammo from a trusted source.
Best 22 Pistol Ammo: Plinking, Hunting, Competition and More! originally appeared on Ammo.com
2023.06.10 01:37 DabbyBear [WTS][MA] ASG USW-A1 + mags, APS CAM870 AOW + shells, KC-02 parts, Wii tech Mp9 x2 bundle, 3x Scorpion Evo 3 2020, AKs, UBG local items
Timestamp - 06/09/2023 - ASG USW-A1 Please message me if there is not enough gap between links and you cannot click different timestamps!
Album - 06/09/2023 - Vortex gear
Posts take me ~ one hour to organize, so please tell me if the formatting is fucked!
Album - 06/09/2023 - APS MK1 CAM870 AOW
Album - 06/09/2023 - Stocks for KC-02 (two PMACA)
Timestamp - 05/22/2023 - HSP, Spiritus, Mission Spec gear
Please look at my posts across other markets - I typically mark things as sold, but feel free to ask (about stuff in other posts). I have plenty of flair, but I always use timestamps regardless.
Pushed for swap meets at Ultimate Battlegrounds in Bridgewater, MA and its been finally happening! If you can match value to value, I may be willing to trade as well - lower flair sends item first (or local).
Prices have shifted down since my last post - and I am willing to do BOGO50% off OR buy two, get one free - it will be more for bundles including larger items (don't ask for three mags to get one free).
**PLS READ THIS** \- If you cannot listen to instructions, there's a chance I will not do a sale with you.
ASG USWA1 w/ 8 CO2 mags - Timestamp - 06/09/2023 - ASG USWA1 - (same album as above)
Plate carrier + Mask Imgur album - https://imgur.com/a/unw0KiX)
Condor LCS Vanquish Armor System - worth around $220-230, selling for $180 shipped/$170 local Gear that I used as back-up that hasn't seen use in a while. Great for someone jumping in who also wants to carry water or has a hpa tank.
**Not splitting at this time. Not the mags. Not the adapter.**
If you're building a mp9 from scratch and you're trying to get all of the upgrade parts, you're going to end up spending more than what I am offering here.
Other GBBs - old album https://imgur.com/a/Pbzn0qR
ASG Scorpion Evo smg - https://imgur.com/a/PKsSFJD with sold spicy scorpion
Local items - old timestamps
AKs & King Arms PDW Shorty https://imgur.com/a/eSniMhz
Items that I will accept for trading purposes but remember - CASH IS KING
Accessories:
* G-series/AAP-01 mags (boneyard or working)
submitted by DabbyBear to airsoftmarket [link] [comments]
Album - 06/09/2023 - Vortex gear
Posts take me ~ one hour to organize, so please tell me if the formatting is fucked!
Album - 06/09/2023 - APS MK1 CAM870 AOW
Album - 06/09/2023 - Stocks for KC-02 (two PMACA)
Timestamp - 05/22/2023 - HSP, Spiritus, Mission Spec gear
Please look at my posts across other markets - I typically mark things as sold, but feel free to ask (about stuff in other posts). I have plenty of flair, but I always use timestamps regardless.
Pushed for swap meets at Ultimate Battlegrounds in Bridgewater, MA and its been finally happening! If you can match value to value, I may be willing to trade as well - lower flair sends item first (or local).
Prices have shifted down since my last post - and I am willing to do BOGO50% off OR buy two, get one free - it will be more for bundles including larger items (don't ask for three mags to get one free).
**PLS READ THIS** \- If you cannot listen to instructions, there's a chance I will not do a sale with you.
- MESSAGE MY INBOX.
- GO TO NOTICATIONS MESSAGES.
- COMMENT ON THE POST AS WELL SO I KNOW YOU ARE NOT BANNED
- TYVM
- Shipping info below We can discuss shipping based on bundling - shipping will depend on weight/size, but it likely will be $15 or less. CONUS only.
ASG USWA1 w/ 8 CO2 mags - Timestamp - 06/09/2023 - ASG USWA1 - (same album as above)
- Got in a trade and is super dependable. Two mags have the CO2 cartridge stuck, so I'll work to get that fixed. I believe at least one of the mags has an issue (according to the previous owner) but I haven't come across it yet.
- $400 shipped for everything or best offer - this bundle could count as one item for a BOGO deal
- Retail pricing is - $215 for replica, $30/mag , $55 for strike systems holster - $510
- Micro 3x + SPARC AR - $300 & $150 (new) online
- Barely used - $325 together or $250 & $125 if purchased separate
- Got this on reddit but never got to field it. I have waited over a year for an hpa tank that goes to 1000 psi and have yet to receive it. This isn't an easy find so it'll have to be a decent offer.
- Includes: Mk3 firing pin (gold TIN color, well used), New steel magazine guides/forks, New TIN magazine collar (gold color) , +1 magazine extension, Extended magazine spring (real steel 870 spring clipped to proper size) , Original magazine cap , Threaded barrel with choke , Shell catcher ,Assorted caps/wads , some original broken parts.
- Shell stuff - 22 shells APS smart shells + 12 empty hulls + 4 S&T Stainless steel endcaps. One (extra) used tester shell potentially seal leak...
- I am not splitting off the shells... they are ~$12 each on evike
- Can include items to make the paper wads - paper punch + card-stock
- Madbull CO2 adapter / filler set-up with Ninja remote line (recommended to use HPA instead)
- Shell maintenance/o-ring kits
- 2x PMACA mfg stocks
- Long nose Chassis - Blue Anodize
- Barely modified the stock to fit kc-02 (kc-02 received the grinding instead)
- Rear tang doesn't match up perfectly.
- $163 + shipping on their website
- Lightweight Chassis - Mad Purple cerakote - not installable with a rear tang - new
- $170 + shipping on their website
- Shorty stock - modification will be required on the KC-02 or the stock to get it working. Ability to get an adapter so you can run a buffer tube with a retractable stock
- Can't remember where I bought it or the brand, but definitely solid (Ebay maybe?) ~$100 retail
- Feel free to make an offer on any of these - will sell for less than retail (of course)
Plate carrier + Mask Imgur album - https://imgur.com/a/unw0KiX)
Condor LCS Vanquish Armor System - worth around $220-230, selling for $180 shipped/$170 local Gear that I used as back-up that hasn't seen use in a while. Great for someone jumping in who also wants to carry water or has a hpa tank.
- Comes with cummerbund
- Recon Magazine Bundle
- Blank molle panel
- Three AR mag panel
- Multicam black micro assault pack
- Tinted and orange tint replacement lens included
- Haley Strategic Partners D3CRM in black - $150 shipped
- Shellback Tactical Flapsack 2.0 unused ($30 on evike)
- In stock on HSP's website for $175 + shipping
- Bought new from HSP over a year ago. Lightly used. Velcro is in great condition.
- Pretty sure I have the backstrap
- Haley Strategic Partners D3CRX in Multicam Black - $220 shipped
- Old Imgur album - Dangler shown in this album not included.
- Comes with three of the four HSP M4 inserts.
- Bought lightly used on reddit. Still lightly used.
- Includes: multicam black X straps, backstrap, and D3CR Backpad ($30 new) for more comfort
- Not available on HSP's website. Other colors are $200 (with no inserts)
- Mission Spec "Wing It" (Small) Ranger Green - $70 + shipping
- Rig extension set-up. Buckles switch to the end of the wings to extend your rig mount capacity.
- For me its similar to the Spiritus Systems "The Thing 2" - Not the best fit for those who are extra skinny (with a backpack) unless you have a bulky set up for the winter.
- Bought from Mission Spec directly for $90 + shipping - took over 3 months to receive
- "The Thing 2" - rig extension set up - $60 + shipping (unless with other stuff)
- Similar to Wing It but much more rigid - Not the best fit for those who are extra skinny (with a backpack) unless you have a bulky set up for the winter.
- Fielded maybe once and realized I prefer flatpack + rig as my go-to set-up
- Currently out of stock but on spiritus website for $75 + shipping - https://www.spiritussystems.com/the-thing-2/
- Spiritus Systems MK4 in multicam black - $65 + shipping (no straps) - NEW in bag
- - On Spiritus's website - $75.95 + shipping (also w/o straps)
- Rig accessories
- MP5 / subgun quad magazine insert - used once - $20 addon
- 1x double pistol mag inserts - new - $10 addon
- Viper gun sling - unused - $15 addon
**Not splitting at this time. Not the mags. Not the adapter.**
If you're building a mp9 from scratch and you're trying to get all of the upgrade parts, you're going to end up spending more than what I am offering here.
- ALMOST every wii-tech part that exists for the mp9. I got the inneouter barrel now.
- CNC 7075-T6 Loading Nozzle Chassis (installed)
- CNC Hardened Steel Buffer set
- CNC Hardened Steel Hammer part No. 26,48,49
- Loading Nozzle Recoil Springs and Butt-pad Spring
- CNC 7075-T6 Aluminium Top Gas Loading Nozzle set (installed)
- CNC Steel Enhanced Action Bar
- 60% Light Trigger Spring (installed+ spare)
- Loading Nozzle Chassis Piston gasket
- CNC Hardened Steel part No.34 , CNC Hardened Steel part No.151 , CNC Hardened Steel Disconnector
- CNC outer barrel, only works with wii tech inner (not included here - only $10 on their website)
- These parts above came out to: around $330 without shipping...
- Airsoft Artisan sliding stock - beautiful piece - $84 new from JKarmy (without shipping)
- T-N.T. APS-X Hop Up System Retrofit Kit for KSC-MP9 ( 275mm ) (Gold) - $133 JKARMY
- Tapp MP9 to mp5 hpa adapter - not crazy about tapp as I've gotten screwed by them but hey, it works. $140 from Tapp (cerakoted blue raspberry mag release)
- 3x short gg mags (1 leaks), 1 extended gg mag (leaks)
- 3D printed R&D parts (not made by me) - charging handle (installed) - $20
- Silencer I waited 3 months for from Evike https://www.evike.com/products/42435/)\--) $28 - may keep this
- Second mp9 has broken stock connection and stock is para-corded from previous owner.
- Has been taken apart to get other mp9 operational. CQB bolt carrier and regular bolt carrier Details:
- Shoots above my current field limit (1.7 J) (with .25g bbs and above) even with the lowest psi possible to actuate the bolt. I believe it has the CQB nozzle but may need the other cqb base (if there's a difference) from wiitech to bring fps down. Regardless I believe one of my reducers may work.
- Green gas mags with current long mag set up was 1.5J with .32g bbs (haven't tested in Summer weather)
- tapp mag may need a little work, as feeding through the tube is not perfect
- In parts alone, it is worth over $700, but please send me an offer. Will bring to swap meet on request. Will consider trades or negotiating!
- Additional pics with mags - mp9 mag album - https://imgur.com/a/7bZuZ54
Other GBBs - old album https://imgur.com/a/Pbzn0qR
- WE Galaxy silver - g-series - barely used , less than 500 rounds through it
- Cost $140 (Evike) $90 + shipping or trades
- Includes one g17 standard magazine and original box
- Fielded once or twice as a sidearm
ASG Scorpion Evo smg - https://imgur.com/a/PKsSFJD with sold spicy scorpion
- No paintjob - https://imgur.com/a/E4PHqf6
- Stock internals
- Stock selector
- Flashhideadapter stays + QD sling adapter near rails with me
- stays with me
- Original stock (I have an extra one for sale)
- Non-functional bolt catch/drop ):
- Upgraded spring guide
- CNC Evo trigger (silver)
- Scorpion Evo front/back sights included
- Trades if I must or best offer
- New ASG Scorpion Evo 3 Carbine 2020 - best offer local only - $450 on evike
- ASG Scorpion Evo 3 https://imgur.com/a/rH10AxD
- Came with deans, got in a trade as the original owner just didn't like the platform
- Fourth Scorpion Evo I have had, but I already have an upgraded carbine
- I'll include mags as long as I have some left with a final scorpion (or if all of them are sold)
- Magpul Zhukov stock with CNC adapter
- HBI rails
- Three prong flash hider
- IsleWorks CNC Al selector switch (tail left side, nub right side) (no longer manufactured)
- CNC Evo trigger
- Dremel work done to AEG side to reduce damaging Zhukov stock adapter. Still not totally flush which could be done with a touch more filing, but I am happy with where it is.
- SHS 13:1 gears & shimmed
- Leviathan mosfet installed
- Upgraded spring guide
- Can't remember spring strength but probably ASG m110
- Wire adapter to connect PEQ battery easy on rails
- This is a gun I am really proud to have built and properly shimmed. Plans are to eventually get a new motor (not that the stock motor has any issues. Preference is to not sell this, but taking offers. To give you an idea - it's ~$1000 in parts.
Local items - old timestamps
AKs & King Arms PDW Shorty https://imgur.com/a/eSniMhz
- King Arms PDW Long - $215 on evike, $180 local
- Got it in a trade. New with the original box and still has the tag. It could have been fielded, but unsure. Local only.
- G&G Combat Machine M4 S-System - boneyard - free with the purchase of $300+ or you're someone who would appreciate working on a gearbox (LOCAL)
- Pictures https://imgur.com/a/A8Tj7vK
- JG/CYMA AK74u with Matrix LR300 stock, repro Zenitco lower rail assembly, repro metal foregrip (painted purple if you still want it, not shown) and scope rail that attaches to the left side of the AK.
- Bought off of hop-up App. Gun supposedly was worked on/upgraded by "Georgia Airsoft". Received it and was disappointed with the amount of rust - presumably from the humid environment in Georgia. Lost interest in it based on the sheer weight
- Worked last time I shot it though it had the notorious "jamming" by smashing semi... It's an easy swap to auto, shoot, and back to normal but still annoying.
- AK Imgur album
- Paid around $300 for it, will let it go for $120 local
- DYTAC / Sharps Bros. / SLR Rifleworks Licensed AK47 MB47 - lightly used - $200 local
- Got from Evike and never went fully IN on the AK platform.
- evike link - $295 (on sale)
- 9in MLOK handguard, original mag, and original box. Many additional mags available
- Changed out the selector for a black retro arms one, with a retro arms screw in red
- JG G-Spec VSR-10 ~~with modelworks body (body sold)~~ (boneyard) - local sale only-
$80 OBO
- Was sold to me as working, but immediately had firing issues that I believe has to do with the trigger box. When pulling back the bolt, the bolt will suddenly slam forward and fire.
- I'm content that I sold the modelworks stock so I'll give the VSR10 remnants for free (local) to anyone who buys ANYTHING else
- Magpul Hunter X-22 (10/22) stock - FDE
- Purchased with a built KC-02 (came with the KC-02 barrel I have above) and never really used it.
- I have over 5 different KC-02 / 10/22 stocks to swap between so I really need to let this go - and honestly I need to get some of the other ones on here.
- $130 new, so I'll let it go for $90 + shipping or $80 local
- Magazine bundles
- M4 mags - High/mid
- AK mags - High/mid
- (only for AK purchasers/until AKs are gone)
- Scorpion/AK/MP5 drum adapter
- G series 2x CO2 Mags (extended) - $50 for both with any purchase or $30 ea
- Use CO2 mags at your own risk. They have blown the back sites off of several pistols
- CO2 Mag (standard) - $20
- Use CO2 mags at your own risk. They have blown the back sites off of several pistols.
- Scopes, foregrips, rail covers, other parts
- V3 upgrade parts & some external retro arms AK parts
- VFC Avalon gearbox (complete/no motor)
- VFC Avalon gearbox shells x2
- Boneyard bin
- Batteries, not sure what state they are in
- RogueWorx Heavyweight bolt carrier & piston (#49) - Stainless Steel - $136$100 + shipping
- Limited release, likely never done with a V1 piston again as a V2 piston has been done).
- Less than 1000 shots.
- RogueWorx Aluminum bolt carrier V12 - raw $60$40
- Less than 1000 shots. Bought new as first bolt carrier.
- RogueWorx Aluminum bolt carrier Earlier than V12? - bronze splattered black - $60$35
- Came in used KC I purchased. Unknown usage.
- RogueWorx Sabre Mag Release lever - Gold $40$30
- Barely used.
- RogueWorx Sabre Mag Release lever - Black $40$30
- Came on used KC I purchased.
- RogueWorx Talon KC-02 Charging Handle - Gold $34$25
- Barely used.
- RWKF - CNC piston - Batch 5 - grey $41$30
- Less than 1000 shots. Bought new as first piston upgrade.
- Rogueworx - Apollo rocket valve (new) - $21$10
- Stock KC-02 parts - iyky - only naming some obvious ones
- 3x stock trigger sets (hammer, sear, trigger)
- 3+ stock bolt carrier + piston sets
- no cross pins for pistons available - I have longer dowels I can give to you that will have to be cut)
- 3+ Stock plastic feed nozzles - no rocket valve/spring included. These were salvaged for that purpose. Some have cross pins.
Items that I will accept for trading purposes but remember - CASH IS KING
Accessories:
* G-series/AAP-01 mags (boneyard or working)
- AAP-01 parts/upgrades
- KC-02 compatible stocks/body kits
- ASG Scorpion Evo 3 parts
- Suppressor(s)
- Dye i4 masks
- Thunder B grenades/parts
- Haley Strategic Flatpack(s)
- Polarstar system or redline
- Arrow Arms/other brand APCs
- Adorable PCCs that are not the ARP9 or that meh looking gun with a skull molded into the lower (sorry but yuck)
- VFC MCX or MPX - boneyard/HPA ready or AEG-working
- VFC Avalon Mp5 - boneyard\*\*\*
- VFC Avalon Mp5 - working\*\*\* or HPA
- VFC Avalon M4 variant - working, boneyard, or body shell
- Krytac M4 variation - pref working AEG. Meant for my fiancé so she can swap from HPA to AEG.
- Rogueworx KC-02 parts (purple preferred)
- Boneyard KC-02s
- ASG Scorpion Evo 3 (boneyard/working)
- AAP-01 - working or boneyard
- I'll trade guns for multiple AAP-01s
- G-series gbb (WE & TM only pls) + mags
- Preferably stock oor working
- Other gbb pistols that are NOT a 1911 or M9 variant
- H8r revolver
2023.06.09 21:00 Trash_Tia There’s been a secret ongoing war between the Starbucks stores in my city where employees are bloodthirsty for coffee— and they will do anything to get it.
Does anyone know how to get out of a Starbucks contract?
I just started my new job and I already want to quit. I REALLY want to quit. Because this shit isn’t normal. I mean, is it? Do you guys have experience with this type of shit, or is it a normal thing when moving to the city? I’m a small-town girl so I’m not used to this. We didn’t even have a Starbucks. Just a diner that had been broken into multiple times over the years.
Do you know the bad feeling you get when something bad is going to happen, but you ignore it for the sake of staying sane? .Yeah.
It was one of those situations.
But I needed cash. I needed a job. College in the city is expensive, especially in my mid-twenties. Uber Eats every night and various subscriptions, such as Netflix and Spotify—as well as basic living needs required cash. So, naturally, I looked for part-time jobs I could use to fill up my weekend and nights. When it came to job hunting, I was fairly lazy. So, the Starbucks job kinda came out of nowhere.
I wasn’t even looking for it. I was applying for a job in the local music store when it caught my eye. Someone to work late evenings and nights on weekdays and Saturdays. The job description didn’t say much, just basic pay details and a full paragraph dedicated to talking about “The Starbucks Family”. Skim reading it, I skipped to the APPLY NOW button and sent in my resume via email. Two hours.
It had taken two hours to get an email back offering a video interview the next day—and a guaranteed job if I didn’t screw it up. The video interview went well to my surprise. The woman who conducted it acted more like a friend, asking me what my favorite movies and TV shows were, and then going into detail about her own.
It didn’t even feel like an interview. More like a chat. Which was exactly what the email said it was going to be. The interviewer was my mom’s age, a total mom-like persona. She offered me iced tea before laughing and realizing we were on a video call. Her cat popped up halfway through her introducing several staff members by name. A large tabby whom she picked up and hugged to her chest. I wasn’t sure what to do except repeatedly say, “Aww.” and force an even bigger smile.
The woman who for some reason did not introduce herself finished the interview with a more formal and thorough talk-through of rules and regulations. Which went in one ear and out the other. I think I was too excited about the job as a whole. There’s something almost mythical about working at Starbucks. I’ve seen barista TikTok complaining about customer service and harping about in the back rooms. It looked fun. Plus, free drinks? I figured working at the famous coffee chain would at least have benefits and freebies.
The woman spoke to me for almost two hours about certain drinks, telling me I would be trained up, and then going on to explain the dos and don’ts in a working environment. It was kind of patronizing, but I figured she had to be to remain professional. I tuned out when she started talking about a certain “feud” they had with another store down the road. The woman didn’t go into detail, but her expression did darken significantly when she leaned closer to her screen and repeated the phrase, “Do you understand me?” I had to backtrack and try and go over what she had been saying, but I had found myself mesmerized by the gilded sword in the background. It hung from the back wall in all of its glory, and I was having a hard time trying to figure out why exactly a Starbucks manager had a sword hanging from her wall.
“Sim?” Inclining her head, the manager cleared her throat. “Did you hear me?”
I did. Sort of. Under no circumstances must I visit or go near 2nd Street Starbucks. If I did there would be dire consequences and I would face losing my job, or worse.
I wasn’t sure what “or worse” was, but from the way her expression twisted from funny-cat-lady to a potential employer, I didn’t want to ask.
Yikes.
“Uh, yeah,” I said. “I can’t go near the 2nd Street store.” I almost choked on a glass of water I had been slowly sipping throughout the interview. I had been sweating most of the day, dying in the intense June heat. It was a lot cooler in the evening in the city, but I was used to draining at least ten glasses a day. “Is that real?” I couldn’t help asking, pointing to the sword behind her.
I know you are supposed to maintain a certain professional persona and façade during professional work interviews with potential managers. However, I really wanted to know if that ancient thing was real, it was driving me crazy. Because questions were arising in my head: How did she get it? Was it hers? Was it for some kind of aesthetic and feng-shui, or was there more to it? From the look on the interviewer’s face, she seemed startled.
Whipping her head around, her strict grey ponytail hitting the screen, she nodded before turning back to me, her gaze flicking down to what I presumed was a script she was reading off—or maybe she was skimming through my printed-out resume. I wanted to ask her more about the elephant in the room, but she seemed satisfied with answering my question with a nod. She asked me more questions, mostly about my work ethic and if I enjoyed working in a team and independently, if I had any special requirements, and oddly—if I had ever held a firearm. Now, that caused alarm bells. Along with the gilded sword dangling from this forty-something-year-old’s lounge wall, I was definitely starting to question the exact nature of what I would be doing at this job. Serving coffee was an obvious one, though I was pretty sure Starbucks barista's didn’t require military-style training.
When I didn’t know what to say, she seemed to back-pedal. “Oh, it’s in case of a robbery.” She said. But her expression stayed stoic. Speaking in the tone of being joking, but not being joking. “It is rare. However, it is a precaution we must take.” Choosing her words carefully, the interviewer steepled her hands in front of her face, leaning her chin on her fingers. “Our employees are given basic fire-arm training in the instance that one day we may face a difficult situation. Now, I am not saying it is inevitable, but due to certain behavior throughout the years, it is, of course, better to be safe than sorry.”
“Oh.” I tried to smile. “No, I haven’t,” I paused, hoping my lack of ability to hold a gun wouldn’t screw up my chances. “But I can learn?”
I said it like a question because it was a question. I was questioning myself why exactly I would take up my time learning to shoot a gun I most likely never would need. To my surprise though, the woman’s smile brightened and she looked down at whatever she was writing.
“Of course,” she said. “Sim, I am very happy to hear that. We love employees who do their best to learn and thrive in our working environment,” she paused and typed something on her laptop before her gaze found mine. “I’ll put you down for lessons on Friday mornings. How does that sound?” Before I could answer her—because I was starting to seriously question why she was so obsessed with training me to use a goddamn gun—she was nodding to herself. “I will put Jude in charge of you. I think he is working on Friday, so your induction and welcome can be completed in the morning…”
She trailed off into her own murmured conversation to herself before clearing her throat. I jumped. I didn’t mean to jump, but her whole presence was putting me on edge. The lady had been nicer on the phone, and earlier on in the interview when she was grilling me on which Frozen character was my favorite.
“Okay!” The interviewer gathered up her paperwork, beaming at me through the camera. “Can you start tomorrow? Let’s say…” her eyebrows furrowed together. “5:30? I will not be there for the first hour due to certain obligations,” she traced her lip with the tip of her index. “However, I have four employees working the front desk, I’m sure they will give you a warm welcome.” I noticed something twitch on her lips. It was almost like she was trying to stop herself from laughing—which was childish from a standpoint where I was the younger one, while she was the senior. She was supposed to be setting some kind of standard, and yet for some reason was more inclined in teasing me about workplace friendships, and apparently how “close” my colleagues were. I wasn’t stupid, I knew what friendship was like in the workplace. It’s not “real” because you’re all there to do a job, not making lifelong friendships.
“I’m looking forward to meeting them,” I said when she snorted out a laugh that twisted up my gut.
"Absolutely," she responded. "The team is very close, so don't take it personally if they're initially cautious. I'm confident that you'll all become great friends! Kai is a kind-hearted sweetheart, while Ana may seem standoffish initially, but she'll warm up to you once you get to know her. Jude, on the other hand, will be your guide during the orientation, so it's best to stay close to him. In fact, it's recommended to shadow him during your first few hours since he's our top performer! Frankly, Sim, I can hardly wait for you to meet them! They're a great group!" This woman seemed to suddenly discover the use of expletives, or maybe she had noticed I visibly wanted to crawl into the ground. The way she was describing the other employees, I was expecting cartoon characters when I walked through the door.
“Right,” I said. I was starting to regret applying. “I’ll be there.”
She ended the call with a bright smile, and her stupid cat walking on the keyboard, causing her to squeak out in horror. I shut my laptop, my cheeks burning. Well, that went…? Well? Could I really say it went well when the manager had spent the last five minutes implying my work colleagues were going to hate me? Fuck.
I didn’t want to go. I trashed my application and deleted her number from my phone. But the morning after, however, I came to the quick realization through precious morning caffeine, that I needed cash. So, no matter how much I didn’t want to go—I had to. So, I headed to classes and tried not to think about it. It was 5:34 when I stepped into the familiar glow of the famous store—not before being stopped in the middle of a crowed by a girl wearing bright pink ray-bans and a scowl. “Do you work there?” she turned and pointed to the store.
I shrugged. “I guess.”
She scoffed, slipping off her ray-bans and fixing me with a bitchy smile. “Your funeral.”
Normally, in situations when strangers say odd things to me on the street, I just laugh it off. But this? This seemed personal.
“What?”
The girl didn’t say anything before turning and walking or rather running away.
Well, that was weird.
After that encounter, I was weighing the positives and negatives of taking up the job. The positives would be cash and something to occupy my mind away from classes, and the negatives were being stuck with insufferable colleagues and a manager who was the embodiment of unprofessional. The store was pretty empty when I stepped through automatic doors, reveling in the cooling fan blasting icy cold air in my face. A dark-haired college girl had her back to me, cleaning tables. But I noticed her stiffening up when I took a step forward. She straightened up like a cat going into territorial mode, before relaxing and holding a two-fingered hand up.
The store was empty so I had no idea who she was signaling to. It wasn’t a greeting to me—I had no idea what it was. I was halfway to the counter before a guy popped up out of nowhere, mid-way through drying a cup with a washrag. His hair was the first thing I noticed. Bright red.
In contrast to his pasty skin, this guy would definitely stand out in a crowd. He was my age or maybe a little older, mid twenties, with a wide smile and not much of anything else, kitted in a short-sleeved shirt, and a Starbucks apron over the top.
I expected quirky cartoon-like weirdos and I got an average Joe. I wasn’t complaining.
Initially, I thought this guy was just another jock-like college guy. But looking closer, the friendliness in his eyes wasn’t sincere, and his smile was strained. Keeping up a professional attitude, he regarded me with a smile, leaning across the counter. But his eyes kept flicking to the door in quick succession like he was waiting for a certain someone to come in. “You.” He pointed at me, trailing his finger to the door, swiping hair from his face with his hand. The guy was bouncing on the heels of his toes, I noticed. He couldn’t stand still, like a hyperactive child. “You’re Sim, The newbie I’m supposed to be training.”
I nodded, offering a nervous wave.
“Jude.” He introduced himself, though clearly distracted, his gaze flicking to and from the door. His facade was friendly enough, but very fake. It was the same smile I presumed he flashed at customers who complimented his looks. “Hey, Sim.”
Instead of holding out his hand for me to shake, he folded his arms across his chest. Jude cocked his head, drinking me in before his lips broke out into a beam.
"Shall we get started?"
Jude started the tour, showing me the store itself, then the back, the storage room, the staff room, and bizarrely, a wooden door which he referred to as, “The Drink”. I had no idea what that meant, but I made a mental note to steer away from it.
The backrooms of the store turned into a labyrinth. The place was covered in mold, peeling paint on the doors and old rugged floor tiles. Jude spoke way too fast like he was intentionally trying to confuse me. By the time I was struggling with my apron, he was turning on his heels with a brow raised. “Your hair is too long so you need to tie it up. You can shadow me this evening but don’t get in my way. We have two twenty-minute breaks and during them, we are contractually obligated to go down to the Second Street store and throw eggs at their windows—ooh, and the girl you just met who didn’t say a word? That’s Ana. You will get used to her.” His smile reached a level of fake I didn’t think was possible. “Why don’t you follow me?”
“What?” I managed to hiss out when Jude was leading me down a long, winding corridor that dipped into various rooms, out-of-order elevators, and the creepiest set of stairs I had ever seen leading into the pitch dark. I was still trying to register his words.
Jude twisted around with a frown. “What’s up?” He nodded at a passing blonde girl who shot me a smile, and hive-fived Jude before disappearing through a door.
“You throw eggs at the store down the road?”
The guy’s lip twitched into the start of a smile. He turned around, quickening his pace. “Did I say that? Obviously, I was joking.”
I stumbled after him, knocking into a dark-haired younger guy carrying a tray of cupcakes. He and Jude seemed to exchange words without speaking before Jude gestured to the stranger. Somehow, I figured out their telepathic conversation through eye movements and strained smiles, they weren’t talking about me. “That’s Kai,” Jude said, pushing through the doors back to the main storefront. He took a customer’s order, retaining that stupid smile. “If you need any help with making those annoying TikTok drinks that take a millennia to make and have probably broken several Geneva convention rules?” He playfully knocked into me while preparing a drink, his hands knowing where everything was, preparing and serving a latte in a matter of minutes, “Kai is your guy! He runs our social media page and is practically a connoisseur on the next big trend. He'll deal with zoomers."
I was slowly starting to ease my way into this job, and my colleagues seemed pretty cool. Jude actually helped me all the way through the evening, introducing his home life and how he grew up as he cleaned tables and conversed with the others—always throwing me into their chatting so I didn’t get left out. I ended up sorting through cookies and making price labels with Aurora, the perky blonde who high-fived Jude earlier. She spoke to me like we had been best friends for years, and that part of her charm made me instantly adore her. She was tiny for her age, but a menace when it came to her sharp tongue and language. I didn’t think a tiny thing like her could swear like a goddamn sailor, but it was cute. Jude and Aurora had a sibling-type thing going on, though every time I caught Kai’s eye, he was smirking. It seemed everyone knew they had a thing except them.
I was actually having fun with the others, bobbing my head to the radio while serving a group of kids, when Jude, who was next to me, seemed to go rigid all of a sudden. His laughing smile carved into something else. I had never seen an expression change so fast.
But he wasn’t the only one. Aurora, cleaning tables and giggling at Jude’s joke, straightened up, her eyes flashing to the door. Kai’s head snapped up from where he had been grinding coffee. Following their gaze, I found myself face-to-face with the manager who interviewed me. But unlike the night before, she was not smiling. The woman dropped her bag at the door before marching towards the counter. Jude leaned over; his expression apprehensive.
“Well?”
His eyes as well as his tone had darkened significantly. All of my colleagues had taken off these masks, these facades of joking smiles and bright eyes, and now I was seeing a glimmer of what they were hiding. What Jude had been looking for all evening, sneaking glances at the door. I watched his gaze follow the manager as she paced back and forth, chewing her nails. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” She finally said, lifting her head. Her lips were twisted. “But.” She said, spitting each word, as she rounded the counter, helping herself to coffee. “You’re going to pay a visit to them right now, and…and sort this out once and for all.” Her voice resembled that of a mother talking to her children. She was assertive to them, her eyes piercing. Do you understand me?” The woman nodded at Jude. “You can go.” Her eyes found mine. “Take the new girl, she needs to be inducted.” Finally, she turned to Ana, who was standing in the corner silently. “You are too. I need brains, and Jude is just brawn. Keep him on his toes, young lady."
With a hint of sarcasm in his tone, Jude uttered a brief "Thanks," and then proceeded to take a coffee cup and a Sharpie. Swiftly, he scrawled some words on the side of the cup, before placing it inside a bag and plonking it in front of me. As Jude reached for his coat at the back, he put it on over his green Starbucks apron, creating a striking contrast with his denim blue sherpa. With his mop of red curls, this guy was in no way going to be as incognito as he thought. "We'll manage the conversation,” he said hurriedly, visibly excited. Jude seemed to lead the others in their expressions, his confidence and wit causing them to brighten up, adapting wide smiles. He shoved his hands in his pockets, “All you gotta do is hand them this, okay?”
“Is that a good…” Kai drifted off on whatever he was about to say, ducking his head when Jude shot him a glare.
“I think it’s a perfect idea!” The manager beamed at me. “What a way to fully bring you into our family!”
I took the coffee cup (the empty coffee cup) hesitantly. “What is it?”
“It’s a gift!” Jude said, moving towards the door in long strides. It was all too noticeable that this guy was practically vibrating with an energy I had never known. It was almost manic. “I want to let them know we appreciate them! Y’know! Rival to rival.”
Kai stepped in front of him on the way out.
“Be careful,” he said in a low hum. Aurora joined him, but she wasn’t speaking, her left-hand tugging at the waistband of her jeans. “Keep your head down when you go in because they’ll be expecting you—and they’ll be expecting a retaliation.”
“Relaaaaax, it’s Cora! We used to date!” he cocked his head. "I think."
“I mean it. "
Jude’s gaze found mine for a moment before his smile grew. “Well, we have enough eggs don’t we?” He grabbed my arm, pulling me along. Ana was already gone. I could see her figure already slinking down the street, bleeding into the shadow.
When the two of us hit the cool night air and Jude quickened his pace into a power-walk, his eyes set forwards, jaw set, I figured I should ask what his deal was. If this guy was serious about vandalizing a rival Starbucks, and not just that, urged by his manager, then I had to say something.
The thought of ending up in jail being petty over a rival store made me feel nauseous.
“So, what is this about?” I asked, catapulting myself into a half-run to keep up with him. The guy had abnormally long legs, so he was halfway across the sidewalk while I was barely two steps in front. “Aren’t you taking this a little too seriously?”
Jude didn’t reply, instead remarking on the sky being filled with stars.
“Hey, Ana!” He shouted. “Wait up!”
Second Street Starbucks was like walking into a palace. I could tell why these guys were rivals. The place was a three-floored beast, a glass building made up of a Starbucks downstairs, a library, and a private apartment. I found myself mesmerized by the twinkling lights on the door, the mini water fountain through large windows showing an even bigger storefront with rich-looking wooden tables and reclining chairs. The store was closing. When we stepped in front of the door, there was a sign which clearly said CLOSED on the front.
Still, though, Ana pushed her way through it, followed by Jude, pulling me along with him. Two employees were working, a guy with short blondish hair mopping the floors, and a girl standing at the counter, going through the register. The moment we stepped inside, the guy cleaning up stopped mopping from side to side, his fingers visibly tightening around the mop handle. “Hey there!”
With one of his best fake smiles, Jude raised his arms in surrender. “We’re from the Starbucks down the road. We come in peace, don’t worry!” He gestured to me.
“Can we talk to your manager?”
He took a step, his lip twitching, eyes glinting, which caused a stir in the air. The girl at the counter stopped flicking through a wad of cash in her hand and delicately put it down, and the guy turned to face us with wary eyes.
As Jude took another stride forward, his movements resembled a dance, and I noticed he was having fun teasing them. His eyes sparkled with a childlike glee that was unexpected for a person in his twenties. "Would you like to try our latest coffee recipe? It's like sipping on liquid sunshine." He nonchalantly brushed his jeans, and I half-expected him to pull out an egg. “But…” Jude took another step, and Ana situated herself behind the blonde boy, her expression blank. “You’ve already tasted it, haven’t you?”
The girl behind the counter finally stopped counting cash, delicately placing a wad back inside the register before leaning forward, an amused smirk curving on her lips. “Jude.” Her voice was a low murmur. “I didn’t think I would see you here so soon.”
“Cora.” Jude’s lips quirked. “Trust me, I don’t want to be. But hey, it's the boss's orders.”
She inclined her head, her eyes drinking all of him in. The girl rested her fist on her chin. She was surveying him like a piece of meat. “And you obey her?”
His grin widened, and I saw his hand once again brush the front of his apron. “Like a dog.”
“You know her?” I hissed out, grasping hold of the coffee cup in my hand.
“Cora?” Jude turned to me. “Oh yeah, we used to be the Romeo and Juliet of coffee shop rivalry — back when we were both newbies, and our store kidnapped me as a last resort. To keep the peace, I stayed.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’m told, anyway.”
Starbucks lore was getting dark.
These guys had to be joking around.
I took a step back, eager to head towards the door and be as far away as possible from what I was pretty sure was going to be a lot of eggs, and several arrests. “You worked here?” I couldn’t believe my mouth was still moving and forming words as I took slow steps back. Before Jude caught my arm.
“Apparently.” He said, dragging me back by his side. “Why don’t you give ‘em’ their gift?”
Fuck.
Unwrapping the bag and pulling out the cup, I nodded and took slow strides toward the counter, placing it down in front of her.
Cora frowned, before picking it up, her gaze going to the side.
“Go fuck yourself 2nd street bloodsuckers.” She read out loud, her brow raising into her hairline.
Shit.
“I should probably go.” I managed to say, backing away. “I don’t think is the job for me—”
The latter half of my words exploded in my head when something slammed into my ears, a physical force sending me to my knees. Initially, I didn’t know what it was. It sounded like a nuclear bomb had gone off. When the ringing in my head subsided, I was aware I had my head buried in my knees, my hands clamped over my ears.
But when I tried to listen past the relentless shrill ringing in my skull, I heard them one after the other. Pop, pop, pop! Gunshots. The crack of each bullet ricocheted in my skull. It was a robbery, I thought dizzily. We were being robbed. No, Second Street was being robbed. When I lifted my head to try and find Jude and Ana to see if they were okay-- I expected them to be cowering like me, Jude, under the table, muffling yelling into his hand, and Ana, calmly pulling him to safety. But that wasn't what I saw. Instead, I must have been fucking imagining things. Jude had not moved from his spot-- and perfectly melded into his hand, was a gun. A gun he was holding like a pro, his hands wrapped around the butt, index teasing the trigger.
His trajectory was directly between Cora's eyes. Jude had not been the one who shot the gun. In fact, neither had Ana, who was still standing stiffly behind the blonde guy.
It was a girl behind the counter who had come out of nowhere wielding the type of gun I expected to see in movies. I noticed from his stance Jude had maybe stepped to the left and then the right to avoid being hit, but the way his demeanour was fully and completely relaxed sent shivers creeping down my spine. "The deal is off, Cora," he murmured. "You fuck with us, so we fuck with you." he lowered his gun slightly, his eyes darkening. "Where's Ren? He came here to sniff you out, so where is he?"
Cora seemed remarkably calm. She started to raise her hands, her lips forming the words, "I don't know what you're talking about" before she stopped, her body going limp. It took me a disorienting moment to realize Jude had taken the shot, followed by another, both landing right between her eyes. When Cora hit the ground, the whole world around me exploded.
I was dragged to the ground by Jude, as he dived across the floor, pressing himself into the back of a table, twisting around, and taking out the barista who almost shot me in the face. There were five of them, all of them good shooters. Too good. Ana easily took out a blonde and brunette with her own magnum, followed by a bald guy who crashed through the counter which collapsed under him.
Jude fell into a manic shoot-out with a guy who would not give up, and after several attempts, re-loading, and attempting to finish him from the ground, my colleague got tired and stood up, dropped his gun, and leaped across the counter. I didn't know what to watch. Ana, who was destroying their coffee machine, or Jude, who snapped the boy's neck with a single twist of his fingers, before ripping out his eyes. He hauled the dead guy over his knees, grazing his teeth across the pasty flesh of the boy's neck, his eyes flickering. I wouldn’t say they turned a different color, but there was something inhuman about them, a certain tint around his iris. "Urgh."
He shoved the corpse away, jumping up. "He reeks of it." Treading through broken glass and pooling red on the floor, my colleague grabbed a cup, downed it, and then spat it out. “That.” He sputtered. “Is the worst fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Ana stepped in front of him, handing the boy his gun. “When one of any clan is murdered for with no reason, there is an imbalance, and the coffee is tainted. We must restore the balance before this gets out of hand,” she surprised me by speaking, with a tinge of an Aussie accent. The girl side-eyed me before shooting Jude a knowing look. “Don’t let her get in our way.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” He mocked a salute before nodding to me. “All right! Sim, you grab a sample. We’ll go find the altar.”
Something ice-cold slipped down my spine.
“What?”
“Cool it. It’s more fun than it sounds,” was all Jude responded with. “Grab the samples.”
I was running on adrenaline, doing exactly what he said. I grabbed two coffee cups. “What do we do now? We go home, right?”
He swiped at his lips with a sound of disgust. “Are you kidding? No, man. We get coffee which ain’t tainted.”
Ana took out two guards in the back before leading us both through a heavy metal door that led into tunnels, tunnels, illuminated by candlelight. “You just killed multiple people,” I finally managed to choke out, following the two of them deeper into the dark. “Over coffee.” I couldn’t resist a nervous laugh that spluttered into a cry. “You just murdered seven baristas over fucking coffee!” I found myself backing away at points, scanning for a way out, an exit away from this fucking nightmare.
Jude turned to me, the glitter in his eyes reflected in the candlelight. “Oh, please,” His voice echoed down the tunnel in a chuckle. “Do you really think this is just about coffee?”
I didn't understand what he meant until we came to the end of the tunnel, which dipped into an alcove leading us into a large cave-like room. Drawing his gun, Jude scanned the dark. "Anyone in here?" He said, and Ana hit him. Silence answered, and I found myself paralyzed to the spot. I didn't know what to stare at first. The ten-foot-tall Starbucks Siren looming over us, illuminated in flickering orange candlelight, or the old swimming pool filled to the brim. When I took a step forward, my foot sunk into something soft, and I made the mistake of looking down. Bodies.
I guessed that was "The Drink".
I felt myself fall back, but Ana's warm arms were guiding me away from decomposing flesh which decapitated heads poisoned in a way that I could almost call ritualistic. There were bodies everywhere, all of them curled up or had died in a position of prayer. Jude crouched in front of a guy still in his Starbucks apron. His eyes had been cleanly plucked from his skull. Jude's expression was beautifully sombre in the candlelight. "Fuck, dude," he whispered.
"Looks like they got you."
“Which explains how they got their hands on our recipe.” Ana pulled out her gun and clicked off the safety. The girl’s eyes were suddenly sad, her lip wobbling. I had a hard time believing a girl who had taken out three baristas at point-blank range was crying.
"Through him."
“What is this place?” I whispered. "What the fuck are you doing in here?”
Jude straightened up. Ana moved behind him, and I noticed her hands holding her gun were trembling. She raised her arm, pointing it at the back of his head. Jude didn't retaliate, only sending me a sickly smile. "It used to be ours," he said. "Until other stores started opening, and it became a fucking free-for-all." Jude sighed, rocking back and forth on his heel. Ana's trigger finger followed his movements. "We have a peace treaty..." Jude trailed off. "Sorry. HAD a peace treaty." He nodded to his colleague. "Second Street has always been obsessed with this particular blend we have that other stores don't." His lips curved. "They're greedy, and thought they could fuck with us. First, they took our last manager. He was like a dad to us. Sliced him up and sent us his head." He gestured to his friend. "And then they took Ren. They brought this shit upon themselves."
As he spoke, Jude dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, bowing his head in front of the Siren. Ana didn't move. "Are you ready?"
“Always.”
I screamed, slamming my hand over my mouth when this time when Ana shot Jude point blank in the back of the head. When his body crumpled to the ground, something inside me snapped in two, and I couldn’t breathe suddenly. I thought the two were playing some kind of sick game before I caught unmistakable seeping black pooling across the alter.
In the blur of orange candlelight, it was almost a mesmerizing sight. “Shush!” Ana sent me an annoyed look, before gathering his body in her arm. “Make yourself useful and grab a bucket,” she said, stumbling towards the pool. I watched her, my heart diving into my throat. When I didn’t move, Ana hissed out and twisted around.
“Did you not hear me?!” she yelled. “Get a bucket and start collecting it!” The girl gestured towards a large, rusted pipe looming over the pool, a stream of murky brown water leaking into the pool. When I started forwards, the girl shook her head. “Not yet.” She said, before heaving Jude’s body and throwing him into the darkness. I heard the splash, but I didn’t even see his body hit the surface. Part of me wanted to demand what the fuck she was doing, but I did what I was told, with trembling hands, grabbing a bucket and shuffling over to the pool edge. Ana hissed out again. “I said not yet!” Before I could speak, she held a finger to her lips. “Do it now!”
“The pool water?!” I shrieked.
She raised a brow. “You think that’s water?”
Before I could coerce some kind of speech, I was interrupted by what felt like a sudden earthquake. The ground rumbled under our feet, and I hesitated before dropping the bucket into the water and scooping up as much as I could. I quickly realized it wasn’t water. It was thick with the constancy of blood, coffee brown and yet sticky and warm like blood.
Above us, the pipe seemed to come to life, a brand new stream of murky brown solution coming down in a waterfall. I didn’t think about the pieces of flesh floating on the surface, the decomposing heads I caught bobbing around, or the fact that I was dipping my hands in blood. Coffee and blood. My stomach was trying to projectile my lunch, but I swallowed it down. I took advantage, managing three buckets before Ana was grasping my shoulders and pulled me back. I didn’t realize I was sobbing until she was handing me a handkerchief, and I was staring at her and it, like, “What do you expect me to do with this?!”
Still in shock, I tried to get another bucket full before she dragged me from the pool edge. “You can stop now,” she said. “We have enough.”
"Enough what?!"
I staggered back when the surface of the pool rippled. I don’t know what I expected to come out.
Dead bodies?
Decapitated heads?
Not Jude, covered in the brown murky shit I had filled the buckets with. When he broke the surface, I almost threw one of the buckets at his head. Despite being covered in coffee and blood, his skin was oddly free of flaws. The guy was also really naked, which should have been a minor problem compared to what I was seeing, which was a real resurrection in front of a ten-foot statue of the Starbucks siren. Which was completely normal.
But I still found my cheeks heating up. Jude ran a hand through soaked curls sticking over his eyes, shaking them like a dog before pulling himself out. I couldn’t help noticing there was no gunshot wound. It was almost as if his body was completely new. I took in abnormally grey-looking skin, like dead flesh, before averting my gaze. “Did we do it?” He gasped out, immediately covering himself. Once out of the pool, he knelt on the ground, sucking in breaths of air before seemingly realizing the state of himself.
“Fuck. I didn’t think this through.”
“I did.” Ana reached into the backpack she had brought, pulling out a shirt and jeans, reverting her eyes, and throwing him the bundle. “Get dressed.” She said, But there was a slight smirk on her lips. “Yes. I think we managed to appease them.”
“Sweet!” Jude grinned, dressing quickly. He sucked the tips of his fingers. “Mmm.” He nodded at Ana. “That tastes a lot better.”
He gestured to her, and to my disgust, the girl delicately licked his fingers and nodded with her own smile. “It tastes like cherry blossom.”
His eyes fell on me, and I saw that inhuman gleam in his eye—that had been very much there before he was resurrected in a pool of coffee. His lip quirked. I could still see coffee-- or blood dripping in thick rivulets down his temples and cheek. “Should we?”
Jude turned to Ana. “I mean while we’re here, right? We can induct the newbie.”
Immediately, I knew what he was talking about. I stepped back, but he was following me, getting closer and closer until his breath was in my face, and I was teetering on the edge. I sensed something in his eyes, something I never expected from a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Envy. Another step, and I would be falling into what I was sure was a pool full of decomposing bodies and resurrecting coffee. “Not now,” Ana murmured, and Jude snapped out of it, taking a step back.
“Buzzkill.” He muttered.
But he did step away, allowing me to inch away from the pool.
“Later,” Ana said. “She’s shaken up. We can do it first thing tomorrow.”
To my surprise, there were no cops at the scene at Second Street. Because there was no scene.
The store was back to normal, and I didn’t have the energy to question why. When we returned, Aurora wrapped me into a hug I tried to get out of as quickly as possible, eager to get the fuck away from that place. But. I had to finish my shift. I had watched a man resurrected by coffee in a fucking Starbucks shrine, and yet somehow I had to keep making drinks until my shift ended. It was nearing closing time when the doors opened, and I found myself face-to-face with the girl from earlier. The one wearing the pink ray-bans.
She didn’t say anything, but the blade of her knife grazing my gut told me everything I needed to know. With a knowing look when she slipped off her raybans, she pressed something into my hand before leaving, and I handed it to the manager, who opened it up, almost died laughing, and then threw it in the trash.
“You work for psychopaths.” I managed to get out, sidling in front of Jude while he was clocking out.
“Also, didn’t you… didn’t you fucking die?”
Jude didn’t look up from his phone. “It’s complicated.” His lip quirked. “You’ll find out tomorrow during your induction.”
“But… you work for these people!” I lowered my voice. “And you’re not trying to get away?” I gestured to Kai and Aurora standing by the door, the two of them locked in conversation. “None of you?”
Jude frowned, and I caught the first hint of annoyance. I had only seen this guy smiling, so seeing him scowling was quite the change. “I’m sorry, do you… do you think I have a choice?”
He surprised me with a laugh. “Me? A choice? You really think I wake up every morning and WANT to do this shit?” He got close, his breath in my ear. “You came here willingly. I didn’t. In fact? I don’t even remember coming here. My interview, my first day? Nothing. I don’t even remember my time at Second Street.” He threw a towel at me before I could coerce words. “Finish clearing up, all right? I’ll see you tomorrow for induction.”
There was something cruel in his smile like he was waiting for whatever my induction had in store for me.
I couldn’t help myself. When everyone was gone, and I was tasked with locking up, I picked the discarded note out of the trash, smoothing it down.
“You pieces of shit just declared war. Sleep with one eye open! 😊”
Cora xx.”
….
I cut my finger with a knife this morning. When I sucked it and grabbed a band-aid, I tasted coffee. I went home and threw up coffee.
I am peeing coffee.
I showered 8 times and I still fucking smell of coffee.
I don’t think I’m going to go to work tomorrow.
Edit: There’s been a break-in— and the manager wants me to come in early. Jude and Ana woke me up in the middle of the night to go over tactics. We are taking down Second Street during closing time.
I guess I am going to work tomorrow.
Does anyone know how to use a gun?
submitted by Trash_Tia to nosleep [link] [comments]
I just started my new job and I already want to quit. I REALLY want to quit. Because this shit isn’t normal. I mean, is it? Do you guys have experience with this type of shit, or is it a normal thing when moving to the city? I’m a small-town girl so I’m not used to this. We didn’t even have a Starbucks. Just a diner that had been broken into multiple times over the years.
Do you know the bad feeling you get when something bad is going to happen, but you ignore it for the sake of staying sane? .Yeah.
It was one of those situations.
But I needed cash. I needed a job. College in the city is expensive, especially in my mid-twenties. Uber Eats every night and various subscriptions, such as Netflix and Spotify—as well as basic living needs required cash. So, naturally, I looked for part-time jobs I could use to fill up my weekend and nights. When it came to job hunting, I was fairly lazy. So, the Starbucks job kinda came out of nowhere.
I wasn’t even looking for it. I was applying for a job in the local music store when it caught my eye. Someone to work late evenings and nights on weekdays and Saturdays. The job description didn’t say much, just basic pay details and a full paragraph dedicated to talking about “The Starbucks Family”. Skim reading it, I skipped to the APPLY NOW button and sent in my resume via email. Two hours.
It had taken two hours to get an email back offering a video interview the next day—and a guaranteed job if I didn’t screw it up. The video interview went well to my surprise. The woman who conducted it acted more like a friend, asking me what my favorite movies and TV shows were, and then going into detail about her own.
It didn’t even feel like an interview. More like a chat. Which was exactly what the email said it was going to be. The interviewer was my mom’s age, a total mom-like persona. She offered me iced tea before laughing and realizing we were on a video call. Her cat popped up halfway through her introducing several staff members by name. A large tabby whom she picked up and hugged to her chest. I wasn’t sure what to do except repeatedly say, “Aww.” and force an even bigger smile.
The woman who for some reason did not introduce herself finished the interview with a more formal and thorough talk-through of rules and regulations. Which went in one ear and out the other. I think I was too excited about the job as a whole. There’s something almost mythical about working at Starbucks. I’ve seen barista TikTok complaining about customer service and harping about in the back rooms. It looked fun. Plus, free drinks? I figured working at the famous coffee chain would at least have benefits and freebies.
The woman spoke to me for almost two hours about certain drinks, telling me I would be trained up, and then going on to explain the dos and don’ts in a working environment. It was kind of patronizing, but I figured she had to be to remain professional. I tuned out when she started talking about a certain “feud” they had with another store down the road. The woman didn’t go into detail, but her expression did darken significantly when she leaned closer to her screen and repeated the phrase, “Do you understand me?” I had to backtrack and try and go over what she had been saying, but I had found myself mesmerized by the gilded sword in the background. It hung from the back wall in all of its glory, and I was having a hard time trying to figure out why exactly a Starbucks manager had a sword hanging from her wall.
“Sim?” Inclining her head, the manager cleared her throat. “Did you hear me?”
I did. Sort of. Under no circumstances must I visit or go near 2nd Street Starbucks. If I did there would be dire consequences and I would face losing my job, or worse.
I wasn’t sure what “or worse” was, but from the way her expression twisted from funny-cat-lady to a potential employer, I didn’t want to ask.
Yikes.
“Uh, yeah,” I said. “I can’t go near the 2nd Street store.” I almost choked on a glass of water I had been slowly sipping throughout the interview. I had been sweating most of the day, dying in the intense June heat. It was a lot cooler in the evening in the city, but I was used to draining at least ten glasses a day. “Is that real?” I couldn’t help asking, pointing to the sword behind her.
I know you are supposed to maintain a certain professional persona and façade during professional work interviews with potential managers. However, I really wanted to know if that ancient thing was real, it was driving me crazy. Because questions were arising in my head: How did she get it? Was it hers? Was it for some kind of aesthetic and feng-shui, or was there more to it? From the look on the interviewer’s face, she seemed startled.
Whipping her head around, her strict grey ponytail hitting the screen, she nodded before turning back to me, her gaze flicking down to what I presumed was a script she was reading off—or maybe she was skimming through my printed-out resume. I wanted to ask her more about the elephant in the room, but she seemed satisfied with answering my question with a nod. She asked me more questions, mostly about my work ethic and if I enjoyed working in a team and independently, if I had any special requirements, and oddly—if I had ever held a firearm. Now, that caused alarm bells. Along with the gilded sword dangling from this forty-something-year-old’s lounge wall, I was definitely starting to question the exact nature of what I would be doing at this job. Serving coffee was an obvious one, though I was pretty sure Starbucks barista's didn’t require military-style training.
When I didn’t know what to say, she seemed to back-pedal. “Oh, it’s in case of a robbery.” She said. But her expression stayed stoic. Speaking in the tone of being joking, but not being joking. “It is rare. However, it is a precaution we must take.” Choosing her words carefully, the interviewer steepled her hands in front of her face, leaning her chin on her fingers. “Our employees are given basic fire-arm training in the instance that one day we may face a difficult situation. Now, I am not saying it is inevitable, but due to certain behavior throughout the years, it is, of course, better to be safe than sorry.”
“Oh.” I tried to smile. “No, I haven’t,” I paused, hoping my lack of ability to hold a gun wouldn’t screw up my chances. “But I can learn?”
I said it like a question because it was a question. I was questioning myself why exactly I would take up my time learning to shoot a gun I most likely never would need. To my surprise though, the woman’s smile brightened and she looked down at whatever she was writing.
“Of course,” she said. “Sim, I am very happy to hear that. We love employees who do their best to learn and thrive in our working environment,” she paused and typed something on her laptop before her gaze found mine. “I’ll put you down for lessons on Friday mornings. How does that sound?” Before I could answer her—because I was starting to seriously question why she was so obsessed with training me to use a goddamn gun—she was nodding to herself. “I will put Jude in charge of you. I think he is working on Friday, so your induction and welcome can be completed in the morning…”
She trailed off into her own murmured conversation to herself before clearing her throat. I jumped. I didn’t mean to jump, but her whole presence was putting me on edge. The lady had been nicer on the phone, and earlier on in the interview when she was grilling me on which Frozen character was my favorite.
“Okay!” The interviewer gathered up her paperwork, beaming at me through the camera. “Can you start tomorrow? Let’s say…” her eyebrows furrowed together. “5:30? I will not be there for the first hour due to certain obligations,” she traced her lip with the tip of her index. “However, I have four employees working the front desk, I’m sure they will give you a warm welcome.” I noticed something twitch on her lips. It was almost like she was trying to stop herself from laughing—which was childish from a standpoint where I was the younger one, while she was the senior. She was supposed to be setting some kind of standard, and yet for some reason was more inclined in teasing me about workplace friendships, and apparently how “close” my colleagues were. I wasn’t stupid, I knew what friendship was like in the workplace. It’s not “real” because you’re all there to do a job, not making lifelong friendships.
“I’m looking forward to meeting them,” I said when she snorted out a laugh that twisted up my gut.
"Absolutely," she responded. "The team is very close, so don't take it personally if they're initially cautious. I'm confident that you'll all become great friends! Kai is a kind-hearted sweetheart, while Ana may seem standoffish initially, but she'll warm up to you once you get to know her. Jude, on the other hand, will be your guide during the orientation, so it's best to stay close to him. In fact, it's recommended to shadow him during your first few hours since he's our top performer! Frankly, Sim, I can hardly wait for you to meet them! They're a great group!" This woman seemed to suddenly discover the use of expletives, or maybe she had noticed I visibly wanted to crawl into the ground. The way she was describing the other employees, I was expecting cartoon characters when I walked through the door.
“Right,” I said. I was starting to regret applying. “I’ll be there.”
She ended the call with a bright smile, and her stupid cat walking on the keyboard, causing her to squeak out in horror. I shut my laptop, my cheeks burning. Well, that went…? Well? Could I really say it went well when the manager had spent the last five minutes implying my work colleagues were going to hate me? Fuck.
I didn’t want to go. I trashed my application and deleted her number from my phone. But the morning after, however, I came to the quick realization through precious morning caffeine, that I needed cash. So, no matter how much I didn’t want to go—I had to. So, I headed to classes and tried not to think about it. It was 5:34 when I stepped into the familiar glow of the famous store—not before being stopped in the middle of a crowed by a girl wearing bright pink ray-bans and a scowl. “Do you work there?” she turned and pointed to the store.
I shrugged. “I guess.”
She scoffed, slipping off her ray-bans and fixing me with a bitchy smile. “Your funeral.”
Normally, in situations when strangers say odd things to me on the street, I just laugh it off. But this? This seemed personal.
“What?”
The girl didn’t say anything before turning and walking or rather running away.
Well, that was weird.
After that encounter, I was weighing the positives and negatives of taking up the job. The positives would be cash and something to occupy my mind away from classes, and the negatives were being stuck with insufferable colleagues and a manager who was the embodiment of unprofessional. The store was pretty empty when I stepped through automatic doors, reveling in the cooling fan blasting icy cold air in my face. A dark-haired college girl had her back to me, cleaning tables. But I noticed her stiffening up when I took a step forward. She straightened up like a cat going into territorial mode, before relaxing and holding a two-fingered hand up.
The store was empty so I had no idea who she was signaling to. It wasn’t a greeting to me—I had no idea what it was. I was halfway to the counter before a guy popped up out of nowhere, mid-way through drying a cup with a washrag. His hair was the first thing I noticed. Bright red.
In contrast to his pasty skin, this guy would definitely stand out in a crowd. He was my age or maybe a little older, mid twenties, with a wide smile and not much of anything else, kitted in a short-sleeved shirt, and a Starbucks apron over the top.
I expected quirky cartoon-like weirdos and I got an average Joe. I wasn’t complaining.
Initially, I thought this guy was just another jock-like college guy. But looking closer, the friendliness in his eyes wasn’t sincere, and his smile was strained. Keeping up a professional attitude, he regarded me with a smile, leaning across the counter. But his eyes kept flicking to the door in quick succession like he was waiting for a certain someone to come in. “You.” He pointed at me, trailing his finger to the door, swiping hair from his face with his hand. The guy was bouncing on the heels of his toes, I noticed. He couldn’t stand still, like a hyperactive child. “You’re Sim, The newbie I’m supposed to be training.”
I nodded, offering a nervous wave.
“Jude.” He introduced himself, though clearly distracted, his gaze flicking to and from the door. His facade was friendly enough, but very fake. It was the same smile I presumed he flashed at customers who complimented his looks. “Hey, Sim.”
Instead of holding out his hand for me to shake, he folded his arms across his chest. Jude cocked his head, drinking me in before his lips broke out into a beam.
"Shall we get started?"
Jude started the tour, showing me the store itself, then the back, the storage room, the staff room, and bizarrely, a wooden door which he referred to as, “The Drink”. I had no idea what that meant, but I made a mental note to steer away from it.
The backrooms of the store turned into a labyrinth. The place was covered in mold, peeling paint on the doors and old rugged floor tiles. Jude spoke way too fast like he was intentionally trying to confuse me. By the time I was struggling with my apron, he was turning on his heels with a brow raised. “Your hair is too long so you need to tie it up. You can shadow me this evening but don’t get in my way. We have two twenty-minute breaks and during them, we are contractually obligated to go down to the Second Street store and throw eggs at their windows—ooh, and the girl you just met who didn’t say a word? That’s Ana. You will get used to her.” His smile reached a level of fake I didn’t think was possible. “Why don’t you follow me?”
“What?” I managed to hiss out when Jude was leading me down a long, winding corridor that dipped into various rooms, out-of-order elevators, and the creepiest set of stairs I had ever seen leading into the pitch dark. I was still trying to register his words.
Jude twisted around with a frown. “What’s up?” He nodded at a passing blonde girl who shot me a smile, and hive-fived Jude before disappearing through a door.
“You throw eggs at the store down the road?”
The guy’s lip twitched into the start of a smile. He turned around, quickening his pace. “Did I say that? Obviously, I was joking.”
I stumbled after him, knocking into a dark-haired younger guy carrying a tray of cupcakes. He and Jude seemed to exchange words without speaking before Jude gestured to the stranger. Somehow, I figured out their telepathic conversation through eye movements and strained smiles, they weren’t talking about me. “That’s Kai,” Jude said, pushing through the doors back to the main storefront. He took a customer’s order, retaining that stupid smile. “If you need any help with making those annoying TikTok drinks that take a millennia to make and have probably broken several Geneva convention rules?” He playfully knocked into me while preparing a drink, his hands knowing where everything was, preparing and serving a latte in a matter of minutes, “Kai is your guy! He runs our social media page and is practically a connoisseur on the next big trend. He'll deal with zoomers."
I was slowly starting to ease my way into this job, and my colleagues seemed pretty cool. Jude actually helped me all the way through the evening, introducing his home life and how he grew up as he cleaned tables and conversed with the others—always throwing me into their chatting so I didn’t get left out. I ended up sorting through cookies and making price labels with Aurora, the perky blonde who high-fived Jude earlier. She spoke to me like we had been best friends for years, and that part of her charm made me instantly adore her. She was tiny for her age, but a menace when it came to her sharp tongue and language. I didn’t think a tiny thing like her could swear like a goddamn sailor, but it was cute. Jude and Aurora had a sibling-type thing going on, though every time I caught Kai’s eye, he was smirking. It seemed everyone knew they had a thing except them.
I was actually having fun with the others, bobbing my head to the radio while serving a group of kids, when Jude, who was next to me, seemed to go rigid all of a sudden. His laughing smile carved into something else. I had never seen an expression change so fast.
But he wasn’t the only one. Aurora, cleaning tables and giggling at Jude’s joke, straightened up, her eyes flashing to the door. Kai’s head snapped up from where he had been grinding coffee. Following their gaze, I found myself face-to-face with the manager who interviewed me. But unlike the night before, she was not smiling. The woman dropped her bag at the door before marching towards the counter. Jude leaned over; his expression apprehensive.
“Well?”
His eyes as well as his tone had darkened significantly. All of my colleagues had taken off these masks, these facades of joking smiles and bright eyes, and now I was seeing a glimmer of what they were hiding. What Jude had been looking for all evening, sneaking glances at the door. I watched his gaze follow the manager as she paced back and forth, chewing her nails. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” She finally said, lifting her head. Her lips were twisted. “But.” She said, spitting each word, as she rounded the counter, helping herself to coffee. “You’re going to pay a visit to them right now, and…and sort this out once and for all.” Her voice resembled that of a mother talking to her children. She was assertive to them, her eyes piercing. Do you understand me?” The woman nodded at Jude. “You can go.” Her eyes found mine. “Take the new girl, she needs to be inducted.” Finally, she turned to Ana, who was standing in the corner silently. “You are too. I need brains, and Jude is just brawn. Keep him on his toes, young lady."
With a hint of sarcasm in his tone, Jude uttered a brief "Thanks," and then proceeded to take a coffee cup and a Sharpie. Swiftly, he scrawled some words on the side of the cup, before placing it inside a bag and plonking it in front of me. As Jude reached for his coat at the back, he put it on over his green Starbucks apron, creating a striking contrast with his denim blue sherpa. With his mop of red curls, this guy was in no way going to be as incognito as he thought. "We'll manage the conversation,” he said hurriedly, visibly excited. Jude seemed to lead the others in their expressions, his confidence and wit causing them to brighten up, adapting wide smiles. He shoved his hands in his pockets, “All you gotta do is hand them this, okay?”
“Is that a good…” Kai drifted off on whatever he was about to say, ducking his head when Jude shot him a glare.
“I think it’s a perfect idea!” The manager beamed at me. “What a way to fully bring you into our family!”
I took the coffee cup (the empty coffee cup) hesitantly. “What is it?”
“It’s a gift!” Jude said, moving towards the door in long strides. It was all too noticeable that this guy was practically vibrating with an energy I had never known. It was almost manic. “I want to let them know we appreciate them! Y’know! Rival to rival.”
Kai stepped in front of him on the way out.
“Be careful,” he said in a low hum. Aurora joined him, but she wasn’t speaking, her left-hand tugging at the waistband of her jeans. “Keep your head down when you go in because they’ll be expecting you—and they’ll be expecting a retaliation.”
“Relaaaaax, it’s Cora! We used to date!” he cocked his head. "I think."
“I mean it. "
Jude’s gaze found mine for a moment before his smile grew. “Well, we have enough eggs don’t we?” He grabbed my arm, pulling me along. Ana was already gone. I could see her figure already slinking down the street, bleeding into the shadow.
When the two of us hit the cool night air and Jude quickened his pace into a power-walk, his eyes set forwards, jaw set, I figured I should ask what his deal was. If this guy was serious about vandalizing a rival Starbucks, and not just that, urged by his manager, then I had to say something.
The thought of ending up in jail being petty over a rival store made me feel nauseous.
“So, what is this about?” I asked, catapulting myself into a half-run to keep up with him. The guy had abnormally long legs, so he was halfway across the sidewalk while I was barely two steps in front. “Aren’t you taking this a little too seriously?”
Jude didn’t reply, instead remarking on the sky being filled with stars.
“Hey, Ana!” He shouted. “Wait up!”
Second Street Starbucks was like walking into a palace. I could tell why these guys were rivals. The place was a three-floored beast, a glass building made up of a Starbucks downstairs, a library, and a private apartment. I found myself mesmerized by the twinkling lights on the door, the mini water fountain through large windows showing an even bigger storefront with rich-looking wooden tables and reclining chairs. The store was closing. When we stepped in front of the door, there was a sign which clearly said CLOSED on the front.
Still, though, Ana pushed her way through it, followed by Jude, pulling me along with him. Two employees were working, a guy with short blondish hair mopping the floors, and a girl standing at the counter, going through the register. The moment we stepped inside, the guy cleaning up stopped mopping from side to side, his fingers visibly tightening around the mop handle. “Hey there!”
With one of his best fake smiles, Jude raised his arms in surrender. “We’re from the Starbucks down the road. We come in peace, don’t worry!” He gestured to me.
“Can we talk to your manager?”
He took a step, his lip twitching, eyes glinting, which caused a stir in the air. The girl at the counter stopped flicking through a wad of cash in her hand and delicately put it down, and the guy turned to face us with wary eyes.
As Jude took another stride forward, his movements resembled a dance, and I noticed he was having fun teasing them. His eyes sparkled with a childlike glee that was unexpected for a person in his twenties. "Would you like to try our latest coffee recipe? It's like sipping on liquid sunshine." He nonchalantly brushed his jeans, and I half-expected him to pull out an egg. “But…” Jude took another step, and Ana situated herself behind the blonde boy, her expression blank. “You’ve already tasted it, haven’t you?”
The girl behind the counter finally stopped counting cash, delicately placing a wad back inside the register before leaning forward, an amused smirk curving on her lips. “Jude.” Her voice was a low murmur. “I didn’t think I would see you here so soon.”
“Cora.” Jude’s lips quirked. “Trust me, I don’t want to be. But hey, it's the boss's orders.”
She inclined her head, her eyes drinking all of him in. The girl rested her fist on her chin. She was surveying him like a piece of meat. “And you obey her?”
His grin widened, and I saw his hand once again brush the front of his apron. “Like a dog.”
“You know her?” I hissed out, grasping hold of the coffee cup in my hand.
“Cora?” Jude turned to me. “Oh yeah, we used to be the Romeo and Juliet of coffee shop rivalry — back when we were both newbies, and our store kidnapped me as a last resort. To keep the peace, I stayed.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’m told, anyway.”
Starbucks lore was getting dark.
These guys had to be joking around.
I took a step back, eager to head towards the door and be as far away as possible from what I was pretty sure was going to be a lot of eggs, and several arrests. “You worked here?” I couldn’t believe my mouth was still moving and forming words as I took slow steps back. Before Jude caught my arm.
“Apparently.” He said, dragging me back by his side. “Why don’t you give ‘em’ their gift?”
Fuck.
Unwrapping the bag and pulling out the cup, I nodded and took slow strides toward the counter, placing it down in front of her.
Cora frowned, before picking it up, her gaze going to the side.
“Go fuck yourself 2nd street bloodsuckers.” She read out loud, her brow raising into her hairline.
Shit.
“I should probably go.” I managed to say, backing away. “I don’t think is the job for me—”
The latter half of my words exploded in my head when something slammed into my ears, a physical force sending me to my knees. Initially, I didn’t know what it was. It sounded like a nuclear bomb had gone off. When the ringing in my head subsided, I was aware I had my head buried in my knees, my hands clamped over my ears.
But when I tried to listen past the relentless shrill ringing in my skull, I heard them one after the other. Pop, pop, pop! Gunshots. The crack of each bullet ricocheted in my skull. It was a robbery, I thought dizzily. We were being robbed. No, Second Street was being robbed. When I lifted my head to try and find Jude and Ana to see if they were okay-- I expected them to be cowering like me, Jude, under the table, muffling yelling into his hand, and Ana, calmly pulling him to safety. But that wasn't what I saw. Instead, I must have been fucking imagining things. Jude had not moved from his spot-- and perfectly melded into his hand, was a gun. A gun he was holding like a pro, his hands wrapped around the butt, index teasing the trigger.
His trajectory was directly between Cora's eyes. Jude had not been the one who shot the gun. In fact, neither had Ana, who was still standing stiffly behind the blonde guy.
It was a girl behind the counter who had come out of nowhere wielding the type of gun I expected to see in movies. I noticed from his stance Jude had maybe stepped to the left and then the right to avoid being hit, but the way his demeanour was fully and completely relaxed sent shivers creeping down my spine. "The deal is off, Cora," he murmured. "You fuck with us, so we fuck with you." he lowered his gun slightly, his eyes darkening. "Where's Ren? He came here to sniff you out, so where is he?"
Cora seemed remarkably calm. She started to raise her hands, her lips forming the words, "I don't know what you're talking about" before she stopped, her body going limp. It took me a disorienting moment to realize Jude had taken the shot, followed by another, both landing right between her eyes. When Cora hit the ground, the whole world around me exploded.
I was dragged to the ground by Jude, as he dived across the floor, pressing himself into the back of a table, twisting around, and taking out the barista who almost shot me in the face. There were five of them, all of them good shooters. Too good. Ana easily took out a blonde and brunette with her own magnum, followed by a bald guy who crashed through the counter which collapsed under him.
Jude fell into a manic shoot-out with a guy who would not give up, and after several attempts, re-loading, and attempting to finish him from the ground, my colleague got tired and stood up, dropped his gun, and leaped across the counter. I didn't know what to watch. Ana, who was destroying their coffee machine, or Jude, who snapped the boy's neck with a single twist of his fingers, before ripping out his eyes. He hauled the dead guy over his knees, grazing his teeth across the pasty flesh of the boy's neck, his eyes flickering. I wouldn’t say they turned a different color, but there was something inhuman about them, a certain tint around his iris. "Urgh."
He shoved the corpse away, jumping up. "He reeks of it." Treading through broken glass and pooling red on the floor, my colleague grabbed a cup, downed it, and then spat it out. “That.” He sputtered. “Is the worst fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Ana stepped in front of him, handing the boy his gun. “When one of any clan is murdered for with no reason, there is an imbalance, and the coffee is tainted. We must restore the balance before this gets out of hand,” she surprised me by speaking, with a tinge of an Aussie accent. The girl side-eyed me before shooting Jude a knowing look. “Don’t let her get in our way.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” He mocked a salute before nodding to me. “All right! Sim, you grab a sample. We’ll go find the altar.”
Something ice-cold slipped down my spine.
“What?”
“Cool it. It’s more fun than it sounds,” was all Jude responded with. “Grab the samples.”
I was running on adrenaline, doing exactly what he said. I grabbed two coffee cups. “What do we do now? We go home, right?”
He swiped at his lips with a sound of disgust. “Are you kidding? No, man. We get coffee which ain’t tainted.”
Ana took out two guards in the back before leading us both through a heavy metal door that led into tunnels, tunnels, illuminated by candlelight. “You just killed multiple people,” I finally managed to choke out, following the two of them deeper into the dark. “Over coffee.” I couldn’t resist a nervous laugh that spluttered into a cry. “You just murdered seven baristas over fucking coffee!” I found myself backing away at points, scanning for a way out, an exit away from this fucking nightmare.
Jude turned to me, the glitter in his eyes reflected in the candlelight. “Oh, please,” His voice echoed down the tunnel in a chuckle. “Do you really think this is just about coffee?”
I didn't understand what he meant until we came to the end of the tunnel, which dipped into an alcove leading us into a large cave-like room. Drawing his gun, Jude scanned the dark. "Anyone in here?" He said, and Ana hit him. Silence answered, and I found myself paralyzed to the spot. I didn't know what to stare at first. The ten-foot-tall Starbucks Siren looming over us, illuminated in flickering orange candlelight, or the old swimming pool filled to the brim. When I took a step forward, my foot sunk into something soft, and I made the mistake of looking down. Bodies.
I guessed that was "The Drink".
I felt myself fall back, but Ana's warm arms were guiding me away from decomposing flesh which decapitated heads poisoned in a way that I could almost call ritualistic. There were bodies everywhere, all of them curled up or had died in a position of prayer. Jude crouched in front of a guy still in his Starbucks apron. His eyes had been cleanly plucked from his skull. Jude's expression was beautifully sombre in the candlelight. "Fuck, dude," he whispered.
"Looks like they got you."
“Which explains how they got their hands on our recipe.” Ana pulled out her gun and clicked off the safety. The girl’s eyes were suddenly sad, her lip wobbling. I had a hard time believing a girl who had taken out three baristas at point-blank range was crying.
"Through him."
“What is this place?” I whispered. "What the fuck are you doing in here?”
Jude straightened up. Ana moved behind him, and I noticed her hands holding her gun were trembling. She raised her arm, pointing it at the back of his head. Jude didn't retaliate, only sending me a sickly smile. "It used to be ours," he said. "Until other stores started opening, and it became a fucking free-for-all." Jude sighed, rocking back and forth on his heel. Ana's trigger finger followed his movements. "We have a peace treaty..." Jude trailed off. "Sorry. HAD a peace treaty." He nodded to his colleague. "Second Street has always been obsessed with this particular blend we have that other stores don't." His lips curved. "They're greedy, and thought they could fuck with us. First, they took our last manager. He was like a dad to us. Sliced him up and sent us his head." He gestured to his friend. "And then they took Ren. They brought this shit upon themselves."
As he spoke, Jude dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, bowing his head in front of the Siren. Ana didn't move. "Are you ready?"
“Always.”
I screamed, slamming my hand over my mouth when this time when Ana shot Jude point blank in the back of the head. When his body crumpled to the ground, something inside me snapped in two, and I couldn’t breathe suddenly. I thought the two were playing some kind of sick game before I caught unmistakable seeping black pooling across the alter.
In the blur of orange candlelight, it was almost a mesmerizing sight. “Shush!” Ana sent me an annoyed look, before gathering his body in her arm. “Make yourself useful and grab a bucket,” she said, stumbling towards the pool. I watched her, my heart diving into my throat. When I didn’t move, Ana hissed out and twisted around.
“Did you not hear me?!” she yelled. “Get a bucket and start collecting it!” The girl gestured towards a large, rusted pipe looming over the pool, a stream of murky brown water leaking into the pool. When I started forwards, the girl shook her head. “Not yet.” She said, before heaving Jude’s body and throwing him into the darkness. I heard the splash, but I didn’t even see his body hit the surface. Part of me wanted to demand what the fuck she was doing, but I did what I was told, with trembling hands, grabbing a bucket and shuffling over to the pool edge. Ana hissed out again. “I said not yet!” Before I could speak, she held a finger to her lips. “Do it now!”
“The pool water?!” I shrieked.
She raised a brow. “You think that’s water?”
Before I could coerce some kind of speech, I was interrupted by what felt like a sudden earthquake. The ground rumbled under our feet, and I hesitated before dropping the bucket into the water and scooping up as much as I could. I quickly realized it wasn’t water. It was thick with the constancy of blood, coffee brown and yet sticky and warm like blood.
Above us, the pipe seemed to come to life, a brand new stream of murky brown solution coming down in a waterfall. I didn’t think about the pieces of flesh floating on the surface, the decomposing heads I caught bobbing around, or the fact that I was dipping my hands in blood. Coffee and blood. My stomach was trying to projectile my lunch, but I swallowed it down. I took advantage, managing three buckets before Ana was grasping my shoulders and pulled me back. I didn’t realize I was sobbing until she was handing me a handkerchief, and I was staring at her and it, like, “What do you expect me to do with this?!”
Still in shock, I tried to get another bucket full before she dragged me from the pool edge. “You can stop now,” she said. “We have enough.”
"Enough what?!"
I staggered back when the surface of the pool rippled. I don’t know what I expected to come out.
Dead bodies?
Decapitated heads?
Not Jude, covered in the brown murky shit I had filled the buckets with. When he broke the surface, I almost threw one of the buckets at his head. Despite being covered in coffee and blood, his skin was oddly free of flaws. The guy was also really naked, which should have been a minor problem compared to what I was seeing, which was a real resurrection in front of a ten-foot statue of the Starbucks siren. Which was completely normal.
But I still found my cheeks heating up. Jude ran a hand through soaked curls sticking over his eyes, shaking them like a dog before pulling himself out. I couldn’t help noticing there was no gunshot wound. It was almost as if his body was completely new. I took in abnormally grey-looking skin, like dead flesh, before averting my gaze. “Did we do it?” He gasped out, immediately covering himself. Once out of the pool, he knelt on the ground, sucking in breaths of air before seemingly realizing the state of himself.
“Fuck. I didn’t think this through.”
“I did.” Ana reached into the backpack she had brought, pulling out a shirt and jeans, reverting her eyes, and throwing him the bundle. “Get dressed.” She said, But there was a slight smirk on her lips. “Yes. I think we managed to appease them.”
“Sweet!” Jude grinned, dressing quickly. He sucked the tips of his fingers. “Mmm.” He nodded at Ana. “That tastes a lot better.”
He gestured to her, and to my disgust, the girl delicately licked his fingers and nodded with her own smile. “It tastes like cherry blossom.”
His eyes fell on me, and I saw that inhuman gleam in his eye—that had been very much there before he was resurrected in a pool of coffee. His lip quirked. I could still see coffee-- or blood dripping in thick rivulets down his temples and cheek. “Should we?”
Jude turned to Ana. “I mean while we’re here, right? We can induct the newbie.”
Immediately, I knew what he was talking about. I stepped back, but he was following me, getting closer and closer until his breath was in my face, and I was teetering on the edge. I sensed something in his eyes, something I never expected from a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Envy. Another step, and I would be falling into what I was sure was a pool full of decomposing bodies and resurrecting coffee. “Not now,” Ana murmured, and Jude snapped out of it, taking a step back.
“Buzzkill.” He muttered.
But he did step away, allowing me to inch away from the pool.
“Later,” Ana said. “She’s shaken up. We can do it first thing tomorrow.”
To my surprise, there were no cops at the scene at Second Street. Because there was no scene.
The store was back to normal, and I didn’t have the energy to question why. When we returned, Aurora wrapped me into a hug I tried to get out of as quickly as possible, eager to get the fuck away from that place. But. I had to finish my shift. I had watched a man resurrected by coffee in a fucking Starbucks shrine, and yet somehow I had to keep making drinks until my shift ended. It was nearing closing time when the doors opened, and I found myself face-to-face with the girl from earlier. The one wearing the pink ray-bans.
She didn’t say anything, but the blade of her knife grazing my gut told me everything I needed to know. With a knowing look when she slipped off her raybans, she pressed something into my hand before leaving, and I handed it to the manager, who opened it up, almost died laughing, and then threw it in the trash.
“You work for psychopaths.” I managed to get out, sidling in front of Jude while he was clocking out.
“Also, didn’t you… didn’t you fucking die?”
Jude didn’t look up from his phone. “It’s complicated.” His lip quirked. “You’ll find out tomorrow during your induction.”
“But… you work for these people!” I lowered my voice. “And you’re not trying to get away?” I gestured to Kai and Aurora standing by the door, the two of them locked in conversation. “None of you?”
Jude frowned, and I caught the first hint of annoyance. I had only seen this guy smiling, so seeing him scowling was quite the change. “I’m sorry, do you… do you think I have a choice?”
He surprised me with a laugh. “Me? A choice? You really think I wake up every morning and WANT to do this shit?” He got close, his breath in my ear. “You came here willingly. I didn’t. In fact? I don’t even remember coming here. My interview, my first day? Nothing. I don’t even remember my time at Second Street.” He threw a towel at me before I could coerce words. “Finish clearing up, all right? I’ll see you tomorrow for induction.”
There was something cruel in his smile like he was waiting for whatever my induction had in store for me.
I couldn’t help myself. When everyone was gone, and I was tasked with locking up, I picked the discarded note out of the trash, smoothing it down.
“You pieces of shit just declared war. Sleep with one eye open! 😊”
Cora xx.”
….
I cut my finger with a knife this morning. When I sucked it and grabbed a band-aid, I tasted coffee. I went home and threw up coffee.
I am peeing coffee.
I showered 8 times and I still fucking smell of coffee.
I don’t think I’m going to go to work tomorrow.
Edit: There’s been a break-in— and the manager wants me to come in early. Jude and Ana woke me up in the middle of the night to go over tactics. We are taking down Second Street during closing time.
I guess I am going to work tomorrow.
Does anyone know how to use a gun?
2023.06.09 20:24 Mean-Classic-7739 Something in the blizzard pt.2
Part 2
Day 11
The pain was excruciating and all over my body. A thousand knives seemed to dig into me. I lay there for a minute with the dead creature still on top of me. I was trying to muster enough strength to get up and move this horrible thing off me, but I couldn’t. Finally, after what seemed like lying there for an hour Chloe came over and helped me move its dead body off me.
She froze when she saw me. I must’ve looked horrible so much had happened to me in the last 10 minutes. I saw her eyes move to my left hand. I found my tired eyes looking over, and what I saw was horrifying. My left hand was a bloody broken mess, fingers were missing, bones were sticking out in odd places, and a huge chunk of my palm was completely gone. I puked all over myself. Chloe looked like she was trying so hard to keep herself together.
The next few minutes were tense. Chloe tied one of her layers to my arm as a makeshift tourniquet. Then we slowly made our way home with Chloe practically dragging me.
They had to stitch my wounds while I was still conscious due to us not having anesthetics, and those were the most painful moments of my life. I felt the needle go in and out of my skin, I felt the small string pull my muscle and skin back together, and I felt when they had to cut one of my fingers off. It was absolutely excruciating and after it was done I passed out.
Chloe sat on the couch feeling awful and tired. She’d just spent an hour trying to get the food that had been in the fridge into coolers, but her mind was so busy she hardly cared. She felt awful about everything. There was so much she could’ve done, so many ways she could’ve helped me. So many ways that led to me still having a hand. If only I hadn’t been a coward, she thought, if I just hadn’t stood there maybe he would still have his hand. If only she’d just shot it again. She wiped her face trying not to cry. She had to be the strong one now, she had to be brave.
She was very curious, she wanted to know what exactly had happened to Carl. Joey hadn’t had the time to tell her whether or not the man was dead. She assumed he was due to the blood and the creature, but there was a small chance. She told Gretchen and Ronda (my mom) what her plan was. They agreed and she went to get ready.
She brought two guns, the sniper and the semi-automatic. She also found an old motorcycle helmet and decided to use that as a makeshift helmet. She knew if I had been awake I wouldn’t have not in a million years let her go, so she made her process quick just in case I did wake up.
Crunch! The snow had melted slightly the night before so now it felt more like walking across huge ice sheets. As she walked she realized she didn’t even have to use the GPS because of the blood trail. She followed it for a while, the snow constantly attacking her. After a couple of minutes, she found it. Lying in the middle of the street now with a fresh layer of snow on it was the creature, the hound as she’d begun to refer to it in her head. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it like I had so her eyes went wide when she saw the body. She was struck by how much its exoskeleton looked like big chunks of rocks. She also noticed the now frozen yellow-greenish blood around the body. Chloe leaned down to examine what was left of the head. What was left was a hollow shell of the exoskeleton; the gunshot in the mouth had practically liquefied everything in its head. She remembered how everything had exploded from the mouth and eye holes. The image of the eyes getting blown out from behind disgusted her.
She found herself examining the rest of the body and she couldn’t help but keep looking at the four legs. They looked so out of place on the body. They looked so mammalian for such an insect-like creature. They literally looked like stretched-out bald dog legs. She had a feeling of deja vu as she looked at the legs, she couldn’t help but think of the black dog they’d seen the other day. She made a note in her head that she wanted to take the body with her on the way back.
Finally, she stood up and started making her way towards the store. Like before she just followed the blood. She remembered when Joey ran into her he was covered in blood, like he’d slipped into the trail. She dreaded to think what he’d found in the showers. Her trek was slow and eerie. Then as she got closer the dead silence was cut by a ticking sound. She vaguely recognized it as something those spiders had made. Specifically the stinger ones. She kept the semi-automatic raised and got ready for a fight, but the ticking sounds slowly faded and she kept moving.
The store was just as she had left it early that morning. It was still a complete wreck. She hurried past the shattered glass and toppled shelves, through the small break room, and into the bunk room. It looked even worse than before. It looked like the creature had destroyed a few more things after it caught the headlamp. She specifically noticed a new deep gash in the bunk they’d hid behind.
As she walked into the shower room she heard a faint dripping sound. She started going one stall at a time to find it. First empty, second empty, but the third she wanted to throw up. Carl lay in the back of the stall, his body a bloody mess. His torso was almost gone. Everything inside of it had been ripped out along with most of his flesh. His ribs were shattered and lying on the floor. His spine was cracked and twisted. It looked like it had been broken. She threw up and stepped away from the sight, making her start to sob. Pull yourself together, she thought to herself, now isn’t the time. She wiped the tears off her face and continued. He had a daughter and a wife. She had to know what happened to them. So with much hesitance, she continued.
Fourth room empty, fifth empty, sixth empty, seventh empty, she stood next to the eighth stall dreading what she’d find inside. She didn’t want to see what was in there, but she would never forgive herself for not looking.
Two cocoon-looking things lay in the stall. They were white and pulsating slightly. They looked like the web cocoon the stingers had wrapped around the dog, but these were too big to be dogs. Instantly she knew what had happened to his wife and daughter. Chloe stepped away so she didn’t have to see it anymore, and then she had a thought. They wouldn’t leave them unattended, would they? She became much more nervous and started cautiously making her way from the room. She started to hear the ticking noises outside again and her hands started to shake. She took a deep breath and kept walking.
She walked into the main part of the store and saw a dozen or so stingers crawling in through one of the broken windows. She gasped, then in a hurry ducked back into the breakroom. Her whole body was shaking as she stood there listening to them scurrying around the store. Then after a minute one walked into the breakroom didn’t see her and disappeared into the bunk room. Then another went through, then another, then another, then another, and soon all but one had passed through. Her whole body was trembling when finally it walked through. This one was walking more slowly and looking around much more than the others, and suddenly its small beady eyes met hers. Scre… Rat-a-tatata! Four quick bullets cut through the stinger. All four hit it right in the head. She had a small feeling of triumph then Screech! The other stingers started running into the room. She hurried out in such a rush she didn’t watch where she was stepping and slipped on a piece of glass.
Smack! Her helmet slammed into the ground and then the rest of her. She watched them hurriedly crawl towards her. She tried to get a shot but they were just too fast. Then she felt a sharp pain in her leg. One of the stingers had sunk their stinger into her calf. Another was about to sting before she made her move. She grabbed a large piece of glass and stabbed it into the one on her leg, and then quickly stuck the shard into the other one that was about to sting her. Then she quickly stood up. Her body was starting to feel heavy and she was getting a little loopy. The other stingers were screeching and running toward her. Rat-a-tatatatata! She shot 10 rounds into the remaining nine stingers. Seven exploded when the bullet made contact, another got three legs blown off, the last wasn’t hit, and before she could shoot again it had lodged its stinger in her boot. She stopped for a second realizing that the stinger hadn’t actually pierced her foot then Rat-a-tat! She shot two bullets into the thing and then pulled it off her foot.
Her adrenaline was wearing off and the venom was doing its work fast. Her eyes were starting to close and she had to concentrate just to keep them open. I need to get somewhere safe, she thought looking around, and then her eyes fell on an intact door.
She locked the door to the women's restroom and then slumped against it as she felt her consciousness begin to slip. All she could think of was me hoping that I was okay, and hoping that she’d be able to see me again. Then finally she blacked out.
Her eyes fluttered open to see she was in the same place she’d passed out. There was a small puddle of blood around her calf. She weakly reached over and touched the wound. It wasn’t bleeding any more. I must’ve been out for a while. She thought, gingerly beginning to put weight on her leg. It hurt but she could walk. Click, she unlocked the bathroom door, raised the gun, and opened the door. She was nervous, worried that maybe more of them had come while she was out. It didn’t look like too much time had passed, and even more importantly there were no stingers. She looked over and saw her footprints were still visible through the heavily falling snow. Good not much time must have passed, she thought. Then she pulled out the phone and called Gretchen.
Bzzz…
“Gretchen, I got stung and passed out. What time is it?” She asked.
Gretchen’s relieved voice cut through the phone: “Oh Chloe thank goodness, it’s 2:42. You left around 12.”
Day 13
I woke up to giggling and laughter. I sat up and looked at the doorway and on the other side I could hear the boys quietly playing together. I moved the covers and tried to move my legs, but instantly daggers of pain went up my right leg. I wanted to do it more slowly but nothing seemed to help.
“Chloe!” I called and immediately heard something clatter upstairs followed by fast footsteps into the basement.
In a second Chloe had sprinted into the room and was on top of me giving me a huge hug. She pulled away and gave me one of her pretty little smiles.
“How are you feeling?” She asked.
My stomach growled and that answered her question.
“You’ve been asleep for almost two days, no wonder you’re hungry.” She said, I froze and looked over at the clock, but nothing showed on it. It was just a blank black screen.
“When did the power go out?” I asked, turning back toward her.
“Not long after you fell asleep.” She said, “We put as much food as we could into coolers, but most of what was in the fridge and freezer has gone bad.”
Her face was sad and grim. I reached for her hand with my good hand and squeezed it.
“We’ll get through this just like everything else. We’ll make it through if we stick together.” I told her starting to realize how hoarse I sounded.
She smiled then looked up at me again: “I’ll go get you some food… and a water bottle.” She said walking back out of the room.
I lay there in deep thought when Alan poked his head in.
“Uncle, are you okay?” He asked, sitting down on the foot of the bed.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, smiling at him.
He smiled back, “Uncle you’ve got a Lego hand now.” He yelled pointing to my left hand.
I looked at my hand and saw the way they wrapped it did look like a Lego hand.
“Ha… yeah I suppose so.” I chuckled, Alan nodded and disappeared into the hallway.
A few minutes later Chloe appeared in the doorway with a plate and Mom and Gretchen tailed her.
“Sweety, are you ok?” My mom asked, walking over to the bedside and putting her hand on my forehead.
“Yes Mom I’m ok, I’m as ok as I can be right now,” I told her.
“Well I’m glad you’re ok,” She said, hugging me.
“Me too,” Gretchen added, hugging me.
After a minute they broke away and Chloe gave me my plate. It was some dry cereal and a piece of toast.
“Sorry… that’s all I could scrape together.” She said her expression was sad.
“How much is left?” I asked her.
“A few days maybe, the water situation is even worse though,” She said grimly.
I felt a crushing sense of defeat at that.
“We’re going to need to do something now,” Gretchen said, “Before we can’t do anything.”
“Agreed, but what? There is no chance of leaving without a snow plow.” I grumbled, becoming more disheartened.
“What if we had a snow plow?” Chloe asked.
“What?” Me and Gretchen asked.
“I mean, they keep it at the tractor place just a mile away. We could get the snow plow.” She suggested a hint of hope in her eyes.
“I don’t think we’ll all fit. Let alone supplies.” I told her.
“So then we bring two vehicles,” She said, “One or two of us go to the place, get the snow plow, and come back to the others in the other vehicle and follow behind.”
It was actually a pretty good plan, but it was still wishful thinking. They had a lot of variables on that.
“That might work, but it will take time and we don’t exactly have time,” I said.
“Well then let's get some more time. We might be able to find more food in other homes,” My mom said.
“Yes, in theory, that would work, but we don’t have two people to go,” I said.
“I’m out of commission, Gretchen isn’t leaving her boys, and not in a million years am I letting you go, Mom,” I argued.
“She can handle herself, she did the other day,” Mom argued back.
“What?... no I was with her…” I turned toward Chloe in confusion.
I saw a guilty look on her face and she told me that she’d gone to the store on the 11th day after they were done treating me.
I pulled her into a tight hug and whispered in her ear: “If you do that again I will use whatever force necessary to make your stay here.”
She looked at me, her eyes darkening: “Joey if I don’t go, we will starve. I’m terrified too but if that is what needs to be done I’ll do it.”
“I… I… I don’t want to lose you.” I sputtered out.
Her face turned red before she said: “I don’t want to lose you either, or any of you guys and that's why I need to go.”
I finally relented, Gretchen and my mom left the room, and Chloe sat and chatted with me while I ate my mediocre breakfast.
She perked up and said, “Joey I need to show you something.”
She got up and helped me get out of bed. Getting out wasn’t that hard unless I had to move my left leg or arm. Once I was standing she helped me over to the restroom and then helped me sit down.
“What am I supposed to be looking at?” I asked, looking around the bathroom.
“This,” She said, pulling the shower curtain open and revealing what was inside.
Lying inside the tub was the body of the dog bug creature.
“Why the heck did you bring that in?” I asked.
“Aren’t you curious what it is?” She asked, an almost crazed look in her eyes.
“Fair, I am curious,” I said. “Found anything out so far?” I then asked.
“Well a no, not yet,” She said looking disappointed now, “I just know it isn’t anything science knows of.”
“Nothing, nothing interesting?” I inquired.
“Well yes there are interesting things,” She said, “Like look at this.”
She grabbed a knife covered in yellowish-green blood and used it to open a previously cut incision into the body. I looked inside and saw something quite strange. This thing still had an endoskeleton.
“Nothing that we know of on earth has an endo and exoskeleton, and I honestly don’t know why an animal would have both.” She said looking up at me.
“Hmm… mind if I take a look?” I asked.
She nodded and I moved over and took the knife with my right hand. I used the knife to hold open the incision and I looked at the bone. It looked normal but I was suspicious so I set the knife down, reached in, and yanked the femur I’d been looking at out. The femur was the size it should’ve been for a normal dog, but for this creature, it was extremely undersized.
“Just as I thought,” I said, looking over at her.
“Can you explain to me what it is that you just figured out?” She asked, very confused.
“Look how small this femur is, it should be double the size for this creature, but it is the adequate size for a normal dog. The way I figure this is that during the metamorphosis that changed the dog into this thing the bones were not destroyed or changed. That’s why they are still there but not the right size.” I explained holding the bone up to her.
“I suppose that your theory makes sense,” She said after a short pause.
Day 14
Chloe sat on the bed strapping on the extra gear I was making her take. I knew I couldn’t stop her from going so I decided I would make her as safe as possible. I dug through old boxes and found my dad's old Kevlar vests. There were two so I cut one up to make guards for her arms and legs. Then I made her put on an extra coat to add one more layer of protection, as for other parts I agreed that the motorcycle helmet was the best helmet we had so she put that on.
Now she was sitting on the bed with the helmet sitting next to her while she was loading her weapons. She was bringing the semi-automatic and the sniper rifle with extra ammo for each. She also had a hunting knife strapped to her belt saying it would’ve come in handy last time. I looked at her and gave her a tight hug.
“If you don’t come back I’ll find you and teach you a lesson.” I jokingly threatened her.
She let out a giggle, “I’ll try my best.”
Again she made her outside into the blizzard. It raged on around her as it had been for days. She had to climb the almost four-foot-tall pile of snow before she could really start exploring. They’d assumed that the people who had left town wouldn’t have much food in their homes, so she planned to hit Carl’s house and the Garrison’s house today. Then check out a few other houses the next day, but right now she had to focus on simply taking the next step because anytime she stepped wrong she’d sink further into the snow. Slowly through the whipping wind and freezing snow, she walked. It was exhausting especially with her still being sore from a couple of days ago, but she continued despite the pain and weather. Despite it all she kept taking step after step after step, and the whole time the blizzard's icy claws were digging into her.
Eventually, she saw the destroyed store and walked past it, her eyes eyeing the shattered windows for any movement but nothing happened. She continued onward knowing that Carl’s house was now only a block away. She walked carefully and precisely trying not to step in the wrong place. Then she saw it. Carl’s house was a small colonial-style two-story home with a big wrap-around porch, but now it looked horrible. The door was ripped out of its hinges and two or three windows were shattered. She slid down a short snowy slope and onto the porch. Crack! One of the wooden planks that made the porch broke from under her foot and her foot slipped down. She pulled it out of the hole and slowly walked into his house.
There was a trail of snow leading in from the fallen door almost like a carpet leading her into this place. It was horrible on the inside. It reminded her of the store. Furniture was thrown every which way, some bearing deep gashes. The closest door to her had a hole going straight through it. She walked over a vast sea of shattered glass and turned into the kitchen. The granite countertops had been ripped from their places and shattered on the tiled floor. A large gash was in the door of the now fallen fridge. She walked over and kneeled down near the fridge, ripping open one of the doors. As she suspected, everything in there was frozen solid. Sitting in there was cheese, deli meat, assorted fruits and vegetables, shattered glasses of condiments, and two steaks. She grabbed everything and stuffed it all into one of the duffel bags she’d brought. Then she saw a loaf of bread lying on the ground near her and grabbed that too. She stood up and looked around the kitchen. She noticed a box of pasta sitting next to a pot on the stove. The box was full, so she grabbed it. The pot was partly melted onto the stove and frozen tomato sauce sat inside.
The picture of what had happened began to emerge in her head. Carl had likely been walking home from the store when it attacked. It chased him inside, breaking down the door and destroying everything in its path. His wife, Greta, had been making spaghetti for dinner when it happened. He ran into the kitchen and grabbed his wife with the beast following him. It destroyed the kitchen as it chased them.
Chloe pushed those thoughts from her head and opened their pantry to see if there was more food. There were lots of boxes but her eyes fell on the cans that lined the bottom of the pantry. There were dozens of them, probably a hundred or two cans. She kneeled and started eagerly grabbing the cans and putting them in the duffel bag. She even took out the cheese and pasta to make for more room.
She stopped her eager collecting when she heard a slight ticking noise. Stingers she thought and then pulled her knife from her belt in preparation. The ticking was slight and distant. It probably just walked in, she thought. With the ticking, she heard the slight creaking of the wood floor in the hall as it approached the kitchen. Then a scraping tapping sound as it began walking on the tiles. She gripped the knife tightly and got ready to stab the thing. Scr…! The stinger managed to give off a faint screech before the sharp hunting knife pierced its windpipe. She yanked the knife out of its neck severing the head from the body. Then she resheathed the knife and quietly got back to what she’d been doing. She didn’t stop until the bag was bulging then she zipped it closed and heaved it under her arm. It was heavy but she wasn’t weak.
She walked over to the front door and set the duffel bag next to it. She wanted to check out the rest of the house before she left.
She crept down the hall and into the master bedroom. It was intact, everything looked right and nothing was broken. She walked over to the dresser and started going through the drawers. Darn, just clothes. She thought as she dug her hands in shuffling the clothes around. She opened the drawer and start thrashing around the clothes when she felt something hard. She pulled a box of ammo out of the drawer. It was for the revolver she looked to see how much but it was empty.
Almost every stair on the way upstairs bore scratches and one or two were cracked. They creaked so loud she began to worry that the noise would get the stinger’s attention but nothing came. Then finally she arrived upstairs. The second floor of their house was composed of two rooms, a restroom, and his daughter Lacy’s bedroom. The bedroom door and a dresser lay on the room floor scratched and broken. The rest of the room was torn apart. The bed was shredded and a mirror lay shattered on the ground. Her eyes fell to the window which was propped open.
The rest of their story seemed to fall into place. Carl and Greta ran upstairs chased by the hound, and into Lacy’s room. They barricaded the door as the creature tried to get it, and then they all quickly slipped out of the window onto the porch roof and then to the ground. They ran to the store and bunkered there. The creature searched the whole shop but couldn’t find them. Then later the hound came back and Carl went to fight it. He told Greta and Lacy to hide in a stall and made his way to the main part of the shop. There he was killed and then dragged into the shower stall to be eaten, and at some point during that time the stingers and slugs got to Lacy and Greta.
She shivered, they’d tried so hard but it still got to them. Maybe if he’d had more bullets he could’ve survived. Thinking of the empty box and the two shots that had woken them that night.
She walked out of the bedroom and back downstairs. She found her eyes wandering around the destroyed first floor again, and it struck her that something bigger had to have done this. There was no way the deer-sized hound would have destroyed this much. She hurried over into the kitchen again and looked at the gash in the fridge. That’s too big. Way too big! She thought looking at the huge gash. She started to think about the store and the same inconsistencies began to appear in the memories. All the damage, the claw marks, the strength, it was all too much, too big, there was no way the hound had done this.
As she was thinking she noticed a doorway she hadn’t been through. Next to her was the doorway to the basement stairs with the door wide open. She peaked down and saw light down there, not much probably from a window, but it was something.
Creak! Her first step of descent was loud and made her worry again that something would hear her. She stopped and listened, but nothing. So as carefully as she could she continued. Every step was as loud as the first and every step made her jump in her skin and wait for something to happen. But after what seemed like ages she arrived at the bottom.
The basement was large with two spare bedrooms and a large storage room. She slowly walked down the hall looking into the bedrooms on both sides of her. They were bare with nothing much more than beds, so she walked forward and into the main storage room.
The storage room had large shelving units across the whole room. The shelves were partially filled with labeled boxes. She walked over to one shelf and started reading the labels. Christmas, no, I don't need that. Halloween, not that. Games, nope. Sports could be useful. She thought as she grabbed the heavy crate and set it out in front of her. She grabbed the latches on either side, undoing them and popping the lid off.
Suddenly a ripping sound erupted from another part of the basement. The ripping had a sort of wet sound to it. Chloe started to walk over to the sound far too curious not to. Screech! It came from the same direction as the ripping sound. She got the gun ready and then jumped from around a shelf not facing what was making the sound. She watched one of those hound things fully emerge from a cocoon and look over at her. A chill ran down her spine as its four eyes met hers; the two to the left were icy blue and the two to the right were dark brown. This one was also slightly smaller but much stockier than the other. Rat-a-tatatata! She released a quick barrage of bullets hoping to stop the disgusting thing, but it just started charging for her. Quickly she moved to the other side of the shelving and pushed it down. Her whole body was shaking, but she had to keep calm and keep fighting. The hound howled in pain and started cracking through the wooden shelf to get to her. She took this time to aim a good shot at its face. Rat-a-tat! She shot two quick bullets into its face. One sunk into its exoskeleton the other buried itself into one of its eyes. SCREECH!!!!! It broke through the shelf and made a quick dive toward her. It pinned her to the ground, knocking her gun away in the process. It sunk its jaws into the helmet and it started to break and crack. She started to cry. This thing was going to eat through her helmet then her face, but during this moment of panic she remembered something. She pulled the knife from her belt and stabbed it into the hound's semi-exposed underbelly. It screeched again in pain so she stabbed again. She then shoved the hurt thing off of her and dove for the gun. She felt one of its praying mantis talons slash her vest and then her upper leg, so she turned around and fired. Rat-a-tatata! She shot it four more times, one hitting its forehead, the second hitting its mouth, the third mouth as well, and the fourth badly damaged its lower jaw. Its face was covered in yellow-greenish blood and it was throwing up blood onto the floor. Just as she thought it might be dying it made a quick sprint toward her. It bit her right knee, its teeth sinking in and actually managing to make her bleed. But then crash! It shoved forward and caused her to fall on top of it. Not having a good shot she grabbed the knife and started stabbing anywhere she could until it finally stopped fighting.
She lay there catching her breath until finally she stood up. Her vision was disrupted by the cracks in the helmet’s visor. She tore the helmet off and threw it down onto the dying hound. Even as it lay there it still tried to get toward her and attack her. She thought about executing it but decided that would just be a waste of a bullet and in a weird way she found its attempts to attack entertaining.
The sports crate she’d opened earlier didn’t have much use. It contained a few balls and two or three different types of rackets. She continued looking through the shelves until she found a box labeled camping. She slid it off the shelf and onto the floor, undid the latches, and popped the lid off. Inside the box were all sorts of goodies. At the top of the box were two big mummy sleeping bags. She pulled those out to see fire starters, water purifiers, bug spray, sunscreen, a small tent, utensils, pots and pans, and a large hatchet. Excitedly she grabbed her other duffel bag and moved everything from the crate into it.
She heaved the duffel bag under her arm and carried it back upstairs. She set it next to the other and turned around. She wanted to check one more place before she left the house. She walked across the house and to the backdoor pushing it open and looking outside. In their backyard half buried in snow was a shed. She hurried over to the shed through the deep snow. The doors were almost completely covered in snow and she knew she wouldn't be spending the whole day shoveling. Luckily there was a small window near the top of the shed. She gave it one good kick and the window popped open. She slid through the hole and dropped down into the shed.
The shed was small with very little inside. There was a lawn mower and a few tools but that was it. The one thing that did catch her eye was a small wooden sled with a rope tied to the front. She picked it up thinking how much easier it would make carrying the bags.
Chloe carefully shoved the sled through the window frame and then squeezed through herself. She carried the sled into the house, used tape to keep the bags secure on it, and then started pulling the sled back towards home. Carl’s house was near the top of a small hill, so for a short couple of seconds, she rode the sled as it slid down the icy slope. It made her feel like a little kid and she wished it would have lasted longer.
After a long walk through the blizzard she arrived home tired and her face feeling like it was freezing off. Gretchen hugged her the moment she walked in.
“Are you ok? We thought we heard gunshots.” She said a little worried.
“You did… I had to kill another hound thing. Just like the one in the tub. The armor worked like a charm though, I hardly felt its bite.” Chloe said motioning to the rip in her pants around the knee.
“Oh shoot you bleeding,” Gretchen said looking at her leg.
Chloe looked down to see a cut on her thigh and a few small nicks on her knee.
I sat in bed. I'd just heard Chloe come in and I waited patiently for her to come down. After a couple of minutes, I heard footsteps come downstairs and start creeping down the hall. Then I saw her face poke in from around the door. She smiled and walked in when she saw I was awake.
“Hi babe, how are you feeling?” She asked, taking a seat next to me.
“I mean my hand still hurts like heck, but yeah I’m fine.” I joked.
She smiled, “Seriously though, are you feeling alright?” She asked.
“I’m feeling fine,” I lied trying to get her to stop worrying.
“I want to hear about everything that happened,” I said sitting up.
So she told me everything that happened, even her theory on what exactly happened to Carl and his family.
“Did they have a dog?” She asked me after finishing her story.
“Yeah… a pitbull I think,” I replied, trying my best to remember the odd times when Carl talked about his dog.
“That explains it, that hound was a lot stockier than the one you shot.” She said, “Also it destroyed the helmet so I need a new one before I go to the Garrison’s house.”
I gave her a worried look, “Do you need to go?” I asked.
“YES!” She insisted, “We don’t know what happened to them, and I’d like to find a little more food.”
“But do we need more food?” I asked, “You got a lot of cans.”
“Joey, this has already been going on for two weeks. Who knows how long it will last? More preparation never hurts.” She argued, sounding a little angry now.
“Ok… Ok… Just be safe,” I told her and gave her a big hug.
Gretchen found an arguably better helmet in the garage, a big metal welding helmet. It fit Chloe almost perfectly, and as a backup, she wore two thick hoods to protect the back of her head. She had a very bad feeling this time, as she stood there by the door she couldn’t help but shake. She wanted someone to come with her, and as big Herman came over to say his goodbyes she had an idea.
She marched through the deep snow with Herman atop the sled she pulled. She’d try to have him follow on foot, but the snow was just too high and he kept getting stuck. But she didn’t care that he was just extra weight because she was just happy that she wasn’t facing this alone. She slowly made her way down the street, the blizzard more relentless than ever. It seemed to her the longer the blizzard continued the stronger it was becoming. The snow continued to pound down on top of her slowly wearing down her will to continue, but it didn’t stop her. She took one step after another after another. She was starting to tire and the pain of the injuries was beginning to wear on her. But every time she seemed to slow Herman would give a little woof, and she would keep on going.
The snow had become so hard to see through that more than an outstretched hand was invisible to her. Her vision was so bad she didn’t know the group of crawlers and slugs were there until she was practically right on top of them
Meanwhile…
“Hey, we should probably start clearing the driveway now,” Gretchen said suddenly to her mom while they both sat at the kitchen table.
“That’s probably a wise idea,” Our mother said with a smile.
Gretchen and Mom began their efforts with large snow shovels. Gretchen did most of the work as Mom had to take frequent breaks. They shoveled and shoveled as the day wore on going over their work with salt so as to not let more snow accumulate. Gretchen was exhausted from the work, but she continued nonetheless. She kept digging ad digging until she heard the shovel scrape concrete then she moved to the next section. Despite the cold, they were both dripping with sweat.
I sat by the window watching them work while the boys played. I so wanted to go help but knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but sit and watch them work. I felt horrible as I watched, and then my mind started thinking of Chloe. I pulled out the walkie and pressed the button to talk.
The first thing Chloe heard was Screech! The stinger was right in front of her clearly just as surprised by her as she was of it. But it wasn’t alone from her restricted view; it looked like there were about 10 stingers and 3 or so slugs.
She tried to raise her gun but they were scattering around far too quickly. Then she heard a ripping noise as one of them drove a stinger into her boot. She pulled out the hunting knife and made quick work of the stinger. Two more stingers were charging straight for her and one was coming from her left. Before she could do anything the snow under the two erupted and they were dragged down into it. She wasn’t able to see what it was and she began to shake as it did the same thing to the one coming from her left. In a sudden panic, she turned around to see the sled empty with a hole in the snow right next to it. She let out a small cry whatever was under the snow had gotten Herman and the stingers, but there was no time for mourning as more of the stingers began coming for her. Again the snow erupted under them but this time she got a better look. Whatever was under the snow was big and white. She got the gun as the thing took out the rest of the slugs and stingers. She assumed it was coming for her next. She hurried and jumped atop the sled so it couldn’t take her down easily. She stood there ready to fight whatever monster thing had gotten everything. Horrible images of twisted spider mole creatures flew through her head. Suddenly the snow next to the sled exploded open and she saw the large white beast jump out of the snow and on top of her. She closed her eyes expecting to feel teeth begin to sink down, but after a second she heard a lapping sound. She opened her eyes to see Herman on top of her licking her helmet. She smiled and let out a laugh.
“Good boy!” She said encouragingly.
Herman was completely covered in snow; he looked more like a polar bear than a dog. She brushed some of it off but didn’t bother to do much. She helped the big dog back onto the sled and continued forward. She walked another block before she finally saw her destination to her right was the Garrison’s large house broken and beaten from obvious attacks. It stood there somehow feeling more eerie than the surrounding houses. She stepped onto the wooden porch and there was a loud creak. Ever so more carefully she and Herman crept across the porch and into the house. If only they’d known what they were about to walk into.
submitted by Mean-Classic-7739 to LighthouseHorror [link] [comments]
Day 11
The pain was excruciating and all over my body. A thousand knives seemed to dig into me. I lay there for a minute with the dead creature still on top of me. I was trying to muster enough strength to get up and move this horrible thing off me, but I couldn’t. Finally, after what seemed like lying there for an hour Chloe came over and helped me move its dead body off me.
She froze when she saw me. I must’ve looked horrible so much had happened to me in the last 10 minutes. I saw her eyes move to my left hand. I found my tired eyes looking over, and what I saw was horrifying. My left hand was a bloody broken mess, fingers were missing, bones were sticking out in odd places, and a huge chunk of my palm was completely gone. I puked all over myself. Chloe looked like she was trying so hard to keep herself together.
The next few minutes were tense. Chloe tied one of her layers to my arm as a makeshift tourniquet. Then we slowly made our way home with Chloe practically dragging me.
They had to stitch my wounds while I was still conscious due to us not having anesthetics, and those were the most painful moments of my life. I felt the needle go in and out of my skin, I felt the small string pull my muscle and skin back together, and I felt when they had to cut one of my fingers off. It was absolutely excruciating and after it was done I passed out.
Chloe sat on the couch feeling awful and tired. She’d just spent an hour trying to get the food that had been in the fridge into coolers, but her mind was so busy she hardly cared. She felt awful about everything. There was so much she could’ve done, so many ways she could’ve helped me. So many ways that led to me still having a hand. If only I hadn’t been a coward, she thought, if I just hadn’t stood there maybe he would still have his hand. If only she’d just shot it again. She wiped her face trying not to cry. She had to be the strong one now, she had to be brave.
She was very curious, she wanted to know what exactly had happened to Carl. Joey hadn’t had the time to tell her whether or not the man was dead. She assumed he was due to the blood and the creature, but there was a small chance. She told Gretchen and Ronda (my mom) what her plan was. They agreed and she went to get ready.
She brought two guns, the sniper and the semi-automatic. She also found an old motorcycle helmet and decided to use that as a makeshift helmet. She knew if I had been awake I wouldn’t have not in a million years let her go, so she made her process quick just in case I did wake up.
Crunch! The snow had melted slightly the night before so now it felt more like walking across huge ice sheets. As she walked she realized she didn’t even have to use the GPS because of the blood trail. She followed it for a while, the snow constantly attacking her. After a couple of minutes, she found it. Lying in the middle of the street now with a fresh layer of snow on it was the creature, the hound as she’d begun to refer to it in her head. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it like I had so her eyes went wide when she saw the body. She was struck by how much its exoskeleton looked like big chunks of rocks. She also noticed the now frozen yellow-greenish blood around the body. Chloe leaned down to examine what was left of the head. What was left was a hollow shell of the exoskeleton; the gunshot in the mouth had practically liquefied everything in its head. She remembered how everything had exploded from the mouth and eye holes. The image of the eyes getting blown out from behind disgusted her.
She found herself examining the rest of the body and she couldn’t help but keep looking at the four legs. They looked so out of place on the body. They looked so mammalian for such an insect-like creature. They literally looked like stretched-out bald dog legs. She had a feeling of deja vu as she looked at the legs, she couldn’t help but think of the black dog they’d seen the other day. She made a note in her head that she wanted to take the body with her on the way back.
Finally, she stood up and started making her way towards the store. Like before she just followed the blood. She remembered when Joey ran into her he was covered in blood, like he’d slipped into the trail. She dreaded to think what he’d found in the showers. Her trek was slow and eerie. Then as she got closer the dead silence was cut by a ticking sound. She vaguely recognized it as something those spiders had made. Specifically the stinger ones. She kept the semi-automatic raised and got ready for a fight, but the ticking sounds slowly faded and she kept moving.
The store was just as she had left it early that morning. It was still a complete wreck. She hurried past the shattered glass and toppled shelves, through the small break room, and into the bunk room. It looked even worse than before. It looked like the creature had destroyed a few more things after it caught the headlamp. She specifically noticed a new deep gash in the bunk they’d hid behind.
As she walked into the shower room she heard a faint dripping sound. She started going one stall at a time to find it. First empty, second empty, but the third she wanted to throw up. Carl lay in the back of the stall, his body a bloody mess. His torso was almost gone. Everything inside of it had been ripped out along with most of his flesh. His ribs were shattered and lying on the floor. His spine was cracked and twisted. It looked like it had been broken. She threw up and stepped away from the sight, making her start to sob. Pull yourself together, she thought to herself, now isn’t the time. She wiped the tears off her face and continued. He had a daughter and a wife. She had to know what happened to them. So with much hesitance, she continued.
Fourth room empty, fifth empty, sixth empty, seventh empty, she stood next to the eighth stall dreading what she’d find inside. She didn’t want to see what was in there, but she would never forgive herself for not looking.
Two cocoon-looking things lay in the stall. They were white and pulsating slightly. They looked like the web cocoon the stingers had wrapped around the dog, but these were too big to be dogs. Instantly she knew what had happened to his wife and daughter. Chloe stepped away so she didn’t have to see it anymore, and then she had a thought. They wouldn’t leave them unattended, would they? She became much more nervous and started cautiously making her way from the room. She started to hear the ticking noises outside again and her hands started to shake. She took a deep breath and kept walking.
She walked into the main part of the store and saw a dozen or so stingers crawling in through one of the broken windows. She gasped, then in a hurry ducked back into the breakroom. Her whole body was shaking as she stood there listening to them scurrying around the store. Then after a minute one walked into the breakroom didn’t see her and disappeared into the bunk room. Then another went through, then another, then another, then another, and soon all but one had passed through. Her whole body was trembling when finally it walked through. This one was walking more slowly and looking around much more than the others, and suddenly its small beady eyes met hers. Scre… Rat-a-tatata! Four quick bullets cut through the stinger. All four hit it right in the head. She had a small feeling of triumph then Screech! The other stingers started running into the room. She hurried out in such a rush she didn’t watch where she was stepping and slipped on a piece of glass.
Smack! Her helmet slammed into the ground and then the rest of her. She watched them hurriedly crawl towards her. She tried to get a shot but they were just too fast. Then she felt a sharp pain in her leg. One of the stingers had sunk their stinger into her calf. Another was about to sting before she made her move. She grabbed a large piece of glass and stabbed it into the one on her leg, and then quickly stuck the shard into the other one that was about to sting her. Then she quickly stood up. Her body was starting to feel heavy and she was getting a little loopy. The other stingers were screeching and running toward her. Rat-a-tatatatata! She shot 10 rounds into the remaining nine stingers. Seven exploded when the bullet made contact, another got three legs blown off, the last wasn’t hit, and before she could shoot again it had lodged its stinger in her boot. She stopped for a second realizing that the stinger hadn’t actually pierced her foot then Rat-a-tat! She shot two bullets into the thing and then pulled it off her foot.
Her adrenaline was wearing off and the venom was doing its work fast. Her eyes were starting to close and she had to concentrate just to keep them open. I need to get somewhere safe, she thought looking around, and then her eyes fell on an intact door.
She locked the door to the women's restroom and then slumped against it as she felt her consciousness begin to slip. All she could think of was me hoping that I was okay, and hoping that she’d be able to see me again. Then finally she blacked out.
Her eyes fluttered open to see she was in the same place she’d passed out. There was a small puddle of blood around her calf. She weakly reached over and touched the wound. It wasn’t bleeding any more. I must’ve been out for a while. She thought, gingerly beginning to put weight on her leg. It hurt but she could walk. Click, she unlocked the bathroom door, raised the gun, and opened the door. She was nervous, worried that maybe more of them had come while she was out. It didn’t look like too much time had passed, and even more importantly there were no stingers. She looked over and saw her footprints were still visible through the heavily falling snow. Good not much time must have passed, she thought. Then she pulled out the phone and called Gretchen.
Bzzz…
“Gretchen, I got stung and passed out. What time is it?” She asked.
Gretchen’s relieved voice cut through the phone: “Oh Chloe thank goodness, it’s 2:42. You left around 12.”
Day 13
I woke up to giggling and laughter. I sat up and looked at the doorway and on the other side I could hear the boys quietly playing together. I moved the covers and tried to move my legs, but instantly daggers of pain went up my right leg. I wanted to do it more slowly but nothing seemed to help.
“Chloe!” I called and immediately heard something clatter upstairs followed by fast footsteps into the basement.
In a second Chloe had sprinted into the room and was on top of me giving me a huge hug. She pulled away and gave me one of her pretty little smiles.
“How are you feeling?” She asked.
My stomach growled and that answered her question.
“You’ve been asleep for almost two days, no wonder you’re hungry.” She said, I froze and looked over at the clock, but nothing showed on it. It was just a blank black screen.
“When did the power go out?” I asked, turning back toward her.
“Not long after you fell asleep.” She said, “We put as much food as we could into coolers, but most of what was in the fridge and freezer has gone bad.”
Her face was sad and grim. I reached for her hand with my good hand and squeezed it.
“We’ll get through this just like everything else. We’ll make it through if we stick together.” I told her starting to realize how hoarse I sounded.
She smiled then looked up at me again: “I’ll go get you some food… and a water bottle.” She said walking back out of the room.
I lay there in deep thought when Alan poked his head in.
“Uncle, are you okay?” He asked, sitting down on the foot of the bed.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, smiling at him.
He smiled back, “Uncle you’ve got a Lego hand now.” He yelled pointing to my left hand.
I looked at my hand and saw the way they wrapped it did look like a Lego hand.
“Ha… yeah I suppose so.” I chuckled, Alan nodded and disappeared into the hallway.
A few minutes later Chloe appeared in the doorway with a plate and Mom and Gretchen tailed her.
“Sweety, are you ok?” My mom asked, walking over to the bedside and putting her hand on my forehead.
“Yes Mom I’m ok, I’m as ok as I can be right now,” I told her.
“Well I’m glad you’re ok,” She said, hugging me.
“Me too,” Gretchen added, hugging me.
After a minute they broke away and Chloe gave me my plate. It was some dry cereal and a piece of toast.
“Sorry… that’s all I could scrape together.” She said her expression was sad.
“How much is left?” I asked her.
“A few days maybe, the water situation is even worse though,” She said grimly.
I felt a crushing sense of defeat at that.
“We’re going to need to do something now,” Gretchen said, “Before we can’t do anything.”
“Agreed, but what? There is no chance of leaving without a snow plow.” I grumbled, becoming more disheartened.
“What if we had a snow plow?” Chloe asked.
“What?” Me and Gretchen asked.
“I mean, they keep it at the tractor place just a mile away. We could get the snow plow.” She suggested a hint of hope in her eyes.
“I don’t think we’ll all fit. Let alone supplies.” I told her.
“So then we bring two vehicles,” She said, “One or two of us go to the place, get the snow plow, and come back to the others in the other vehicle and follow behind.”
It was actually a pretty good plan, but it was still wishful thinking. They had a lot of variables on that.
“That might work, but it will take time and we don’t exactly have time,” I said.
“Well then let's get some more time. We might be able to find more food in other homes,” My mom said.
“Yes, in theory, that would work, but we don’t have two people to go,” I said.
“I’m out of commission, Gretchen isn’t leaving her boys, and not in a million years am I letting you go, Mom,” I argued.
“She can handle herself, she did the other day,” Mom argued back.
“What?... no I was with her…” I turned toward Chloe in confusion.
I saw a guilty look on her face and she told me that she’d gone to the store on the 11th day after they were done treating me.
I pulled her into a tight hug and whispered in her ear: “If you do that again I will use whatever force necessary to make your stay here.”
She looked at me, her eyes darkening: “Joey if I don’t go, we will starve. I’m terrified too but if that is what needs to be done I’ll do it.”
“I… I… I don’t want to lose you.” I sputtered out.
Her face turned red before she said: “I don’t want to lose you either, or any of you guys and that's why I need to go.”
I finally relented, Gretchen and my mom left the room, and Chloe sat and chatted with me while I ate my mediocre breakfast.
She perked up and said, “Joey I need to show you something.”
She got up and helped me get out of bed. Getting out wasn’t that hard unless I had to move my left leg or arm. Once I was standing she helped me over to the restroom and then helped me sit down.
“What am I supposed to be looking at?” I asked, looking around the bathroom.
“This,” She said, pulling the shower curtain open and revealing what was inside.
Lying inside the tub was the body of the dog bug creature.
“Why the heck did you bring that in?” I asked.
“Aren’t you curious what it is?” She asked, an almost crazed look in her eyes.
“Fair, I am curious,” I said. “Found anything out so far?” I then asked.
“Well a no, not yet,” She said looking disappointed now, “I just know it isn’t anything science knows of.”
“Nothing, nothing interesting?” I inquired.
“Well yes there are interesting things,” She said, “Like look at this.”
She grabbed a knife covered in yellowish-green blood and used it to open a previously cut incision into the body. I looked inside and saw something quite strange. This thing still had an endoskeleton.
“Nothing that we know of on earth has an endo and exoskeleton, and I honestly don’t know why an animal would have both.” She said looking up at me.
“Hmm… mind if I take a look?” I asked.
She nodded and I moved over and took the knife with my right hand. I used the knife to hold open the incision and I looked at the bone. It looked normal but I was suspicious so I set the knife down, reached in, and yanked the femur I’d been looking at out. The femur was the size it should’ve been for a normal dog, but for this creature, it was extremely undersized.
“Just as I thought,” I said, looking over at her.
“Can you explain to me what it is that you just figured out?” She asked, very confused.
“Look how small this femur is, it should be double the size for this creature, but it is the adequate size for a normal dog. The way I figure this is that during the metamorphosis that changed the dog into this thing the bones were not destroyed or changed. That’s why they are still there but not the right size.” I explained holding the bone up to her.
“I suppose that your theory makes sense,” She said after a short pause.
Day 14
Chloe sat on the bed strapping on the extra gear I was making her take. I knew I couldn’t stop her from going so I decided I would make her as safe as possible. I dug through old boxes and found my dad's old Kevlar vests. There were two so I cut one up to make guards for her arms and legs. Then I made her put on an extra coat to add one more layer of protection, as for other parts I agreed that the motorcycle helmet was the best helmet we had so she put that on.
Now she was sitting on the bed with the helmet sitting next to her while she was loading her weapons. She was bringing the semi-automatic and the sniper rifle with extra ammo for each. She also had a hunting knife strapped to her belt saying it would’ve come in handy last time. I looked at her and gave her a tight hug.
“If you don’t come back I’ll find you and teach you a lesson.” I jokingly threatened her.
She let out a giggle, “I’ll try my best.”
Again she made her outside into the blizzard. It raged on around her as it had been for days. She had to climb the almost four-foot-tall pile of snow before she could really start exploring. They’d assumed that the people who had left town wouldn’t have much food in their homes, so she planned to hit Carl’s house and the Garrison’s house today. Then check out a few other houses the next day, but right now she had to focus on simply taking the next step because anytime she stepped wrong she’d sink further into the snow. Slowly through the whipping wind and freezing snow, she walked. It was exhausting especially with her still being sore from a couple of days ago, but she continued despite the pain and weather. Despite it all she kept taking step after step after step, and the whole time the blizzard's icy claws were digging into her.
Eventually, she saw the destroyed store and walked past it, her eyes eyeing the shattered windows for any movement but nothing happened. She continued onward knowing that Carl’s house was now only a block away. She walked carefully and precisely trying not to step in the wrong place. Then she saw it. Carl’s house was a small colonial-style two-story home with a big wrap-around porch, but now it looked horrible. The door was ripped out of its hinges and two or three windows were shattered. She slid down a short snowy slope and onto the porch. Crack! One of the wooden planks that made the porch broke from under her foot and her foot slipped down. She pulled it out of the hole and slowly walked into his house.
There was a trail of snow leading in from the fallen door almost like a carpet leading her into this place. It was horrible on the inside. It reminded her of the store. Furniture was thrown every which way, some bearing deep gashes. The closest door to her had a hole going straight through it. She walked over a vast sea of shattered glass and turned into the kitchen. The granite countertops had been ripped from their places and shattered on the tiled floor. A large gash was in the door of the now fallen fridge. She walked over and kneeled down near the fridge, ripping open one of the doors. As she suspected, everything in there was frozen solid. Sitting in there was cheese, deli meat, assorted fruits and vegetables, shattered glasses of condiments, and two steaks. She grabbed everything and stuffed it all into one of the duffel bags she’d brought. Then she saw a loaf of bread lying on the ground near her and grabbed that too. She stood up and looked around the kitchen. She noticed a box of pasta sitting next to a pot on the stove. The box was full, so she grabbed it. The pot was partly melted onto the stove and frozen tomato sauce sat inside.
The picture of what had happened began to emerge in her head. Carl had likely been walking home from the store when it attacked. It chased him inside, breaking down the door and destroying everything in its path. His wife, Greta, had been making spaghetti for dinner when it happened. He ran into the kitchen and grabbed his wife with the beast following him. It destroyed the kitchen as it chased them.
Chloe pushed those thoughts from her head and opened their pantry to see if there was more food. There were lots of boxes but her eyes fell on the cans that lined the bottom of the pantry. There were dozens of them, probably a hundred or two cans. She kneeled and started eagerly grabbing the cans and putting them in the duffel bag. She even took out the cheese and pasta to make for more room.
She stopped her eager collecting when she heard a slight ticking noise. Stingers she thought and then pulled her knife from her belt in preparation. The ticking was slight and distant. It probably just walked in, she thought. With the ticking, she heard the slight creaking of the wood floor in the hall as it approached the kitchen. Then a scraping tapping sound as it began walking on the tiles. She gripped the knife tightly and got ready to stab the thing. Scr…! The stinger managed to give off a faint screech before the sharp hunting knife pierced its windpipe. She yanked the knife out of its neck severing the head from the body. Then she resheathed the knife and quietly got back to what she’d been doing. She didn’t stop until the bag was bulging then she zipped it closed and heaved it under her arm. It was heavy but she wasn’t weak.
She walked over to the front door and set the duffel bag next to it. She wanted to check out the rest of the house before she left.
She crept down the hall and into the master bedroom. It was intact, everything looked right and nothing was broken. She walked over to the dresser and started going through the drawers. Darn, just clothes. She thought as she dug her hands in shuffling the clothes around. She opened the drawer and start thrashing around the clothes when she felt something hard. She pulled a box of ammo out of the drawer. It was for the revolver she looked to see how much but it was empty.
Almost every stair on the way upstairs bore scratches and one or two were cracked. They creaked so loud she began to worry that the noise would get the stinger’s attention but nothing came. Then finally she arrived upstairs. The second floor of their house was composed of two rooms, a restroom, and his daughter Lacy’s bedroom. The bedroom door and a dresser lay on the room floor scratched and broken. The rest of the room was torn apart. The bed was shredded and a mirror lay shattered on the ground. Her eyes fell to the window which was propped open.
The rest of their story seemed to fall into place. Carl and Greta ran upstairs chased by the hound, and into Lacy’s room. They barricaded the door as the creature tried to get it, and then they all quickly slipped out of the window onto the porch roof and then to the ground. They ran to the store and bunkered there. The creature searched the whole shop but couldn’t find them. Then later the hound came back and Carl went to fight it. He told Greta and Lacy to hide in a stall and made his way to the main part of the shop. There he was killed and then dragged into the shower stall to be eaten, and at some point during that time the stingers and slugs got to Lacy and Greta.
She shivered, they’d tried so hard but it still got to them. Maybe if he’d had more bullets he could’ve survived. Thinking of the empty box and the two shots that had woken them that night.
She walked out of the bedroom and back downstairs. She found her eyes wandering around the destroyed first floor again, and it struck her that something bigger had to have done this. There was no way the deer-sized hound would have destroyed this much. She hurried over into the kitchen again and looked at the gash in the fridge. That’s too big. Way too big! She thought looking at the huge gash. She started to think about the store and the same inconsistencies began to appear in the memories. All the damage, the claw marks, the strength, it was all too much, too big, there was no way the hound had done this.
As she was thinking she noticed a doorway she hadn’t been through. Next to her was the doorway to the basement stairs with the door wide open. She peaked down and saw light down there, not much probably from a window, but it was something.
Creak! Her first step of descent was loud and made her worry again that something would hear her. She stopped and listened, but nothing. So as carefully as she could she continued. Every step was as loud as the first and every step made her jump in her skin and wait for something to happen. But after what seemed like ages she arrived at the bottom.
The basement was large with two spare bedrooms and a large storage room. She slowly walked down the hall looking into the bedrooms on both sides of her. They were bare with nothing much more than beds, so she walked forward and into the main storage room.
The storage room had large shelving units across the whole room. The shelves were partially filled with labeled boxes. She walked over to one shelf and started reading the labels. Christmas, no, I don't need that. Halloween, not that. Games, nope. Sports could be useful. She thought as she grabbed the heavy crate and set it out in front of her. She grabbed the latches on either side, undoing them and popping the lid off.
Suddenly a ripping sound erupted from another part of the basement. The ripping had a sort of wet sound to it. Chloe started to walk over to the sound far too curious not to. Screech! It came from the same direction as the ripping sound. She got the gun ready and then jumped from around a shelf not facing what was making the sound. She watched one of those hound things fully emerge from a cocoon and look over at her. A chill ran down her spine as its four eyes met hers; the two to the left were icy blue and the two to the right were dark brown. This one was also slightly smaller but much stockier than the other. Rat-a-tatatata! She released a quick barrage of bullets hoping to stop the disgusting thing, but it just started charging for her. Quickly she moved to the other side of the shelving and pushed it down. Her whole body was shaking, but she had to keep calm and keep fighting. The hound howled in pain and started cracking through the wooden shelf to get to her. She took this time to aim a good shot at its face. Rat-a-tat! She shot two quick bullets into its face. One sunk into its exoskeleton the other buried itself into one of its eyes. SCREECH!!!!! It broke through the shelf and made a quick dive toward her. It pinned her to the ground, knocking her gun away in the process. It sunk its jaws into the helmet and it started to break and crack. She started to cry. This thing was going to eat through her helmet then her face, but during this moment of panic she remembered something. She pulled the knife from her belt and stabbed it into the hound's semi-exposed underbelly. It screeched again in pain so she stabbed again. She then shoved the hurt thing off of her and dove for the gun. She felt one of its praying mantis talons slash her vest and then her upper leg, so she turned around and fired. Rat-a-tatata! She shot it four more times, one hitting its forehead, the second hitting its mouth, the third mouth as well, and the fourth badly damaged its lower jaw. Its face was covered in yellow-greenish blood and it was throwing up blood onto the floor. Just as she thought it might be dying it made a quick sprint toward her. It bit her right knee, its teeth sinking in and actually managing to make her bleed. But then crash! It shoved forward and caused her to fall on top of it. Not having a good shot she grabbed the knife and started stabbing anywhere she could until it finally stopped fighting.
She lay there catching her breath until finally she stood up. Her vision was disrupted by the cracks in the helmet’s visor. She tore the helmet off and threw it down onto the dying hound. Even as it lay there it still tried to get toward her and attack her. She thought about executing it but decided that would just be a waste of a bullet and in a weird way she found its attempts to attack entertaining.
The sports crate she’d opened earlier didn’t have much use. It contained a few balls and two or three different types of rackets. She continued looking through the shelves until she found a box labeled camping. She slid it off the shelf and onto the floor, undid the latches, and popped the lid off. Inside the box were all sorts of goodies. At the top of the box were two big mummy sleeping bags. She pulled those out to see fire starters, water purifiers, bug spray, sunscreen, a small tent, utensils, pots and pans, and a large hatchet. Excitedly she grabbed her other duffel bag and moved everything from the crate into it.
She heaved the duffel bag under her arm and carried it back upstairs. She set it next to the other and turned around. She wanted to check one more place before she left the house. She walked across the house and to the backdoor pushing it open and looking outside. In their backyard half buried in snow was a shed. She hurried over to the shed through the deep snow. The doors were almost completely covered in snow and she knew she wouldn't be spending the whole day shoveling. Luckily there was a small window near the top of the shed. She gave it one good kick and the window popped open. She slid through the hole and dropped down into the shed.
The shed was small with very little inside. There was a lawn mower and a few tools but that was it. The one thing that did catch her eye was a small wooden sled with a rope tied to the front. She picked it up thinking how much easier it would make carrying the bags.
Chloe carefully shoved the sled through the window frame and then squeezed through herself. She carried the sled into the house, used tape to keep the bags secure on it, and then started pulling the sled back towards home. Carl’s house was near the top of a small hill, so for a short couple of seconds, she rode the sled as it slid down the icy slope. It made her feel like a little kid and she wished it would have lasted longer.
After a long walk through the blizzard she arrived home tired and her face feeling like it was freezing off. Gretchen hugged her the moment she walked in.
“Are you ok? We thought we heard gunshots.” She said a little worried.
“You did… I had to kill another hound thing. Just like the one in the tub. The armor worked like a charm though, I hardly felt its bite.” Chloe said motioning to the rip in her pants around the knee.
“Oh shoot you bleeding,” Gretchen said looking at her leg.
Chloe looked down to see a cut on her thigh and a few small nicks on her knee.
I sat in bed. I'd just heard Chloe come in and I waited patiently for her to come down. After a couple of minutes, I heard footsteps come downstairs and start creeping down the hall. Then I saw her face poke in from around the door. She smiled and walked in when she saw I was awake.
“Hi babe, how are you feeling?” She asked, taking a seat next to me.
“I mean my hand still hurts like heck, but yeah I’m fine.” I joked.
She smiled, “Seriously though, are you feeling alright?” She asked.
“I’m feeling fine,” I lied trying to get her to stop worrying.
“I want to hear about everything that happened,” I said sitting up.
So she told me everything that happened, even her theory on what exactly happened to Carl and his family.
“Did they have a dog?” She asked me after finishing her story.
“Yeah… a pitbull I think,” I replied, trying my best to remember the odd times when Carl talked about his dog.
“That explains it, that hound was a lot stockier than the one you shot.” She said, “Also it destroyed the helmet so I need a new one before I go to the Garrison’s house.”
I gave her a worried look, “Do you need to go?” I asked.
“YES!” She insisted, “We don’t know what happened to them, and I’d like to find a little more food.”
“But do we need more food?” I asked, “You got a lot of cans.”
“Joey, this has already been going on for two weeks. Who knows how long it will last? More preparation never hurts.” She argued, sounding a little angry now.
“Ok… Ok… Just be safe,” I told her and gave her a big hug.
Gretchen found an arguably better helmet in the garage, a big metal welding helmet. It fit Chloe almost perfectly, and as a backup, she wore two thick hoods to protect the back of her head. She had a very bad feeling this time, as she stood there by the door she couldn’t help but shake. She wanted someone to come with her, and as big Herman came over to say his goodbyes she had an idea.
She marched through the deep snow with Herman atop the sled she pulled. She’d try to have him follow on foot, but the snow was just too high and he kept getting stuck. But she didn’t care that he was just extra weight because she was just happy that she wasn’t facing this alone. She slowly made her way down the street, the blizzard more relentless than ever. It seemed to her the longer the blizzard continued the stronger it was becoming. The snow continued to pound down on top of her slowly wearing down her will to continue, but it didn’t stop her. She took one step after another after another. She was starting to tire and the pain of the injuries was beginning to wear on her. But every time she seemed to slow Herman would give a little woof, and she would keep on going.
The snow had become so hard to see through that more than an outstretched hand was invisible to her. Her vision was so bad she didn’t know the group of crawlers and slugs were there until she was practically right on top of them
Meanwhile…
“Hey, we should probably start clearing the driveway now,” Gretchen said suddenly to her mom while they both sat at the kitchen table.
“That’s probably a wise idea,” Our mother said with a smile.
Gretchen and Mom began their efforts with large snow shovels. Gretchen did most of the work as Mom had to take frequent breaks. They shoveled and shoveled as the day wore on going over their work with salt so as to not let more snow accumulate. Gretchen was exhausted from the work, but she continued nonetheless. She kept digging ad digging until she heard the shovel scrape concrete then she moved to the next section. Despite the cold, they were both dripping with sweat.
I sat by the window watching them work while the boys played. I so wanted to go help but knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but sit and watch them work. I felt horrible as I watched, and then my mind started thinking of Chloe. I pulled out the walkie and pressed the button to talk.
The first thing Chloe heard was Screech! The stinger was right in front of her clearly just as surprised by her as she was of it. But it wasn’t alone from her restricted view; it looked like there were about 10 stingers and 3 or so slugs.
She tried to raise her gun but they were scattering around far too quickly. Then she heard a ripping noise as one of them drove a stinger into her boot. She pulled out the hunting knife and made quick work of the stinger. Two more stingers were charging straight for her and one was coming from her left. Before she could do anything the snow under the two erupted and they were dragged down into it. She wasn’t able to see what it was and she began to shake as it did the same thing to the one coming from her left. In a sudden panic, she turned around to see the sled empty with a hole in the snow right next to it. She let out a small cry whatever was under the snow had gotten Herman and the stingers, but there was no time for mourning as more of the stingers began coming for her. Again the snow erupted under them but this time she got a better look. Whatever was under the snow was big and white. She got the gun as the thing took out the rest of the slugs and stingers. She assumed it was coming for her next. She hurried and jumped atop the sled so it couldn’t take her down easily. She stood there ready to fight whatever monster thing had gotten everything. Horrible images of twisted spider mole creatures flew through her head. Suddenly the snow next to the sled exploded open and she saw the large white beast jump out of the snow and on top of her. She closed her eyes expecting to feel teeth begin to sink down, but after a second she heard a lapping sound. She opened her eyes to see Herman on top of her licking her helmet. She smiled and let out a laugh.
“Good boy!” She said encouragingly.
Herman was completely covered in snow; he looked more like a polar bear than a dog. She brushed some of it off but didn’t bother to do much. She helped the big dog back onto the sled and continued forward. She walked another block before she finally saw her destination to her right was the Garrison’s large house broken and beaten from obvious attacks. It stood there somehow feeling more eerie than the surrounding houses. She stepped onto the wooden porch and there was a loud creak. Ever so more carefully she and Herman crept across the porch and into the house. If only they’d known what they were about to walk into.
2023.06.09 18:36 luverisaday Missing Kitty
 | Hello All! Our Gustav (Gus) got out without his collar on early this morning (6/9/2023) and we are heartbroken. We live downtown off-campus so it’s a rather busy area. We have no clue where he may have gone but we’d appreciate all the help we can get. He’s a tan/black brindled Tabby cat with a light brown/ tan stomach and a white chin. He’s neutered but his testicles are still there. He’s only about a year old and maybe 20-30 lbs. He was last seen near the Shell/GoCo on the corner of Summit & 17th Ave. Please if you see anything or know anything call 419-889-2100 or 380-710-3103 submitted by luverisaday to Columbus [link] [comments] |
2023.06.09 08:04 Winter-Dark-5051 Dear Sisters, You ARE Desired. Believe It. Know It. Accept It.
I am a black woman, and I am so sick of other black women coming onto the internet and projecting their insecurities onto everyone else. It is beyond embarrassing. It seems that black women--especially American black women--are engrained to believe that they are so undesirable to men that when a man (no matter the race) gives black women a compliment or labels them as their preference, you all find some way to be offended--labelling everything as performative. Stop it! You are feeding into white supremacy by holding onto this belief. Please stop! No one is gaslighting you. You are gaslighting yourself. If you have low self-esteem and are still dealing with racial insecurities, then get off of the internet and go to therapy.
Trust me--you are desired! The first time a white guy hit on me--I was in my early 20s--and, admittedly, I was taken aback because I was insecure and I didn't realize that I was desirable to white men. There were a couple of other white women around that he could have pursued, but he wasn't interested in them--and this man was fine as hell. After getting involved with him, I allowed my insecurities to affect our relationship and I started projecting. I asked him if I was a fetish, and guess what? He was highly offended, and looking back I completely understand why. I was attacking his character, when in reality he just saw me as a sexy women with an amazing vibe. He didn't care about my race. That experience was an eye-opener for me. I grew up in a predominately white area and I was not attractive when I was younger, so guys (especially white guys) were not into me. But as I got older, I grew into my looks and found a personal style that suits me. Now, I get hit on by men of every race and in every country. I remember being hit on by a white guy on an elevator when I was in Asia. He got on and started chatting with me and then told me that I was really pretty. There was actually an Asian women on the elevator too, but he wasn't paying her any attention at all. Now the internet would have you believing that white men always go for Asian women and that they're really not into black women. No, not the case. I lived in Asia for some time and I can not tell you how many times I was told that I was beautiful by the locals or how many times I was complimented on my skin tone. So many other black women can tell you the same thing.
I am so sick of the online debate about colorism, race preferences--it is all bs. I can give examples as to why:
Myth #1: Most black men are attracted to white women.
This has to be the biggest lie perpetuated by mainstream media and stupid people on the internet. Most black men I know aren't attracted to white women at all. They have told me this. They see them as plain and boring and not having a vibe. Even when I attended predominately white schools--both high school and college (and these schools were very, very white), the small population of black guys were mostly into the other black and brown girls. They were not checking for the white girls AT ALL, unless the white girl had a striking feature--like an enormous ass--which was very rare (I only witnessed that one time).
I know a guy on the west coast who has a friend who only dates white women, but he said that this friend is always sending him pictures of black girls and mixed girls. To me, it all makes sense--white women aren't sexually fetishized like Black and Asian women. They're not seen as sexually enticing in general, and I think a lot of times when a man of color solely pursues white women--8 or 9 times out of 10--it's not about the physical attraction. It's about that man wanting to be closer to whiteness due to self-hate and he's using this white woman as a vessel through which he can obtain some sort of privilege or power by marrying her or having offspring with her. A lot of these men still have an affinity towards black women and would not hesitate to get with a fine ass black woman if she gave him the time of day. Like comedian Godfrey said in a DJ Vlad interview once: "You can't beat a fine ass black woman. You can not beat that sh\*."*
I mean look at the passport bros (even though I think those men are trash). Do you see any of these men flying to Europe in droves? No. They're flying to countries with beautiful black women. Even when they travel to countries with a white demographic--like Brazil--they are still choosing black, biracial, and/or melanated women.
Myth #2: Dark skin black women are less desirable than light-skin black women.
Sighhhhhhhhh
I just can't with this one. Personal anecdote: I have a light caramel skin tone and my sister is dark skin--we're only a year apart, so we've always attended school together. Literally all through school, guys would tell me to my face that my sister looks better than me. All. The. Time. Black guys said this to me and they said it to her too. And when we attended predominately white schools, my sister was constantly told that she was pretty. I, on the other hand, never had anyone tell me that I was pretty at those predominately white schools. Like I said earlier, I grew into my looks at a later age. It's not about skin tone. It's about whether you're pretty or not. I've gone out with friends who are darker than me and they have been told that they are beautiful or pretty while I was sitting right next to them. Pretty dark skin girls literally look like walking barbie dolls. Are you kidding me? I know so many light skin women who are hideous. The number of dark skin women who have traveled to Europe and have been complimented on their skin tone...really? To this day, my sister still gets complimented on her dark skin.
Sure some people have preferences, but a preference doesn't exclude everyone else. I have a preference for dark-skin men and I'm not really into the bald look (it gives grandpa vibes), but I think Common is one of the sexiest men alive. I would probably melt if I met him in person.
This belief that so-and-so isn't as popular as so-and-so because she's dark skin is nonsense. I guess that's why diveludo--a tiktok influencer--has 3 mil followers...because she's.....light-skin? No. It's because she's beautiful and sexy as hell, regardless of her skin tone. If you're having a hard time in the dating world, IT IS NOT because you're dark skin. It's because you're unattractive...like I just can't with this bs colorism debate. Next.
Myth #3: Black men (or any man) publicly professing their love for black women is performative.
How? You think it's performative because you don't see yourself as desirable and you are projecting your insecurities onto others. For example, the whole John Boyega/Breakfast Club situation or the viral TikTok videos of white men showing their admiration for black women--some black women's reaction to that was embarrassing. That preference shouldn't shock you. In the past decade, we saw this huge cultural shift in terms of beauty--it went from tall, blonde, and skinny to melanated and curvy. Terms like basic white girl and melanin queen became popular due to this cultural shift and the expansion of social media. Mainstream media no longer controlled the image of blackness and whiteness and I think a lot of people started to see black women outside of the stereotypical images of us in movies, shows, and tv ads. Look at instagram pages like "brwnart" or tumblr pages like "blackbeauties" and tell me that you can't understand why there's a sudden rise in non-black men's attraction to black women--images like that of black women are are all over social media. Stop it.
Step outside of your insecure bubble for 2 seconds and observe society--the cultural appropriation, the trends in music, the global influence of black culture, the sex symbols over the past decade. I have attended PWI's and HBCU's and hands down those HBCU's have the BADDEST females. I don't even know if it's possible for a white woman to be bad if she isn't appropriating blackness in some way. Is it? Is that possible? I know black men in real life who have only dated white women and in the past decade have completely shifted their preference and no longer find white women attractive at all. Sometimes it's about exposure. I have a white passing friend of Mexican descent who said that when growing up, he was only attracted to white women because he lived in a predominately white environment and that he wasn't attracted to black women during that time. When he was in his 20s, he moved to a predominately black area and realized that black women were pretty hot. Ever since then, he's had an attraction to black women (he's attracted to all races now--but you get my point).
Enough of the inferiority complex. Enough of black women talking down on themselves. You wouldn't be so imitated if people thought you were undesirable.
Do you know how many times I've entered a non-black space and had people (men and women) flocking to me? It's because I stand out as a black woman. I have an aura and a style that attracts people to me, and anytime I enter a predominately non-black space (especially a white space), I know that all eyes will be on me. It happens every time. If you have this belief that you are undesirable and are "bottom of the barrel" or whatever foolish things you tell yourself, then that is exactly how people are going to treat you and that is exactly how you are going to see the world.
Stop perpetuating white supremacy. It is time to break that cycle. Stop speaking negatively about yourself. Stop responding to foolishness on the internet. Stop responding to these self-hating black people and racist non-black people who are using the internet as a source to project their trauma. Stop worrying about which celebrity is dating what race. Stop it! Everything doesn't need a response or a reaction. When some of these self-hating black men spew negativity about us, I literally laugh because 1) I know it's coming from a place of pain and 2) I don't need their validation because I literally get approached by every race of men. I don't feel restricted to one group.
If you're dealing with low self-esteem due to racial trauma, then go to therapy--try EMDR therapy or psychedelic therapy. If you're hair is damaged and you're constantly hiding it under weaves and wigs and your hair is thinning, then go on a hair journey or see a PRP specialist. If you're overweight or out of shape, then go on a diet and make exercising a part of your daily routine. If you're suffering from dark spots and hyperpigmentation, then go to a dermatologist and get a chemical peel. If you need to improve your speech or improve your mannerisms, then take a communications class or an etiquette class. If there's something about your features that you don't like, then get non-surgical surgery (there are so many)--there's nothing wrong with that. Find your niche--everyone has a special skill that they are the best at--whether it's math, art, science, writing, makeup, whatever. Think about your favorite subject in school or what you're doing when you don't notice how much time has gone by--hone in out that, nurture it, and turn it into a lucrative career. Do whatever you need to do to become the best version of you inside and out, and experience the power you can have over people when you captivate them with your black beauty. It is MAGICAL.
Now go be a black queen and stop reacting to the internet.
submitted by Winter-Dark-5051 to blackgirls [link] [comments]
Trust me--you are desired! The first time a white guy hit on me--I was in my early 20s--and, admittedly, I was taken aback because I was insecure and I didn't realize that I was desirable to white men. There were a couple of other white women around that he could have pursued, but he wasn't interested in them--and this man was fine as hell. After getting involved with him, I allowed my insecurities to affect our relationship and I started projecting. I asked him if I was a fetish, and guess what? He was highly offended, and looking back I completely understand why. I was attacking his character, when in reality he just saw me as a sexy women with an amazing vibe. He didn't care about my race. That experience was an eye-opener for me. I grew up in a predominately white area and I was not attractive when I was younger, so guys (especially white guys) were not into me. But as I got older, I grew into my looks and found a personal style that suits me. Now, I get hit on by men of every race and in every country. I remember being hit on by a white guy on an elevator when I was in Asia. He got on and started chatting with me and then told me that I was really pretty. There was actually an Asian women on the elevator too, but he wasn't paying her any attention at all. Now the internet would have you believing that white men always go for Asian women and that they're really not into black women. No, not the case. I lived in Asia for some time and I can not tell you how many times I was told that I was beautiful by the locals or how many times I was complimented on my skin tone. So many other black women can tell you the same thing.
I am so sick of the online debate about colorism, race preferences--it is all bs. I can give examples as to why:
Myth #1: Most black men are attracted to white women.
This has to be the biggest lie perpetuated by mainstream media and stupid people on the internet. Most black men I know aren't attracted to white women at all. They have told me this. They see them as plain and boring and not having a vibe. Even when I attended predominately white schools--both high school and college (and these schools were very, very white), the small population of black guys were mostly into the other black and brown girls. They were not checking for the white girls AT ALL, unless the white girl had a striking feature--like an enormous ass--which was very rare (I only witnessed that one time).
I know a guy on the west coast who has a friend who only dates white women, but he said that this friend is always sending him pictures of black girls and mixed girls. To me, it all makes sense--white women aren't sexually fetishized like Black and Asian women. They're not seen as sexually enticing in general, and I think a lot of times when a man of color solely pursues white women--8 or 9 times out of 10--it's not about the physical attraction. It's about that man wanting to be closer to whiteness due to self-hate and he's using this white woman as a vessel through which he can obtain some sort of privilege or power by marrying her or having offspring with her. A lot of these men still have an affinity towards black women and would not hesitate to get with a fine ass black woman if she gave him the time of day. Like comedian Godfrey said in a DJ Vlad interview once: "You can't beat a fine ass black woman. You can not beat that sh\*."*
I mean look at the passport bros (even though I think those men are trash). Do you see any of these men flying to Europe in droves? No. They're flying to countries with beautiful black women. Even when they travel to countries with a white demographic--like Brazil--they are still choosing black, biracial, and/or melanated women.
Myth #2: Dark skin black women are less desirable than light-skin black women.
Sighhhhhhhhh
I just can't with this one. Personal anecdote: I have a light caramel skin tone and my sister is dark skin--we're only a year apart, so we've always attended school together. Literally all through school, guys would tell me to my face that my sister looks better than me. All. The. Time. Black guys said this to me and they said it to her too. And when we attended predominately white schools, my sister was constantly told that she was pretty. I, on the other hand, never had anyone tell me that I was pretty at those predominately white schools. Like I said earlier, I grew into my looks at a later age. It's not about skin tone. It's about whether you're pretty or not. I've gone out with friends who are darker than me and they have been told that they are beautiful or pretty while I was sitting right next to them. Pretty dark skin girls literally look like walking barbie dolls. Are you kidding me? I know so many light skin women who are hideous. The number of dark skin women who have traveled to Europe and have been complimented on their skin tone...really? To this day, my sister still gets complimented on her dark skin.
Sure some people have preferences, but a preference doesn't exclude everyone else. I have a preference for dark-skin men and I'm not really into the bald look (it gives grandpa vibes), but I think Common is one of the sexiest men alive. I would probably melt if I met him in person.
This belief that so-and-so isn't as popular as so-and-so because she's dark skin is nonsense. I guess that's why diveludo--a tiktok influencer--has 3 mil followers...because she's.....light-skin? No. It's because she's beautiful and sexy as hell, regardless of her skin tone. If you're having a hard time in the dating world, IT IS NOT because you're dark skin. It's because you're unattractive...like I just can't with this bs colorism debate. Next.
Myth #3: Black men (or any man) publicly professing their love for black women is performative.
How? You think it's performative because you don't see yourself as desirable and you are projecting your insecurities onto others. For example, the whole John Boyega/Breakfast Club situation or the viral TikTok videos of white men showing their admiration for black women--some black women's reaction to that was embarrassing. That preference shouldn't shock you. In the past decade, we saw this huge cultural shift in terms of beauty--it went from tall, blonde, and skinny to melanated and curvy. Terms like basic white girl and melanin queen became popular due to this cultural shift and the expansion of social media. Mainstream media no longer controlled the image of blackness and whiteness and I think a lot of people started to see black women outside of the stereotypical images of us in movies, shows, and tv ads. Look at instagram pages like "brwnart" or tumblr pages like "blackbeauties" and tell me that you can't understand why there's a sudden rise in non-black men's attraction to black women--images like that of black women are are all over social media. Stop it.
Step outside of your insecure bubble for 2 seconds and observe society--the cultural appropriation, the trends in music, the global influence of black culture, the sex symbols over the past decade. I have attended PWI's and HBCU's and hands down those HBCU's have the BADDEST females. I don't even know if it's possible for a white woman to be bad if she isn't appropriating blackness in some way. Is it? Is that possible? I know black men in real life who have only dated white women and in the past decade have completely shifted their preference and no longer find white women attractive at all. Sometimes it's about exposure. I have a white passing friend of Mexican descent who said that when growing up, he was only attracted to white women because he lived in a predominately white environment and that he wasn't attracted to black women during that time. When he was in his 20s, he moved to a predominately black area and realized that black women were pretty hot. Ever since then, he's had an attraction to black women (he's attracted to all races now--but you get my point).
Enough of the inferiority complex. Enough of black women talking down on themselves. You wouldn't be so imitated if people thought you were undesirable.
Do you know how many times I've entered a non-black space and had people (men and women) flocking to me? It's because I stand out as a black woman. I have an aura and a style that attracts people to me, and anytime I enter a predominately non-black space (especially a white space), I know that all eyes will be on me. It happens every time. If you have this belief that you are undesirable and are "bottom of the barrel" or whatever foolish things you tell yourself, then that is exactly how people are going to treat you and that is exactly how you are going to see the world.
Stop perpetuating white supremacy. It is time to break that cycle. Stop speaking negatively about yourself. Stop responding to foolishness on the internet. Stop responding to these self-hating black people and racist non-black people who are using the internet as a source to project their trauma. Stop worrying about which celebrity is dating what race. Stop it! Everything doesn't need a response or a reaction. When some of these self-hating black men spew negativity about us, I literally laugh because 1) I know it's coming from a place of pain and 2) I don't need their validation because I literally get approached by every race of men. I don't feel restricted to one group.
If you're dealing with low self-esteem due to racial trauma, then go to therapy--try EMDR therapy or psychedelic therapy. If you're hair is damaged and you're constantly hiding it under weaves and wigs and your hair is thinning, then go on a hair journey or see a PRP specialist. If you're overweight or out of shape, then go on a diet and make exercising a part of your daily routine. If you're suffering from dark spots and hyperpigmentation, then go to a dermatologist and get a chemical peel. If you need to improve your speech or improve your mannerisms, then take a communications class or an etiquette class. If there's something about your features that you don't like, then get non-surgical surgery (there are so many)--there's nothing wrong with that. Find your niche--everyone has a special skill that they are the best at--whether it's math, art, science, writing, makeup, whatever. Think about your favorite subject in school or what you're doing when you don't notice how much time has gone by--hone in out that, nurture it, and turn it into a lucrative career. Do whatever you need to do to become the best version of you inside and out, and experience the power you can have over people when you captivate them with your black beauty. It is MAGICAL.
Now go be a black queen and stop reacting to the internet.
2023.06.09 00:51 sandwich_with_a_hat i am sorry
NARRATOR: (Black screen with text; The sound of buzzing bees can be heard) According to all known laws of aviation, : there is no way a bee should be able to fly. : Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. : The bee, of course, flies anyway : because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. BARRY BENSON: (Barry is picking out a shirt) Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. : Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. JANET BENSON: Barry! Breakfast is ready! BARRY: Coming! : Hang on a second. (Barry uses his antenna like a phone) : Hello? ADAM FLAYMAN:
(Through phone) - Barry? BARRY: - Adam? ADAM: - Can you believe this is happening? BARRY: - I can't. I'll pick you up. (Barry flies down the stairs) : MARTIN BENSON: Looking sharp. JANET: Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. BARRY: Sorry. I'm excited. MARTIN: Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. : A perfect report card, all B's. JANET: Very proud. (Rubs Barry's hair) BARRY= Ma! I got a thing going here. JANET: - You got lint on your fuzz. BARRY: - Ow! That's me!
JANET: - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! (Barry flies out the door) JANET: Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! (Barry drives through the hive,and is waved at by Adam who is reading a newspaper) BARRY== - Hey, Adam. ADAM: - Hey, Barry. (Adam gets in Barry's car) : - Is that fuzz gel? BARRY: - A little. Special day, graduation. ADAM: Never thought I'd make it. (Barry pulls away from the house and continues driving) BARRY: Three days grade school, three days high school... ADAM: Those were awkward. BARRY: Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. ADAM== You did come back different. (Barry and Adam pass by Artie, who is jogging) ARTIE: - Hi, Barry!
BARRY: - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. ADAM: - Hear about Frankie? BARRY: - Yeah. ADAM== - You going to the funeral? BARRY: - No, I'm not going to his funeral. : Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. : Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. ADAM: I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. (The car does a barrel roll on the loop-shaped bridge and lands on the highway) : I love this incorporating an amusement park into our regular day. BARRY: I guess that's why they say we don't need vacations. (Barry parallel parks the car and together they fly over the graduating students) Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. (Barry and Adam sit down and put on their hats) : - Well, Adam, today we are men.
ADAM: - We are! BARRY= - Bee-men. =ADAM= - Amen! BARRY AND ADAM: Hallelujah! (Barry and Adam both have a happy spasm) ANNOUNCER: Students, faculty, distinguished bees, : please welcome Dean Buzzwell. DEAN BUZZWELL: Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... : ...9: : That concludes our ceremonies. : And begins your career at Honex Industries! ADAM: Will we pick our job today? (Adam and Barry get into a tour bus) BARRY= I heard it's just orientation. (Tour buses rise out of the ground and the students are automatically loaded into the buses) TOUR GUIDE: Heads up! Here we go.
ANNOUNCER: Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. BARRY: - Wonder what it'll be like? ADAM: - A little scary. TOUR GUIDE== Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco : and a part of the Hexagon Group. Barry: This is it! BARRY AND ADAM: Wow. BARRY: Wow. (The bus drives down a road an on either side are the Bee's massive complicated Honey-making machines) TOUR GUIDE: We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life : to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. : Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. : Our top-secret formula : is automatically color-corrected,
scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured : into this soothing sweet syrup : with its distinctive golden glow you know as... EVERYONE ON BUS: Honey! (The guide has been collecting honey into a bottle and she throws it into the crowd on the bus and it is caught by a girl in the back) ADAM: - That girl was hot. BARRY: - She's my cousin! ADAM== - She is? BARRY: - Yes, we're all cousins. ADAM: - Right. You're right. TOUR GUIDE: - At Honex, we constantly strive : to improve every aspect of bee existence. : These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. (The bus passes by a Bee wearing a helmet who is being smashed into the ground with fly-swatters, newspapers and boots. He lifts a thumbs up but you can hear him groan) : ADAM==
BARRY: You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? ADAM: Like what? Give me one example. (Barry and Adam stop walking and it is revealed to the audience that hundreds of cars are speeding by and narrowly missing them in perfect unison) BARRY: I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. ANNOUNCER: Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. BARRY: Wait a second. Check it out. (The Pollen jocks fly in, circle around and landing in line) : - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! ADAM: - Wow. : I've never seen them this close. BARRY: They know what it's like outside the hive. ADAM: Yeah, but some don't come back. GIRL BEES: - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! (The Pollen Jocks hook up their backpacks to machines that pump the nectar to trucks, which drive away)
LOU LO DUVA: You guys did great! : You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! (Punching the Pollen Jocks in joy) I love it! ADAM: - I wonder where they were. BARRY: - I don't know. : Their day's not planned. : Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. : You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. ADAM== Right. (Barry and Adam are covered in some pollen that floated off of the Pollen Jocks) BARRY: Look at that. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. ADAM: It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. BARRY: Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. (Barry waves at 2 girls standing a little away from them)
ADAM== Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? BARRY: Distant. Distant. POLLEN JOCK #1: Look at these two. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Couple of Hive Harrys. POLLEN JOCK #1: - Let's have fun with them. GIRL BEE #1: It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. BARRY: Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! : He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! (Slaps Adam with his hand to represent his scenario) GIRL BEE #2: - Oh, my! BARRY: - I never thought I'd knock him out. GIRL BEE #1: (Looking at Adam) What were you doing during this? ADAM: Obviously I was trying to alert the authorities. BARRY: I can autograph that.
(The pollen jocks walk up to Barry and Adam, they pretend that Barry and Adam really are pollen jocks.) POLLEN JOCK #1: A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? BARRY: Yeah. Gusty. POLLEN JOCK #1: We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. BARRY: - Six miles, huh? ADAM: - Barry! POLLEN JOCK #2: A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. BARRY: - Maybe I am. ADAM: - You are not! POLLEN JOCK #1: We're going 0900 at J-Gate. : What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? BARRY: I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. (The scene cuts to Barry looking out on the hive-city from his balcony at night) MARTIN:
Hey, Honex! BARRY: Dad, you surprised me. MARTIN: You decide what you're interested in? BARRY: - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. : Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? MARTIN: Son, let me tell you about stirring. : You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. : You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. BARRY: You know, Dad, the more I think about it, : maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. MARTIN: You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? : That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. :
Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! JANET: - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. BARRY: - I'm not trying to be funny. MARTIN: You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! JANET: - You're gonna be a stirrer? BARRY: - No one's listening to me! MARTIN: Wait till you see the sticks I have. BARRY: I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! (Barry's parents don't listen to him and continue to ramble on) MARTIN: Let's open some honey and celebrate! BARRY: Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. : Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! JANET: I'm so proud. (The scene cuts to Barry and Adam waiting in line to get a job) ADAM: - We're starting work today!
BARRY: - Today's the day. ADAM: Come on! All the good jobs will be gone. BARRY: Yeah, right. JOB LISTER: Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Is it still available? JOB LISTER: - Hang on. Two left! : One of them's yours! Congratulations! Step to the side. ADAM: - What'd you get? BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Picking crud out. Stellar! (He walks away) ADAM: Wow! JOB LISTER: Couple of newbies? ADAM: Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! JOB LISTER: Make your choice. (Adam and Barry look up at the job board. There are hundreds of constantly changing panels that contain available or unavailable jobs. It looks very confusing)
ADAM: - You want to go first? BARRY: - No, you go. ADAM: Oh, my. What's available? JOB LISTER: Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. ADAM: - Any chance of getting the Krelman? JOB LISTER: - Sure, you're on. (Puts the Krelman finger-hat on Adam's head) (Suddenly the sign for Krelman closes out) : I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. (Takes Adam's hat off) Wax monkey's always open. ADAM: The Krelman opened up again. : What happened? JOB LISTER: A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. : Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. : Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!
ADAM: Oh, this is so hard! (Barry remembers what the Pollen Jock offered him and he flies off) Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, : humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, : mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? (Adam turns around and sees Barry flying away) : Barry! POLLEN JOCK: All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... ADAM: (Through phone) What happened to you? Where are you? BARRY: - I'm going out. ADAM: - Out? Out where? BARRY: - Out there. ADAM: - Oh, no! BARRY: I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. ADAM:
You're gonna die! You're crazy! (Barry hangs up) Hello? POLLEN JOCK #2: Another call coming in. : If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd : that gets their roses today. BARRY: Hey, guys. POLLEN JOCK #1 == - Look at that. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? LOU LO DUVA: Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. POLLEN JOCK #1: It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. (Puts hand on Barry's shoulder) LOU LO DUVA: (To Barry) Really? Feeling lucky, are you? BEE WITH CLIPBOARD: (To Barry) Sign here, here. Just initial that. : - Thank you. LOU LO DUVA: - OK. : You got a rain advisory today, :
and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. : So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, : hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. : Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. : Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! BARRY: - That's awful. LOU LO DUVA: (Still talking through megaphone) - And a reminder for you rookies, : bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! : All right, launch positions! POLLEN JOCKS: (The Pollen Jocks run into formation) : Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! LOU LU DUVA: Black and yellow! POLLEN JOCKS:
Hello! POLLEN JOCK #1: (To Barry)You ready for this, hot shot? BARRY: Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. POLLEN JOCK's: Wind, check. : - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. : - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. BARRY: Scared out of my shorts, check. LOU LO DUVA: OK, ladies, : let's move it out! : Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! : All of you, drain those flowers! (The pollen jocks fly out of the hive) BARRY: Wow! I'm out! : I can't believe I'm out! : So blue.
: I feel so fast and free! : Box kite! (Barry flies through the kite) : Wow! : Flowers! (A pollen jock puts on some high tech goggles that shows flowers similar to heat sink goggles.) POLLEN JOCK: This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. : Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. : Roses! POLLEN JOCK #1: 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. : Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. (The pollen jock fires a high-tech gun at the flower, shooting tubes that suck up the nectar from the flower and collects it into a pouch on the gun) BARRY: That is one nectar collector! POLLEN JOCK #1== - Ever see pollination up close? BARRY: - No, sir. POLLEN JOCK #1:
(Barry and the Pollen jock fly over the field, the pollen jock sprinkles pollen as he goes) : I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, : a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. BARRY: That's amazing. Why do we do that? POLLEN JOCK #1: That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. BARRY: Cool. POLLEN JOCK #1: I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. could be daisies. Don't we need those? POLLEN JOCK #2: Copy that visual. : Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. POLLEN JOCK #1: Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? POLLEN JOCK #2: Affirmative. (The Pollen jocks land near the "flowers" which, to the audience are obviously just tennis balls) KEN: (In the distance) That was on the line!
POLLEN JOCK #1: This is the coolest. What is it? POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't know, but I'm loving this color. : It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. POLLEN JOCK #1: Yeah, fuzzy. (Sticks his hand on the ball but it gets stuck) POLLEN JOCK #3== Chemical-y. (The pollen jock finally gets his hand free from the tennis ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: Careful, guys. It's a little grabby. (The pollen jocks turn around and see Barry lying his entire body on top of one of the tennis balls) POLLEN JOCK #2: My sweet lord of bees! POLLEN JOCK #3: Candy-brain, get off there! POLLEN JOCK #1: (Pointing upwards) Problem! (A human hand reaches down and grabs the tennis ball that Barry is stuck to) BARRY: - Guys! POLLEN JOCK #2: - This could be bad. POLLEN JOCK #3: Affirmative. (Vanessa Bloome starts bouncing the tennis ball, not knowing Barry is stick to it)
BARRY== Very close. : Gonna hurt. : Mama's little boy. (Barry is being hit back and forth by two humans playing tennis. He is still stuck to the ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: You are way out of position, rookie! KEN: Coming in at you like a MISSILE! (Barry flies past the pollen jocks, still stuck to the ball) BARRY: (In slow motion) Help me! POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't think these are flowers. POLLEN JOCK #3: - Should we tell him? POLLEN JOCK #1: - I think he knows. BARRY: What is this?! KEN: Match point! : You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to EAT IT! (A pollen jock coughs which confused Ken and he hits the ball the wrong way with Barry stuck to it and it goes flying into the city) BARRY:
Yowser! (Barry bounces around town and gets stuck in the engine of a car. He flies into the air conditioner and sees a bug that was frozen in there) BARRY: Ew, gross. (The man driving the car turns on the air conditioner which blows Barry into the car) GIRL IN CAR: There's a bee in the car! : - Do something! DAD DRIVING CAR: - I'm driving! BABY GIRL: (Waving at Barry) - Hi, bee. (Barry smiles and waves at the baby girl) GUY IN BACK OF CAR: - He's back here! : He's going to sting me! GIRL IN CAR: Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! (Barry freezes as well, hovering in the middle of the car) : GRANDMA IN CAR== He blinked! (The grandma whips out some bee-spray and sprays everywhere in the car, climbing into the front seat, still trying to spray Barry) GIRL IN CAR: Spray him, Granny! DAD DRIVING THE CAR: What are you doing?! (Barry escapes the car through the air conditioner and is flying high above
the ground, safe.) BARRY: Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. (Barry sees that storm clouds are gathering and he can see rain clouds moving into this direction) : I gotta get home. : Can't fly in rain. : Can't fly in rain. (A rain drop hits Barry and one of his wings is damaged) : Can't fly in rain. (A second rain drop hits Barry again and he spirals downwards) Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! (WW2 plane sound effects are played as he plummets, and he crash-lands on a plant inside an apartment near the window) VANESSA BLOOME: Ken, could you close the window please? KEN== Hey, check out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. : You see? (Folds brochure resume out) Folds out. (Ken closes the window, trapping Barry inside) BARRY: Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. (Barry tries to fly away but smashes into the window and falls again) : What was that?
(Barry keeps trying to fly out the window but he keeps being knocked back because the window is closed) Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... : Drapes! (Barry taps the glass. He doesn't understand what it is) That is diabolical. KEN: It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. ANDY: What's number one? Star Wars? KEN: Nah, I don't go for that... (Ken makes finger guns and makes "pew pew pew" sounds and then stops) : ...kind of stuff. BARRY: No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. KEN: When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. BARRY: (Looking at the light on the ceiling) There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. (Starts flying towards the lightbulb) : I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. (Barry hits the lightbulb and falls into the dip on the table that the humans are sitting at) KEN:
I predicted global warming. : I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. (Andy dips a chip into the bowl and scoops up some dip with Barry on it and is about to put it in his mouth) : Wait! Stop! Bee! (Andy drops the chip with Barry in fear and backs away. All the humans freak out) : Stand back. These are winter boots. (Ken has winter boots on his hands and he is about to smash the bee but Vanessa saves him last second) VANESSA: Wait! : Don't kill him! (Vanessa puts Barry in a glass to protect him) KEN: You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! VANESSA: Why does his life have less value than yours? KEN: Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? VANESSA: I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. (Vanessa picks up Ken's brochure and puts it under the glass so she can carry Barry back to the window. Barry looks at Vanessa in amazement) KEN:
My brochure! VANESSA: There you go, little guy. (Vanessa opens the window and lets Barry out but Barry stays back and is still shocked that a human saved his life) KEN: I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. VANESSA: Put that on your resume brochure. KEN: My whole face could puff up. ANDY: Make it one of your special skills. KEN: Knocking someone out is also a special skill. (Ken walks to the door) Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. : - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? VANESSA: - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. : (Vanessa tries to close door) KEN== - You could put carob chips on there. VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door but Ken opens it again) KEN: - Supposed to be less calories.
VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door) (Fast forward to the next day, Barry is still inside the house. He flies into the kitchen where Vanessa is doing dishes) BARRY== (Talking to himself) I gotta say something. : She saved my life. I gotta say something. : All right, here it goes. (Turns back) Nah. : What would I say? : I could really get in trouble. : It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. : I can't believe I'm doing this. : I've got to. (Barry disguises himself as a character on a food can as Vanessa walks by again) : Oh, I can't do it. Come on! : No. Yes. No. : Do it. I can't.
: How should I start it? (Barry strikes a pose and wiggles his eyebrows) "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. (Vanessa is about to walk past Barry) Here she comes! Speak, you fool! : ...Hi! (Vanessa gasps and drops the dishes in fright and notices Barry on the counter) : I'm sorry. VANESSA: - You're talking. BARRY: - Yes, I know. VANESSA: (Pointing at Barry) You're talking! BARRY: I'm so sorry. VANESSA: No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. : But I don't recall going to bed. BARRY: Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. VANESSA: This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee!
BARRY: I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, (Pointing to the living room where Ken tried to kill him last night) but they were all trying to kill me. : And if it wasn't for you... : I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. (Vanessa stabs her hand with a fork to test whether she's dreaming or not) : That was a little weird. VANESSA: - I'm talking with a bee. BARRY: - Yeah. VANESSA: I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! BARRY: I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. (Barry turns to leave) VANESSA: - Wait! How did you learn to do that? BARRY: (Flying back) - What? VANESSA: The talking...thing. BARRY:
Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. VANESSA: - That's very funny. BARRY: - Yeah. : Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. : Anyway... VANESSA: Can I... : ...get you something? BARRY: - Like what? VANESSA: I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Coffee? BARRY: I don't want to put you out. VANESSA: It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. : - It's just coffee. BARRY: - I hate to impose. (Vanessa starts making coffee) VANESSA: - Don't be ridiculous!
BARRY: - Actually, I would love a cup. VANESSA: Hey, you want rum cake? BARRY: - I shouldn't. VANESSA: - Have some. BARRY: - No, I can't. VANESSA: - Come on! BARRY: I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. VANESSA: - Where? BARRY: - These stripes don't help. VANESSA: You look great! BARRY: I don't know if you know anything about fashion. : Are you all right? VANESSA: (Pouring coffee on the floor and missing the cup completely) No. (Flash forward in time. Barry and Vanessa are sitting together at a table on top of the apartment building drinking coffee)
: BARRY== He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. : He finally gets there. : He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. : And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. : Why would I marry a watermelon?" (Barry laughs but Vanessa looks confused) VANESSA: Is that a bee joke? BARRY: That's the kind of stuff we do. VANESSA: Yeah, different. : So, what are you gonna do, Barry? (Barry stands on top of a sugar cube floating in his coffee and paddles it around with a straw like it's a gondola) BARRY: About work? I don't know. : I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. VANESSA: I know how you feel.
BARRY: - You do? VANESSA: - Sure. : My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. BARRY: - Really? VANESSA: - My only interest is flowers. BARRY: Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. : Anyway, if you look... (Barry points to a tree in the middle of Central Park) : There's my hive right there. See it? VANESSA: You're in Sheep Meadow! BARRY: Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! VANESSA: No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. BARRY: - Why do girls put rings on their toes? VANESSA: - Why not? BARRY:
ADAM: You did? Was she Bee-ish? : - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! BARRY: - No, no, no, not a wasp. ADAM: - Spider? BARRY: - I'm not attracted to spiders. : I know, for everyone else, it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. : I can't get by that face. ADAM: So who is she? BARRY: She's... human. ADAM: No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. BARRY: - Her name's Vanessa. (Adam puts his head in his hands) ADAM: - Oh, boy. BARRY== She's so nice. And she's a florist! ADAM: Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!
BARRY: We're not dating. ADAM: You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes : with power washers and M-80s! That's one-eighth a stick of dynamite! BARRY: She saved my life! And she understands me. ADAM: This is over! BARRY: Eat this. (Barry gives Adam a piece of the crumb that he got from Vanessa. Adam eats it) ADAM: (Adam's tone changes) This is not over! What was that? BARRY: - They call it a crumb. ADAM: - It was so stingin' stripey! BARRY: And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! : - You know what a Cinnabon is? ADAM: - No. (Adam opens a door behind him and he pulls Barry in)
BARRY: It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. ADAM: Be quiet! BARRY: They heat it up... ADAM: Sit down! (Adam forces Barry to sit down) BARRY: (Still rambling about Cinnabons) ...really hot! (Adam grabs Barry by the shoulders) ADAM: - Listen to me! : We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! BARRY== Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? ADAM: There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! : You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! BARRY: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEE: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEES AND ADAM: Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee! (Flash forward in time; Barry is laying on a raft in a pool full of honey. He is wearing sunglasses) JANET: There he is. He's in the pool. MARTIN: You know what your problem is, Barry? (Barry pulls down his sunglasses and he looks annoyed) BARRY: (Sarcastic) I gotta start thinking bee? JANET: How much longer will this go on? MARTIN: It's been three days! Why aren't you working? (Puts sunglasses back on) BARRY: I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. MARTIN: What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! JANET: Would it kill you to make a little honey? (Barry rolls off the raft and sinks into the honey pool) : Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. : Martin, would you talk to him? MARTIN:
Barry, I'm talking to you! (Barry keeps sinking into the honey until he is suddenly in Central Park having a picnic with Vanessa) (Barry has a cup of honey and he clinks his glass with Vanessas. Suddenly a mosquito lands on Vanessa and she slaps it, killing it. They both gasp but then burst out laughing) VANESSA: You coming? (The camera pans over and Vanessa is climbing into a small yellow airplane) BARRY: Got everything? VANESSA: All set! BARRY: Go ahead. I'll catch up. (Vanessa lifts off and flies ahead) VANESSA: Don't be too long. (Barry catches up with Vanessa and he sticks out his arms like ana irplane. He rolls from side to side, and Vanessa copies him with the airplane) VANESSA: Watch this! (Barry stays back and watches as Vanessa draws a heart in the air using pink smoke from the plane, but on the last loop-the-loop she suddenly crashes into a mountain and the plane explodes. The destroyed plane falls into some rocks and explodes a second time) BARRY: Vanessa! (As Barry is yelling his mouth fills with honey and he wakes up, discovering that he was just day dreaming. He slowly sinks back into the honey pool) MARTIN: - We're still here.
JANET: - I told you not to yell at him. : He doesn't respond to yelling! MARTIN: - Then why yell at me? JANET: - Because you don't listen! MARTIN: I'm not listening to this. BARRY: Sorry, I've gotta go. MARTIN: - Where are you going? BARRY: - I'm meeting a friend. JANET: A girl? Is this why you can't decide? BARRY: Bye. (Barry flies out the door and Martin shakes his head) : JANET== I just hope she's Bee-ish. (Fast forward in time and Barry is sitting on Vanessa's shoulder and she is closing up her shop) BARRY: They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? VANESSA: To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream!
: Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. BARRY: A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? VANESSA: No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? BARRY: It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. VANESSA: Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. BARRY: TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! VANESSA: You don't have that? BARRY: We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. VANESSA: Oh, my. (A human walks by and Barry narrowly avoids him) PASSERBY: Dumb bees! VANESSA: You must want to sting all those jerks. BARRY: We try not to sting.
It's usually fatal for us. VANESSA: So you have to watch your temper (They walk into a store) BARRY: Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, : write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: : Anger, jealousy, lust. (Suddenly an employee(Hector) hits Barry off of Vanessa's shoulder. Hector thinks he's saving Vanessa) VANESSA: (To Barry) Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? (Barry is getting up off the floor) BARRY: Yeah. VANESSA: (To Hector) - What is wrong with you?! HECTOR: (Confused) - It's a bug. VANESSA: He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! (Vanessa hits Hector across the face with the magazine he had and then hits him in the head. Hector backs away covering his head) Barry: What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? (Vanessa sets Barry back on her shoulder)
VANESSA: Yeah, it was. How did you know? BARRY: It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. VANESSA: You've really got that down to a science. BARRY: - Oh, we have to. I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. VANESSA: - I'll bet. (Barry looks to his right and notices there is honey for sale in the aisle) BARRY: What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? (Barry looks at all the brands of honey, shocked) How did this get here? Cute Bee, Golden Blossom, : Ray Liotta Private Select? (Barry puts his hands up and slowly turns around, a look of disgust on his face) VANESSA: - Is he that actor? BARRY: - I never heard of him. : - Why is this here? VANESSA: - For people. We eat it. BARRY:
You don't have enough food of your own?! (Hector looks back and notices that Vanessa is talking to Barry) VANESSA: - Well, yes. BARRY: - How do you get it? VANESSA: - Bees make it. BARRY: - I know who makes it! : And it's hard to make it! : There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! VANESSA: - It's organic. BARRY: - It's our-ganic! VANESSA: It's just honey, Barry. BARRY: Just what?! : Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! : You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! :
And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. : I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! (Flash forward in time; Barry paints his face with black strikes like a soldier and sneaks into the storage section of the store) (Two men, including Hector, are loading boxes into some trucks) : SUPERMARKET EMPLOYEE== Hey, Hector. : - You almost done? HECTOR: - Almost. (Barry takes a step to peak around the corner) (Whispering) He is here. I sense it. : Well, I guess I'll go home now (Hector pretends to walk away by walking in place and speaking loudly) : and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. BARRY: You're busted, box boy! HECTOR: I knew I heard something! So you can talk! BARRY: I can talk. And now you'll start talking! : Where you getting the sweet stuff?
Who's your supplier? HECTOR: I don't understand. I thought we were friends. : The last thing we want to do is upset bees! (Hector takes a thumbtack out of the board behind him and sword-fights Barry. Barry is using his stinger like a sword) : You're too late! It's ours now! BARRY: You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! HECTOR: You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! (Barry hits the thumbtack out of Hectors hand and Hector surrenders) Barry: Where is the honey coming from? : Tell me where! HECTOR: (Pointing to leaving truck) Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! (Barry chases after the truck but it is getting away. He flies onto a bicyclists' backpack and he catches up to the truck) CAR DRIVER: (To bicyclist) Crazy person! (Barry flies off and lands on the windshield of the Honey farms truck. Barry looks around and sees dead bugs splattered everywhere) BARRY: What horrible thing has happened here?
: These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now : they're on the road to nowhere! (Barry hears a sudden whisper) (Barry looks up and sees Mooseblood, a mosquito playing dead) MOOSEBLOOD: Just keep still. BARRY: What? You're not dead? MOOSEBLOOD: Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? BARRY: To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. MOOSEBLOOD: I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! ANOTHER BUG PLAYING DEAD: I'm going to Tacoma. (Barry looks at another bug) BARRY: - And you? MOOSEBLOOD: - He really is dead. BARRY: All right. (Another bug hits the windshield and the drivers notice. They activate the windshield wipers) MOOSEBLOOD== Uh-oh! (The windshield wipers are slowly sliding over the dead bugs and wiping
them off) BARRY: - What is that?! MOOSEBLOOD: - Oh, no! : - A wiper! Triple blade! BARRY: - Triple blade? MOOSEBLOOD: Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! (Mooseblood and Barry grab onto the wiper and they hold on as it wipes the windshield) Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! : How much do you people need to see?! (Bangs on windshield) : Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! RADIO IN TRUCK: From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. MOOSEBLOOD: But don't kill no more bugs! (Mooseblood and Barry are washed off by the wipr fluid) MOOSEBLOOD: - Bee! BARRY: - Moose blood guy!! (Barry starts screaming as he hangs onto the antenna) (Suddenly it is revealed that a water bug is also hanging on the antenna.
There is a pause and then Barry and the water bug both start screaming) TRUCK DRIVER: - You hear something? GUY IN TRUCK: - Like what? TRUCK DRIVER: Like tiny screaming. GUY IN TRUCK: Turn off the radio. (The antenna starts to lower until it gets to low and sinks into the truck. The water bug flies off and Barry is forced to let go and he is blown away. He luckily lands inside a horn on top of the truck where he finds Mooseblood, who was blown into the same place) MOOSEBLOOD: Whassup, bee boy? BARRY: Hey, Blood. (Fast forward in time and we see that Barry is deep in conversation with Mooseblood. They have been sitting in this truck for a while) BARRY: ...Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. MOOSEBLOOD: Wow! BARRY: I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. : I mean, that honey's ours. MOOSEBLOOD: - Bees hang tight. BARRY:
BEEKEEPER #2: They make the honey, and we make the money. BARRY: "They make the honey, and we make the money"? (The Beekeeper sprays hundreds of cheap miniature apartments with the smoker. The bees are fainting or passing out) Oh, my! : What's going on? Are you OK? (Barry flies into one of the apartment and helps a Bee couple get off the ground. They are coughing and its hard for them to stand) BEE IN APARTMENT: Yeah. It doesn't last too long. BARRY: Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? BEE IN APPARTMENT: Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. (The apartment room is completely empty except for a photo on the wall of the "queen" who is obviously a man in women's clothes) BARRY: This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! : That's a drag queen! : What is this? (Barry flies out and he discovers that there are hundreds of these structures, each housing thousands of Bees) Oh, no! : There's hundreds of them! (Barry takes out his camera and takes pictures of these Bee work camps. The beekeepers look very evil in these depictions)
Bee honey. : Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! : This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. (Flash forward in time and Barry is showing these pictures to his parents) JANET: Oh, Barry, stop. MARTIN: Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. BARRY: Do these look like rumors? (Holds up the pictures) UNCLE CARL: That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. JANET: How did you get mixed up in this? ADAM: He's been talking to humans. JANET: - What? MARTIN: - Talking to humans?! ADAM: He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! JANET: Make out? Barry!
BARRY: We do not. ADAM: - You wish you could. MARTIN: - Whose side are you on? BARRY: The bees! UNCLE CARL: (He has been sitting in the back of the room this entire time) I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. JANET: Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? BARRY: I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! : Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked : your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. JANET: I remember that. BARRY: What right do they have to our honey? : We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!
ADAM: Even if it's true, what can one bee do? BARRY: Sting them where it really hurts. MARTIN: In the face! The eye! : - That would hurt. BARRY: - No. MARTIN: Up the nose? That's a killer. BARRY: There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. (Flash forward a bit in time and we are watching the Bee News) BEE NEWS NARRATOR: Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. BEE PROTESTOR: No more bee beards! BEE NEWS NARRATOR: With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. : Weather with Storm Stinger. : Sports with Buzz Larvi. : And Jeanette Chung. BOB BUMBLE: - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. JEANETTE CHUNG:
Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. KEN: But it's our yogurt night! VANESSA: (Holding door open for Ken) Bye-bye. KEN: (Yelling) Why is yogurt night so difficult?! (Ken leaves and Vanessa walks over to Barry. His workplace is a mess) VANESSA: You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! BARRY: Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. ADAM: - Frosting... - How many sugars? ==BARRY== Just one. I try not to use the competition. : So why are you helping me? VANESSA: Bees have good qualities. : And it takes my mind off the shop. : Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. BARRY:
Those are great, if you're three. VANESSA: And artificial flowers. BARRY: - Oh, those just get me psychotic! VANESSA: - Yeah, me too. : BARRY: Bent stingers, pointless pollination. ADAM: Bees must hate those fake things! : Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. : Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. VANESSA: - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. BARRY: - I guess. ADAM: You sure you want to go through with it? BARRY: Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able : to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! (Flash forward in time and we are watching the human news. The camera shows
a crowd outside a courthouse) NEWS REPORTER: It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, : where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, : we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. (We are no longer watching through a news camera) ADAM: What have we gotten into here, Barry? BARRY: It's pretty big, isn't it? ADAM== (Looking at the hundreds of people around the courthouse) I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. BARRY: You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? SECURITY GUARD: Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. (A limousine drives up and a fat man,Layton Montgomery, a honey industry owner gets out and walks past Barry) ADAM: - What's the matter? BARRY: - I don't know, I just got a chill. (Fast forward in time and everyone is in the court) MONTGOMERY: Well, if it isn't the bee team.
(To Honey Industry lawyers) You boys work on this? MAN: All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. JUDGE BUMBLETON: All right. Case number 4475, : Superior Court of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry : is now in session. : Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? MONTGOMERY: A privilege. JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? (Everyone looks closely, they are waiting to see if a Bee can really talk) (Barry makes several buzzing sounds to sound like a Bee) BARRY: I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. JUDGE BUMBLBETON: Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. MONTGOMERY: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, : my grandmother was a simple woman. :
Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right : to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. : If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, : just think of what would it mean. : I would have to negotiate with the silkworm : for the elastic in my britches! : Talking bee! (Montgomery walks over and looks closely at Barry) : How do we know this isn't some sort of : holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? : They could be using laser beams! : Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, : he could be on steroids! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson?
BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. : I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. : It's important to all bees. We invented it! : We make it. And we protect it with our lives. : Unfortunately, there are some people in this room : who think they can take it from us : 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, : you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have : but everything we are! JANET== (To Martin) I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Call your first witness. BARRY: So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden
of Honey Farms, big company you have. KLAUSS VANDERHAYDEN: I suppose so. BARRY: I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! KLAUSS: Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. BARRY: Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. : I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? KLAUSS: (Quietly) - No. BARRY: - I couldn't hear you. KLAUSS: - No. BARRY: - No. : Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, : it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. KLAUSS: They're very lovable creatures.
: Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. BARRY: You mean like this? (The bear from Over The Hedge barges in through the back door and it is roaring and standing on its hind legs. It is thrashing its claws and people are screaming. It is being held back by a guard who has the bear on a chain) : (Pointing to the roaring bear) Bears kill bees! : How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! : Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! JUDGE BUMBLETON: OK, that's enough. Take him away. (The bear stops roaring and thrashing and walks out) BARRY: So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. : - Where have I heard it before? MR. STING: - I was with a band called The Police. BARRY: But you've never been a police officer, have you? STING: No, I haven't. BARRY:
No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example : of bee culture casually stolen by a human : for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. STING: Oh, please. BARRY: Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? : Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. : Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! MONTGOMERY: That's not his real name?! You idiots! BARRY: Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on : your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. RAY LIOTTA: Thank you. Thank you. BARRY: I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome : with a churning inner turmoil
that's ready to blow. RAY LIOTTA: I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? BARRY: Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? : Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't : have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? RAY LIOTTA: Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! BARRY: This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! (Ray Liotta looses it and tries to grab Barry) RAY LIOTTA: Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! JUDGE BUMBLETON: - Order in this court! RAY LIOTTA: - You're all thinking it! (Judge Bumbleton starts banging her gavel) JUDGE BUMBLETON: Order! Order, I say! RAY LIOTTA: - Say it! MAN:
KEN: Do we? BARRY: Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. KEN: (Menacingly) That's just what I was thinking about doing. (Ken reaches for a fork on the table but knocks if on the floor. He goes to pick it up) VANESSA: Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. (Ken quickly rises back up after hearing this but hits his head on the table and yells) BARRY: I'm going to drain the old stinger. KEN: Yeah, you do that. (Barry flies past Ken to get to the bathroom and Ken freaks out, splashing some of the wine he was using to cool his head in his eyes. He yells in anger) (Barry looks at the magazines featuring his victories in court) BARRY: Look at that. (Barry flies into the bathroom) (He puts his hand on his head but this makes hurts him and makes him even madder. He yells again) (Barry is washing his hands in the sink but then Ken walks in) KEN: You know, you know I've just about had it (Closes bathroom door behind him) with your little mind games. (Ken is menacingly rolling up a magazine) BARRY:
(Backing away) - What's that? KEN: - Italian Vogue. BARRY: Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. KEN: It's a lot of ads. BARRY: Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? KEN: That's funny, I just can't seem to recall that! (Ken smashes everything off the sink with the magazine and Barry narrowly escapes) (Ken follows Barry around and tries to hit him with the magazine but he keeps missing) (Ken gets a spray bottle) : I think something stinks in here! BARRY: (Enjoying the spray) I love the smell of flowers. (Ken holds a lighter in front of the spray bottle) KEN: How do you like the smell of flames?! BARRY: Not as much. (Ken fires his make-shift flamethrower but misses Barry, burning the bathroom. He torches the whole room but looses his footing and falls into the bathtub. After getting hit in the head by falling objects 3 times he picks up the shower head, revealing a Water bug hiding under it) WATER BUG: Water bug! Not taking sides!
(Barry gets up out of a pile of bathroom supplies and he is wearing a chapstick hat) BARRY: Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat! This is pathetic! (Ken switches the shower head to lethal) KEN: I've got issues! (Ken sprays Barry with the shower head and he crash lands into the toilet) (Ken menacingly looks down into the toilet at Barry) Well, well, well, a royal flush! BARRY: - You're bluffing. KEN: - Am I? (flushes toilet) (Barry grabs a chapstick from the toilet seat and uses it to surf in the flushing toilet) BARRY: Surf's up, dude! (Barry flies out of the toilet on the chapstick and sprays Ken's face with the toilet water) : EW,Poo water! BARRY: That bowl is gnarly. KEN: (Aiming a toilet cleaner at Barry) Except for those dirty yellow rings! (Barry cowers and covers his head and Vanessa runs in and takes the toilet cleaner from Ken just before he hits Barry) VANESSA: Kenneth! What are you doing?! KEN== (Leaning towards Barry)
You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! VANESSA: We need to talk! (Vanessa pulls Ken out of the bathroom) : He's just a little bee! : And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! KEN: Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? VANESSA: No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! KEN: Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... : My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! VANESSA: Goodbye, Ken. (Ken huffs and walks out and slams the door. But suddenly he walks back in and stares at Barry) : And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners MADE BY MAN! (Ken leaves again and Vanessa leans in towards Barry) VANESSA: I'm sorry about all that. (Ken walks back in again)
KEN: I know it's got an aftertaste! I LIKE IT! (Ken leaves for the last time) VANESSA: I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. : I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. : Are you OK for the trial? BARRY: I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. (Flash forward in time and Barry, Adam, and Vanessa are back in court) MONTGOMERY-- We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. ADAM: Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... (Barry stares at Adam) ...Yeah. LAWYER: Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. MONTGOMERY: Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around : is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. (To lawyer)
: Order, please! (Flash forward in time and we see a human news reporter) NEWS REPORTER: The case of the honeybees versus the human race : took a pointed turn against the bees : yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. (Adam is laying in a hospital bed and Barry flies in to see him) BARRY: - Hey, buddy. ADAM: - Hey. BARRY: - Is there much pain? ADAM: - Yeah. : I... : I blew the whole case, didn't I? BARRY: It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. ADAM: I'd be better off dead. Look at me. (A small plastic sword is replaced as Adam's stinger) They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.
: Look, there's a little celery still on it. (Flicks off the celery and sighs) BARRY: What was it like to sting someone? ADAM: I can't explain it. It was all... : All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! BARRY: ...All right. ADAM: You think it was all a trap? BARRY: Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. : What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. ADAM: What will the humans do to us if they win? BARRY: I don't know. ADAM: I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. BARRY: Adam, they check in, but they don't check out!
ADAM: Oh, my. (Coughs) Could you get a nurse to close that window? BARRY: - Why? ADAM: - The smoke. (We can see that two humans are smoking cigarettes outside) : Bees don't smoke. BARRY: Right. Bees don't smoke. : Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. : That's it! That's our case! ADAM: It is? It's not over? BARRY: Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. : Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. (Flash forward in time and Adam is making a paper boat in the courtroom) ADAM: And assuming you've done step 29 correctly, you're ready for the tub! (We see that the jury have each made their own paper boats after being taught how by Adam. They all look confused) JUDGE BUMBLETON:
Mr. Flayman. ADAM: Yes? Yes, Your Honor! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Where is the rest of your team? ADAM: (Continues stalling) Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. : Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, : and as a result, we don't make very good time. : I actually heard a funny story about... MONTGOMERY: Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs : taken up enough of this court's valuable time? : How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? : They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges : against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. : I move for a complete dismissal
of this entire case! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going : to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. ADAM: But you can't! We have a terrific case. MONTGOMERY: Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? : Show me the smoking gun! BARRY: (Barry flies in through the door) Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? : Here is your smoking gun. (Vanessa walks in holding a bee smoker. She sets it down on the Judge's podium) JUDGE BUMBLETON: What is that? BARRY: It's a bee smoker! MONTGOMERY: (Picks up smoker) What, this? This harmless little contraption? : This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. (Montgomery accidentally fires it at the bees in the crowd and they faint
and cough) (Dozens of reporters start taking pictures of the suffering bees) BARRY: Look at what has happened : to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" : Is this what nature intended for us? : To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines : and man-made wooden slat work camps? : Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? (Barry points to the honey industry owners. One of them is an African American so he awkwardly separates himself from the others) LAWYER: - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! ADAM AND VANESSA: Free the bees! Free the bees! BEES IN CROWD: Free the bees! HUMAN JURY: Free the bees! Free the bees! JUDGE BUMBLETON: The court finds in favor of the bees!
BARRY: Vanessa, we won! VANESSA: I knew you could do it! High-five! (Vanessa hits Barry hard because her hand is too big) : Sorry. BARRY: (Overjoyed) I'm OK! You know what this means? : All the honey will finally belong to the bees. : Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. MONTGOMERY: This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. : You'll regret this. (Montgomery leaves and Barry goes outside the courtroom. Several reporters start asking Barry questions) REPORTER 1#: Barry, how much honey is out there? BARRY: All right. One at a time. REPORTER 2#: Barry, who are you wearing? BARRY: My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants.
(Barry flies outside with the paparazzi and Adam and Vanessa stay back) ADAM: (To Vanessa) - What if Montgomery's right? Vanessa: - What do you mean? ADAM: We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to a man) BUSINESS MAN: Congratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? BARRY: First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. (As Barry is talking we see a montage of men putting "closed" tape over the work camps and freeing the bees in the crappy apartments) Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, : every last drop. (Men in suits are pushing all the honey of the aisle and into carts) We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more (We see a statue of a bear-shaped honey container being pulled down by bees) than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. : We're all aware of what they do in the woods. (We see Winnie the Pooh sharing his honey with Piglet in the cross-hairs of a high-tech sniper rifle) BARRY: (Looking through binoculars)
Wait for my signal. : Take him out. (Winnie gets hit by a tranquilizer dart and dramatically falls off the log he was standing on, his tongue hanging out. Piglet looks at Pooh in fear and the Sniper takes the honey.) SNIPER: He'll have nausea for a few hours, then he'll be fine. (Flash forward in time) BARRY: And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... (Mr. Sting is sitting at home until he is taken out of his house by the men in suits) STING: But it's just a prance-about stage name! BARRY: ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products : and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. (An old lady is mixing honey into her tea but suddenly men in suits smash her face down on the table and take the honey) OLD LADY: Can't breathe. (A honey truck pulls up to Barry's hive) WORKER: Bring it in, boys! : Hold it right there! Good. : Tap it.
(Tons of honey is being pumped into the hive's storage) BEE WORKER 1#: (Honey overflows from the cup) Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! : - I think we need to shut down! =BEE WORKER #2= - Shut down? We've never shut down. : Shut down honey production! DEAN BUZZWELL: Stop making honey! (The bees all leave their stations. Two bees run into a room and they put the keys into a machine) Turn your key, sir! (Two worker bees dramatically turn their keys, which opens the button which they press, shutting down the honey-making machines. This is the first time this has ever happened) BEE: ...What do we do now? (Flash forward in time and a Bee is about to jump into a pool full of honey) Cannonball! (The bee gets stuck in the honey and we get a short montage of Bees leaving work) (We see the Pollen Jocks flying but one of them gets a call on his antenna) LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") We're shutting honey production! : Mission abort. POLLEN JOCK #1: Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. (The Pollen Jocks fly back to the hive)
(We get a time lapse of Central Park slowly wilting away as the bees all relax) BARRY: Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. ADAM: Oh, yeah? BARRY: What's going on? Where is everybody? (The entire street is deserted) : - Are they out celebrating? ADAM: - They're home. : They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. : I heard your Uncle Carl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. BARRY: At least we got our honey back. ADAM: Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? : It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. : This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. :
And now... : Now I can't. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to Vanessa) BARRY: I don't understand why they're not happy. : I thought their lives would be better! : They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. VANESSA: You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? BARRY: - What did you want to show me? (Vanessa takes Barry to the rooftop where they first had coffee and points to her store) VANESSA: - This. (Points at her flowers. They are all grey and wilting) BARRY: What happened here? VANESSA: That is not the half of it. (Small flash forward in time and Vanessa and Barry are on the roof of her store and she points to Central Park) (We see that Central Park is no longer green and colorful, rather it is grey, brown, and dead-like. It is very depressing to look at) BARRY: Oh, no. Oh, my. :
They're all wilting. VANESSA: Doesn't look very good, does it? BARRY: No. VANESSA: And whose fault do you think that is? BARRY: You know, I'm gonna guess bees. VANESSA== (Staring at Barry) Bees? BARRY: Specifically, me. : I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. VANESSA: It's not just flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. BARRY: That's our whole SAT test right there. VANESSA: Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. : And then, of course... BARRY: The human species? : So if there's no more pollination,
: it could all just go south here, couldn't it? VANESSA: I know this is also partly my fault. BARRY: How about a suicide pact? VANESSA: How do we do it? BARRY: - I'll sting you, you step on me. VANESSA: - That just kills you twice. BARRY: Right, right. VANESSA: Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. (Vanessa leaves) BARRY: (To himself) I had to open my mouth and talk. : Vanessa? : Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? (Vanessa is getting into a taxi) VANESSA: To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. :
They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. : It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. BARRY: Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. VANESSA: I know. Me neither. (The taxi starts to drive away) BARRY: Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. : Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? : Roses! : Vanessa! (Barry flies after the Taxi) VANESSA: Roses?! : Barry? (Barry is flying outside the window of the taxi) BARRY: - Roses are flowers! VANESSA: - Yes, they are. BARRY: Flowers, bees, pollen!
VANESSA: I know. That's why this is the last parade. BARRY: Maybe not. Could you ask him to slow down? VANESSA: Could you slow down? (The taxi driver screeches to a stop and Barry keeps flying forward) : Barry! (Barry flies back to the window) BARRY: OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. VANESSA: Yes, it kind of is. BARRY: I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you : with the flower shop. I've made it worse. VANESSA: Actually, it's completely closed down. BARRY: I thought maybe you were remodeling. : But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. VANESSA: I don't want to hear it!
BARRY: All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. : I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. : All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. : - Bees. VANESSA: - Park. BARRY: - Pollen! VANESSA: - Flowers. BARRY: - Re-pollination! VANESSA: - Across the nation! : Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, California. : They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. : Security will be tight. BARRY: I have an idea.
(Flash forward in time. Vanessa is about to board a plane which has all the Roses on board. VANESSA: Vanessa Bloome, FTD. (Holds out badge) : Official floral business. It's real. SECURITY GUARD: Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. =VANESSA== Thank you. It was a gift. (Barry is revealed to be hiding inside the brooch) (Flash back in time and Barry and Vanessa are discussing their plan) BARRY: Once inside, we just pick the right float. VANESSA: How about The Princess and the Pea? : I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! BARRY: Yes, I got it. : - Where should I sit? GUARD: - What are you? BARRY: - I believe I'm the pea. GUARD: - The pea? VANESSA:
It goes under the mattresses. GUARD: - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. VANESSA: You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! : Let's see what this baby'll do. (Vanessa drives the float through traffic) GUARD: Hey, what are you doing?! BARRY== Then all we do is blend in with traffic... : ...without arousing suspicion. : Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are about to get on a plane) SECURITY GUARD: Stop! Security. : - You and your insect pack your float? VANESSA: - Yes. SECURITY GUARD: Has it been in your possession the entire time? VANESSA: - Yes.
SECURITY GUARD: Would you remove your shoes? (To Barry) - Remove your stinger. BARRY: - It's part of me. SECURITY GUARD: I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. (Barry plotting with Vanessa) BARRY: Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are flying on the plane) Can you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! VANESSA: I think this is gonna work. BARRY: It's got to work. CAPTAIN SCOTT: (On intercom) Attention, passengers, this is Captain Scott. : We have a bit of bad weather in New York. : It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. VANESSA: Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. BARRY:
I gotta get up there and talk to them. VANESSA== Be careful. (Barry flies right outside the cockpit door) BARRY: Can I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. (The flight attendant opens the door and walks out and Barry flies into the cockpit unseen) BARRY: Captain, I'm in a real situation. CAPTAIN SCOTT: - What'd you say, Hal? CO-PILOT HAL: - Nothing. (Scott notices Barry and freaks out) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Bee! BARRY: No,no,no, Don't freak out! My entire species... (Captain Scott gets out of his seat and tries to suck Barry into a handheld vacuum) HAL: (To Scott) What are you doing? (Barry lands on Hals hair but Scott sees him. He tries to suck up Barry but instead he sucks up Hals toupee) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Uh-oh. BARRY: - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!
HAL: (Hal doesn't know Barry is on his head) - Who's an attorney? CAPTAIN SCOTT: Don't move. (Scott hits Hal in the face with the vacuum in an attempt to hit Barry. Hal is knocked out and he falls on the life raft button which launches an infalatable boat into Scott, who gets knocked out and falls to the floor. They are both uncounscious.) BARRY: (To himself) Oh, Barry. BARRY: (On intercom, with a Southern accent) Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. : Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? (Vanessa looks confused) (Normal accent) ...And please hurry! (Vanessa opens the door and sees the life raft and the uncounscious pilots) VANESSA: What happened here? BARRY: I tried to talk to them, but then there was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. : Now one's bald, one's in a boat, and they're both unconscious! VANESSA: ...Is that another bee joke? BARRY:
REPORTER: (Talking with Bob Bumble) We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls : with absolutely no flight experience. BOB BUMBLE: Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. BUD: I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. : They've done enough damage. REPORTER: But isn't he your only hope? BUD: Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. : Their wings are too small... BARRY: (Through radio) Haven't we heard this a million times? : "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense."... BOB BUMBLE: - Get this on the air! BEE: - Got it.
BEE NEWS CREW: - Stand by. BEE NEWS CREW: - We're going live! BARRY: (Through radio on TV) ...The way we work may be a mystery to you. : Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. : But let me tell you about a small job. : If you do it well, it makes a big difference. : More than we realized. To us, to everyone. : That's why I want to get bees back to working together. : That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. : We get behind a fellow. : - Black and yellow! BEES: - Hello! (The scene switches and Barry is teaching Vanessa how to fly) BARRY:
Left, right, down, hover. VANESSA: - Hover? BARRY: - Forget hover. VANESSA: This isn't so hard. (Pretending to honk the horn) Beep-beep! Beep-beep! (A Lightning bolt hits the plane and autopilot turns off) Barry, what happened?! BARRY: Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. VANESSA: - That may have been helping me. BARRY: - And now we're not! VANESSA: So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. (The plane plummets but we see Lou Lu Duva and the Pollen Jocks, along with multiple other bees flying towards the plane) Lou Lu DUva: All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! : Move out! (The scene switches back to Vanessa and Barry in the plane) BARRY: Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! (Barry sticks out his arms like an airplane and flys in front of Vanessa's face)
VANESSA: Don't have to yell. BARRY: I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. VANESSA: It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! BARRY: It's not a tone. I'm panicking! VANESSA: I can't do this! (Barry slaps Vanessa) BARRY: Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! VANESSA: (Slaps Barry) You snap out of it. BARRY: (Slaps Vanessa) : You snap out of it. VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! (We see that all the Pollen Jocks are flying under the plane) VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it!
VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! VANESSA: - Hold it! BARRY: - Why? Come on, it's my turn. VANESSA: How is the plane flying? (The plane is now safely flying) VANESSA: I don't know. (Barry's antennae rings like a phone. Barry picks up) BARRY: Hello? LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? (All of the Pollen Jocks are carrying the plane) BARRY: The Pollen Jocks! : They do get behind a fellow. LOU LU DUVA: - Black and yellow. POLLEN JOCKS: - Hello. LOU LU DUVA: All right, let's drop this tin can
on the blacktop. BARRY: Where? I can't see anything. Can you? VANESSA: No, nothing. It's all cloudy. : Come on. You got to think bee, Barry. BARRY: - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. (On the runway there are millions of bees laying on their backs) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. VANESSA: - What? BARRY: - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. : Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. : Bring the nose down. BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! CONTROL TOWER OPERATOR: - What in the world is on the tarmac? BUD: - Get some lights on that!
(It is revealed that all the bees are organized into a giant pulsating flower formation) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: - Vanessa, aim for the flower. VANESSA: - OK. BARRY: Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? LOU LU DUVA: Affirmative! BARRY: Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. : Land on that flower! : Ready? Full reverse! : Spin it around! (The plane's nose is pointed at a flower painted on a nearby plane) - Not that flower! The other one! VANESSA: - Which one? BARRY: - That flower. (The plane is now pointed at a fat guy in a flowered shirt. He freaks out and tries to take a picture of the plane) VANESSA: - I'm aiming at the flower!
BARRY: That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! (The plane hovers over the bee-flower) : Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. : Rotate around it. VANESSA: - This is insane, Barry! BARRY: - This's the only way I know how to fly. BUD: Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? (The plane is unrealistically hovering and spinning over the bee-flower) BARRY: Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! : Just drop it. Be a part of it. : Aim for the center! : Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! : Come on, already. (The bees scatter and the plane safely lands) VANESSA: Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly!
BARRY: - Yes! (Vanessa is about to high-five Barry) No high-five! VANESSA: - Right. ADAM: Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? BARRY: What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! ADAM: - Thank you. BARRY: - But we're not done yet. : Listen, everyone! : This runway is covered with the last pollen : from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. : That means this is our last chance. : We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. : If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say?
: Are we going to be bees, or just Museum of Natural History keychains? BEES: We're bees! BEE WHO LIKES KEYCHAINS: Keychain! BARRY: Then follow me! Except Keychain. POLLEN JOCK #1: Hold on, Barry. Here. : You've earned this. BARRY: Yeah! : I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. (The Pollen Jocks throw Barry a nectar-collecting gun. Barry catches it) Oh, yeah. JANET: That's our Barry. (Barry and the Pollen Jocks get pollen from the flowers on the plane) (Flash forward in time and the Pollen Jocks are flying over NYC) : (Barry pollinates the flowers in Vanessa's shop and then heads to Central Park) BOY IN PARK: Mom! The bees are back! ADAM: (Putting on his Krelman hat) If anybody needs
to make a call, now's the time. : I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! (The bee honey factories are back up and running) (Meanwhile at Vanessa's shop) VANESSA: (To customer) Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Can I help who's next? : Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. (There is a room in the shop where Barry does legal work for other animals. He is currently talking with a Cow) COW: Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! : Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! BARRY: I had no idea. VANESSA: Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? BARRY: Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. MOOSEBLOOD: Sorry I'm late. COW: He's a lawyer too?
MOOSEBLOOD: Ma'am, I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. VANESSA: Have a great afternoon! : Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. BARRY: No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. VANESSA: You're a lifesaver, Barry. Can I help who's next? BARRY: All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. VANESSA: Thank you, Barry! (Ken walks by on the sidewalk and sees the "bee-approved honey" in Vanessa's shop) KEN: That bee is living my life!! ANDY: Let it go, Kenny. KEN: - When will this nightmare end?! ANDY: - Let it all go. BARRY: - Beautiful day to fly. POLLEN JOCK:
submitted by sandwich_with_a_hat to bees [link] [comments]
(Through phone) - Barry? BARRY: - Adam? ADAM: - Can you believe this is happening? BARRY: - I can't. I'll pick you up. (Barry flies down the stairs) : MARTIN BENSON: Looking sharp. JANET: Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. BARRY: Sorry. I'm excited. MARTIN: Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. : A perfect report card, all B's. JANET: Very proud. (Rubs Barry's hair) BARRY= Ma! I got a thing going here. JANET: - You got lint on your fuzz. BARRY: - Ow! That's me!
JANET: - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! (Barry flies out the door) JANET: Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! (Barry drives through the hive,and is waved at by Adam who is reading a newspaper) BARRY== - Hey, Adam. ADAM: - Hey, Barry. (Adam gets in Barry's car) : - Is that fuzz gel? BARRY: - A little. Special day, graduation. ADAM: Never thought I'd make it. (Barry pulls away from the house and continues driving) BARRY: Three days grade school, three days high school... ADAM: Those were awkward. BARRY: Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. ADAM== You did come back different. (Barry and Adam pass by Artie, who is jogging) ARTIE: - Hi, Barry!
BARRY: - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. ADAM: - Hear about Frankie? BARRY: - Yeah. ADAM== - You going to the funeral? BARRY: - No, I'm not going to his funeral. : Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. : Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. ADAM: I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. (The car does a barrel roll on the loop-shaped bridge and lands on the highway) : I love this incorporating an amusement park into our regular day. BARRY: I guess that's why they say we don't need vacations. (Barry parallel parks the car and together they fly over the graduating students) Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. (Barry and Adam sit down and put on their hats) : - Well, Adam, today we are men.
ADAM: - We are! BARRY= - Bee-men. =ADAM= - Amen! BARRY AND ADAM: Hallelujah! (Barry and Adam both have a happy spasm) ANNOUNCER: Students, faculty, distinguished bees, : please welcome Dean Buzzwell. DEAN BUZZWELL: Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... : ...9: : That concludes our ceremonies. : And begins your career at Honex Industries! ADAM: Will we pick our job today? (Adam and Barry get into a tour bus) BARRY= I heard it's just orientation. (Tour buses rise out of the ground and the students are automatically loaded into the buses) TOUR GUIDE: Heads up! Here we go.
ANNOUNCER: Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. BARRY: - Wonder what it'll be like? ADAM: - A little scary. TOUR GUIDE== Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco : and a part of the Hexagon Group. Barry: This is it! BARRY AND ADAM: Wow. BARRY: Wow. (The bus drives down a road an on either side are the Bee's massive complicated Honey-making machines) TOUR GUIDE: We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life : to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. : Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. : Our top-secret formula : is automatically color-corrected,
scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured : into this soothing sweet syrup : with its distinctive golden glow you know as... EVERYONE ON BUS: Honey! (The guide has been collecting honey into a bottle and she throws it into the crowd on the bus and it is caught by a girl in the back) ADAM: - That girl was hot. BARRY: - She's my cousin! ADAM== - She is? BARRY: - Yes, we're all cousins. ADAM: - Right. You're right. TOUR GUIDE: - At Honex, we constantly strive : to improve every aspect of bee existence. : These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. (The bus passes by a Bee wearing a helmet who is being smashed into the ground with fly-swatters, newspapers and boots. He lifts a thumbs up but you can hear him groan) : ADAM==
- What do you think he makes? BARRY:
- Not enough. TOUR GUIDE: Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. (They pass by a turning wheel with Bees standing on pegs, who are each wearing a finger-shaped hat) Barry:
- Wow, What does that do? TOUR GUIDE:
- Catches that little strand of honey : that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. ADAM: (Intrigued) Can anyone work on the Krelman? TOUR GUIDE: Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. : But choose carefully : because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. (Everyone claps except for Barry) BARRY: The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. ADAM:
BARRY: You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? ADAM: Like what? Give me one example. (Barry and Adam stop walking and it is revealed to the audience that hundreds of cars are speeding by and narrowly missing them in perfect unison) BARRY: I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. ANNOUNCER: Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. BARRY: Wait a second. Check it out. (The Pollen jocks fly in, circle around and landing in line) : - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! ADAM: - Wow. : I've never seen them this close. BARRY: They know what it's like outside the hive. ADAM: Yeah, but some don't come back. GIRL BEES: - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! (The Pollen Jocks hook up their backpacks to machines that pump the nectar to trucks, which drive away)
LOU LO DUVA: You guys did great! : You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! (Punching the Pollen Jocks in joy) I love it! ADAM: - I wonder where they were. BARRY: - I don't know. : Their day's not planned. : Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. : You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. ADAM== Right. (Barry and Adam are covered in some pollen that floated off of the Pollen Jocks) BARRY: Look at that. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. ADAM: It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. BARRY: Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. (Barry waves at 2 girls standing a little away from them)
ADAM== Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? BARRY: Distant. Distant. POLLEN JOCK #1: Look at these two. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Couple of Hive Harrys. POLLEN JOCK #1: - Let's have fun with them. GIRL BEE #1: It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. BARRY: Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! : He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! (Slaps Adam with his hand to represent his scenario) GIRL BEE #2: - Oh, my! BARRY: - I never thought I'd knock him out. GIRL BEE #1: (Looking at Adam) What were you doing during this? ADAM: Obviously I was trying to alert the authorities. BARRY: I can autograph that.
(The pollen jocks walk up to Barry and Adam, they pretend that Barry and Adam really are pollen jocks.) POLLEN JOCK #1: A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? BARRY: Yeah. Gusty. POLLEN JOCK #1: We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. BARRY: - Six miles, huh? ADAM: - Barry! POLLEN JOCK #2: A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. BARRY: - Maybe I am. ADAM: - You are not! POLLEN JOCK #1: We're going 0900 at J-Gate. : What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? BARRY: I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. (The scene cuts to Barry looking out on the hive-city from his balcony at night) MARTIN:
Hey, Honex! BARRY: Dad, you surprised me. MARTIN: You decide what you're interested in? BARRY: - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. : Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? MARTIN: Son, let me tell you about stirring. : You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. : You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. BARRY: You know, Dad, the more I think about it, : maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. MARTIN: You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? : That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. :
Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! JANET: - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. BARRY: - I'm not trying to be funny. MARTIN: You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! JANET: - You're gonna be a stirrer? BARRY: - No one's listening to me! MARTIN: Wait till you see the sticks I have. BARRY: I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! (Barry's parents don't listen to him and continue to ramble on) MARTIN: Let's open some honey and celebrate! BARRY: Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. : Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! JANET: I'm so proud. (The scene cuts to Barry and Adam waiting in line to get a job) ADAM: - We're starting work today!
BARRY: - Today's the day. ADAM: Come on! All the good jobs will be gone. BARRY: Yeah, right. JOB LISTER: Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Is it still available? JOB LISTER: - Hang on. Two left! : One of them's yours! Congratulations! Step to the side. ADAM: - What'd you get? BEE IN FRONT OF LINE: - Picking crud out. Stellar! (He walks away) ADAM: Wow! JOB LISTER: Couple of newbies? ADAM: Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! JOB LISTER: Make your choice. (Adam and Barry look up at the job board. There are hundreds of constantly changing panels that contain available or unavailable jobs. It looks very confusing)
ADAM: - You want to go first? BARRY: - No, you go. ADAM: Oh, my. What's available? JOB LISTER: Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. ADAM: - Any chance of getting the Krelman? JOB LISTER: - Sure, you're on. (Puts the Krelman finger-hat on Adam's head) (Suddenly the sign for Krelman closes out) : I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. (Takes Adam's hat off) Wax monkey's always open. ADAM: The Krelman opened up again. : What happened? JOB LISTER: A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. : Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. : Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!
ADAM: Oh, this is so hard! (Barry remembers what the Pollen Jock offered him and he flies off) Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, : humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, : mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? (Adam turns around and sees Barry flying away) : Barry! POLLEN JOCK: All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... ADAM: (Through phone) What happened to you? Where are you? BARRY: - I'm going out. ADAM: - Out? Out where? BARRY: - Out there. ADAM: - Oh, no! BARRY: I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. ADAM:
You're gonna die! You're crazy! (Barry hangs up) Hello? POLLEN JOCK #2: Another call coming in. : If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd : that gets their roses today. BARRY: Hey, guys. POLLEN JOCK #1 == - Look at that. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? LOU LO DUVA: Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. POLLEN JOCK #1: It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. (Puts hand on Barry's shoulder) LOU LO DUVA: (To Barry) Really? Feeling lucky, are you? BEE WITH CLIPBOARD: (To Barry) Sign here, here. Just initial that. : - Thank you. LOU LO DUVA: - OK. : You got a rain advisory today, :
and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. : So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, : hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. : Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. : Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! BARRY: - That's awful. LOU LO DUVA: (Still talking through megaphone) - And a reminder for you rookies, : bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! : All right, launch positions! POLLEN JOCKS: (The Pollen Jocks run into formation) : Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! LOU LU DUVA: Black and yellow! POLLEN JOCKS:
Hello! POLLEN JOCK #1: (To Barry)You ready for this, hot shot? BARRY: Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. POLLEN JOCK's: Wind, check. : - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. : - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. BARRY: Scared out of my shorts, check. LOU LO DUVA: OK, ladies, : let's move it out! : Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! : All of you, drain those flowers! (The pollen jocks fly out of the hive) BARRY: Wow! I'm out! : I can't believe I'm out! : So blue.
: I feel so fast and free! : Box kite! (Barry flies through the kite) : Wow! : Flowers! (A pollen jock puts on some high tech goggles that shows flowers similar to heat sink goggles.) POLLEN JOCK: This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. : Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. : Roses! POLLEN JOCK #1: 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. : Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. (The pollen jock fires a high-tech gun at the flower, shooting tubes that suck up the nectar from the flower and collects it into a pouch on the gun) BARRY: That is one nectar collector! POLLEN JOCK #1== - Ever see pollination up close? BARRY: - No, sir. POLLEN JOCK #1:
(Barry and the Pollen jock fly over the field, the pollen jock sprinkles pollen as he goes) : I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, : a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. BARRY: That's amazing. Why do we do that? POLLEN JOCK #1: That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. BARRY: Cool. POLLEN JOCK #1: I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. could be daisies. Don't we need those? POLLEN JOCK #2: Copy that visual. : Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. POLLEN JOCK #1: Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? POLLEN JOCK #2: Affirmative. (The Pollen jocks land near the "flowers" which, to the audience are obviously just tennis balls) KEN: (In the distance) That was on the line!
POLLEN JOCK #1: This is the coolest. What is it? POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't know, but I'm loving this color. : It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. POLLEN JOCK #1: Yeah, fuzzy. (Sticks his hand on the ball but it gets stuck) POLLEN JOCK #3== Chemical-y. (The pollen jock finally gets his hand free from the tennis ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: Careful, guys. It's a little grabby. (The pollen jocks turn around and see Barry lying his entire body on top of one of the tennis balls) POLLEN JOCK #2: My sweet lord of bees! POLLEN JOCK #3: Candy-brain, get off there! POLLEN JOCK #1: (Pointing upwards) Problem! (A human hand reaches down and grabs the tennis ball that Barry is stuck to) BARRY: - Guys! POLLEN JOCK #2: - This could be bad. POLLEN JOCK #3: Affirmative. (Vanessa Bloome starts bouncing the tennis ball, not knowing Barry is stick to it)
BARRY== Very close. : Gonna hurt. : Mama's little boy. (Barry is being hit back and forth by two humans playing tennis. He is still stuck to the ball) POLLEN JOCK #1: You are way out of position, rookie! KEN: Coming in at you like a MISSILE! (Barry flies past the pollen jocks, still stuck to the ball) BARRY: (In slow motion) Help me! POLLEN JOCK #2: I don't think these are flowers. POLLEN JOCK #3: - Should we tell him? POLLEN JOCK #1: - I think he knows. BARRY: What is this?! KEN: Match point! : You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to EAT IT! (A pollen jock coughs which confused Ken and he hits the ball the wrong way with Barry stuck to it and it goes flying into the city) BARRY:
Yowser! (Barry bounces around town and gets stuck in the engine of a car. He flies into the air conditioner and sees a bug that was frozen in there) BARRY: Ew, gross. (The man driving the car turns on the air conditioner which blows Barry into the car) GIRL IN CAR: There's a bee in the car! : - Do something! DAD DRIVING CAR: - I'm driving! BABY GIRL: (Waving at Barry) - Hi, bee. (Barry smiles and waves at the baby girl) GUY IN BACK OF CAR: - He's back here! : He's going to sting me! GIRL IN CAR: Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! (Barry freezes as well, hovering in the middle of the car) : GRANDMA IN CAR== He blinked! (The grandma whips out some bee-spray and sprays everywhere in the car, climbing into the front seat, still trying to spray Barry) GIRL IN CAR: Spray him, Granny! DAD DRIVING THE CAR: What are you doing?! (Barry escapes the car through the air conditioner and is flying high above
the ground, safe.) BARRY: Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. (Barry sees that storm clouds are gathering and he can see rain clouds moving into this direction) : I gotta get home. : Can't fly in rain. : Can't fly in rain. (A rain drop hits Barry and one of his wings is damaged) : Can't fly in rain. (A second rain drop hits Barry again and he spirals downwards) Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! (WW2 plane sound effects are played as he plummets, and he crash-lands on a plant inside an apartment near the window) VANESSA BLOOME: Ken, could you close the window please? KEN== Hey, check out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. : You see? (Folds brochure resume out) Folds out. (Ken closes the window, trapping Barry inside) BARRY: Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. (Barry tries to fly away but smashes into the window and falls again) : What was that?
(Barry keeps trying to fly out the window but he keeps being knocked back because the window is closed) Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... : Drapes! (Barry taps the glass. He doesn't understand what it is) That is diabolical. KEN: It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. ANDY: What's number one? Star Wars? KEN: Nah, I don't go for that... (Ken makes finger guns and makes "pew pew pew" sounds and then stops) : ...kind of stuff. BARRY: No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. KEN: When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. BARRY: (Looking at the light on the ceiling) There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. (Starts flying towards the lightbulb) : I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. (Barry hits the lightbulb and falls into the dip on the table that the humans are sitting at) KEN:
I predicted global warming. : I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. (Andy dips a chip into the bowl and scoops up some dip with Barry on it and is about to put it in his mouth) : Wait! Stop! Bee! (Andy drops the chip with Barry in fear and backs away. All the humans freak out) : Stand back. These are winter boots. (Ken has winter boots on his hands and he is about to smash the bee but Vanessa saves him last second) VANESSA: Wait! : Don't kill him! (Vanessa puts Barry in a glass to protect him) KEN: You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! VANESSA: Why does his life have less value than yours? KEN: Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? VANESSA: I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. (Vanessa picks up Ken's brochure and puts it under the glass so she can carry Barry back to the window. Barry looks at Vanessa in amazement) KEN:
My brochure! VANESSA: There you go, little guy. (Vanessa opens the window and lets Barry out but Barry stays back and is still shocked that a human saved his life) KEN: I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. VANESSA: Put that on your resume brochure. KEN: My whole face could puff up. ANDY: Make it one of your special skills. KEN: Knocking someone out is also a special skill. (Ken walks to the door) Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. : - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? VANESSA: - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. : (Vanessa tries to close door) KEN== - You could put carob chips on there. VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door but Ken opens it again) KEN: - Supposed to be less calories.
VANESSA: - Bye. (Closes door) (Fast forward to the next day, Barry is still inside the house. He flies into the kitchen where Vanessa is doing dishes) BARRY== (Talking to himself) I gotta say something. : She saved my life. I gotta say something. : All right, here it goes. (Turns back) Nah. : What would I say? : I could really get in trouble. : It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. : I can't believe I'm doing this. : I've got to. (Barry disguises himself as a character on a food can as Vanessa walks by again) : Oh, I can't do it. Come on! : No. Yes. No. : Do it. I can't.
: How should I start it? (Barry strikes a pose and wiggles his eyebrows) "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. (Vanessa is about to walk past Barry) Here she comes! Speak, you fool! : ...Hi! (Vanessa gasps and drops the dishes in fright and notices Barry on the counter) : I'm sorry. VANESSA: - You're talking. BARRY: - Yes, I know. VANESSA: (Pointing at Barry) You're talking! BARRY: I'm so sorry. VANESSA: No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. : But I don't recall going to bed. BARRY: Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. VANESSA: This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee!
BARRY: I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, (Pointing to the living room where Ken tried to kill him last night) but they were all trying to kill me. : And if it wasn't for you... : I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. (Vanessa stabs her hand with a fork to test whether she's dreaming or not) : That was a little weird. VANESSA: - I'm talking with a bee. BARRY: - Yeah. VANESSA: I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! BARRY: I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. (Barry turns to leave) VANESSA: - Wait! How did you learn to do that? BARRY: (Flying back) - What? VANESSA: The talking...thing. BARRY:
Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. VANESSA: - That's very funny. BARRY: - Yeah. : Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. : Anyway... VANESSA: Can I... : ...get you something? BARRY: - Like what? VANESSA: I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Coffee? BARRY: I don't want to put you out. VANESSA: It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. : - It's just coffee. BARRY: - I hate to impose. (Vanessa starts making coffee) VANESSA: - Don't be ridiculous!
BARRY: - Actually, I would love a cup. VANESSA: Hey, you want rum cake? BARRY: - I shouldn't. VANESSA: - Have some. BARRY: - No, I can't. VANESSA: - Come on! BARRY: I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. VANESSA: - Where? BARRY: - These stripes don't help. VANESSA: You look great! BARRY: I don't know if you know anything about fashion. : Are you all right? VANESSA: (Pouring coffee on the floor and missing the cup completely) No. (Flash forward in time. Barry and Vanessa are sitting together at a table on top of the apartment building drinking coffee)
: BARRY== He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. : He finally gets there. : He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. : And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. : Why would I marry a watermelon?" (Barry laughs but Vanessa looks confused) VANESSA: Is that a bee joke? BARRY: That's the kind of stuff we do. VANESSA: Yeah, different. : So, what are you gonna do, Barry? (Barry stands on top of a sugar cube floating in his coffee and paddles it around with a straw like it's a gondola) BARRY: About work? I don't know. : I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. VANESSA: I know how you feel.
BARRY: - You do? VANESSA: - Sure. : My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. BARRY: - Really? VANESSA: - My only interest is flowers. BARRY: Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. : Anyway, if you look... (Barry points to a tree in the middle of Central Park) : There's my hive right there. See it? VANESSA: You're in Sheep Meadow! BARRY: Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! VANESSA: No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. BARRY: - Why do girls put rings on their toes? VANESSA: - Why not? BARRY:
- It's like putting a hat on your knee. VANESSA:
- Maybe I'll try that. (A custodian installing a lightbulb looks over at them but to his perspective it looks like Vanessa is talking to a cup of coffee on the table) CUSTODIAN:
- You all right, ma'am? VANESSA:
- Oh, yeah. Fine. : Just having two cups of coffee! BARRY: Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. VANESSA== Yeah, it's no trouble. BARRY: Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. (Barry points towards the rum cake) : Can I take a piece of this with me? VANESSA: Sure! Here, have a crumb. (Vanessa hands Barry a crumb but it is still pretty big for Barry) BARRY:
- Thanks! VANESSA:
- Yeah. BARRY: All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around.
: Or not. VANESSA: OK, Barry... BARRY: And thank you so much again... for before. VANESSA: Oh, that? That was nothing. BARRY: Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... (Vanessa and Barry hold hands, but Vanessa has to hold out a finger because her hands is to big and Barry holds that) (The custodian looks over again and it appears Vanessa is laughing at her coffee again. The lightbulb that he was screwing in sparks and he falls off the ladder) (Fast forward in time and we see two Bee Scientists testing out a parachute in a Honex wind tunnel) BEE SCIENTIST #1: This can't possibly work. BEE SCIENTIST #2: He's all set to go. We may as well try it. : OK, Dave, pull the chute. (Dave pulls the chute and the wind slams him against the wall and he falls on his face.The camera pans over and we see Barry and Adam walking together) ADAM: - Sounds amazing. BARRY:
- It was amazing! : It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life.
ADAM: You did? Was she Bee-ish? : - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! BARRY: - No, no, no, not a wasp. ADAM: - Spider? BARRY: - I'm not attracted to spiders. : I know, for everyone else, it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. : I can't get by that face. ADAM: So who is she? BARRY: She's... human. ADAM: No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. BARRY: - Her name's Vanessa. (Adam puts his head in his hands) ADAM: - Oh, boy. BARRY== She's so nice. And she's a florist! ADAM: Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!
BARRY: We're not dating. ADAM: You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes : with power washers and M-80s! That's one-eighth a stick of dynamite! BARRY: She saved my life! And she understands me. ADAM: This is over! BARRY: Eat this. (Barry gives Adam a piece of the crumb that he got from Vanessa. Adam eats it) ADAM: (Adam's tone changes) This is not over! What was that? BARRY: - They call it a crumb. ADAM: - It was so stingin' stripey! BARRY: And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! : - You know what a Cinnabon is? ADAM: - No. (Adam opens a door behind him and he pulls Barry in)
BARRY: It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. ADAM: Be quiet! BARRY: They heat it up... ADAM: Sit down! (Adam forces Barry to sit down) BARRY: (Still rambling about Cinnabons) ...really hot! (Adam grabs Barry by the shoulders) ADAM: - Listen to me! : We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! BARRY== Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? ADAM: There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! : You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! BARRY: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEE: - Thinking bee. WORKER BEES AND ADAM: Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee! (Flash forward in time; Barry is laying on a raft in a pool full of honey. He is wearing sunglasses) JANET: There he is. He's in the pool. MARTIN: You know what your problem is, Barry? (Barry pulls down his sunglasses and he looks annoyed) BARRY: (Sarcastic) I gotta start thinking bee? JANET: How much longer will this go on? MARTIN: It's been three days! Why aren't you working? (Puts sunglasses back on) BARRY: I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. MARTIN: What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! JANET: Would it kill you to make a little honey? (Barry rolls off the raft and sinks into the honey pool) : Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. : Martin, would you talk to him? MARTIN:
Barry, I'm talking to you! (Barry keeps sinking into the honey until he is suddenly in Central Park having a picnic with Vanessa) (Barry has a cup of honey and he clinks his glass with Vanessas. Suddenly a mosquito lands on Vanessa and she slaps it, killing it. They both gasp but then burst out laughing) VANESSA: You coming? (The camera pans over and Vanessa is climbing into a small yellow airplane) BARRY: Got everything? VANESSA: All set! BARRY: Go ahead. I'll catch up. (Vanessa lifts off and flies ahead) VANESSA: Don't be too long. (Barry catches up with Vanessa and he sticks out his arms like ana irplane. He rolls from side to side, and Vanessa copies him with the airplane) VANESSA: Watch this! (Barry stays back and watches as Vanessa draws a heart in the air using pink smoke from the plane, but on the last loop-the-loop she suddenly crashes into a mountain and the plane explodes. The destroyed plane falls into some rocks and explodes a second time) BARRY: Vanessa! (As Barry is yelling his mouth fills with honey and he wakes up, discovering that he was just day dreaming. He slowly sinks back into the honey pool) MARTIN: - We're still here.
JANET: - I told you not to yell at him. : He doesn't respond to yelling! MARTIN: - Then why yell at me? JANET: - Because you don't listen! MARTIN: I'm not listening to this. BARRY: Sorry, I've gotta go. MARTIN: - Where are you going? BARRY: - I'm meeting a friend. JANET: A girl? Is this why you can't decide? BARRY: Bye. (Barry flies out the door and Martin shakes his head) : JANET== I just hope she's Bee-ish. (Fast forward in time and Barry is sitting on Vanessa's shoulder and she is closing up her shop) BARRY: They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? VANESSA: To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream!
: Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. BARRY: A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? VANESSA: No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? BARRY: It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. VANESSA: Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. BARRY: TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! VANESSA: You don't have that? BARRY: We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. VANESSA: Oh, my. (A human walks by and Barry narrowly avoids him) PASSERBY: Dumb bees! VANESSA: You must want to sting all those jerks. BARRY: We try not to sting.
It's usually fatal for us. VANESSA: So you have to watch your temper (They walk into a store) BARRY: Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, : write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: : Anger, jealousy, lust. (Suddenly an employee(Hector) hits Barry off of Vanessa's shoulder. Hector thinks he's saving Vanessa) VANESSA: (To Barry) Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? (Barry is getting up off the floor) BARRY: Yeah. VANESSA: (To Hector) - What is wrong with you?! HECTOR: (Confused) - It's a bug. VANESSA: He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! (Vanessa hits Hector across the face with the magazine he had and then hits him in the head. Hector backs away covering his head) Barry: What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? (Vanessa sets Barry back on her shoulder)
VANESSA: Yeah, it was. How did you know? BARRY: It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. VANESSA: You've really got that down to a science. BARRY: - Oh, we have to. I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. VANESSA: - I'll bet. (Barry looks to his right and notices there is honey for sale in the aisle) BARRY: What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? (Barry looks at all the brands of honey, shocked) How did this get here? Cute Bee, Golden Blossom, : Ray Liotta Private Select? (Barry puts his hands up and slowly turns around, a look of disgust on his face) VANESSA: - Is he that actor? BARRY: - I never heard of him. : - Why is this here? VANESSA: - For people. We eat it. BARRY:
You don't have enough food of your own?! (Hector looks back and notices that Vanessa is talking to Barry) VANESSA: - Well, yes. BARRY: - How do you get it? VANESSA: - Bees make it. BARRY: - I know who makes it! : And it's hard to make it! : There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! VANESSA: - It's organic. BARRY: - It's our-ganic! VANESSA: It's just honey, Barry. BARRY: Just what?! : Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! : You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! :
And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. : I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! (Flash forward in time; Barry paints his face with black strikes like a soldier and sneaks into the storage section of the store) (Two men, including Hector, are loading boxes into some trucks) : SUPERMARKET EMPLOYEE== Hey, Hector. : - You almost done? HECTOR: - Almost. (Barry takes a step to peak around the corner) (Whispering) He is here. I sense it. : Well, I guess I'll go home now (Hector pretends to walk away by walking in place and speaking loudly) : and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. BARRY: You're busted, box boy! HECTOR: I knew I heard something! So you can talk! BARRY: I can talk. And now you'll start talking! : Where you getting the sweet stuff?
Who's your supplier? HECTOR: I don't understand. I thought we were friends. : The last thing we want to do is upset bees! (Hector takes a thumbtack out of the board behind him and sword-fights Barry. Barry is using his stinger like a sword) : You're too late! It's ours now! BARRY: You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! HECTOR: You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! (Barry hits the thumbtack out of Hectors hand and Hector surrenders) Barry: Where is the honey coming from? : Tell me where! HECTOR: (Pointing to leaving truck) Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! (Barry chases after the truck but it is getting away. He flies onto a bicyclists' backpack and he catches up to the truck) CAR DRIVER: (To bicyclist) Crazy person! (Barry flies off and lands on the windshield of the Honey farms truck. Barry looks around and sees dead bugs splattered everywhere) BARRY: What horrible thing has happened here?
: These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now : they're on the road to nowhere! (Barry hears a sudden whisper) (Barry looks up and sees Mooseblood, a mosquito playing dead) MOOSEBLOOD: Just keep still. BARRY: What? You're not dead? MOOSEBLOOD: Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? BARRY: To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. MOOSEBLOOD: I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! ANOTHER BUG PLAYING DEAD: I'm going to Tacoma. (Barry looks at another bug) BARRY: - And you? MOOSEBLOOD: - He really is dead. BARRY: All right. (Another bug hits the windshield and the drivers notice. They activate the windshield wipers) MOOSEBLOOD== Uh-oh! (The windshield wipers are slowly sliding over the dead bugs and wiping
them off) BARRY: - What is that?! MOOSEBLOOD: - Oh, no! : - A wiper! Triple blade! BARRY: - Triple blade? MOOSEBLOOD: Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! (Mooseblood and Barry grab onto the wiper and they hold on as it wipes the windshield) Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! : How much do you people need to see?! (Bangs on windshield) : Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! RADIO IN TRUCK: From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. MOOSEBLOOD: But don't kill no more bugs! (Mooseblood and Barry are washed off by the wipr fluid) MOOSEBLOOD: - Bee! BARRY: - Moose blood guy!! (Barry starts screaming as he hangs onto the antenna) (Suddenly it is revealed that a water bug is also hanging on the antenna.
There is a pause and then Barry and the water bug both start screaming) TRUCK DRIVER: - You hear something? GUY IN TRUCK: - Like what? TRUCK DRIVER: Like tiny screaming. GUY IN TRUCK: Turn off the radio. (The antenna starts to lower until it gets to low and sinks into the truck. The water bug flies off and Barry is forced to let go and he is blown away. He luckily lands inside a horn on top of the truck where he finds Mooseblood, who was blown into the same place) MOOSEBLOOD: Whassup, bee boy? BARRY: Hey, Blood. (Fast forward in time and we see that Barry is deep in conversation with Mooseblood. They have been sitting in this truck for a while) BARRY: ...Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. MOOSEBLOOD: Wow! BARRY: I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. : I mean, that honey's ours. MOOSEBLOOD: - Bees hang tight. BARRY:
- We're all jammed in. : It's a close community. MOOSEBLOOD: Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. BARRY:
- What if you get in trouble? MOOSEBLOOD:
- You a mosquito, you in trouble. : Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! BARRY: At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. MOOSEBLOOD: Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. : Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. (An ambulance passes by and it has a blood donation sign on it) You got to be kidding me! : Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! (Mooseblood leaves and flies onto the window of the ambulance where there are other mosquito's hanging out) :
- Hey, guys! OTHER MOSQUITO:
- Mooseblood!
BEEKEEPER #2: They make the honey, and we make the money. BARRY: "They make the honey, and we make the money"? (The Beekeeper sprays hundreds of cheap miniature apartments with the smoker. The bees are fainting or passing out) Oh, my! : What's going on? Are you OK? (Barry flies into one of the apartment and helps a Bee couple get off the ground. They are coughing and its hard for them to stand) BEE IN APARTMENT: Yeah. It doesn't last too long. BARRY: Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? BEE IN APPARTMENT: Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. (The apartment room is completely empty except for a photo on the wall of the "queen" who is obviously a man in women's clothes) BARRY: This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! : That's a drag queen! : What is this? (Barry flies out and he discovers that there are hundreds of these structures, each housing thousands of Bees) Oh, no! : There's hundreds of them! (Barry takes out his camera and takes pictures of these Bee work camps. The beekeepers look very evil in these depictions)
Bee honey. : Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! : This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. (Flash forward in time and Barry is showing these pictures to his parents) JANET: Oh, Barry, stop. MARTIN: Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. BARRY: Do these look like rumors? (Holds up the pictures) UNCLE CARL: That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. JANET: How did you get mixed up in this? ADAM: He's been talking to humans. JANET: - What? MARTIN: - Talking to humans?! ADAM: He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! JANET: Make out? Barry!
BARRY: We do not. ADAM: - You wish you could. MARTIN: - Whose side are you on? BARRY: The bees! UNCLE CARL: (He has been sitting in the back of the room this entire time) I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. JANET: Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? BARRY: I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! : Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked : your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. JANET: I remember that. BARRY: What right do they have to our honey? : We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!
ADAM: Even if it's true, what can one bee do? BARRY: Sting them where it really hurts. MARTIN: In the face! The eye! : - That would hurt. BARRY: - No. MARTIN: Up the nose? That's a killer. BARRY: There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. (Flash forward a bit in time and we are watching the Bee News) BEE NEWS NARRATOR: Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. BEE PROTESTOR: No more bee beards! BEE NEWS NARRATOR: With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. : Weather with Storm Stinger. : Sports with Buzz Larvi. : And Jeanette Chung. BOB BUMBLE: - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. JEANETTE CHUNG:
- And I'm Jeanette Chung. BOB BUMBLE: A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, : intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, : packaging it and profiting from it illegally! JEANETTE CHUNG: Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, : we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, : Classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. (The scene changes to an interview on the news with Bee version of Larry King and Barry) BEE LARRY KING: Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. : Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? BARRY: Bees have never been afraid to change the world. : What about Bee Columbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? BEE LARRY KING: Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.
: We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. BARRY: How old are you? BEE LARRY KING: The bee community is supporting you in this case, : which will be the trial of the bee century. BARRY: You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. BEE LARRY KING: It's a common name. Next week... BARRY: He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... BEE LARRY KING: Next week... BARRY: Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. BEE LARRY KING: Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here, live. (Bee Larry King gets annoyed and flies away offscreen) BARRY: Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. (Flash forward in time. We see Vanessa enter and Ken enters behind her. They are arguing)
Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. KEN: But it's our yogurt night! VANESSA: (Holding door open for Ken) Bye-bye. KEN: (Yelling) Why is yogurt night so difficult?! (Ken leaves and Vanessa walks over to Barry. His workplace is a mess) VANESSA: You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! BARRY: Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. ADAM: - Frosting... - How many sugars? ==BARRY== Just one. I try not to use the competition. : So why are you helping me? VANESSA: Bees have good qualities. : And it takes my mind off the shop. : Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. BARRY:
Those are great, if you're three. VANESSA: And artificial flowers. BARRY: - Oh, those just get me psychotic! VANESSA: - Yeah, me too. : BARRY: Bent stingers, pointless pollination. ADAM: Bees must hate those fake things! : Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. : Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. VANESSA: - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. BARRY: - I guess. ADAM: You sure you want to go through with it? BARRY: Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able : to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! (Flash forward in time and we are watching the human news. The camera shows
a crowd outside a courthouse) NEWS REPORTER: It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, : where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, : we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. (We are no longer watching through a news camera) ADAM: What have we gotten into here, Barry? BARRY: It's pretty big, isn't it? ADAM== (Looking at the hundreds of people around the courthouse) I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. BARRY: You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? SECURITY GUARD: Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. (A limousine drives up and a fat man,Layton Montgomery, a honey industry owner gets out and walks past Barry) ADAM: - What's the matter? BARRY: - I don't know, I just got a chill. (Fast forward in time and everyone is in the court) MONTGOMERY: Well, if it isn't the bee team.
(To Honey Industry lawyers) You boys work on this? MAN: All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. JUDGE BUMBLETON: All right. Case number 4475, : Superior Court of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry : is now in session. : Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? MONTGOMERY: A privilege. JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? (Everyone looks closely, they are waiting to see if a Bee can really talk) (Barry makes several buzzing sounds to sound like a Bee) BARRY: I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. JUDGE BUMBLBETON: Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. MONTGOMERY: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, : my grandmother was a simple woman. :
Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right : to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. : If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, : just think of what would it mean. : I would have to negotiate with the silkworm : for the elastic in my britches! : Talking bee! (Montgomery walks over and looks closely at Barry) : How do we know this isn't some sort of : holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? : They could be using laser beams! : Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, : he could be on steroids! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Benson?
BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. : I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. : It's important to all bees. We invented it! : We make it. And we protect it with our lives. : Unfortunately, there are some people in this room : who think they can take it from us : 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, : you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have : but everything we are! JANET== (To Martin) I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Call your first witness. BARRY: So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden
of Honey Farms, big company you have. KLAUSS VANDERHAYDEN: I suppose so. BARRY: I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! KLAUSS: Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. BARRY: Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. : I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? KLAUSS: (Quietly) - No. BARRY: - I couldn't hear you. KLAUSS: - No. BARRY: - No. : Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, : it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. KLAUSS: They're very lovable creatures.
: Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. BARRY: You mean like this? (The bear from Over The Hedge barges in through the back door and it is roaring and standing on its hind legs. It is thrashing its claws and people are screaming. It is being held back by a guard who has the bear on a chain) : (Pointing to the roaring bear) Bears kill bees! : How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! : Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! JUDGE BUMBLETON: OK, that's enough. Take him away. (The bear stops roaring and thrashing and walks out) BARRY: So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. : - Where have I heard it before? MR. STING: - I was with a band called The Police. BARRY: But you've never been a police officer, have you? STING: No, I haven't. BARRY:
No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example : of bee culture casually stolen by a human : for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. STING: Oh, please. BARRY: Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? : Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. : Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! MONTGOMERY: That's not his real name?! You idiots! BARRY: Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on : your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. RAY LIOTTA: Thank you. Thank you. BARRY: I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome : with a churning inner turmoil
that's ready to blow. RAY LIOTTA: I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? BARRY: Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? : Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't : have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? RAY LIOTTA: Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! BARRY: This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! (Ray Liotta looses it and tries to grab Barry) RAY LIOTTA: Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! JUDGE BUMBLETON: - Order in this court! RAY LIOTTA: - You're all thinking it! (Judge Bumbleton starts banging her gavel) JUDGE BUMBLETON: Order! Order, I say! RAY LIOTTA: - Say it! MAN:
- Mr. Liotta, please sit down! (We see a montage of magazines which feature the court case) (Flash forward in time and Barry is back home with Vanessa) BARRY: I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. VANESSA: I think the jury's on our side. BARRY: Are we doing everything right,you know, legally? VANESSA: I'm a florist. BARRY: Right. Well, here's to a great team. VANESSA: To a great team! (Ken walks in from work. He sees Barry and he looks upset when he sees Barry clinking his glass with Vanessa) KEN: Well, hello. VANESSA:
- Oh, Ken! BARRY:
- Hello! VANESSA: I didn't think you were coming. : No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... (Ken holds up his phone and flips it open. The phone has no charge) ...the battery... VANESSA:
KEN: Do we? BARRY: Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. KEN: (Menacingly) That's just what I was thinking about doing. (Ken reaches for a fork on the table but knocks if on the floor. He goes to pick it up) VANESSA: Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. (Ken quickly rises back up after hearing this but hits his head on the table and yells) BARRY: I'm going to drain the old stinger. KEN: Yeah, you do that. (Barry flies past Ken to get to the bathroom and Ken freaks out, splashing some of the wine he was using to cool his head in his eyes. He yells in anger) (Barry looks at the magazines featuring his victories in court) BARRY: Look at that. (Barry flies into the bathroom) (He puts his hand on his head but this makes hurts him and makes him even madder. He yells again) (Barry is washing his hands in the sink but then Ken walks in) KEN: You know, you know I've just about had it (Closes bathroom door behind him) with your little mind games. (Ken is menacingly rolling up a magazine) BARRY:
(Backing away) - What's that? KEN: - Italian Vogue. BARRY: Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. KEN: It's a lot of ads. BARRY: Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? KEN: That's funny, I just can't seem to recall that! (Ken smashes everything off the sink with the magazine and Barry narrowly escapes) (Ken follows Barry around and tries to hit him with the magazine but he keeps missing) (Ken gets a spray bottle) : I think something stinks in here! BARRY: (Enjoying the spray) I love the smell of flowers. (Ken holds a lighter in front of the spray bottle) KEN: How do you like the smell of flames?! BARRY: Not as much. (Ken fires his make-shift flamethrower but misses Barry, burning the bathroom. He torches the whole room but looses his footing and falls into the bathtub. After getting hit in the head by falling objects 3 times he picks up the shower head, revealing a Water bug hiding under it) WATER BUG: Water bug! Not taking sides!
(Barry gets up out of a pile of bathroom supplies and he is wearing a chapstick hat) BARRY: Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat! This is pathetic! (Ken switches the shower head to lethal) KEN: I've got issues! (Ken sprays Barry with the shower head and he crash lands into the toilet) (Ken menacingly looks down into the toilet at Barry) Well, well, well, a royal flush! BARRY: - You're bluffing. KEN: - Am I? (flushes toilet) (Barry grabs a chapstick from the toilet seat and uses it to surf in the flushing toilet) BARRY: Surf's up, dude! (Barry flies out of the toilet on the chapstick and sprays Ken's face with the toilet water) : EW,Poo water! BARRY: That bowl is gnarly. KEN: (Aiming a toilet cleaner at Barry) Except for those dirty yellow rings! (Barry cowers and covers his head and Vanessa runs in and takes the toilet cleaner from Ken just before he hits Barry) VANESSA: Kenneth! What are you doing?! KEN== (Leaning towards Barry)
You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! VANESSA: We need to talk! (Vanessa pulls Ken out of the bathroom) : He's just a little bee! : And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! KEN: Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? VANESSA: No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! KEN: Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... : My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! VANESSA: Goodbye, Ken. (Ken huffs and walks out and slams the door. But suddenly he walks back in and stares at Barry) : And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners MADE BY MAN! (Ken leaves again and Vanessa leans in towards Barry) VANESSA: I'm sorry about all that. (Ken walks back in again)
KEN: I know it's got an aftertaste! I LIKE IT! (Ken leaves for the last time) VANESSA: I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. : I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. : Are you OK for the trial? BARRY: I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. (Flash forward in time and Barry, Adam, and Vanessa are back in court) MONTGOMERY-- We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. ADAM: Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... (Barry stares at Adam) ...Yeah. LAWYER: Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. MONTGOMERY: Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around : is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. (To lawyer)
- You got the tweezers? LAWYER:
- Are you allergic? MONTGOMERY: Only to losing, son. Only to losing. : Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. : What exactly is your relationship (Points to Vanessa) : to that woman? BARRY: We're friends. MONTGOMERY:
- Good friends? BARRY:
- Yes. MONTGOMERY: How good? Do you live together? ADAM: Wait a minute... : MONTGOMERY: Are you her little... : ...bedbug? (Adam's stinger starts vibrating. He is agitated) I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand,
: doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? BARRY: - Yeah, but... MONTGOMERY: (Pointing at Janet and Martin)
- So those aren't your real parents! JANET:
- Oh, Barry... BARRY:
- Yes, they are! ADAM: Hold me back! (Vanessa tries to hold Adam back. He wants to sting Montgomery) MONTGOMERY: You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? ADAM: He's denouncing bees! MONTGOMERY: Don't y'all date your cousins? (Montgomery leans over on the jury stand and stares at Adam) VANESSA:
- Objection! (Vanessa raises her hand to object but Adam gets free. He flies straight at Montgomery) =ADAM:
- I'm going to pincushion this guy! BARRY: Adam, don't! It's what he wants! (Adam stings Montgomery in the butt and he starts thrashing around)
: Order, please! (Flash forward in time and we see a human news reporter) NEWS REPORTER: The case of the honeybees versus the human race : took a pointed turn against the bees : yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. (Adam is laying in a hospital bed and Barry flies in to see him) BARRY: - Hey, buddy. ADAM: - Hey. BARRY: - Is there much pain? ADAM: - Yeah. : I... : I blew the whole case, didn't I? BARRY: It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. ADAM: I'd be better off dead. Look at me. (A small plastic sword is replaced as Adam's stinger) They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.
: Look, there's a little celery still on it. (Flicks off the celery and sighs) BARRY: What was it like to sting someone? ADAM: I can't explain it. It was all... : All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! BARRY: ...All right. ADAM: You think it was all a trap? BARRY: Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. : What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. ADAM: What will the humans do to us if they win? BARRY: I don't know. ADAM: I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. BARRY: Adam, they check in, but they don't check out!
ADAM: Oh, my. (Coughs) Could you get a nurse to close that window? BARRY: - Why? ADAM: - The smoke. (We can see that two humans are smoking cigarettes outside) : Bees don't smoke. BARRY: Right. Bees don't smoke. : Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. : That's it! That's our case! ADAM: It is? It's not over? BARRY: Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. : Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. (Flash forward in time and Adam is making a paper boat in the courtroom) ADAM: And assuming you've done step 29 correctly, you're ready for the tub! (We see that the jury have each made their own paper boats after being taught how by Adam. They all look confused) JUDGE BUMBLETON:
Mr. Flayman. ADAM: Yes? Yes, Your Honor! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Where is the rest of your team? ADAM: (Continues stalling) Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. : Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, : and as a result, we don't make very good time. : I actually heard a funny story about... MONTGOMERY: Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs : taken up enough of this court's valuable time? : How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? : They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges : against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. : I move for a complete dismissal
of this entire case! JUDGE BUMBLETON: Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going : to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. ADAM: But you can't! We have a terrific case. MONTGOMERY: Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? : Show me the smoking gun! BARRY: (Barry flies in through the door) Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? : Here is your smoking gun. (Vanessa walks in holding a bee smoker. She sets it down on the Judge's podium) JUDGE BUMBLETON: What is that? BARRY: It's a bee smoker! MONTGOMERY: (Picks up smoker) What, this? This harmless little contraption? : This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. (Montgomery accidentally fires it at the bees in the crowd and they faint
and cough) (Dozens of reporters start taking pictures of the suffering bees) BARRY: Look at what has happened : to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" : Is this what nature intended for us? : To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines : and man-made wooden slat work camps? : Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? (Barry points to the honey industry owners. One of them is an African American so he awkwardly separates himself from the others) LAWYER: - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. BARRY: Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! ADAM AND VANESSA: Free the bees! Free the bees! BEES IN CROWD: Free the bees! HUMAN JURY: Free the bees! Free the bees! JUDGE BUMBLETON: The court finds in favor of the bees!
BARRY: Vanessa, we won! VANESSA: I knew you could do it! High-five! (Vanessa hits Barry hard because her hand is too big) : Sorry. BARRY: (Overjoyed) I'm OK! You know what this means? : All the honey will finally belong to the bees. : Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. MONTGOMERY: This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. : You'll regret this. (Montgomery leaves and Barry goes outside the courtroom. Several reporters start asking Barry questions) REPORTER 1#: Barry, how much honey is out there? BARRY: All right. One at a time. REPORTER 2#: Barry, who are you wearing? BARRY: My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants.
(Barry flies outside with the paparazzi and Adam and Vanessa stay back) ADAM: (To Vanessa) - What if Montgomery's right? Vanessa: - What do you mean? ADAM: We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to a man) BUSINESS MAN: Congratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? BARRY: First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. (As Barry is talking we see a montage of men putting "closed" tape over the work camps and freeing the bees in the crappy apartments) Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, : every last drop. (Men in suits are pushing all the honey of the aisle and into carts) We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more (We see a statue of a bear-shaped honey container being pulled down by bees) than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. : We're all aware of what they do in the woods. (We see Winnie the Pooh sharing his honey with Piglet in the cross-hairs of a high-tech sniper rifle) BARRY: (Looking through binoculars)
Wait for my signal. : Take him out. (Winnie gets hit by a tranquilizer dart and dramatically falls off the log he was standing on, his tongue hanging out. Piglet looks at Pooh in fear and the Sniper takes the honey.) SNIPER: He'll have nausea for a few hours, then he'll be fine. (Flash forward in time) BARRY: And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... (Mr. Sting is sitting at home until he is taken out of his house by the men in suits) STING: But it's just a prance-about stage name! BARRY: ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products : and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. (An old lady is mixing honey into her tea but suddenly men in suits smash her face down on the table and take the honey) OLD LADY: Can't breathe. (A honey truck pulls up to Barry's hive) WORKER: Bring it in, boys! : Hold it right there! Good. : Tap it.
(Tons of honey is being pumped into the hive's storage) BEE WORKER 1#: (Honey overflows from the cup) Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! : - I think we need to shut down! =BEE WORKER #2= - Shut down? We've never shut down. : Shut down honey production! DEAN BUZZWELL: Stop making honey! (The bees all leave their stations. Two bees run into a room and they put the keys into a machine) Turn your key, sir! (Two worker bees dramatically turn their keys, which opens the button which they press, shutting down the honey-making machines. This is the first time this has ever happened) BEE: ...What do we do now? (Flash forward in time and a Bee is about to jump into a pool full of honey) Cannonball! (The bee gets stuck in the honey and we get a short montage of Bees leaving work) (We see the Pollen Jocks flying but one of them gets a call on his antenna) LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") We're shutting honey production! : Mission abort. POLLEN JOCK #1: Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. (The Pollen Jocks fly back to the hive)
(We get a time lapse of Central Park slowly wilting away as the bees all relax) BARRY: Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. ADAM: Oh, yeah? BARRY: What's going on? Where is everybody? (The entire street is deserted) : - Are they out celebrating? ADAM: - They're home. : They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. : I heard your Uncle Carl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. BARRY: At least we got our honey back. ADAM: Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? : It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. : This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. :
And now... : Now I can't. (Flash forward in time and Barry is talking to Vanessa) BARRY: I don't understand why they're not happy. : I thought their lives would be better! : They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. VANESSA: You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? BARRY: - What did you want to show me? (Vanessa takes Barry to the rooftop where they first had coffee and points to her store) VANESSA: - This. (Points at her flowers. They are all grey and wilting) BARRY: What happened here? VANESSA: That is not the half of it. (Small flash forward in time and Vanessa and Barry are on the roof of her store and she points to Central Park) (We see that Central Park is no longer green and colorful, rather it is grey, brown, and dead-like. It is very depressing to look at) BARRY: Oh, no. Oh, my. :
They're all wilting. VANESSA: Doesn't look very good, does it? BARRY: No. VANESSA: And whose fault do you think that is? BARRY: You know, I'm gonna guess bees. VANESSA== (Staring at Barry) Bees? BARRY: Specifically, me. : I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. VANESSA: It's not just flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. BARRY: That's our whole SAT test right there. VANESSA: Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. : And then, of course... BARRY: The human species? : So if there's no more pollination,
: it could all just go south here, couldn't it? VANESSA: I know this is also partly my fault. BARRY: How about a suicide pact? VANESSA: How do we do it? BARRY: - I'll sting you, you step on me. VANESSA: - That just kills you twice. BARRY: Right, right. VANESSA: Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. (Vanessa leaves) BARRY: (To himself) I had to open my mouth and talk. : Vanessa? : Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? (Vanessa is getting into a taxi) VANESSA: To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. :
They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. : It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. BARRY: Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. VANESSA: I know. Me neither. (The taxi starts to drive away) BARRY: Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. : Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? : Roses! : Vanessa! (Barry flies after the Taxi) VANESSA: Roses?! : Barry? (Barry is flying outside the window of the taxi) BARRY: - Roses are flowers! VANESSA: - Yes, they are. BARRY: Flowers, bees, pollen!
VANESSA: I know. That's why this is the last parade. BARRY: Maybe not. Could you ask him to slow down? VANESSA: Could you slow down? (The taxi driver screeches to a stop and Barry keeps flying forward) : Barry! (Barry flies back to the window) BARRY: OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. VANESSA: Yes, it kind of is. BARRY: I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you : with the flower shop. I've made it worse. VANESSA: Actually, it's completely closed down. BARRY: I thought maybe you were remodeling. : But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. VANESSA: I don't want to hear it!
BARRY: All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. : I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. : All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. : - Bees. VANESSA: - Park. BARRY: - Pollen! VANESSA: - Flowers. BARRY: - Re-pollination! VANESSA: - Across the nation! : Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, California. : They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. : Security will be tight. BARRY: I have an idea.
(Flash forward in time. Vanessa is about to board a plane which has all the Roses on board. VANESSA: Vanessa Bloome, FTD. (Holds out badge) : Official floral business. It's real. SECURITY GUARD: Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. =VANESSA== Thank you. It was a gift. (Barry is revealed to be hiding inside the brooch) (Flash back in time and Barry and Vanessa are discussing their plan) BARRY: Once inside, we just pick the right float. VANESSA: How about The Princess and the Pea? : I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! BARRY: Yes, I got it. : - Where should I sit? GUARD: - What are you? BARRY: - I believe I'm the pea. GUARD: - The pea? VANESSA:
It goes under the mattresses. GUARD: - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. VANESSA: You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! : Let's see what this baby'll do. (Vanessa drives the float through traffic) GUARD: Hey, what are you doing?! BARRY== Then all we do is blend in with traffic... : ...without arousing suspicion. : Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are about to get on a plane) SECURITY GUARD: Stop! Security. : - You and your insect pack your float? VANESSA: - Yes. SECURITY GUARD: Has it been in your possession the entire time? VANESSA: - Yes.
SECURITY GUARD: Would you remove your shoes? (To Barry) - Remove your stinger. BARRY: - It's part of me. SECURITY GUARD: I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. (Barry plotting with Vanessa) BARRY: Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. (Flash forward in time and Barry and Vanessa are flying on the plane) Can you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! VANESSA: I think this is gonna work. BARRY: It's got to work. CAPTAIN SCOTT: (On intercom) Attention, passengers, this is Captain Scott. : We have a bit of bad weather in New York. : It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. VANESSA: Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. BARRY:
I gotta get up there and talk to them. VANESSA== Be careful. (Barry flies right outside the cockpit door) BARRY: Can I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. (The flight attendant opens the door and walks out and Barry flies into the cockpit unseen) BARRY: Captain, I'm in a real situation. CAPTAIN SCOTT: - What'd you say, Hal? CO-PILOT HAL: - Nothing. (Scott notices Barry and freaks out) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Bee! BARRY: No,no,no, Don't freak out! My entire species... (Captain Scott gets out of his seat and tries to suck Barry into a handheld vacuum) HAL: (To Scott) What are you doing? (Barry lands on Hals hair but Scott sees him. He tries to suck up Barry but instead he sucks up Hals toupee) CAPTAIN SCOTT: Uh-oh. BARRY: - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!
HAL: (Hal doesn't know Barry is on his head) - Who's an attorney? CAPTAIN SCOTT: Don't move. (Scott hits Hal in the face with the vacuum in an attempt to hit Barry. Hal is knocked out and he falls on the life raft button which launches an infalatable boat into Scott, who gets knocked out and falls to the floor. They are both uncounscious.) BARRY: (To himself) Oh, Barry. BARRY: (On intercom, with a Southern accent) Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. : Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? (Vanessa looks confused) (Normal accent) ...And please hurry! (Vanessa opens the door and sees the life raft and the uncounscious pilots) VANESSA: What happened here? BARRY: I tried to talk to them, but then there was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. : Now one's bald, one's in a boat, and they're both unconscious! VANESSA: ...Is that another bee joke? BARRY:
- No! : No one's flying the plane! BUD DITCHWATER: (Through radio on plane) This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? VANESSA: This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. BUD: Where's the pilot? VANESSA: He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. BUD: Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? BARRY: As a matter of fact, there is. BUD:
- Who's that? BARRY:
- Barry Benson. BUD: From the honey trial?! Oh, great. BARRY: Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. : It's got giant wings, huge engines.
REPORTER: (Talking with Bob Bumble) We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls : with absolutely no flight experience. BOB BUMBLE: Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. BUD: I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. : They've done enough damage. REPORTER: But isn't he your only hope? BUD: Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. : Their wings are too small... BARRY: (Through radio) Haven't we heard this a million times? : "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense."... BOB BUMBLE: - Get this on the air! BEE: - Got it.
BEE NEWS CREW: - Stand by. BEE NEWS CREW: - We're going live! BARRY: (Through radio on TV) ...The way we work may be a mystery to you. : Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. : But let me tell you about a small job. : If you do it well, it makes a big difference. : More than we realized. To us, to everyone. : That's why I want to get bees back to working together. : That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. : We get behind a fellow. : - Black and yellow! BEES: - Hello! (The scene switches and Barry is teaching Vanessa how to fly) BARRY:
Left, right, down, hover. VANESSA: - Hover? BARRY: - Forget hover. VANESSA: This isn't so hard. (Pretending to honk the horn) Beep-beep! Beep-beep! (A Lightning bolt hits the plane and autopilot turns off) Barry, what happened?! BARRY: Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. VANESSA: - That may have been helping me. BARRY: - And now we're not! VANESSA: So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. (The plane plummets but we see Lou Lu Duva and the Pollen Jocks, along with multiple other bees flying towards the plane) Lou Lu DUva: All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! : Move out! (The scene switches back to Vanessa and Barry in the plane) BARRY: Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! (Barry sticks out his arms like an airplane and flys in front of Vanessa's face)
VANESSA: Don't have to yell. BARRY: I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. VANESSA: It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! BARRY: It's not a tone. I'm panicking! VANESSA: I can't do this! (Barry slaps Vanessa) BARRY: Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! VANESSA: (Slaps Barry) You snap out of it. BARRY: (Slaps Vanessa) : You snap out of it. VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! (We see that all the Pollen Jocks are flying under the plane) VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it!
VANESSA: - You snap out of it! BARRY: - You snap out of it! VANESSA: - Hold it! BARRY: - Why? Come on, it's my turn. VANESSA: How is the plane flying? (The plane is now safely flying) VANESSA: I don't know. (Barry's antennae rings like a phone. Barry picks up) BARRY: Hello? LOU LU DUVA: (Through "phone") Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? (All of the Pollen Jocks are carrying the plane) BARRY: The Pollen Jocks! : They do get behind a fellow. LOU LU DUVA: - Black and yellow. POLLEN JOCKS: - Hello. LOU LU DUVA: All right, let's drop this tin can
on the blacktop. BARRY: Where? I can't see anything. Can you? VANESSA: No, nothing. It's all cloudy. : Come on. You got to think bee, Barry. BARRY: - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. (On the runway there are millions of bees laying on their backs) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. VANESSA: - What? BARRY: - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. : Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. : Bring the nose down. BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! CONTROL TOWER OPERATOR: - What in the world is on the tarmac? BUD: - Get some lights on that!
(It is revealed that all the bees are organized into a giant pulsating flower formation) BEES: Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! BARRY: - Vanessa, aim for the flower. VANESSA: - OK. BARRY: Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? LOU LU DUVA: Affirmative! BARRY: Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. : Land on that flower! : Ready? Full reverse! : Spin it around! (The plane's nose is pointed at a flower painted on a nearby plane) - Not that flower! The other one! VANESSA: - Which one? BARRY: - That flower. (The plane is now pointed at a fat guy in a flowered shirt. He freaks out and tries to take a picture of the plane) VANESSA: - I'm aiming at the flower!
BARRY: That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! (The plane hovers over the bee-flower) : Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. : Rotate around it. VANESSA: - This is insane, Barry! BARRY: - This's the only way I know how to fly. BUD: Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? (The plane is unrealistically hovering and spinning over the bee-flower) BARRY: Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! : Just drop it. Be a part of it. : Aim for the center! : Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! : Come on, already. (The bees scatter and the plane safely lands) VANESSA: Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly!
BARRY: - Yes! (Vanessa is about to high-five Barry) No high-five! VANESSA: - Right. ADAM: Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? BARRY: What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! ADAM: - Thank you. BARRY: - But we're not done yet. : Listen, everyone! : This runway is covered with the last pollen : from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. : That means this is our last chance. : We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. : If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say?
: Are we going to be bees, or just Museum of Natural History keychains? BEES: We're bees! BEE WHO LIKES KEYCHAINS: Keychain! BARRY: Then follow me! Except Keychain. POLLEN JOCK #1: Hold on, Barry. Here. : You've earned this. BARRY: Yeah! : I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. (The Pollen Jocks throw Barry a nectar-collecting gun. Barry catches it) Oh, yeah. JANET: That's our Barry. (Barry and the Pollen Jocks get pollen from the flowers on the plane) (Flash forward in time and the Pollen Jocks are flying over NYC) : (Barry pollinates the flowers in Vanessa's shop and then heads to Central Park) BOY IN PARK: Mom! The bees are back! ADAM: (Putting on his Krelman hat) If anybody needs
to make a call, now's the time. : I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! (The bee honey factories are back up and running) (Meanwhile at Vanessa's shop) VANESSA: (To customer) Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Can I help who's next? : Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. (There is a room in the shop where Barry does legal work for other animals. He is currently talking with a Cow) COW: Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! : Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! BARRY: I had no idea. VANESSA: Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? BARRY: Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. MOOSEBLOOD: Sorry I'm late. COW: He's a lawyer too?
MOOSEBLOOD: Ma'am, I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. VANESSA: Have a great afternoon! : Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. BARRY: No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. VANESSA: You're a lifesaver, Barry. Can I help who's next? BARRY: All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. VANESSA: Thank you, Barry! (Ken walks by on the sidewalk and sees the "bee-approved honey" in Vanessa's shop) KEN: That bee is living my life!! ANDY: Let it go, Kenny. KEN: - When will this nightmare end?! ANDY: - Let it all go. BARRY: - Beautiful day to fly. POLLEN JOCK:
- Sure is. BARRY: Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. (Barry recreates the scene near the beginning of the movie where he flies through the box kite. The movie fades to black and the credits being) [--after credits; No scene can be seen but the characters can be heard talking over the credits--] You have got to start thinking bee, my friend! :
- Thinking bee!
- Me? BARRY: (Talking over singer) Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. : I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Can we stop here? SINGER: Oh, BarryBARRY: I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! SINGER: All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. BARRY: I had virtually no rehearsal for that.
2023.06.08 23:02 Cocao_Nibs The Duelist in Purple Armor v2 Remastered, Chapter 2
FirstNext
Well, it only took Canada burning and the East Coast turning into smoky rendition of a Mexico filter for this chapter to finally reach completion. Regularly-scheduled programming should hopefully resume after July 4th. Until then, drink some water, don't do gender reveals in the forest, and hang in there, guys!
Pursuant to Imperial Decree 10928, and in recognition of the reservist nature of the unit, the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment has been found to satisfy the standards outlined in the Decree. However, in light of the significant budget and nonmaterial resource allocations that were required to bring the aforementioned unit up to levels considered satisfactory by existing standards, additional considerations beyond readiness and training levels must be taken into account.
Throughout the appeals process, you have repeatedly indicated that you believe rocket artillery to still have a place on the modern battlefield, citing recent reports from the Terran Planetary District command of the Sol System sector, as well as early after-action reports from the Intervention on Raknos, which you claim to support your argument. However, further investigation into this claim by independent analysts on behalf of Armored Warfare Command has found it to hold no merit in light of the recent restructuring outlined in detail in prior communications. Simply put, neither the Empress, nor her advisors, believe that the maintenance and garrisoning of units intended strictly for low-intensity counter-insurgency operations remains doctrinally viable.
Additionally, the excessive monetary and nonmonetary resources you requested in preparation for the evaluation, in light of the on-par, verging on substandard performance of the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment, even accounting for the large number of fresh troops that needed to be drawn down from other posts to fill out its ranks, is highly suggestive on the part of you, the honorable Ashira Rakishal. This discrepancy is of high importance, and you may rest assured that it has already been publicly filed by the time this letter appears in your inbox.
Such a discrepancy is indicative of either incompetence or corruption on your part. Commanding officers may face demotion or a possible dishonorable discharge for the former, or, for the latter, a fine totalling no more than one-and-a-half times the estimated sum of the damages assessed, guaranteed dishonorable discharge and a potential prison term of no more than four years. Due to there being no evidence to suggest the latter, the former approach has been suggested by the Armored Warfare Command. Effective fourteen (14) days after this order is signed, your rank will be reduced and you will be relieved of commanding the Regiment. You may be restationed at this time, and your government-issued devices may be deactivated to facilitate this restationing. The 1st Rocket Artillery Division, in accordance with Decree 10928, will be dissolved and its assets relocated to other units wherever possible. Any remaining property will be auctioned under section 12.57.3(g) of the Naval and Marine Surplus Handling Act of 651 at the Val’tira Central Forwarding Depot.
Ashira finished reading the letter, but the words meant nothing to her. She hadn't slept in half a week, if not longer, in anticipation of the results from her hearing. In fact, she'd hardly gotten up from her desk; the 1st RAR was on leave until the final verdict would be announced publicly, and it was all she could do but to refresh her inbox every few minutes and watch mindless clips in the background that she hardly heard and never managed to remember a word from.
She tried reading it again, but the letters seemed to float off the screen, each one wrapped in a halo of bluish white screen glow. Nothing made sense.
'We were found to be satisfactory, but then… why does it talk about my rank? Am I getting promoted? There was something about dishonorable discharges, too, so… are some of my girls getting let go? I guess I will have to break the news to them. And it said something about budget overruns… well, mom still owes me from when she forgot to get me anything for my eighteenth last month, so I guess she can pay them back for all the equipment and training I had to authorize…'
Her thoughts were already drifting off into a vague haze when her stomach made a low noise, reminding her of the fact that she hadn't eaten in hours, mostly because her supply of food had run dry. Almost in a trance, she rose from her desk and, almost on autopilot, set about getting ready to go out and do some shopping, as she always did. The floor of her living quarters was almost entirely hidden by weeks-old discarded packaging, mountains of dirty clothes, and bottles half-filled with liquid that was either expired juice or urine. Narrow paths snaked through the mess; one to the bathroom, one to her bed, and one more still to the door, which she now slowly shambled towards.
Ashira pulled a pair of battered combat boots over her bare feet - she'd run out of socks that didn't offend her senses some weeks prior - without bothering to lace them, shoved her wallet into the front pocket of the fireproof jumpsuit she wore with absolutely nothing underneath and hadn't changed out of all week, and shoved the door open to head out. Immediately, the smell - or, perhaps, a lack thereof - of the corridor hit her. All the sleeping quarters were locked. It was quiet. Though her boots were heavy, her footsteps barely made a noise as she plodded along the thick, purple and topaz-blue carpet that lined the floor.
The door to the lobby was propped open by a cleaner's cart, and a heavy perfume of chemical detergents wafted through the opening as she approached. In the lobby was a small, older Helkam male, with his long and, in places, graying hair tied back with a beige bandana that matched his civilian contractor's coveralls, just as his green noise-canceling headphones matched the company logo on his uniform. He was dutifully mopping the already nigh-spotless polished stone floor, and there was only a narrow dry strip connecting doorway to doorway.
“‘Scuse me,” she mumbled, tapping him on the shoulder to alert him to her presence. “Coming through.”
He flinched away from her touch, and she flinched away from him, as though his own shock was contagious. “The fuck, you touch me!?” He exclaimed, whipping around to face her, mop at the ready like a Turox-prod. His face burned a pale but furious violet, contorted with fear and a readiness to fight. But, just as suddenly as he’d come to face her, his expression became one of confusion. His mop dipped down, and they stood in silence for a split second that seemed to drag on for entire minutes. Then, he made an odd face, as if of disgust or contempt, and stepped aside, motioning for her to pass by him.
Ashira would have been puzzled by this, if only she were not so frazzled and caught up in her own thoughts. She stepped outside and was immediately hit by a cool breeze; it was night out, and the wind blew in just as it always did. Not that it bothered her much; over the previous months, she had found that it didn’t seem to affect her very much. The only reason she wasn’t feeling the full brunt of the evening gales was that the buildings around the officer’s quarters were mostly two- and three-story affairs, their height and old, weathered stone cladding the last specters of the prominence and prestige the base enjoyed in the long-before times. Before the Unification Wars were but a distant memory. Before the Periphery had become the final, unconquerable frontier. Before the Empress-damned mess that was Raknos. Before Rocket Artillery had become hopelessly obsolete.
The wind blew, relentless and steadfast, as she trudged towards the only place on-base that still had its lights on. The general store. She didn’t know what she wanted to buy there, nor if there would indeed be anything on the shelves that she’d want to buy, but she felt she had to try, anyway. The only rest she could get now was chemically-assisted, either through over-the-counter sleeping pills, or copious volumes of booze, or, when the going got particularly rough, a combination of both. She was vaguely aware of the damage she was probably inflicting upon her organs, but she figured that they were a worthy sacrifice. Still, some days she couldn't fall asleep, even boozed up and medicated as much as she would dare, so she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping that the splitting headaches she would get from that chemical cocktail would make her ears ring loud enough to drown out her intrusive thoughts.
The store wasn't particularly warm when she entered, and it reeked of cigarette smoke and mildew as always. The nearest set of shelves to the door were stocked with bags of some sort of imported breaded meat snacks labeled Pufriyah - Ancestral Recipe, Modern Taste! across the top shelf and cases of Red Grains across the bottom, as if some long-forgotten planner had seen into the future and anticipated Ashira's shopping habits exactly. Without much thought, she pulled a case of the Reds off the bottom shelf, her back, which had been sore for months by then, crying out in pain that just barely cut through her apathy. She threw a few bags of the Pufriyah snacks on top of it, entirely indifferent to their name, slogan, and brown-furred chibi mascot that spoke to their Rakiri intended consumer base.
'It's all just carbs and protein at the end of the day,' she figured. It wasn't like she could taste much of them anyway, had she really cared to learn their flavor. It was close to a month prior that she'd caught a nasty cold, and her constant sleep deprivation and stress hadn't lent themselves to it clearing itself up on its own. Her senses of taste and smell were unnecessary to her whipping her unit into shape, she'd decided, once she learned that the antivirals she needed to take to make her symptoms clear up would need her to be on bed rest for three straight days. She could always take them later, anyway.
The bottles of Red Grain clanked against each other as Ashira heaved the case onto the checkout counter. The bags on top of it slid off, and she only just caught them in time. The noise awoke the lone cashier, another civilian contractor, from her nap atop her wobbly three-legged stool. She quite inelegantly hopped off of it and came to lean against the counter with one hand, the other lazily waving the scanner of a specialized Data-Slate over the merchandise.
"ID for the Reds," the cashier groggily slurred out, patting down her many pockets in search of a cigarette box. "Standard procedure, nothing personal against you."
Ashira stared at her, dumbfounded, for a few moments too many, before it hit her that she needed to pull up her Marine Profile on her Slate. Mumbling an apology mixed with an excuse, she reached into one of the few - albeit cavernously huge - pockets of her fireproof suit and produced the grimy government-issue device in question. The lock screen was set to her ID, just to make such common interactions go by quicker.
She pushed the Slate across the counter, expecting to get it slid back to her in a few moments, and maybe a manufactured smile and a nod if the cashier noticed the Rakishal House crest in the corner and realized she was of noble blood. But this time, none of that happened. The woman across from her frowned, squinting as she analyzed something about the ID, her face no more than perhaps a few centimeters from it. She looked up at Ashira, then back down at the ID, then back at her, and then all of a sudden her confusion melted into some odd mixture of shock and disgust. She wordlessly pushed the Slate back across the counter, scanned the case of Red Grain, and then motioned to a now very baffled and somewhat offended Ashira that she was free to leave.
In her sleep-deprived state, Ashira had barely the mental capacity to remember where the door was, much less to ponder the deeper meaning behind what had transpired. Vowing to come back the next day, after getting a good night's sleep, and get the insolent cashier fired, she trudged out of the shop, back to the officers' quarters, where the Helkam man was still toiling away in the lobby, now wiping down the Turox-leather seats, and into her own suite.
She brushed the most egregious of the trash from her bed, with the arm that wasn't clutching the spoils of her trek to her chest, and allowed gravity to gracelessly guide her into its soft, fitted-sheet embrace. With a sigh of barely-felt relief, she cracked the cap off her first bottle with her tusks and took a long, well-earned swig.
The next thing she knew, it was morning.
Everything hurt. Ashira's muscles all ached like she'd run every Deathshead Commando bootcamp course, back-to-back, without stopping. Her head felt like a bloated, rotten gourd, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Even though her eyes were closed, what little light made it through them felt as though it was piercing straight through her eyeballs and into her brain. However, through it all, she noted an odd, almost pleasant sensation that she hadn't felt in so long, she'd almost forgotten the word for it.
'Empress all-powerful, this must be the first time in almost a year that I've had a full night's sleep!'
Ashira would have kept laying there, exactly where she was. The room was quiet. No one needed her. Her unit was stood down for another few days. She could just stay in bed, in peace, and wait for the pain to subside. But the very second she considered that possibility, her bladder cried in agony, and she simultaneously came to the realizations that she would not be able to hold it in for even a minute longer, and that she was wearing her only set of relatively-clean clothes.
She pushed herself up and onto her feet, and that motion sent showers of sparks cascading through her vision, even as her eyes stayed firmly shut. Her ears rang from the pain as though she'd stuck her head between the prongs of a colossal tuning fork, her limbs felt numb as she stumbled through her room, and the only way she could tell up from down was from the direction gravity kept pulling her every time she lost her balance.
She hit the door frame to the bathroom by chance, only recognizing it as the right one by the light switch her elbow painfully caught. From there, she went entirely by feel. There was the sink, the towel rack, the soap dispenser, the shower door… and finally, having run out of wrong things to blindly grope around for, her hand bumped into the tank of the toilet. Even bending down made her head fill with the pounding beat of her heart, every pulse seeming to try and push her brain out of her skull through her eyes and ears. She nearly blacked out as she sat down.
The next thing Ashira knew, she was doubled over her sink, dry-heaving, her fireproof pants pulled back up around her waist but neither zipped shut nor clipped together at the front. She knew for certain that nothing had come up, because she was newly aware of the desiccated dryness in her mouth and throat, as if all her flesh had been replaced with fine-grit sandpaper. Still lacking the resolve to open her eyes, she blindly clawed at the knobs of the sink until water began to pour, and then began scooping handfuls of it into her mouth.
After a few gulps, she began to feel a bit better. Her mouth, though it still felt dry as ever, was at least now rid of the horrible, sour, metallic taste that she hadn't registered until it was gone, and the unintentional splashing of water onto her face did wonders in helping her start to truly wake up. The very next instant, though, a numbing pain spread across her hands and face, and down her throat. The water was freezing cold.
That didn't deter Ashira, though, and she kept drinking until she knew that she would not be able to swallow a drop more without throwing up. Her hands were numb from the frigid water, as was her face. Icy rivulets streamed down her chin and throat and under her unzipped collar, leaving cool, glistening trails across her breasts and stomach.
Somehow, this numbness that spread across her fingers and cheeks seemed to have carried over to her hangover, as well, though whether it was the rapid cooling, or the much-needed hydration, or both, she neither knew nor cared. Her head now hurt with the intensity of just any old headache, her skin did not feel two sizes too small for her organs, and her muscles and joints barely ached with any more intensity than they usually did.
She opened her eyes for the first time since she'd gotten out of bed, ready and eager to take full advantage of her hangover cure while its effects still lasted, and almost fell over as she stumbled away from the mirror in shock. The reflection in the mirror was decidedly not her.
Bloodshot eyes stared out at her from dark, sunken orbits; two craters on a puffy face rendered a waxy, pale bluish lilac by months of near-total involuntary isolation from the daylight. Raven hair framed that lifeless visage, once kept neat and short, now a wild, greasy, and, above all, long Seetcha's nest. It had once had lively sun-bleached streaks where her beret and headset did not fully cover it, from when she would ride head-out in her trusty command Ishtarti-603, but they were now mere faded tips spread unevenly through the carbon-black tangle.
The rest of her was not in much better shape. Her bust, though always on the fuller size, was nonetheless noticeably larger than it had been the last time Ashira had inspected her reflection, and doubtless was the cause of her incessant back pain. In the same moment, she became aware that her breasts rested not against the top of her six-pack - which, while rarely worked out and never particularly defined, had, in its mere presence, still been a point of quiet pride for her - but at the upper limits of a beer gut, whose faint outline was visible even under the baggy suit she was wearing for the umpteenth day in a row, and which stood as a testament to the inertia she had descended into while trying to force the RAR into motion.
'Fuck, there's the evidence of my battle. Mom was right, I do eat like a Turox before the slaughter. I have no self-control. Why do I even bother with this restructuring business if I can't even keep to my own damn fitness goals?' Her gloom, though deep and all-consuming while it weighed upon her soul, dissipated just as quickly as it set in. 'But I knew it would happen, so why does it surprise me? I knew going in that I was burning myself up in the present to keep future me warm. It's just a few kilos. A dozen at most. No big deal. Just need a bit more exercise for a month or two and I'll be right back in parade shape!'
It did, however, make her think to place an order with the on-base supply depot for some new clothes. With the Unification Day festivities looming, it would simply not do for this quite temporary distortion of her Noble figure to be so brazen, she firmly decided.
The order would have to wait, however. When Ashira brought out her government-issued Data-Slate from her front pocket in a familiar motion, already compiling a list of all the workout gear, field uniforms, and parade garb she would need in a size up, the device, in an apparent bout of unruliness, first resisted her efforts to turn it on, and when it was finally made to do so, simply boot-looped endlessly on the startup screen. For all intents and purposes, it was a Slate-shaped paperweight, and Ashira didn’t even have enough physical documents in her possession to make use of this one purpose it had left.
‘First my clothes, now the one Slate mom can’t track me on. What’s next, is my ID going to expire all of a sudden? Will my physical Chit card have a bad contact?’
There was only so much she could take at one time, so she decided to do the sensible thing and get something to eat before returning to dealing with her problems. She pulled out her Slate. It was almost noon.
'No one needs to see me like this. How can I command the regiment if they see me in such a state? I'll order breakfast - well, lunch now, but who's really counting? - and I can join everyone for dinner, once I get a chance to order in some new clothes, and shower, and maybe do something with my hair.'
With a practiced motion, so automatic it was almost a reflex, she swiped through the interface until she found what she was looking for. There, between Combatters forum sites, was a saved page for the Hungry Gal's order menu. Her chit was already saved in the system. All she needed was to tap on "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" and…
CHIT DECLINED - PAYMENT BLOCKED
"That can't be right," Ashira muttered aloud as she tapped the button again, over and over, to the same effect. "It's a government card. Unless- ah, right, it must be the new policy they were talking about! Can't believe they made food expenses count as personal expenditure only, the nerve of these credit-pinching…"
She went into the payment details section of the page, switched the number to her personal one, and selected "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" again. This time, a new message appeared.
INVALID ACCOUNT - DEACTIVATED
The gnawing hunger in her stomach disappeared in an instant, replaced by a solid iron bar of dread. Why was her account deactivated? Who could have done it? The only other person with access privileges was her own mother, and why would she…?
Ashira knew the answer. She didn't want to know it, to acknowledge that she knew it for fear of what it meant, but she did. With shaking hands, she opened the notification screen of her Slate, and saw she had unread messages from her family group chat. She tapped that notification, expecting a deluge of fury about her weight, her spending habits, her slovenly appearance in public, or any manner of other things, but there was but one message, sent earlier that morning. It was from her mother, indeed, but it was just four words long.
I got the letter.
She wanted to protest, to scream, "What letter could you possibly mean?," but she couldn't. A memory, hazy from the fog of insomnia that had dulled her thoughts at the time, played against her volition in her mind. The words hadn't made sense to her then, but they did now. Robotically, she closed the message from her mother and searched through her inbox for one marked with a government seal. She opened it, and read it in silence. The last few lines were the hardest to read, because by then the tears had begun to well up in her eyes.
It was over. Her career, her noble status, her finances, her life as she knew it… they were all gone, and it had taken just one letter to send it all crashing down.
submitted by Cocao_Nibs to Sexyspacebabes [link] [comments]
Well, it only took Canada burning and the East Coast turning into smoky rendition of a Mexico filter for this chapter to finally reach completion. Regularly-scheduled programming should hopefully resume after July 4th. Until then, drink some water, don't do gender reveals in the forest, and hang in there, guys!
Pursuant to Imperial Decree 10928, and in recognition of the reservist nature of the unit, the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment has been found to satisfy the standards outlined in the Decree. However, in light of the significant budget and nonmaterial resource allocations that were required to bring the aforementioned unit up to levels considered satisfactory by existing standards, additional considerations beyond readiness and training levels must be taken into account.
Throughout the appeals process, you have repeatedly indicated that you believe rocket artillery to still have a place on the modern battlefield, citing recent reports from the Terran Planetary District command of the Sol System sector, as well as early after-action reports from the Intervention on Raknos, which you claim to support your argument. However, further investigation into this claim by independent analysts on behalf of Armored Warfare Command has found it to hold no merit in light of the recent restructuring outlined in detail in prior communications. Simply put, neither the Empress, nor her advisors, believe that the maintenance and garrisoning of units intended strictly for low-intensity counter-insurgency operations remains doctrinally viable.
Additionally, the excessive monetary and nonmonetary resources you requested in preparation for the evaluation, in light of the on-par, verging on substandard performance of the 1st Rocket Artillery Regiment, even accounting for the large number of fresh troops that needed to be drawn down from other posts to fill out its ranks, is highly suggestive on the part of you, the honorable Ashira Rakishal. This discrepancy is of high importance, and you may rest assured that it has already been publicly filed by the time this letter appears in your inbox.
Such a discrepancy is indicative of either incompetence or corruption on your part. Commanding officers may face demotion or a possible dishonorable discharge for the former, or, for the latter, a fine totalling no more than one-and-a-half times the estimated sum of the damages assessed, guaranteed dishonorable discharge and a potential prison term of no more than four years. Due to there being no evidence to suggest the latter, the former approach has been suggested by the Armored Warfare Command. Effective fourteen (14) days after this order is signed, your rank will be reduced and you will be relieved of commanding the Regiment. You may be restationed at this time, and your government-issued devices may be deactivated to facilitate this restationing. The 1st Rocket Artillery Division, in accordance with Decree 10928, will be dissolved and its assets relocated to other units wherever possible. Any remaining property will be auctioned under section 12.57.3(g) of the Naval and Marine Surplus Handling Act of 651 at the Val’tira Central Forwarding Depot.
Ashira finished reading the letter, but the words meant nothing to her. She hadn't slept in half a week, if not longer, in anticipation of the results from her hearing. In fact, she'd hardly gotten up from her desk; the 1st RAR was on leave until the final verdict would be announced publicly, and it was all she could do but to refresh her inbox every few minutes and watch mindless clips in the background that she hardly heard and never managed to remember a word from.
She tried reading it again, but the letters seemed to float off the screen, each one wrapped in a halo of bluish white screen glow. Nothing made sense.
'We were found to be satisfactory, but then… why does it talk about my rank? Am I getting promoted? There was something about dishonorable discharges, too, so… are some of my girls getting let go? I guess I will have to break the news to them. And it said something about budget overruns… well, mom still owes me from when she forgot to get me anything for my eighteenth last month, so I guess she can pay them back for all the equipment and training I had to authorize…'
Her thoughts were already drifting off into a vague haze when her stomach made a low noise, reminding her of the fact that she hadn't eaten in hours, mostly because her supply of food had run dry. Almost in a trance, she rose from her desk and, almost on autopilot, set about getting ready to go out and do some shopping, as she always did. The floor of her living quarters was almost entirely hidden by weeks-old discarded packaging, mountains of dirty clothes, and bottles half-filled with liquid that was either expired juice or urine. Narrow paths snaked through the mess; one to the bathroom, one to her bed, and one more still to the door, which she now slowly shambled towards.
Ashira pulled a pair of battered combat boots over her bare feet - she'd run out of socks that didn't offend her senses some weeks prior - without bothering to lace them, shoved her wallet into the front pocket of the fireproof jumpsuit she wore with absolutely nothing underneath and hadn't changed out of all week, and shoved the door open to head out. Immediately, the smell - or, perhaps, a lack thereof - of the corridor hit her. All the sleeping quarters were locked. It was quiet. Though her boots were heavy, her footsteps barely made a noise as she plodded along the thick, purple and topaz-blue carpet that lined the floor.
The door to the lobby was propped open by a cleaner's cart, and a heavy perfume of chemical detergents wafted through the opening as she approached. In the lobby was a small, older Helkam male, with his long and, in places, graying hair tied back with a beige bandana that matched his civilian contractor's coveralls, just as his green noise-canceling headphones matched the company logo on his uniform. He was dutifully mopping the already nigh-spotless polished stone floor, and there was only a narrow dry strip connecting doorway to doorway.
“‘Scuse me,” she mumbled, tapping him on the shoulder to alert him to her presence. “Coming through.”
He flinched away from her touch, and she flinched away from him, as though his own shock was contagious. “The fuck, you touch me!?” He exclaimed, whipping around to face her, mop at the ready like a Turox-prod. His face burned a pale but furious violet, contorted with fear and a readiness to fight. But, just as suddenly as he’d come to face her, his expression became one of confusion. His mop dipped down, and they stood in silence for a split second that seemed to drag on for entire minutes. Then, he made an odd face, as if of disgust or contempt, and stepped aside, motioning for her to pass by him.
Ashira would have been puzzled by this, if only she were not so frazzled and caught up in her own thoughts. She stepped outside and was immediately hit by a cool breeze; it was night out, and the wind blew in just as it always did. Not that it bothered her much; over the previous months, she had found that it didn’t seem to affect her very much. The only reason she wasn’t feeling the full brunt of the evening gales was that the buildings around the officer’s quarters were mostly two- and three-story affairs, their height and old, weathered stone cladding the last specters of the prominence and prestige the base enjoyed in the long-before times. Before the Unification Wars were but a distant memory. Before the Periphery had become the final, unconquerable frontier. Before the Empress-damned mess that was Raknos. Before Rocket Artillery had become hopelessly obsolete.
The wind blew, relentless and steadfast, as she trudged towards the only place on-base that still had its lights on. The general store. She didn’t know what she wanted to buy there, nor if there would indeed be anything on the shelves that she’d want to buy, but she felt she had to try, anyway. The only rest she could get now was chemically-assisted, either through over-the-counter sleeping pills, or copious volumes of booze, or, when the going got particularly rough, a combination of both. She was vaguely aware of the damage she was probably inflicting upon her organs, but she figured that they were a worthy sacrifice. Still, some days she couldn't fall asleep, even boozed up and medicated as much as she would dare, so she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping that the splitting headaches she would get from that chemical cocktail would make her ears ring loud enough to drown out her intrusive thoughts.
The store wasn't particularly warm when she entered, and it reeked of cigarette smoke and mildew as always. The nearest set of shelves to the door were stocked with bags of some sort of imported breaded meat snacks labeled Pufriyah - Ancestral Recipe, Modern Taste! across the top shelf and cases of Red Grains across the bottom, as if some long-forgotten planner had seen into the future and anticipated Ashira's shopping habits exactly. Without much thought, she pulled a case of the Reds off the bottom shelf, her back, which had been sore for months by then, crying out in pain that just barely cut through her apathy. She threw a few bags of the Pufriyah snacks on top of it, entirely indifferent to their name, slogan, and brown-furred chibi mascot that spoke to their Rakiri intended consumer base.
'It's all just carbs and protein at the end of the day,' she figured. It wasn't like she could taste much of them anyway, had she really cared to learn their flavor. It was close to a month prior that she'd caught a nasty cold, and her constant sleep deprivation and stress hadn't lent themselves to it clearing itself up on its own. Her senses of taste and smell were unnecessary to her whipping her unit into shape, she'd decided, once she learned that the antivirals she needed to take to make her symptoms clear up would need her to be on bed rest for three straight days. She could always take them later, anyway.
The bottles of Red Grain clanked against each other as Ashira heaved the case onto the checkout counter. The bags on top of it slid off, and she only just caught them in time. The noise awoke the lone cashier, another civilian contractor, from her nap atop her wobbly three-legged stool. She quite inelegantly hopped off of it and came to lean against the counter with one hand, the other lazily waving the scanner of a specialized Data-Slate over the merchandise.
"ID for the Reds," the cashier groggily slurred out, patting down her many pockets in search of a cigarette box. "Standard procedure, nothing personal against you."
Ashira stared at her, dumbfounded, for a few moments too many, before it hit her that she needed to pull up her Marine Profile on her Slate. Mumbling an apology mixed with an excuse, she reached into one of the few - albeit cavernously huge - pockets of her fireproof suit and produced the grimy government-issue device in question. The lock screen was set to her ID, just to make such common interactions go by quicker.
She pushed the Slate across the counter, expecting to get it slid back to her in a few moments, and maybe a manufactured smile and a nod if the cashier noticed the Rakishal House crest in the corner and realized she was of noble blood. But this time, none of that happened. The woman across from her frowned, squinting as she analyzed something about the ID, her face no more than perhaps a few centimeters from it. She looked up at Ashira, then back down at the ID, then back at her, and then all of a sudden her confusion melted into some odd mixture of shock and disgust. She wordlessly pushed the Slate back across the counter, scanned the case of Red Grain, and then motioned to a now very baffled and somewhat offended Ashira that she was free to leave.
In her sleep-deprived state, Ashira had barely the mental capacity to remember where the door was, much less to ponder the deeper meaning behind what had transpired. Vowing to come back the next day, after getting a good night's sleep, and get the insolent cashier fired, she trudged out of the shop, back to the officers' quarters, where the Helkam man was still toiling away in the lobby, now wiping down the Turox-leather seats, and into her own suite.
She brushed the most egregious of the trash from her bed, with the arm that wasn't clutching the spoils of her trek to her chest, and allowed gravity to gracelessly guide her into its soft, fitted-sheet embrace. With a sigh of barely-felt relief, she cracked the cap off her first bottle with her tusks and took a long, well-earned swig.
The next thing she knew, it was morning.
Everything hurt. Ashira's muscles all ached like she'd run every Deathshead Commando bootcamp course, back-to-back, without stopping. Her head felt like a bloated, rotten gourd, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Even though her eyes were closed, what little light made it through them felt as though it was piercing straight through her eyeballs and into her brain. However, through it all, she noted an odd, almost pleasant sensation that she hadn't felt in so long, she'd almost forgotten the word for it.
'Empress all-powerful, this must be the first time in almost a year that I've had a full night's sleep!'
Ashira would have kept laying there, exactly where she was. The room was quiet. No one needed her. Her unit was stood down for another few days. She could just stay in bed, in peace, and wait for the pain to subside. But the very second she considered that possibility, her bladder cried in agony, and she simultaneously came to the realizations that she would not be able to hold it in for even a minute longer, and that she was wearing her only set of relatively-clean clothes.
She pushed herself up and onto her feet, and that motion sent showers of sparks cascading through her vision, even as her eyes stayed firmly shut. Her ears rang from the pain as though she'd stuck her head between the prongs of a colossal tuning fork, her limbs felt numb as she stumbled through her room, and the only way she could tell up from down was from the direction gravity kept pulling her every time she lost her balance.
She hit the door frame to the bathroom by chance, only recognizing it as the right one by the light switch her elbow painfully caught. From there, she went entirely by feel. There was the sink, the towel rack, the soap dispenser, the shower door… and finally, having run out of wrong things to blindly grope around for, her hand bumped into the tank of the toilet. Even bending down made her head fill with the pounding beat of her heart, every pulse seeming to try and push her brain out of her skull through her eyes and ears. She nearly blacked out as she sat down.
The next thing Ashira knew, she was doubled over her sink, dry-heaving, her fireproof pants pulled back up around her waist but neither zipped shut nor clipped together at the front. She knew for certain that nothing had come up, because she was newly aware of the desiccated dryness in her mouth and throat, as if all her flesh had been replaced with fine-grit sandpaper. Still lacking the resolve to open her eyes, she blindly clawed at the knobs of the sink until water began to pour, and then began scooping handfuls of it into her mouth.
After a few gulps, she began to feel a bit better. Her mouth, though it still felt dry as ever, was at least now rid of the horrible, sour, metallic taste that she hadn't registered until it was gone, and the unintentional splashing of water onto her face did wonders in helping her start to truly wake up. The very next instant, though, a numbing pain spread across her hands and face, and down her throat. The water was freezing cold.
That didn't deter Ashira, though, and she kept drinking until she knew that she would not be able to swallow a drop more without throwing up. Her hands were numb from the frigid water, as was her face. Icy rivulets streamed down her chin and throat and under her unzipped collar, leaving cool, glistening trails across her breasts and stomach.
Somehow, this numbness that spread across her fingers and cheeks seemed to have carried over to her hangover, as well, though whether it was the rapid cooling, or the much-needed hydration, or both, she neither knew nor cared. Her head now hurt with the intensity of just any old headache, her skin did not feel two sizes too small for her organs, and her muscles and joints barely ached with any more intensity than they usually did.
She opened her eyes for the first time since she'd gotten out of bed, ready and eager to take full advantage of her hangover cure while its effects still lasted, and almost fell over as she stumbled away from the mirror in shock. The reflection in the mirror was decidedly not her.
Bloodshot eyes stared out at her from dark, sunken orbits; two craters on a puffy face rendered a waxy, pale bluish lilac by months of near-total involuntary isolation from the daylight. Raven hair framed that lifeless visage, once kept neat and short, now a wild, greasy, and, above all, long Seetcha's nest. It had once had lively sun-bleached streaks where her beret and headset did not fully cover it, from when she would ride head-out in her trusty command Ishtarti-603, but they were now mere faded tips spread unevenly through the carbon-black tangle.
The rest of her was not in much better shape. Her bust, though always on the fuller size, was nonetheless noticeably larger than it had been the last time Ashira had inspected her reflection, and doubtless was the cause of her incessant back pain. In the same moment, she became aware that her breasts rested not against the top of her six-pack - which, while rarely worked out and never particularly defined, had, in its mere presence, still been a point of quiet pride for her - but at the upper limits of a beer gut, whose faint outline was visible even under the baggy suit she was wearing for the umpteenth day in a row, and which stood as a testament to the inertia she had descended into while trying to force the RAR into motion.
'Fuck, there's the evidence of my battle. Mom was right, I do eat like a Turox before the slaughter. I have no self-control. Why do I even bother with this restructuring business if I can't even keep to my own damn fitness goals?' Her gloom, though deep and all-consuming while it weighed upon her soul, dissipated just as quickly as it set in. 'But I knew it would happen, so why does it surprise me? I knew going in that I was burning myself up in the present to keep future me warm. It's just a few kilos. A dozen at most. No big deal. Just need a bit more exercise for a month or two and I'll be right back in parade shape!'
It did, however, make her think to place an order with the on-base supply depot for some new clothes. With the Unification Day festivities looming, it would simply not do for this quite temporary distortion of her Noble figure to be so brazen, she firmly decided.
The order would have to wait, however. When Ashira brought out her government-issued Data-Slate from her front pocket in a familiar motion, already compiling a list of all the workout gear, field uniforms, and parade garb she would need in a size up, the device, in an apparent bout of unruliness, first resisted her efforts to turn it on, and when it was finally made to do so, simply boot-looped endlessly on the startup screen. For all intents and purposes, it was a Slate-shaped paperweight, and Ashira didn’t even have enough physical documents in her possession to make use of this one purpose it had left.
‘First my clothes, now the one Slate mom can’t track me on. What’s next, is my ID going to expire all of a sudden? Will my physical Chit card have a bad contact?’
There was only so much she could take at one time, so she decided to do the sensible thing and get something to eat before returning to dealing with her problems. She pulled out her Slate. It was almost noon.
'No one needs to see me like this. How can I command the regiment if they see me in such a state? I'll order breakfast - well, lunch now, but who's really counting? - and I can join everyone for dinner, once I get a chance to order in some new clothes, and shower, and maybe do something with my hair.'
With a practiced motion, so automatic it was almost a reflex, she swiped through the interface until she found what she was looking for. There, between Combatters forum sites, was a saved page for the Hungry Gal's order menu. Her chit was already saved in the system. All she needed was to tap on "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" and…
CHIT DECLINED - PAYMENT BLOCKED
"That can't be right," Ashira muttered aloud as she tapped the button again, over and over, to the same effect. "It's a government card. Unless- ah, right, it must be the new policy they were talking about! Can't believe they made food expenses count as personal expenditure only, the nerve of these credit-pinching…"
She went into the payment details section of the page, switched the number to her personal one, and selected "Large Hot Meal #5 - Drink Combo" again. This time, a new message appeared.
INVALID ACCOUNT - DEACTIVATED
The gnawing hunger in her stomach disappeared in an instant, replaced by a solid iron bar of dread. Why was her account deactivated? Who could have done it? The only other person with access privileges was her own mother, and why would she…?
Ashira knew the answer. She didn't want to know it, to acknowledge that she knew it for fear of what it meant, but she did. With shaking hands, she opened the notification screen of her Slate, and saw she had unread messages from her family group chat. She tapped that notification, expecting a deluge of fury about her weight, her spending habits, her slovenly appearance in public, or any manner of other things, but there was but one message, sent earlier that morning. It was from her mother, indeed, but it was just four words long.
I got the letter.
She wanted to protest, to scream, "What letter could you possibly mean?," but she couldn't. A memory, hazy from the fog of insomnia that had dulled her thoughts at the time, played against her volition in her mind. The words hadn't made sense to her then, but they did now. Robotically, she closed the message from her mother and searched through her inbox for one marked with a government seal. She opened it, and read it in silence. The last few lines were the hardest to read, because by then the tears had begun to well up in her eyes.
It was over. Her career, her noble status, her finances, her life as she knew it… they were all gone, and it had taken just one letter to send it all crashing down.
2023.06.08 17:00 bob_dabuilda Baddies concept art for fiction Baddies video game
I think it would be dope if they made a Baddies fighting video game like Mortal Kombat, with side missions like Grand Theft Auto. The side missions could be recording a song (Rollie), gaining gang turf (Stunna) or cultivating weed farmsshoe. Here's how I'd envision the character looks:
Razor -a deep purple bodysuit with a keyhole front. Lots of skin to show off the tats. Her look is part of the inspiration because gamers would love her crossover.
Stunna- gets a western cowgirl theme with chaps, since shes from Sac and Old Sac has 1850's western style architecture and roads. I see her look with lots of browns and blacks and a gun holster. She'll have silver chains that match the silver spurs on her boots. Her look is on slide 2. Her special move is calling her cousins to shoot the opponent up.
Tommie-Gets the Tommie shades with that thong I'm jeans look. Her special moves are using a tazer and calling her crew to jump in.
Scotty -gotta get that Starburst pink. Or that blue look from the reunion. Hernsecondary looknwould be a sexy DragonBall Z uniform since she's a fan of the show.
Natalie- that leopard madame look from the intro. She sits on that throne as well and her special move is to have that throne land on the opponent and she walks on them.
Rollie- that baby blue bodysuit, and she gets that wig that was half up, half down. If she loses a round she pulls off her wig to get ready for round 2.
Bri- that Cammi inspired look from when she fought Ann.
submitted by bob_dabuilda to BadGirlsClub [link] [comments]
Razor -a deep purple bodysuit with a keyhole front. Lots of skin to show off the tats. Her look is part of the inspiration because gamers would love her crossover.
Stunna- gets a western cowgirl theme with chaps, since shes from Sac and Old Sac has 1850's western style architecture and roads. I see her look with lots of browns and blacks and a gun holster. She'll have silver chains that match the silver spurs on her boots. Her look is on slide 2. Her special move is calling her cousins to shoot the opponent up.
Tommie-Gets the Tommie shades with that thong I'm jeans look. Her special moves are using a tazer and calling her crew to jump in.
Scotty -gotta get that Starburst pink. Or that blue look from the reunion. Hernsecondary looknwould be a sexy DragonBall Z uniform since she's a fan of the show.
Natalie- that leopard madame look from the intro. She sits on that throne as well and her special move is to have that throne land on the opponent and she walks on them.
Rollie- that baby blue bodysuit, and she gets that wig that was half up, half down. If she loses a round she pulls off her wig to get ready for round 2.
Bri- that Cammi inspired look from when she fought Ann.
2023.06.08 12:22 PatrollinTheMojave Shadowpact #9 - Wanted Dead or Alive
DC Next presents:
Issue Four: Wanted Dead or Alive
Written by PatrollinTheMojave
Edited by GemlinTheGremlin
Next Issue > Coming Next Month
Heat shimmered off the pavement in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. The tiny town nestled between the desert hills of the Southwest felt like a kiln, and Rory Regan was baking. “Remind me again--” He huffed between words, “--why are we walking?”
“If Destruction wanted to be found, the Lords of Chaos would’ve done it already. If Destruction is here, he’d pick up on a teleport before we stepped through and I don’t want us burning our only lead.” Traci said, adjusting her black sunhat to wipe beads of sweat from her forehead.
“It could be worse.” Sherry said with an encouraging smile. “It’s a dry heat.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss Gotham.” Rory looked around at the rest of the Shadowpact for a similar discomfort. His sweat was making the rags cling to his skin. “Jim. How are you not sweating? You must be wearing fifty pounds of metal.”
Jim shrugged. “Magic.”
“Of course.” Rory groaned. “Ruin?”
Ruin quirked an eyebrow and planted their feet. They’d been walking around in their signature trench coat for miles and not lost the spring in their step. They curiously pulled a finger along their forearm. “I don’t think I sweat.”
“And I guess you have some magical charm that makes you resistant to heat, Traci?”
“Yeah. It’s called being raised in Nevada.” She snorted. “Hey, Ruin. We need to keep--” Her gaze drifted up to the quaint wooden building they’d chosen to stop. A woodburnt sign hanging above the door read ‘Tumbleweed Saloon & Inn.’ She smiled. “Rory, good news. We’re here.”
Sherry looked over the saloon. Where the others had picked up sand and sweat on the long trek over, she didn’t have a hair out of place. Sherry looked like she’d stepped out of an advertisement. Her only sign of wear was the suspicion sitting behind her eyes. “You really think Destruction is here?”
“I’m not getting my hopes up.” Traci said. “The Lords of Chaos only felt a twinge, but it’s all we’ve got.”
Rory shot through the swinging saloon doors with a speed he’d lost 10 miles earlier. Ruin was just behind him, their pure black eyes pulling in every detail. Half of the space was devoted to racks and shelves of Old West merchandise; cheap hats, plastic guns, and sheriff badges. The other side of the establishment was a small bar and a few tables. The bartender wiped the bored expression from his face as the Shadowpact entered.
“We’re in a real Wild West saloon!” Ruin hurried into the merchandise section.
“Welcome to the Tumbleweed Saloon. What brings you folks into town?” The bartender said.
“I’m looking for a guy, big-looking, probably. Have you seen anyone like that? He might’ve broken something.” Traci said. She wished she had more to go off.
“We get a lot of tourists.” The man raised an eyebrow. “Wait, are you from the Justice Legion? When are you going to send those people from other universes back home? Did you catch the guy responsible yet?”
Traci exhaled sharply. “We’re here about his brother, actually.”
The clatter of hoofbeats on asphalt clicked outside, followed by the heavy footfalls of someone dropping from a horse.
“Do you get many riders out here?” Jim asked. The bartender shook his head and Jim moved a hand to his sword’s pommel. The rider walked to the saloon door. The figure was in shining white leather boots and pants to match. The peak of a stetson of the same color poked out above the saloon doors.
“I know where to find the man you’re looking for.” The doors swung open to reveal the sheet-pale face of White Stag. The only spot of color was a turquoise bolo tie around his neck and the gold-inlay guard of the rapier at his side. His opaque glasses reflected the light. Jim leapt to his feet and pulled the Sword of Night from its sheath with a metallic shtang. White Stag just raised his hands apprehensively. “While you’ve correctly surmised I am interested a rematch, Jim, I think I’d better explain myself first.”
Jim glanced at Traci, who gave him a nod. Jim lowered his sword but kept it unsheathed. “Talk.” Jim spat.
White Stag reached into his buttoned vest and pulled a cigar, then a lighter. He flicked a few times, then held the flame to the cigar’s tip. Once lit, White Stag took a deep drag and blew a ring of smoke in front of his face. “I am here for a duel with the Destroyer of Myrrha.”
"Myrrha's not destroyed!" Jim gripped the handle of the Sword of Night. "I've been locked off from it. I will find a way back!"
"No.” White Stag walked over to the bar and took a seat. He didn’t bother turning around to address Jim. “No, it's not been destroyed yet. But it's Destruction you're after, and you'll find the Endless on the road you take to meet them. Miss Witch would know about that. How well do you sleep at night, Traci?"
The answer was an uncomfortable silence. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Rory said.
“I knew to come here, didn’t I?”
“So after I defeat you in this duel, you’ll tell us where to find Destruction?” Jim said.
White Stag gave a thin-lipped smile. “After the duel, I’ll tell you where he is.”
“You tricked us last time. What’s the trick this time?” Jim said.
“The trick? I’m faster than you, Jim. That’s all I need to win. Blades at dawn, at the old train tracks.”
“At dawn?” Jim shook his head. “We fight now. We don’t have time to waste.”
“Where’s your flair for the dramatic, Jim? Let’s let the tension build for a few hours more. It’s not like you’re in a position to dictate terms.” White Stag stood from the bar.
“I don’t know who you are.” Sherry said. “But this sounds like a big misunderstanding. We’re trying to help people.”
“Who I am? I’m the good guy, Sheridan. And you’re the latest person to sign onto the Shadowpact, which must mean you’re trying to help yourself.” White Stag looked at Jim. “Blades. Dawn. Don’t be late.” He walked through the saloon doors and saddled up his horse while the Shadowpact watched in silence.
He’d only been gone a few seconds when Rory said. “Why not fight him now? Force him to tell us what he knows.”
Jim shook his head. “We need to play his games. He knows more than he’s letting on. And he knows about Myrrha.” A hint of desperation crept into his voice. “He could be holding all of Myrrha hostage, for all we know.”
“Myrrha? I’m unfamiliar with this realm.” Sherry said.
Jim rolled his shoulders back, staring down at the ground. “When I was twelve, I went into the back room of a record store and ended up in a medieval world full of adventure and magic. Years later, I mastered the Sword of Night and started using it to move between realities. Last year, I went to sleep in Myrrha and woke up on Earth. I haven’t been able to return there since. I hate to think what could have happened to it without its protector.”
The display racks rattled and Rory raised his fists on instinct. The rags crawled along his body, ready to strike. It was Ruin rushing out of the merchandise section, covered in cowboy gear. A pair of embossed brown leather boots replaced their usual black strap-ups. They wore a ten-gallon hat and held a cheap revolver toy in each hand. “This town ain’t big enough for the six of us!” They said in their best kitsch Western accent.
A hard glance from Jim sent Ruin withdrawing back into the gift shop, holstering their ‘weapons’. Traci spoke quietly. “Why don’t I get us all rooms for tonight. We can rest and be refreshed in the morning.” She looked up at the bartender. He was still trembling from the standoff moments ago. “Six rooms, please.”
A few hours later, Traci was doomscrolling the front page of KordConnect for articles on the Reawakening. A knock at the door pulled her out of it. “Be right there, just-- uh-- meditating!” She hopped off her bed and walked to the door.
“It’s Rory!”
Traci opened the door. He was uncostumed. His sympathetic face was incongruous with the harsh features of the suit of rags. “Hey, Traci. Can I come in?”
“What’s up?” She stood aside and Rory sat on the bed. “It seemed like what White Stag said affected you.”
“That’s what you’re here for? You don’t have to worry about someone hurting my feelings.” She laughed.
Rory relaxed his posture. “Well, I’m glad, but it’s okay if you’re hurting. That… stuff with Dream. You did what you had to. I miss John too.”
Traci’s grin drooped and she let herself fall back onto the bed. She paused, then: “Dream made me an offer. Become his warlock, like Darhk was.”
“His-- his warlock? Like work for him? What are you going to say?”
“I turned him down. There’s always, always some all-powerful asshole fucking with me and my friends. HIVE, Neron, Darhk, Dream. Dream’s just as responsible for what John… became. And if becoming Dream’s warlock means I end up like Damien Darhk, then I just-- ugh!” She grunted, trailing off.
“But, knowing you, you’re wondering if you could beat the Heavenly Host if you said yes.”
“Not just them.” Traci sat up. “Bring Jim to Myrrha. Fix the Reawakening. Actually set up some magical safety nets that I haven’t jury-rigged from lamb’s spit and a spell I found on Quora. Y’know, all of it.”
Rory turned to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Traci, you’re the best spellcaster I’ve ever met. You literally saved the universe and you’re still doing more. We’re going to win, and we’re going to do it with or without Dream, OK?”
A cool morning held out against the stinging New Mexico heat, the sun not yet peaked over the hills surrounding Truth or Consequences. Jim walked at the head of the Shadowpact. He saw White Stag and his horse for a mile on the approach. It was a huge thing, its coat the same brilliant white sheen as the rest of Stag’s possessions. It’d been hitched up to a railway spike.
Ruin remained in their store-bought cowboy ensemble. The group were all still a minute’s walk from White Stag when Ruin called out, “Why are you doing this?” They hurried forward, breaking into a jog past the group, despite Jim’s protests.
Traci readied a spell, just in case. “You said you’re the good guy. Jim’s not perfect, but he’s good too. You don’t have to fight.” Ruin looked different that morning in a way that was hard to place. Their silhouette was fuzzy. At a glance, they looked vague and undefined, as though it took a few seconds for them to render in view. It didn’t seem to slow them down any, though at times they seemed to wince to themself
White Stag shook his head. “There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to fight.” His voice took on a bit of twang at odds with his usual refined accent.
“But why Nightmaster?”
“Every day Jim wakes up in this world, he hates it a little more. He hates the toil, the uncertainty. Mostly, he hates that here, he’s not the best. He’s a middling swordsman and a below average hero on Earth.”
Jim said nothing, staring daggers.
“And that’s why I want my duel. You don’t belong in these parts, Jim.”
“You’re a madman.” Jim said. “Playing with the lives of innocents in these stupid games.” He approached, grinding his feet into the gravel to keep from lashing out in rage.
“Playing?” White Stag’s faux accent dropped. “‘Well, I suppose I am having a great deal of fun.” A sliver of sunrise poked over the horizon. In a flash that just caught the few drops of light to trickle onto the tracks, White Stag pulled his rapier. It sliced across Nightmaster’s armor like tissue paper, leaving a long red cut across his chest. Jim grunted and drew his sword.
Sherry took a step forward, but Jim held his hand out to stop her “No!” Jim said. “If you intervene, he won’t give us what we need.”
“Old dogs can learn new tricks, it seems.” White Stag lunged, but this time his blade was batted away by the Sword of Night.
Jim went for a riposte. White Stag sideswiped and the heavy broadsword cut through the air, thunking against the railway tracks. White Stag retaliated, raking another slash across Jim’s side. Jim fell to a knee.
“Yield.” White Stag said. He didn’t get an answer. “I think your man is finished.” He turned to the rest of the Shadowpact, giving Jim the opening to grab a handful of gravel and throw it in White Stag’s face. Stag recoiled and Jim forced himself up using his sword, using the momentum to swing it into White Stag’s flank. It only made the lightest of contact, but the pale red of blood spreading through White Stag’s vest was enough to bring Jim satisfaction.
Jim followed up with another attack, which White Stag evaded. This time, Jim sensed anger behind those opaque spectacles. White Stag parried Jim’s next attack. The second his opponent was off balance, White Stag whipped his rapier at Jim’s wrist. He winced in pain. Another well-placed kick from Stag and the sword went clattering to the side. Jim reached after it, in vain.
“Yield.” White Stag said, this time his voice firmer. Sherry had seen enough battles to see the tremor in Jim’s shoulders, to know what he was going to try next. She added to White Stag, “Yield, Jim. We’ll find another way.”
“I… yield.” Jim said with a bassy, hateful tone.
In an instant, White Stag withdrew his rapier and stepped back. “I wish I could say ‘well fought’, Jim.” White Stag brushed the gravel dust away and ignored his wound. “But I did say I’d tell you where to find Destruction.”
“But I lost.” Jim said, confused.
“Yes, you did. And you continue to lose every day you spend away from Myrrha, right?”
Jim stared at the ground, in a haze.
“You’ll find Destruction at Coast City.”
“Coast City? What would he be doing there?” Rory asked.
White Stag shrugged. “Paying his respects? In any case, I think this concludes our time together for now. I look forward to our next meeting, Jim.” He walked away from the Shadowpact, towards the vast empty desert.
“I don’t think so.” Sherry said. “Not until you answer whatever questions Jim has about Myrrha.”
“I don’t think that would benefit anyone, do you? A nice try at reconciliation, angel. Truly, living up to your occupation.” Sherry charged forward, prepared to take the brunt of any attack White Stag was capable of and tackle him to the ground. However, wInstead, when he swiped his sword it did not clash with Sherry; instead, a portal opened in the air.a quick swipe tore open a portal in the air, White Stag stepped through, and it vanished in an instant. Sherry ran straight past her target.
“His sword can open portals too?” Rory said.
Ruin ignored him and went to Jim’s side, helping him onto his feet. ”C’mon, partner.” Jim winced, taking their hand and slowly rising.
“We need to keep moving. I can bind that move, but there’s no telling how long Destruction will stay in one place. Next stop: Coast City.” Traci said.
submitted by PatrollinTheMojave to DCNext [link] [comments]
SHADOWPACT
In Heaven ForbidIssue Four: Wanted Dead or Alive
Written by PatrollinTheMojave
Edited by GemlinTheGremlin
Next Issue > Coming Next Month
“If Destruction wanted to be found, the Lords of Chaos would’ve done it already. If Destruction is here, he’d pick up on a teleport before we stepped through and I don’t want us burning our only lead.” Traci said, adjusting her black sunhat to wipe beads of sweat from her forehead.
“It could be worse.” Sherry said with an encouraging smile. “It’s a dry heat.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss Gotham.” Rory looked around at the rest of the Shadowpact for a similar discomfort. His sweat was making the rags cling to his skin. “Jim. How are you not sweating? You must be wearing fifty pounds of metal.”
Jim shrugged. “Magic.”
“Of course.” Rory groaned. “Ruin?”
Ruin quirked an eyebrow and planted their feet. They’d been walking around in their signature trench coat for miles and not lost the spring in their step. They curiously pulled a finger along their forearm. “I don’t think I sweat.”
“And I guess you have some magical charm that makes you resistant to heat, Traci?”
“Yeah. It’s called being raised in Nevada.” She snorted. “Hey, Ruin. We need to keep--” Her gaze drifted up to the quaint wooden building they’d chosen to stop. A woodburnt sign hanging above the door read ‘Tumbleweed Saloon & Inn.’ She smiled. “Rory, good news. We’re here.”
Sherry looked over the saloon. Where the others had picked up sand and sweat on the long trek over, she didn’t have a hair out of place. Sherry looked like she’d stepped out of an advertisement. Her only sign of wear was the suspicion sitting behind her eyes. “You really think Destruction is here?”
“I’m not getting my hopes up.” Traci said. “The Lords of Chaos only felt a twinge, but it’s all we’ve got.”
Rory shot through the swinging saloon doors with a speed he’d lost 10 miles earlier. Ruin was just behind him, their pure black eyes pulling in every detail. Half of the space was devoted to racks and shelves of Old West merchandise; cheap hats, plastic guns, and sheriff badges. The other side of the establishment was a small bar and a few tables. The bartender wiped the bored expression from his face as the Shadowpact entered.
“We’re in a real Wild West saloon!” Ruin hurried into the merchandise section.
“Welcome to the Tumbleweed Saloon. What brings you folks into town?” The bartender said.
“I’m looking for a guy, big-looking, probably. Have you seen anyone like that? He might’ve broken something.” Traci said. She wished she had more to go off.
“We get a lot of tourists.” The man raised an eyebrow. “Wait, are you from the Justice Legion? When are you going to send those people from other universes back home? Did you catch the guy responsible yet?”
Traci exhaled sharply. “We’re here about his brother, actually.”
The clatter of hoofbeats on asphalt clicked outside, followed by the heavy footfalls of someone dropping from a horse.
“Do you get many riders out here?” Jim asked. The bartender shook his head and Jim moved a hand to his sword’s pommel. The rider walked to the saloon door. The figure was in shining white leather boots and pants to match. The peak of a stetson of the same color poked out above the saloon doors.
“I know where to find the man you’re looking for.” The doors swung open to reveal the sheet-pale face of White Stag. The only spot of color was a turquoise bolo tie around his neck and the gold-inlay guard of the rapier at his side. His opaque glasses reflected the light. Jim leapt to his feet and pulled the Sword of Night from its sheath with a metallic shtang. White Stag just raised his hands apprehensively. “While you’ve correctly surmised I am interested a rematch, Jim, I think I’d better explain myself first.”
Jim glanced at Traci, who gave him a nod. Jim lowered his sword but kept it unsheathed. “Talk.” Jim spat.
White Stag reached into his buttoned vest and pulled a cigar, then a lighter. He flicked a few times, then held the flame to the cigar’s tip. Once lit, White Stag took a deep drag and blew a ring of smoke in front of his face. “I am here for a duel with the Destroyer of Myrrha.”
"Myrrha's not destroyed!" Jim gripped the handle of the Sword of Night. "I've been locked off from it. I will find a way back!"
"No.” White Stag walked over to the bar and took a seat. He didn’t bother turning around to address Jim. “No, it's not been destroyed yet. But it's Destruction you're after, and you'll find the Endless on the road you take to meet them. Miss Witch would know about that. How well do you sleep at night, Traci?"
The answer was an uncomfortable silence. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Rory said.
“I knew to come here, didn’t I?”
“So after I defeat you in this duel, you’ll tell us where to find Destruction?” Jim said.
White Stag gave a thin-lipped smile. “After the duel, I’ll tell you where he is.”
“You tricked us last time. What’s the trick this time?” Jim said.
“The trick? I’m faster than you, Jim. That’s all I need to win. Blades at dawn, at the old train tracks.”
“At dawn?” Jim shook his head. “We fight now. We don’t have time to waste.”
“Where’s your flair for the dramatic, Jim? Let’s let the tension build for a few hours more. It’s not like you’re in a position to dictate terms.” White Stag stood from the bar.
“I don’t know who you are.” Sherry said. “But this sounds like a big misunderstanding. We’re trying to help people.”
“Who I am? I’m the good guy, Sheridan. And you’re the latest person to sign onto the Shadowpact, which must mean you’re trying to help yourself.” White Stag looked at Jim. “Blades. Dawn. Don’t be late.” He walked through the saloon doors and saddled up his horse while the Shadowpact watched in silence.
He’d only been gone a few seconds when Rory said. “Why not fight him now? Force him to tell us what he knows.”
Jim shook his head. “We need to play his games. He knows more than he’s letting on. And he knows about Myrrha.” A hint of desperation crept into his voice. “He could be holding all of Myrrha hostage, for all we know.”
“Myrrha? I’m unfamiliar with this realm.” Sherry said.
Jim rolled his shoulders back, staring down at the ground. “When I was twelve, I went into the back room of a record store and ended up in a medieval world full of adventure and magic. Years later, I mastered the Sword of Night and started using it to move between realities. Last year, I went to sleep in Myrrha and woke up on Earth. I haven’t been able to return there since. I hate to think what could have happened to it without its protector.”
The display racks rattled and Rory raised his fists on instinct. The rags crawled along his body, ready to strike. It was Ruin rushing out of the merchandise section, covered in cowboy gear. A pair of embossed brown leather boots replaced their usual black strap-ups. They wore a ten-gallon hat and held a cheap revolver toy in each hand. “This town ain’t big enough for the six of us!” They said in their best kitsch Western accent.
A hard glance from Jim sent Ruin withdrawing back into the gift shop, holstering their ‘weapons’. Traci spoke quietly. “Why don’t I get us all rooms for tonight. We can rest and be refreshed in the morning.” She looked up at the bartender. He was still trembling from the standoff moments ago. “Six rooms, please.”
“It’s Rory!”
Traci opened the door. He was uncostumed. His sympathetic face was incongruous with the harsh features of the suit of rags. “Hey, Traci. Can I come in?”
“What’s up?” She stood aside and Rory sat on the bed. “It seemed like what White Stag said affected you.”
“That’s what you’re here for? You don’t have to worry about someone hurting my feelings.” She laughed.
Rory relaxed his posture. “Well, I’m glad, but it’s okay if you’re hurting. That… stuff with Dream. You did what you had to. I miss John too.”
Traci’s grin drooped and she let herself fall back onto the bed. She paused, then: “Dream made me an offer. Become his warlock, like Darhk was.”
“His-- his warlock? Like work for him? What are you going to say?”
“I turned him down. There’s always, always some all-powerful asshole fucking with me and my friends. HIVE, Neron, Darhk, Dream. Dream’s just as responsible for what John… became. And if becoming Dream’s warlock means I end up like Damien Darhk, then I just-- ugh!” She grunted, trailing off.
“But, knowing you, you’re wondering if you could beat the Heavenly Host if you said yes.”
“Not just them.” Traci sat up. “Bring Jim to Myrrha. Fix the Reawakening. Actually set up some magical safety nets that I haven’t jury-rigged from lamb’s spit and a spell I found on Quora. Y’know, all of it.”
Rory turned to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Traci, you’re the best spellcaster I’ve ever met. You literally saved the universe and you’re still doing more. We’re going to win, and we’re going to do it with or without Dream, OK?”
Ruin remained in their store-bought cowboy ensemble. The group were all still a minute’s walk from White Stag when Ruin called out, “Why are you doing this?” They hurried forward, breaking into a jog past the group, despite Jim’s protests.
Traci readied a spell, just in case. “You said you’re the good guy. Jim’s not perfect, but he’s good too. You don’t have to fight.” Ruin looked different that morning in a way that was hard to place. Their silhouette was fuzzy. At a glance, they looked vague and undefined, as though it took a few seconds for them to render in view. It didn’t seem to slow them down any, though at times they seemed to wince to themself
White Stag shook his head. “There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to fight.” His voice took on a bit of twang at odds with his usual refined accent.
“But why Nightmaster?”
“Every day Jim wakes up in this world, he hates it a little more. He hates the toil, the uncertainty. Mostly, he hates that here, he’s not the best. He’s a middling swordsman and a below average hero on Earth.”
Jim said nothing, staring daggers.
“And that’s why I want my duel. You don’t belong in these parts, Jim.”
“You’re a madman.” Jim said. “Playing with the lives of innocents in these stupid games.” He approached, grinding his feet into the gravel to keep from lashing out in rage.
“Playing?” White Stag’s faux accent dropped. “‘Well, I suppose I am having a great deal of fun.” A sliver of sunrise poked over the horizon. In a flash that just caught the few drops of light to trickle onto the tracks, White Stag pulled his rapier. It sliced across Nightmaster’s armor like tissue paper, leaving a long red cut across his chest. Jim grunted and drew his sword.
Sherry took a step forward, but Jim held his hand out to stop her “No!” Jim said. “If you intervene, he won’t give us what we need.”
“Old dogs can learn new tricks, it seems.” White Stag lunged, but this time his blade was batted away by the Sword of Night.
Jim went for a riposte. White Stag sideswiped and the heavy broadsword cut through the air, thunking against the railway tracks. White Stag retaliated, raking another slash across Jim’s side. Jim fell to a knee.
“Yield.” White Stag said. He didn’t get an answer. “I think your man is finished.” He turned to the rest of the Shadowpact, giving Jim the opening to grab a handful of gravel and throw it in White Stag’s face. Stag recoiled and Jim forced himself up using his sword, using the momentum to swing it into White Stag’s flank. It only made the lightest of contact, but the pale red of blood spreading through White Stag’s vest was enough to bring Jim satisfaction.
Jim followed up with another attack, which White Stag evaded. This time, Jim sensed anger behind those opaque spectacles. White Stag parried Jim’s next attack. The second his opponent was off balance, White Stag whipped his rapier at Jim’s wrist. He winced in pain. Another well-placed kick from Stag and the sword went clattering to the side. Jim reached after it, in vain.
“Yield.” White Stag said, this time his voice firmer. Sherry had seen enough battles to see the tremor in Jim’s shoulders, to know what he was going to try next. She added to White Stag, “Yield, Jim. We’ll find another way.”
“I… yield.” Jim said with a bassy, hateful tone.
In an instant, White Stag withdrew his rapier and stepped back. “I wish I could say ‘well fought’, Jim.” White Stag brushed the gravel dust away and ignored his wound. “But I did say I’d tell you where to find Destruction.”
“But I lost.” Jim said, confused.
“Yes, you did. And you continue to lose every day you spend away from Myrrha, right?”
Jim stared at the ground, in a haze.
“You’ll find Destruction at Coast City.”
“Coast City? What would he be doing there?” Rory asked.
White Stag shrugged. “Paying his respects? In any case, I think this concludes our time together for now. I look forward to our next meeting, Jim.” He walked away from the Shadowpact, towards the vast empty desert.
“I don’t think so.” Sherry said. “Not until you answer whatever questions Jim has about Myrrha.”
“I don’t think that would benefit anyone, do you? A nice try at reconciliation, angel. Truly, living up to your occupation.” Sherry charged forward, prepared to take the brunt of any attack White Stag was capable of and tackle him to the ground. However, wInstead, when he swiped his sword it did not clash with Sherry; instead, a portal opened in the air.a quick swipe tore open a portal in the air, White Stag stepped through, and it vanished in an instant. Sherry ran straight past her target.
“His sword can open portals too?” Rory said.
Ruin ignored him and went to Jim’s side, helping him onto his feet. ”C’mon, partner.” Jim winced, taking their hand and slowly rising.
“We need to keep moving. I can bind that move, but there’s no telling how long Destruction will stay in one place. Next stop: Coast City.” Traci said.
2023.06.08 07:44 Bobathaar first impressions
So I just picked one up today. I went all black tactical commander size with chainlink all around on grip and "dual" slide cut. No magwell and flat trigger. Stated 6 week lead time was in reality closer to the 9 week mark, but happy to see that it doesn't look like they rushed it out the door. Here are my initial takeaways having fondled it but not yet having had a chance to make a range day yet.
submitted by Bobathaar to stealtharms [link] [comments]
- The gun is fairly tightly fit. Required a bushing wrench to disassemble/assemble. Not "Les Baer... you better set aside 500 rounds of hot ammo to break this in before it even works" tight.... but I'd say it's more well fit and blended than Staccatos, which are, after all, production guns... whereas this is sort of a super underpriced semicustom. Upon disassembly I see that the finish has already worn to silver on the sides and top of the rails... probably from test fire. That's a tight gun.
- Not a fan of the safety they use. It's not super positive, and it's a bit tough to snap on (snapping it off is fine)... seems to drag on something every time I want to engage it to the on position. My bigger gripe, though, is that it curves a bit downward and the underside is SHARP. Not dehorned at all sharp. I have a habit of snapping the safety to the on position if I'm gonna run with the gun in hand and only snapping it off as I come on target... but that's probably not going to fly with this gun, would end up with a cut on my thumb. The safeties are sharp, hard to actuate, and small. Biggest gripe about the gun. I mean, maybe I'm spoiled by my high ride extra wide atlas safeties, but even the edcx9, which has smaller safeties, has rounded off and dehorned edges that are very comfortable to actuate. Snapping the safety on and off 10 times with this gun makes me just want to put it down.
- Trigger is good... but not custom gun good. It's a much better trigger job than comes from say, factory 1911's or staccato. Good enough that I've no interest in doing any work on it. But it's not to the standard of my infinity or my atlases or even my wilson edcx9. That being said, the cheapest of those guns run double what the platypus does, so it defintely is punching above its price range. It's good enough that if I ordered a 3-6k custom gun and it came with this trigger job I wouldn't consider sending it back. The "flat" selection trigger is very comfortable to pull without disturbing the sights and is set to such that someone who usually orders atlas guns with a "curved medium" or "short flat" trigger feels it is the right length for my hand. Does not seem to be set screw adjustable, but I don't feel the need to adjust takeup or overtravel at all. It's set to pretty much exactly how much take up I like and maybe just a smidge more overtravel... but I run my guns with VERY little overtravel.
- I ordered the acro cut. Acro sits so that the very bottom of the glass is flush with the level of the pistol... sits very low, which is great. The backup irons also sit fairly low and are very unobtrusive due to their low pro and super slim profile. Good design. Better than the plate systems that most other makers force on you (Atlas, Nighthawk, Wilson, etc etc).
- Fits in my T1C axis for a 2011 w/x300u. Needed to modify mag carrier side to accommodate glock mags. Also fits a safariland for 2011 5" tactical w/ x300u. Does not fit ANY of my 2011 hoslters made for just the gun. Also does not fit any of my wilson edcx9 holsters due to my choice of square trigger guard, although I suspect that had I ordered a round trigger guard they would fit perfectly. So I guess I'm running it with a light.
- Action feels... like a tight production 1911. Doesn't have that otherworldy smoothness you get when you rack an infinity or an atlas. Feels most akin to the edcx9... maybe because they're both aluminum frames. Maybe that's just the steel on aluminum feel. Felt kinda like a staccato c2, which is also aluminum framed, as opposed to the all steel staccato p, which feels smoother.
- It's very light. Lighter than my edcx9, which is actually a smaller gun. If feels light enough that my FFL guy thought it was a polymer frame until I told him it wasn't.
- 2 pc guide rod sucks. I might just change it out for a standard 1911 commander stubby rod and plug. Wish they wouldve just done either that or went bull barrel with a tool-less guide rod. I mean, I guess it's not the end of the world since the gun is tight enough you're not going to be taking it apart without a bushing wrench anyway, so if you're already using tools one more isn't the end of the world.
- As for finish... I know they offer the whole 50 shades of whatever the fuck you want on their site. I'm not a big paint your gun guy. I just went black. HOWEVER, I am of the opinion that paint is NOT an acceptable firearms finish. I would really love to see the frame anodized and the slide done in dlc/pvd/np3/hard chrome/whatever... something that isn't paint. Go ahead and upcharge me for it. I'll click the button. I promise.
2023.06.08 03:37 MW_007 [WTS] Parts Bin Clean Out - EOTECH G33, KP-9 Spare Parts, MRO Mount, Wilson Combat 365 Grip Module, True Precision 43 TH Barrel, Streamlight HL-X, and more - $10-$400
Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/d2B9umD
Mortgage is due. Need everything gone.
Prices are shipped CONUS.
Must DIBS + PM to claim.
PayPal F&F ONLY. NO NOTES.
• Black EOTECH G33 Magnifier. Mounted with less than 500 rds. No notable salt. Bought as part of an HHS kit, no case included. - $380.00 SOLD
• CZ 75 Meprolight Fixed Tru-Dot Night Sights. Healthy tritium dots. Take offs from my SP-01. - $40.00 SOLD
• Echo93 V1 Ambi Sling Adapter. Catch and release from GAFS. - $20.00
• K-USA AK100 Pistol Grip - $10.00
• K-USA Spare Parts Bundle. Includes OEM Small Muzzle Brake, Lower Hand Guard, Upper Hand Guard (Cover Only), Trigger, Polished Hammer, Safety Lever. - $40.00
• HB Industries 9MM 1/2×28 Micro Comp. Catch and Release from GAFS (unfired). - $20.00 SOLD
• Trilicon MRO® Quick Release Full Co-Witness Mount. Includes four mounting screws. Mounted but unfired. - $40.00
- Wilson Combat P365/X Grip Module W Armory Craft Extended Magazine Release, and Tungst-Weight Rods. Ran this on my CCW for two months, good condition. - $50.00 SOLD
• TacStar Slimline Sidesaddle 6-Shell Holder for Mossberg 88/500/590. Hardware included. Mounted and fired. - $17.50 SOLD
• Sig Sauer Blackpoint Tactical P365/X IWB Holster. Minimal use. - $40.00
• True Precision Black Threaded 1/2×28 Barrel for Glock 43/43X. Unfired, new, open box. - $120.00 SOLD
• Mossberg 500/590 OEM M-LOK Forend w/ Phase5 Hand Stop. Take off from my 590. - $17.50 SOLD
• Streamlight Protac HL-X w/ clicky cap, mount, and pressure pad. Battery not included. - $90.00 SOLD
submitted by MW_007 to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]
Mortgage is due. Need everything gone.
Prices are shipped CONUS.
Must DIBS + PM to claim.
PayPal F&F ONLY. NO NOTES.
• Echo93 V1 Ambi Sling Adapter. Catch and release from GAFS. - $20.00
• K-USA AK100 Pistol Grip - $10.00
• K-USA Spare Parts Bundle. Includes OEM Small Muzzle Brake, Lower Hand Guard, Upper Hand Guard (Cover Only), Trigger, Polished Hammer, Safety Lever. - $40.00
• Trilicon MRO® Quick Release Full Co-Witness Mount. Includes four mounting screws. Mounted but unfired. - $40.00
• Sig Sauer Blackpoint Tactical P365/X IWB Holster. Minimal use. - $40.00
2023.06.08 02:14 Phallus_Maximus69E My review of Chinese Warlord Armies 1911–30
5/5 stars
Chinese Warlord Armies 1911–30 is the third and best book of Philip Jowett's Chinese trilogy. It balances well the world building, narrative and visual references, with much better plates. It wraps it up very well given its short size.
"More officers than soldiers, more soldiers than guns, and more bandits than people", with this Chinese saying the book starts at the onset of the decadent Ch'ing (Manchu) Imperial Dinasty being ousted from power in 1911, after decades of incompetence and humilliating defeats at the hands of the West and the Japanese. After abortive attempts of republicanism and monarchy, including a Quixotesque attempt at imperial restoration by the Pigtail Army that lasted eleven days and mostly killed civilians in the crossfire, China was fractured into warring parallel states. The boy-emperor Pu Yi was kept as an avatar for the people while the actual power was wielded by warlords of varying strenght and shifting loyalties. Those feudal lords were theoretically loyal to the headless Republic and followed the Republican rank system and flags, usually the Wuchang flag of the 1911 coup d'état with minor differences since they were made by local workshops.
The breakdown of central governament control in 1912 led to a period of chaos and competing fiefdoms ruled by local military governors, or "tuchans", the Warlods. These generals controlled and expanded their territories like medieval feudal lords, leading to 700 separate conflitcs from 1912 to 1933 - 500 in the "remote and troublesome province of Szechwan alone". Those conflicts ranged from low to high intensity, with large numbers of troops, but most of them remaining idly by, both because they were so low quality to the point of not making any difference or because they were unreliable. With the example of the Chili Army, the strongest for most of the period, having 480,000 men, with 380,000 being considered loyal and only 130,000 being counted as reliable combat troops doesn't inspire much confidence in the fighting quality of those warlord armies.
Those men, mostly uniformed rabble, were prone to pillage and misbehavior, abusing the poor peasants on their area of operations. Looting, raping, forcing requisitions or demanding goods in exchange for the "worthless notes issued by their commanders", it is no surprise the civilian population qualified the warlod soldiers in no uncertain terms as "bad iron". Nothing good could be made from the "material" those soldiers were made; they were the lowest form of life. Many of those soldiers were ex-bandits recruited en masse, as warlords were always in need of expanding their ineffective armies. Soldiers from defeated armies were also incorporated with no illusions about their loyalty or actual efficency: their former commander would be paid by the rifles he brought, the men being a low quality commodity, dilluting even further the quality of even adequate troops.
The narrative presents the main "Cliques": the Anhwei, Chili, Fengtien and Kuominchun during the High Warlordism period, and the National Revolutionary Army (NRA) and Ankuochun (anti-NRA) at the final showdown. The chronology shows the creation of the Anhwei Army in 1916 with the pompous name of "War Participation Army", as they were trained and equipped by the Japanese to fight in the Great War. They were respected and considered to be elite by everybody but were immediatly defeated by the Chili Army in two days in 1920, with most of their coveted weaponry being captured by the Fengtien Clique when the defeated Anhwei fled north into their territory. With such a fiasco it's disheartening to picture the Anhwei trying their luck against the Germans.
The Chili and Fengtien would be the main players during the Warlord Period and engage each other in two destructive main wars that made for an interesting read. The well-equiped Fengtien would be defeated first by the genius of Wu Pei-fu, nicknamed the "Jade Marshal" or "Scholar Warlord" by his knowledge of tactics; he was mostly supplied by the Italians and stressed the importance of military drill having in the élite 3rd Division the core of his Chili Army. He was not a strategist though, and would be defeated in the second round due to the betrayal of the Christian Warlord, who disregarded orders and re-routed his forces to Peking, proclaiming his own governament and creating the Kuominchun, "People's Army".
These armies were always poorly armed and lacking in ammunition, with photographs showing ammo bandoliers mostly empty. The warlords would scrounge everything they could get their hands on, from taking captured weapons, to buying from different foreign peddlers and from their own workshops. This created a plethora of exotic weapons as well as a logistical nightmare. Machine guns were a luxury and artillery almost unheard of, being mainly mortars, with howitzers being reserved for only the most powerful tuchans. The warlords tinkered with aviation and chemical warfare, but with neglectable results. "Dare to die" commando units were armed with automatic Mauser pistols and large Da Dao swords for infiltration or frontal charges. Some Renault FT and Schneider tanks were bought by the Fengtien and Renault-Kegresse armoured half-tracks by the Chili, but those weapons were rarely used due to the warlords being paranoic of having those precious machines being captured by the enemy - better to just expend the cheap cannon-fodder. Armored trains were a main source of military power and changed hands many times.
Only the Tin Hat Brigade, of the élite 3rd Division of the Chili Army had helmets as standard equipment; the M15 Adrian, got either from the Russians or Serbians.
The warlords themselves were colorful characters, with exotic names such as "Jade Marshal", "Tiger of the North" and "Dog-Meat General". While the author uses Wade-Gilles, this is dilluted by his insistence on using the warlods' Chinese names instead of their more recognizable nicknames, leading to a confusing narrative. The author also shows an unwarrented obssession with the Christian Warlord due to his faith, even having a plate of him. Other warlods are mentioned, either by their brutality or their cleverness, but the most interesting characters were without a doubt Chang Tso-lin, "The Tiger of the North", and Chang T'sung-chang, "The Dog-Meat General", both from the Fengtien Clique (also the more interesting of the bunch).
Having served as a guerrilla fighter for the Japanese in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-5, the Tiger of the North was supplied and advised by the Japanese, who assassinated him in 1928 due to the Tiger outliving his usefulness after being defeated by the NRA; his territory of Manchuria would be transformed in the Manchukuo puppet state in 1931. The Dog-Meat General was brutal even by warlord standards and full of shenanigans, having the "three don't knows": he didn't know how much money he had in his coffers, how many concubines in his harem and how many soldiers in his army. He was the most avid recruiter of White Russian mercenaries, having them as his personal body guard, technical jobs, elite shock units and even commandos operating behind the lines (as mentioned in the first book). With the mechanical expediency of a psychopath, he hired a force of Russian female nurses -atypical in the warlord period - to improve his army's survivability and morale. Those Russian nurses would also train Chinese nurses to expand the service.
This book has great pictures. The photographs are good and we can easily see details of weapons and uniforms. The plates are a giant leap from the last book, having better proportions and being more appealing. They remain somewhat monochromatic with the main uniform being bluish-grey, but they do a great job in showing the good to poor panoply of Chinese warlord soldiers. From well-kitted soldiers to poor sods using straw sandals and armed with obsolete rifles or even lances (by the sheer lack of firearms). Soldiers would have armbands to show their alligience or simply a piece of cloth pinned to their uniform. Some commanders would have reserve identifications of their enemy, already antecipating defeat and integration.
The rank system is again shoved in, half a page, black-and-white, with a text instead of being illustrated in the colour plates. The same with the service colors. The warlord peacock-like parade uniform of the period is not shown, instead having a boring plate of the Christian Warlord notable exactly for being inconspicuous.
There is a plate of a Russian cavalryman from the Dog-Meat General's body guard but we didn't get a female nurse. What we do get is the plate of a Japanese advisor of the Fengtien; an important part of the warlord warfare, with the Japanese and Soviet advisors being a notable presence. Another great addition is the two plates showing child soldiers, something also not uncommon in said war scenario.
Chiang Kai-shek's NRA would come out from being a poorly and irrelevant force to a well-equipped and hegemonic force by means of Soviet advising (of all people) and lead the Northern Expedition that finally defeated the warlords in their united front. The NRA brought in a rethink, and won by being institutionally stronger, with a more solid sense of unity. Their focus on providing flags and banners for even small units is more important than it seems, as it gave the soldiers and commanders even a cursory notion of unity - the only thing China didn't have. This didn't end China's troubles, however, as the Japanese would start their destructive war in China shortly after, and then came the civil war and the Korean War. How many of those victorious NRA soldiers showed cheering in page 9 of the chronology would be alive 20 years later is testament to the tragic Chinese history in the 20th century.
As an introduction, this book really makes a good job in easing the reader into the period (except for the warlords' names) and paves the way for more reasearch. The author expanded the subject in larger books such as "The Armies of Warlord China 1911-1928", with 200 pages, and "China's Wars: Rousing the Dragon 1894-1949" with 400 pages.
submitted by Phallus_Maximus69E to books [link] [comments]
Chinese Warlord Armies 1911–30 is the third and best book of Philip Jowett's Chinese trilogy. It balances well the world building, narrative and visual references, with much better plates. It wraps it up very well given its short size.
"More officers than soldiers, more soldiers than guns, and more bandits than people", with this Chinese saying the book starts at the onset of the decadent Ch'ing (Manchu) Imperial Dinasty being ousted from power in 1911, after decades of incompetence and humilliating defeats at the hands of the West and the Japanese. After abortive attempts of republicanism and monarchy, including a Quixotesque attempt at imperial restoration by the Pigtail Army that lasted eleven days and mostly killed civilians in the crossfire, China was fractured into warring parallel states. The boy-emperor Pu Yi was kept as an avatar for the people while the actual power was wielded by warlords of varying strenght and shifting loyalties. Those feudal lords were theoretically loyal to the headless Republic and followed the Republican rank system and flags, usually the Wuchang flag of the 1911 coup d'état with minor differences since they were made by local workshops.
The breakdown of central governament control in 1912 led to a period of chaos and competing fiefdoms ruled by local military governors, or "tuchans", the Warlods. These generals controlled and expanded their territories like medieval feudal lords, leading to 700 separate conflitcs from 1912 to 1933 - 500 in the "remote and troublesome province of Szechwan alone". Those conflicts ranged from low to high intensity, with large numbers of troops, but most of them remaining idly by, both because they were so low quality to the point of not making any difference or because they were unreliable. With the example of the Chili Army, the strongest for most of the period, having 480,000 men, with 380,000 being considered loyal and only 130,000 being counted as reliable combat troops doesn't inspire much confidence in the fighting quality of those warlord armies.
Those men, mostly uniformed rabble, were prone to pillage and misbehavior, abusing the poor peasants on their area of operations. Looting, raping, forcing requisitions or demanding goods in exchange for the "worthless notes issued by their commanders", it is no surprise the civilian population qualified the warlod soldiers in no uncertain terms as "bad iron". Nothing good could be made from the "material" those soldiers were made; they were the lowest form of life. Many of those soldiers were ex-bandits recruited en masse, as warlords were always in need of expanding their ineffective armies. Soldiers from defeated armies were also incorporated with no illusions about their loyalty or actual efficency: their former commander would be paid by the rifles he brought, the men being a low quality commodity, dilluting even further the quality of even adequate troops.
The narrative presents the main "Cliques": the Anhwei, Chili, Fengtien and Kuominchun during the High Warlordism period, and the National Revolutionary Army (NRA) and Ankuochun (anti-NRA) at the final showdown. The chronology shows the creation of the Anhwei Army in 1916 with the pompous name of "War Participation Army", as they were trained and equipped by the Japanese to fight in the Great War. They were respected and considered to be elite by everybody but were immediatly defeated by the Chili Army in two days in 1920, with most of their coveted weaponry being captured by the Fengtien Clique when the defeated Anhwei fled north into their territory. With such a fiasco it's disheartening to picture the Anhwei trying their luck against the Germans.
The Chili and Fengtien would be the main players during the Warlord Period and engage each other in two destructive main wars that made for an interesting read. The well-equiped Fengtien would be defeated first by the genius of Wu Pei-fu, nicknamed the "Jade Marshal" or "Scholar Warlord" by his knowledge of tactics; he was mostly supplied by the Italians and stressed the importance of military drill having in the élite 3rd Division the core of his Chili Army. He was not a strategist though, and would be defeated in the second round due to the betrayal of the Christian Warlord, who disregarded orders and re-routed his forces to Peking, proclaiming his own governament and creating the Kuominchun, "People's Army".
These armies were always poorly armed and lacking in ammunition, with photographs showing ammo bandoliers mostly empty. The warlords would scrounge everything they could get their hands on, from taking captured weapons, to buying from different foreign peddlers and from their own workshops. This created a plethora of exotic weapons as well as a logistical nightmare. Machine guns were a luxury and artillery almost unheard of, being mainly mortars, with howitzers being reserved for only the most powerful tuchans. The warlords tinkered with aviation and chemical warfare, but with neglectable results. "Dare to die" commando units were armed with automatic Mauser pistols and large Da Dao swords for infiltration or frontal charges. Some Renault FT and Schneider tanks were bought by the Fengtien and Renault-Kegresse armoured half-tracks by the Chili, but those weapons were rarely used due to the warlords being paranoic of having those precious machines being captured by the enemy - better to just expend the cheap cannon-fodder. Armored trains were a main source of military power and changed hands many times.
Only the Tin Hat Brigade, of the élite 3rd Division of the Chili Army had helmets as standard equipment; the M15 Adrian, got either from the Russians or Serbians.
The warlords themselves were colorful characters, with exotic names such as "Jade Marshal", "Tiger of the North" and "Dog-Meat General". While the author uses Wade-Gilles, this is dilluted by his insistence on using the warlods' Chinese names instead of their more recognizable nicknames, leading to a confusing narrative. The author also shows an unwarrented obssession with the Christian Warlord due to his faith, even having a plate of him. Other warlods are mentioned, either by their brutality or their cleverness, but the most interesting characters were without a doubt Chang Tso-lin, "The Tiger of the North", and Chang T'sung-chang, "The Dog-Meat General", both from the Fengtien Clique (also the more interesting of the bunch).
Having served as a guerrilla fighter for the Japanese in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-5, the Tiger of the North was supplied and advised by the Japanese, who assassinated him in 1928 due to the Tiger outliving his usefulness after being defeated by the NRA; his territory of Manchuria would be transformed in the Manchukuo puppet state in 1931. The Dog-Meat General was brutal even by warlord standards and full of shenanigans, having the "three don't knows": he didn't know how much money he had in his coffers, how many concubines in his harem and how many soldiers in his army. He was the most avid recruiter of White Russian mercenaries, having them as his personal body guard, technical jobs, elite shock units and even commandos operating behind the lines (as mentioned in the first book). With the mechanical expediency of a psychopath, he hired a force of Russian female nurses -atypical in the warlord period - to improve his army's survivability and morale. Those Russian nurses would also train Chinese nurses to expand the service.
This book has great pictures. The photographs are good and we can easily see details of weapons and uniforms. The plates are a giant leap from the last book, having better proportions and being more appealing. They remain somewhat monochromatic with the main uniform being bluish-grey, but they do a great job in showing the good to poor panoply of Chinese warlord soldiers. From well-kitted soldiers to poor sods using straw sandals and armed with obsolete rifles or even lances (by the sheer lack of firearms). Soldiers would have armbands to show their alligience or simply a piece of cloth pinned to their uniform. Some commanders would have reserve identifications of their enemy, already antecipating defeat and integration.
The rank system is again shoved in, half a page, black-and-white, with a text instead of being illustrated in the colour plates. The same with the service colors. The warlord peacock-like parade uniform of the period is not shown, instead having a boring plate of the Christian Warlord notable exactly for being inconspicuous.
There is a plate of a Russian cavalryman from the Dog-Meat General's body guard but we didn't get a female nurse. What we do get is the plate of a Japanese advisor of the Fengtien; an important part of the warlord warfare, with the Japanese and Soviet advisors being a notable presence. Another great addition is the two plates showing child soldiers, something also not uncommon in said war scenario.
Chiang Kai-shek's NRA would come out from being a poorly and irrelevant force to a well-equipped and hegemonic force by means of Soviet advising (of all people) and lead the Northern Expedition that finally defeated the warlords in their united front. The NRA brought in a rethink, and won by being institutionally stronger, with a more solid sense of unity. Their focus on providing flags and banners for even small units is more important than it seems, as it gave the soldiers and commanders even a cursory notion of unity - the only thing China didn't have. This didn't end China's troubles, however, as the Japanese would start their destructive war in China shortly after, and then came the civil war and the Korean War. How many of those victorious NRA soldiers showed cheering in page 9 of the chronology would be alive 20 years later is testament to the tragic Chinese history in the 20th century.
As an introduction, this book really makes a good job in easing the reader into the period (except for the warlords' names) and paves the way for more reasearch. The author expanded the subject in larger books such as "The Armies of Warlord China 1911-1928", with 200 pages, and "China's Wars: Rousing the Dragon 1894-1949" with 400 pages.
2023.06.07 22:26 FormalSmoke Get A First Look At The Upcoming CLOT x Nike Dunk Low Pack
Check out Amazon Gold Box Daily Deals
Check out the Top Deals on Sneakers for Sale on Amazon!
Get A First Look At The Upcoming CLOT x Nike Dunk Low Pack
Edison Chen’s Hong Kong-based streetwear label, CLOT will once again be teaming up with Nike to release not one but two collaborative iterations of the Nike Dunk Low.
The CLOT x Nike Dunk Low Pack will consists of a “Multicolor” and the “Cork” option. The Cork iteration is done in a Natural/Flax-Coconut Milk-Baroque Brown color scheme. It features a full cork-based upper decorated with special heel flaps that read “2003” and “2023” in celebration of the labels 20th Anniversary. The sneaker will also come with detachable Swooshes that come in a mix of snakeskin and leather materials. Other notable details include the Sail midsole atop a Baroque Brown rubber outsole. The Multicolor option has yet to be unveiled. Each pair will come with co-branded insoles housed in special packaging.
The CLOT x Nike Dunk Low Pack has no official release information, but expect more info to be revealed in the coming weeks. Keep it locked.
In release news, will you be going after the Air Jordan 1 High OG Washed Black on June 10th?
submitted by FormalSmoke to ShoeSneakerFashion [link] [comments]
Check out the Top Deals on Sneakers for Sale on Amazon!
Get A First Look At The Upcoming CLOT x Nike Dunk Low Pack
Edison Chen’s Hong Kong-based streetwear label, CLOT will once again be teaming up with Nike to release not one but two collaborative iterations of the Nike Dunk Low.
The CLOT x Nike Dunk Low Pack will consists of a “Multicolor” and the “Cork” option. The Cork iteration is done in a Natural/Flax-Coconut Milk-Baroque Brown color scheme. It features a full cork-based upper decorated with special heel flaps that read “2003” and “2023” in celebration of the labels 20th Anniversary. The sneaker will also come with detachable Swooshes that come in a mix of snakeskin and leather materials. Other notable details include the Sail midsole atop a Baroque Brown rubber outsole. The Multicolor option has yet to be unveiled. Each pair will come with co-branded insoles housed in special packaging.
The CLOT x Nike Dunk Low Pack has no official release information, but expect more info to be revealed in the coming weeks. Keep it locked.
In release news, will you be going after the Air Jordan 1 High OG Washed Black on June 10th?
2023.06.07 22:02 reylomeansbalance Anne Boleyn: The Most Slandered Woman in History
http://under-these-restless-skies.blogspot.com/2013/12/anne-boleyn-most-slandered-woman-in.html
She's been called a witch, a poisoner, an ambitious tease who used her sexual wiles to dupe a hapless king into giving her a throne. She was called a whore, a heretic, and a traitor. But did Anne Boleyn deserve any of those labels?
What do we know of her, for certain? The answer is "surprisingly little." For one of the most famous women in English history, Anne Boleyn left little documentary traces. We only have a couple of letters that we can confirm for certain were written in her own hand. Most of the reports we have of her conduct as queen comes from extremely biased sources, and scraps of court gossip which may have no factual basis. We have only one single image of her created in her lifetime, a badly damaged portrait medal. Anne Boleyn remains an enigma.
Sometime around 1525 or so, Anne came to Henry's attention. The relationship wasn't recorded at first, so we can't be sure when it began. The court was used to Henry's flirtations, though he's recorded to have only had two mistresses. Mary Boleyn was one of them, and we're not sure when that relationship began or ended.
Anne was not a great beauty, but she had charm, grace, and wit that far more than made up for her physical shortcomings. She likely had auburn hair, and brown eyes, which she knew how to use too her advantage. Lancelot de Carle, a French poet who became the Bishop of Riez (he attended Anne's execution) said her eyes were:
Anne's initial refusal could not have been to try to force the king to marry her. She wouldn't have expected Henry to put Katharine aside in favor of her; such a thing was preposterous, and highly unlikely given Spain's power with the Pope. Knowing how her story turned out, we can "armchair quarterback" the events of 1525-1536, but Anne could not have realistically been aiming for a throne when she first turned down the king.
The more likely explanation lies in Anne's religious faith, something that is ignored in most fiction written about her. Anne was a fervent evangelical, passionate about reforming the Catholic church. She was intense in her faith and owned dozens of books on religious subjects. She was a virtuous woman because it was a tenant of her faith, not because she hoped to barter her virginity for power. She was also cognizant of her reputation. Her sister, Mary, had been humiliated by Francis's un-gallant comments about her. Anne did not want to end up the same way as her sister, pawned off on a willing courtier when the king was done with her.
But Henry did not get tired of the pursuit of Anne, as she had likely expected. His interest was also a trap. While he was obsessed with her, no other suitor would try for her hand, fearful of the king's wrath. As poet Thomas Wyatt wrote:
In 1527, Henry began seeking an annulment of his marriage to Katharine. Marrying the king became a legitimate possibility. At this point, Anne made real enemies, just by existing. Eustace Chapuys, who loved Katharine as a personal friend, hated Anne Boleyn so much, he could not bring himself to write her name in his dispatches, referring to her as "the concubine" or "the whore."
It is from Chapuys we get much of what we "know" about Anne Boleyn, and her behavior as Henry's lady-love and queen. Chapuys was eager to report any negative news about Anne, and he painted her actions in the worst possible light. Every word from her mouth and every snippet of gossip he reported was projected through the lens of his disdain for her. Whenever Henry was in a temper, it was because Anne had put him there. Whenever Katharine or Princess Mary was treated harshly, it was because Anne had insisted on it. He reported every quarrel, and watched closely for any evidence her influence was waning.
Despite knowing his bias, historians have - for the most part - taken Chapuys's word for it that these incidents really happened, or the words he reported had the meaning he attributed to them.
One thing that can be stated with almost absolute certainty: Anne Boleyn was not a murderer. It's alleged that Anne tried to have Bishop John Fisher poisoned. The Bishop and his household fell ill after a meal, and after an investigation, it was found that the food had been poisoned by a cook, Richard Roose. Roose allegedly claimed he only intended to make the dinner guests sick, but two people died. Roose was boiled to death, and never named Anne Boleyn or any of her servants as accomplices. It's a horrifying way to go, and if he could have used implicating someone else as a bargaining chip for a lighter sentence, he would have.
The second allegation stems from the death of Katharine of Aragon. During her embalming, a black growth was found on her heart, which the embalmers thought was sure evidence she had been poisoned. Modern historians believe it was a cancerous growth. There is no reason to believe poison was involved in Katharine's death. She was fifty years old and had been ailing for some time.
The last bit of "evidence" comes from Henry VIII himself. After Anne's arrest, he called for his children to be brought to him, and weeping, embraced them as he said they ought to be grateful that "venomous whore" had not managed to poison them as she intended. But at that point, Henry was willing to say or believe anything it took to rid himself of his wife. Had he truly believed his children were in danger before Anne's arrest, he would have taken action. Instead, he dismissed Mary's claims of illness as hysterical malingering, and was delighted when Katharine finally died.
When Henry set his sights on a young woman in court (we do not know her name) Anne and Jane Parker conspired to have her sent from court. Anne didn't try to poison her. Why would she have taken a risk like that? Especially in the cases of Katharine and Mary, who were watched closely, and protected by their partisans. Anne had to know the likelihood a plot like that would fall apart. Anne might have been many things, but she was not stupid. Being named as someone who tried to kill "Good Queen Katharine" would have destroyed the reputation she was working so hard to build.
So, if we leave aside the uncertain evidence of Anne's activities, what do we have from the documentary evidence of Anne's reign? We know that she was very charitable. The expenses from the queen's privy purse for charity were high. She greatly increased the amount of money put in purses for alms for the poor, sponsored young men to attend universities, paid tuition for impoverished children to attend school, and commanded her ladies in waiting to make shirts for the poor.
Anne wanted her court to be known for its virtue as well as its poetry and music. She was a flirt -she admitted that readily - but she was a pious woman and expected her court to be virtuous, as well. When her sister, Mary, turned up pregnant from a secret marriage, Anne banished her from court. Various authors have put spiteful motives behind this action, but the simple truth is that Anne could not be seen to support a young woman defying her family in such a way. She later quietly sent her sister much needed money and a gift.
She was a patron of religious scholars and helped to install reformist bishops in high positions within the new English church. When the king dissolved the monasteries, Anne and Cromwell quarreled over the money. Anne wanted it to be used to found schools. He wanted it to go into the king's and nobles' pockets. Guess who won?
We know she argued with the king, as well. This was shocking in an era in which women were supposed to placidly obey the men in their life. Anne was sharply intelligent, and very bold for a woman of her day. While she was the king's lady-love, it was Henry who became the supplicant, Henry who apologized, Henry who begged her not to leave court and go home to Hever. Once they married, it was Anne who begged for attention, who had to be the one to make up for their quarrels. The balance of power shifted fast. Henry expected her to become a submissive wife, and Anne stayed the same girl she had always been.
The king quickly tired of a politically-active, argumentative wife. He wanted a placid, obedient woman at his side, and he found just the perfect one in Jane Seymour. Anne's fall was swift and brutal. It's telling that even her greatest enemy, Chapuys, didn't believe the charges against her. But the facts were irrelevant. The king wanted Anne dead and she must die to make room for Jane.
It's almost absolutely certain Anne was not guilty of the crimes of which she was accused. The "evidence" was flimsy at best. On at least twelve occasions in the indictment, she can be proved to be at another location than the one cited, in front of a thousand witnesses. She also swore to her innocence - twice - on the host before her execution. A deeply religious woman like Anne would not have damned her immortal soul by lying in such a manner when she was about to die.
She admitted she had not always been as respectful to the king as she should have been, but nothing more.
Anne Boleyn went to the scaffold and made the expected speech before the crowd. The crowd fell to its knees when Anne knelt before the swordsman, something that is recorded at no other execution of the time period. It was a show of deep respect for her, and I hope she saw it before the blade fell. She died bravely. She died well.
But the world was not done with Anne Boleyn. Her reputation suffered further slights during her daughter's reign with the work of Nicholas Sander, a Catholic apologist nearly as biased as Chapuys. Sander (or "Slanders" as he has been called by some historians, not without reason) was only ten years old when Anne Boleyn went to the scaffold, and likely never saw her. He described her thus:
It is from Sander that we get the idea Anne had black hair, a convention that has stuck with every actress who has played her in movies or television, with the notable exception of the wonderful Geneviève Bujold, whose chestnut locks are probably the closest a movie portrayal has had to Anne's real hair color.
In closing, there is no reason to believe that Anne was vindictive, cruel, malicious, or evil. The documentary evidence points to a woman of strong religious faith, who had a temper, and strong opinions with the guts to voice them. Undoubtedly, her temper led her to say some things she likely regretted, but there's no reason to think she was a bad person. Indeed, what little we have suggests differently.
She still fascinates us, this mysterious woman who changed the world.
submitted by reylomeansbalance to anneboleyn_in_context [link] [comments]
She's been called a witch, a poisoner, an ambitious tease who used her sexual wiles to dupe a hapless king into giving her a throne. She was called a whore, a heretic, and a traitor. But did Anne Boleyn deserve any of those labels?
What do we know of her, for certain? The answer is "surprisingly little." For one of the most famous women in English history, Anne Boleyn left little documentary traces. We only have a couple of letters that we can confirm for certain were written in her own hand. Most of the reports we have of her conduct as queen comes from extremely biased sources, and scraps of court gossip which may have no factual basis. We have only one single image of her created in her lifetime, a badly damaged portrait medal. Anne Boleyn remains an enigma.
Sometime around 1525 or so, Anne came to Henry's attention. The relationship wasn't recorded at first, so we can't be sure when it began. The court was used to Henry's flirtations, though he's recorded to have only had two mistresses. Mary Boleyn was one of them, and we're not sure when that relationship began or ended.
Anne was not a great beauty, but she had charm, grace, and wit that far more than made up for her physical shortcomings. She likely had auburn hair, and brown eyes, which she knew how to use too her advantage. Lancelot de Carle, a French poet who became the Bishop of Riez (he attended Anne's execution) said her eyes were:
always most attractive which she knew well how to use with effect. Sometimes leaving them at rest and at others, sending a message to carry the secret witness of the heart. And, truth to tell, such was their power that many surrendered to their obedience.But Anne refused to become the king's mistress. Why did she refuse? Was it because of her ambition, as some say? Or could there have been another reason?
Anne's initial refusal could not have been to try to force the king to marry her. She wouldn't have expected Henry to put Katharine aside in favor of her; such a thing was preposterous, and highly unlikely given Spain's power with the Pope. Knowing how her story turned out, we can "armchair quarterback" the events of 1525-1536, but Anne could not have realistically been aiming for a throne when she first turned down the king.
The more likely explanation lies in Anne's religious faith, something that is ignored in most fiction written about her. Anne was a fervent evangelical, passionate about reforming the Catholic church. She was intense in her faith and owned dozens of books on religious subjects. She was a virtuous woman because it was a tenant of her faith, not because she hoped to barter her virginity for power. She was also cognizant of her reputation. Her sister, Mary, had been humiliated by Francis's un-gallant comments about her. Anne did not want to end up the same way as her sister, pawned off on a willing courtier when the king was done with her.
But Henry did not get tired of the pursuit of Anne, as she had likely expected. His interest was also a trap. While he was obsessed with her, no other suitor would try for her hand, fearful of the king's wrath. As poet Thomas Wyatt wrote:
Noli me Tangere, for Caesar's I am.Anne's real value in the marriage market plummeted as though she were the mistress of the king in truth. She was called "the Great Whore," the "scandal of Christendom." Even if the king had abandoned his pursuit of her, Anne would never recover her reputation. It was onward and upward, or go home in disgrace, un-marriageable, a burden on her family for life.
In 1527, Henry began seeking an annulment of his marriage to Katharine. Marrying the king became a legitimate possibility. At this point, Anne made real enemies, just by existing. Eustace Chapuys, who loved Katharine as a personal friend, hated Anne Boleyn so much, he could not bring himself to write her name in his dispatches, referring to her as "the concubine" or "the whore."
It is from Chapuys we get much of what we "know" about Anne Boleyn, and her behavior as Henry's lady-love and queen. Chapuys was eager to report any negative news about Anne, and he painted her actions in the worst possible light. Every word from her mouth and every snippet of gossip he reported was projected through the lens of his disdain for her. Whenever Henry was in a temper, it was because Anne had put him there. Whenever Katharine or Princess Mary was treated harshly, it was because Anne had insisted on it. He reported every quarrel, and watched closely for any evidence her influence was waning.
Despite knowing his bias, historians have - for the most part - taken Chapuys's word for it that these incidents really happened, or the words he reported had the meaning he attributed to them.
One thing that can be stated with almost absolute certainty: Anne Boleyn was not a murderer. It's alleged that Anne tried to have Bishop John Fisher poisoned. The Bishop and his household fell ill after a meal, and after an investigation, it was found that the food had been poisoned by a cook, Richard Roose. Roose allegedly claimed he only intended to make the dinner guests sick, but two people died. Roose was boiled to death, and never named Anne Boleyn or any of her servants as accomplices. It's a horrifying way to go, and if he could have used implicating someone else as a bargaining chip for a lighter sentence, he would have.
The second allegation stems from the death of Katharine of Aragon. During her embalming, a black growth was found on her heart, which the embalmers thought was sure evidence she had been poisoned. Modern historians believe it was a cancerous growth. There is no reason to believe poison was involved in Katharine's death. She was fifty years old and had been ailing for some time.
The last bit of "evidence" comes from Henry VIII himself. After Anne's arrest, he called for his children to be brought to him, and weeping, embraced them as he said they ought to be grateful that "venomous whore" had not managed to poison them as she intended. But at that point, Henry was willing to say or believe anything it took to rid himself of his wife. Had he truly believed his children were in danger before Anne's arrest, he would have taken action. Instead, he dismissed Mary's claims of illness as hysterical malingering, and was delighted when Katharine finally died.
When Henry set his sights on a young woman in court (we do not know her name) Anne and Jane Parker conspired to have her sent from court. Anne didn't try to poison her. Why would she have taken a risk like that? Especially in the cases of Katharine and Mary, who were watched closely, and protected by their partisans. Anne had to know the likelihood a plot like that would fall apart. Anne might have been many things, but she was not stupid. Being named as someone who tried to kill "Good Queen Katharine" would have destroyed the reputation she was working so hard to build.
So, if we leave aside the uncertain evidence of Anne's activities, what do we have from the documentary evidence of Anne's reign? We know that she was very charitable. The expenses from the queen's privy purse for charity were high. She greatly increased the amount of money put in purses for alms for the poor, sponsored young men to attend universities, paid tuition for impoverished children to attend school, and commanded her ladies in waiting to make shirts for the poor.
Anne wanted her court to be known for its virtue as well as its poetry and music. She was a flirt -she admitted that readily - but she was a pious woman and expected her court to be virtuous, as well. When her sister, Mary, turned up pregnant from a secret marriage, Anne banished her from court. Various authors have put spiteful motives behind this action, but the simple truth is that Anne could not be seen to support a young woman defying her family in such a way. She later quietly sent her sister much needed money and a gift.
She was a patron of religious scholars and helped to install reformist bishops in high positions within the new English church. When the king dissolved the monasteries, Anne and Cromwell quarreled over the money. Anne wanted it to be used to found schools. He wanted it to go into the king's and nobles' pockets. Guess who won?
We know she argued with the king, as well. This was shocking in an era in which women were supposed to placidly obey the men in their life. Anne was sharply intelligent, and very bold for a woman of her day. While she was the king's lady-love, it was Henry who became the supplicant, Henry who apologized, Henry who begged her not to leave court and go home to Hever. Once they married, it was Anne who begged for attention, who had to be the one to make up for their quarrels. The balance of power shifted fast. Henry expected her to become a submissive wife, and Anne stayed the same girl she had always been.
The king quickly tired of a politically-active, argumentative wife. He wanted a placid, obedient woman at his side, and he found just the perfect one in Jane Seymour. Anne's fall was swift and brutal. It's telling that even her greatest enemy, Chapuys, didn't believe the charges against her. But the facts were irrelevant. The king wanted Anne dead and she must die to make room for Jane.
It's almost absolutely certain Anne was not guilty of the crimes of which she was accused. The "evidence" was flimsy at best. On at least twelve occasions in the indictment, she can be proved to be at another location than the one cited, in front of a thousand witnesses. She also swore to her innocence - twice - on the host before her execution. A deeply religious woman like Anne would not have damned her immortal soul by lying in such a manner when she was about to die.
She admitted she had not always been as respectful to the king as she should have been, but nothing more.
Anne Boleyn went to the scaffold and made the expected speech before the crowd. The crowd fell to its knees when Anne knelt before the swordsman, something that is recorded at no other execution of the time period. It was a show of deep respect for her, and I hope she saw it before the blade fell. She died bravely. She died well.
But the world was not done with Anne Boleyn. Her reputation suffered further slights during her daughter's reign with the work of Nicholas Sander, a Catholic apologist nearly as biased as Chapuys. Sander (or "Slanders" as he has been called by some historians, not without reason) was only ten years old when Anne Boleyn went to the scaffold, and likely never saw her. He described her thus:
Anne Boleyn was rather tall of stature, with black hair, and an oval face of a sallow complexion as if troubled with jaundice. She had a projecting tooth under the upper lip, and on her right hand six fingers. There was a large wen under her chin, and therefore to hide its ugliness she wore a high dress covering her throat.He included such fanciful details of her reign, such as Anne wearing a dress covered with human tongues with nails through them as a warning to her critics.
It is from Sander that we get the idea Anne had black hair, a convention that has stuck with every actress who has played her in movies or television, with the notable exception of the wonderful Geneviève Bujold, whose chestnut locks are probably the closest a movie portrayal has had to Anne's real hair color.
In closing, there is no reason to believe that Anne was vindictive, cruel, malicious, or evil. The documentary evidence points to a woman of strong religious faith, who had a temper, and strong opinions with the guts to voice them. Undoubtedly, her temper led her to say some things she likely regretted, but there's no reason to think she was a bad person. Indeed, what little we have suggests differently.
She still fascinates us, this mysterious woman who changed the world.
2023.06.07 21:08 minhtyfreshtea [US to wherever USPS can go][Sell][perfume/linen spray/makeup/earrings] NAVA, BPAL, Alkemia, Stereoplasm, Whisper Sisters & More!
The Usual: US Shipping starts at 5.25$ for a bottle or up to a handful of samples/decants, 25 cents additional per bottle. PM me to get an international estimate. I ship within a week, depending on my work schedule. I extensively reuse packing materials. I have a couple flair threads floating around if you'd like some added assurance. Happy to do bundles. Also feel free to ask if I have more unlisted - I only list so much at a time to keep it manageable. Help me thin out the hoard!
Nocturne Alchemy
Astrid ajevie slonk, 3.25$ - Lunar Dust: Vanilla, white patchouli, soft wood notes, cream, orchid, and spun sugar.
CocoaPink 2.5oz linen spray (will require additional 1$ for shipping), 5.50$ - Castle Underground: Black wood, dark earth, patchouli, forest's breath, woodsmoke, incense, sweet blood orange, little cakes, wormwood, and brown sugar.
LalaLandScents (etsy) 1.5 ml sample - Bananas Foster: A mouthwatering blend of bananas, caramel, amaretto, and ice cream.
about-face paint-it lip color in Slumber (matte rosy beige), 14$ shipped - BNNU but it is out of its foil packet that it came in. My brain is dumb and needed to physically see what the color was because sometimes I can't trust what I see on a screen.
mystery polymer clay earrings for pierced ears, 10$/pair (or 8$ with FS perfume/lipstick purchase) - I bought a mystery box from this etsy shop, which consists of some prototypes and/or single run designs from her early days. I'm only reaching for 2-3 of these in my weekly rotation, so hoping to rehome the remaining pairs. Feel free to reach out for photos! Just can't get them uploaded at the moment but wanted to include them here before I forget again.
submitted by minhtyfreshtea to IndieExchange [link] [comments]
Nocturne Alchemy
- Noir Bunny (full 5ml), swap preferred but would let go for 27$ - Hot Apple Pie accord (Cinnamon, Nutmeg, Apple), Tobacco Accord, Pistachio accord, Vanilla Pudding accord, Black Vanilla Bean, Rosewood Oil, Crystalline Absolute and Black Cedar Wood
- Carnation Santalum Gold, 2ml direct sample - still sealed, 8$: White Carnation of Cairo, Gold Santalum of India, a drop of Egyptian Temple Oudh, French Vanilla Beans whole, Vanilla-Sugar, White Sugar and Pink Cotton Candy
- Egyptian Jasmine Crystal Musk, 2ml direct sample - still sealed, 8$: Egyptian Blue Jasmine, Crystal Vanilla Musk and Eternal Ankh Vanilla (concentrated from the PC Eternal Ankh)
- Cherry Musk sniffie slink - FWP
- Balancing the Sake Cup (a little below TOL), 23$: Candied ginger, orange blossom, benzoin, and clove.
- Crib Girls (half bottle), 18$: Seven honeys under one unkempt roof, with fiery-tart cubeb and dusty cardamom
- Bullfinch & Weeping Cherry (Uso, Shidarezakura), half bottle, 14$: Weeping cherry blossoms, pink musk, woad, black plum, benzoin, tuberose, and incense smoke.
- Caressing the Wild Rabbit, decant, 5$: White tea, honeycomb, vanilla orchid, and a drop of soft sandalwood.
- Dracul, direct GC imp/slink, 2$: Black musk, tobacco, fir, balsam of peru, cumin, bitter clove, crushed mint, and orange blossom.
- Belle Epoque, direct GC imp/slink, 2$: Sweet opium, Lily of the Valley, vanilla, mandarin and red sandalwood.
- Black Tower, direct imp/slink, 2$: white sandalwood, ambergris, wet ozone, galbanum and leather with ebony, teak, burnt grasses, English ivy and a hint of red wine.
- Zombi, direct imp/slink (I have two available), 2$: Dried roses, rose leaf, Spanish moss, oakmoss and deep brown earth.
- Pomona, 10$: apple blossom, orange blossom, frankincense
- Flora, 10$: orange blossom, iris, honeysuckle, galbanum, apple blossom, black currant, vetiver, lavender, blue Egyptian musk, red Egyptian musk
- Witches Breath, 10$: an ever changing blend that will never smell the same twice.
- Devana, 10$: magnolia, angel's trumpet, tuberose, narcissus, blue Egyptian musk, Arabian musk, orange blossom, orchid, hints of damp earth and peach
- Haiku, 5ml rollerball ultime oil (at least 4ml left), 18$: A delicate meditation of jasmine pearl tea, white sandalwood, bamboo, and green tea buds illuminated by teaflower aldehydes.
- Sadzi, a little over half left of 5ml rollerball ultime oil, smudged label (arrived to me like such), 10$: Mandarin orange, Tangelo, Key lime, Calamondin, Pommello, Bergamot, Fig tea, Sparkling lemongrass musk
- Frog Dew, 0.5 ml sample, 2.50$: A dewy coat scented by notes of swamp azalea, wild basil, bergamot, luminescent marsh gas and devil fruit
- Jasmine Green Milk Tea, 1.8ml mini bottle (no rollerball), 5$: Loose green tea leaves and jasmine flowers steeped in lightly sweetened milk and whisked with a teaspoon of finely ground matcha
- Cursed be Iron: A blend of smoke, charcoal, and Frankincense with aquatic undertones. Smells like an anvil.
- None More Black Licorice: A pure, true black licorice scent. A natural blend of Anise essential oil and Vanilla infused oil.
LalaLandScents (etsy) 1.5 ml sample - Bananas Foster: A mouthwatering blend of bananas, caramel, amaretto, and ice cream.
about-face paint-it lip color in Slumber (matte rosy beige), 14$ shipped - BNNU but it is out of its foil packet that it came in. My brain is dumb and needed to physically see what the color was because sometimes I can't trust what I see on a screen.
mystery polymer clay earrings for pierced ears, 10$/pair (or 8$ with FS perfume/lipstick purchase) - I bought a mystery box from this etsy shop, which consists of some prototypes and/or single run designs from her early days. I'm only reaching for 2-3 of these in my weekly rotation, so hoping to rehome the remaining pairs. Feel free to reach out for photos! Just can't get them uploaded at the moment but wanted to include them here before I forget again.
2023.06.07 20:31 djwest97 [WTS] Semi-Gucci 5.56 13.9 Upper, MBUS Pros, PA PLx, Modlite 350, Surefire, Holosun 503cu/507 ACSS, Axeon Shotlite, ADM Eotech Mounts, Reptilia RMR/Acro Mounts, Misc Parts
Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/MICRULU (also includes item pics/serials)
PLEASE READ RULES - All prices are OBO, PM me for offers - Dibs and then send a message to me to get payment info - Add $5-$10 shipping to CONUS depending on size/weight of item(s) purchased - If you want more pictures of something just ask me - I accept PayPal or Venmo F&F - NO NOTES
Built this 5.56 upper for myself but decided to just go for it with an 11.5” and get into the SBR game. This is NOT pinned/welded but the OAL is 16.5” with these parts so it’s ready to be p/w and avoid the ATF’s BS - I prefer to sell this as one complete piece, but if I have buyers for each part I will separate. Less than 100 rounds shot through this bad boy. Parts List: - Aero Slickside FDE Upper - $100 - Radian Raptor LT CH - $60 - BCM FDE BCG - $180 - Triarc 13.9/BA Hanson Lopro GB/Mid-Length Melonite Gas Tube - $280 - YHM Brake timed with one Shim - $70 - Geissele MK8 13.5” - $280
Buy the whole thing for $930 - Buy without the BCG/CH for $700
MBUS Pros - were rattlecanned but has been mostly removed: $130 - add to the upper for $125
PA PLx 1-8 FFP ACSS-Raptor-M2-5.56 (not the compact version) - LNIB + Butler Creek + PA Throw Lever: $870 - add to the upper for $850
Holosun 503cu - LNIB: $190 - add to the upper for $180
Modlite 18350 setup (Missing mount but I could include a black arisaka in-line for like $35 extra): $400 - Add to upper for $380 - Surefire SR07 - Surefire UE Tailcap - Modlite 350 body - Modlite PLH-V2 Head (minor carbon buildup on side but perfect other than that) - 1 extra battery - Efest Pro Charger
Modlite Scout Tailcap - No salt: $25
Surefire ST07 Pressure Pad - BNIB: $50
Holosun 507c ACSS - LNIB: $260
Axeon Shotlight (this is an inexpensive way to add a light to 12 Gauge Mossberg 500/Maverick 88, Remington 870, or Winchester SXP shotguns) - Minor cosmetic salt from use, otherwise LNIB - $25
ADM Eotech Riser R1 (Shorter one - I think this one is for the XPS series - please correct me if I’m wrong): $65
ADM Eotech Riser R2 (taller one - I think this is for the EXPS series - please correct me if I’m wrong): $65
FDE Reptilia AUS 34mm RMR ROF Top cap: $70
FDE Reptilia AUS 30mm Acro ROF Top cap: $70
Elite Survival Pistol Holster: $20
Aimpoint 34mm Picatinny Mount: $20
Cheap Stuff: - AK polymer Hanguard/Heat shield: $10 - AK Pistol Grip: $5 -FDE Mil-Spec Safety: $5 - Magpul AFG without mounting hardware: $3 - Standard Teethed AR Barrel Nut: $2 - Vortex Absolute Height 30mm Ring: $2 - Some kind of button loop lanyard thing: $2 - 2 Velcro loops of some sort: $2 each
submitted by djwest97 to GunAccessoriesForSale [link] [comments]
PLEASE READ RULES - All prices are OBO, PM me for offers - Dibs and then send a message to me to get payment info - Add $5-$10 shipping to CONUS depending on size/weight of item(s) purchased - If you want more pictures of something just ask me - I accept PayPal or Venmo F&F - NO NOTES
Built this 5.56 upper for myself but decided to just go for it with an 11.5” and get into the SBR game. This is NOT pinned/welded but the OAL is 16.5” with these parts so it’s ready to be p/w and avoid the ATF’s BS - I prefer to sell this as one complete piece, but if I have buyers for each part I will separate. Less than 100 rounds shot through this bad boy. Parts List: - Aero Slickside FDE Upper - $100 - Radian Raptor LT CH - $60 - BCM FDE BCG - $180 - Triarc 13.9/BA Hanson Lopro GB/Mid-Length Melonite Gas Tube - $280 - YHM Brake timed with one Shim - $70 - Geissele MK8 13.5” - $280
Buy the whole thing for $930 - Buy without the BCG/CH for $700
MBUS Pros - were rattlecanned but has been mostly removed: $130 - add to the upper for $125
PA PLx 1-8 FFP ACSS-Raptor-M2-5.56 (not the compact version) - LNIB + Butler Creek + PA Throw Lever: $870 - add to the upper for $850
Holosun 503cu - LNIB: $190 - add to the upper for $180
Modlite 18350 setup (Missing mount but I could include a black arisaka in-line for like $35 extra): $400 - Add to upper for $380 - Surefire SR07 - Surefire UE Tailcap - Modlite 350 body - Modlite PLH-V2 Head (minor carbon buildup on side but perfect other than that) - 1 extra battery - Efest Pro Charger
Modlite Scout Tailcap - No salt: $25
Surefire ST07 Pressure Pad - BNIB: $50
Axeon Shotlight (this is an inexpensive way to add a light to 12 Gauge Mossberg 500/Maverick 88, Remington 870, or Winchester SXP shotguns) - Minor cosmetic salt from use, otherwise LNIB - $25
ADM Eotech Riser R2 (taller one - I think this is for the EXPS series - please correct me if I’m wrong): $65
FDE Reptilia AUS 34mm RMR ROF Top cap: $70
FDE Reptilia AUS 30mm Acro ROF Top cap: $70
Elite Survival Pistol Holster: $20
Cheap Stuff: - AK polymer Hanguard/Heat shield: $10 - AK Pistol Grip: $5 -
2023.06.07 15:20 Bogey4hoo 'Surving The Win' - Chapter 009B.
'Faze'.
At the, "Dere-Licht," Manor, upon the Steps of the Stairs, a Smoked Pipe was placed. In the very Centre of the Meeting Hall (the Room off to the Side from the Bottom of the Stairwell), there was another one, as well. Okay well, throughout the entire building... More like, a GREAT number!
Avem had them placed all throughout that Rebuilt Old Character House, and within that Glorified Mansion, there were Smoked Pipes, In and On Cupboards, Resting Upon Windowsills (with the Drapes Pulled or Left Open), upon Countertops, Hidden Inside of Bookshelves (if not Resting Upon them), of course on the Mantle, Hidden In and Around Corners.. at Every End, Above and Slightly Adjacent to Entrances, and even some, which were included upon the Tabletops...
All of these Smoking Pipes, some with Ashen Remainders in them, some only Constructed Models of, what we imagine, would have been kept for their Interest Sake, were watched by a Careful Set-Up, of Video Surveillance.
The Surveillance, Signaled Hanging Display Monitors, all throughout the House, and also at Avem's Lab in Tokyo. Some of these Monitors, were Hanging from the Ceiling, at the Walls, Facing Down and Into the Rooms. Others, in the Bedrooms, were Level with Sitting Chairs, where one might want to Sit Down and Look At Them.
They were Set Up, Primarily, To Catch Every Angle and Motion of Light or Shadow Upon or Within the Pipes. This Recording of Smoked Rememberances, took place Every Night and Day, from the Rising to the Setting of the Sun, all Throughout the Years. What were the Ashes for?
…
Granny Smith, he yelled. I'm telling you! She didn't believe him one bit. And you pretend you weren't looking for me!?...
She interrogated him fearsomely. Do you know who I am???
Do you know who I am, "Roared," Perry, back at her, bleakly. He was terrified. Though, he somehow managed to pull off a tone, which mirrored her own, with mock mavery.
Down the hall, there was a beep. Close the door, Swarma commanded, looking out through the interrogation Room's Exit. There was the sound of a, "fwoosh," and a, "click," outside of it. Nobody had been at the Exit, either to push or to pull it's heavy door, closed. There was also no telling, of where that other door might be. She took a swab and daubed Perry with it quickly, before leaving. Wait right here, she cackled, smiling a leerily-wisening old grin, as she left him to total.
What's doing this to you? shrieked Ren. June had actually been, in all fact, sobbing and in dread. Her body, becoming purple, as it was, "cast," with some thick layer of unknown chrysoform, which continued to cover her in variegating patches, no matter how much she scratched or peeled. It seemed to keep leaking out from her pores in beads, which coalesced over her skin, recombined, and matted. Heaving, she threw a chunk at the Vending Machine.
She was sitting in Emergency, having just made it through Triage. These are for you, said the Faithful and Believing, Catholic Lady Friend of Wells, who passed her some Pamphlets from the Lecture.
The Professor had stopped everything, to see to it that this kind Lady, would bring Juniper to ER, post-haste. June had brought Ren along as a Study Buddy, for Note-Taking, with a Bribe.
Initially, June went out to the Mountains, to collect Perry's belongings from the Rented Cabin. Upon arriving back in town, both she and Ren decided to Drive out to the College for a Lecture, and to Sight-See, while asking people around the Area if they had Seen or Heard from Perry. Could he be haunting her somewhere? Was there any hope?
Although... the Professor HAD, abruptly interrupted his Lecture to find one of his CPR-trained staff to escort Juniper to the nearby Hospital E.R., in the event that she might not make it there herself, and was, "Truly," facing a Medical Crisis.
The Vending Machine, went lame, and the lights in ER flickered for a moment. I'm getting creeped, said Ren. That's all!
June's problem stemmed back, from when she ate the Oatmeal, which Perry had left behind at the Cabin, while she was inside it, looking at a Newspaper and Doodling.
Some of Avem's Team, had been in the Trails previously, and Driven a Snowmobile through them, tracing Chemicals through the Snow. A or Spoken Split. It had been at just one of her Lab's Testing Zones.
Avem had caught onto Perry, first, when her Voice Exploded from a Crackling Ice Wyrm/ “i”’Sāqa-Šaqqa, in the Cabin's Fireplace.
Avem had been Writing her Vocals into the Chemical Strains of the Ice-Wyrm Constituency Potion, which she concocted in her Lab, and Spread Rumours about, then Codifying it with Automatic Cyber-Sentience Response-Forms, which took initiatives, based on Environmental Factors, and in turn, fed back Information. This Data, was made readable by her Reverse Tonic, which Tabulated it, by Codices, which had Variables in her own Mental Inter-Framing. Cog-Notes, if you will, to her own Cognition. All of, these, Variables, which entered her Consideration, let her Pry, both on Known, and Unknown, Territories. She frequently Drank her Cyber-Tonic from a Vial in her Lab, while going over Her Work.
Perry Wheeled, and Stumbled around the Room, trying to avoid the Icicle Firecrackers, which were Sounding Off whenever he Slid and/or Stepped upon them. He'd apparently been Mega-Dosed, and was now about to Learn what in the World of a Mega-Dosed, Felt Like when Under and In It.
The Wyrms were Sounding Off, in an Acoustics Array, and Perry, Bounded and Rebounded Turning Listless as the Chrysalids Exited him, and Becoming Reinterred into Motion Again, by their Sounds. He was now, well... Not Feeling Like a Perry. That and he was Done, Done, and, "Roared," out. He could No Longer even Find his Own Vocal to Bless How He Felt. Avem came back in, when the Turnabout was Over. She had Observed Perry by a Camera Hidden in the Room, which was Hooked up to her Monitors for Surveillance, as well. Turning on a Ventilation Fan, from outside, which led the Room's Air into a Separate Chamber, she had Two People, Dressed in Dark Robes, walk in, and move Perry back to his Chair, now Limp. They Swept Up, the Remaining Crystalline Deciduates, and Drains Opened, which Took the Little Bit of Liquidine Debris, Out of the Room. Perry, was now Toned.
Swarma, Placed her Hand on his Forehead, at First to Take his Temperature, and then, Mentally Calibrating his Vocal Remembrance within Herself, Uttered a Word to him, While he sat Slumped over the Chair, Catatonic. The Word.
And Therein, may be a Key... His Subconscious Mind, would most certainly Remember. She Had Uttered It, in His Very Own Vocal Tone. Why? It Rendered him Cognizant and Triggered His Mentality, as though His Own... Though, Truly?... Her Own.
Perry was allowed, with the other Time Wraiths as escort, to slowly move around the Manor and familiarize himself with it. He was being taught by them, how to remain very still for long periods of time. Many of the Time Wraiths, were flown out to the Lab down in Tokyo, to use the computers on their Night-Watch Network. The Lab there, housed her prized Hua Niu ("Black Diamond") Apple, Bonsai, kept under specialized lighting, plus numerous other artefacts. It was set up like somewhat of a Museum, with one dimly lit, humming room for computer observancy, which apart from Monitor glare, left much to the realm of the keen observer.
The 34, often formed a Large Pentagram, with two people at each of the five elemental points, two people between each elemental point encompassing, two people between each elemental point intersecting, two people in the very centre, and two people encircling round about. Underneath them, was stone masonwork in black basalt, and a large star outline, traced with gold inlay.
A chandelier hung above them, and the room had an overview of the gated entrance, where birds were often seen in trees, and light could pour in, but at night, the glass of these windows turned sheet-black to buffet them in, high enough up that none might peep.
By no commotion of ceremony, the participants would stand and hear the NicNeven recite her Canon address. The fruits her Science had yielded, sounded in the Hall, and into their collective memory, which disbanded when they did, after she read from her book.
The book, made from gene paper, was their Canon, and this... only a meeting hall. Despite its congressional form, summons were not of sell out to World Teachings. She ranked as their Science-elected, matriarch, of mental-modernity, by the facet of old typings and tyings, to, "new," teachings.
Ruminations from the fruits of her labwork, thereat would be discussed. For if nobody would have them, they most certainly would. Then, and only then, would the lines be codographed (some of the Night-Watch, were also very good hackers). They were secretly culted-over, but by few, and their practicum bore method, not mere devotion. The team were, "Nec-Will'O’Mancer"-affiliate.
An Addendum/Add-On on The Hadena/Gaudy Hadibi/Gift, Out Of Hades/Hell, by Hoodoo (Through Sinter Croft Sinchery, or, alleged Ho-Doctorate).
~ In Other Words: The Elaborately Sinched False-Label on Tobacco Smoke. ~
…
That It Came From, Túḫ-ḫa-a-iz-zi: "To Produce Smoke."
A Variant Of This Hittite Language Word (In Imperative Plural), Is, "Tuḫḫāndu."
…
Because, 'Tuh': Means to, "Pour"/"Give Birth"/"Lay Eggs"/"Touha (Which, implies, by, "Desire")," And/Or, "Tuha," https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/tuh
This, As Well As, 'Tuhh': "Thousand"/"Grand"/"Tonn,” by the Proponent of Measure. https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/tuhh
&
... 'Tuha': "Tuba." https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/туъһа
Where, ... 'Tuba' (Malay Language): Is a, "Poison That Is Made Out Of Root." https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/tuba
Plus, it’s, 'Tuba' (Malay Language), Gives "Duva (Fijian Language),"
For 'Dūbǭ' (Dutch Language): https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/Reconstruction:Proto-Germanic/dūbǭ * 'Dūbǭ', Can Mean, "Dove." *
Thus, “Height.” Though, Holy Spirit (Or Prayers) still, “Intemn”/”Imprison,” you as Indebted by Material Snare (Karmic-Causal Renditions), if not off of it.
…
~ After Tuh, Which Too, Is Tuha.. And Tuha, Which With Tuhh, Is Thousand.. ~
... Kamba Language: "Andu,” for, “Mundu."
• Making, "Tuḫḫāndu."
…
The Reason Why, Is Because,
"Andu (Kamba Language)": "Mundu,"
And "Mundu (Kamba Language)": "A Man,"
When,
"Mʊ̀ntʊ̀ (Proto-Bantu Language)": "Kɪ̀ntʊ̀"/"Thing,"
And "Kɪ̀ntʊ̀"/"Thing,"
When Translated To Nyasa, Chichewa Language: "Chinthu."
This Last Addition Indicates The
Which Would Be The World, If Not By Dove-Letterate.
What did you have me on? Some sort of Cerelium Slick? El, in Perry, broke out bawling. Something so licentious that I can’t tell I’m licked. HaHa.
His stupor adored him with affection, and he had a hammering affectation from it. It caused him to clout his knowing, though only briefly.
Perry came through, yamming… I’m looking back on days of Candy Cloaker Gobstoppers! You mean you literally had me erased… or, where am I?
You Hide no Burger, in Finding Fries, Perald. Daytime is where I have you.
At that, there had been an unconventional or out-of-the-norm convening, where not-an-one of all the attendants had-in, to agree, "We are Necropolitan"... Though, their greed to know, would grow.
Perry led himself back in, looking for his girlfriend, strangely feeling sold out of his nut.
…
Ironically, it was just at that point that Juniper had made it there. She too was undergoing her thought detexturing, “rinse,” that is, the opposite of any detox, after looking like a Raisin May's, “In.”
This was to be the, “Turnabout (a new Ceremony was declared by Avem’s Host in Relative-Caster Company, and held somewhat like a House Party).”
A $9,000.00 Maitland Smith Dollhouse Bar Cabinet, was off in isolated room of the newly Renovated Manor, with a load of Porcelain Dolls and cameras to watch it.
That room was off limits.
Juniper had had it in her know long afore, in dream. Now to hack Avem… oh, where?
…
"Osa," circuit of my air... How can, "I," enfold you? Swarma asked, with a vestitude, which only, behooved to surmise her, with surreptitious guiltiness of paridyllic refrain.
She, “The NicNeven,” winked meaningfully, holding an extremely rare pipe up, skyward.
The Time Wraiths all sat, in their, “F”arm-Ended Theatre apart from the once-Ballroom.
Quieting down, it was in their circle that a cast occurred, but in truth they were no relative summoners and Avem’s Mafia had elected them afresh.
That is… that as they were all a, somewhat afraid and eerily sketched out, “Fresh Crop,” yet and though, she would in fact, have them richly afforded, in Good Time.
…
Avem’s Mafia had sent the former Nec-Will’O’Mancers over to her Manor for the Renovations.
Avem, then, was Crowned, “Accorded,” and the Newly Selected Time Wraiths, could be Trained.
Avem’s Clue In, in her new Role, while in her old Manor seemed to live in it’s espies.
I mean, they must have had her drugged for the whole house to be enchanted, somehow, but the only question is who set it up, and when?
One of her clues, came from a former Nec-Will’O’Mancer silently shadow-encoaching a novice approved in the group, by his far larger boding of path had, in-the-off. She heard the man in her head as well, ruling that Smith had to explore her ties in the Mafia, through rank, a second time, and thus a later, termed-submission as a right of accession, had been officed.
She, once again (the man went over in his mind) being indoctrinated into Mafia rank, though slowly, because her freedom-release methods, were her own merital device, and she needed a longer time to work at them.
Avem, had canned herself intentionally, to stay at a head, but nobody fully knew, how it was done.
Reptilian Mind Control.
-‐-
How could that be?
Look to the Wind, and we shall ride. ~ "Phantom Riding The Whip," where one is not standing on top of a vehicle, but rather, riding over a different type of, "Whip," as a, "Phantom-Circuit." ~
"Now we admonish," they recited.
"Peace be," stated the NicNeven. She inhaled from the lit pipe.
They all, “doned,” her infuriatingness, with amicability.
Now yes, your highest love, and what’s our gift they forecried, awaiting something.
Not of in an any Dib of forgery… You will undoubtedly see. She canned.
Please don’t mess us or master us mental, Avem, one girl joked, admitting the kind dark lair WAS weird.
That's Missus, Avem relegated ghasting.
…
Now, I have here the document they stole it from, a man entering the room said. He read aloud,
The remains of a, "chicote"/"cigar butt"/"cigarette butt."
The Nec-Will'O'Mancers, then stated in unison, reading off of the pamphlets they'd previously been handed out, though in a less clear-and-determined tone, or well (it seemed), in a way that hummed and wandered.
"... Far l'fo, Ho glow. How we sway. How does a hard tar, Lie her thieu, In a chi, icy high..."?
When they were finished reciting, the man continued speaking.
By, "sukunai," "少ない," the man continued in Japanese… a word, which means, "few or little," with the root word, "少し ("すこし," "sukoshi").""
Avem exhaled. "The synonym for, which is, "chotto," she said. So yes... in other words? "A little." "ちょっと ("chotto")," may I add, it has a root word in the adverb, "chito..." "... "ちと ("chito")," as in, "slightly," "a little," "a bit," or, "somewhat," where, "ち ("chi," means, “small”)," and, "と ("to," is an adverbial particle). "と ("to")," is also a noun, which is short for, "と金 (tokin)," which will now indicate a promoted, "歩兵 ("fuhyō," or, "pawn”)," that, "moves," like a, "金将 ("kinshō," or, “gold general”).""
Thus, what might have been inferred, perhaps, was that a, "Chicote," in a pipe, was, more or less, alike unto a, "Chi Chót," if it did indeed implicate such.
A, "Chót," of course, meaning something at the, "Bottom," "Lowest Extremity," or, "End," of something, and from there, or at that point, perhaps even then moving forward.
Chicote, apart from being a form of Tobacco, was also, in all truth, a form of, "Whip," known for being a Scourge, in places like the Congo.
The NicNeven, had already caught wise to this, and also how, this form of Tobacco, may have had it's own "Xicohtli (a Nahuatl word, for, "Bumblebee")."
I guess, what needed to be said most (as a nod to the Indigenous People), was that they were good to hold a Peace over the Herb, and also Bow...
Some people may have needed a Peace Blessed over them, knowing the Nature of how all Words exist with ties to Power.
…
This time, however, she was not merely dreaming with the pipe. She aimed to begin work on something more pivotal. Holding her peace, over them, as though the Time Wraiths had not, in fact, been led by her to keep a different mindset, themselves, she kept them aware, of the part of her mind they were let in by.
A part, they would not be able to share. When inhaling, she did so with a strickening wind, through sympathetic diacords and resonance fields, and from a region locked onto by the Time Wraiths collective awareness. The NicNeven (we presume, remaining silent somewhere at the top of an, "imaginary," but quite irregal, circuit of Heaven, and with her pipe), had her whole lot hidden safely away, and blessed unseen.
She, "wind-let," her chosen remote area, with the pipe, from a distance, as though it were a whip and a scourge, creating yet another (this time stronger), bane.
Her smoke summons, were such that, she hoped to collect and open them, one day, as a portal, to dawn on the World.
As for the pipe vision. This one was well formed. She might have make a centrepiece of it, on table somewhere.
Many of them, rested on glass plates, with glass cases overtop. After their Surveillance Circuit had run, "Ash-Line Data," or, "Pipe Particle Intel," was fed through a Computer on the Ash-Configuracy, Analysis-Observancy Program, of the, 'Night-Watch Circuit', of the, "Time Wraiths"-Network, and for a Number of Reasons...
One, being that the Data, would often be used to reproduce these, "In-Pipe Visions," as, "Viable Product-for-Sale ("Furnishings from the, "Furnace,"" so-to-speak)," and so they needed a Good Record of Analysis kept for Reproduction. "Pipe Reproductions," would be made using more Durable Materials, and Non-Smokable Materials. The Data, would also allow the group to Configure Predictions of Ash-Shift, with a Matrix, once Measurements and Variables were Plugged into an appropriate Coded Program Logarithm, which helped them see, potential Shift Patterns, which may yet arise. The Furnishings, were to be kept as Permanent Pipes... Artefacts, for the Mansion, and Museum, of Swarma.
'Necrolith Spectre'. ~ The NicNeven's, "Necrolith Spectre," had a very real premise. She, had drawn Chi through her Summon of Feiz, by a Fix. ~
"Chi (# 14)": https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/%E3%81%A1
"Summon ("Korean," Language)": 徴 https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/%E5%BE%B4#Japanese
"Feiz ("Zhuang," Language)": https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/feiz#Zhuang
"Fix ("Bouyei," Language)": https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/fix
Andrew wrote obscurely,
My thought is that the Jinwen Bian, Bronze Inscription, of, "Fá (in the Mandarin Language)," ties itself over to, "Fät (in the "Volapük," Language)," and thus relates to, "Fate," and, "Karma."
"Fat (in the Cantonese Language)," means, "Buddha," and is related to, "Fá (in Mandarin)," while, "Fät (in the Voläpuk Language)," is characteristic of, "Buddhist Philosophy."
Does anyone else see the Structure of the Modern, "Wheel," in the Mandarin, "Fá?" - A.W.T. (November 18th, 2020).
‘A, “Marrow Vin Gean”’.
The Holy Spirit Sword cuts through to the Marrow. This is intended to mean that it is versatile. Only, more to the point, that it is not intended for vice.
How this happens, is that it has verses, in tandem occurrence, operating in relevant reflection, on Scripture, and is designed to heal. That is… before having thought of attack or rendering anyone ineffectual.
Wisdom from Jesus, in Scripture, teaches us, that, without Doctrinal relevance, and Revelation, we live on a Dying Planet and cause it.
~ Falling out of our mouths, if I may add. ~ The tongue is a venomous instrument, which apart from destroying, needs to be bridled with Scriptural Truth and or the Gospel, or healing falls away from what we know of vital spirit, sowing, growing, engrafting, and planning.
However picking up on any dead line of “Prayer Chain (for things truly are, by introspection, a righteously bidden, divine godly judgement's in of how to live by a planetary Monodeism and not just by correspondence, but mainly faith in Him),” to help, Christianly, defeat the death of the soul. [Angelic parameters, of what’s barred, of course had in, or it’s out a’barren]
Marrow is where the Blood Cells are created before reaching the Circulatory System.
This is in the bone.
Luz is the Catholic-Bidden Vertebrae/Spinal Column Bone for Resurrection.
As Jesus commands one to Live or the Tree not to grow for being of ill time, Our lines have a prayer solvency to that line of fess, by the Vin, or vine, and gean or Spirit.
However, Merovingeans are babylonian Dragon order. We needed it bidden less graven.
Made of Heaven, wise, the sword knows the hairs on the heads of the utilizers and counting unequal, may perform.
That is, off for bolder lead, and even balded for baring, out of the Worker’s Parable of God’s Constance and Unequal Nature, bearers of it's Fire, may see, and do oft’ find some in their know, of the Church Hold on Word.
Obvious?
This is the Rate Of Pay, in the Vineyard Parable, of the Workers who worked (un-in Mammon), for their Lord (Christ), earlier, and then some other, later (ie. When, in Truth, found bidden in and by Him, a fair constant is maintained, no matter World Climate, in the Fellowship), for and not toward, the forever, for they may not be bidden.
God unriddled.
Jesus, is the Amen in Revelations 3:14, He Ransoms Believers Souls, through Self Sacrifice and Sovereign Service, his father, created and lawed through the covenants, and the commandments, and owned all heaven host and hierarch, and the Holy Spirit, Blessed the Way.
'On What Could Have Been'.
An expensive matryoshka was brought in for Ralph to look at...
He received the package at his Estate, and had a hard time with his spectacles, adjusting them trying to read the fine print.
The brown paper parcel, with white sticker, opened to a smaller purple gift box, within it. The gift box was about the size of an order of chow mein, and from within the lilac tissue paper inside, was a golden doll. Andrei, Fu, and Evelyn, had driven back and were now seated around Mr. Dizzmith.
Well, here it is, he stated. No word of who it's from, not to mention that I'm not working anymore.
Is it another antique asked Andrei?
Yes, and well, I think it is, replied the Senior, but the thing is, I don't know how to open it. It's a Matryoshka or Russian Nesting Doll, and this one is rather expensive, but the Middle Circumference of the Doll has a Twistable-Dial Lock, and I've never known that to be the case before.
Would you wager all the others inside it are like that, too? asked Evelyn. I know what Matryoshkas are, but you're right. This one DOES seem a little bedeviled.
Perhaps said Ralph.
Do you think there is anything inside, asked Fu.
It looks a little weighty. Is it a bomb? Asked Evelyn.
Nobody would bomb a man like Mr. Dizzmith, said Andrei, but just to be on the safe side, I'll look it up. Andrei pulled out his Smart Phone.
Most bombs don't have Passcodes, said Fu. Look, the Passcode is right here on the box.
It says the code can be adjusted and is made to be matrilineal.
This is most definitely a finely-crafted specimen then, but how does it work? asked Ralph.
Well, it looks like every Doll has two turnable dials at the vertical middle, which run horizontal and around the circumference. These are adjusted from within, when open, and numerically set with dates for a passcode, before the top and bottom on each doll are latched, that is. Each doll is secured, around and over the former one, which has been latched or fastened, and each, in so doing, has its dials consecutively scrambled from the outside, before putting the next doll on it. The dolls are hollow, and increase in scale, to fit, while the locks operate by Birth Years of mothers, or rather, daughters. If one Mother or Grandmother, leaves a Sum, in her Will, to the, 'Matryoshka Fund', it will Increase in Interest, and if they send an Heirloom in With the Money, once the Company is Informed of the Birth of the Final Child, they will send the Doll to the Final Child, Heirloom within It. The Family History, and Records are Sent too, as the Locks are Set with Birth Years, of Mothers, in Chronological Order or First to Last, and this Prevents the Wrong Families from Accessing the Contents.
If No Contents, are Sent by the Ancestral Will-Bearer, Gifts-in-Shop, may also be Included, upon Initial Order Selection.
The Company/Fund, occasionally Touches Base with the Families, but this is Less Common.
Who is it for? asked Evelyn.
I have no idea, but there's some Weird Vial in it!
What could it be of, though?
Well, Matryoshka's are generally not compartments, made use of, for containing things, but this appears to be a Vial of Oil.
"Oyle," is a rare name for the Saviour, "Jesus Christ," remarked Andrei.
"Oyle ("Middle English," Language)": # 2.4. https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/oyle Maybe an Heiress, then? said Ralph. WHO could she have been?!
submitted by Bogey4hoo to u/Bogey4hoo [link] [comments]
At the, "Dere-Licht," Manor, upon the Steps of the Stairs, a Smoked Pipe was placed. In the very Centre of the Meeting Hall (the Room off to the Side from the Bottom of the Stairwell), there was another one, as well. Okay well, throughout the entire building... More like, a GREAT number!
Avem had them placed all throughout that Rebuilt Old Character House, and within that Glorified Mansion, there were Smoked Pipes, In and On Cupboards, Resting Upon Windowsills (with the Drapes Pulled or Left Open), upon Countertops, Hidden Inside of Bookshelves (if not Resting Upon them), of course on the Mantle, Hidden In and Around Corners.. at Every End, Above and Slightly Adjacent to Entrances, and even some, which were included upon the Tabletops...
All of these Smoking Pipes, some with Ashen Remainders in them, some only Constructed Models of, what we imagine, would have been kept for their Interest Sake, were watched by a Careful Set-Up, of Video Surveillance.
The Surveillance, Signaled Hanging Display Monitors, all throughout the House, and also at Avem's Lab in Tokyo. Some of these Monitors, were Hanging from the Ceiling, at the Walls, Facing Down and Into the Rooms. Others, in the Bedrooms, were Level with Sitting Chairs, where one might want to Sit Down and Look At Them.
They were Set Up, Primarily, To Catch Every Angle and Motion of Light or Shadow Upon or Within the Pipes. This Recording of Smoked Rememberances, took place Every Night and Day, from the Rising to the Setting of the Sun, all Throughout the Years. What were the Ashes for?
…
Granny Smith, he yelled. I'm telling you! She didn't believe him one bit. And you pretend you weren't looking for me!?...
She interrogated him fearsomely. Do you know who I am???
Do you know who I am, "Roared," Perry, back at her, bleakly. He was terrified. Though, he somehow managed to pull off a tone, which mirrored her own, with mock mavery.
Down the hall, there was a beep. Close the door, Swarma commanded, looking out through the interrogation Room's Exit. There was the sound of a, "fwoosh," and a, "click," outside of it. Nobody had been at the Exit, either to push or to pull it's heavy door, closed. There was also no telling, of where that other door might be. She took a swab and daubed Perry with it quickly, before leaving. Wait right here, she cackled, smiling a leerily-wisening old grin, as she left him to total.
She was sitting in Emergency, having just made it through Triage. These are for you, said the Faithful and Believing, Catholic Lady Friend of Wells, who passed her some Pamphlets from the Lecture.
The Professor had stopped everything, to see to it that this kind Lady, would bring Juniper to ER, post-haste. June had brought Ren along as a Study Buddy, for Note-Taking, with a Bribe.
Initially, June went out to the Mountains, to collect Perry's belongings from the Rented Cabin. Upon arriving back in town, both she and Ren decided to Drive out to the College for a Lecture, and to Sight-See, while asking people around the Area if they had Seen or Heard from Perry. Could he be haunting her somewhere? Was there any hope?
Although... the Professor HAD, abruptly interrupted his Lecture to find one of his CPR-trained staff to escort Juniper to the nearby Hospital E.R., in the event that she might not make it there herself, and was, "Truly," facing a Medical Crisis.
The Vending Machine, went lame, and the lights in ER flickered for a moment. I'm getting creeped, said Ren. That's all!
Some of Avem's Team, had been in the Trails previously, and Driven a Snowmobile through them, tracing Chemicals through the Snow. A or Spoken Split. It had been at just one of her Lab's Testing Zones.
Avem had caught onto Perry, first, when her Voice Exploded from a Crackling Ice Wyrm/ “i”’Sāqa-Šaqqa, in the Cabin's Fireplace.
Avem had been Writing her Vocals into the Chemical Strains of the Ice-Wyrm Constituency Potion, which she concocted in her Lab, and Spread Rumours about, then Codifying it with Automatic Cyber-Sentience Response-Forms, which took initiatives, based on Environmental Factors, and in turn, fed back Information. This Data, was made readable by her Reverse Tonic, which Tabulated it, by Codices, which had Variables in her own Mental Inter-Framing. Cog-Notes, if you will, to her own Cognition. All of, these, Variables, which entered her Consideration, let her Pry, both on Known, and Unknown, Territories. She frequently Drank her Cyber-Tonic from a Vial in her Lab, while going over Her Work.
The Wyrms were Sounding Off, in an Acoustics Array, and Perry, Bounded and Rebounded Turning Listless as the Chrysalids Exited him, and Becoming Reinterred into Motion Again, by their Sounds. He was now, well... Not Feeling Like a Perry. That and he was Done, Done, and, "Roared," out. He could No Longer even Find his Own Vocal to Bless How He Felt. Avem came back in, when the Turnabout was Over. She had Observed Perry by a Camera Hidden in the Room, which was Hooked up to her Monitors for Surveillance, as well. Turning on a Ventilation Fan, from outside, which led the Room's Air into a Separate Chamber, she had Two People, Dressed in Dark Robes, walk in, and move Perry back to his Chair, now Limp. They Swept Up, the Remaining Crystalline Deciduates, and Drains Opened, which Took the Little Bit of Liquidine Debris, Out of the Room. Perry, was now Toned.
Swarma, Placed her Hand on his Forehead, at First to Take his Temperature, and then, Mentally Calibrating his Vocal Remembrance within Herself, Uttered a Word to him, While he sat Slumped over the Chair, Catatonic. The Word.
And Therein, may be a Key... His Subconscious Mind, would most certainly Remember. She Had Uttered It, in His Very Own Vocal Tone. Why? It Rendered him Cognizant and Triggered His Mentality, as though His Own... Though, Truly?... Her Own.
A chandelier hung above them, and the room had an overview of the gated entrance, where birds were often seen in trees, and light could pour in, but at night, the glass of these windows turned sheet-black to buffet them in, high enough up that none might peep.
By no commotion of ceremony, the participants would stand and hear the NicNeven recite her Canon address. The fruits her Science had yielded, sounded in the Hall, and into their collective memory, which disbanded when they did, after she read from her book.
The book, made from gene paper, was their Canon, and this... only a meeting hall. Despite its congressional form, summons were not of sell out to World Teachings. She ranked as their Science-elected, matriarch, of mental-modernity, by the facet of old typings and tyings, to, "new," teachings.
Ruminations from the fruits of her labwork, thereat would be discussed. For if nobody would have them, they most certainly would. Then, and only then, would the lines be codographed (some of the Night-Watch, were also very good hackers). They were secretly culted-over, but by few, and their practicum bore method, not mere devotion. The team were, "Nec-Will'O’Mancer"-affiliate.
~ In Other Words: The Elaborately Sinched False-Label on Tobacco Smoke. ~
…
That It Came From, Túḫ-ḫa-a-iz-zi: "To Produce Smoke."
A Variant Of This Hittite Language Word (In Imperative Plural), Is, "Tuḫḫāndu."
…
Because, 'Tuh': Means to, "Pour"/"Give Birth"/"Lay Eggs"/"Touha (Which, implies, by, "Desire")," And/Or, "Tuha," https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/tuh
This, As Well As, 'Tuhh': "Thousand"/"Grand"/"Tonn,” by the Proponent of Measure. https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/tuhh
&
... 'Tuha': "Tuba." https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/туъһа
Where, ... 'Tuba' (Malay Language): Is a, "Poison That Is Made Out Of Root." https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/tuba
Plus, it’s, 'Tuba' (Malay Language), Gives "Duva (Fijian Language),"
For 'Dūbǭ' (Dutch Language): https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/Reconstruction:Proto-Germanic/dūbǭ * 'Dūbǭ', Can Mean, "Dove." *
Thus, “Height.” Though, Holy Spirit (Or Prayers) still, “Intemn”/”Imprison,” you as Indebted by Material Snare (Karmic-Causal Renditions), if not off of it.
…
~ After Tuh, Which Too, Is Tuha.. And Tuha, Which With Tuhh, Is Thousand.. ~
... Kamba Language: "Andu,” for, “Mundu."
• Making, "Tuḫḫāndu."
…
The Reason Why, Is Because,
"Andu (Kamba Language)": "Mundu,"
And "Mundu (Kamba Language)": "A Man,"
When,
"Mʊ̀ntʊ̀ (Proto-Bantu Language)": "Kɪ̀ntʊ̀"/"Thing,"
And "Kɪ̀ntʊ̀"/"Thing,"
When Translated To Nyasa, Chichewa Language: "Chinthu."
This Last Addition Indicates The
- "Co."
Which Would Be The World, If Not By Dove-Letterate.
- Jehu, Jehu, He’ish I Say too. *
- Anyhow, the Natives know it by another name. Hope you've enjoyed the Lesson!
His stupor adored him with affection, and he had a hammering affectation from it. It caused him to clout his knowing, though only briefly.
Perry came through, yamming… I’m looking back on days of Candy Cloaker Gobstoppers! You mean you literally had me erased… or, where am I?
You Hide no Burger, in Finding Fries, Perald. Daytime is where I have you.
At that, there had been an unconventional or out-of-the-norm convening, where not-an-one of all the attendants had-in, to agree, "We are Necropolitan"... Though, their greed to know, would grow.
Perry led himself back in, looking for his girlfriend, strangely feeling sold out of his nut.
…
Ironically, it was just at that point that Juniper had made it there. She too was undergoing her thought detexturing, “rinse,” that is, the opposite of any detox, after looking like a Raisin May's, “In.”
This was to be the, “Turnabout (a new Ceremony was declared by Avem’s Host in Relative-Caster Company, and held somewhat like a House Party).”
A $9,000.00 Maitland Smith Dollhouse Bar Cabinet, was off in isolated room of the newly Renovated Manor, with a load of Porcelain Dolls and cameras to watch it.
That room was off limits.
Juniper had had it in her know long afore, in dream. Now to hack Avem… oh, where?
…
"Osa," circuit of my air... How can, "I," enfold you? Swarma asked, with a vestitude, which only, behooved to surmise her, with surreptitious guiltiness of paridyllic refrain.
She, “The NicNeven,” winked meaningfully, holding an extremely rare pipe up, skyward.
The Time Wraiths all sat, in their, “F”arm-Ended Theatre apart from the once-Ballroom.
Quieting down, it was in their circle that a cast occurred, but in truth they were no relative summoners and Avem’s Mafia had elected them afresh.
That is… that as they were all a, somewhat afraid and eerily sketched out, “Fresh Crop,” yet and though, she would in fact, have them richly afforded, in Good Time.
…
Avem’s Mafia had sent the former Nec-Will’O’Mancers over to her Manor for the Renovations.
Avem, then, was Crowned, “Accorded,” and the Newly Selected Time Wraiths, could be Trained.
Avem’s Clue In, in her new Role, while in her old Manor seemed to live in it’s espies.
I mean, they must have had her drugged for the whole house to be enchanted, somehow, but the only question is who set it up, and when?
One of her clues, came from a former Nec-Will’O’Mancer silently shadow-encoaching a novice approved in the group, by his far larger boding of path had, in-the-off. She heard the man in her head as well, ruling that Smith had to explore her ties in the Mafia, through rank, a second time, and thus a later, termed-submission as a right of accession, had been officed.
She, once again (the man went over in his mind) being indoctrinated into Mafia rank, though slowly, because her freedom-release methods, were her own merital device, and she needed a longer time to work at them.
Avem, had canned herself intentionally, to stay at a head, but nobody fully knew, how it was done.
Reptilian Mind Control.
-‐-
How could that be?
Look to the Wind, and we shall ride. ~ "Phantom Riding The Whip," where one is not standing on top of a vehicle, but rather, riding over a different type of, "Whip," as a, "Phantom-Circuit." ~
"Now we admonish," they recited.
"Peace be," stated the NicNeven. She inhaled from the lit pipe.
They all, “doned,” her infuriatingness, with amicability.
Now yes, your highest love, and what’s our gift they forecried, awaiting something.
Not of in an any Dib of forgery… You will undoubtedly see. She canned.
Please don’t mess us or master us mental, Avem, one girl joked, admitting the kind dark lair WAS weird.
That's Missus, Avem relegated ghasting.
…
Now, I have here the document they stole it from, a man entering the room said. He read aloud,
The remains of a, "chicote"/"cigar butt"/"cigarette butt."
The Nec-Will'O'Mancers, then stated in unison, reading off of the pamphlets they'd previously been handed out, though in a less clear-and-determined tone, or well (it seemed), in a way that hummed and wandered.
"... Far l'fo, Ho glow. How we sway. How does a hard tar, Lie her thieu, In a chi, icy high..."?
When they were finished reciting, the man continued speaking.
By, "sukunai," "少ない," the man continued in Japanese… a word, which means, "few or little," with the root word, "少し ("すこし," "sukoshi").""
Avem exhaled. "The synonym for, which is, "chotto," she said. So yes... in other words? "A little." "ちょっと ("chotto")," may I add, it has a root word in the adverb, "chito..." "... "ちと ("chito")," as in, "slightly," "a little," "a bit," or, "somewhat," where, "ち ("chi," means, “small”)," and, "と ("to," is an adverbial particle). "と ("to")," is also a noun, which is short for, "と金 (tokin)," which will now indicate a promoted, "歩兵 ("fuhyō," or, "pawn”)," that, "moves," like a, "金将 ("kinshō," or, “gold general”).""
Thus, what might have been inferred, perhaps, was that a, "Chicote," in a pipe, was, more or less, alike unto a, "Chi Chót," if it did indeed implicate such.
A, "Chót," of course, meaning something at the, "Bottom," "Lowest Extremity," or, "End," of something, and from there, or at that point, perhaps even then moving forward.
Chicote, apart from being a form of Tobacco, was also, in all truth, a form of, "Whip," known for being a Scourge, in places like the Congo.
The NicNeven, had already caught wise to this, and also how, this form of Tobacco, may have had it's own "Xicohtli (a Nahuatl word, for, "Bumblebee")."
I guess, what needed to be said most (as a nod to the Indigenous People), was that they were good to hold a Peace over the Herb, and also Bow...
Some people may have needed a Peace Blessed over them, knowing the Nature of how all Words exist with ties to Power.
…
This time, however, she was not merely dreaming with the pipe. She aimed to begin work on something more pivotal. Holding her peace, over them, as though the Time Wraiths had not, in fact, been led by her to keep a different mindset, themselves, she kept them aware, of the part of her mind they were let in by.
A part, they would not be able to share. When inhaling, she did so with a strickening wind, through sympathetic diacords and resonance fields, and from a region locked onto by the Time Wraiths collective awareness. The NicNeven (we presume, remaining silent somewhere at the top of an, "imaginary," but quite irregal, circuit of Heaven, and with her pipe), had her whole lot hidden safely away, and blessed unseen.
She, "wind-let," her chosen remote area, with the pipe, from a distance, as though it were a whip and a scourge, creating yet another (this time stronger), bane.
Her smoke summons, were such that, she hoped to collect and open them, one day, as a portal, to dawn on the World.
As for the pipe vision. This one was well formed. She might have make a centrepiece of it, on table somewhere.
Many of them, rested on glass plates, with glass cases overtop. After their Surveillance Circuit had run, "Ash-Line Data," or, "Pipe Particle Intel," was fed through a Computer on the Ash-Configuracy, Analysis-Observancy Program, of the, 'Night-Watch Circuit', of the, "Time Wraiths"-Network, and for a Number of Reasons...
One, being that the Data, would often be used to reproduce these, "In-Pipe Visions," as, "Viable Product-for-Sale ("Furnishings from the, "Furnace,"" so-to-speak)," and so they needed a Good Record of Analysis kept for Reproduction. "Pipe Reproductions," would be made using more Durable Materials, and Non-Smokable Materials. The Data, would also allow the group to Configure Predictions of Ash-Shift, with a Matrix, once Measurements and Variables were Plugged into an appropriate Coded Program Logarithm, which helped them see, potential Shift Patterns, which may yet arise. The Furnishings, were to be kept as Permanent Pipes... Artefacts, for the Mansion, and Museum, of Swarma.
'Necrolith Spectre'. ~ The NicNeven's, "Necrolith Spectre," had a very real premise. She, had drawn Chi through her Summon of Feiz, by a Fix. ~
"Summon ("Korean," Language)": 徴 https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/%E5%BE%B4#Japanese
"Feiz ("Zhuang," Language)": https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/feiz#Zhuang
"Fix ("Bouyei," Language)": https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/fix
My thought is that the Jinwen Bian, Bronze Inscription, of, "Fá (in the Mandarin Language)," ties itself over to, "Fät (in the "Volapük," Language)," and thus relates to, "Fate," and, "Karma."
"Fat (in the Cantonese Language)," means, "Buddha," and is related to, "Fá (in Mandarin)," while, "Fät (in the Voläpuk Language)," is characteristic of, "Buddhist Philosophy."
Does anyone else see the Structure of the Modern, "Wheel," in the Mandarin, "Fá?" - A.W.T. (November 18th, 2020).
- No-one knew why. *
The Holy Spirit Sword cuts through to the Marrow. This is intended to mean that it is versatile. Only, more to the point, that it is not intended for vice.
How this happens, is that it has verses, in tandem occurrence, operating in relevant reflection, on Scripture, and is designed to heal. That is… before having thought of attack or rendering anyone ineffectual.
Wisdom from Jesus, in Scripture, teaches us, that, without Doctrinal relevance, and Revelation, we live on a Dying Planet and cause it.
~ Falling out of our mouths, if I may add. ~ The tongue is a venomous instrument, which apart from destroying, needs to be bridled with Scriptural Truth and or the Gospel, or healing falls away from what we know of vital spirit, sowing, growing, engrafting, and planning.
However picking up on any dead line of “Prayer Chain (for things truly are, by introspection, a righteously bidden, divine godly judgement's in of how to live by a planetary Monodeism and not just by correspondence, but mainly faith in Him),” to help, Christianly, defeat the death of the soul. [Angelic parameters, of what’s barred, of course had in, or it’s out a’barren]
Marrow is where the Blood Cells are created before reaching the Circulatory System.
This is in the bone.
Luz is the Catholic-Bidden Vertebrae/Spinal Column Bone for Resurrection.
As Jesus commands one to Live or the Tree not to grow for being of ill time, Our lines have a prayer solvency to that line of fess, by the Vin, or vine, and gean or Spirit.
However, Merovingeans are babylonian Dragon order. We needed it bidden less graven.
- Remember the Holy Ghost is of the Burning Bush, with Moses, in Exodus, in The Holy Bible (and not only there).
Made of Heaven, wise, the sword knows the hairs on the heads of the utilizers and counting unequal, may perform.
That is, off for bolder lead, and even balded for baring, out of the Worker’s Parable of God’s Constance and Unequal Nature, bearers of it's Fire, may see, and do oft’ find some in their know, of the Church Hold on Word.
Obvious?
This is the Rate Of Pay, in the Vineyard Parable, of the Workers who worked (un-in Mammon), for their Lord (Christ), earlier, and then some other, later (ie. When, in Truth, found bidden in and by Him, a fair constant is maintained, no matter World Climate, in the Fellowship), for and not toward, the forever, for they may not be bidden.
God unriddled.
Jesus, is the Amen in Revelations 3:14, He Ransoms Believers Souls, through Self Sacrifice and Sovereign Service, his father, created and lawed through the covenants, and the commandments, and owned all heaven host and hierarch, and the Holy Spirit, Blessed the Way.
An expensive matryoshka was brought in for Ralph to look at...
He received the package at his Estate, and had a hard time with his spectacles, adjusting them trying to read the fine print.
The brown paper parcel, with white sticker, opened to a smaller purple gift box, within it. The gift box was about the size of an order of chow mein, and from within the lilac tissue paper inside, was a golden doll. Andrei, Fu, and Evelyn, had driven back and were now seated around Mr. Dizzmith.
Well, here it is, he stated. No word of who it's from, not to mention that I'm not working anymore.
Is it another antique asked Andrei?
Yes, and well, I think it is, replied the Senior, but the thing is, I don't know how to open it. It's a Matryoshka or Russian Nesting Doll, and this one is rather expensive, but the Middle Circumference of the Doll has a Twistable-Dial Lock, and I've never known that to be the case before.
Would you wager all the others inside it are like that, too? asked Evelyn. I know what Matryoshkas are, but you're right. This one DOES seem a little bedeviled.
Perhaps said Ralph.
Do you think there is anything inside, asked Fu.
It looks a little weighty. Is it a bomb? Asked Evelyn.
Nobody would bomb a man like Mr. Dizzmith, said Andrei, but just to be on the safe side, I'll look it up. Andrei pulled out his Smart Phone.
Most bombs don't have Passcodes, said Fu. Look, the Passcode is right here on the box.
It says the code can be adjusted and is made to be matrilineal.
This is most definitely a finely-crafted specimen then, but how does it work? asked Ralph.
Well, it looks like every Doll has two turnable dials at the vertical middle, which run horizontal and around the circumference. These are adjusted from within, when open, and numerically set with dates for a passcode, before the top and bottom on each doll are latched, that is. Each doll is secured, around and over the former one, which has been latched or fastened, and each, in so doing, has its dials consecutively scrambled from the outside, before putting the next doll on it. The dolls are hollow, and increase in scale, to fit, while the locks operate by Birth Years of mothers, or rather, daughters. If one Mother or Grandmother, leaves a Sum, in her Will, to the, 'Matryoshka Fund', it will Increase in Interest, and if they send an Heirloom in With the Money, once the Company is Informed of the Birth of the Final Child, they will send the Doll to the Final Child, Heirloom within It. The Family History, and Records are Sent too, as the Locks are Set with Birth Years, of Mothers, in Chronological Order or First to Last, and this Prevents the Wrong Families from Accessing the Contents.
If No Contents, are Sent by the Ancestral Will-Bearer, Gifts-in-Shop, may also be Included, upon Initial Order Selection.
The Company/Fund, occasionally Touches Base with the Families, but this is Less Common.
Who is it for? asked Evelyn.
I have no idea, but there's some Weird Vial in it!
What could it be of, though?
Well, Matryoshka's are generally not compartments, made use of, for containing things, but this appears to be a Vial of Oil.
"Oyle," is a rare name for the Saviour, "Jesus Christ," remarked Andrei.
"Oyle ("Middle English," Language)": # 2.4. https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/oyle Maybe an Heiress, then? said Ralph. WHO could she have been?!