How To Put A Lucky 15 On At Paddy Power

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I'd never been very fond of tea. Iced tea, sure. The Arnold Palmer was probably my favourite drink in the world. But actual proper tea? Well, I wasn't a fan of hot leaf water, thin and unsatisfying as it was.
But after the incident with Will, Valentine had suggested that I take a break, try some of the tea. It felt an awful lot like being sent to my room, but I didn't argue, embarrassed as I was. So I'd found the set of punch cards, picked the tea I'd disliked the least, and a moment later a stream of hot black tea filled the tiny porcelain cup.
It was all I could do not to crush it to dust in my fist. My anger at Will had burned itself out, leaving only frustration. Simon had seen me lose it, and Valentine had seen me lose it. Damn it all, getting hauled off to another world was supposed to be a chance for me to start over. And here I was falling back into the same old destructive patterns.
I looked up with a start as the latch clicked open, and Valentine appeared in the doorway. Still at the threshold, she took a deep breath before stepping inside and closing the door.
"Good," she said pleasantly, "It doesn't smell as if you're about to tear someone limb from limb, anymore."
"Yeah..." I said slowly, "Sorry about that."
Valentine frowned in confusion for a moment, before rolling her eyes and sighing in exasperation. She came over to the couch I was monopolizing, sat down in my lap, and put an arm around my neck.
"You thought I'd be angry with you?"
"Yeah, I did kinda lose my shit at Will. And I-" I hesitated, "I've really liked, you know, this," I said vaguely, gesturing at her on my lap, "And then, well, I went and did what I did."
Val absently flicked her wrist, "You didn't throw me in a river- today -and besides, you said it yourself. Like it or not, by taking the hotel we've made ourselves the local rulers, and I can only imagine what the baroness would have done had someone disrespected her in the manner Will did. And Temerity? If she were feeling merciful, perhaps she'd have him flogged, though death would not be out of the question. This world is crueller and harsher than the one you left, a leader cannot accept such disrespect, lest they not remain in power for long."
She patted my cheek, "But you did make two mistakes. Will did need to receive his comeuppance, but it should have been better reasoned. Thankfully I don't believe Simon saw much of what happened before the human struck the window, so as far as he knows, it was well reasoned."
"What about Matt?" I asked, "The gynoid?"
"Neither of them is of any consequence. But there is still your second mistake. I am not a reward for good behaviour," she intoned, her voice a near growl, “You beat the hell out of someone, whether they deserve it or not, and what, I'm supposed to scorn your affections to teach you a lesson? Or perhaps you carry a dozen orphans from a burning building, am I to swoon and throw myself at your feet? No," she growled, "If I want you, I will have you. Or perhaps I'll decide that men are not to my taste, and I'll invite girls from The Blushing Maiden to warm my bed. Whatever I choose, it will be that way precisely because I am the one that gets to choose, and not because the gods are rewarding you with a pretty toy," she held up a clenched fist, "Forget that, and I'll thump you until you remember."
I cast a side-eyed glance at her delicate little hand, and when my gaze returned to her face, I found her smirking.
"I know," she agreed readily, "I'd probably break my hand, and then wouldn't you feel terrible."
I raised my hands, "Okay, okay. Please, no thumping."
Val hopped up, "I'm glad we've had this talk. Now if you're finished sulking, the gynoid and I finished the puzzle. The penalty timer should be almost over, and we're only a few minutes behind Simon. Come now, I imagine the two of us will need a translator for this next puzzle, and you'll have to do."
"Amazing."
Valentine dropped her arms to her sides and gazed up at me with a degree of exasperation in her eyes that had only previously been achieved under laboratory conditions.
I gave her a wry smile and a shrug.
Valentine looked over at the gynoid, "I could have half a dozen of The Blushing Maiden's most inventive girls at my beck and call, and instead I'm following this idiot around."
Unable to understand Val's words, the gynoid furrowed her brows in confusion, "Your presence clearly arouses the small purple woman, but your words appear to frustrate her. Perhaps you should consider remaining silent more often."
Val raised an eyebrow as my face began to flush, and she glanced between the two of us.
"Excuse me?" I demanded.
"My programming is tuned to recognize certain physical signatures," the gynoid explained, "Pupil dilation, firmness in certain areas, rate of breathing, dampness in others-"
"I get it! You can tell we're horny. I don't need the details!"
"Well, not yourself. You seem much more temperate, at least where Valentine is-"
"So the rules for this one are really simple," I began loudly, in Elvish, and the gynoid subsided demurely, "Finish the maze as fast as you can. It's dark inside, which is why we've got the oil lamps there."
Val smirked, "Anything else?"
"That's it."
"You certain?" She asked, nodding towards the gynoid, "Because it feels like there's a little more going on."
"Maybe I'll swing by The Blushing Maiden and scoop up your favourite girls," I glowered, "Then I won't need to put up with your nonsense."
The rulebook hit the lectern with a thump, and I bent to scoop up a lantern. I lit it, stuffed the box of matches into my pocket, and strode into the maze.
The threshold of the maze was more of the rough masonry work that I'd by now grown familiar with, and I was careful not to catch a toe on the edge of a flagstone as I strode deeper into the maze.
The wavering lamplight reflected dully off the stones, with none of the wet sheen I'd come to expect. The smell of damp was still in the air, but faint, and I could hear no rushing water.
The harsh edges and square corners of the corridor gave way to a winding passage of raw stone. Beyond excavating the passage, little work had been done to finish it. Here and there I could still see the tool marks left by the miners' picks. The girls caught up with me only a moment later, Val close at my right, and the gynoid behind my left shoulder.
The sinuous passage carried on for only a dozen or so strides before it shifted back into a dead straight corridor of worked stone. I lifted the lamp, and could just make out the ghost of a T-junction another dozen paces further. Turning around, I realized why they'd left part of the entrance in-the-raw, as it were. The curves were enough to hide the light of the maze's antechamber, and I suspected that if I were standing at the junction, that the way back to the entrance would look like any of the others.
"Have either of you got anything to mark our path with?" I asked, once in Elvish and again in French.
"I have a pen here somewhere," Val muttered, digging around in her pockets, "It's not meant for hard surfaces, but the ink glows in the dark. It could work."
"I have an internal compass," the gynoid provided, "Though I'm not certain how much use it will be."
"It'll keep us pointed in the right direction at least. With the entrance behind, an exterior wall and Simon's maze to either side, it stands to reason the exit is that way," I pointed out.
"Ah, here it is."
There were a couple false starts as Val worked to get the pen to write on the stone, but in short order, she'd managed a little sketch of a door on the wall of the corridor.
We paused at the junction, and I considered our options while Val knelt to scribble on the floor. The lanterns weren't dim, not by any means, but even so, it was hard to make out much of consequence. One corridor looked much like another.
I still had one of Val's magic torches on me, and they were a lot more durable than the oil lamps, so I took it out, flipped it on, and threw it down the corridor to our right.
"Hey!" Valentine protested.
"What?" I retorted, "Now we can see what's down there, come on, give me yours, and we can see what's down the other one."
"Or we could just walk over there," she insisted, pointing at the torch I'd thrown.
It had come to rest a fair ways off, inside what looked to be a chamber of some sort. The floor was made up of large stone boards, for lack of a better term, and I saw an opening in the far wall.
"Unless you plan on leaving the torches where they lay, we will need to fetch them back."
Ah, yeah, that was a good point.
"Alright, I'll-"
There was a huff of breath, of the sort you might expect from something as large as a horse, or a bull. I raised the lantern, but needn't have bothered. Down the left-hand passage, nearly at the level of the roof, could be seen two burning coals.
The creature's footfalls shook the floor, and as it emerged into the lamplight, I made out the shape of a bull's head atop the body of a giant. Its chest and abdomen were well-muscled and tanned to a bronze sheen. Its wicked horns pointed forward and gleamed like steel. Its breath steamed in the air as it drew nearer, and the red-hot eyes seemed to pulse with every heartbeat.
"Bugger me," Valentine breathed.
"Merde," the gynoid agreed, both of them already backing towards the other corridor.
I reared back and pitched the lantern at the minotaur. It caught the creature in the upper chest, just below the neck, and shattered. The oil inside spilt across its chest and burst into flame, but still, the creature came inexorably onwards.
I had broken into a run even as I'd thrown the lantern, and now fought for more momentum as I charged the minotaur.
The flames might not have fazed the creature, but in the darkened corridor, they were enough to blind it to my approach. I caught it utterly off-guard as I struck it about the waist, hard enough that my teeth clacked together and my head rang with the impact.
We went down in a clattering heap with me atop the thing, and I scrambled for purchase as it thrashed under me. My left hand found one of the horns and held fast. With it for leverage, I pulled myself up to kneel on its chest and drove my fist into its snout with all of my strength. The shock travelled up my arm, a lance of pain that seemed to start at my fingertips, burn through the marrow, and spread across my chest.
Still, it thrashed, so I hit it a second, and then a third time. The pain grew more distant with each strike, and I was about to hit it a fourth time when the gynoid called out.
"Wallace, enough!" she shouted.
I looked up at her, arm cocked to punch the thing, my other hand still gripping its horn as it thrashed about. In the light of her own lantern, she seemed concerned, but not overly worried. I returned my gaze to the creature and understood why.
Its horns and skin didn't just look like polished steel and bronze. They were steel and bronze. It was another automaton, not as complex as the gynoid maid, but certainly a cut above the guards in the first room.
I'd pounded the thing's snout inwards, and it looked as if I'd turned its face inside out.
Valentine came to stand beside the gynoid, "You big wonderful moron," she sighed.
"Hey, you thought the thing was for real at first too," I protested.
The gynoid took my hand gently, even as I argued with Val, and began inspecting it.
"Yes," Val replied primly, "And then I recalled the rules, as you told them to me. Am I mistaken, or wasn't it made clear that nothing here would harm us?"
I let go of the automaton's horn. I'd clutched it so tightly that my hand felt stiff, and I clenched and unclenched it to work the stiffness out of my muscles. Oil had stuck to me in a few spots, though it was nothing serious, and I patted the flames out with my free hand.
I shrugged lamely, and Val leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. Even kneeling, I was tall enough that she had to go up on tiptoe.
"I'll see if the beast you vanquished was guarding anything interesting," she promised, "And if anything frightens me, I'll throw my lantern at it."
I pushed myself up and off of what remained of the automaton, its movements finally slowing, careful to keep my hand steady so that the gynoid could finish cleaning the wound.
She had her nose close to the wounds across my knuckles, to better inspect them in the poor light, but peered up at me as the light of Val's lantern receded.
"Poorly thought out heroics seem to be effective," she remarked.
"What are you, my wingman now?"
She shrugged, "I only wish to be helpful, in whatever manner I may."
"You know, I think I'm good."
"Ah, perhaps she is the one that requires my assistance."
"What's that supposed to mean- Ow!"
"Just a disinfectant. Nothing's broken, but even you may be brought low by infection."
"I found something," came Val's voice, echoing down the hall, and her circle of lamplight joined with ours a moment later.
She held an old fashioned key, large and bright red. It looked more like a prop than the sort of thing that would unlock an actual door.
"It was just around the corner, waiting on a pedestal," she explained, and I muttered a translation to the gynoid as she spoke, "But from the look of things, we were meant to approach from the other side."
"Oh?"
"Yes, the pedestal faces a large blue door. It has a keyhole of the right shape for this," she explained, gesturing with the red key, "But it doesn't turn in the lock. I imagine we were supposed to find a blue key, and use that to get behind the minotaur."
"Sounds like we found a sequence break."
"Hmm," Val mused, "I suppose that's a fair term for it."
"How much you want to bet we'll find a blue key near a red door somewhere down this way?" I asked, jerking my chin towards where I'd thrown the torch.
"Let's hope we've made up some time. Now, how's your hand?" Val asked as the gynoid finished tying the bandage.
"I'll probably have some scars, but it'll be fine," I assured her, "Come on, if we have made up some time, let's not waste any more."
It was as we approached the room with the stone boards that I finally began to hear the rushing water I'd been expecting. I held out a staying hand, and the others slowed.
I jerked a thumb over my shoulder, "We were meant to be running scared through here," I said simply.
The gynoid prodded experimentally at one of the stone boards with the toe of her shoe, and it shifted as she put her weight on it. She leaned into it a little bit, and this end of the board tilted down while the other swung up, and the sound of rushing water filled the room. Not a room of stone boards then, but a room of seesaws.
They were staggered, left, right, left, right. Someone who tried to walk, or more likely, run, across would find themselves always stepping upon the inside edge of one or another.
"There's no pattern here, as there was in the other room," Val frowned.
The gynoid pressed experimentally on the only other board she could reach and watched as it moved.
Then she stood, and outlined her plan, "You see how they alternate? Each set must have its own fulcrum, a bar running the length of the chamber. If we stay near the pivot point, the boards shouldn't rotate much if we are quick enough in the crossing."
Valentine nodded along as I relayed the gynoid's explanation, "Sensible," she agreed, once I was done, "She and I shall go first, now behave yourself and stay here till we're safely across."
"Behave myself?" I growled, but she was already giggling and prancing away with the gynoid close behind.
The two couldn't even speak to one another, and it still felt like the two were conspiring against me.
I smiled despite myself. I was glad they were getting along. I was a little worried that the shapely gynoid would inspire jealousy in the waifish Valentine. But who knows, with Val's tastes being what they are, maybe I was the one that should be jealous, lest the gynoid steal her away from me.
"Catch," Val called, and with a flick of her wrist, the torch flew from where it lay in the centre of the room, to strike me lightly in the chest.
I caught it before it hit the ground and waited for the girls to make it across. It wasn't possible- at least for them -to step directly from the doorway over to where the fulcrum for the one set of boards seemed to be. But a little hop got them close enough, and the boards themselves were heavy enough that they didn't move very quickly under the weight of those two, particularly with them staying near the pivot point.
Considering that this was a game, not a proper deathtrap, odds were good that they might have made it across fine even if they'd gone straight down the middle. Presumably, the creators of the game didn't want it to end with an anti-climax, and an entire team getting dunked in the river would be kinda lame. No, I bet the first couple people would make it across okay. They didn't need to be faster than the automaton, just faster than their slowest friends.
I braced myself on the doorway, and took a wide-reaching step that put my foot just shy of the pivot, and then pushed off the wall with all my strength. I couldn't swing my leg over far enough and ended up with both feet on the near side of the pivot, and my stomach lurched as the board began to tilt inwards.
I didn't bother trying to balance on it. I just started running. It was a clumsy, halting run, as I made sure each step came down on the right set of boards. One wrong step and all my weight would land on the very tip of what was, in essence, a very large lever. The other end would probably cut a gouge into the roof with all the force I'd be putting on it, and I'd end up in the water. Maybe I could catch myself, but the very idea made my elbows hurt. I'm stronger than I look, and I look really fucking strong, but I was still made of meat. I might be able to lift a small car, but that didn't mean my elbows were meant to endure the strain of catching half a ton in free fall.
I veered back towards the centre of the room as I neared the far side. I wouldn't be able to set up my jump as carefully as I'd done the first time, but I had a hunch.
I leapt. Not as far as I could, but as high as I could. And when I landed, it was with both feet planted and legs locked. I didn't crouch to absorb the shock, that would only spread the impact over a longer period, and I needed all of the force to come down in a single instant.
The fulcrum did what I expected it to do, and what roughly made bearings tend to do when they are shocked. It locked in place. Only for an instant, but it was enough. I bent my knees for a second leap, and threw myself through the doorway and right into Val and the gynoid. Val yelped as I bowled right through them, but to my relief, I didn't land atop either.
Val was back on her feet in an instant, "You made it," she cheered.
I brushed the dust from my jeans and straightened, "Yeah yeah, no time for teasing. Come on. We need to hustle."
I broke into a fast walk, and the others jogged to keep up.
"Of course, you can give me my comeuppance later," she agreed, bobbing along at my elbow.
The next junction was, less than simple.
"My my," the gynoid breathed.
"Backtracking through this is going to suck."
We'd emerged into another room, and now stood on a platform six or so feet above the rushing water. There were two raised paths stretching out across the open space, each leading to a separate opening in the far wall. The left way was made up of a large drum that stretched the length of the room. There were no obstacles, but we'd need to walk across the top of it to get across, and I guessed that it would start to rotate as soon as we set foot on it. This was another problem that the girls would find a lot easier than myself, Val in particular. She weighed less than a tenth what I did, and was quite a bit quicker. She'd make fewer mistakes, and they'd cost her less. While one wrong step from me would set the thing rotating rapidly to one side and I'd be thrown off into the water.
The path to the right looked more promising, however, as it was a test of timing, rather than dexterity. On the right was a series of swinging blades, a classic honestly, though the blades were foam, painted in an exaggerated style, rather than sharpened steel.
Finally, at the beginning of each path, was a small pillar with a slot atop it. A slot, very much like the one in the tea vending machine back in the break room.
The gynoid produced three cards from a pocket in her blouse. Two held stylized depictions of piled coins, while the other had a book on its face.
After a moment's thought, I grimaced and shook my head, "We should save it if we can."
"Left, or Right?" Val asked, slowly and carefully.
I frowned, but the gynoid answered, "Right," in elvish.
Clumsy as her pronunciation was, I could understand her at the very least. Which is to say, Val could understand her.
"Oh, don't look so surprised," Val mocked, "The two of us aren't helpless."
"Would you please tell her that the right-hand path is the most likely to bear fruit?" the gynoid requested, "Of both paths, the left is most likely to lead back to the blue door, and we have no need of that now. Besides, I foresee you having difficulty making it across. The right hand then is the easiest for you, and the least likely to send us back where we already were."
"Maybe you should give her the necklace," Val suggested, once I'd finished relaying the gynoid's reasoning, "She seems capable, and I'm not certain what we need you for at this point."
"Maybe I take the key and the gynoid and chuck you in the river," I retorted, "Not certain what we need you for at this point."
"Please, enough flirting, time is of the essence," the gynoid called back.
She'd already made it through the first two swinging blades, and she beckoned us forwards without taking her eyes off the one in front of her.
"Is she chastizing us?"
"Yup."
"Mmm, maybe she'll give me my comeuppance," Val mused.
The timing was simple, and we made our way through with little difficulty. The pattern for the blades was simple and unchanging, and as long as you paid attention, there was plenty of warning before one came down.
The relative simplicity made me wonder if perhaps the automaton had been meant to still be chasing us, or maybe I was merely familiar with this sort of obstacle. Every dungeon in Skyrim seemed to have something like this, after all. The players this maze had been intended for may have looked upon the series of swinging blades with a little more trepidation.
The gynoid was several steps ahead and didn't wait for the two of us to finish making our way through before she slipped through into the passage beyond.
I felt a flash of annoyance. She was doing it wrong, she should be waiting for me, and what if there were traps she didn't spot it in time?
I growled and forced the thought away. The gynoid didn't need my permission to scout ahead. At this point in my life, I'd grown used to being let down in group assignments. And while I'd been out of university for a couple of years now, the memory remained. Which meant I usually did my best to take the reins in matters such as these, and being eight feet tall, people tended to let me. But the gynoid, as well as Valentine, knew what they were doing. I let out a long breath and took a step forwards just as the next blade hit the bottom of its travel and arced out of the way.
The gynoid reappeared only a moment later, holding a green key. Despite her composure, I got the sense that it was all she could do to keep from jumping up and down as she bade us forwards.
"I've found the red door, and this was sitting in front of it," she explained, "Quick, quick, the red key!"
The gynoid's energy was contagious, and Val skipped through close behind as I finished navigating the swinging blades.
There was a sharp right turn, a short length of corridor, another left, and then we stood before the red door. Val drove the key home, and it turned with a laborious ratcheting sound. The key withdrew, and there was a slow clank, clank, clank, as the door began retracting with fits and starts into the floor.
Then the gynoid did start jumping up and down, and I found myself chuckling as she all but bounced off the walls.
"Now what do you find so amusing?" she demanded.
"You're just not what I expected," I replied.
The gynoid pulled up her skirt and swung her legs over the half-open door, "Am I unlike the gynoids on your world?" she asked.
I stepped over after her and reached back to give Val a hand.
"There are no gynoids on my world," I admitted, "Maybe that's why you're not what I expect. Plenty of fictional sentient machines, but no real ones. Like Commander Data from Star Trek. Man, I wanted to be Data when I was a kid."
The gynoid glanced back as she reached the next intersection, saw that we were both close behind, and took the right-hand path. I kept after her, and Val paused only to mark our way before rushing after us.
"This Data, he is a military man, and an officer no less? I'm afraid that such things are not permitted where I come from. And I doubt that any young man wishes he were a combat android."
"Data was the second officer on the Enterprise, the flagship of The United-" I stopped myself, "Well, I thought he was cool at the very least. And as a kid who found the emotions of those around him utterly incomprehensible, he was pretty relatable. He also seemed to know everything, which was pretty cool. Now I don't have any idea if you know everything, but you're a lot warmer than Data. Jumping up and down, bouncing off the walls, eager to win the contest, and most likely plotting my demise with Val."
"I've decided that I like puzzles," she replied, "And I've never won anything before."
At each corner, we'd take the right path, and while we hit dead ends twice, and once found ourselves looping back upon our path, Val's marks made matters clear. Short of running pell-mell down the halls, getting lucky at each turn in the maze, we were making fine time.
"I hear water once again, another puzzle, or perhaps the end?" the gynoid guessed.
"Looks like both," I observed, as we rounded the last corner and stepped out into the final chamber.
The floor of the chamber was a sheet of ice, or very nearly ice. The look was right, it was even as slippery as ice when I knelt to touch it, but the temperature was all wrong. It certainly wasn't warm inside the maze, but it wasn't anywhere near cold enough to keep anything frozen.
Dozens of blocks of ice seemed to grow up out of the sheet, blocking off the direct path to the far side, and forming a sort of mini-maze of its own. This chamber had another pillar waiting to accept the hint card, and I squinted at the maze, trying to figure out what it might do.
To either side of the puzzle were open drops, back down into the river. If I wasn't carefully navigating it, I could slip right off the side and into the water, with nothing to catch myself on.
And on the far side of the icy maze waited a pair of massive stone doors, set with three-
"Damn," I breathed, "We need that blue key-"
Like it or not, we'd seen most everything on this side of the red door. Which meant we'd need to backtrack all the way to the room with the swinging blades and spinning drum and take the other path. That would have been the 'ideal' path, had I not clobbered the minotaur, as it would have led the players through the back way to get at the red key. In fact, the green door was probably over on that side as well, since we hadn't yet run into it.
That drum was going to be a problem, and I didn't know how the hell I was going to make it across. I tried to recall how close together the two exit doors were for that room. Maybe I'd be able to jump across? If not-
"Solve this nonsense," the gynoid urged, interrupting my train of thought, "I will fetch the blue key."
And then she left at a dead run, taking both the green key and the hint card with her as she did.
I felt that flash of annoyance once again, but realized she'd made the right call. Odds were good that she had a more time-consuming task. Whatever the hint card did, it was essentially a time saver. As we were running at the speed of the slowest group it was only sensible she be the one to use it, whether that be on the room we'd seen or another puzzle that might be between her and the blue key.
I turned back to my task and trusted she would see to hers.
"I wonder if a fabric could be made of this material," Valentine pondered.
She was kneeling to inspect the material as I had, though her expression suggested a different set of potential applications than had occurred to me.
"One track mind," I muttered, busy inspecting the puzzle before me.
"Not one track," she protested, "Two, the second one is food. And, well, it's not as if I can eat this, now can I?"
"There is more to life," I remarked.
"Mmm, doubtful."
I swept my gaze across the field of icy blocks, a plan beginning to form in my mind, "At least you know what you want," I replied.
"Yes, now what about this distraction? Have you a way through?"
"Still working on it, but I think I've got a general idea," I assured her, "Hold on, I'm going to try something."
I stepped out onto the not-ice and pushed off the solid stone behind. I began to slide, relatively quickly, towards the row of blocks a few yards off. Try as I might, I couldn't get any lateral motion. Even when I hit the wall and came to a stop, trying to pull myself along the floor was fruitless. Nearly frictionless, I doubted that real ice was anywhere near this slippery. Only pushing off the icy block gave any purchase, and sent me sliding back over the Valentine.
"Alright," I decided, "I've seen this sort of puzzle before. I remember them being a pain in the ass as a kid, but it's actually somewhat simple."
Valentine furrowed her brows, a look of evident concern on her face, "You were faced with such travails as a child?"
I waved a hand, "It was a game, god damn ice gym leaders always had something like this. The point is, the maze we need to solve is not the maze before us."
She quirked an eyebrow, "Do elaborate."
"I mean, it looks easy, the whole thing is laid out in front of us, and that's the trick. It looks like a maze, but if you try to solve it like a normal maze, by tracing the path and trying to follow it, you'll just end up sliding all over the place. No, better to think of it as a series of linked points. The first point is right there," I pointed, "The one place you can reach by sliding across through the gap in the wall. From there, the next set of points are the only ones you can reach by pushing off one of those two walls, and so on, and so on. That keeps you on the right track, and out of the drink."
"Mmm, I think I see what you mean."
"Of course, the real trick is to solve it backwards, since we can see the end from here."
I outlined the path I'd come up with, and once Valentine agreed that it seemed to make sense with the rules I'd outlined, we put it into action. I lead the way, with her one position behind. That way at least she could backtrack if I accidentally put myself in an untenable position, or ended up sliding off the edge. But my reasoning was sound, and the two of us made it across safely.
Valentine was quick to try the red key, but while it turned in the lock, as expected, nothing happened while the others were absent.
"You know, they could have done us the favour of providing somewhere to sit," Valentine said, watching contemptuously as I took a seat on the flagstones with my back to the wall.
I yawned and stretched my arms, "It's a good thing this isn't too comfy, or else I think I'd fall asleep."
She placed a hand on my shoulder to steady herself, and sat across my lap, "Maybe you should have taken more of the tea."
"Not much of a tea drinker," I replied, "Never liked coffee either. Hot chocolate is pretty great, though."
Valentine's eyes grew wide and desirous, "Might such a beverage be created with the ingredients at the hotel?"
"I think I can figure something out," I promised.
Val put her arms around my neck and drew herself in close to kiss the corner of my neck, just below my ear.
"You must realize," she murmured, "It takes some of the fun out of trying to tempt you when you're just so agreeable. A wiser man would make the task seem much more arduous."
I set my jaw and tilted my head to look her in the eye, "I believe you already promised me a rather spectacular kiss."
Val bit her lip and grinned. She shifted in my lap to straddle my hips, instead of sitting across my legs. Tilting her head forwards, her hair fell to cover her face. She reached up to the neck of her flight suit and drew the zipper down to her navel, revealing a silken shift beneath. She filled the air with the aroma of her pheromones, and I felt myself relax as they did their work.
She slipped her hands underneath my shirt and ran them across my abdomen, "Awfully tense, aren't we?"
Even as I watched, beads of moisture began to form on her bare skin, and the already heady scent of her grew almost overpowering.
She ran her fingers through my hair, and with the other, cupped my cheek lightly. Stirring her hips slightly, she drew me in. Lips slightly parted, she pressed hers against mine, and damn, was she ever a tease. She'd draw back, just a little, as I tried to press closer. And each time she would pull away slightly less, slowly giving in, but making me work for it.
I'd slipped a hand in the front of her jumpsuit and under her shift. She never seemed so very small as she did now, with just one of my hands very nearly able to circle her waist. Even with all her enchantments and attitude, I was terrified of hurting her. With Will, I'd lost control for only a moment, and that had still been nearly enough to cripple the armoured man. But with Valentine, even an instant of anger-
She seemed not to care. With the length of her tiny body pressed against my chest, she didn't stop. I was drawn this way and that, as she'd pull back just a little, only to draw me in once again.
It was only once we heard the gynoid's rapid footsteps that we drew reluctantly apart. I helped Val to her feet, and she gave me a wicked grin as she zipped up the front of her flight suit.
Not a moment too soon, as the gynoid appeared at the edge of the icy maze, lantern still swaying too and fro from the jostling it had gotten on the way.
"I have them," she shouted and flung the keys in a high arc.
Green and blue thumped against the door, and they'd not even stopped clattering around on the ground before Valentine had scooped them up and driven them into place. The doors began to move apart, sliding into the walls at either side and as they did, I busied myself guiding the gynoid through the field of ice.
By the time she'd made it across, Val had already slipped through the growing gap and disappeared.
Valentine was not the first into the treasure hall, but judging from the state of things, we'd not been far behind.
The treasure hall ran the width of the building, with a high vaulted ceiling that was held up by pillars so thick I could not circle them with my arms. There were windows at either end of the hall, high in the wall, above the doors that led outside. It was dark beyond those windows, though there was just enough light from the streetlamps outside to show the swirling blizzard that was kept at bay by half an inch of glass.
Behind me stood the exit door to the maze, one of three set into the wall at my back. Ours was still clanking open, and while the centre pair of doors stood empty, those at the far end of the hall remained silent and shut.
Two shallow pools, fed by water flowing out from underneath the wall, stood between the three exit doors, and I was glad to see that Will was not laying face down in either of them. I still felt anger festering in my gut, but I didn't want to kill the man. I was somewhat concerned to see the trail of droplets and wet footprints that suggested someone had dragged themselves from the pool and gone out into the cold, but hopefully he was smart enough to get somewhere warm in a hurry.
Across from the maze exits were another trio of doors. The largest of which was directly across from us, with a gold number one scribed above, nearly a foot tall. And, unfortunately, they were already open, or nearly so.
It looked like something you'd expect to see on a hangar, with an opening nearly fifty feet wide. The doors hadn't quite finished clanking open, but Simon and his 'angels', as the gynoid had called them, were already picking through the treasures beyond. Jankin stood by the door, standing guard for all the good it did and muttered something at our approach.
Simon glanced up and spread his arms wide, "Hey, you guys made it."
"Anything interesting?" I asked grudgingly.
"Eh, kinda. I bet the intended players would be stoked to win all this," he shrugged.
Simon swept his hand to encompass the furniture, clothes, appliances, and general bric-a-brac piled behind him, "But I'm pretty sure the main ingredients in all this crap are asbestos, lead, and arsenic."
I pointed at the comb that the small and slim one was holding, "At least that comb won't poison anyone. Might explode though."
"What?" Simon demanded.
"Yeah, it looks like ivory, but I'm pretty sure that's celluloid. A whole lot of this junk is celluloid, actually," I realized.
"Celluloid as in film?"
"Celluloid as in the thing made with the same process that creates nitrocellulose. As in guncotton."
Simon switched to Elvish, "Cilla darling, please put that down," he urged, "Everyone, just, maybe don't touch anything."
"Was there any coin?" Valentine sighed.
"Actually, yes. There were several dozen coin purses full of shillings. They're the only thing I'm sure won't eventually be the death of me."
"Do you have any idea what sort of mana there is in arsenic?" Val inquired.
Simon nodded, "I do."
I rolled my eyes, "Feel like sharing?"
"No, not really."
"After I was so kind as to warn you about the celluloid? A great many Victorian and Edwardian women died or were disfigured when celluloid combs and hair clips ignited and set their hair and scalp aflame."
Simon was about to speak, but paused as tall and busty- I think that made her Victoria? -approached and whispered in his ear. Simon frowned, shrugged, and then nodded.
"Tell you what, I won't share what I know about arsenic, but I'll offer a trade. I'll hand over everything in here that's got enough lead in it to be useful, and in exchange, you give me everything in your prize vault that's got at least some arsenic."
I glanced at Val, "Fire, Mind, and Weaken," she provided.
"Deal."
Continued in comment

​

Table of Contents
Chapter 12 l Chapter 13 l Chapter 14 l Chapter 15 l Chapter 16 l Chapter 17 l Chapter 18

Nite
The two weeks passed faster than Yuki had expected. The final evening before Yuki planned to leave was the night of the Announcement Party. As they prepared for the party, Yuki was surprised to see Serren had polished his scales to a high sheen. His shining scales made him stand out in a rather spectacular way.
Serren was dressed in a style in which Yuki had not seen him before. Tight leather shirt over his bare chest, a pair of form-fitting tanned leggings, and a pair of glinting silver rings sat on his horns.
“Wow,” Yuki exclaimed as she glanced at the mirror before her, applying lip gloss, as well as some eyeshadow and eyeliner she had managed to create with Dr. Terasuki. She was missing mascara, but it was the best she could do with what she was given.
She applied the brown and gold glitter filled eyeshadow slowly, finding it worked well as long as she was careful
Yuki’s wings were much easier. Dr. Terasuki had helped her get a feather cleaning compound and conditioner that not only helped clean her feathers but also made them shine.
Serren walked up behind her and placed several chains of silver and gold, jewels around her neck.
There were so many that Yuki felt her neck pull down for a moment as Serren fastened them around her neck.
Yuki noticed that the lengths of the chains went down to her exposed bosom. “Do you have any more necklaces?” Yuki joked.
“Well, the rest of the jewelry that Allia had is for horns and her arms,” Serren said as he motioned to her beautiful backless golden gown’s sleeves, “and I think this is enough shimmer for your arm.”
“I guess dragons really like shiny objects, huh?” Yuki smiled up to Serren.
"You are my shining angel, so I would have to say 'yes'," Serren laughed, leaning down and kissing Yuki softly.
"oh, Serren," Yuki exclaimed as he kissed her softly.
"Come on," Serren beamed, "we don’t want to be too late.”
The pair flew across the city to wind up at Lazzerlth and Fezzick’s home.
Several other Nite had already arrived, including Murrika, Tassel, and Getther.
Yuki spotted all of them easily, as Murrika was wearing copious amounts of jewelry. Tassel wore far less, but still, more than Yuki would normally wear. Getther wore an outfit similar to Serren. Getther wore a set of glimmering bracelets on his wrists rather than anything on his horns.
Murrika and Tassel wore silver dresses, each set with different gems here and there, woven within the fabric at key portions of their bodies. Their horns each had jewelry draped between them and their tails had several gold and silver rings.
Getther was the first to notice Yuki and Serren, “Ah! I didn’t know you knew Lazz and Fezz!”
Serren grinned and gave Getther a hug as they landed, “we got a last-minute invite thanks to Fezzick.”
Murrika laughed, “I bet Lazz was thrilled about that!”
Tassel waved to Yuki, “Wow, Yuki! You look amazing! Who made your dress?”
Yuki smirked, “Byrran, he’s the best tailor in all of Cairro!”
Serren frowned, “Yuki-”
“I’m not going to hide from Byrran,” Yuki said, “I think everyone should appreciate all of his traits.”
Tassel nodded, “yeah, he did great!”
“Yes, he did,” Yuki smiled to herself as the group walked inside.
Inside there were decorations of silver and gold all over the room. There was a large table of hors d'oeuvres which many Niten dragons were chatting around. There were several large animal heads mounted on the walls. Yuki noticed one was of a particularly fearsome-looking Bronzi.
Lazzerlth laughed as Murrika walked in, “Murrika! You made it, you stone-cold killer!” She walked to her and gave her a firm hug.
Murrika hugged back tighter, giving Lazzerlth a powerful squeeze herself, “what's wrong, Lazz? Did laying that egg take too much out of you?” Murrika teased as Lazzerlth winced.
The two seemed to be working to hug each other as tightly as possible before Lazz relented, “alright, alright!” she laughed, “come on in! Fezz is minding the egg.”
Lazzerlth turned to Serren, smiling, “Hey, you guys made it too! Welcome.” She looked at Yuki, “You’re getting quite the tour of our society, aren’t yah?”
Yuki laughed, “well that’s the idea, I really wanted to see how this ‘announcement party’ works.”
“Oh, no. I meant all the jewelry,” Lazzerlth laughed, chains which were draped between her own horns shifted and caught the light as she did so.
“Oh, yeah! Sorry,” Yuki blushed.
Lazzerlth looked Yuki over, “that’s a really nice dress! Who made it for you?”
“Byrran!” Yuki boasted, “He has a shop on the other side of town.”
Lazzerlth smiled, “I’ve heard of him! Our local tailor around here, Rakklin, studied under him! I’ve heard great things about Byrran.”
“Rakklin? Oh, I will have to go Rakklin for any other clothing, actually,” Yuki pointed out, “that’s what Byrran informed us.”
“Oh no! Is Byrran closing shop?” Lazzerlth frowned, “I know the old timer’s been at it for a while but… well, what else is there to do when you’re that old?”
“He could die,” Yuki thought to herself, but smiled, “No, he just didn’t want to make any other clothing for an angel. Which is fine. Rakklin’s been very kind to us.”
“Oh really?” Lazzerlth lifted an eyebrow to Yuki, “I’m surprised the old-timer feels that way. That’s a shame,” Lazzerlth shook her head. “Just so you know, Yuki, I don’t agree with his beliefs.”
“I’d hope not,” Yuki beamed.
“Anyone who can rough it for two weeks, and kill a Ripper? She's a badass angel in my book!” Lazzerlth gave Yuki a thumbs up. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to meet with some other guests. So why don’t you make yourselves at home!” Lazzerlth chirped to Yuki and Serren before she left the two and greeted more guests.
Serren sighed once Lazzerlth was out of earshot, “Well done, Yuki.”
“I thought so,” Yuki grinned.
Serren shook his head.
“Oh, Serren,” Yuki grinned, “it’s fine. Let's' find Fezz!”
Serren nodded, “yes, that sounds like a good idea.”
In the main living room was a small altar of sorts. Sitting there at the center was a nest made of silver and gold, but with soft and matted golden fabric inside.
Fezzik was chatting with a man in white robes.
The robes were etched with simple blue fabric and unlike the other Dragons, he wore very little jewelry on him. One of the few pieces he did wear was a silver chain around his neck. Attached to the chain was a set of three interlocking iron circles. In his brown claws was a book. His green eyes turned to Yuki and Serren in surprise.
“Ah,” the robed Nite grinned, “a child of our Guardian’s favored son, Lucifer!”
Yuki stopped, confused, “you know about Dei religion?”
Fezzick laughed, “Well, he is a priest.”
“Our religions are the same,” the priest said as he straightened himself up, approaching Yuki, his tail reaching out to her.
As Yuki offered her hand, his tail wrapped around it, she noticed the tip of his tail was cut off, with an iron end-cap replacing the tip, making it flat. “Is that an injury?” she asked.
“Ah, no,” the priest laughed, “part of our traditions is the removal of the tail tip. It symbolizes sacrificing a part of oneself to serve the Guardians.”
Yuki nodded, “that’s a pretty intense commitment.”
“Indeed, it is not to be taken lightly,” he smiled, “I’m Scribe Nezzel Hatkher, a pleasure to meet you, Child of Lucifer.”
“Yuki Karkade,” Yuki said, smiling.
“Karkade,” Scribe Nezzel thought, “a Dei title, yet you’re mates with this young Nite?”
“Serren Misho,” Serren smiled, walking to Scribe Nezzel, the pair’s tails intertwining, “yes she is, Scribe.”
Scribe Nezzel nodded, “Will you take her family name, as is Niten tradition, Serren Misho?”
Serren frowned, “Well, uhm…”
“We hadn’t discussed it, you know, since our circumstances are special,” Yuki explained.
Scribe Nezzel smiled at them, “that you are, extremely special.”
“Excited, Fezz?” Serren offered.
“Very, nervous about being a father,” he rested his hand on the small egg.
“I envy you,” Serren admitted.
Yuki frowned, “I wish I could have a child with Serren.”
Scribe Nezzel smiled broadly, “who says you cannot?”
“Biology,” Yuki laughed.
“It is prophesied that if a union between a Nite Dragon and a special Dei Angel were to ever occur, that the fruit of such a union could save all,” Scribe Nezzel smiled, “needless to say, I will be keeping you in my prayers.”
Yuki lifted an eyebrow at him, “uh, thank you?”
“No, Yuki,” Scribe Nezzel smiled at her in awe, his green eyes looking deep into hers, “Thank the Guardians.”
Scribe Nezzel clapped his hands, “if everyone can gather around!”
All of the party members soon joined in the living room, all taking seats in large folding chairs set up for all of them.
“We are happily gathered here today to witness the choice that the Honored Huntress Lazzerlth Tammila and esteemed Carrier Fezzick Tammila have made regarding the future of the newest addition to our community,” Scribe Nezzel announced happily. “The birth of new life into our beautiful world is a testament to the Guardian’s many forms, for now, this egg is but a spirit…” he placed his hand on the egg, “and soon this spirit will become a child…” he grinned to Fezzick, “and sooner than many will know, that child will be a parent. Thus embodying our Guardians of the Holy Spirit, Cherished Child, and Most Holy Father.”
Yuki sat back, enjoying the interpretation of faith. It was similar to Dei’s, outside the number of deities.
“And, like all things,” Scribe Nezzel motioned to the circle around his neck, “back to the spirit once more. As we are born, so we return, as it began.”
Lazzerlth soon joined the pair at the altar.
“So, we now join in the revelry of our most honored community members, as they tell us the future path their child shall walk, in the light of the Guardians,” Scribe Nezzel instructed.
Lazzerlth smiled at Fezzick, “you’re sure?”
Fezzick smiled, “yes.”
“Then, I hope our son will be as strong, noble,” Lazzerlth beamed, “and goofy as his father.”
There was laughter through the crowd.
Fezzick grinned, “I hope so too.”
The room erupted in clapping as the party seemed to kick into gear from there, with many drinks and much food being served before Fezzick carried the small egg and nest into another room, vanishing for the rest of the night.
Scribe Nezzel mingled through the crowd, finding Yuki once more, “did you enjoy the ceremony?”
“Yes, it was lovely,” Yuki smiled at him.
“Have you seen such a ceremony before?” Scribe Nezzel smiled down at her.
“I can’t say I have,” Yuki admitted, “birth’s a little… messier for Dei Angels.”
“Yes,” Scribe Nezzel agreed, “you carry your child with you until the time of birth. A very harrowing experience, from what I’ve read.”
“It’s…” Yuki thought back to giving birth to Geoffrey and sighed, missing him all the more, “intense, yes.”
“It clearly creates a strong bond between mother and child,” Scribe Nezzel placed his hand on Yuki’s shoulder, sensing her longing for her son, “I’m sorry for your pain.”
“I’m not used to so many people sensing how I feel,” Yuki admitted, blushing.
“There is no shame in loving one’s child or mourning their absence,” Scribe Nezzel agreed, “and though you may not be used to it yet, I’m sure you’ll see that the emotions of those around you will become indistinguishable from your own, over time.”
“Isn’t that a lack of individuality?” Yuki asked.
Scribe Nezzel gave Yuki a grin, “That is a very Dei concept, ‘individual liberty’. You’ll find the Niten Dragons focus far more on the community than the individual. But despite that, you do not cease being an individual just because you now also feel the emotions of your community.”
Yuki forced a smile, “I suppose.”
“Issues you’ll need to wrestle with if you intend to stay on Nite,” Scribe Nezzel explained.
Yuki’s smile faded, “What?”
Scribe Nezzel leaned down, “we Scribes are a bit more empathic than the average Nite, my dear. I can sense your desire to return to your son and it is a powerful force, indeed!” He beamed, “I know little can stop you from going to your son on Dei, but I would remind you that the love of your life, Serren, is here before you now. So whatever choice you make, it will break your heart one way or the other.”
Yuki sighed as she turned to spot Serren laughing with Lazzerlth.
Upon seeing her look at him, Serren gave her a warm glowing smile and lifted a glass of bubbly yellow liquor in a delicate flute glass.
Yuki smiled warmly back to him, feeling the joy and fun he was having. Had she ever had this much fun on Dei? She thought to herself.
“I don’t mean to make your decision harder,” Scribe Nezzel continued, “just trying to give you a fresh perspective.”
“Thank you,” Yuki said, as she turned to the Scribe, “but I know what I am going to do.”
Scribe Nezzel bowed slightly to Yuki, “then, Child of Lucifer, I bid you a safe journey.”
“Thank you,” Yuki answered nervously as she turned from him.
“I wish you the best of luck,” Scribe Nezzel warned, “be careful not to anger any Guardians.”
…
After an evening of drinking, eating, and celebrating, Yuki and Serren had returned home and promptly fell asleep.
Well, Serren had fallen asleep. Yuki, however, was still wide awake, her mind racing from the day’s events.
Yuki laid with Serren that evening, cuddled close to him in bed. She sighed heavily as she pressed against him.
Serren shifted slightly in bed, pulling Yuki closer to him possessively.
Yuki closed her eyes, doing her best to sleep. Her stomach was in knots about tomorrow’s plan.
Tomorrow her plan would go into action. Yuki just hoped that Briggett would make good on her promise.
…
The next day, Yuki held on tightly to Serren as they flew through the air.
“Why am I carrying you?” Serren forced a smile.
Yuki heaved a heavy sigh, “it’s how we met.”
“So you wanted it to be how we depart?” Serren sighed.
Yuki laid her head on his shoulder as Serren made the long trip through the air, flying to Metro Prime.
Serren had been prepared for the trip, as he suspected that Rezzolina might be looking for them to be using some form of public transportation.
Even so, after hours of gliding, Serren was exhausted by the time they arrived at the shuttle.
Serren landed and nearly collapsed as he did so.
“Oh, Serren!” Yuki cried, hugging him, “I told you to take a break if it was too much for you!”
Serren hugged her tightly, “I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t have done it if I couldn’t take it,” though in Serren’s mind, he was unsure if he could take it. He’d be paying for the strain he placed on his body later, that much he knew.
“Why put yourself through all of this pain?!” Yuki exclaimed as she felt a seed of doubt in her mind grow at that moment. “What if this is a mistake? What if I can’t get back to Nite?” she looked to Serren’s pained face. “I want to be with him forever… but why am I putting distance between us?”
Serren smiled up to her, “because I want to be a father.”
“Oh, Serren,” Yuki cried, tears leaking from her eyes.
“I am putting myself through this pain because I want to be a father,” Serren explained, smiling to her.
Yuki laughed, “Oh, Serren…” she whispered as she kissed him softly.
Serren now got to his feet and hugged Yuki tightly, “be safe, and bring your son to his new home,” he whispered, “come back to me my Yuki,” Serren said softly as tears ran down his cheeks and snout.
“I will,” Yuki smiled through her tears, hugging Serren tightly, “I promise, I will.”
With that, Serren reluctantly let go of Yuki as she ran towards the cargo bay.
Yuki typed in the access code that Briggett had provided her and with that, the doors opened.
Yuki did her best to quietly close the doors, and move through the dark cargo bay towards the crew quarters.
Briggett opened the door from the cargo area to the crew quarters, her eyes narrowed on Yuki. “I thought I felt you in here,” she looked around, “Come on, I have the cameras off and there’s only so much time before launch control starts to question why that is.”
Yuki nodded, “Were you able to get enough rations?.”
Briggett nodded, “I’ve got plenty, not to mention the food we’re transporting, but we shouldn’t need to dig into that. You’re not that big,” Briggett laughed.
“Good,” Yuki followed Briggett as she made her way through the crew quarters.
Yuki passed a series of beds, each with restraints to keep crew members in their sleeping positions throughout their rest in zero gravity.
Yuki smiled, having missed sleeping in zero gravity.
“In here,” Briggett opened a small door and motioned to a seat with a sturdy harness. “You’ve got no suit, just a heads up: if we depressurize you don’t have much of a chance to survive.”
Yuki rolled her eyes, “unless you’re wearing a suit the entire mission that’s a moot point. Besides, it’s not like we can get rescued in a timely manner if that happens: suit O2 would run out long before that.”
Briggett sighed heavily, “I hate that you’re right, but it’s still nice to think of it as a lifeline.”
Yuki felt Briggett’s concern, “sorry, I know this is a dangerous business but I always felt like keeping a realistic look was better than blind optimism.”
“Well, try to be a little more optimistic, okay?” Briggett sighed, “and don’t leave this room. There are no cameras in here, as normally there is no crew. So you’re going to be chilling out in here, alone, for several hours.”
Yuki gave a nod.
“I suggest you take a nap,” Briggett shook her head, “it’s going to be a long night.”
…
Almost twelve hours later Rezzolina stood in her command center, looking over multiple monitors as technicians spread throughout the room gave readings, and went over numbers.
“Chairwoman, the final metrics before launch,” an aide handed Rezzolina a digital tablet.
Rezzolina looked over the numbers, an eyebrow piqued, “Do we have an open channel to the captain?”
“Yes, Madam Chairwoman,” the aide said.
“Put her through,” Rezzolina ordered as she examined the information before her.
Briggett’s face soon flashed on a screen. She was strapped into a seat with two other female Nite, all wearing protective flight suits.
“Hey, Rezza!” Briggett greeted Rezzolina as the video screen appeared.
“Is everything in order over there?” Rezzolina asked.
“Yes, we are good to go,” Briggett grinned.
“Captain,” Rezzolina began, officially, “I see we’ve loaded the ship with more fuel than needed as well as additional rations… why is that?”
“Precaution,” Briggett reasoned.
“Oh?” Rezzolina asked, curiously.
“I had a bad feeling,” Briggett explained, “just wanted to be safe.”
Rezzolina gave another nod, “that is why you’re the captain.”
Briggett gave a thumbs up to Rezzolina. “Well, let's get this terrible experiment over with,” Rezzolina sighed, “At least we’ll get the final shipment of materials needed for Deepsight.”
The room was silent, hanging on Rezzolina’s next words.
“The launch preparations are underway, transferring launch authority to you, Captain,” Rezzolina announced.
“Thank you, Chairwoman,” Briggett smiled, “all systems nominal, preflight checks are completed, the launch is a go. Beginning countdown.”
While Briggett and the two other Nite were prepping the launch, Yuki finally saw a notification appear on a screen in front of her.
Yuki quickly checked her restraints and ensured her own flight suit was prepared. Luckily the tailor, Rakklin, was happy to fashion a new suit out of her ruined old one and Yuki had managed to salvage her old helmet from her bubble ship.
Yuki smiled, feeling the adrenaline rush as she saw the countdown shift from 1 minute down to 30 seconds.
Yuki prepared her breathing techniques for the inevitable g-forces of launch, her favorite part of space travel.
“T-minus 30 seconds,” Briggett announced.
Rezzolina stood watching the monitors, checking side monitors for any warning signs or error messages.
“T-Minus 10, 9, 8...” Briggett began her countdown.
Rezzolina crossed her hands behind her back, her tail wrapping around her leg nervously. Despite never having lost a ship, or suffered any kind of accident during a launch, it was always a concern for Rezzolina. Something always in the back of her mind.
“...2, 1!” Briggett announced as she promptly launched the ship.
Yuki found she was thrust into the back of her seat and, to her shock, found she was moving forward! Not the direction she expected!
“Exit Velocity fast approaching, ramp in five!” Briggett announced.
“RAMP?!” Yuki shouted to no one, only hearing the announcements from the ship’s PA system.
“Prepare for extreme G-force!” Briggett announced.
Rezzolina watched on a screen as the ship barrelled down a massive track, its speed increasing as magnetic rails propelled the ship faster and faster as it neared the end of the track, which had a ramp which shot upwards, eventually moving from a 180-degree angle to a 90-degree angle.
“Engine check, clear, point of no return in 10 seconds,” Briggett warned.
Rezzolina turned to a technician, “How is the engine?”
“Ready to fire,” the technician advised.
“5 seconds to the point of no return! Engines firing!” Briggett shouted into the radio.
Yuki felt another burst of speed thrusting her forward as the entire ship began to shake and shudder.
“Engines are engaged!” Briggett shouted, her breathing labored.
Rezzolina clenched her jaw and wrung her hands behind her back as the ship blasted up the massive ramp.
“Engine temps nominal, current speed at 60%,” Briggett announced, “Pushing the engines to full power!”
Yuki was doing her best to keep the air in her lungs, doing all of her launch breathing she had trained for. “Did she just say full power*?!”*
Rezzolina watched as the engines now blasted a massive plume of fire and smoke as it reached half-way up the large track. The bottom of the track had fallen away, allowing the plume to blast downward into a designated channel.
Briggett clenched her jaw as the ship shook and rattled as it left the track and blasted upwards into the air.
A technician near Rezzolina called out into her headset, which was broadcast to the entire room, “engine output nominal, trajectory stable. Shuttle ‘Goodwill’ has successfully launched!”
Rezzolina’s tail unwrapped from her leg and she finally let the breath she was holding in her chest out. “Thank Guardians,” she sighed in relief.
The room erupted in celebratory cheering and clapping.
“Be safe out there Shuttle ‘Goodwill’,” Rezzolina instructed.
Briggett kept her breathing firm and steady until, finally, the shuttle left the atmosphere. “That we will,” Briggett said happily, adrenaline still pumping through her veins as she unbuckled herself from the restraints.
“Launch engines cooling, interplanetary engines on warm-up cycle,” Islla, a black and green speckled scaled Niten woman, confirmed to Briggett. Her green eyes examined the console before her.
“Navigation systems online, plotting our slingshot around the moon,” a blue scaled Niten female, Tarrabetha announced.
Briggett walked to the communications console, “cutting coms to emergency contact only for diagnostic purposes. We’ll reach back once we’ve completed our slingshot.” With that Briggett flipped a switch which turned the communications panel red.
Islla frowned to Briggett, “Captain, why are we on the emergency only comms? Is something wrong with the array?”
“Diagnostics,” Briggett said, turning to Islla and Tarrabetha, “remember how I said we might have a guest?”
Tarrabetha smiled happily, “wait, the angel girl is here?”
“If she survived the launch,” Islla’s green eyes growing concerned.
“She’s a skilled pilot, I’m sure she can survive a simple launch,” Briggett said, rolling her eyes as she floated away from the cockpit and headed towards the back of the ship, where Yuki was tucked away in an emergency seating area.
Once Briggett got to the doorway, she unlocked it, opening it slowly, “Yuki? You alive?”
Yuki had already unstrapped herself and was smiling wide, “yes! Oh, that was amazing!”
“Good,” Briggett smiled, “Because Tarrabetha has so many questions for you about Dei angels,” Briggett rolled her eyes.
Yuki blushed, “I’m an open book.”
…
At the end of the day, Rezzolina finally found herself exhausted. “Why are they on emergency comms only?” Rezzolina asked a technician.
“Briggett willingly put the ship onto it once they went into orbit, she said she was doing so for diagnostic purposes,” a young technician informed Rezzolina, “I’ve been making sure everything is okay since. We’re just not going to see the live video feed or anything.”
Rezzolina nodded, “very well, if there is an issue with the ship make sure they stop at Deep Sight for repairs before their slingshot maneuver.”
“I will, Chairwoman Misho,” the technician smiled, “you should get home. We’ll call you if there’s an issue.”
Rezzolina nodded, “have a good night everyone. Thank you all for your hard work on the final mission.”
The crew bid Rezzolina a good evening as she flew back to her apartment. As she landed on the balcony and unlocked her door, she considered ordering in.
As she walked into her apartment and flicked on the lights, she was met with an odd sight of Serren snoring on her couch. “Serren?” Rezzolina asked as she walked over to him, “what are you doing?”
Serren continued to snore soundly on the couch.
Rezzolina narrowed her eyes and gave him a firm shove, knocking him to the ground.
“Ooof!” Serren grunted as he hit the floor, “ooh… I rolled off the couch.”
“Because I pushed you,” Rezzolina walked around the couch to where Serren was laying on the floor, “what are you doing here?”
“Resting,” Serren said, stating the obvious.
Rezzolina exhaled through her nostrils, exasperated. That’s when a thought struck her, “Serren, where is Yuki?”
“That depends,” Serren countered, “did the shuttle launch yet?”
“Serren!” Rezzolina roared, “Where is Yuki?!”
Serren groaned, “she’s… on the ship.”
Rezzolina inhaled through her nostrils, a low growl rumbling in her throat. “You’re in big trouble mister.”
“I know,” Serren forced a smile, tears leaking from his eyes as he did so, “but it’s what she wanted.”
“Oh,” Rezzolina sighed, kneeling next to Serren and cradling him in her arms, “Serren.”
…
Dei
Sorjoy stood in his office, a headset blinking on his head, “nothing from the terrorist yet?”
Palma’s voice rang in his ear from the earpiece, “not yet. I smell bullshit, personally. He gave it all up too easy. Bastard is protecting someone.”
“What about the other miner?” Sorjoy asked.
“Guy skipped the country with his payout, took it in cash, not a clue where he is,” Palma admitted.
“If you suspect this… what was his name?” Sorjoy asked.
“Jophiel Hinterland,” Palma answered.
“Right,” Sorjoy sighed, “if you suspect this Jophiel to be feeding you false information, don’t you think the other miner is likely involved in some way?”
“Could be,” Palma thought out loud, “or it could be someone else.”
“Such as?” Sorjoy asked.
“I don’t want to say who,” Palma informed, “but I have a feeling that we might have someone on the inside, working against us.”
Sorjoy looked out his window down to the city below, “have you been keeping tabs on the old bird, Trueman?”
“I have, not a whole lot of movement from him. There’s a small wedding for Hoffman he seemed interested in. Otherwise, he’s literally been staring at the diamond all night and day. To be honest,” Palma confessed, “it’s creepy. I thought he was dead a few times.”
“We should be so lucky,” Sorjoy said as his red phone began to ring. “What in Oblivion…?”
“Problem?” Palma asked.
“I’ll call you back,” Sorjoy said as he reached the phone. It was on its third ring, and upon reaching its fourth ring, he answered, removing his headset, “Sorjoy speaking.”
Gallor’s voice crackled over the line, “Mr. Sorjoy? Uh… yes, uh… there’s been a development,” he stuttered, four taps now loudly striking a desk could be audibly heard.
“A new development?” Sorjoy asked, his voice growing concerned.
“Y-yes... Uh… you see…” Gallor stuttered.
“Gallor,” Sorjoy spoke calmly, “settle yourself.”
“Sorry,” Gallor cleared his throat, “it’s just… Chairwoman Misho? She’s… livid. Personally, I can’t really blame her.”
“What has her so ruffled?” Sorjoy huffed.
“Well,” Gallor sighed heavily, four sets of four taps now struck his desk loudly, “Yuki Karkade? She stowed away onboard the final shuttle.”
Sorjoy felt the blood drain from his face and sat down, the pit of his stomach dropping, “oh.”
“Yes,” Gallor explained, “I know there’s a mountain of paperwork for us to complete and it’s completely inconvenienced everyone involved, including her new mate.”
Sorjoy ran his hand over his face and through his hair, “when will the shuttle arrive?” Sorjoy asked as he calmed himself.
“It’s at least three months from you, Mr. Sorjoy,” Gallor explained, “sadly the captain is already enroute and changing course now would mean a complete refueling of the shuttle and a scrub of the mission.”
“Then scrub the mission,” Sorjoy ordered.
“Mr. Sorjoy?” Rezzolina’s authoritative voice chimed in.
Sorjoy flinched, “Chairwoman, I-”
“While I understand that Mrs. Karkade has utterly agitated this entire situation, might I remind you, sir, that your return shipment is required for our own endeavors?” Rezzolina countered.
“Chairwoman if I may-” Sorjoy tried to interject.
“The materials we exchange are not done so without reason, we are counting on those materials to be delivered to our station for construction efforts,” Rezzolina stated.
“Yes, Chairwoman, I understand that, but-” Sorjoy was cut off once more.
“So, I will not be canceling an entire mission just because of one stowaway,” Rezzolina snapped, “now if you feel you truly do not want Mrs. Karkade to return, feel free to return her with the rest of your materials.”
“Madam Chairwoman, if I could just get a word in edgewise-” Sorjoy was cut off once more.
“However if you wish to keep her, with the rest of our excess, feel free as well, this is merely a courtesy call,” Rezzolina warned, “the ball, or in this case Mrs. Karkade, is in your court.”
“Madam Chairwoman aren’t you being a little harsh? Mr. Sorjoy may wish to-” Gallor’s words were cut off as the line went dead.
Sorjoy slammed the phone down on his desk and placed his head in his hands. “Karkade,” Sorjoy growled.
Sorjoy’s hands now ran through his hair. He tugged at it slightly, growling to himself.
With a sudden motion, he slammed his hands onto his desk and hurled everything off of it, glaring out the window, “Guardian Damn you Karkade!!”
After his outburst, Sorjoy stormed to his office door, slamming it open with such force that Cleo nearly jumped out of her seat. “Cleo!” Sorjoy barked.
“Yes, Mr. Sorjoy?!” Cleo gasped, shocked at his outburst.
“Get someone to clean up my office,” Sorjoy barked, moving to the elevator, “I’m going on a personal trip, where you are not needed.”
Cleo rolled her violet eyes, getting to her feet, her tablet under her arm as she hurried after him, “Sadly, Mr. Sorjoy, you pay me to be needed.”
“I do not need you for everything,” Sorjoy glared.
“And how are you going on your ‘personal trip’?” Cleo asked, “taking a cab?”
Sorjoy’s lip quivered as Cleo tapped on her tablet, a phone ringing through the speaker.
Sorjoy lifted an eyebrow as Naberious’s deep voice soon resonated from the tablet.
“This is Nab,” he said shortly.
“Naberious, it’s Cleopatra. Mr.Sorjoy requires transportation immediately,” Cleo ordered.
“Enroute in five,” Naberious said before the line went dead.
Sorjoy looked to Cleo as the elevator slowly descended the tower. His eyes lingered, for a moment, over her lovely form. She was incredibly beautiful, but her attitude, to him, was so very off-putting.
Yet Sorjoy’s mind raced as he tried to think of some way to avoid using Trueman’s suggested methodology.
Sorjoy had already contacted Palma about the enigmatic Mimi. She ran the entire escort business in Serph City and probably for the larger territory. If someone of his stature needed an escort, whether for the night or for the long term, she was the go-to for the rich, the famous, and the infamous alike.
He was unsure what Trueman and Mimi had in store for him and the longer he worked alongside the beautiful and intelligent Cleopatra, the more he found himself wondering if Trueman was right about the two of them being incompatible.
“I suppose I should thank you for your diligence,” Sorjoy said.
“You pay me for that diligence, sir. No need to thank me,” Cleo advised, tapping on her tablet, “but your praise is appreciated.”
Sorjoy looked at the floor numbers displayed inside the elevator, as they appeared to be moving especially slowly. “Perhaps, as a reward, I could invite you to a private dinner.”
Cleo stopped tapping, turning to Sorjoy, “Excuse me, sir?”
“I’m just saying, for going above and beyond, I should thank you,” Sorjoy turned to her, looking into her violet eyes.
Cleo looked back, giving him a suspicious look, “Sir, it’s highly inappropriate for me to accept a gift of such nature from you in exchange for my services.”
Sorjoy turned from her, “then maybe you can accept it not as a gift.”
“I don’t-” Cleo was cut off.
“I’m asking you out to dinner, privately,” Sorjoy said, “outside of work.”
Cleo inhaled sharply and was silent as her mind raced.
Sorjoy took a deep breath, “if you’re not-”
“Sir, that is not necessary, my pay is more than enough,” Cleo said as the doors opened.
“What?” Sorjoy asked, shocked. “Did she just reject me?”
Cleo took a step out of the elevator, remaining silent, “I’m not good for him. I’m too broken and he’d never accept me if he knew the truth. Palma would brag about having me first, and that alone would sour Sorjoy’s opinion of me. Not to mention I’m sure Palma would blab about me being an escort for Mimi,” she thought to herself.
Sorjoy frowned, “you can’t just turn me down like that!”
“Sir, I do not wish to discuss it further,” Cleo said, moving through the lobby, “your transportation is waiting.”
“Well, this is not going to be an awkward limo ride,” Sorjoy thought to himself sarcastically as he followed Cleo through the lobby. His eyes were drawn to her curvy rear and once he caught himself, he turned away from her. “Excellent. Now that she’s forbidden fruit, I just want her all the more.”
Cleo slipped into the limousine, moving as far as possible from Sorjoy’s normal seat and tapping on her tablet once more.
Sorjoy slid into the limo, unsure of how to handle the now increasingly awkward situation.
As Sorjoy slipped inside, a small envelope was waiting on the seat. Sorjoy looked to the envelope, and saw it had no postmark, only one name scribbled in barely legible letters on the front: “Ms. Walters.”
Cleo turned to Sorjoy after a few moments, “Sir, where are we heading?”
Sorjoy looked to Cleo, “Did you have an envelope on you, Cleo?”
“An envelope?” Cleo lifted a well-sculpted eyebrow, “no.”
Sorjoy flipped opened the envelope and pulled out a letter inside.
“Dear Cleopatra,
Your Employer has secrets he is hiding from you. If you wish to know these secrets, then please respond to us. Our leader Persphone will find you one way or another.
Sincerely Cerberus”
Sorjoy looked up to Cleopatra, “What is the meaning of this?”
Cleo’s face twisted into a confused and distressed grimace, “Mr. Sorjoy, you know more about whatever is in that letter than I do.”
Sorjoy handed Cleo the letter, “Explain this, Cleo.”
Cleo picked up the letter, and read it slowly, her eyes slowly grew wide as she looked up to Sorjoy. “Mr. Sorjoy, I swear I know nothing of this! Nor do I know anyone named Cerberus!”
“Oh? They seem interested in you,” Sorjoy accused.
“They may want to try to use me to get to you, but I promise you that I would never do so!” Cleo defended.
“So you would have told me about this letter if you had read it without my knowledge?” Sorjoy demanded.
Cleo narrowed her eyes on him, “Yes, sir, I would, as this letter is evidence of whatever this Cerberus is up to!”
Sorjoy reached out for the letter, “give it here.”
Cleo did so without resistance, “Sir, I promise you, I have no clue how or why such a letter would be addressed to me. I am telling you the Guardian honest truth.”
Sorjoy looked the letter over some more, giving Cleo the occasional sidelong glance.
Cleo shifted in her seat, now wondering if she should have accepted the dinner invitation just to build up more good graces with Sorjoy. Now she feared she would wind up losing her job because of a letter she had nothing to do with.
“Sir,” Cleo took a deep breath, her knuckles white while grabbing at her tablet, “Please believe me: I have nothing to do with this letter.”
Sorjoy folded the letter and slipped it into his blazer pocket, “we’ll see about that.”
Cleo turned from him, her brow furrowed in worry.
Sorjoy looked Cleo over, “I’m sure you have nothing to do with the letter. You’ve given me no reason to distrust you so far, Cleo.”
Cleo looked back to Sorjoy, “Mr. Sorjoy?”
Sorjoy turned from her, “I’ve trusted you with far more of my personal life than I give most of my close family, Cleo. If you were a threat to me, I would know,” he moved his eyes to Naberious in the driver’s seat. “Besides, at this point, I’d be lost without you.”
Cleo blinked in confusion, “Sir?”
Sorjoy spoke to Naberious, “We need to get going all the more.”
“And where, exactly, were we going?” Naberious asked.
Sorjoy gave a serious glare to Cleo, “Trueman Manor.”

Now that the Celtics have officially settled into the 14th pick for the second year in a row (thank you once again to a young western conference team overachieving) we find ourselves once again asking who the team should target. While the old adage of “best player available” should always apply, the Celtics’ roster construction denotes that they are at the forefront of where the NBA is heading as they employ lineups allowing them to switch 2 through 5. The thing they seem to be missing to achieve the end goal of an all wing sized lineup is a tall do-everything point guard. Luckily for the Celtics, two such candidates have presented themselves in this year’s indefinite draft class.
Despite the constant clamoring from fans to condense Boston’s youth into established stars, Danny Ainge has indicated a willingness to prioritize long-term roster construction with small safer bets that improve the team gradually as opposed to taking a home run swing at every star that is up for grabs. It’s doubtful things will be any different this year and I see Ainge making the most of the picks he has available by using them to pile up more rookie contracts rather than trading them. With that said, there’s ammunition for the Celtics’ FO to get frisky towards the middle of the draft and move around to get the guy they need. Two such prospects that I believe fit the mold of tall do-everything guards that will be in range with the Celtics’ draft capital are RJ Hampton and Killian Hayes.
Conceptual Fit:
Both guards possess near perfect measurables for what you’d like out of a modern PG that fits the mold of a Shai Gilgeous-Alexander type. Despite not sporting the monster 7’0” wingspan of SGA, both guys offer ideal size and length for a point guard with Hayes standing at 6’5” with a 6’8” wingspan and Hampton measuring out just one inch shorter in each category. Their near equal measurables serve as a reason for Boston’s pursuit of Medium-Ball? Wing-Ball? Whatever you want to call their future of the switchable all wing line-up, I think the measurables play a big part in that. However, either one of these players represent a huge shift in playstyle from the so called “little guys” we’ve grown accustomed to the past few years. Not only does their size change Boston’s team dynamic but each of their relative strengths indicate a fit for where Boston’s offensive hierarchy is going.
Soon, the responsibility of flying off Brad Stevens’ high screens into pull up threes will fall squarely on the shoulders of Jayson Tatum. The need to sure up the defense at the PG spot will take precedence over the water-bug type of PG that Brad Stevens has utilized every year. Boston won’t need a point guard that takes 20 shots per game that keeps the ball out of the hands of Tatum and Brown. While I don’t want to put a cap on either of these guys, if they were seen as potential number one scoring options on a title team, they’d both be mocked in the top 3. The reason they should interest the Celtics is that either one fits next to the Tatum-Brown combo perfectly and could one day fit with the tandem keas their main distributor and primary guard defender.
Hayes Strengths:
Diving into Hayes first, it’s not hard to key in on one of his many strengths but the first thing that jumps out is his passing vision and ability to find holes in a defense. Right out of the gate, he’s gonna have the footwork and craftiness required for an NBA guard as a rookie and have I mentioned HE’S ONLY 19?! But seriously, it’s rare to see guards with this kind of polish so early as he already seems to possess that intangible quality that I can only describe as: you feel better when the ball is in his hands because you know he’ll do something good with it. It’s like if someone boiled down Brad Wanamaker to a basic element, let’s call it Wanamakium, and then developed an antiserum that has the opposite effect of whatever you’re feeling when Brad Wanamaker is holding the basketball on a meaningful possession.
Hayes is in control at all times and seems to have the rare trait of being able to make or change a decision on a moments notice. One of his major knocks is that he can turn the ball over when he thinks too far ahead of his teammates but that should be remedied when playing next to more experience in the NBA. Paired with his craftiness and great balance, is his left-handedness which also adds a different dimension to his ability to dribble into tight spaces. With the polish and floor general nature Hayes possesses, you’d expect a major flaw like a broken jump shot to be the thing to keep him out of the top 5 but that honestly doesn’t seem to be the case. In his one season in the Euro Cup, Hayes had shooting splits of .455/.390/.909. Knowing that FT% is our best indicator of whether or not a player will continue to improve his shot at the NBA level, it really is a mystery to me why Hayes isn’t a consensus lock for the top 5 of this year’s draft class.
On top of that, Hayes is a solid on-ball defender. While he doesn’t have elite passing-lane instincts that you see in Hampton, his length and ability to stay in front of his man should be more than enough for the Celtics to work with. A lot of off-ball defensive ability as a product of scheme and knowledge of the opposition so that should come down to coaching and intelligence. Hayes isn’t hurting for the latter and in Boston they should be able to bolster his defensive capabilities with the measurables he has into a solid defensive point guard.
Hampton Strengths:
Like Hayes, Hampton has demonstrated the ballhandling and passing expertise you’d want out of your starting Point Guard but differs a bit in terms of his polish and raw athleticism. Whereas Hayes is constantly prodding and making decisions, Hampton seems to operate well as a player who makes one decision and blows through it with conviction. If a defender gets in front of him for a moment on one of his drives, Hampton doesn’t seem to be deterred and often gets by his man even if it takes him more than one quick blow-by from the perimeter. Though I wouldn’t describe his passing as flashy or two steps ahead the way I would with Hayes, Hampton clearly excels in a slash and kick role that we’ve seen a number of athletic guards have success in recently.
Offensively, the thing that sets him apart is his athleticism and finishing. The fit next to Brown and Tatum here would be huge as somebody with the capability to collapse a defense and kick out to open shooters. It’s his finishing that sets this up, however. Think of Gordon Hayward’s 2018-2019 season. His driving was there, his passing was there… his finishing was not. Because teams knew he wanted to kick out on his drives it made him extremely one-dimensional and turnover prone when he got downhill because teams knew he wasn’t a threat to finish over or around any semblance of interior defense. When looking at Hampton, there’s serious potential as someone who can cause problems in the paint that will draw the defense in and create open shots at the perimeter which is where the Celtics really want to be with the shooting they have.
Defensively, Hampton has high upside which makes him a safer pick. At worst, his instincts for passing lanes and quick hands means that he can be a demon defensively if he is utilized properly in his first few seasons. With his strength and off-ball instincts, Hampton is much more ready to guard the many talented point guards in today’s NBA than Hayes at least right now. His offense may have more of a way to go but I’m confident in saying that Hampton will be able to cause turnovers and impact winning on a Celtics team that values deflections so highly.
Hayes Weaknesses:
The thing deterring a lot of people from locking in Hayes as the best guard in this draft is his first step and right hand. He’s not going to overwhelm you with athleticism, but my counter argument is this: has any point guard other than Russell Westbrook made an All-NBA team whose athleticism is their standout trait? John Wall squeaked onto the third team one time, but the point is that it is safer to draft the proven polished prospect over the one that blows you away with athleticism. That said, for it being his major knock, I was impressed with Hayes’ footspeed when he really needs to turn it up in transition. To me, the knock on his athleticism has been overstated anyway as this lack of first step appears to be more of an unexpected tendency to stay patient and in control at a young age. As for learning to use his right hand, that will come. He’s already shown the ability to know where to go and when to attack using his left. It’s just a matter of time before he develops the dexterity to match his know-how we’ve seen already.
Another major knock is how ball dominant he is to the point that his shooting off the catch is a concern. My rebuttal would be that I can’t think of a good off the dribble shooter that didn’t figure out how to do the same thing off the catch with increased necessity. Once again, FT% is our safest metric for measuring if a player’s shooting will translate to the next level and in that facet, Hayes is elite. I hate to put all of my eggs in any one basket but I honestly think Hayes is the most sure thing in this draft and I don’t see a team that could derail the track he’s on other than the Knicks who should probably be afraid of French Point Guards now anyway. In an effort to figure out what I seem to be missing, I’ve looked for every injury report I can find on him but there’s nothing notable that would scare me away from him. The only reason for him not to go higher than he will is that teams aren’t impressed by his counting stats and are looking for somebody who plays the role of a volume scorer instead. If Hayes is available anywhere near the 14th pick, the Celtics must make whatever trades necessary to get him in green.
Hampton Weaknesses:
This is a much easier section to write than Hayes’ weaknesses but that just ensures Hampton will probably be there for the Celtics to pull the trigger on should they want him at 14. Offensively, his jump shot is not where you want it to be for a guard you’d take in the lottery. That sentence alone is going to scare a lot of Celtics fans as there’s only so much room alongside Romeo Langford in Boston’s jump shot rehabilitation center. I think it’s vital to note, however, that Boston has yet to be completely burned by an elite prospect whose main concern was shooting. Jaylen Brown was thought of as a non-shooter in the draft but now leads the NBA in spot-up points per game. Scouts were concerned about Tatum’s three- point shooting before his rookie season which seems laughable now. Hell, Marcus Smart owns the Celtic record for 3PM in a game which is borderline hilarious. Boston’s coaching staff can help Hampton and it’s one of the reasons I believe Boston to be the best place for him to land.
Alternatively, Hampton’s fire and confidence mean he’s not going to be afraid to take the shots that perhaps he shouldn’t be taking yet. He shoots far more often than Hayes despite percentages that tell you he shouldn’t. In his one year with the New Zealand Breakers he finished with ugly shooting splits of .407/.295/.679. Obviously, those splits across a season are enough to scare any team away from using their lottery pick on him but these totals are across only 15 games and roughly 300 minutes. Watching the games, it seems that Hampton was on a bit of a short leash in his time with the Breakers and felt it necessary to get shots up when he could as he only played 20 minutes per game. There aren’t any abhorrent flaws in his form or a Simmons-like fear of shooting for Hampton so there’s nothing that tells me these shooting splits in a 15- game sample size are going to keep him from being an effective NBA player. If shooting and efficiency are the reason a prospect like Hampton falls into the Celtics lap, they should feel lucky they’ve been able to prove they can fix these issues for young players in the last few years.
Availability:
Having kept an eye on 2020 mock drafts all year, only one thing seems certain among draft experts: nobody has any idea where anyone is getting drafted and there is no consensus top 1, top 5 or top 10 players in this year’s draft. So, here’s what we know: the potential for a top prospect to slip into the middle of the first round is higher than usual and the Celtics have the most darts to throw at the draft board. Killian Hayes in particular has seen a sharp climb up the boards from where he was mocked initially during the 2020 season but most have him landing anywhere from 5 to 12. Meanwhile Hampton has been straight up omitted from many mock drafts and the ones where he is included mock him right in the Celtics’ range from 14-20. I have a hard time believing that no team in the top 10 will fall in love with Hayes though. The Celtics should condense all three of their first-round draft picks if they can into moving up to grab a guy that seems like top 3 level talent at 19 years old. If things don’t shake out that way and the sure thing is off the board by the time the C’s can get a deal done however, Hampton will almost certainly be there at 14 barring some pre-draft hype bumping him up for his athleticism.
Conclusion:
The Celtics have a plethora of guards they should be looking at to fill out their wing-ball lineup to completion in this year’s draft but the two that are most intriguing are Killian Hayes and RJ Hampton. Hayes is the safe bet and who I’d pick if I had the first pick overall this year. The Celtics are gonna have to get creative if they want to pull in the least flawed prospect in the draft though. On the other hand, we see Hayes’ unpolished counterpart that plays with enough fire that I’d like to take a chance on him despite the concerns that go along with his shooting. Hampton may have work to do but neither of these incoming rookies are going to come in and take Kemba Walker’s job in their first season. Hampton has time to become the player he needs to be to fit next to Boston’s wing tandem when it’s time to seriously contend. All things considered, Boston fans can look forward to taking advantage of a very even draft class that could allow them to snag one of the best players around 14th.

This is a long one, get ready...
u/PoisonousKey - I love the swirly writing on the envelope! Frazzled Frannie is so cool. She looks like me during a scary movie when I go “Yup. Not scared. Not scared at all.” Definitely just saw a ghost. I love it!
u/lucilimon - I remember hearing the song at the end credits of wreck it ralph in the movie theater and feeling like I had just eaten 400 pounds of candy. It was such a dancy song! Looking it up and…. It’s when can I see you again. The cartoons are still my favorite end credits ever! They need more cool animated end credits rather than the old boring name, name, name name, blah blah. I love the candy train card. The train face looks unimpressed, like “These darn kids!” and the kids in the caboose like “Wheee!”
u/the0dior - Whoaaa stamp letters! That is so so cool! Thank you so much for the awesome girly stickers! I’m gonna use so many the upcoming mothers day, and for my grandma and aunt too. Tysm!
u/deskhuman - The envelope it came in was super cool! It reminded me of the fence at my old school with the little covering. The teacup card is so cute and so cool!!! I love swirly handles on teacups, and the old drawing on the cup is so awesome. I love your drawings by the pool and holding a donut. Mood! There can only be one family at the pool at a time, and there’s one family that’s always there so it’s rare that I get to go. Plus after months of hibernating, it feels naked to go out in a bathing suit. Happy (still?) Quarantinings!
u/SnailMailMom - This is such a cute postcard! I absolutely love your writing and the postcard is so so pretty! I received the Stationery Shops in Madrid one. It’s a big dream of mine to go to Spain. Maybe one day I’ll see them in person!
u/velocityoflove - I love the blacks and the gold on the Alice Ball postcard. They go so well together! I loooove your writing! The ant immunity joke was so funny. It’s definitely going in my mental book of jokes. Thank you so much!
u/htmljenn- Thank you for the wonderful duck postcard! The mallards are most common around here. Every year or two I find a little bit of poop at the bottom of the pool, and two sneaky little smirking quackers hiding behind the bushes. The haiku is wonderful! I was the kid in the pool that would always go “Watch me do a handstand!” and a flip, and whatever crazy thing. One time I went down to do a handstand and got up to a foot in my face by a distracted little lady.
u/tigerlady13 - Oooh I love the Tokyo postcard! Tokyo Tower reminds me so much of the Eiffel Tower. I stopped in the Tokyo airport for a few hours on my way back from India over winter break. I got so many flavors of Kitkats to share with my friends. On my way there I was surprised to see so many people wearing masks. Now it’s our normal, crazy right? Ty for the beautiful card!
u/OnlyCompletely - This is such a beautiful card! I love how the sparkles and colors highlight certain places of the image. The colors on the store give me a Christmassy vibe. We read Shakespeare in 7th grade. I wasn’t too into it at first, then the story sucked me in and wow.
u/talipally - I love the flower card! It’s just so sweet. Looks like his name would be Jay, and he sticks out of the ground smiling with his leaves out for a hug! I was surprised to see so much writing, and I loved it. I hope you received the card I sent back :) I didn’t want to write so much on a thank you post.
u/sassyliltart - Ooo this is an amazing card! I love all the shadows behind the pumpkins. I used to go to this farm for field trips at school to pick strawberries or take a pumpkin home. There was a pumpkin that looked like it had a smiley face on the butt, so I just had to take it with me! There was a little shop you could go to on the way to the bus. I sneaked over there during bathroom breaks and bought a bag of something macadamia nutty. It was my first time trying it and it was sooo good!
u/sassyliltart (x2) - Thank you for the baby postcard! My mom knows these are pranks now, but she always gives me a “no boys” lecture anyways. When I was younger they had to take out a part of the sidewalk and fill it back up. We got permission to put a hand and a foot on it to leave a mark. They had to take it out and fill it back in again a few years later, but I can still remember that weird feeling between my toes. Just a spontaneous story I got reminded of from the handprint stickers. Thank you for the card!!!
u/dailyandordinary - Thank you for the dog thank you card! There’s a lady at the pet store that always gives extra treats my Lucky in a bag with a bow. The “grrr” sticker is on my laptop, it reminds me of how nice the lady is (and not the growling it intends). Tysm!
u/RunLongandProsper - Thank you for the tree drawing! I love your writing, it reminds me of a wispy cloud. The rose drawing on the envelope is so prettyy!
u/C0wboySquirrel - Philly cards are so cool! I just noticed the human hair and human fingers in the ingredients, that’s a fun dish. I love your writing! One of my teachers are giving one bathroom pass a week, and if we don’t use it then we get extra credit. One kid was obviously holding it in and looked like he was about to blow any second. As soon as the teacher said “Class is over unless you have any questions,” he logged off. I’d like to think he angelically ran to the toilet like he was meeting his soulmate.
u/thealtoclef - Rainbows!!! When I found out you could make rainbows with a sprinkler pointed in the perfect position, I ran around it in circles dancing and slipped on the grass. It was magical, but my mom didn’t think so because she saw the mud on my dress and put her hands on her hips with an angry stare. When my mom read the postcard she looked at me and said “booger sugar? Sugar in your whaaat?” Don’t worry, she hasn’t found out about the toaster yet…
u/anneemo - My parents have always been against tattoos, saying “You’ll regret it later” and “What will happen when they see it at a job interview?” But a piercing? I haven’t even had my ears pierced (yet!). My friend sharpied a heart that said a random guys name inside and used her (amazing) makeup skills to make it look fresh and realistic. I came home overdramatically hiding it, which made it smudge a ton. Then my mom saw it and said “Your arm is dirty.” But prank ruined :(
u/mamagoat_23 - And a black car that matches your blackest soul <> Mulholland Drive <> Just another LA Devotee… Thank goodness we were let out of that car to the P!ATD concert ;) I love the Toledo, Ohio card! Thank you so much!
u/bluedecemberart - This is an absolutely ah-may-zang card! I’m not a handsome man but I love it so so so much! It’s so aesthetic and just so amazing. There’s so much on the card and I just love it!!! Thank you thank you thank you!
u/BKBD2017 - Woaaah so many stamps! I love state ones. The Colorado one is beautiful, I love the state flower. The envelope is so sparkly and cool! That specific blue, I don’t know the name, is such a cool color! I’m planning on painting the door wall that color. I love The Ugly Duckling Gets a Cookie. It’s so amazing and I have so many fond memories of the librarian reading the series to the class! Wow you were such a rebel oooh! I’m glad we don’t have rules like that here, but if we did then there’d be so many suspensions at my school… Thank you for the card!
u/_alltyedup - Thank you for the wonderful card! And hello!!! I love the fall prints! It still feels like summer because of the heat and not having school in person. I wonder how the people that already had online school felt about the weather while staying inside. In elementary we would love love love rainy days! We’d get snacks, word searches, crayons, and they’d play a movie! Bell!
u/amabisca - TYSM for the stamp card! It was such a cool idea! The actual stamp was an image of a soapberry. I never knew that was a thing until now! I really want to try it, but the “exotic” foods that are occasionally at the store is dragon fruit or guavas. That’s why I grow so many guavas here, they’re soo good!
u/pinkpolo - Wow!!! Pennsylvania sounds so amazing! We have this bay super close. I’ve hiked there a ton and did an environmental group project there. It was so fun. We made an elephant and rhino out of foil for the art portion of it, but we had to throw away the rhino because it looked a little… off. A big dream of mine is to have a beautiful garden with lots of flowers and fruits and vegetables. But I’m afraid of any flying, buzzing, stinging animal. Last time I was stung was third grade. Never again.
u/seroxxores - Awwe I love the penguin joke! And the bonus penguin drawing. Soooo cute! TYSM!
u/msmomona - Betsy Ross is so amazing and inspiring. I’ve always loved windows that looked like they were always open on the outside, and brick walls! Brick walls are so pretty! The white wall on the side of the house looks a little wacky, but so does everyones hair in my parents old photos. Thank you for the card!
u/Eggsy-B - Thank you for the card! The card cover looked sooo cool! I’m glad that you brought yourself and others up instead of tearing them down. School is weird socially right now because we can’t private message or talk during zooms (unless you sneak your phone). Never realized how much I’d miss the people I never talked to but silently snuck pencils back and forth when we forgot them.
u/Jennnnnnnnifer - We have a grocery store about a 15-minute walk from school with a ton of snacks. It was my half-birthday (we celebrated our friend’s half-birthdays since a lot of us had summer bdays like me) and I said “I could really go for some Skittles right now.” So my friend said “Bet.” He hopped on his bike and got Skittles in time for class. He didn’t in trouble because I ran up and opened the gate but he was so close to. We told the security guard he had to get something from a family member. Thank you for the Cars postcard! It looks so intense and I looove the colors!
u/ImOkReally - Such a bright and colorful envelope! It was the first one I picked up. The cat sticker on the front is soo cute! It’s an amazing card! I love getting cards that are shaped differently. A little break from the absolutely gorgeous rectangular postcards was super fun. Thank you for the stickers! The fox is on my computer :)
u/kittycurler - Oh noo the security guard caught you! If you got in trouble it would’ve been so bad! Thank you for the birthday card grandma!
u/mareepharos - Woah this is such a wacky and super awesome postcard!!! The cat is so cute, and I looove the colors! I never even thought about cats stretching. It reminds me of a cat doing a little dance, and the old Frisky commercials. I wish we had more commercials with partying cats.
u/mumdot - No way!!! Fossils just lying on the ground? The only “fossils” I’m able to find is the shell of a snail buried deep in the garden. The Canadian Badlands look so cool. So many funky structures!
And another thank you to everyone in RAOC!!!

1 | 2| 3 |4 | 5 | 7 | 8 (FINAL) |
Let me begin by following up on the aftermath of The Day Of Separation.
Everything happened extremely quickly; my Mom went out in a frenzy to search for Tristan, she didn’t even try to register what we said beyond “he’d been taken” and spared no time or expense in getting the wheels moving. The sheriff’s department, our county SAR and a public appeal on state-wide television all yielded absolutely nothing. But you knew that, as did we. If anything, it made it all the harder for us to sit by the sidelines and watch my Mom, who had already lost the only man she loved at a young age, now struggle to deal with the reality of losing her only son. She took sabbaticals from work, spent most of her time researching, calling anyone, putting grounded ideas on a drawing board until the grounded gave way to the fanciful, things beyond what actually happened. She steadily lost her grip with reality until the 3rd anniversary of his disappearance when she passed from a heart attack, Doctors called it broken heart syndrome. I think looking back, she found it too tough to deal with not seeing her boy reach his 21st, even if she had me.
During those years, I tried everything to help her and push the search forward, only ever speaking of what happened in muted tones and furtive conversations late at night with far too much wine in either of our systems. Mom never said she believed me, but she didn’t discount the ideas either. Instead, she sat there every time, wide eyed and patient, slurring her words of revenge on whoever stole her boy away from her. “If I ever catch the person or persons who took Tristan away from me… from us… I will make sure they never rest a day in their lives again. My sweet boy deserved better…” She’d slosh the wine across our couch as she wept, I’d put her to bed and cry myself to sleep, before pushing all the emotions down and returning to the role of the responsible Muldoon.
In the weeks and months after he first “went missing”, the gang went through changes of their own. Preston, perhaps feeling an obligation to stay and help because of his own brother, stayed close by for the first year and made sure we always had something to eat in the highly likely event we were too exhausted to cook. His boyfriend Zachary would always be on hand to help too, full of zest and the kind of dry wit you can’t teach a person. I adored the both of them. Eventually, Zachary got a job offer he couldn’t turn down across the country and asked Preston to join him, which he did. I tearfully watched them go at the airport the following fall and we promised to stay in touch, we didn’t.
Warren went on something of a rampage to begin with, picking fights with anyone and everyone over the smallest issues. He escalated to sticking his nose into disputes that didn’t need him, trying to get any reason for someone to hit him first so he could go to town on them. He said all he saw was Mathias’ and JJ’s faces when he swung, that it didn’t matter how many times he struck them, the rage didn’t go away. This would one day lead to a grievous bodily harm charge in the UK when he got involved in a dispute between a man and his girlfriend. The man slapped his partner so hard it drew blood, Warren clocked him with a clean left and another, then another and so on until the guy was barely moving on the floor, his girlfriend screaming to stop. He was sentenced to 4 and a half years, but was released after 2. When we talked, he seemed oddly at peace, though I wouldn’t truly see the change until he came over.
Millie was the outlier, I know very little about what she got up to. 6 weeks after the day of separation and a few frayed phone-calls, she turned 18 and said she was going to New York to get her bachelor’s degree, to continue her goal and become a mortician. She’d already had her acceptance letter, but was hoping to see how the summer with Tristan went and give a long distance relationship a shot, though she openly admitted they barely got beyond discussing feelings. She came over the day of her move, car packed up with all her things and asked to go into Tristan’s room one last time. Naturally, I obliged and let her in, his room preserved the exact same way we left it; video games stacked on his desk with a laptop perched on a small mini unit, a slew of sticky notes for advice on how to make the blog better and market it efficiently. He truly believed we would be famous one day. Millie sat on the edge of his bed, a sweater of his draped over the gaming chair that she picked up and held in her hands. Even though Tristan was my twin, I knew she was hurting in a way I could never understand. She wept into it, the familiar smell ripping open the wound and letting all the pain out. I told her to keep the sweater and to call once in a while. She promised to call every year on our birthday, but her waving from her Sedan was the last I’d ever see of her.
Not long after the first entry went up, I received an email from Mathias that sent shivers down my spine, especially as I thought I was the only one who’d stayed in the town;
To: Lying bitch
From: Your one and only.
Subject: I guess it’s almost time
“Fay,
I had hoped you’d resurface one day. Folks around town said they’ve not seen you in years! I always kept my distance, mind you. But I knew you were getting on okay and that I’d eventually get my chance to swoop in and comfort you. Only… that never happened. You refused all visitors, drank yourself into oblivion and sold your “tortured art” to make ends meet. You took what could’ve been a beautiful life between us and you wasted it. We’re nearly 30 now, Fay. Nobody is going to want a washed up spinster who can’t even have kids. They say your eggs are largely gone by this point… doesn’t that bother you? Doesn’t it concern you that the ONLY man you’ve ever pined for in your life is your DEAD BROTHER? Women are meant to be more than this… I at least learned that much from Callista.
I get that you’ve never much cared for physical interaction, but I think I could change your mind if you’d just look past my indiscretions and let me in. Besides, that was what was promised to me all those years ago and I fully intend to collect what I’m owed one way or another.
Maybe it doesn’t matter if you don’t oblige, maybe it’ll never happen in your lifetime. But some things transcend the world we live in and maybe this is just one of those times, Fay.
The sages are coming to visit, the moment the borders are open again I KNOW they will. That’s fine, I welcome it. WE welcome it. The job was never done. You didn’t tell JJ or Ernesto what happened at Mantis Reach and I sure as hell wasn’t about to, not without the whole “gang” there to admit their guilt. Luckily, I know you well enough. All of you will want to end this and I couldn’t agree more. So, here’s the footage, do your review and when it’s over… come find me.
You know where we’ll be.
I love you. You make my skin bubble and feel hot to the touch in a world where everything is pins and needles.
Mathias.”
I don’t need to tell you why it makes me more uncomfortable than anything else in so many years. But the timing could not be ignored. Attached was a .mov file I had never thought would still be intact, but with Mathias being the technical expert he is, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. I saved the email and began making contact with the group. First with Preston, then Warren and finally Millie, resolving we’d meet back here where it all began when the time was right.
They flew in on Friday and the first thing we did when we got to the basement was play the file Mathias sent;
“The Fall Of Mantis Reach.Mov”
The first thing that struck me about the group as we traversed back to my home was that age-old adage; The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I don’t know if the alcohol-filled nights and lack of change in my routine had not aged me much, but save for a few inches in height growth and a pixie haircut to my still-dyed red hair, I hadn’t changed all that much. Sure, I had a few more stylistic changes to my wardrobe and a scaffold piercing, but that was about it. “You literally look like you’ve had a minor wardrobe change, and that’s it. How the hell is that possible after 10 years?!” Preston exclaimed with tears in his eyes. He was taller, slightly leaner and with a bit more muscle to his frame, but happily still a larger man. He wore custom sweaters he’d print under his own clothing line “P & Z Streetwear”. This one was a demonic Gengar devouring Ash Ketchum, mini Haunters ladened across the sleeves.
“I guess I just got lucky. Meanwhile, you look fresh to death!” I replied, beaming at him as he chuckled and combed his afro.
“Well, I still think I’m pretty sensitive, but Zachary definitely imbued me with confidence! He sends his apologies, he couldn’t be with us, he wanted to come but… Sages only, right?” He gave a weak grin and patted me on the shoulder before heading downstairs, laughing as I repeated my brother’s cheesy line; “mmm… you may pass!”
Warren, to his credit, didn’t look as old as I’d imagined he’d be post-prison. His mohawk now a slicked back undercut and a thick black beard, sporting a business casual attire and a black metal band tee underneath that he flashed us with a quick grin.
“Didn’t want you thinking I’d gone all corporate.” He smiled, pulling me in for a one-armed hug, his more defined frame shocking me at first as he whispered, “I’m sorry it’s been so long, Fay. We’ll figure this out, no matter what. I fuckin’ promise you.” Before stroking my hair for a moment and heading downstairs.
Lastly, there was Millie. Even more beautiful than I remembered, she sported an all black attire and was clad in a Neo-goth outfit from the multi-clasped platform boots up to her choker that ended in the same lucky cat’s paw. Her face filled with piercings from the septum to her stretched ears, which prompted me to tap my own as she flashed a small smile. Before we even said anything, she hugged me tight, an unexpected bit of affection from someone we’d always known to be incredibly distant.
“I wish I’d been in touch. But the longer it went and the closer I got to that day, I just… I…” her voice breaking, the shame bubbling over. I soothed her and pulled away, smiling.
“What matters is you’re here now and come rain or shine, we’re gonna finish this, right?” I beamed at her and she nodded affirmatively, clutching at her choker.
“10 years is long enough, let’s do this.”
The basement was much like Tristan’s room; frozen in time. We’d decided early on to not change anything, in case we ever elected to go back and finish things. Though, I imagine most of us were too broken and terrified to ever do so back then. The same amount of chairs positioned themselves across the room and we could see small bloodstains where Mathias had once sat, crumbs in Prestons area and a distinct groove from how Warren fidgeted in his. Without saying anything, we moved our seats around and left Tristans directly in the middle where it belonged, turning Mathias’ to face the wall. It may sound silly, but it was symbolic. He was gone to us.
As we set up the Apple TV to cast the file to, we began catching up on what we’d lost.
Fay: So, what’s the biggest changes for you guys? I mean, a decade is a hell of a long time… though the last few months definitely felt like a lifetime in of itself.
Preston: I hear ya. We were lucky to operate our business from home, but not everyone was so fortunate. I guess the biggest thing for me is Zack & I’s wedding, we’re aiming for 2021 and of course we’d like you all there.
Fay: That’s… that’s wonderful! Of course we will be, I bet you’ve got a hell of a caterer, right?
Warren: Well, mine’ll kinda shock you guys… but I have a little boy.
He was right; it did. Warren had never shown much interest in anyone and didn’t seem the type to let anyone close, but the way he smiled and the love in his eyes in that moment suggested otherwise.
Millie: No shit… how old? What’s his name? Is he anywhere near as loud as you?
Warren laughed, heartily in fact. The insecurity he had as a teenager clearly long gone. He pulled out his phone and showed us a smiling boy, gap toothed and holding up a drawing of his family, including Warren and his partner.
Warren: He’s 3 and his name… is Frankie. After my little brother. Damn talkative and I gotta watch what I say around him now, or Zara will have my head. But, I love him, love my family. They saved me.
He looks so fulfilled, I couldn’t help but feel overjoyed.
Millie: Well, in my case, I became the mortician I’d always said I’d be. Got *really* good at it, in fact. I teach other students while I foster animals in my spare time. I know, I know. Lucky cat’s paw and dead things are still fun, but there’s something… wonderful about helping them find love again, y’know? It’s… part of why I wanted to come back here. To put this to rest, both what happened and who we were back then.
There was a murmuring of agreement before the video flashed up and a preview of the file greeted us. It was a shot of the whole group standing in front of a large wooded building, me and Tristan pulling the fusion dance from DragonBall Z, Warren fake punching Preston as he holds up his hands, Millie smiling while looking over at Tristan and Mathias staring at the kid near the centre of the photo, squatting down with his hands clasped, wiry brown hair protruding from beneath a red trucker hat;
Dallas “Livewire” Mendoza.
This was the night it happened.
00:01 - The camera turns on as the group is seen hiking up the trail and joking to themselves. The camera zooms in and out dramatically on Warren as he makes huge strides up the trail as a younger me laughs from behind the camera.
“Ohh look at our Super Saiyan as he leads the way to our glorious hideout!” I declared, putting on my most announcer-like voice. Warren grinned and pulled Preston in for a headlock, who immediately tapped as Millie laughed.
“You guys are such dorks, what are we discussing in the hideout today?” Millie called out as the camera pans over to her, brushing her hair out of her face. Livewire could be seen at the top of the hill, fumbling with the keys to get in the main door.
“Matters of the utmost importance, my good lady.” Livewire replied in his most regal voice, much to our delight. The brass key turned in the lock with a deft clunk and the steel door creaked open as our younger selves sauntered inside, giddy that we’d reached a place where we could be ourselves.
Preston: Man, it’s kinda crazy to think that this was 15 years ago, and it still looks fresh even now. Technology is insane. Warren: You’re telling me, was I always that fuckin’ small?Millie & Fay: Always. Fay: And loud, don’t forget loud.
Warren: Alright, alright. You got me there, but man… doesn’t the old place give you the willies?Preston: No… but seeing LiveWire does.
00:05 - We watched as the camera followed the group inside. The structure was imposing, warped and downright bizarre. Situated over three floors, the building had been left to the annuls of time after Mantis Reach was declared an unsafe commodity by the local councils back in the mid-80s. Restoration and housing was a big part of the governmental promise and I suppose they felt the need to foreclose any unsightliness or ugliness that the town perceived to have. So, much like lancing a boil, Mantis Reach was cut off from the world and hidden away so the tourists didn’t see it.
Now, one of the last derelict buildings stood there, a monolithic skeleton of mortar, cast iron and steel. The inside re-arranged and suited to our comfort, but still very much a reminder of the age old rule the town had; if it’s unsightly, store it away. We felt a kinship with the place and when the world turned its back on us; we sank away into the guts of this beast.
There was a cut on the feed and it skipped ahead some time later when we were all sat around what we called “The Green Room”, several old velvet couches and some make-up tables lined the dusty room, the wood-rotted floorboards threatening to give way at any moment. Mathias sat in an old wicker chair, rocking back and forth, pretending he was a prospector and fake-spitting at the end of every sentence, the group delighting in the spectacle.
“Y’know, I heard a legend about this place…” Livewire spoke up, sat across both armrests of an oxblood recliner. “Supposedly, this was all shut down due to an issue with the manager. Dude went crazy and broke protocol, shot his entire staff before turning the gun on himself. They said the building was totally unusable after that, that it was straight up haunted.” He snorted, back flipping off the chair and calling out in his most melodic voice “bullshit”.
“I mean, there’s one way we could find out. None of us have ever stayed the night here.” Mathias remarked, rocking back gently and waxing poetically. "Legend has it that if a soul spends a hallowed eve here, they'll never be the same. But you..." He points a shaky finger at Livewire for dramatic effect. "You have that live spark that could manage it!"
The group chuckles as Livewire scratches the back of his head, uncertain.
"I dunno guys, I get distracted easily and this place isn't exactly "safe" y'know? How do we know it'll be okay?"
We chanted his name, clapping and stomping as he began nodding and moving to the beat, psyching himself up.
"C'mon Dallas, you're the fearless one! You can do ANYTHING!" Preston said, genuine admiration in his voice.
"Hell yeah, I bet you could climb the ladder at the top of the building and hang your shoes over the powerlines!" Warren cried, pumping his fist in the air. "THAT'S top tier shit right there.
Younger me turned to Tristan as they're discussing the feat, a tinge of nervousness in my voice.
"Do you think that's safe? I mean, obviously it's NOT, but you know what I mean."
"Dude, the power to this building has been dead for a long time, that's why we have that big ass generator Mathias got us. The power lines definitely don't run anymore. You can do it man!"
The camera cuts to Millie, leaning against the wall and shaking her head, she looks uncomfortable but doesn't protest.
"Hm... Well, fuck it! Been a while since we did anything crazy and maybe this'd get me worked up to stay the night!" he rolled forward and jumped up, hair flopping as we clapped. "Call it marking my territory!"
Millie: I hated everything about this, still do.
Preston: Why didn't you say anything at the time? We'd have listened.
Millie: C'mon, group mentality combined with his infectious personality and daredevil mentality? I'd have just been bringing everyone down.
Warren: I get that, you didn't feel comfortable. But it sounds like you thought you didn't fit in with us.
Millie: Because at that point, I didn't. A misfit amongst the misfits. A fuckup beyond fuckups. It's not like I was proud of it, but...
Fay: I get it, you didn't wanna make waves or let your guard down too much, even at this point. I'm sorry.
She shrugged and didn't take her eyes off the screen.
Millie: Yeah, me too. Believe me.
00:30 - The camera is panned upwards towards the second floor, a makeshift bedroom we'd used for naps that housed little more than a faded mattress and a mirrored closet we kept snacks in. By the upper landing, there was a small metallic ladder leading some 15ft up onto the roof where the power-lines hung overhead. The rest of the group stood outside as Fay got an establishing shot before hurriedly running outside to join them.
The sky was clear, but the air was thick and the summer heat was bearing down on us. Some clouds lurking in the distance, far away from the cliff and bearing no real threat. At the time, the worst we thought may happen is sheer heat exhaustion.
But as Livewire climbed up and hooked his leg underneath one of the last steps as a safety measure while he threw his shoes over the line, the following moments would betray that.
We knew Livewire was easily swayed by others and that his daredevil attitude came as a habit of wanting to impress even when he didn't need to, we'd done it many times before without major incident. But he often took things too far of his own accord, emboldened by the excitement and cheers.
In this case, when he successfully got his shoes over the power-lines and we erupted with cheers, he decided to go a step further.
He pulled on the wires to prove they weren't active.
There was a spark, his body tensed up and smoke erupted from his body and for whatever reason, maybe even shock, I kept my camera unflinchingly on him as he sizzled and gurgled while our younger selves screamed.
After a few seconds, his body fell limp and we watched in horror as the once steadfast leg locked into the bar slipped out and he plummeted to the floor below, the sickening thud sending shockwaves through us and making us rush to him as the camera blurs and cuts out.
Millie: Even now, that's horrifying to look back on, the sound of his shock and even the smell of his body...
Warren: Makes me wanna dry heave, but not as much as what we did after seeing him like that.
Preston: Yeah, I'm not sure I wanna see it again.
Fay: I know, but we're going to.
Millie: We need to.
Preston: Yeah, we have to...
00:45 - The camera cuts to feet dashing through the trail as frantic voices call out to one another. Thunder and lightning can be heard rolling in as they get further and further away.
“Fuck… FUCK! WHY DID WE LEAVE HIM?!” Warren was bent over, dry heaving and punching his head.
“Because he was fucking DEAD, Warren. We’ve got to focus on what we do now. How we cover this up.” Mathias looked back at the house and Fay zoomed in on him through shaky hands. He looked resolved, distant.
“Cov- Cover it up? We have to fucking TELL someone!” Millie was shaking, pulling at the ends of her sleeves nervously, looking around at the group as they looked away, shamefully. “… Right?”
There was a pause, Warren speaking first.
“I already fucked up once, it cost me everything. I can’t fuck up again, guys. I can't do that to my mom... I'm all she has.” He clenched his fists and looked down, rain falling and causing his mohawk to flatten. “Do whatever you have to, I’m out.”
He walked off, Preston a few feet behind him, tears in his eyes and shaking his head.“I know we did wrong, but I have a good future… I can’t let this get in the way. If he's gone, he's gone.” He sighed. “I hate myself for saying that, but what else can we do?”
Millie stood there, indignant. “Tell the truth. We can tell the fucking truth!”
“That would cause more harm than good, Millie. We’d ALL go down for it and I don’t think any of us can handle that.” Fay called from behind the camera, fear breaking her voice as she spoke. “We were never meant to be here, what happened to him was our fault. If we tell someone, it could so easily come back on us. None of us were supposed to be out, we knew he had a propensity to go too far and we pushed him… fuck…” Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed heavily, Fay putting out a hand to comfort him, but Millie getting there first and hugging him tight, whispering something to him. She lingered for a moment on the shot of the two of them before putting the camera down to her feet as they walked away, cutting to black.
Millie: All that anger didn’t do much in the end, did it? Mathias was right, we were cowards and we deserve some kind of justice.
Warren: Maybe, but we were just kids. What were we supposed to do? The guy was dead.
Fay: No, he wasn’t.
I took a deep breath and tried to put my mind in a safer place, remembering better times, fun birthdays and meaningful songs.
I was about to see him again.
01:55 - The camera switches on, it’s the dead of night and Tristan trudges up the hill, panting and seemingly anxious. The moon hangs high overhead, a singular luminous eye following his trajectory and I swear I can see ripples around it, as if something is stirring in the infinite void, black clouds could be seen in the distance. Like it knows why he’s come back.
He stops short of going through the large steel door, letting the camera linger while catching his breath.
“I know this is stupid, I know everything about what I’m going to do is stupid. Breaking in, filming… what happens next, but…”
He turns the camera towards his face, a far more youthful Tristan staring back as my stomach contacts and I feel a sharp pang rip through my heart.
My baby brother.
“I can’t do this. I need to know if… if he’s… and if he is, I need to do the right thing. Then, I’ll take the tape to the Sheriffs county, or leak it online or… or… I don’t know, I just need to make sure that if someone has to pay for this… it’s me.” He pauses again, eyes welling up with tears before he tries to crack a smile. “Who knows? Maybe ol’ Livewire is pulling a prank, and he’s totally fine, ready to punk me. Maybe it’s not so bad and we can laugh this off when he’s better!” This last pause has his lips trembling, breathing heavily and holding back sobs as he swallows. “But if he’s as bad as I think he is, if it’s beyond help… I’ll make sure the right thing is done. For him. For us.”
He wipes his eyes and sniffs deep, shaking his head slightly before nodding and turning the camera back to the door, the key clunking in the old lock before giving way as he gingerly opens it, careful not to make too much noise.
The camera points down, but we know where he’s going, what he’s seeing.
A charred spot from so many days prior, the entire building shrouded in darkness. What was once our safe haven now just an imposing structure with lingering death. Dried blood caking the rotted wood and fell through the cracks to the floor below. The floor lined with scratches in the floorboards where someone had dug their nails in, dragging themselves desperately to safety, food or maybe even help. He followed it to the adjacent room, and the camera shook for a moment, lingering on the imposing frame leading to where Livewire lay.
The camera panned up, and we saw the charred, still living remains of Dallas “Livewire” Mendoza. His flesh charred in places and his body frail, malnourished and sickly. If he noticed Tristan coming in, he didn’t show it. Breathing softly, the exhalation like that of rusty bellows, Tristan put the camera on the floor beside him as he knelt at Livewire’s side, sobbing.
Millie: So he wasn’t lying… Oh, Tristan… Why?
Warren: He felt the same thing we all did, that immense guilt that we did something wrong. Amplified by the idea that maybe he was okay, just needed some extra help, but…
Preston: But he didn’t account on how bad it was. Fuck, why did he do this on his own?
Fay: Because he wanted to protect us all, he felt it was his words that sealed Livewires fate and so it was his responsibility to go back. I had tears in my eyes as we watched the footage, my twin and better half a broken boy trying to do what was right. This dismal room letting in no light, a small makeshift bed of discarded clothes and magazines we’d read on kinder days now propping up only part of Livewire’s body, a disused wardrobe with a filthy mirror covered in large smudges laying in the corner. This was where Livewire had spent the last few days of his life, and the crippling loneliness of that moment crushed me entirely.
Warren: Well, we know what happens next. Should I turn it off? He got up to reach for the remote and pause, but I put a gentle hand on his, shaking my head.
Fay: We watch it in full, we owe it to Tristan…and to Dallas.The group nodded solemnly and we continued watching, all of us sat forward with our hands ringing together.
There was only one thing left.
02:00 - After some time, Tristan slung the backpack he’d been carrying off of his back and pulled out a couple of items; a prized copy of smash bros. melee that he & Livewire had spent countless hours beating each other senseless on, a pair of coins, a photo we’d taken of the group some weeks prior…
And a pillow.
Placing all the items by his side, tears still running down his face, Tristan grabbed the pillow and looked into Livewires face one last time. The shallow, pained breathing unchanged.
“I’m so, so sorry, Dallas.” He whispered, before pushing the pillow onto his face.
There are few things we have witnessed in this world that match the sheer horror of watching a friend, a loved one, a sibling commit murder, even if it’s a mercy killing. Tristan never stopped weeping, he didn’t lose focus or become violent, but he held his grip tight as the already weak struggles from Dallas grew weaker as the seconds dragged into minutes.
But it was what we saw in the mirror that cemented our fear, steeled our resolve, and brought our anger to fresh heights.
That huge, unsightly smudge in the mirror was not a smudge.
It was a person, holding themselves up in the door frame behind Tristan and gleefully swinging like a child at the park.
It was Mathias. A deranged, younger, joyful Mathias stood over one of his best friends and, like the most depraved peeping tom, leered at the sight of the murder. His hair normally pinned back in a neat bun, now wild and greasy, covering his face and painting a far less composed individual. He simply swung in place as Tristan held the pillow down long after Dallas stopped moving before leaning over his friend and sobbing harder, apologising profusely. After a few moments, he placed the coins on his eyes, put the pendant over his neck and laid the game on his chest.
He was giving him a proper burial.
Millie: How in the fuck did Mathias know all this and NEVER say anything? Didn’t he say he felt guilty before?
Fay: Yeah, his desire to put this all into motion was because he felt we deserved to be punished for what happened to livewi- to Dallas, that our lies had consumed us and what we did warranted justice.
Warren: How that creepy fuck got away with it is beyond me though, wouldn’t Tristan have noticed him there?
Preston shook in his seat and when we turned to him, we saw that same fear he’d shown during his own show “Name That Anomaly”.
Preston: It’s just like last time, this isn’t real.
His hands shook, and he pointed before adding;
“Watch”.
02:05 - Once Tristan had finished, the form of Mathias silently let his body drop to the floor before standing up and tiptoeing across the room and towards Tristan. His hands raised and fingers gnarled into claws, he looked ready to pull at any appendage Tristan had within his reach. But, just as he reached out, Tristan moved and picked up the camera to leave.
When he turned it back towards the doorway, there was nothing there.
I couldn’t tell you if Tristan had sensed something or if it was just timing, but he sighed for a moment before putting his backpack on and preparing to leave the building. As he did, the sounds of thunder and lightning could be heard overhead. He muttered a curse before the thunder clap scared him enough to drop the camera. We get a shot of him stumbling back and staring up at something as the lightning strikes and the whole building is illuminated.
On every wall, every piece of furniture and every previously unseen speck of wood was writing. Red writing.
“YOUR TURN.” lined the walls over and over.
A spark had been set and the red glow of the fire rose up in front of Tristan and across the stairs rapidly, the rotting wood providing excellent kindling for the hungry blaze to consume.
Dumbstruck, Tristan reached for the camera before seeing the blaze rip through the foundations and running for the door, most likely cutting his losses that the footage would be gone.
This was the night our hideout burned down and many of us, though terrified and still guilt-ridden, breathed a sigh of relief.
The shot lingered on the door as he ran out; the image flickering as the flames drew closer before the camera was raised from the floor and picked up, zooming in on Tristan as he ran away.
“Run away from your guilt, wallow in your shame, our time will come, they’ll know our name.” The voice cooed.
The camera switched to the scorched face of JJ as his flesh melted, the beams dropping from the ceiling and crashing into the wood, the red signs declaring “YOUR TURN” beginning to glow, almost throbbing in the light.
“Here’s the beginning, now we have the end. Mantis Reach. Tonight.”
His smile grew as teeth blackened, fell out and black blood flowed down his face, filling his mouth as images of the older footage inter spliced rapidly, the fires consuming his face as images of all of us laughing together played.
A young Millie showing off her lucky cat’s paw, brand new and accompanying a box of dead animals she was studying, much to the group’s disgust.
His smile stayed wide, the lips peeling.
Preston bringing foods he’d baked with his mom, Tristan nudging Fay and whispering something before the both of them warmly smiled and nodded.
His eyes sank into their sockets, the white flesh bubbling and melting, running down his face.
Warren, head banging to a record and flailing like a madman as we clapped, laughed and eventually joined in.
His hair singed, falling out in clumps as the scalp reddened and split. Something behind him stirs in the smoke.
Tristan and Fay imitating the fusion dance and operating as a multi-limbed being, speaking in unison and heartily laughing.
The figure behind him moves closer, awkwardly dragging its limbs in and out of focus.
Mathias hooking up a projector so the gang could play Mario Kart together, the whole group thanking him and patting his back. He looked genuinely overwhelmed.
The corpse of Dallas moved into view and stood beside JJ as the two continued to melt.
The final image being that of Dallas and Mathias standing shoulder to shoulder in the archived footage alongside Dallas & JJ’s fetid corpses, a pair of raspy voices echoing as the camera footage grew twisted and corrupted before shutting off.
“Upon Mantis Reach, you will look Beneath The Static. One last time.”
We sat in silence for a long time, no dramatic vomit, screaming or shouting. Just deafening silence as we processed it in our own way. Maybe we were just desensitised after so long and seeing so much, I don’t know. But the calm was unnerving for us all. We were hoping for some kind of large, Earth shattering revelation.
But instead, we simply had our guilt laid bare as well as confirming what I think we all knew; Tristan took the ultimate sacrifice for us.
Warren: Well, I guess we know what we have to do next, right?
He stood up, stretched and sighed, hunching his shoulders.
Preston: We have to go back. But isn’t the place gone? What else could be there now?
Millie: I think it’s more than that. I think we need to face this head on, whatever it is. We need to come to terms with what happened as well as acknowledging our part in this. I don’t know about you, but I want to sleep well at night all the time, not some of the time.
We nodded, but I felt a sickness I hadn’t felt since that day.
Preston: What if we don’t make it out? What if whatever is there takes us all one by one?
Fay: Well, then we’ll die knowing we did the right thing. Even if it’s over a decade too late.
We hugged for what felt like an eternity, the bonds between us all still strong and I swear I could feel someone’s hands on my shoulders, those of the people we left behind.
Setting off later that night, we arrived at the cordoned off dirt trail leading to Mantis Reach, a slew of messages from “CONDEMNED” to telling us to stay away under penalty of law. We clipped open the gate and trudged up the trail, no laptop to dictate but instead a nifty dictaphone Millie brought with her from work.
Millie: We use it all the time for patient reports, figured it may come in handy.
When we reached the summit and stared at the spot where our hideout had once stood, the gravity and finality of the situation hit us all like a freight train. There was no storm, no heavy rain, no ominous backdrop to greet us.
But there was a building.
It towered into the sky, several floors high. Some with blacked-out windows and other glowing with a faint purple light. A broadcast tower attached to the roof and a neon sign latched to the side of the building as we heard the glass doors beep and slide open for us.
It was a broadcast station and as that name flashed at me; I felt a chill run through my bones.
This was it.
“Beneath The Static.”