I constantly hear from progressive voices, politicians and celebrities such as David Attenborough, AOC, Bernie Sanders, Various Green Parties, Jeremy Corbyn, Noam Chomsky etc. that we need a Green New Deal. It's talked about in the US and the UK, maybe in other countries too.
The idea seems simple enough. Start using tax revenues to invest heavily in renewable energy infrastructure as well as conservation initiatives, remove subisidies from fossil fuel industries, introduce carbon taxes, subsidies for electric vehicles etc.
This would cause more jobs as it could work similarly to the post war boom in the US where there was so much to do and build that government jobs were abundant and well compensated. This will stimulate spending thus helping the economy etc.
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Here's my concerns about the Green New Deal, from a left and a realistic perspective:
- Firstly, after watching Michael Moore's: Planet of the Humans, and conducting my own research, it seems more than apparent that a lot of the geographically universal technologies we have developed in regard to renewable energies such as wind and solar are not only reliant on Fossil Fuels (solar panels require Coal to make as one of their core ingredients) as well as precious minerals to be constructed, but also will need to be regularly replaced and repaired using these same materials.
- These technologies, once made also are not as reliable as Fossil Fuels nor as efficient. Which begs the question of storage, i.e: Where do you keep your solar energy at night?. The obvious answer is Batteries. But Batteries are also not only made out of precious minerals, they are also very hazardous objects that are difficult to dispose of properly, if there is a massive increase of batteries required due to a reduction in our reliability of energy then more Battery related toxic waste will also occur. The same problems obviously apply to wind power. This Battery issue is also obviously easily related to electric Cars which are currently being heavily promoted.
- When I talk about the need to mine precious minerals above, it isn't just the fact that obviously these minerals are not renewable, it's also that the process of mining minerals can release all sorts of harmful green house gases that are trapped beneath the Earth, such as methane plumes, as well as the fact that most mining equipment is built with and runs on Fossil Fuels. (It is also worth mentioning that there a geo-political element, we've already seen countless wars and coups conducted for Oil, imagine the humanitarian crisises and wars that would occur in the battle for the latest mineral used in batteries for example).
- Some other dead-end alternatives:
Molten Salt Reactors or (MSRs) uses Thorium as fuel, which is good because Thorium is comparatively abundant, but does require some considerable mining effort to access. Once accessed Thorium can be activated in an MSR to create a 'cleaner' nuclear power plant. The only problem is that MSR's are not only less efficient that Uranium based power plants but also produce a much more toxic waste and in greater abundance. Think about the plastic or garbage problems we have now, but now imagine the waste is also irradiating things in an aura around it. People claim the waste will be disposed of properly seem to misunderstand the level of waste we are talking about here and the catastrophic implications tied to a country or company not disposing of this waste properly, which would inveitably happen.
Uranium power plants. This one is easy. Toxic waste (please see paragraph above), and giving every country on Earth the ability to create Nuclear WMD's is not an option.
'Bio-fuel' is the Orwellian way of saying burning wood, if we burned wood for energy at the levels we currently consume it is obvious that we would run out of Trees incredibly quickly which would have obviously catastrophic consequences. It does count as renewable though! As you can grow more trees. So be ready to see a lot more 'renewable' energy and products on the market that are actually burning through whole forests weekly under the guise of 'sustainibility'.
Geo-thermal, it's good for those that live near active volcano's, so congrats to you guys, for everyone else this tech is largely useless.
Coastal/Hydro-electric. Not only are Dams incredibly expensive to build they can also wreak havoc on the surrounding natural systems that have relied on the water flow for thousands, if not millions, of years. This also has a similar problem to geo-thermal in the fact that it is very much location based, if you do not have running water near you or a coast then hydro-electric isn't really an option. Coastal power is incredibly ineffcient but also very unreliable and expensive, it is not a viable option even for most islands like the UK.
- Plastics:
The Elephant in the room is Plastic. Oil companies will not stop drilling for Oil, and even if a company isn't looking for Oil and finds some, they are not going to not try and make money from it. In a world where Oil has now been removed from the energy sector the next most lucrative oppurtunity will be Plastics. It will all now be used to make Plastics, more Plastic than ever!
But don't worry we can recycle all that Plastic right? Well, no. Less than 10% of all Plastic ever made has ever been recycled, 90%+ of all the Plastic ever made is still out there in the World, some of it you're using right now, but most of it is floating in waters, in your food, in the stomach of an animal or being buried somewhere. This is because most plastics nowadays are not worth recycling, it is not economically viable to recycle most plastic, it's either a mixed plastic that is too complex to be worth the effort or it never actually makes it to a recycling plant that can fulfill the order. Most of the plastic is either dumped, burnt or sold to a poorer country that can search it for scraps.
So now imagine all of these Oil companies moving from the energy sector and making Plastic as cheap and bountiful as possible in an attempt to dump all the Oil they have before any more 'Green' legislation comes through. It would be a plastic Tsunami. But maybe the alternative is worse...
A world without plastic. Look around you right now and try and count how many things are made using plastic or a plastic derivative. I know for me it's a lot of items. What does society do when the Oil is gone and Plastics become almost impossible to make? Ok, maybe you can't have a cool Funko-Pop or whatever, but what about the Hospitals? Or the food packaging plants? Suddenly it goes from an annoying inconvience to a catastophy. My point here is that we are now tied to a material that is running out quickly, the use of which damages our atmosphere, enters our water supplies, our crops, animals, food and air.
The Green New Deal doesn't deal with the fact that plastics are now one of humanities most lethal addictions. Possibly because the solutions of this problem are not really clear for anyone. The Green New Deal also doesn't challenge in any way the plastic problem we already have and how we are supposed to even begin to clean it up, if that is even possible at this point.
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I get a lot of arguments from people when I bring up these points, there are more issues I can think of, but I think this post is long enough for now. I've already tried to keep this post as brief as possible.
The problem I have is that people never really challenge what I am saying, they just say I'm wrong, that I'm a traitor to the left or something to that effect, they call me ignorant or stupid. But no one has really actually given me a counter argument on most of the points I've highlighted above, and anyone that has managed to rebuke with a relevant point has merely addressed nuances in my points as opposed to damaging their actualy substantial validitity.
I even provide some solutions:
- Most of what I'm saying is based on current cosumption, if we cut our consumption of energy to a raioned amount that used renewable sources then we could probably make a more sustainable loop. But when I say 'cut' I'm talking about a huge reduction, i.e. only essentials such as lights, heating and maybe a house phone.
- No cars.
- No Smartphones.
- No non-essential Computers.
-No non-essential Plastic use i.e. anything that isn't for Medical or Scientific use.
- Reduced centralisation of power and politics allowing communites to grow, meaning that people will also rely much less on any transport, even public, to maintain healthy social relationships.
- Local farming, encouraging self sustainibility wherever you can.
- No planes except for emergencies.
- No global shipping or globalisation more generally.
- No profit motives. A complete economic restructure based on need and ability as opposed to want and greed.
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I call what I propose to these people a 'Democratic Permaculture'
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They say that I'm being idealistic, and I agree, I don't think any of what I just wrote above will happen, I think we'll burn out and die as an organised species. BUT surely, it's better to know that, than live the lie of the Green New Deal? Than to live in hope for something that clearly will not help find a solution but may actually make the problems we already face worse?
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Lastly, I believe the hidden danger of the Green New Deal will be pacification, it currently gives activists a carrot on the end of a stick to run after, and even if they catch it, they will feel that they have achieved something, they will feel an earned sense of relaxation, a sense of fulfillment. When really they haven't done anything detrimental to addressing the issue and any potential chance of mobilisation politically will be dead as the 'activists' will claim 'victory'.
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Thanks for coming to my TED Rant.
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Please, please, please tell me why I'm wrong and why I should support the Green New Deal or at least why I shouldn't think it's basically a waste of time and effort.
Also, am I right in concluding that the Green New Deal is really a mechanism for 'the Western' way of life to continue whilst attempting to remove any of the moral budern and angst surrounding Ecology? In a sesnse as way for the current system to have it's cake and eat it too?
Thanks again.

Let me start by apologizing if this theory has been previously posited. I did a quick search to see if I’d be wasting anyone’s time and didn’t see anything.
The internet is saturated with the details of Rey Rivera’s death, so I feel there’s no need to broadly rehash them here unless relevant to my theory. The case was featured in the debut episode of the Unsolved Mysteries reboot on Netflix. For the purposes of clarity regarding my theory and conviction, I will say I believe his death was either a suicide or death due to misadventure, leaning towards the latter. It’s unfortunate the paranoid state and bizarre behavior that often leads family to the conclusion of a conspiracy theory is identical to the delusions and hallucinations of someone in a deteriorating mental state. The case of Michael Hastings also comes to mind. There are easier, lower risk, and more effective ways to silence someone other than tampering with an automobile’s brakes or lugging a potentially incapacitated, 250 pound man through an occupied, secure building to fake a suicide.
A loved one taking their life shatters your reality and you’ll look for any way to get it back.
“We were looking forward to a life together and planning for the future.”
“They’d never abandon me.”
“I would have noticed something. They never exhibited signs of mental illness.”
So for me, the mystery in the Rey Rivera case isn't one of manner of death. I go into that more below. The sole question is how did his body land approximately 45 feet away from the Belvedere? I think we can safely assume he didn’t fall from the adjacent parking structure closer to the impact point since its ~20 foot height was inadequate to sustain the injuries listed by the coroner, who noted they were consistent with a fall from great height.
That he means gained access to a high point on the Belvedere – either the roof, or the ledge mentioned in the episode. As suggested in the show, the ledge is unlikely because the only access was through an apartment or office. There was no public (e.g., halls and common areas) access to windows along the ledge. In addition, walking would have been precarious given the ledge’s width, especially at night. I did some brief comparative imaging and it looks to be about a foot wide. I'm not sure what Rey's shoe size was, but given his height, I'd imagine there'd be no room for error with nothing to hang onto.
I don’t give any credibility to the argument that the roof was inaccessible. Potential liability means property owners/managers need to maintain they did everything possible to prevent a tragedy. I worked in a PR agency that had a multinational property management company as a client. In addition to saying the roof was locked, this could also mean destroying the video evidence and claiming there was a glitch. Even if caught, as long as it's destroyed early on in the investigation prior to discussions of wrongdoing or any subpoenas being issued, there may be no criminal act. They deleted a video, that's it. This was also a hot topic in the Elisa Lam story and her parents filed a lawsuit against the hotel claiming negligence. Employees leave secure doors open all the time. Smoke breaks. Fresh air. General laziness. Contractors. And as an urban explorer, you’d be surprised how much a knowing or determined look will grant you unfettered access to places you shouldn’t be. In addition, if you see a sign saying a door has an alarm, there’s a good chance there isn’t. Signs are cheap, guards and CCTV are not.
Also, I’d imagine most people would think twice about approaching a clean cut, 6.5’, 250 lb man with an accusatory tone unless they’re sure he’s up to no good.
So, in my opinion, the only real argument against Rey falling from the roof was the fact that, in order to travel ~45 feet from the edge of the building, he’d have to reach a foot speed of approximately ~9.3 mph in a ~45 feet – the distance of roof measured edge to edge. It’s generally understood that achieving this speed isn’t impossible, but would certainly be a challenge, especially for a guy in flip flops.
But what if Rey ran corner to corner? Specifically, from the outer northeast corner to the inner southwest corner? I’m by no means an engineer, but applying simple Pythagorean theorem, that distance would be about 64 feet – a 42% increase in acceleration distance. If you plot a trajectory along that path, it lines up shocking well with the impact point. See my crude photo.
The reason I specified the northeast corner is I believe his distance traveled was increased by horizontal wind forces caused by fluid dynamics around the Belvedere. Looking at the wind roses for Baltimore and wind data from the period of May 14 – May 25, 2006, the wind speed regularly reached ~20 mph in a southwesterly direction – the direction of travel on the proposed trajectory.
Granted, these wind speeds are normally achieved in the mid afternoon, with the morning and evening averaging around 10 mph. However, while it’s generally accepted Rey fell at night, there’s no conclusive evidence confirming that. In fact, moving freely about the Belvedere and navigating the roof would be easier during the day, given the roof is not lit and the sky was overcast for those days, limiting moonlight. As far as we know, he did not have a flashlight and the roof has dozens of hazards. Vents, machinery, etc. I’d even venture to say it’d be damn hard to avoid obstacles while running full chat on the roof at night.
Some might ask, "Wouldn’t someone see or hear anything during the day?"
Well, the impact point is well shielded on three sides by the 14 story, “u” shaped structure of the Belvedere – the tallest structure in the area by some margin. During a weekday, many of the condo residents would be at work. All the buildings adjacent to the open side of the “u” (south facing) are too low to have a line of sight through the parking garage to the impact point. The streets on the south side are also small residential streets that would have a fraction of the foot traffic on the hotel’s north side along a main street (E. Chase St). Acoustics in urban environments during busy weekdays can be unusual, impacted by noise pollution like traffic, construction, waste removal, even conversation. The aforementioned wind can deflect sound waves. Finally, it looks like the impact point is surrounded by HVAC equipment which likely made a significant amount of noise.
About 3 seconds. That’s all the time required for him to go from the roof to impact. That's all the time he needed to go unnoticed.
A recent (January 2020) article in the Journal of Forensic Sciences entitled Effect of Wind on Horizontal Displacement of Fatal Fall (linked below) concluded that, “it does not take a rare wind condition with unlikely high speed to shift a falling human body with noticeable displacement.”
It further states that a wind speed as low as 22 mph (Strong Breeze on the Beaufort scale) can displace a falling female body as much as 7.2 feet over a 2.47 second fall of 98.4 feet. The roof of the Belvedere was nearly double that height. A man, with more surface area and more drag, could theoretically increase that distance of horizontal displacement. Additionally, clothing, body position, even hair volume can affect drag. Look at the great lengths competitive swimmers, speed skaters, and cyclist go to eek out every aerodynamic advantage, including shaving leg hair. Next time you're in a car (and assuming you have arm hair), pop your arm out the window. You can feel the aerodynamic drag on each follicle.
Granted, these figures are for horizontal displacement of a falling human out in the open in unobstructed wind, not next to a building. However, while it may seem the building would shield the wind, it may actually increase the force of the wind and complicate the predictability of its dynamics in the micro climate around the Belvedere.
Along the height of a straight, vertical building, wind impacting the lower areas tends to blow down. Wind impacting the middle blows both up and down. Wind hitting the roof peak traverses to the lee/downwind side of the building in multiple vertices travelling at various speeds at varying angles. I included a wind tunnel video below to show the complexity of fluid dynamics with respect to building shapes.
Many variables also have to be factored into the wind’s behavior. For example, the Belvedere is the tallest building in the area. The buildings and structures around alter wind direction, creating possible Venturi Effect, and unpredictable forces in the area. Also, the wind is theoretically hitting the corner of the building, not the broadside, which could increase wind forces or conversely create vacuums via low-pressure paths. The “u” shape of the hotel would likely also have an effect, with wind partially hitting the inside wall as well.
Downdrafts, updrafts, side drafts - the potential for all three existed and any one could carry Rey closer to the hole.
Like I said, I’m not a scientist and would love to have one pick apart my theory if you’re out there! But I do believe there is credible evidence to suggest that Rey could have had more of a running start than stated (likely minimized to the smallest possible distance on the show for dramatic effect and deniability) and may have been bounced around, helped along in mid air by wind displacement that brought him closer to the impact point.
Then, there’s something I call the Titanic “propeller guy” potential – video below. Beaux Arts revival architecture often features a beveled edge below the inset, flat roof. Often, these beveled edges have protruding windows, stone design elements, chimneys, and in the case of my proposed trajectory at the Belvedere, all three.
Rey runs from the northeast corner of the building with a ~20 mph southeasterly wind. Based on photos and Google satellite images, that path, in addition to being longer, is also perhaps the most unobstructed line the roof in terms of obstacles (see pic). As he leaves the roof with higher velocity than previously believed given 45% more running room, his trajectory is closer to the impact point. Wind forces around the Belvedere in its urban micro climate push him even closer to the impact point.
To this scenario, you can add the possibility that he makes contact with one of the aforementioned architectural details on his arc, converting some of his gravitational force to lateral movement or even a spiral, before he’s caught up in the wind forces around the building, carrying him further still.
The Titanic “propeller guy” effect.
Even simple drag and body position could have an effect on his trajectory from the Belvedere. Think of a skydiver spread eagle versus one pointed straight at the ground. The altitude lost per distance traveled is far less when spread eagle with more surface area. We’re talking much lower altitude, but we only need to travel a horizontal distance of ~45 feet.
Some people will say, “Well, what about the glasses and cell phone looking virtually unscathed? What about the broken flip flop and the scuff marks?”
If anything, they all lend credence to the fact that he jumped. He first attempts the run with his flip flops on. He trips, breaking one strap and creating the scuffs. Realizing that isn’t going to work, he removes the flip flops, holds them in his hand for safe keeping, and takes the final run. Like most people who wear glasses, he removes them and puts them in his pocket prior doing something where they risk of being broken.
His cell phone was likely also in his pocket, as cell phones typically are. Both items remained there until he hits the roof, where they’re dislodged by the impact, but after his body has absorbed most of the energy. Alternatively, he held his phone and glasses in his hand instead of his pocket, but again, they’re only shaken loose after his body has absorbed the brunt of the deceleration.
I actually think the mysterious broken shin may have been one of the initial impact points. His body could have fallen in any orientation. Despite discussions, the hole size is of no consequence so long as the surrounding roof structure is stronger than bone and tissue extruded through it.
Either way, they fell with Rey and his body absorbed the initial impact causing deceleration. If they were thrown from the roof, they'd be badly damaged. If they were staged, the obvious question would be why.
Why would you take items in your possession ascertained in the course of committing a criminal act and waste time staging them for absolutely no reason? It doesn't exonerate anyone, help the story (or conspiracy, if you're so inclined), or provide an alibi. LE has no explanation. It isn't a scene created by a serial killing unsub who has a fetish for big dudes, roofing, glasses, and cell phones. One thing's for certain -- these careless actions were not the work of professionals, yet they're intrinsic to many of the conspiracy theories that involve staging of evidence. So the contradictory leap of faith is professional killers are a component of the conspiracy, but they'd be careless enough to stage a scene with zero upside and a ton of risk so the story can fit the conspiracy.
Baltimore has dozens of bridges, several rivers, and a major port that would be far more suitable for the disposal of bodies and their accessories. And none of them would require dragging a massive body through a building unseen.
Sadly, I think Rey, in a break with reality, expected to survive the jump and protected his valuables. If it isn't clear, I don't go in for conspiracies. But I am willing to concede there may be something to the theory that there's a connection to the 1997 movie The Game. It was one of the movies listed in the bizarre, micro-typed letter taped to his PC, and apparently a favorite.
However, if that connection exists, it was only in Rey's mind. Witnesses say he was a regular at the rooftop bars and, looking down on the south side, there is a very strong resemblance to the buildings featured in the movie. Link to clip below. Spoiler alert if you want to watch it.
Normally, I wouldn’t write something like this, putting forth one of my theories and rambling on. But the Rey Rivera case has a personal connection for me. I was about Rey’s age when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Most people manifest symptoms much earlier than 32, but I guess I was a late bloomer. Like Rey, I had a wonderful life. Beautiful girlfriend, nice house, loving family, good job. Talk of marriage, kids. Everyone thought I was on a path to success. However, I was cutthroat. Mean. Emotional. An alcoholic and workaholic who’d say, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead”. I’d subsequently learn that insomnia, irritability, and inability to control impulses are symptoms of mania, but not before I had a psychotic break and lost that beautiful girlfriend, house and job in the course of weeks.
I’m not saying Rey had a mood disorder. It sounds like he was an absolute sweetheart. I am saying that, from firsthand experience, a mental illness, and delusions/hallucination in particular, can manifest quickly and profoundly. However, if you’re a man, the symptoms are “harder” to see, but only because our society generally doesn’t look for them:
“He’s not mental ill. He’s a hard working, take no shit kind a guy who’s not afraid to break a few balls to get things done. He deserves to drink whenever he wants. It’s what real men do – work hard, play hard. He’s not an asshole. He’s shrewd shark.”
Part of this tragedy is the way we approach men’s mental health. When watching the Unsolved Mysteries episode, something really stood out to me and it’s why I wrote and researched this (hopefully) plausible theory. His wife kept saying that, on numerous occasions, she was extremely unsettled by the fear she’d see in her big, strong guy in the weeks leading up to his death.
Big, strong men in good health don’t get scared unless there’s a credible threat, right? There must have been something going on. It couldn’t just be all in his head.
But, just as often as with anyone else, it sometimes is. If he wasn’t a big, strong, stereotype of a man, it would be patently clear his behavior is clearly the signs of mental distress, especially after the fact.
Take, for example, the note:
“I stand before you a man who understands the purpose and value of our secrets. That’s why I cherish them as secrets.”
“Members of The Council, please note, that I will lend careful concentration to the traditional responsibilities. In light of those proceedings, I will satisfy the standard request of this council, within the appropriate time.”
I mean, respectfully, c’mon! These are clinical examples of delusions. In this case, the delusion of grandeur or greater purpose. The interest in the power of Freemasonry also points to this delusion.
Returning to the film The Game, the plot is about (spoiler alert) an emotionally cold, socially isolated, and very wealthy banker who achieves redemption and sense of higher purpose after an participating in an elaborate AR-type game staged by his brother. The climax involves the protagonist's attempted suicide by jumping, but he survives, caught by a giant airbag as part of The Game.
Man, as someone who's had a psychotic break, I could so easily see how his delusional brain could start connecting non-existent dots. Rey wrote about the stock market and knew that social scene. The protagonist in the movie works in finance and his persona personifies the one per-centers. Similarities and familiarity start to blur the line between real and fictional people, but ever so subtly at first.
Reoccurring, cryptic, and scary telephone calls are a recurring plot device in the film and intrinsic to its structure. Rey seemed to place increasing significance on calls as his mind deteriorated, eventually rushing out of the house to his death after receiving one.
As the movie progresses, the line between reality and The Game becomes completely and absolutely blurred in a way that makes the protagonist feel like he's losing his mind, seeing connections with none exist, missing those that do, unsure if he's being followed, and not knowing who to trust.
In fact, the whole thing hauntingly plays out like an impending psychotic break taken solely from the protagonist's POV, at least in my experience. These things would start to validate that for him, nothing is out of the ordinary and things are playing out as they should similar to the film.
And the view from the roof of the Belvedere looks eerily similar to the view from the climatic scene where the protagonist finds redemption, not death, by jumping off the roof.
In addition, Rey was in a state of transition, moving back to California and mapping out the next stage of his life. Through my experience in therapy and group session, psychotic breaks are often precipitated by drastic life changes and uncertainty.
Finally, I studied film in school as did Rey. For film nerds, there are certain directors who seem particularly adept at speaking on a metaphysical level while resonating with a broad audience. David Fincher is one of them. Themes about the perception of reality (Fight Club, The Game), religious allegory (Se7en), the meaning of life (Curious Case of Benjamin Button), and capitalism (Fight Club, The Social Network, The Game) are expertly interwoven in his films.
There is absolutely zero doubt in my mind that all of these concepts were front of mind for Rey as he lost touch with reality.
His paranoid behavior regarding his family's safety leading up to his death reflects a delusion of persecution, or that someone or something is out to get him.
The rest of the note is textbook disorganized speech – a free association of words with little to no connection. He asks to be made five years younger. He references Freemasonry – many delusions present with supernatural, spiritual, or otherworldly connections. He talks about his favorite movies, lists relatives and friends. But with no continuity of thought whatsoever.
His widow said it all:
“There’s a whole page of people he knew but he’s missed some significant people, so that seems strange. There were movies and the movies were the ones that really stuck to him. I know what all of these things were and nothing was a really a surprise, it was just why they were all compiled and in the format that they were compiled.”
It’s not a code. It’s not a secret message. It’s the unfortunate and upsetting (given his fate) ramblings of a man who was likely manifesting the early signs of schizophrenia.
The true crime community has varying levels of involvement and passion, but I like to think we’re all united by a quest for the truth and justice – unified by our shared ability to look at the evidence objectively and start a respectful dialogue with each other regarding what happened. This “Occam’s razor” theory is me starting a dialogue. Elisa Lam. Rey Rivera. Michael Hastings. These aren’t conspiracies. These are individuals that were manifesting textbook symptoms of mental illness according the DSM-5 and met unfortunate ends. We marginalize the experience of these people by taking behavior we should seek to understand and saying it’s incomprehensible outside a conspiracy. We make people less attenuated to the symptoms by attributing them to anything but mental illness. We should be open to all possibilities that may lead to resolution, especially when it comes to establishing there’s no mystery at all.
Otherwise, we’re not investigating a conspiracy. We become one.
YouTube video of common building shapes in a wind tunnel:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEgk2Bgz16s
The “propeller guy” scene from Titanic:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tz4JSTXuP9E
Journal of Forensic Science article on horizontal displacement from a fatal fall:
https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/pdf/10.1111/1556-4029.14169
Suicide clip from the 1997 movie The Game
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXBUdCvqpNg
Possible trajectory
https://imgur.com/a/70VQ7hU
EDIT - spelling and grammar
NOTE - I just noticed I misspelled Rey's surname in the title. I can't see a way to edit it, but I am a bit of a Luddite. My apologies. Rey and his memory deserve the utmost of respect.
EDIT - sincere thanks for the precious metal! Y'all do know how to make a girl (well, technically a bearded, balding dude) feel special. For years, I've been writing as a hobby, but never put anything out there for public consumption due to cowardice. I'm literally the only one who reads my work. Any attempt at expressing the magnitude of my gratitude wouldn't do justice to the generosity of your kind words and encouragement.

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General Nodra'ak (4 Stars), Commander, V Corps (Mixed Metal), liked to think of himself as a fair being and a good officer. He had attended East Point as a young Treana'ad and graduated 9th in his class. He had taken part in ground actions for nearly a hundred years, starting as a Cav Scout officer and climbing his way to his current exalted rank, not over the bodies of his men, but by lifting them up and encouraging to perform beyond even their own expectations. He had always tried to be a fair and even being, considerate of the lower ranks and respectful to his superiors and approachable to his peers. He had tried to avoid the traps of ego and self-promotion, attempted to avoid letting his own emotions get in the way of what needed to be done, strove to make sure he did what was right for the services rather than his own career.
He knew he had not always succeeded. There was the unfortunate duel twenty years back over a slight of honor. There was the time he had viewed being put in charge of a Rapid Ready Support Battalion as a punishment rather than a way to understand the military better. There was another unfortunate memory where he had left his rifle on a briefing table and then was ambushed on his way back and had been forced to resort to his sidearms and bladearms.
General Nodra'ak knew he wasn't perfect. Knew that all beings made mistakes.
Even the legendary General Trucker, which he had the honor of commanding, had once driven his tank into a river one night and as a young tanker had gone to kick the autoloader loose and had it slam shut on his foot, severing it, during gunnery practice.
But what had happened during the Telkan landings was inappropriate.
Nodra'ak picked up his pack of cigarettes, tamping them on his bladearm, and slowly unwrapped the clear plastic from the top. He immersed himself in the ritual, tapping the rune for accept when the legend "You know this is bad for you, do you agree to not whine at us when your lungs turn to liquid shit?" popped up above the top. He opened the pack, undoing the tinfoil and pulling the front flap of it out.
The holotank in front of him was playing out the landings. Specifically, Telkan-1.
He dropped the plastic and the tinfoil into the waste disposal.
His dropships had come under heavy ground fire immediately. Energized plasma and heavy lasers being fired by plants. Bioplasma and biolasers weren't unknown, they had shown up on more than one world. His own species had a caste that could be specifically grown to eject plasma from the abdomens powerful enough to hit ships in near orbit. His ships were pounded as they came in, the atomic craters ringed by heavy air defense.
The holotank reversed, going to the start of the landing operation.
Units headed for the drop zones in assault shuttles. Recon section, usually 2 squads of Telkan Marines, two platoons of warborgs, 2 platoons of Marines, one squad of heavy robot combat power armor, an attachment of goodbois and simbas. All loaded onto a dual purpose shuttle.
He slowly pulled out a single cigarette, turned it upside down, and slid it back into the pack.
Each unit was flashing "I Have Engaged the Enemy" as it either got close to the city or entered the city. Half of the assault shuttles were shot down when they reached the craters, the other half were beaten back. Two tried to land and build an LZ according to orders, their weapons still under lockout.
General Nodra'ak slowly pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mandibles, and closed the pack, setting it carefully, back down, on the table, still staring at the holotank as it went through the battle at 10X speed.
Giant creatures erupted from the lakes, attacking the two units attempting to build LZ fire bases. The battle was over in less than ten minutes.
Nodra'ak picked up the lighter. A delightfully primitive contraption that used actual flint, steel, a cotton wick, and liquid petroleum based fuel to create a flame. He snapped open the metal lid, the saying on the side gleaming in the light from the holotank.
"Join the Army; travel to exotic, distant lands; experience ancient and amazing cultures, meet exciting, unusual people. And kill them."
He lit the cigarette, inhaling the stimulant, as he watched the scout units struggle to reach the craters, carrying out their orders from 303rd Military Intelligence Brigade, 13th Military Intelligence Battalion. Most of the units had "LOCKOUT" over their heads in flashing red text.
Interestingly enough, the Telkan units did not. He doublechecked and it became plain that 303/13 had failed to give the Telkan Marine unit information datapacks.
The lighter clicked as he snapped the lighter closed, reaching out with a bladearm to tap a few icons, checking the recorded suit diagnostics.
Interesting. Their armor still has, by regulation, a few features locked out as they're a new allied race unit and have no real dedicated officers. Their previous officer, the morning of this mission, took a bioweapon bladearm through the chest. Their armor is in, largely, read-only mode, which means they didn't get the 303rd's lockout order.
The holotank surged into motion again when Nodra'ak tapped the resume icon.
General Nodra'ak set the lighter on the table with a quiet click, exhaling smoke from his mandibles and from the respiration holes down his abdomen.
The Telkan Scout units laid in a lot of fire. Curious, Nodra'ak highlighted one unit, blanking out the data of the rest of the unit. The scouts quickly ID'd threats, uploading it to the rest of their unit, moving quickly. They seemed adept at jumping up onto walls, using graviton 'spikes' to anchor themselves to the vertical surfaces while they looked for another jump point or deployed their weapons. They were also fast, moving with pack attitudes, a leader out front and the rest seeming to run on instinct.
Nodra'ak tapped the warsteel case of his flip top lighter with the tip of one bladearm, watching the battle take place. He took another deep drag off his cigarette.
The orbital strikes hammered the lakes. Only two units had been able to get visual of the lakes.
The mats of algae and plant fiber drank the energy up even as the thunderclap ripples the surface of the lake. Nodra'ak ran an analysis of the effectiveness of the fire as he exhaled smoke from his respiration orifices, surrounding himself in a cloud of bluish smoke.
The mats and algae had acted like battle-screens, soaking up the particle beam and laser energy.
Of course they did. They grow in heavy radiation craters, probably to soak up and devour the radiation.
Small drones raced out, screaming theater updates. New codes, new frequencies, wargear unlock codes, new drop zones. Most were intercepted, but the creation engine nanoforges pumped out more, the anti-air units throwing the drones up instead of interception drones. Most of those were intercepted and destroyed, but not all, and each wave a few more got close to the cities, each wave got deeper and deeper into the projected drop zones.
The two units at the edges of the craters came under immediate attack. A damaged Orion class dropship verimech managed to stop the initial assault of one of the Class-III bioforms, only meters in front of a defiant Telkan who was firing rockets and grenades as fast as his armor could push out.
The other unit was overwhelmed and destroyed.
Nodra'ak took another deep drag to keep his nerves calm.
His dropships started coming in, immediately coming under heavy fire from all but one crater.
Nodra'ak rewound the recreation, taken from the armor sensor systems and built into a whole. He focused on the unit that not only reached the craters but had gotten their beacon up and then redirected his troops, all of the 3rd Armor Division, to a safer LZ outside of the city.
One trooper, a Corporal Vuxten, 1st Telkan Marines, had disobeyed a direct order from his direct superior officer, opening fire and ordering his troops to open fire. Additionally, he'd managed to override the lockout on half the warborgs. Then he had managed to override 303rd's lockout.
Nodra'ak zoomed in, examining what happened.
The Telkan troop had attached all the warbois, simbas, and half the warborgs to his own unit. Then all of the other troops had removed themselves from the battle tactical network, deleted their mission files, restarted, and linked back into the BATTACNET, their armor systems automatically using the Telkan's mission files, which did not contain the lockout or the 13th MI Threat Update packs.
Nodra'ak knew battle. Had been an Army officer for a hundred years. He knew a battle-field patch-job when he saw it.
The Telkan had been in the right. His own officer, critically wounded and in the ICU, had endorsed the Telkan Marine's decisions and actions, crediting the NCO with enabling the unit to reach its objective as well as managing to get 3rd Armor to a safe LZ.
Yet, if Nodra'ak did not agree with the officer, one Second Lieutenant Ramses Reginald Rogers, then General Nodra'ak would have to support the request for a court martial of the Telkan by higher ranking officers.
Specifically, one General Altair, who had seemed to focus all his wrath on the Telkan Marine, blaming the Telkan for Altair's LZ deployment operation coming apart.
Nodra'ak put out the cigarette, slowly get out another, and lit it, going over the Telkan Marine's file.
Nodra'ak had to admit he was impressed. The Corporal had fought in the Precursor War as an Irregular Scout with the Army and had a rank of PFC in the Army with a handful of medals for close combat. He'd helped put the Telkan Marine Brigade together. Graduate of the Confederate Marine Course. Trusted well enough by his superiors, all men of distinction and valor, to lead missions where he was the sole authority.
The Telkan gestalt loved him. He was on plenty of morale and welfare posters.
Nodra'ak exhaled another cloud of smoke around himself. He ran through several video files of the Telkan Marine in action. Nodra'ak noted that a lot of the memes focused around the armored Telkan Marine still being a debt-slave worker.
WORKER VUXTEN YOU HAVE BEEN FINED TWO DAYS PAY FOR LACK OF GROOMING was the caption of the Telkan Marine covered in blood and guts as he tore a bioweapon in half with his hands as his little green mantis fired a micro-missile launcher and both of the Telkan's shoulder guns were on full auto.
WORKER VUXTEN YOU HAVE BEEN FINED ONE WEEKS PAY FOR UNLICENSED USE OF A VEHICLE was the caption for the Telkan Marine crushing a bioweapon by grabbing a damaged ground car and swinging it to smash the bioweapon.
WORKER VUXTEN YOU HAVE BEEN FINED ONE HOURS PAY FOR VIOLATION OF VERBAL MORALITY STATUTES captioned a video file of the Telkan Marine appearing suddenly by crashing through a plascrete wall and running toward the viewer with 'shit shit shit shit' over his head. Two seconds later a huge bioweapon came crashing through the wall. The little green engineer was standing on top of the Marine's helmet, facing backwards with a 4-pack launcher held up, shooting micro-missiles at the huge bioweapon as the Marine ran by the trooper who's armor recorded the event. Rockets from all side hit the huge bioweapon, blowing apart its midsection in a shower of gore.
It made Nodra'ak snort in amusement.
He's can lead and he's got balls. Now if we can just keep him alive long enough to get the juice flowing to his brains, we might have a Telkan officer on our hands, Nodra'ak thought to himself.
Nodra'ak tapped the "DENIED" icon on the request to court martial Corporal Vuxten, Terran Confederate Marine Corps (Telkan), scribbled his signature with a bladearm tip, and saved the file to official record.
He cleared the holotank, put out his cigarette, and ordered the ready room's atmospherics to clear the smoke out.
He'd seen what he needed to see.
---------------------------
General Altair wasn't handcuffed or otherwise restrained. His face was unmarred and his dress uniform was pristine. He was perfectly groomed as two Army military police escorted him into the large room. General Altair wasn't worried by the fact that six general officers were sitting on one side of a long table, with two small desks two paces from the table. Both of the small desks had Judge Advocate General officers sitting at them.
General Altair noted the board members and stiffened slightly. One of the officers was from a newly accepted species that had been allowed to keep their rank in their former military organization, not a soldier who had moved properly through the ranks of the Terran Armed Forces. He sat down behind the chair, next to the JAG lawyer.
General Nodra'ak picked up a small hammer and rang a silver bell, filling the room with the sound of the tone.
"Let the court be in session," Nodra'ak said.
Altair felt his skin prickle as the prosecution called its first witness by vid.
Second Lieutenant Rogers was lying in a hospital bed, chest covered in bandages, face bruised, radiation burns gleaming under burn gel. The left side of his face was scarred up in a grid and his eye socket was empty. He was sworn in and then questioned.
It was a military court, not a civilian one, so fancy courtroom tricks didn't work. The Terran Armed Services Code of Military Justice was plain and easy to understand. No trying to shift blame or accuse the Lieutenant of cowardice or incompetence, just plain statements of the facts without opinions.
The witnesses were interviewed, one after another, including an angry Major who's command had been virtually wiped out when the weapon lockout couldn't be overridden even when his men were under heavy fire and taking casualties.
General Altair wasn't worried, not even when he was called up for his turn as a witness.
"Was it regrettable that the lockout could not be disabled? Yes. Did it cost lives? Yes. Is it standard operational procedure to engage lockouts for units not engaged in combat? Yes. My decisions were according to SOP, the TASCMJ, and the best intelligence I had available at the time," General Altair said, looking suitably somber. "Using the best intelligence we had to offer we put together the deployment plan to optimize getting the units of V Corps on the ground even if beacon placement failed."
His own defense lawyer nodded, his face neutral. General Altair made a mental note to ensure that his lawyer ran into difficulties his next promotion board. Altair knew perfectly well that the lawyer was on the edge of allowing his feelings to override his duty.
The prosecuter moved up and with his first question Altair felt his stomach clench.
"Are the planets Telkan-1 and Telkan-2 considered active combat zones across the entire planet, including mandating modified battle dress for all personnel outside of shelters, even if they are within the operational area of logistic bases or not?" The JAG officer asked.
Altair started sweating but he'd prepared for the question.
"It is the opinion of one non-combat officer, who has somehow managed, in over two hundred years, to avoid even the barest hint of combat, that the planets are active combat zones," Altair said, leaving a slight edge of contempt in his voice even as he kept his face neutral. "I question his judgement."
"Objection. Major General Takilikakik's judgement is not on trial here, nor is his decision to label the entire planet a combat zone up for debate," the JAG officer said. "I'd like to remind the officers of the court that the operational command of both ground-side theaters is, as per Space Force Command, under Major General Takilikakik's legal authority while Lieutenant General Altair's area of authority is with military intelligence analysis activities within the Telkan-1 ground and near orbital theaters, as per Space Force Command."
"Sustained," the Chief Officer of the Court stated, nodding.
Altair's political instincts, honed after decades of infighting, suddenly went off.
"An examination of your sphere of authority does not seem to extend you the authority to countermand theater commanders, nor is there any exemptions toward military intelligence missions. To be precise, any military intelligence ground-side missions are to be relayed to Fifth Platoon, Bravo Company, 75th Regiment for planning and operational deployment. I see no area of your orders that turn over combat commands to your posting," the lawyer said. "Is there any evidence you would like to submit that counters that fact?"
Altair just sat there thinking as fast as he could.
"Additionally, sir, and I remind you that you are under oath, you specifically labeled the deployment mission orders as 'routine' and 'non-combat' in order to bypass the legitimate military authorities. Am I correct?" the lawyer asked.
"It was a routine non-combat mission," Altair tried.
"That specifically and repeatedly made allowances for V Corps units to land under fire?"
"Yes. The lines of battle can shift rapidly."
"And you made no effort to lockout V Corps weaponry. As a matter of fact, you suggested to V Corps commanders that they come in, and I quote, locked and loaded and ready for action?"
"The situation on the ground can change rapidly."
"Why not transmit the codes to V Corps to override the lockout if they became engaged in battle?"
"Communication can be spotty in battle, Captain."
"So you wanted to give V Corps commanders the latitude to adjust to rapidly changing ground conditions and lines of battle in an environment that could restrict communications access?" the lawyer asked.
"Of course."
"With that claim, can you tell me how many units you were in contact with once the dropship left the operational bases to a distance of ten kilometers?"
"Not off the top of my head, no."
"Well, General, I have it right here. The number is somewhat easy to fathom. Would you care to guess how many of the eighty units you had deployed you had communication with at the fifteen mile mark?"
"I would hazard a guess of 80%," Altair said, feeling better. This was the proper way things should go.
"Eight zero percent?"
"Yes."
"One of those numbers is accurate. The zero," the JAG Captain said.
There was complete silence.
"Nothing further," The JAG officer said.
-------------------
The members of the board filed into the secondary room, taking their seats and looking at General Nodra'ak, who slowly lit a cigarette.
"This is a bag of snakes," the Treana'ad said.
Everyone nodded.
"It's all over the lower ranks. Everyone ground-side knows that Altair sent the Marines to their deaths with their weapons locked out. They're furious," General Trucker said. He spit into the plas bottle in his hand. "Those Marines have been holding off the bioweapons for over a week. First Telkan, with the exception of a single Marine, was completely unblooded and they took heavy casualties thanks to that jackass."
General Esheleshee, one of the 8th Infantry Division commanders nodded. "Which is an additional problem to the major one I foresee."
Nodra'ak jabbed his cigarette at Esheleshee. "What's that?"
"The Telkan aren't quite aware of how bad of a cockup this is, but someone's going to explain to them that the Marines were left with locked out weapons while the Army got to come burning in with hot guns. We don't want the Telkans to think we think they're expendable," Esheleshee said.
Nodra'ak exhaled smoke and nodded.
"General Altair filed this quite innovatively. If it had gone off successfully, since he had planned it, he would have gotten all the credit. Because it went badly, he can attempt to lay the blame on the ground commander, General Takilikakik, leaving everyone to assume that Takilikakik's first combat command had gone badly," General Ulfreck stated.
"Not to mention he attempted to lay the blame for the debacle at the 3rd Armor landing zone on a Telkan Marine Corporal," Nodra'ak nodded. "I watched recreations of that battle and the sheer gall it takes to try to court martial that Marine and attempt to imply Lieutenant Rogers was incompetent rather than making mistakes that troops on their first combat drop can make."
The entire court went silent.
After a moment General Nodra'ak exhaled smoke and stared at the rest. "Well, we better get on with it. We'll just take an open vote."
"Has the court found suitable basis to relieve General Altair of command and remand him to TerraSol for court martial?" Nodra'ak asked. He then asked each board member for their vote.
It passed unanimously.
"What is the board's recommendation for court martial?" Nodra'ak asked.
The vote for a 'Special Court Martial' was carried, again, unanimously.
---------------------
TASK FORCE 32 MEMO
V Corps (Mixed Metal) has successfully made planetfall on Telkan-1 and Telkan-2 and has been folded into Space Force TO&E.
General Altair is hereby relieved of command of 303 Military Intelligence and remanded to the custody of the Military Police for transport to TerraSol for court martial.
303 Military Intelligence is ordered to Wellton-638 for reorganization. All officers and enlisted on station for more than 5 years are to be reassigned outside of Corps and Army.
128th Military Intelligence (V CORPS) is hereby assigned to Hyperion-One to take over duties of 303 MI.
System is in control of CONFEDMIL forces. Task Force 32 requests Naval relief due to combat action losses and damage.
ETA for evacuation of Telkan-1 and Telkan-2 is four days.
Enemy strength planetside is overwhelming. The biosphere and ecosystem are lost.
Civilian authorities have requested planet be retaken and terraformed to Pre-Council state.
General Takilikakik is commended in his staunch defense of the planet and its inhabitants.
1st Telkan Marines are commended for the actions.
Corporal Vuxten, 1st Telkan Marines, is hereby pinned brevet Second Lieutenant and recommended for Officer Candidate School.
-------NOTHING FOLLOWS---------
Brentili'ik stared at the memo, then closed her eyes and bowed her head.
Four more days.
All he had to do is survive for four more days.

DC Next presents:

Suicide Squad

Issue 4: Unethical Practices
Written by Deadislandman1
Edited by dwright5252 and AdamantAce
 
 
“¿Realmente podemos hacerlo, hermana? (Can we really make it, sister?)”
“¡Por supuesto que podemos! Quédate conmigo y estaremos bien. (Of course we can! Stick with me and we’ll be fine!)”
The full moon cast the desert in a subtle shade of grey as a young girl shuffled across the sand as quickly as she could, pulling a smaller boy who clutched an action figure along by the hand as the two hurried across a barren asphalt road, skittering into the bushes as the headlights of a truck lit the area behind them. Keeping low, the two crept towards a rocky outcrop, scrambling through as the lights behind them began to shift from the roads to the outcropping.
“I think I see one!” shouted a distinctly American voice, “C’mon, we can catch them before they get to the border.”
No, not now. They were closer to freedom, to their goal, than they’d ever been before, yet these people who crossed everyday looking for trouble always found them. They can’t let it end here! Holding onto the boy as tightly as she could, the girl began to sprint, yanking the boy along as the two scaled a cragged hill. As they reached the top, a large chain link fence could be seen from their vantage point, the goal of both the girl and her little brother. As footsteps drew closer to the girl, she whirled around to spot a small gang of four men in cowboy hats and overalls trudging towards them, shining their flashlights on her as they began to pick up the pace at the sight of her and her brother.
“There they are!” shouted one of the men, “Get ‘em!”
As her heart rate jumped a mile a minute, the girl grabbed her brother by the arm, pulling him along as the two began to run as fast as they could, bolting towards the border as their pursuers raced after them, grabbing at the two in an attempt to capture them. The brother’s breathing began to become laboured as he wheezed, unable to keep up with his sister as she tried to drag him along. He was too young, his legs were too short, he could never keep up with his sister, but his sister was unwilling to let him go. They would never make it together, a fact that couldn’t be any truer than now.
“Gotcha, you little bastard!”
One of their pursuers reached out, grabbing the brother’s hand as he began to scream in terror, yanked out of his sister’s grip before being tossed to the ground, dropping his toy as he was held down by one of the men while the other three dove after the sister.
“Luis!” shouted the sister, angrily turning around only to be tackled to the ground by one of the men, hands around her throat as the other two began to search around for more immigrants.
“Is that all of them?” said one of the men, scratching his head, “I thought there was supposed to be a whole caravan of them? They would have been a great way of repainting my truck.”
“Nah, they tend to break up into smaller groups nowadays.” said another of the men, holding the sister down with all of his strength as she struggled against his grip, “Still, we got a couple of little Illegals here, what should we do with ‘em?”
“I say we hand ‘em over to Border security, they’ll sort ‘em out.” said the man holding the brother down. As he placed his hand over the brother’s mouth, the brother bit down on one of his fingers, prompting him to yowl in pain before getting off of the brother to kick him in the ribs, “Little fucker! Maybe I’ll dispose of you myself!”
The sister gritted her teeth, feeling an uncontrollable rage start to burn inside her as her skin began to charr, her eyes glowing like embers as her fingers began to light up in response to seeing her brother get harmed. Feeling the heat building underneath his palms, the man holding the sister down suddenly stumbled back in surprise as the sister let out an angry shout, setting the man ablaze with just a single look. The heat became more intense at an exponential speed, cutting out his scream halfway as he was reduced to ash in an instant. Hearing the cut out cry of their companion, the men turned towards the sister, only to find a dark figure that looked less like a human and more like a demon. With pitch black skin, a constant inferno encircling the body with bright orange eyes, the sister stalked towards them, baring her clawed arms as she stared each of them down, “¡Déjalo! ¡En!. ¡Paz! (Leave! Him! Alone!)”
With the swing of her wrist, the men were instantly engulfed in flames, rendered into ash with nary a scream.
 
 
“How long do you tend to stew in here for?”
Raptor sat in knee deep water, his back against the wall of the cell as he tested Killer Croc’s waters, searching for any and all kinds of useful information. He had been in there for a few weeks, pruning up in dirtied waters alongside a big man with leathery skin and sharp teeth. Croc wasn’t really one to make conversation, hell, he didn’t even make much noise at all. At a few points Raptor would even forget he was sharing a cell with him, only to be reminded by the splash of a human limb from the small duct above and the subsequent snapping of bone and tearing of flesh. A quiet eater Croc was not.
Lawton received his own meal around the same time, a small cardboard box containing a little pile of slop that barely fulfilled the criteria to be called food. Whatever it was, it was nutritious enough to keep him somewhat healthy, even if it tasted like bile cooked in a microwave with a side of plastic. He had to grab it out of the air and eat it quickly though, once it was in the water it was inedible and the guards never waited for him to be awake when they dropped it. If he wasn’t there to eat it, it would go to waste.
“Hrrrrrrnnn….We only get to come out when it’s time to work,” growled Croc, slithering about in the darker corners of the cell, “Other than that, it’ll be for medical examinations once a month. Don’t bother faking anything, they can tell.”
“Damn, no openings at all?” said Raptor.
“No openings,” replied Croc.
Raptor sighed, leaning further back against the wall as he began to stew in frustration. He’d hoped to probe for a weakness in the walls or infrastructure, a gap in the guards’ patrol patterns, but almost everything about this place was airtight to a tee. He was beginning to think that the damaged wall in his initial lodging was a singular exception and not a good reflection of the prison as a whole. It made sense, this was a supermax prison built for metahumans, so top of the line maintenance and security were top concerns.
“I know what you're thinking.”
“Hmm?”
Croc suddenly spoke up, startling Raptor as the reptiloid’s eyes met his, amber eyes that seemed to stand out against the pitch black darkness of the cell, “People have been trying to escape Belle Reve for years, anyone who’s ever actually gotten out of their cell has either gotten shoved back in or put in a body bag. No-one’s ever gotten out for good, so don’t think you’re going to break the trend.”
Raptor stared back at Croc for a moment before scoffing, blowing his advice off, “They want us complacent, to be good little boys. Thinking like that only fits their mold. Sure, maybe it’ll take a few months, maybe even a year, but dammit, I will break out of this festering shithole, shove the bitch who runs this place into a woodchipper, then be on my merry crusading way.”
“Hrrrn, dream on,” growled Croc, slithering deeper into his corner. “Just don’t be surprised if your enthusiasm dies off. This place will break you, one way or another.”
An alarm suddenly blared, prompting a pained growl from Croc before he began to submerge himself in the water. Raptor raised an eyebrow, unsure of what Croc was doing, “What’s that noise?”
“New mission, and it looks like they want one or both of us on it,” said Croc, closing his eyes as he braced for pain. “This is gonna hurt.”
“What’s gonna hur-urk!”
A strong torrent of electricity rippled through the water, crackling with violent energy as Raptor convulsed, the pain eliciting a scream so loud it threatened to tear his own vocal cords apart before he finally lost consciousness.
 
 
“Oh god, not again!”
Raptor’s eyes snapped open as Rick Flag gave him a good kick in the gut, forcing him to wake up as the soldier took a knee, keeping a close eye on him as he laid on the floor. Looking around, Raptor realized that he was in a locker room of some kind. Floyd Lawton was on the other side of the room, putting on his boots as if it was just another day on the job, while another man, unidentified, seemed to be slipping an orange cat themed costume over his body. Dante Ramon sat at one of the benches, looking almost tame compared to when Raptor last saw him and clad in a metallic purple outfit. Finally, there was Mitch Mayo, who was already dressed in his Condiment King outfit and sobbing in the corner of the room.
“Wakey wakey, buddy,” said Flag, jabbing at Raptor with the tip of his rifle, “You’re the last one to be delivered. Get up and get dressed, we’re moving out in ten minutes.”
Stepping back into one of the corners, Flag allowed Raptor to get up on his feet. Raptor shot Flag an almost animalistic glare of malice, but elected not to do anything more. He was painfully aware of the brain bomb in his cranium, and any sort of physical attack would be the end of him right away. Instead, Raptor turned to find his suit and his gauntlet Suyolak sitting on one of the benches. To his surprise, his raggedy old hood had been replaced completely by an orange and white shirt with no sleeves. His mask, originally worn out with borderline broken straps, had been fixed up to the point where it looked brand new. Best of all however was Suyolak, his beloved Suyolak.
The gauntlet, despite receiving some spit and shine, looked completely unaltered in design and purpose. Raptor picked the weapon up off the bench, sliding it over his right forearm before feeling the special mixture of chemicals Suyolak always had cooked up for him inject itself into his bloodstream. The cocktail instantly erased any mental turmoil Raptor had, stimulating his brain and allowing him to truly think clearly in a way he hadn’t been able to in the weeks he’d been in his cell.
“Enjoying the new gear?”
Kulikova’s voice echoed throughout the room as Raptor whirled around, attempting to find the origin point of her voice. As he looked around, thoroughly confused, he suddenly heard a finger tapping glass right above him. Glancing upward, Raptor spotted the Russian doctor in an observation room overlooking the area, joined by a couple of scientists and doctors as well as Amanda Waller herself.
“I appreciate the fact that you didn’t change much...” said Raptor, “Though I’m less enthused about the company you keep or the fact that you had your way with muscles around my spine.”
“Oh hush, it was standard procedure,” said Kulikova. “No need to get so worked up over it.”
“Hey!” piped Flag, getting Raptor’s attention before tapping his watch, “Tick tock, tick tock, buddy. Put your pants on so we can go!”
Raptor looked back up into the observation room, making eye contact with Waller. Her stare was blank, cold, unfeeling, but Raptor understood that underneath that facade was an unrelentingly cruel person. Unable to do anything else, Raptor simply settled for giving her an aggressive glare before moving to put the rest of his costume on. After slipping his mask over his head, Flag beckoned the group to move towards the helipad, allowing Lawton, who was most familiar with the overall layout of the prison, to take lead. He would lead them himself, but of course, there was the matter of the crying little ball of anxiety in the corner of the room.
“Mayo, get up,” ordered Flag, marching over to the little bastard and grabbing him by one of the hoses connecting his condiment tanks to the nozzle gauntlets on his forearms. “You can’t keep having a mental breakdown each time we have to go out. Man up and get out there.”
“I...I don’t…..I don’t want a repeat,” mumbled Mayo. “I don’t wanna feel like I’m drowning again...”
Flag rubbed the back of his head as he looked around unassuredly. Normally he would just pull him up by his bootstraps and tell Mayo to quit being a bitch, but Mayo’s a sensitive guy. Looking at his mental state right now, pushing him too hard could cause him to snap, and he wanted his squadmates in good shape for their mission. Groaning at the realization of what he had to do, Flag sighed, glancing around to make sure the squad was gone and glancing upward to make sure nobody was outwardly looking into the room from the observation area before moving to pat Mayo on the back.
“Listen, bud, I’m not gonna lie, your chances aren’t good, especially compared to your squadmates,” said Flag, “But you made it through the first one, and hell, that’s worth something. Maybe you’ll make it through this next one too. Regardless, just know that...well...I’ve got your back.”
Mayo, slowly but surely, began to stop crying, the flow of tears stemmed as he turned around to face Flag. Despite his emotional fit in which he threatened to fall apart, Mayo felt better knowing that at least one person seemed to be watching out for him. Turning around, Mayo reached out with his arms, attempting to get a hug out of Flag, but Flag simply backed away with an odd look on his face.
“I gave you a pep talk, I don’t do that often. I also don’t do hugs,” growled Flag. “Get your ass in gear, that’s all the pretty talk you’ll hear from me for the year.”
His eyes widening, Mayo quickly shuffled out of the room with haste, leaving Flag alone. As the soldier began to give his gear one final check, a patronizing laugh could be heard from above. Looking up, Flag spotted Kulikova teasingly tapping the glass of the observation room, “Tch… Softie.”
Flag growled, silently leaving the room in order to get Kulikova out of his sight. She was a hassle to deal with already, he’d rather have her out of his hair for a few hours at least. Besides, he had a mission to complete.
 
 
Dante’s helmet itched.
He hated this, the newly designed suit Belle Reve had cooked up for him during his initial stay there. His old suit may have just been a collection of scrap shards and pieces held together by his power, but it felt like his, like it was perfect for him. This? This strange collection of purple armor plates combined with an odd looking helmet he could barely see through? It all felt so unnatural, like it was designed to make him uncomfortable.
Suddenly, he felt a shove from behind as the man in the orange cat themed outfit pushed him along, throwing him out of his thoughts as Dante turned around, annoyed, “The fuck was that for?”
“Move it,” barked the man in the cat costume. “I want this mission to be done and over with sooner rather than later so I can finally be free of this goddamn shithole.”
Dante frowned, “How long have you been in here?”
“Five years,” said the man. “Now shut the fuck up and keep walking.”
As irritating as it was to be told off, Dante could empathize with this guy for wanting to get out as quickly as possible. This place had a habit of sucking hope out of your body and leaving nothing but a husk, and having already experienced the abuse inflicted by his captors, he would want out after five years of that too. The fact that each mission reduced one’s sentence meant that not everything was completely hopeless, but Dante chalked that up to giving inmates that small ray of hope that they’d actually get out and not serve Waller forever.
Without at least some light at the end of the tunnel, he could see a lot of people giving up instead of enduring.
As the squad finally stepped back out onto the helipad, the sun rising in the distance, Flag turned around to give everyone the mission briefing with his back to the orange hue.
“Alright everyone, here’s our deal for the day,” announced Flag, cracking his neck as he kept his weapon slung across his chest. “We’ve got a meta at the Mexico-American border roasting rednecks. Now I harbor as much love for trailer trash as the next guy, especially ones who also illegally cross national borders to try and commit some kind of wacko vigilante justice, but bodies are bodies. Waller wants this one in Task Force X’s custody by the end of the day.”
The squad members milled about uncomfortably, unsure of how to take the news. While many of them had been with the squad for years and have had experience in the operations with more debatable grounds for their legality, there were also plenty of others who were far greener. Some, like Mayo, seemed to catch on that speaking up was a bad idea, but others were far less wise.
“I didn’t know chasing illegal immigrants was worth your time, Flag,” said Raptor, verbally jabbing at Flag. “What? Aren’t the people inside the U.S. enough of a handful?”
“It doesn’t matter if this person lives in bumfuck Nevada or the Saharan fucking desert,” barked Flag. “I don’t wanna hear any more gibes from you, Raptor, not unless you want me to test Kulikova’s little brain bomb.”
Raptor snickered, deciding that at least for now it wasn’t worth it to keep punching above his weight like that. After being captured he’d been knocked down a peg, but now he needed to bide his time, wait for the perfect moment. For now, he needed to keep himself in check.
Unfortunately, someone else also hadn’t learned that lesson.
“Wait, so these guys died across the border and they crossed illegally?” said Dante. “Is that really enough of a justification for an American operation across national borders?”
“We’re a military branch with no accountability. Laws, international or not, are a non-factor.” said Flag. “If you have any more stupid questions you can refer to Blake.”
“Who?” asked Dante.
“Thomas Blake, Catman. The one who’ll be tracking our target today,” said Flag. “I think you can figure out the rest.”
Dante glanced back at the man in the orange suit and brown cat-cowl, looking like an off-brand Batman, who promptly growled back at Dante before turning away. Turning back towards Flag, Dante prepared to inquire more, only for Lawton’s hand to reach out and grab his shoulder.
“Don’t push him, ” said Lawton. “He might look like a joke, but he’s far from it.” Frustrated, Dante sighed, mentally telling himself to take a chill pill as Flag got onto the helicopter.
“Any other takers? Moronic inquiries? Shallow jabs?” said Flag, “Nothing? Good. Now let’s go do our jobs.”
 
 
What hit him first was the heat.
Lawton’s suit was built for combat. It could resist strikes from things as small as a knife and as large as a fifty cal sniper round. This, combined with the heavily insular nature of such a suit, meant that he could conserve his own body heat and keep on going in temperatures as low as absolute zero.
But in a place like Mexico? Forget it. Lawton might as well be trapped in a tuna can to cook.
As the helicopter roared over the border fence, it’s spinning blades kicking up dust as it touched down, the squad fanned out, covering as much ground as they could as the copter began to lift off again, leaving them behind so that they could get to work. The area was barren with the exception of a light initial layer of sand, lacking any kind of foliage due to the rocky geometry of the ground. As Lawton took in his surroundings, Flag trudged up an incline, reaching the top of a hill before whistling.
“Here we are,” said Flag, “The redneck roast.”
Four bodies laid on the ground in front of the squad, burnt to ash and barely recognizable. The sand around the ash was crystalized, a product of the intense heat that had barbequed the trespassers. Feeling the material crunch beneath his feet, Lawton watched as the squad gathered around the scene, inspecting every nook and cranny to make sure no detail was missed. The crystallization was widespread, so widespread that it stretched on for a good twenty or so meters.
“Jesus,” remarked Mayo, horror in his eyes as he gazed upon the gruesome sight, “you weren’t kidding when you said this was a roast.”
“Nah, this ain’t a roast,” said Raptor, making sure to step in the ashes and kick them around. “If this was a roast, I wouldn’t eat anything here. They charred everything.”
“Quit the chit chat,” barked Flag, who turned to Catman in order to address him. “Get to work, Blake. I want to pick up the trail before they get too far.”
Letting out an annoyed grunt, Blake did as he was told, trudging over to the bodies and kneeling down to inspect them. The ashes were well set in their spots, clumping to each other in a way that prevented them from simply spilling off into the wind. The dead have been this way for at least a few hours.
As Blake worked through the scene, Raptor pulled Deadshot aside. “He’s Gotham right? What’s his deal.”
Lawton watched the Catman comb through the ash, finding more crystallized glass, far denser than it was outside of the ash. Looking closer, Blake began to look for any kind of indentation in the glass, secondary fractures like what would be expected from footsteps.
“Rumour is Daddy abandoned him, Mommy abused him,” Floyd explained in a hushed tone, “So the guy runs off to Africa to hunt jungle cats. Then he gets attached, has a change of heart and starts hunting poachers instead, then it’s deforestors, politicians who are pro-pollution. Few run-ins with Batman later, and now he’s in the shit with us.!”
As the hunter continued to work at his task, Lawton continued to stroll over to one of the other bodies, squatting to inspect one of the heads of the victims. Underneath all of the burns and malformed flesh was likely a facial expression of pure terror, one that faced a massive inferno head on. Resisting the urge to poke at the damn thing, Lawton stood back up, taking a few steps back only to hear a crunch beneath his feet. Looking down, Lawton could pick out a red object with hints of blue, a strange thing that stood out in the sea of grey that was the ash. Reaching down and picking it up, Lawton brushed off the ash to find something he wasn’t expecting.
Despite being crushed in some places after being accidentally stepped on and melted down to the point where Lawton couldn’t tell who it was supposed to look like, the shape of the object made it clear that this was unmistakably an action figure. Inspecting it from multiple angles, Lawton hazarded that it was an old Flash toy. As he continued to look at it, Dante strolled up from behind Lawton, spotting the toy in his hand.
“What is that?” asked Dante.
“It’s a doll,” said Lawton, unsure of what to make of the item. “Or an action figure. Not sure how long it’s been here.”
Polaris raised his eyebrow, “What’s a toy doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” After a moment of thinking, his eyes widened, a realization occurring, “Wait, you don’t think...”
Confused, Lawton turned towards Dante, only for the magnetic villain to snatch the toy out of his hands, marching towards Flag in an angry manner. Lawton couldn’t tell what had rattled Dante so, but after a few seconds of connecting the dots, he realized what conclusion Dante had arrived at after seeing the toy.
“Dante, wait!” piped Lawton, shuffling towards his squadmate, “Leave it alone, it’s not worth-”
“Hey soldier-boy!” shouted Dante, furiously trudging towards his superior officer, “I think there are some things that need to be cleared up!”
“The fuck are you talking about, Dante?” piped Flag, “There’s nothing to discuss, go back to patrolling the area.”
“Oh I think this is something that’s worth talking about!” snapped Dante. The rest of the squadmates apart from Blake, who was too focused on his work, noticed the commotion, coming over to investigate.
“What’s going on?” asked Mayo, genuinely confused and nervous.
“Oh I’ll tell you what’s going on.” said Dante, “Flag told us we were tracking a target, but he left out the fact that we’re hunting a goddamn kid!”
Dante tossed the toy onto the ground in front of Flag, who simply stared at the object with a blank expression for a few seconds before looking up, perplexed. Raptor let out a tiny chuckle, unable to keep his inner thoughts inside.
“Well now this whole thing feels unnecessary!” joked Raptor, “If Waller wanted a Mexican kid caged, she could have just gotten the I.C.E. to do it.”
“Raptor, shut the fuck up,” snapped Flag, who promptly turned to Dante. “This doesn’t change anything. Kid or not, they’re still a meta and they’re still highly dangerous. They need to be contained.”
“Contained? What - to a place like Belle Reve?” said Dante, incredulous, “There’s no fucking way I’m going to have a part in taking a child to a place like that.”
“Last I checked, you don’t have a choice,” said Flag, his tone becoming more aggressive. “So why don’t you go back to patrolling the area like a good little soldier?”
Noticing the tension of the situation rapidly rising, Mayo attempted to step in, “Um, guys...Maybe now’s not the best time to-”
“Calm down? Hell no,” said Dante. “Because I’m not gonna let myself get dragged into kidnapping a kid.” Marching right up into Flag’s face, Dante looked him right in the eye, “I’d rather keep my goddamn dignity than follow orders with a smile.”
Suddenly, Flag struck out with his rifle, jabbing Dante in the throat with the muzzle and watching him choke and gag after the surprising attack. As he doubled over while clutching his neck, Flag leaned over, getting right up in Dante’s face.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re speaking to?!” yelled Flag, shouting his subordinate’s ear off. “Do you think I like to do this?! Do you think I’m content offing dictators and watching you fucking morons die over and over again?!”
Dante attempted to stumble away from Flag, but Flag refused to let up, hounding the metal themed villain, “Follow orders with a smile? Of course I don’t like this shit. I’d rather be anywhere but here!”
“T-Then why are you still working for her?!” mumbled Dante, barely getting the words out.
Flag stopped suddenly, the question catching him off guard. In the decade of service he’d dedicated to Task Force X, he’d asked himself that question again and again. Each time he came up with a different answer, but he didn’t want to share any at the moment.
“The reasons are mine and mine alone.” said Flag, “But know that what we’re doing right now, I don’t like it any more than you do. I just know that it has to be done.”
Dante, at a loss for words, could only stare back at Flag as he stepped off, giving Dante the room to get up on his feet again. The two men seemed to have cooled down a little after the initial tension, but the conflict between them was far from over. As Dante began to step away, taking a deep breath as he slowly disengaged from Flag, Raptor could only chuckle in the background.
“What’s so funny?” growled Flag, directing the question at Raptor as the villain simply responded with a shrug.
“I just know it needs to be done?” said Raptor, mimicking Flag’s voice before breaking into another hearty chuckle, “You keep telling yourself that buddy.”
“Hey, I’ve got a trail!”
The ethical arguments amongst the squad stopped as Catman called the rest of his teammates over to his position. As the five descended upon him, Blake pointed his finger at a spot in the crystalized sand where he’d cleared the ashes off, specifically an indentation that signified a footprint. As Blake moved his finger in a specific direction, the squad’s eyes followed, spotting a trail of indented footprints heading past the border fence and into Texas.
“Oh shit….” said Mayo, dread in his voice, “They crossed the border.”
“But where?” asked Dante, “What’s in that direction?”
“El Paso.” said Raptor, “It’s the biggest city on the border.”
“If she makes a scene anywhere near as bad as this,” said Lawton, “It could open up a whole new can of political worms.”
“So let’s get this done now,” said Flag, “Before more people get hurt.”
Shouldering his rifle, Flag barked an order at his subordinates to move out, trudging towards the border fence on their way to El Paso. They didn’t know what they were expecting to find there, but one thing was for sure.
This couldn’t end well.
 
Next Issue: El Paso - Coming November 4th
 

You know what the ironic thing is? My family raised me on stories of the Salem witch trials, witch hunters, and the Spanish Inquisition burning my ancestors alive. They told cautionary tales of those that hunt monsters being untrustworthy. Yet I still very much like and prefer humanity's company. However with their company I've learned that bullets hurt, and knives between the ribs hurt a lot more if they get twisted. I learned that a man will happily yell and scream that "You should go and fight off those beasts and risk your life," while they sit comfortably in safety. In short, hypocrites that lie, cheat, and steal. Meanwhile my siblings and I were told stories of friendly monsters, helpful demons, and great reward laying beyond the the great maw of the Abyss. While they've never caused me too much trouble, I get chills up my spine still thinking about them. I remember when I was about thirteen, my sisters had a few imps summoned that played with us. Sure they were creepy looking, but all they did was play and act mildly annoying. In my twenty something years of life I had too many evenings with death because I befriended or got close with my fellow humans. But the family I hate being around had always dragged me and all my siblings back together from the void through deals and profane rituals thanks to the little horrors hiding behind the curtains of our world.
​
But why am I telling you this? Hell I work at a magical carnival filled with strange VIP's that pay premium to hunt other carnival guests. Other carnival guests that might be from alternate realities if one is to believe in possibilities like the backrooms and such further stretches of our own reality. Surely another description of the whimsical VIP's would be much more delectable in terms of stories then hearing about the times I was stabbed, shot, and hung. Well let me tell you all the juicy details, and make it as best I can since this will be my last post on the subject. Grab yourselves some cheap carnival popcorn, and remember that putting in your two weeks is for suckers, oh and if you ever work night shift at a Carnival in New York City? Keep your head down, your nose clean, and try not to care about other people.
The evening started like any other. Woke up late in the day, had a cheap fast food breakfast, and headed to work with Red. Red had had a rough night. She was practically falling asleep at the wheel. So much so we had to stop and pick up a couple energy drinks. We ended up getting to our post, plopping down, and having one of the quietest nights ever. I kid you not it was basically abandoned of VIPs. We got maybe one single person, that same dude from the first post I made with this, who paid, gave banter, and left. After that it was just hours of nothing. I had thought Red must've had a nightmare last night or something because she barely spoke. We pretty much just had Netflix for a while before finally getting the call.
"Hello? Anyone on the line? Come on is anyone reading this?" A voice came over our radio.
Red hesitated. She reached for the radio but stopped. "You uh . . . You gonna get that?" I asked. She didn't give me a response so I picked up the radio. "Uh," I cleared my throat. "Hello there, Security post three here. What seems to be the problem?"
"Thank fuck, it's about time. Look we got an issue at Haunted House twenty one, it's not too far from your sector, can you check it out?" The voice asked again.
I looked at our map we had on our wall. That was easily like an hour walk. "Uh . . . Is there another security post closer? That's like an hour away from us?"
"Well no one else is picking up rookie, so how about you do the math on that one and tell me, huh?" The voice said with a more hostile tone.
Not gonna lie. I'm used to people fearing the family name in these sorts of otherworldly areas, so the fact this guy talked down to me was a breath of fresh air. Sure it was annoying, but hey it was new and made me feel like I was blending in. "Uh, one moment." I clicked off the radio and looked to Red. "Hey, anytime you wanna step in and help I'll happily tap out."
"Huh? What?" Red shook her head and blinked. "Oh right, sorry," she took the radio from my hand. "Peterson, is that you?"
"Hey there Red, how you doing?" He used her actual name of course, but not a lot of point in using it now.
"Peterson what is this? Is no one closer?" Red grumbled while pinching her forehead.
"I wish, but there's other incidents happening along the way. It's a Code Green, you know?" The man known as Peterson said. Once he said this I knew something was off. Red's body stiffened, her eyes glazed a bit, and she just stared off to the side. "Hello? Are you going to help me with the Code Green or not? Damn it I can't do this by myself you know." The Peterson guy said with an annoyed tone.
"Standby." Red said before leaning back in her chair.
"What's wrong? Code Green? What, is it a bad one? Did a guest do something?" I asked. I mean I'd seen the other codes they'd use. But Green was a new one.
"Yeah, yeah, Code green is a bit psychologically breaking. I uh . . . I still get nightmares on it." Red explained with a sigh.
"Ah. Well I mean if we got some chicken bones laying around, I always carry some powder on me. I can boost your courage." I offered more as a reflex than anything. Did I hate the occult? Oh yeah. Did I still use it regularly to make life easier? Hey, you wouldn't go anywhere without your phone, I don't go anywhere without a certain catalyst in the form of grey powder. It's basically the batteries for a ton of occult stuff, I can discuss more later in another post.
"You? Perform a ritual? Didn't it fuck up badly last time?" Red raised her brow.
"To be fair, I had just watched that Full Metal Alchemist anime and was really curious how badly something could go wrong. Gotta say, went better than expected." I shrugged.
"Yeah it was pretty cool I guess, but man Jimmy did not deserve that."
"Oh come on, he was on death row for a reason, if anything I think I deserved some good guy points for accidentally turning him inside out that many times. Hell you saw his victims. Plastic surgery is never gonna fix that." I shuddered. "And now plastic surgery won't fix him. It's like poetry, if only I could write poetry."
"You'd be a pretty shit poet." Red snickered.
"Roses are red, violets are blue.... Something something.... Fuck you too." I said before it got us both to laugh.
We waited for a minute before Red picked up the radio. "Hey Peterson we," she stopped again and looked down tiredly. "We're on our way. Thanks." She said before hanging up the radio and standing up. "You got your gear?"
"Yep. Gun, spare, taser, hell I'm just a few items short of being a super cop huh? I wonder if there's any cultist cops out there. Think it'd make a great movie?" I inquired as we headed towards our destination.
"The concept might be cool, but I feel like it's been done what with the shows of detectives bringing people back or talking with spirits and all that." Red shrugged.
"Eh, not good enough. All that CGI and hail Satan shit is for the weirdos. Real Results come from older entities. The Devil has too many people in his phone book nowadays. Plus they always make ghosts look so human. It's not like the real thing."
The banter continued for quite a while. It was a very good day. We haven't talked that much in ages, and it was incredibly refreshing. Then we got to the haunted house. There were not as many people around here, and I notated that. "Pretty dead around here huh?"
"Probably redirecting traffic. Usually if we're quick enough security will cut off certain areas and direct traffic away from an incident. Maybe that's why no one could respond to this." Red answered as she went up the stairs. The moment my foot touched that first step, something felt wrong. I got chills, sweat started running down my neck, and I felt my heart beat going up. It lasted for a minute and I looked around nervously. "You coming?" Red asked.
"Uh yeah, yeah, just got a weird feeling." I shook it off before heading up the stairs with her.
We went inside and there was this stench. It smelled like the sulfur you get from a Demon, and the stench of rotting flesh from a dead body. But since it was a horror house it was hard to tell. This particular house was a damn gore fest. At least it looked like it. The Haunted House was tailored to people who had a fear of gore, you had bloody mannequins and fake flesh thrown everywhere. But there had to be something real around because that smell was undeniable. I've worked with demons before, and generally if you don't bother them and you're not easy to tempt they won't waste their precious time on you. At least in my experience, but let's face it everyone is easy to tempt nowadays. If someone offered to pay off either your debt, loans, or a family members whatever, you'd take it in a heartbeat.
So we continued. We searched the first floor and found nothing, and then we moved to the basement. "The smell is worse down here." I coughed.
"Yeah," Red said, not even covering her nose as we found the entrance to the storage room. A quick use of our keys, and we got the door open. Immediately we get hit with the worse wave of rotting smells you've ever had. I've tended Charnel pits before when the family needed easy access to corpses, but this? This smelled somehow worse. We continued to investigate, but oddly enough there wasn't a single drop of blood, a corpse, nothing. I couldn't help but continue to look over my shoulder. Something was watching us, but Red was somehow so calm. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, my heart kept pounding, and I felt more anxious than I had in ages.
"Is a code green supposed to make you anxious? I feel like I'm gonna go green myself here." I joked as Red was focused on looking through a few papers. "Come on, nothing?"
"Look at this." Red held up some paper. "This seem like anything you know?"
Clearly my comedy genius wasn't enjoyed so I went to check. "Oh that's not good." I said as she handed me the papers. You had your usual spooky symbols drawn in lambs blood for maximum effect. It was even sprinkled with some kinda hoodoo powder mixed in. "Now that's a bad one." I nodded.
"Hey, anytime for those of us that flunked creepy occult 101." Red gestured for me to continue.
"Can't say for certain, but it's definitely a gate. For what? I don't know. Every otherworldly creature and their wacky mother has their own unique gate symbol. The animal skull drawn here at the top, fairly certain it's.... Probably a spirit? No pentagram so no Demon. Which is weird considering the smell of sulfur everywhere. There's nothing here that would cause anxiety though, nor anything binding. Whatever it is it might've already fled to the rest of the park." That's what I'd hope for at least. You can't gun down a spirit or a Demon, but then of course a loud thump simply had to happen up stairs.
"Is it bullet proof?" Red asked.
"Are you seriously asking me if, unlike the crazy cultist or the satyr, or other FLESHY things in this park, a spirit can be shot?" I said with literally as much emphasis as humanly possible on the word fleshy.
"I mean . . . . Yes?" She raised her brow, "I don't know, but we still need to check it out. If it made that loud of a noise it's probably physical."
"We better get hazard pay for this," I grumbled before following her up the stairs. We continued to the second floor, finding nothing. Then to the third, then the fourth. This haunted house for it's part was a lot bigger on the inside than the outside. Eventually we made our way up to the seventh and final floor, which was mostly used by staff. Guns drawn, we slowly crept in before hearing a sickening crunching sound. We turned a corner and saw a body down the hall in another room just as the noise stopped. It looked like the body was being snacked on but it was hard to tell in the low light that came from the windows near it. "See anything?" I whispered. She didn't answer me. "Hello? Hey now is not the time to space out." I said as my heart started pounding again. Something was wrong here, and I was not gonna die here. "Hey," I nudged her out of whatever trance she was in.
"No. I don't see anything. Move up and check it out, I got your back." Red finally ordered.
Well great, I thought to myself. I guess I'm the bait. I've gone with Undertakers before when they hunt dangerous creatures of the dark, and I've been the bait before. I really hate it, but I wasn't exactly gun smart, so at least I knew Red would have my back. I slowly crept up, staying low and listening for any sort of sound that would cause me to leap back in order to not see what my insides look like again. Oddly enough, there was nothing. The smell was there again, seemingly coming from that body ahead of me, and still I pushed forward bit by bit. At one point my foot creaked on the wooden floor panel and I froze for nearly five minutes. Then again slowly I moved forward.
Finally I reach the body. There wasn't anything else in this room with me, save for a couple abandoned props and dust. The windows were kinda pretty and I could see the Carnival go on for miles. I reached for the body when I noticed something strange. I grabbed the arm and it was stiff as a board. Rigor mortis couldn't have set in immediately because the blood was still fresh. At least it looked fresh. I turned the body over and the head rolled towards me, but it didn't have flesh. It wasn't even real. It was a mannequin. "What the hell is this? Is someone playing a joke on us? Red it's just a-" a click. I turned to look back and see the door shut, Red leaning against it. "What? Something follow us?" I questioned, still holding the pistol they'd given me as my grip tightened.
"Shush," She hushed me. Again my heart wouldn't stop. Her head was hung low and she barely made a sound.
I waited, and waited, and waited. Seriously if I had to wait any longer I was fairly certain I'd go mad. "Well?" I whispered. Red looked up at me, and I think I put the pieces together. "There's no . . . Code Green."
She raised her gun and aimed it right at me. "We are green.... For termination of your employment."
"Red?" She wasn't going to shoot me. Red was one of my best friends, I could talk my way out of this.
"We don't hire highly Empathetic people, why did you have to ask about hunters . . . Damn it Lost. You should've kept your mouth shut. When I told people you were mine, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this." The familiar click of a safety being turned off.
"Hey whoa, calm down I'm sure there was a misunderstanding, it was just questions I wasn't," I stopped. Her eyes were glassy and devoid of anything. She wasn't going to listen, and part of me understood. "Red come on, it was just questions, I'm sure I can explain it to the boss. Put the damn gun down."
"Code Green is only authorized by the boss." She said coldly. "It's you or me . . . And I got too much to pay off back home. People rely on me."
"Red come on, I can just walk away, who the hell am I going to tell about this place huh? No one!"
"Undertakers will come." She continued. "For what it's worth Lost, I really did enjoy our time together. See ya around"
"Red, we can leave together we-" Bang. Bang. Bang. Finally a fourth bang. These weren't warning shots either. One through the liver, one in the left lung, one through the stomach, and another I'm pretty sure through the heart. I felt the glass shatter behind me. I'm not exactly athletic or bulky, so the shots had me stumbling back until I broke through the window. Movies never really get the pain of a gunshot right, it's always screaming and yelling when really that initial shock really just takes the wind out of you, especially with a bullet through the lungs.
Falling too. Time always seems to go so slow when falling to your death. Seven stories passes by in seconds, but feels like seven hours at least. Falling, right after burning or drowning, has gotta be one of my top five worst ways to die. You always feel the initial shock right as you hit the ground, and if you think a normal fall hurts, a lethal fall hurts like hell. Here I was, falling seven stories, and when I looked up I saw Red looking down at me with those cold dead eyes. She cared, I could tell, but she did what any animal with a brain would do when faced with an impossible situation. Shut down and self-preserve. I admired that. Hell I respected it.
What? Did you think this was going to be like a fairy tale where the two main characters end up running away together from the big bad monster? I can at least give you this, reader, I definitely fell in love when I saw those eyes void of anything, that was someone that knew how to survive. But it's like they said, they hired people just empathetic enough to keep the peace but not enough to care when someone else kicks the bucket. Part of me kinda felt it would end like this. After all, I wanted to pretend like I still had humanity in a place that hunted humans for food and sport. Not exactly my best survival strategy. On one side, I was happy I'd get some peace and quiet for a while. On the other side I was curious when my brother would get here like he said he would. Would the park staff get rid of my body so I couldn't come back? The boss knew my family so it probably knew to dispose of the corpse. But would they? Well obviously if they did that I wouldn't be typing this now would I?
In the distance as I fell, I saw the familiar green and blue unbuttoned plaid shirt and that unbelievably stupid tan colored cowboy hat that only my older brother would wear. I realize now I was kinda falling to my death, but I really couldn't stop thinking about how stupid this guy looked. I mean he regularly stayed out all night with new girlfriends so somehow the audacity of this man's dress code got him somewhere. Everyone wants the last thing they see before kicking the bucket to be a pretty sight. What'd I have? A cheap carnival, my brother's Geneva convention violation of a dress code, or my killer. Sure Red was pretty, but even I don't want the last thing I see to be my killer looking down on me. Why not spice it up and work with what we got?
"Love you too, you bitch." I said hoping she'd read my lips. She did. Even with those cold dead eyes, I saw a smirk right before hitting the ground. That familiar pain, shock, the loss of breath and then nothing.
​
You ever sit in a waiting room? You just kinda sit there and wait for something and it's kinda suspenseful. Whether it's because you're waiting on someone, waiting on test results, or something else, you know what I mean right? That feeling of waiting and curiosity. What's going to happen? Am I kicking the bucket? Is my brother going to save my body? Will I meet someone famous by chance here in whatever limbo bullshit this is? I didn't exactly have a deck of cards or anything so it was a pretty boring wait. If he did bring me back, he better make sure the bullets are out, there's nothing worse than waking up with bullets still in you. It hurts like crazy.
Next thing I know, I'm waking up in my bedroom back home. The familiar sights of posters of Star Trek, Dragon ball, my computer, and a couple bookshelves. My computer is already on and running, and I have a headache to end all headaches. It took me a minute to fully grasp what was happening, but then that breath of life came to me again. "Hey there baby brother." My older brother said as he stood up from where he sat.
"I hate falling. . . Sky diving is off my bucket list." I grumbled.
"Well clean up that mess when you get the chance, then go pick through whatever dinner is left in the kitchen downstairs." He said before gesturing behind him at a large open space of my room. There was the body of some schmuck that looked like it'd gone splat, surrounded by several candles and occult symbols.
"You couldn't let me sleep in a little longer?" I grumbled.
"I couldn't find the son of a bitch that had you splattered on the ground. Consider that the extent of my generosity since I know you hate when I do that." He scoffed. "Now clean up." He got up and headed for the door. "Mom and Dad wanna know what happened. I'll let you have that honor."
"Gee, am I not the luckiest?" I rolled my eyes. He left after that and I got up to wash my face in the sink I had in my room. A weird thing to have in a personal bedroom yeah, but we had this bit of open space in all our rooms for practices, and a sink helped keep things clean. I looked in the mirror above the sink to assess the damage. My brother dresses like a clown, but he's smart. I had a new pair of green eyes, my skull got morphed a bit and honestly looked pretty handsome. I had a new scar under my left eye now, and the hair was a bit lighter than my previous brown. Muscle mass was a bit denser, and I felt the lungs working fine. Hell all the internals felt great. Whoever my brother let here next to me, they had some decent replacement parts. I felt better than ever.
Winter is almost here, so maybe I'll find something else to do in the world. Might take some time to help the Family as payment for saving me again. I know of a library used by my kind that's hiring, and they don't kill their employees, so maybe that? I guess you'll find out in my next series of stories. But before anything else, I figured since my computer was on, might as well wrap up the story of my time at The Carnival. With a new face, no one will remember me, which is unfortunate, I was fond of my old face. Oh well. Stay safe out there everyone, I'll let you know what happens, I'm rather enjoying talking about myself through stories. Goodnight.
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Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/hfuury/i_decided_to_take_a_summer_job_with_a_friend_as/ Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/hgihql/my_summer_as_a_security_guard_for_a_disturbing/ Part 3:
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/hqad1x/my_summer_as_a_security_guard_for_a_disturbing/

Synopsis:
A young woman finds herself dead and is given the chance to reincarnate in another world with cheat-like magic powers. She accepts, only to find that the world treats magic users the same way ours did— by hunting them down and killing them for heresy.
My name is MELAS?! As in Salem backwards? Oh my God, and my mother is a Witch. I am SO going to be burned at the stake!
[Previous Chapter] | [Chapter 1] | [Cover Art] | [RoyalRoad Index and Synopsis] | [Patreon] | Tags: Isekai/Reincarnation, Action, Adventure, Fantasy, Weak-To-Strong Protagonist, Female Protagonist
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“I can’t believe it,” Onia sighed.
“I don’t like this either, but you don’t hear me complaining about it,” Adrian said, ignoring the glare the noble girl gave him.
“It’s bad enough that I get grouped up with the half breed”— Onia gestured at the Half Elf boy standing off to the side— “but I have to deal with both commoners too?” She turned to the other noble in their group— a girl with pale green eyes and brown hair with orange streaks— and spoke to her, “Ilyse, please tell me I’m having a nightmare.”
“Unfortunately not, Lady Onia. If you were, I’m afraid to tell you that I am experiencing it as well.”
Adrian was about to retort, but Alice stepped in front of him and spoke quickly, “Um, Lady Onia, Lady Ilyse, I know we’ve had our differences. But why don’t we put it all behind us for today. Mr Lucas said it’s too dangerous for us to work alone, especially for our first time facing Monsters. That’s why we’re in our groups.”
“Dangerous?” the pink haired girl snorted. “Maybe for commoners like you who have never seen a Monster in their life. I’ve seen Kobolds, and I’ve killed them too. This is hardly a new experience for me.”
Adrian could not contain his annoyance any longer. They had been together for a total of 15 minutes, and he finally had enough. “I am so sorry that we had to be in the same group as you, Lady Onia. But unlike your maids and butlers who babysit you when your daddy brings you hunting, we won’t help you if you’re being killed by a pack of Monsters.”
Onia paused. She eyed the boy with cold eyes. “Don’t think too highly of yourself just because you cheated to beat me, Adrian,” she said dangerously. “I could have you and your girlfriend killed and nobody would be any the wiser.”
Alice visibly paled, but Adrian just met her gaze. “Why don’t you just do it? Maybe then I’d be spared from seeing your reptilian-like face every single day.”
The noble girl walked up to Adrian, and the boy just folded her arms. Ilyse tried to pull her back. “Lady Onia, it’s not worth it—”
But she just continued on. “Maybe I will,” she said, finally stopping right in front of him. “It’d be a service to every student in the Academy to be rid of you two.”
“Adrian, I think that’s enough,” Alice quickly spoke out, trying to stop the boy from saying anything else. However, he just shook his head.
“No, Alice. There’s no reason to be afraid of her. She’s just a rich, spoiled brat who never had to work a day in her life. I wouldn’t be surprised if they paid the Academy just to accept someone as talentless as her.”
“You know nothing about me.” Onia’s eyes flashed, fury blazing in her pupils.
“I know enough—”
“Guys,” a voice cut Adrian off. It was neither Alice nor Ilyse who spoke, but instead it was the other boy in their group, Faizan. “Look,” the Half Elf said, “there’s one.”
Adrian looked at what he was pointing at. It was a small, almost-hidden, pale green plant underneath a rock. It was a Pixie Bud.
The purpose of the field trip was simple: the class had been split up into nearly dozen groups to go explore the Defenor Forest. They were to observe the local wildlife and write a report on them, hunt down any Monsters in the area to help cull their population from growing too large, as well as gather any herbs or plants that could be used for Alchemy. A Pixie Bud was probably one of the most important of such ingredients.
Alice walked over to the Half Elf and peered over at the plant. “Why’s there only one?” she asked. “Aren’t they supposed to come in clusters?”
“They are,” Faizan said, carefully divoting the dirt below the Pixie Bud. He placed it into his basket and turned to the blonde girl. “They don’t grow too close to each other because of how each one affects the flora around it. That’s why each Pixie Bud is so rich in mana. But there should be more in the area, we just have to search for it.”
Onia huffed, flipping her hair— currently tied into a braid— back. “You go ahead and do that, half breed. Ensure every Pixie Bud around here is gathered. Ilyse and I will return in an hour to check on your progress.”
“Where are you going?” Adrian narrowed his eyes. He would have preferred it if the noble girl were gone since he did not have to interact with her, but he was not going to let her slack off while they did all the work. “Don’t think we’ll do your work for you, Onia.”
She frowned at the use of her name without any title, but did not comment on it. “Why, commoner, I’m being efficient. We’ll divide up the work— you three can stay here and do this boring task, while I will find us some Kobolds to kill. It’s not like you’ll be of any help regardless, so try and make yourself useful here.”
Adrian held himself back from snapping at her. “Fine,” he said. “Go ahead and get yourself injured by Monsters. But when Mr Lucas asks us why we weren’t there to help you, don’t go laying the blame on us.”
Onia scoffed. “I wouldn’t even think of it. If something were too much for me to handle, I sincerely doubt your presence would make any difference.” With that said, she turned around and walked away. “Come on, Ilyse.”
“Yes, Lady Onia.” The other noble girl hurried after her. Adrian watched them go, opting not to say anything.
“Are you sure we should just let them leave?” Alice asked, a worried look on her face.
Adrian hesitated. He stared at the two figures as they disappeared behind a thicket. Then he turned back to Alice. “Yes,” he said. “The worst thing that could happen is we get into trouble for breaking off into smaller groups.”
The girl looked unconvinced, but she didn’t argue. “If you say so…”
​

​
“I think that’s all of it,” the Half Elf boy said, slumping over.
“Thanks, Faizan.” Adrian placed a hand on his shoulder. “We couldn’t have finished up so quickly without you.”
Faizan looked unbothered by Adrian’s casual use of his name. Adrian knew his family was from a lower noble rank— a Baron, if Adrian remembered correctly. But he would have thought that the other boy would have been at least slightly concerned with formality.
Adrian didn’t mind it; it was better for him that way. He did not enjoy using titles, but he would have done so if Faizan requested it— he liked the Half Elf enough that he would do that for him.
“How did you know where to find all the Pixie Buds were?” Alice asked, looking amazed. “I’d have thought it would take an hour or more to find as many as we did.”
“My… mother taught me,” Faizan said, hesitantly. “She’s an Elf, and she was born in Ghab-Ha. So she’s good with nature. But I’m not— compared to real Elves my age, I’m nothing.”
Adrian frowned. Faizan had to have been around 20 years old from what he could gather, although the other boy was only slightly taller and more mature looking than him. That was young for an Elf, but slightly older for a Half Elf. Regardless, Faizan should still have been considered a child who was only starting to hit puberty. As far as Adrian knew, Faizan seemed rather talented and knowledgeable.
“It’s a compliment,” Adrian said, “don’t put yourself down.” He gave the other boy as reassuring of a smile he could give, and gestured toward the baskets full of Pixie Buds and a handful of other ingredients that could be used for Alchemy or Herbalism. “Let’s just go bring this back. Then we can find something to observe and write about while we still have time.”
“R-right,” Faizan said, nodding.
The three children began heading back to the large clearing near Defenor Forest’s exit. The forest had been developed because of the resources it provided to Xanderia, as well as its usefulness serving as a recreational and training area, which meant there were roads and small paths guided alongside signs throughout the place. Adrian, Alice, and Faizan simply followed one such pathway back to where they came from.
“Hey,” Alice said urgently, tugging at Adrian’s shirt, “what’s that?”
Adrian blinked. The girl was pointing at something off road at a distance— stalking behind some bushes and trees. It was…
“A Kobold? No— they’re supposed to be bipedal, although they usually walk around on all fours. But that’s not a Kobold.” Adrian felt for the weapon hanging around his waist. It was not a training sword with a dulled edge— they were here to kill Monsters. They had been trained to use proper weapons, and this was a test to see how well they could actually wield them.
“It’s a wolf,” Faizan said, not even squinting. Adrian could barely even make out the animal, but the Half Elf’s superior vision let him see objects almost twice as far as a regular Human. “A Dyre Wolf, to be specific. They’re mostly docile Monsters, unless they’re hungry. In which case, we should avoid them at any cost. They’re as dangerous as a pack of Kobolds. Although by the looks of it, that one seems to have already found its prey.”
Adrian leaned over to look at where the other boy was pointing. True enough, the Dyre Wolf seemed to be tracking something. It was following a pair of Kobolds, minding their own business.
“Should we tell Mr Lucas about this?” Alice asked. “Since they’re dangerous and all.”
“No,” Adrian said, shaking his head. “A single Dyre Wolf is much of a problem by itself. Although I didn’t think they were native to this area. I always thought Crymson Wolves were more the type of Monster canines that were near Xanderia.” He paused, thinking about it for a moment. “But it doesn’t matter, we can just leave it be.”
Alice nodded. “That sounds good to me,” she concurred. “If this wolf is trespassing in the territory of other wolves, they’ll take care of it. Let nature deal with nature.”
Faizan didn’t disagree either. “I guess that makes sense,” he said. So with the group in agreement, they continued back to where Lucas and Nero were waiting.
Their supervisors were waiting under an open tent. They were both in full plate armor, but the Holy Knight had mana crystals adorned on various parts of his armor, unlike the teacher who only had three small mana crystals on his armor that Adrian could see.
“Back so soon?” Nero asked, as the three students approached them. “Where’s the rest of your group?”
“We decided to split up. Divvy up the work so we can get done faster,” Adrian explained. “Onia and Ilyse wanted to deal with the Kobolds, so we’re doing the rest of the work.”
Lucas grunted in response. “So you’ve collected Pixie Buds, I see.”
“Yes,” Alice said, showing the ingredients in her basket. “And we also found some Sun Spores, Vetus Grass, and—”
The teacher waved a hand and cut her off. “That’s good enough for me,” he said. “Have you chosen your research subject yet?”
“N-no,” Faizan answered truthfully, and glanced at his two companions. “But I was thinking— if my group doesn’t mind— I wanted to inspect the Elysian Trees. Defenor Forest is the only place outside of Ghab-Ha where they’re fully preserved, and I’m… interested in them.”
“I’m fine with it,” Adrian said nonchalantly.
Alice nodded in agreement. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do it.”
“There you go,” Lucas said, shooing them away. “Just make sure you make actual observations about them— like the special properties of their wood or how their leaves seem to produce mana into the air. Don’t just write about what you’re interested in, and cover as much as you can in your paper.”
“Yes, Mr Lucas,” the three students chorused.
They left their baskets with the teacher, before heading off. They were graded by the ingredients they brought back, and Adrian was certain they gathered enough to get the highest grade— a Distinction. Once the field trip was over, all the ingredients would be equally divided amongst all students for their Alchemy class next week.
“So,” Adrian said, breaking the silence, “where are these Elysian Trees at?”
“You mean you don’t know what they look like?” Alice turned to Adrian in surprise. “Have you never seen one, ever?”
“Uh, nope.” Adrian scratched the back of his head. “Is that something I should know?”
Alice just stared at him for a moment, then she blinked as a moment of realization sunk in. “I forget you’re from Vitae sometimes,” she said, resting her palm on her forehead. “Elysian Trees don’t exist on that side of the world, right?”
“No.” Adrian first heard about them when Walden mentioned them in one of his lessons back in Villamcreek. However, he knew nothing about them beyond bare bits of information— they would only come up in a third year elective, so he had no reason to study them. “What’s so special about these trees?” Adrian asked.
“Well, first things first is that Elysian Trees produce mana,” Alice said, wagging a finger. “Sure, it’s minuscule in amount, but we have evidence that they do create mana.
“Furthermore, they are considered sacred by the Elves. The Great Hero Xander planted the first seed of the Elysian Tree after the Demon Lord was defeated. He said it was bestowed upon him by the Goddess as a gift for his second wife, the Elf Princess Qabul, when she announced that she was pregnant with his child.
“Each tree takes around two decades to fully mature, and they don’t produce many seeds, making them incredibly rare. And since they aren’t officially recognized as something ‘holy’ by the Church, many rich nobles cut them down to use their incredibly strong bark as a building or crafting material.”
“It’s terrible,” Faizan finally spoke out, picking up where Alice left off. “The only reason why all the trees haven’t been chopped down yet is because we— I mean, the Elves— are preserving and growing them.” He paused, eyeing something in the distance, then added, “Plus, they’re massive.” The Half Elf boy pointed up, towards the sky.
Adrian turned his gaze heavenward, and he felt his breath caught in his throat. “That’s an Elysian Tree?!” he exclaimed.
The boy was staring up above the canopy of trees, at a protrusion that jutted out of the treetop like a hill in the distance. Except, it was not a hill— it was a gigantic tree.
The Elysian Tree rose up, far above the rest of the Defenor Forest, reaching out for the clouds up above. There were a few dozen of them, and each had to be at least 500 feet tall. Their trunks were 50 feet in diameter at their thickest; it was not the widest tree proportional to their size, but Adrian could not help uttering an oath, “Sacred piss, you weren’t kidding. Those are massive.”
“They are,” Faizan said, a hint of pride showing on his face. “And Ghab-Ha has hundreds of them.”
“What’s so special about their wood?” Adrian asked. “Why would anyone want to cut them down?” The boy was pretty sure felling a single one of those trees was a hazard to whoever was given that job.
“It’s because of their wood,” Alice piped up. “It’s called wisened wood because of what happens to them once the tree dies. It becomes harder than what it already is, and you don’t even have to dry the wood— they simply don’t decompose. Or if they do, we haven’t seen it happen yet.”
“They’re also fireproof,” Faizan added. “Which makes disposing of fallen Elysian Trees incredibly difficult. And that’s not including all the work required cleaning the other trees crushed by the fall.”
Adrian was still staring at the enormous trees in the distance. He could not see them as clearly above the treetops now that they were closer, but the image of the Elysian Trees was burned into his mind. Then a thought crossed his mind.
“If we know all that, what are we even doing observing it?”
“Well, there’s a difference between what we read in books and actually seeing it for ourselves. We want to compare the information in our notes with the preconception we have, as well as observe how the Elysian Trees interact with the wildlife in the area,” Alice explained, her blue eyes sparkling with even more life than usual.
“You really like researching these types of things, huh?” Adrian remarked, and the girl blushed. “You seem even more excited for this than Faizan.”
“Hehe…”
Faizan glanced between the two of them. “H-hey,” he started, “are you two—” He never got to finish.
A rustling of the bushes interrupted the Half Elf boy. The three students tensed.
“Monster—”
And a figure burst out from behind the leaves. Ilyse ran out at them, visibly exhausted, heaving with labored breath. She was injured, but no terribly so, however that was enough to instill panic into the three children.
“Lady Ilyse, what happened?” Alice rushed to the girl, and practically caught her from falling over. “Where’s Lady Onia?!”
“You— where were you?” she snapped. “You weren’t where we left you! This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t leave!”
“Calm down, Ilyse,” Adrian said, his words not matching his panicked voice. “What happened? Explain.”
“Lady Onia— she’s in trouble. We need to get Mr Lucas! Get Sir Nero to save her!” The noble girl tried to push past the group, but she could barely even stand by herself. She almost collapsed, letting out a whimper. Finally, she gave up, and looked all three of her group mates in the eyes. “A Werewolf attacked us. She bought time to save me. Please, she might still be alive.”
Adrian’s eyes widened. A Werewolf? But how—
It was not the time for questions. Adrian had been raised by a man who was experienced with avoiding Monsters when out hunting in the wilderness. The boy learned to react fast when such things happened.
“Faizan,” he said, bringing the Half Elf boy out of his stupor. “Go get the adults. Now.”
Adrian did not have to say it twice. Faizan immediately took off in a run, not even wasting a single second to ask questions. Adrian then turned to Alice.
“You stay here with Ilyse. She can’t walk. Protect her in case any stray Kobold or wild animal decides to attack her.”
“What are you going to do?” the girl asked, staring at him with fear in her eyes.
“I’ll find Onia. Try and buy her some time until the adults arrive,” he said, voice final. He faced Ilyse. “You guys wait here for when Faizan returns with Mr Lucas and Sir Nero. Direct them to where Onia is.” He hesitated, and looked over to his right. “You said you were attacked back where we were collecting those Pixie Buds, right?”
“Y-yes,” Ilyse answered, pointing at the direction he was facing. “But you can’t go, you’ll die—”
Adrian ignored her. He took off, running through the trees, straight for Onia— his bully. A bratty noble girl he hated.
Why was he doing this? Should he not have hoped she somehow died from this? It would be a boon to his time in Xander’s Academy if she were gone for good.
Except, there was a reason why he ran to help Onia. It was a simple reason— which did not require any explanation. It was this: Adrian was not a psychopath.
That was all.
So Adrian ran straight into danger. His mind was racing as his legs carried him as fast as it could through the uneven terrain, and around the obstacles in his path.
The Dyre Wolf, he thought. It’s the Dyre Wolf!
It had never been a Dyre Wolf. It was a Werewolf the entire time. That was what Werewolves did— Adrian read it in a bestiary; Werewolves disguised themselves as a prey to a predator— such as Dyre Wolves to Crymson Wolves— to draw out said predators. Then, they would catch their prey unaware, by transforming into their real forms: a large, seven foot tall wolf-like creature with claws longer than knives and fangs as numerous as a shark’s teeth.
There was no way Onia could slay such a beast. She was going to die, and Adrian could not let that happen. He had failed at saving someone once. From a Chimera. And she had been forced to save him instead.
Adrian knew he could not kill a Werewolf. That was why he had sent Faizan to get Nero or Lucas. They could save Onia. And Faizan, being part Elf, could run the fastest out of all four of the children that were there at the moment. But they could be too late, which was why Adrian was doing this.
He found himself back where he last saw Onia. It looked like there had been a battle here. Broken branches and destroyed bushes and—-
Blood.
Adrian’s heart stopped. But there was no body. Onia could still be alive. He saw the blood leaving what seemed to be a trail, and he quickly followed it.
The boy followed it until he saw a shape in the distance. He heard the clash of claws against steel, and watched as Onia flew backwards into a tree. Her shield was knocked aside from the hit, and her sword was nowhere to be seen. The Werewolf loomed over the noble girl as her face visibly paled, even from a distance. It raised its claw—
And a bolt of energy struck its side.
“Over here, you stupid Monster!”
The Werewolf spun around, assessing the new threat.
Adrian was not holding a stun gun. This was not a duel, his weapon was real and carried with it a force stronger than even a crossbow. Xander’s Academy was a rich institution; Adrian knew this pistol he had was better than his dad’s pistol. Yet, the Werewolf looked even less hurt than the Chimera was from his shots.
Adrian drew his sword, firing more bolts of energy at the Monster. The Werewolf struck its hand through the air, blocking the attacks with its claws. Adrian tried racing around it— circling it— as he continued shooting as many bullets as he could.
The Werewolf was hit by a few more bullets before it decided Adrian was another easy target. It charged the boy, running on two legs as it swung its arms at him. Adrian just barely ducked under the first swing. He quickly countered with his own stab at the Monster’s legs, but he barely cut through its flesh. He practically only gave the beast a haircut!
Adrian had to bring his sword up to block the second attack. The force of the blow sent Adrian stumbling backwards. It followed up with another strike, and Adrian parried again. This time, the boy went flying and crashed into some bushes.
He tried to pick himself up. He was bleeding and bruised in a few places. The Werewolf was charging at him, now on all four legs. He fired another shot as it came closer, and rolled out of the way of the frenzied attack.
Adrian steadied himself for just a moment as the Werewolf turned back around. It was too close. He was going to die unless someone came in now to save him. Or unless he felled the beast by himself.
But he could not do that. He could not even hurt the Monster—
The boy paused, as he remembered Melas. He remembered an explosion, and blood flying through the air. It was a dangerous tactic, one that nearly got the girl killed. But it worked.
Adrian felt himself touching the mana crystal in his gun. He did not exert any force over the mana just yet, however he was considering it. The Werewolf ran at him again, and he hesitated.
No, I have to do this!
Adrian brough the pistol up. The mana crystal flashing. It glowed, as the boy pushed at the mana with all of his strength.
But nothing happened.
What? Why—
The Werewolf reached the boy. It brought its claws down at him, and he closed his eyes. This was how he died. He wondered what would happen to Alice— he hoped she wouldn’t blame herself for his death. And he never even got to see Melas again.
There was a yelp. Adrian opened his eyes and saw Nero standing in front of him. The Werewolf was backed up, a large gash opened up on its chest.
“Well then, it seems like I came just in time,” the Holy Knight said, grinning.
The Werewolf howled, clasping at its chest. It charged the man that just injured it, and he easily sidestepped the attack. Nero swung at its legs, his sword easily cutting through its thick skin.
“Come, now. Is that all you got?” Nero taunted the creature.
It leapt back, now staring warily at the Holy Knight Captain. Adrian stared in awe as the man easily countered another attack. And another. Then, the Werewolf finally had enough. The Monster reverted back to a wolf— a smaller wolf than a Dyre Wolf— and tried to flee. But Nero just laughed.
“You’re not going to escape!”
With that said, the black haired man swung his sword at the escaping Monster from a distance. A red blade of energy flashed through the air, and sliced the Werewolf in half. It fell, dead.
“Amazing,” Adrian breathed the word.
The Holy Knight slowly sheathed his blade, and lifted his visor up. He turned to Adrian, then to Onia. Adrian saw as Lucas approached with Faizan, Alice, and Ilyse in the distance. They rushed to the injured girl, and the teacher quickly began applying a healing potion on her wounds.
“You children are more trouble than I thought you for,” Nero said, grabbing the boy’s attention. “Trying to face a Werewolf by yourself is a fool’s move already. And yet, you took it a step further and tried to destabilize your weapon’s mana crystal to explode it. You’re fortunate that all of the Academy’s weapons are made with precautions to prevent an accident like that from happening. It’s a dangerously foolish act, one that defeats the purpose of this field trip, enough to give you a failing grade.”
Adrian opened his mouth to protest.
“But,” Nero cut him off, raising a finger. “You did so to protect your friends. And for that, I’d say it’s worth a Distinction, no?”
The boy paused, staring at the Holy Knight for a moment. Then he spoke out, “Onia’s not my friend.”
“But you still tried to save her regardless.”
“I—”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. I am simply stating what I see.” Nero flashed his charming smile, then walked away from Adrian to the others. The boy frowned, but didn’t say anything.
​

​
After Adrian was healed up as well and the group returned back to the main clearing of Defenor Forest, they had to cut the field trip short, out of fear that there were more Werewolves in the area.
Alice was clinging on to Adrian, not letting go of his arm. “You had me worried sick, you know? I thought you were going to get yourself killed!”
“I’m fine now,” Adrian said. “So please, let go of me—”
The boy paused, as Onia came up to them. Alice immediately straightened, and turned to the noble girl. “L-lady Onia,” she said, not meeting the other girl’s eyes. “Are you alright? We’re so sorry about what happened—”
“Why did you save me?” she asked, ignoring the blonde girl.
Adrian eyed the noble girl. He turned to Alice, standing uncertainly to the side, then back to Onia. He took a deep breath, and spoke, “Don’t ignore Alice.”
“What?”
“You heard what I said,” Adrian replied, not masking his irritation with her. “You know, Onia, I don’t like you. Despite what Sir Nero said, I don't think you’re my friend. You ask me why I saved you? It’s because I’m not a callous individual like you, who would leave a stranger to die if it did not benefit you in any way. Most regular, decent people would save the life of someone in danger if the situation arises.”
Onia froze, slowly processing his words. She looked like she wanted to snap at him, but she bit back her tongue. “I… I’m sorry, Alice,” she finally said. “And to you, Adrian, for offending you.”
Adrian blinked, surprised at her level response. “Oh, uh, as long as you understand—”
“However, you are wrong about me,” she cut him off. “I am not a callous individual. I am a Duke’s daughter. There is a certain standard I have to uphold, and unfortunately, you comm— two, refuse to let me maintain it.”
“What?” Alice asked, aghast. “I have been nothing but courteous to you, Lady Onia.”
“Yet you hang around this insolent fool who insists on addressing me so casually, ignoring all status between us. I gave you a chance to rectify that error, but you valued your acquaintance with him more than mine.” Onia shook her head. “Don’t mistake my gratitude for something else, Adrian. At the end of the day, you are still a commoner, and I will become a Duchess once my father passes his title to me. I know you are from the Rem Republic where the aristocracy is weak and holds less than a third of the power of government, but we’re not in the Rem Republic. This is the Holy Xan Empire, and if you want to survive here, you need to play by our rules, and not make up your own.”
Adrian wanted to snap back. He wanted to argue. But he realized she was telling the truth. From her perspective, Adrian had been nothing but rude from the first day, refusing to use titles for any of the nobles in Xander’s Academy. The boy thought he would give respect to those who deserved it, but that was not enough. Not when he was casually disrespecting them from the very first day. He took a deep breath, and thinking of Alice, he spoke out.
“Onia— no, Lady Onia. If I were to use your preferred title from now on, you’ll have to stop treating Alice and I as outsiders,” Adrian said, gesturing at the blonde girl next to him. “Perhaps you may think I did not earn my place in the Academy because Saint Theron pulled some strings to get me in, but Alice certainly has. And have I not proven from my time here that I am very much qualified to be a student here? Or are you disputing the veracity of my grades?”
“I am doing no such thing, and I would rather you not make presumptions on my behalf in the future,” the noble girl sighed, but pressed that issue no longer. Instead, she brought out a hand. “I have considered your offer, and I accept your terms. I sincerely doubt you would be willing to bow your head to me despite your reluctant use of my title, so we shall shake on it, only to simplify this issue.” She waited, her hand opened for him to take.
Adrian hesitated, eyeing the outstretched palm for a moment. “What about Faizan? Are you going to stop calling him a half breed and acknowledge him? He is a Baron’s son, after all.”
“I…” Onia trailed off as Adrian raised an eyebrow. Then, after some internal conflict where her good sense won, she responded, “Very well. But only because he helped in saving me by calling Sir Nero.”
The boy nodded, deciding that was the best he could get out of this. “So I guess we have a deal then?”
“Indeed.”
Adrian and Onia shook hands as Alice watched, mouth agape. With that, the pink haired girl turned around and took her leave.
“Adrian!” Alice said excitedly. “You just made us friends with Lady Onia! Do you understand what that means?”
Adrian frowned. “I don’t really think we’re friends, and I don’t know— what does it mean?”
“It means you have access to one of the highest social circles in all of the Holy Xan Empire! These types of relationships go a long way, Adrian!” the girl chattered, waving her arms about. “Networking, getting to know the upper nobles. These are all things I thought would take me years to do once I got accepted to Xander’s Academy— in fact, I thought I’d spend the first three years talking only to the lesser nobles. But now that Lady Onia is properly acknowledging us, that’s not going to be necessary anymore!”
The boy looked at the girl skeptically. “I really don’t think it’s as big of a deal as you’re making it, Alice.”
She sighed. “I’ll have to teach you a lot more things about how the nobility and the Holy Xan Empire works, don’t I? You’re still oblivious to so many things even after being here for half a year!” Then she laughed, smiling brightly at Adrian. “But don’t worry, once I’m done with you, I’ll make sure Xanderia feels like a second home!”
Adrian paused, catching a glimpse of Nero in the background. He saw the man’s sable black hair hanging freely without a helmet in place, and thought of someone else.
Sorry Alice, he thought to himself. But that’s never going to happen.
Because even if Onia was actually a good person, even if Faizan was an interesting new friend, and even if Adrian liked Alice’s company, it still did not change the fact that he believed the Holy Xan Empire was evil.
[Next Chapter]
​

Author's Note:
Here it is. 5700 words. I thought that these two chapters would be short. This is the last you'll see of Adrian in Book 2 as his Arc, as of now, is finished.
I know you guys here in Redditserials like Adrian, so I decided to upload the chapter here 6+ hours before I upload the chapter on RoyalRoad. However, speaking of RoyalRoad, I would like to ask for some help.
My rewrite of Melas-- which I mentioned won't affect you guys since I'm just retroactively editing the chapters here-- has finally hit Trending on RR, unfortunately it got review bombed initially for being 'torture porn' and 'worse than grimdark'. I was hoping some of you guys here with RR accounts could just click on this link, then click on the Fiction Page, and maybe give me a quick rating (however much you think I deserve) and scroll down to the reviews to upvote whichever you most agree with.
I know my story isn't torture porn; I'm sure you guys know my story isn't torture porn. And yet, it still hurts a lot reading someone call Melas a 'torture porn' story with a 'chewtoy MC'.
I would really appreciate it, thank you <3