I know what you're thinking: no way; there's no chance Tim Duncan is the GOAT. He's not even the best player of his generation you might say. You're thinking there's no way Tim Duncan belongs in the same category as MJ or LeBron. If you believe this, there are three things that you'll probably bring up as I make this argument.

1. The Second Act: If you're the kind of person who rates players through spreadsheets, his career in the 2010s is statistically underwhelming.
2. The Peak: You might say that Duncan never had a real peak where he was the most dominant player in the league on a daily basis, like Shaq.
3. Greg Popovich: Duncan has always had Pop, arguably the greatest coach of all time in his corner.

I hear you, and I will address these later on in this post. First, let me address Duncan's stats and accolades.
Duncan's notable accolades from his NBA career are as follows:

• 5 Championships
• 15 All-Defensive Teams (8x First Team, 7x Second Team)
• 15 All Star selections
• 2 Regular Season MVP's
• 3 Finals MVP's

Duncan's 5 championships are more than Larry Bird or Wilt Chamberlain, his 15 All-Defensive selections are the most of anybody ever, his 15 All Star appearances are tied for 3rd all time, he has as many regular season MVP's as Kobe and Shaq combined and only MJ has more Finals MVP's.
Don't forget about his college accomplishments though, because remember: Duncan came out of Wake Forest after four years despite people like Jerry West who said he could have been the number one overall pick had he left after his sophomore year.
Duncan's accolades form his collegiate years:

• 3x NABC Defensive Player of the Year
• 2x ACC Player of the Year
• 2x consensus All-American
• 1997 Naismith Player of the Year
• Most rebounds in NCAA history.

These NBA and collegiate snapshots of his basketball career, should be enough to have him at the table of the GOAT conversation. You're not convinced yet, let's dig into some more numbers.
Here's where Duncan ranks all-time on some of the major statistical categories across his NBA career:

• Points: 16th
• Rebounds: 6th
• Blocks: 5th
• Steals: 158th
• Assists: 100th

These career totals, admittedly, are substantially less impressive than other players at his position, like Kevin Garnett (19th in points, 9th in rebounds, 18th in blocks, 18th in steals, 55th in assists), Karl Malone (3rd in points, 7th in rebounds, 70th in blocks, 12th in steals, 61st in assists) or Dirk Nowitzki (6th in points, 26th in rebounds, 53rd in blocks, 94th in steals, 155th in assists). And that's because you can't judge Tim Duncan's numbers like you can with most players. Imagine in 15 years if somebody said to you that Russell Westbrook was better than Steph Curry, citing how many PTS, AST, and REB Westbrook had. You'd laugh right? Because you know that numbers do not always tell the full story. It is impossible and irresponsible to discuss a player's ranking without mentioning the stats that exists, but by measuring players purely by their basketball reference page, you're leaving out context and the story in which those numbers were achieved. That context is what makes those numbers meaningful.
Such is the case with Tim Duncan, whose success and greatness transcends a box score. You can't judge Tim Duncan with numbers alone. The fact of the matter is, that if you ran a team and if you could pick from any NBA player that ever played the game, and your goal is to win, you would pick Tim Duncan.
Offensively, Duncan was dominant for his first ten years in the NBA. From '98 to '08, he averaged 21.6/11.8/3.1 while playing on one of the slowest teams in the league. In that span, the Spurs never ranked in the top half of the league for PACE. Adjusting his stats for PACE and looking at his stats per 100 possessions (31.2/17.1/4.5 with 3.5 BLK at 50.8 FG%), you're looking at a big man who was every bit as productive as any other offensive player in the league at the time.
You already know about his skillset. He was, after all, The Big Fundamental. He could pass out of double teams, face up and break down the defense with surprising agility, consistently knock down shots from the elbows, and torch any big man in the league with his array of moves in the post and suddenly imposing physicality. He could masterfully run a PnR with any guard with working limbs. And, of course, he had his signature bank shot, one of the most consistent and reliable shots of all time along with Kareem's Sky Hook and Dirk's fadeaway. Those skills never deteriorated throughout his career, except perhaps his last year.
This is where I want to attack the 2nd idea that his second act was unexceptional. His scoring numbers dipped in last 8 years, where he never averaged over 20 PPG. But, as the Spurs offense became more collaborative and free-flowing, Tony Parker and Manu Ginobili shouldered more of that scoring burden as Duncan aged. Duncan's shot attempts fell, though he remained efficient. His skills hadn't waned; the Spurs just didn't need him to score 28 points every night. He retained his role as alpha dog during this stretch and contributed in other facets of the game. He could pick his spots, put his teammates in position to succeed, and save himself undue punishment and wear until is was needed. That's why in 2013, at the age of 36, he became the oldest player ever named to First Team All-NBA.
Duncan was never a prolific scorer, even in his prime. His game was never predicated on gawdy point totals like Malone or Dirk. With a different offense, he took fewer shots, and with fewer shots, he scored fewer points. In his last eight years, he remained a tremendous rebounder, was the go-to guy in crunch time, and the best defender, maybe ever. And this is what hurt his stats: the lack of flashy numbers for defense outside of blocks and steals. It's so hard to measure how much a drive was cut off because of his presence or a shot that was altered because of his contention. There are some metrics that attempt to measure this, like DRTG, Defensive Win Shares, and Defensive +/- , and while it is an inexact science, these measures do a fairly good job at assessing a player's impact on defense. Duncan's ranking in those metrics is unmatched:

• 95.6 DRT (3rd all time)
• 106.3 Defensive Win Shares (2nd all time)
• Defensive +/- (5th all time)
  These metrics along with his All-Defensive selections serve as a testament to how Duncan thrived when the opponent had the ball. Legendary basketball writer, Jack McCalllum wrote this for SI in 2016 after Duncan retired:
  

"Duncan guarded centers and power forwards (sometimes even small forwards) with equal success. And as the NBA became more and more of a high pick-and-roll game, Duncan accepted the extra responsibility of getting involved at the perimeter, while never abandoning basket responsibility. Nobody was better than Duncan at being both an advance guard and the final fortress."
FiveThirtyEight published this article in 2016, where analyst Neil Paine calculated career WAR values that took into consideration defense and offense, and Tim Duncan led the WAR rankings, by a mile:

1. Tim Duncan: 109.2
2. KG: 96.2
3. Karl Malone: 95.4
4. David Robinson: 89.3
5. Hakeem: 85.9
6. LeBron: 82.8
7. Kareem: 78
8. Larry Bird: 74.2
9. Shaq: 73
10. Pippen: 72.7

What does all of this mean? It means that Duncan was a tremendous offensive player, despite the lack of volume, and one of if not the greatest defenders of all time. In short, his value as a two-way player is virtually unmatched in the last 50 years of NBA basketball.
Enough with the numbers. I want to talk about Duncan when it mattered the most: the playoffs. You can look at any numbers, read any article, or talk to any fan who paid attention to the game at the time, and you'll come to the same conclusion: Tim Duncan was a killer in the playoffs. All of his most memorable performances came in the postseason, and more often than not, came in crucial games when his team needed him most. From his near quadruple double in 2003 to close out the Nets and earn his 2nd championship to his 25 point first half against the Heat in Game 6 of the 2013 Finals ten years later, there was never a moment too big for Duncan. Here are his playoff numbers, significantly higher in almost every category than he his in the regular season:

• Points: 6th
• Rebounds: 3rd
• Blocks: 1st
• Steals: 46th
• Assists: 33rd

His '99 championship run was phenomenal, where he tore through a young Kevin Garnett, the newly assembled Kobe-Shaq Lakers, Rasheed Wallace's Trailblazers, and the Patrick Ewing-less 8-seed Knicks on his way to being named the second youngest Finals MVP ever. His 2002 campaign was incredibly underrated, as he carried one of the worst teams of his career to 60 wins and outplayed Shaq before being beat by the two-time champs. His 2003 season was his best season, and we'll get to that in a second. Just know that his running mate, David Robinson, averaged 8.5 PTS and 8 REB in the regular season and that Duncan's 5.9 win shares in that playoff run remain the most of anybody in a single postseason.
In the mid-to-late 2000s, Duncan's Spurs remained a fixture in the playoffs against competition like Dirk's Mavs, Nash's Suns, and Kobe's Lakers. He repaid them with two more titles in '05 and '07. He also gave us one of the clutch shots of his career in Game 1 against the Suns in 2008 with this 3 point game-tying three pointer in OT.
Like I said earlier, in Game 6 of the 2013 Finals, at age 36, playing against Wade, Bosh, and apex LeBron on the road, Duncan put up 25 points in the first half. It would have gone down as an all-time series clinching performance had it not been for Ray Allen's iconic game-tying 3-pointer. Looking for revenge in the 2014 Finals, Duncan set the tone in Game 1 with the classic 21/10 game, while shooting 9/10 from the field. As his final playoff hurrah in 2015, trying to defend the title at the ripe age of 38 in Game 7 of a first round series against the Clippers, Duncan reached all the way back and put up 27/11, sinking crucial free throws to tie it, before Chris Paul hit a clutch, game-winning shot near the buzzer.
The same Tim Duncan giving the business to a 22-year-old Kevin Garnett, was the same Tim Duncan taking a 26-year-old DeAndre Jordan to school. Duncan was ready to win championships from the day he entered the league to the day he left. And I think that is why his peak is used against him as an argument for GOAT status. The fact that his championship window lasted his entire 19-year NBA career and that his teams were always somewhere between 50 and 60 wins meant that it's hard for any one of his seasons to stand out from the rest. And for some unfathomable reason, being consistently great is less of an accomplishment than being great for short stints.
Like I said, his 2003 season was his best, after leading his team to 60 wins and his 2nd consecutive MVP, Duncan eviscerated everything in his path as he tore through the playoffs. He upended the Suns, ended the Lakers 3-year reign as champions, and outdueled Dirk before absolutely torching the Nets in the finals. By the time he was holding the trophy, it was clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that Duncan was the league's best, most complete player.
Now, I'd be lying if I said that Duncan's peak was higher than Shaq's. But I also wouldn't feel comfortable saying that the difference between the two is great enough for me to lose sleep over. To me, the truth is that Shaq was so much more of a spectacle. To watch peak Shaq was an experience unlike anything else. To see someone of his size and stature move so powerfully and fluidly is still something of a miracle. To see Duncan at the peak of his powers was a lot like seeing him seven or eight years later. He was just a little faster, a bit stronger, and a touch quicker in his prime. But do aesthetics denote superiority? I'd say, no. And though Shaq in his prime was certainly a more dominant offensive player, there was never a time where he could match Duncan's abilities as a defender, leader, or teammate. The two are the antithesis of each other. Shaq loves fame; Duncan loathes it. Shaq would sometimes show up to training camp out of shape, often battle with his co-stars and finished his career having played for six different teams. Duncan took great care of his body, cemented himself as the cornerstone of his franchise, and is one of the most celebrated teammates in NBA history. Shaq left a little on the table. You can never say the same thing about Duncan. Shaq cared a little too much about what everyone thought of him, while Duncan couldn't have cared less.
Let's tackle the third criticism: that he always had Pop. To me, Pop is the greatest coach of all time, but he would be the first one to tell you that he wouldn't be here without Tim Duncan.
For one, Duncan can play any style of basketball, in any era. You want to go slow school, old-pace, dump it off to the big man down low, let him bang and be solid on defense? Titles. Remove the hand-checking and illegal defenses, increase scoring and start moving toward the perimeter? Titles. The league goes small ball, the pace explodes and shooting and ball movement is more important than anything? The largest margin of victory in NBA finals history.
Secondly, he can play with any team. Honestly, has any superstar done more with less? Jordan had Pippen his entire run and Rodman for the last half. Bird had McHale and Parish. Wilt had West and Hal Grier. Russell had Cousy, Jones, and Havlicek. Magic had Kareem and vice-versa. Kobe had Shaq and vice-versa. And LeBron has had Wade, Kyrie, and AD. Duncan's best teammates? Old David Robinson, Tony Parker, and Manu Ginobili, who combined for 5 Third Team All NBA appearances and 4 Second Team appearances during their time with Duncan. Parker and Ginobili are long shots for the HOF, and even though Robinson's in the HOF, he wasn't playing at a HOF level alongside Duncan.
Third, and most importantly, Duncan forged the culture of the Spurs. Pop was essential in acquiring players and reinforcing the culture that Tim wanted, but Duncan was truly the most vital component. The NBA is a star-driven league and finding a great player who hasn't gotten a coach fired is like finding a good Star Wars movie: they're few and far between. Not only did Duncan not get Pop fired, he let Pop coach him harder than any superstar ever. If Tim had ever thought to himself, "you know what I don't feel like getting my chops roasted in front of the whole team today because I didn't box out well in practice" he could have gone right to RC Buford, and Pop would have been gone - end of story. But Tim understood what Pop was about, and trusted him enough to be mentored in an unprecedented way. He set the example for his teammates, that no one is immune to criticism and that it's expected of everyone to leave their egos at the door.
In 2017, the Spurs SB Nation blog, Pounding the Rock, spoke to Sam Walker, author of "The Captain Class," a book which examines winning culture in team sports, from field hockey to rugby. In an exchange, Walker said this:
"[T]he book's main conclusion is that the only one factor that must be present in order to maintain greatness over a long period of time is the presence of a particular kind of selfless, relentless, independent-minded, publicity-averse, emotionally composed captain with strong communication skills. And that's Tim Duncan. Duncan was a pure example of the species."
I love Pop, but I have to believe that Duncan was the catalyst that powered Pop to be what he is now. This isn't Belichick-Brady where you wonder who made who. Pop is the greatest coach of all time, because of Tim Duncan. If you want to take credit away from Duncan by saying he played for the best teams, you might be right, but only because he made them the best team. He gave up touches, let other guys hold the torch, put everyone around him in the best position to succeed, and he enjoyed it when they did.
When I said earlier that the thing that hurt Duncan's stats more than anything was a lack of defensive numbers, I lied. The thing that hurt Duncan's stats more than anything was the fact that he never gave a shit about stats or awards. Ever. He wanted his teams to succeed and he wanted to win. That's it. Just read about how his teammates talk about him:
"The best PF ever! Thanks for the memories old man. A great player and teammate."
- Lamarcus Aldridge
"Sometimes all you NEED to say is THANK YOU....To the BEST EXAMPLE of a Leader, Brother, Friend."
- Bruce Brown
"Even tho I knew it was coming, I'm still moved by the news. What a HUGE honor to have played with [Duncan] for 14 seasons!
- Manu Ginobili
I don't think there is a more beloved teammate than Tim Duncan. In the words of NBA commissioner Adam Silver, "...his understated selflessness made him the ultimate teammate." Duncan was always the big brother. Correcting his teammates when they made mistakes and throwing his arms around their shoulders when things didn't go their way. He led in the most effective way possible, not with tweeting, bombastic words, or showy halftime speeches, but by example.
Of all the end-of-career farewell wishes, the one from his former teammate, Brent "Bones" Barry stuck out to me the most. He quoted Mark Twain, saying "'To be good is noble, but to show others how to be good is nobler and no trouble'; for your brilliance TD, I am grateful. For your skills as a player I am in awe. And for your friendship I am honored."
Milwaukee Bucks coach and former Spurs Assistant, Mike Budenholzer said to ESPN's Kevin Arnovitz in 2016: "The magnitude of that, the number of people in this league who have enjoyed opportunity or found fortunate spots in the league, you can trace it back to this one guy -- to the way Timmy played ball and the way he conducted himself. The 'culture' is Timmy."
The NBA is a league of superstars and dynasties - from Russell to Jordan, from Wilt to LeBron. We'll remember its history through its champions, and in the history of North American sports, no team has been as good for as long as the Spurs. San Antonio's success is completely unprecedented in the world of basketball. Aside from his lockout shortened sophomore season, Duncan won 50 or more games and qualified for the playoffs in every season of his NBA career. He finished his career with a win percentage of 71%, the highest of anyone, in any sport, ever. The Spurs run of success started in 1997, the year they drafted Duncan. Since then, he was the cornerstone, the engine of the franchise that has perpetually defined what winning culture looks like - in and outside of basketball.
And so I say again, if you could pick any NBA player from any era of basketball and your goal was to win, you would pick Tim Duncan. His abilities as a basketball player are what made him a superstar. But his consistency, willingness to be coached, love and support of his teammates, and humility are the things that make him transcendent.
I'll let Pop have the last word. This is what he said to the press after Duncan announced his retirement:
"Everybody always talks about who they'd like to eat dinner with, if you had one night and you could go to dinner or lunch with someone. Some people say Mother Teresa, Jesus, the Dalai Lama...I could honestly tell you, my dinner would be with Timmy. He is the most real, consistent, true person I've ever met in my life."

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March 22, 2019
After exiting the Sergeants office I headed to where mom and Miranda were waiting for me.
“Why did you stay?” asked mom who looked a fair bit and understandably concerned.
“Oh uh- just asking her something.” I said not wanting to worry them, which you could argue, how effective that was.
“Fucking aliens.” Miranda hissed while looking around there weren’t any of them around to hear her.
“Language!” mom said in a screaming whispering volume, not happy with the way her daughter was talking.
“Mom right now I don’t give three shits about my language, what I care is about those purple fucks invading our planet.” Said while pointing at the space surrounding us.
“Maybe you should lower your voice a little at least.” I said while looking at the people from the front desk starring our way even though she wasn't loud it was so quiet that you could hear a snail move.
“What about you huh? How many did you fuck already? Is that why you love talking to them so much?" Miranda said while making gestures with her head while having her arms crossed
“ENOUGH, WE ARE GOING TO THE ROOM.” mom screamed, it wasn’t unusual for her to scream, that was more of dad’s job.
After getting to the room the verbal brawl resumed.
“You shouldn’t even talk to those purple fucks, but maybe you already dipped the pen in the purple ink.”
“Can you shut the fuck up? At least once?” I said already fed up.
“Alright what in the God’s name is going on with your two, I have never heard y’all argue like this.” Mom said in a concerned tone but also mixed with her angry one.
“The problem is that the mister here present, is too bothered to hear me talking about those beasts outside, so it gets me to the conclusion that he’s been sleeping with them.”
Mom stared at her for a couple of seconds before looking at me with a phase that genuinely scared me, it was a mix of shock, anger, and disgust, I’ll never forget it that I’m sure.
“Jeriel Samuel Alvarez Mejia, please tell me that’s not true.” she said in the verge of tears.
“Of course I didn’t, she’s lying as always, every single fucking time she just either jumps straight to conclusions or straight up lies about everything, everything in order for her to be out of trouble, don’t let me remind you the time I was blamed and punished for breaking a window when I was at the summer camp 3 hours AWAY.”
“And if someone needs to be scolded for having sex SHE is the one that needs to be.” I said while pointing at her, I remember they would always put her first, unless it was for things that were not enjoyable, she could get not so great grades, while if I got anything under a B I had brought shame and disappointment to the family, I remember crying in my room when dad would take all my stuff away and then proceed to trauma dump on me retelling the story of the shitty life he had before becoming successful.
“What do you mean?” mom said while turning to her, adding tears to the mix “WHAT DOES HE MEAN?”
Miranda stayed quiet avoiding moms stare “Oh I’ll tell you what I mean, she’s been sneaking his boyfriend in for about 9 months now, I never said anything because I didn’t see point in it, it would somehow bounce back and be my fault somehow.” I said as I turned to be received by the room phone in the head.
“AHH FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I screamed as I grabbed my head.
"COME HERE YOU LITTLE SH-" as I was going to pick up speed I was stopped by mom who did her best to try and hold me back
“You mad that your fucking lie fell apart?” I told her as she backed away.
“ENOUGH, ENOUGH BOTH OF YOU!” she still found a way to include me into this.
“Miranda sweetie what’s going on?” see what I mean?
“What’s going on is that we’ve been invaded by fucking aliens and this piece of shit in front of me wants to defend them and get mad when THEY ARE THE REASON THAT DAD IS DEAD!”
Then everything got quiet.
“You know what? As far as I remember the aliens didn’t kill dad, he was live and well before the navy decided to vaporize him into oblivion.”
“And that was in their damn right, it’s like judging a person for using their gun to defend their home against a robber.” Miranda bit back.
“More like the husband killing his wife because one he has shitty ass fucking aim and two because he used a fucking shotgun to shoot the robber despite his wife being right next to the robber.”
“And now we have to move fucking somewhere else because some damn General MacArthur wanted to be a hero and get a stupid little medal for saving earth?”
As Miranda prepared to answer back mom cut her short “I’M DONE WITH BOTH OF YOU, DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD HAS IT BEING FOR ME, NOT JUST YOUR DADS DEATH, BUT ALSO MY HUSBAND'S? THAT NOW I NEED TO CARE FOR YOU BOTH ON MY OWN? THAT WE DONT HAVE A HOUSE OR A PLACE TO LIVE ANYMORE THAT BY THE GRACE OF GOD THEY ARE AT LEAST LETTING US GO SOMEWHERE ELSE AND NOT HAVE US TRAPPED HERE? I DO AND ITS DRIVING ME CRAZY SO I WOULD APPRECIATE SOME COLLABORATION FROM YOU TWO AND STOP ARGUING FOR TEN MINUTES, TEN MINUTES IS ALL I ASK.”
As we were both heading out we heard mom say between tears “Miranda I need to talk to you.” We looked at each other before she turned back, I exited and entered my own room because even though it was 11:00 AM I needed a nap to allow my brain to process what had happened today, but before that I had to get a band aid for my bruise.
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March 22-30, 2019
Things had been well... Things, after the fight and talking to Miranda mom came into my room to talk to me about everything, guess it went relatively well, I guess we all just had that buried inside, this was actually kind of a usual thing you know? this kind of fights between us two, minus the phone to the head obviously, but I still love them would do anything for them, but yeah this time we cranked it up to a new level, my relationship with Miranda had been rocky at best, we hadn't really talked for the past week, under the umbrella of new and/or different things that happened this week, breakfast changed, I knew it was bound to happen, so we've been eating what I assume are alien MRE's, that to be honest are not that bad, needs more salt though, maybe I should expect alien food to be different, and that explains the love for maple syrup, but one question stuck with me, if this was their "food" then how sweet are their deserts? another option is that this is just how the MRE's taste, maybe homemade food was different.
But anyways, I had been also having small talks with Delara here and there nothing too serious, but today was the day we were supposed to see Sergeant Lyria to get our IDs, there were just some regular questions, got our photos taken that this time I made sure to look good, despite the bruise on my forehead, I had to give many explanations, if I didn't want them to arrest Miranda, they seem to be really protective of males, but all in all I looked good in the picture, way better than any other I had taken before, and the IDs themselves were purple as most things seemed to be, that got me wondering what if we made our things on the skin tone scale, like they do to purple, or maybe it was another reason that wasn't so weird, I'll have to ask that next chance I get, but yeah in general terms things were... ok.
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I was laying down in the sofa of the hotel lobby, again I was reading, then I sit up as I see Delara coming my way "Hey Jeriiel."
Well at least she says it properly now or at least close to it, "Hi Delara." I said as I raised my fist to fist bump her which she had explained to me that it was the equivalent of handshakes.
"How are you doing?" she asked, her pronunciation having a substantial improvement.
"I'm doing fine, what about you?"
"Doing well, but how about your mother and sister, are things ok now?" she asked while sitting in the chair in front of the sofa across from the little coffee table, she had been checking up on me whenever she had the chance.
"Doing better, though mom is a little stressed with the moving thing, understandably so." I responded
"How about you though? heard y'all were also moving?" I asked sipping from a bottle of water.
"Oh yeah they stablished base and we live in two weeks, just enough to say goodbye." Delara said maybe with a little bit of sadness in her voice.
"I guess." I said a little sad that I wouldn't see my friend anymore, maybe she was an alien invader but I still considered my friend, and believe me that is something a needed quite a bit
Then we saw Miranda and mom coming back from a walk, with the lockdown lifted the first thing we did was walk somewhere, we have never been in North Carolina, what we did notice was the atmosphere felt weird, not the atmosphere as in the actual gas surrounding the planet but more in the vibes people gave, there some sketchy characters for sure, and some other people who clearly didn't like the new people, there were arrests, shootings, and other things I can't remember at the moment, I didn't know how their government worked or what laws they had, but if they took away guns, I couldn't not feel bad for whoever was put in charge of the south, long days were ahead of them.
"Bendición ma." I said as they walked through the door, "How did it go?"
"Really good actually, the weather is cooler now." she said while looking at me then noticed Delara sitting down.
"Oh uh- h- hello, D- De- Delara."
"Hi Mrs. M- Me- Mejia." she said while waving, to which my mom waved back.
"I'm going to the room." said Miranda avoiding Delara as much as possible
"I think I should go with her." said mom as she waved goodbye
**sigh* "*Hope things can get better." I said while returning to my book.
"I'm sure they will, me and my siblings fight all the time, and in the worst cases we are back to normal after a week or two." Delara said trying to support me.
"Yeah, I don't think this falls under the same category but thanks." I said as the communicator in her helmet buzzed
\Buzz* *buzz**
"I have to go." Delara said as she stoop up and fist bumped me, putting her helmet on and heading out
'At least she knows how to use I now'
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WONDER WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IN THE NEXT CHAPTER? TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO GET YOUR ANSWERS
Surprise chapter, I guess?
I was feeling inspired and couldn't wait to post it next week.
As always any feedback or corrections are welcomed.
Thanks again.

Simple theory, the commander has the kind of blood needed to make Vapaus.
Maybe I'm just a bit slow at processing information or just lacking information from chapter 22 (I'm still mid-chapter 21, but I don't mind getting spoiled). The Scene that's been bothering me is: when the commander was wounded by Modernia and brought urgently to the outpost hospital, his blood type wasn't registered in his medical file, then Andersen showed up saying we had a particular blood type and he had the same. After waking up, he says that the blood type has been erased from databases to prevent those with it to be experimented on.
Throughout the story, with few interactions and voice lines, he seems to care about Nikkes and protect the commander. Recently, the commander himself asked Andersen if he knew anything about where Eden was, and Andersen brushed the question off.
We also learned that Vapaus was originally made from the blood of the Goddess Squad Human Commander whose blood had a peculiar effect on Nimph. Hence its rarity approximately 50 years after his death.
That would also explain why Chatterbox wanted to kidnap us. The reason was never explained (as far as I know).
Finally, it would fit thematically with the power fantasy offered by the story. In the dark world of Nikke, we are the strong, just, compassionate, tactical genius, protector of the innocent, and Nikkes, a survivor of many dire situations and owner of the largest harem in the entire Ark. The kind of story being delivered to us is a power fantasy where we shine in counterbalance to the darkness of the world, and where our light ideals triumph over the darkness (most of the time, but every hero stumbles at times). Some people might say that it can't be such a story since the world is a Cyberpunk/Post-apocalyptic world, therefore character agency aka how much a single person can change the world and how long change last (especially for the better), and Cyberpunk and Post-apocalyptic settings are both known as genres where character agency should be low. This is true, normally, Corporations always win in the end in Cyberpunk, and no matter how hard someone tries to, they can't reverse the apocalypse or recreate society after it in its entirety otherwise, it would no longer be post-apocalyptic (think of the cities in Fallout New Vegas with economies and factions territories), the world in a post-apocalyptic setting could sweep in every second and reclaim what was built: raids from bandits, infection in a zombie-free city... The thing is, the devs managed to balance the lack of agency and the need for agency required by the dark side of the world and the light side of some parts of the story. That's why sometimes, it feels like a rollercoaster with dark events followed by heartwarming events, or cute bond stories with depressing main story chapters. We have a "Harem," yet we can lose (canonically at least, the game doesn't remove your units) members of it: think Mihara losing her memory, Marian, then losing her again as Modernia, Pilgrims leaving us for their own goals with touching farewells... All and all, it would fit the narrative IMO
So that's my theory, I'm I just slow and everyone knew this, or is this intriguing/eye-opening? Or maybe you have counterarguments to my claims?

I 27F was diagnosed Memorial Day after cramping the whole weekend. I thought it was period cramps when it started Saturday morning because it was in my left ovary. But by Memorial Day it was so bad I couldn’t walk. I headed to urgent care which then sent me to the ER, where a CT confirmed Diverticulitis , and I was sent on my way with Norco and 5 days of Amoxicillin. Friday came and I felt a pop and pretty much blacked out, instant cold sweats, I couldn’t see for a few seconds it was so painful. I then drove myself to the ER where I waited for 2.5 hours before being told I perforated and more pockets had formed. I was admitted and put on IV antibiotics and was unable to eat or drink anything until Sunday, which I drank water, and chicken broth. By Monday they told me to try soft foods (mashed potato’s) which ultimately caused 8 hours of excruciating pain again.
I was released Tuesday afternoon ( 5 days later) with 12 days of Cipro and Flagyl, 2 days of Dilaudid, which I have been keeping notes on for reference and taking them like clock work. Surgery is 6-8 weeks out. I am in misery still. It probably doesn’t help I got my period on the day I was released but the pain has not gotten better. I have gotten a fever every single evening, and wake up at around midnight FREEZING, I have no AC and it’s 90 degrees and I throw on sweats and a sweatshirt. Peeing, and pooping still makes me want to run into traffic it hurts so bad. I have an appointment today with my surgeons office, do I ask for more pain meds? What do I do here? I’m miserable, I’ve been out of work and I don’t want to miss anymore but I can barely sit up straight for 20 minutes without the pain intensifying, and honestly I’m just so exhausted by this, I feel weak, bloated, somehow I’ve gained 10lbs and I can count on one hand the amount of liquid I’ve drank other than water in a week.
Any suggestions or tips or words of encouragement greatly appreciated because I don’t know how I’m going to last 6-8 more weeks. 2 weeks is enough for me at this point I would welcome the colostomy bag if it meant no longer feeling this way.

A thread dedicated to chasing the dragon, if you will.
So we're about to start our first attempt of Exfil Tracking, and we're discussing our potential courses of action for getting the mission done. There are no delusions about us getting this done on the first attempt; we're just figuring out how to take our first stab at the gig intelligently. We elect to drop in and put our intentions to cheese the mission with another squad out in chat straight off the rip with the understanding that we will be broadcasting our intentions to the lobby.
We get in and drop a message in chat while we're headed to the gas station outside of Hydroelectric to retrieve our hardware, and a team replies that they are attempting to do the mission as well, but they are pinned down in Taraq by a squad that has the cell tower on the hill southeast of town. We head that way in defilade, threading ourselves through the palm grove west of Rohan and keeping ourselves relatively concealed by driving through the oil derricks west of Taraq. We arrive, and tracer fire confirms the enemy squad's presence and that there is a fight with someone in the town ruins. I stay on the spotter scope and communicate with the team through chat as my two squadmates third party at least four operators in that area. As soon as they mention the situation has settled down for them, I elect to move into town alone to find them. Mind you; we are on edge the entire time as all the chat traffic is making us a huge target of opportunity.
I stow my weapon in my free bag slot so I can step out unarmed and head into town while my squadmates take up covered positions to observe from; after a bit of talking in proximity chat, I encounter the squad and talk them down a bit as they are understandably jumpy about the situation. They walked into that firefight more or less immediately after the match started, so they needed more time to collect the hardware. I tell them that we will have to refrain from assimilating for this cheese to work and that we'll have to commit the names in proximity chat to memory so we know at least who's who in this tenuous alliance we've come to. We procure vehicles and take lead so that they can follow us to the gas station, and their squad collects their transmitters. I then direct them to meet us at an exfil in the northern part of Al-Safwa Quarry so that we can commence with the cheese.
We arrive first, and as soon as we see their vehicle on the minimap, we call for exfil, and I instruct them to plant their transmitter and clear the area as soon as it's planted. Our squad quickly loads and unloads from the chopper to cut the timer down, and we take turns doing this for our requisite three enemy choppers each. While this is happening, squads are showing up and almost immediately fucking off once they see what appears to be a 6-man. A few of us get downed by the occasional cocky squad, and we manage to revive ourselves after the couple of fights we had with no "friendly" fire to speak of.
During all this, we've been burning a lot of time, and the zone has begun growing. At this point, it's down to one last tracker for my squad, I realize there's no need to stay separated, so we assimilate into a proper 6-man squad, and I figure we'll have to wing it and catch one last squad en route to the final exfil. We catch our third and final chopper touching down just north of the Sa'id Mall parking complex, spam smokes at the LZ, and one of us slips through the smoke to plant the transmitter; all the while, we announce to whoever was there to hear that we didn't want to fight and that we'd leave once our transmitter was planted, which we did.
Finally, we make it to the final exfil, and it would appear that besides the army of Tier 3 bots, we have the exfil to ourselves, and we collectively take a breath of relief, that is until a turreted LTV turns the corner and opens up on us. A firefight ensues, and after disabling their vehicle and delaying their push by downing two of their squadmates, I myself am downed and eliminated. One of our new members jumps out with less than a minute left and pulls the long revive on me while under fire from bots and manages to get me up, I make it onto the chopper with a sliver of health, but he is downed himself, with no time for any of us to revive him, and he tells us to go without him.
Mission completed in one go. Been chasing that kind of experience ever since.
Edit: spelling.

Company Name	Title	City
BAYADA Home Health Care	Registered Nurse	Derry
Parkland Medical Center	Cath Lab Nurse	Derry
Parkland Medical Center	Catheter Laboratory Nurse	Derry
L.L.Bean	Store Team Leader - Operations & Productivity	Dover
Rockingham Dental Group	Dental Hygienist	Epping
UniFirst	Maintenance Supervisor - UniFirst ($5,000 Sign On)	Lebanon
Walmart	Shopper	Lebanon
Walmart	Retail Team Member	Littleton
Walmart	Stocking & Unloading	Littleton
Walmart	Online Order Filler	Littleton
UniFirst	Route Service Representative - UniClean	Nashua
L.L.Bean	Keyholder	North Hampton
L.L.Bean	Store Supervisor	North Hampton
Frisbie Memorial Hospital	Psych NP	Rochester
IPG Photonics	Equipment Maintenance Tech	Salem
Walmart	In-Store Shopper	West Lebanon
Walmart	Food & Grocery	West Lebanon
Walmart	Online Orderfilling and Delivery	West Lebanon
Walmart	Store Worker	Woodsville
Walmart	Retail Associates	Woodsville
Walmart	Shop Hand	Woodsville
BayMark Health Services	Full Time Recovery Support Specialist	Canterbury
BayMark Health Services	Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN)	Canterbury
BayMark Health Services	LPN	Canterbury
BayMark Health Services	Full Time License Practical Nurse (Second Shift)	Concord

Hey guys, here are some recent job openings in nh. Feel free to comment here or send me a private message if you have any questions, I'm at the community's disposal! If you encounter any problems with any of these job openings please let me know that I will modify the table accordingly. Thanks!

6 years ago I broke my right foot at work. I just stepped wrong while I was running around getting things done. I just broke my left foot, fell on wet pavement. This is long sorry.
This brought back memories of last time. I managed to get to the break room on the broken foot, put my foot up, took off my shoe and sock to see, it was massively swollen. I was a vet tech. The veterinarians came to see what was going on and said oh yeah that looks broken. I remember my foot being up there looking like hell, and the office manager brought me water and Advil. But that was the end of their giving a crap. I told the office manager I'd be going to urgent care and she got mad at me. She didn't want me to go. No one offered me a ride. No one offered to help me get to the cab.
I was so afraid of losing my job at that toxic place that I didn't want to make it a workers comp case. They would've killed and fired me. On my broken foot I walked to my locker, took my clothes to the bathroom, changed out of my scrubs, walked up to the front of the office to get the cab, walked out and into the cab. No one offered me any help. I was just ignored.
I absolutely should have made it workers comp. I was frequently threatened with losing my job while I was on crutches for a month. They demanded a doctor's note, then said the one I got wasn't detailed enough. Doctors notes are not supposed to be detailed. I had to call the office and have them write a note that explicitly said I'm on crutches for at least 4 weeks and cannot work. This was ridiculous also because everyone saw my crutches on Instagram and some of the staff saw them in person when we dropped off the first note.
I went back earlier than the doctor wanted me to. I went back in a boot and with a note that said I needed frequent rest breaks. The office manager barely said anything to me. The practice owner said nothing. We had a staff meeting and there was no hey she's back after a month! Other people noticed that but no one said anything. I decided to be bold. I told the office manager I was hurt that she didn't seem to care I was back. She looked me in the eye and went, "We were F**KED without you." I was like jesus I didn't break my foot on purpose. She went on about how the only other full time tech had to work almost every day. I was like I feel terrible about that but what could I do. I was crying. She yelled at me to stop freaking out.
Every time she saw me resting my foot she gave me a death stare. I felt like I couldn't rest. I was doing a lot of physical stuff. Climbing stepstools in the boot. Carrying things. Nobody gave me a break. I made a lot of mistakes. I'd been gone and depressed for a month and I wasn't getting back into the swing of things. After like two weeks they gave me a performance review. I was told they were gonna give it to me the day I broke my foot. They waited. It was 100% negative. If this employee existed there's no reason they wouldn't have fired her already, there was not a single good thing in it. I want the best but I was never that terrible an employee. They made me sign it. I'm convinced they were pushing me out, a new girl had just started. I found a new job and quit. I should have filed for temporary disability and took time off because I was not in a mental state to work anywhere and I was physically exhausted. But I was still afraid of making them mad. The practice owner was known to call other vets in the area and tell them not to hire people she didn't like.
Fast forward, I couldn't keep a job anymore. I'm on SSDI now. My symptoms weren't new after this but they were 20x worse. I had always had trouble keeping jobs but now it seemed impossible. This story is insane right? Like, I'm not just too sensitive? I'm having flashbacks. Thank you for reading.
Eta spacing between paragraphs

I've been having evening stomach pains on and off for over a year. Figured it was just a bad diet catching up with me (in a way I was right) and that it'd be easily fixed (I was very wrong). Went on Omeprazole for a couple weeks. Felt better. Slipped back into bad eating habits. Had an attack so bad I thought there was something seriously wrong (12 hours of excruciating pain and repeated vomiting); Urgent Care told me to go home and take more Omeprazole. I was furious and desperate but to their credit, it worked like a charm. I took one and slept it off and when I woke up the pain was gone. I stayed on Omeprazole for two months with little to no pain. I figured it was over. Went off it again. Watched my diet. Had some more pain on and off but nothing major. I started getting complacent again.
This recent flare-up is entirely my fault. I acknowledge that. I did it to myself. We were moving to a new house and didn't have a lot of time to cook, so we ordered out several times. I had takeout pizza with greasy fries twice in one week. And I overate, too. Stupid. The resulting attack wasn't as bad as the one I went to urgent care for, but it was a hell of a wake-up call. I had to crack down on this shit.
I've been trawling the gastritis subreddit for about two weeks now and following as much good and strict advice as I possibly can. I still experience stomach pain every evening. And only in the evening. Soon after dinner, like clockwork. Doesn't seem to matter what I eat or when I eat it. My diet currently consists of wheat bread, white rice, greek yogurt, watermelon, oatmeal, and fucking lentil puffs. Sometimes I'll add peanut butter to my toast or maple syrup to my yogurt so that I don't get depressed while eating it. I know I'm technically not supposed to do that but on days when I don't do that it makes no difference. I haven't touched alcohol or caffeine (not that I drank much of either before anyway) or anything processed or greasy. I'm struggling to eat enough calories in a day, which is something I never in my life thought I would say. I guess the plus side of all this is I'll probably lose some weight (I'm around 180 lbs at 5'4", or at least I was the last time I checked a few months ago).
I'm only a little over a week into the strict diet and I'm seriously considering giving up eating food altogether and starting a fucking water fast. How do you people do this? It doesn't seem to matter what I eat, my stomach's gonna be pissed off about it in the evening. Yesterday I had plain rice with the vaguest hint of flavor (half a bouillon cube) for dinner and suffered one of my worst attacks yet since starting this. I'm planning on seeing a specialist but I'm worried they're just going to dismiss me as being a) overweight, b) female and/or c) a foreigner (I live in Europe). Three strikes = I'm just a whiny American woman who doesn't watch her weight. Obviously I'm making an appointment anyway, so fingers crossed they take me seriously and figure out what's going on. I'm fucking tired of this.
Any thoughts on what I should be doing on my own in the meantime? Aside from the basics? I'm a little lost on whether, say, fiber is beneficial or not, or whether yogurt is actually good because of the healthy bacteria or terrible because its dairy. It's pretty hard to track what makes my stomach react badly in particular when it hurts at the same time every day regardless of whether I've eaten toast and yogurt or only had fucking oats and watermelon all day.
Oh, and as a bonus, PPIs seem to have ceased doing anything useful for me at all. I switched from Omeprazole to Pantoprazole to see if it would make a difference; so far, nothing. But it's only been a week.
Please give me some advice. Thoughts. Moral support. Anything. Anyone ever tried water fasting for an extended period to make this go away? I could probably do without food for a while...

The way I see it, if you don’t notice that I exist, then I’m doing my job correctly.
​
My name is Ben McFarlane and I work as a municipal sewer inspector in the town of Tevam Sound, Ontario. It's not the most glamorous job, but hey, somebody's got to do it and it puts food on the table.
​
You'd probably think that working as a sewer inspector isn't that exciting… and yeah, for the most part you'd be right. Most of the time, all I'm doing is checking the pipes for damage. Unless there’s a reason for me to investigate a certain area, most of what I do is routine inspection, which helps ensure that the sewers remain in good working order. Trust me, nobody wants to see what happens when they aren’t.
​
Thankfully, a lot of what I do can be done without me needing to crawl through pipes. I can use a small camera to help me do the inspection. But with some of the larger pipes and cisterns, I need to actually go inside and take a look.
​
It’s never the best part of my day, but like I said before: somebody’s got to do it.
​
Going down into the bigger tunnels is always a little unnerving. Part of it is the claustrophobic atmosphere and part of it is the knowledge that you’re basically standing in a river of literal human waste. I can deal with it now, but back when I first started the smell alone was darn near impossible to deal with.
​
Ask most sanitation workers and I'm sure they'll have stories about what they've found in the sewers before. Heck, most of it isn't even stuff that people flush down the toilet. It's the stuff that people drop down manhole covers, or the stuff that gets washed into the sewers by the rain. Dead animals are surprisingly common, as are kids toys. I found an entire bicycle in the sewer once and I've got a buddy who found a loaded gun down there! Someone probably thought they'd get rid of it by just tossing it in the sewer.
​
Someone was wrong.
​
But of all the strange things I've experienced during my time working in the sewers… none of it compares to the stuff I see in the pipes on the southeast side of town.
​
The things down there… I don't usually like to talk about them. Heck, I might not even be legally allowed to talk about them. I guess we'll find out, won't we? I've had a few drinks tonight and I'm feeling particularly chatty. So why not spill the beans? Hey, maybe someone out there will tell me something I don’t already know.
​
I’d been on the job for about a year or so before getting sent to the southeast side of town. It’s closer to the lake and the downtown area, so there’s some deeper pipes there. I’d always figured that that was the reason they only really ever sent certain people down there. I’d heard that those tunnels were old and a little labyrinthian. Anyone who didn’t know what they were doing could easily get lost.
​
But after we got hit with a particularly nasty rain storm back in summer of 2013, they needed to send someone down to check on some sensors and I just so happened to be one of the guys who was available.
​
A bad rain storm can push a sewer system to its limit, so it wasn’t really that surprising that we’d gotten that kind of call and at the time, I didn’t think that there was anything that strange about it. My supervisor told me to head on down toward the pumphouse on the southwest side of town like it was any other priority inspection, and I went along with no questions asked. It was a few streets away from downtown. I’d seen it before but never had a reason to go inside up until then.
​
I was working with a couple of other newbies at the time, a guy by the name of Stewart Long who’d only been on the job for a round three months or so, and another guy by the name of Tomas Opunui who’d started around the same time that I had.
​
We’d arrived at the pumphouse, and when we got there we noticed another team waiting on us. This wasn’t too shocking either. Depending on the size of the job, they might’ve sent some other guys in to help us handle it.
​
The guy in charge was an older man who looked to be pushing sixty. He had sort of a ‘Santa Claus on summer vacation’ look, with white hair, a short white beard, a big beer belly and a no nonsense expression.
​
He watched us get out of his truck with a look of stern disapproval, before huffing and trudging over to us.
“Where’s the usual fellas?” He asked.
“I dunno, out. They called us,” I replied.
​
He didn’t seem to like that answer but didn’t say anything in response to it.
“You ever worked on the southeast approach channel before?” He asked.
“Yeah, we’ve been in the ones on the north side of town,” I said.
“That’s not what I asked, kid. You ever worked in this one before?”
​
Something about the way he asked this question struck me as a little odd. I’d worked in an approach channel before. I knew the drill. What did it matter which one I’d worked in?
​
For the unenlightened, an approach channel is a cistern filled with wastewater. They feed into a deep tunnel which feeds into a water treatment plant and they’re considered to be fairly dangerous, due to their depth (if you fall off the ladder on your way down, you’re in for a long drop into a biohazardous lake unless you’re properly tethered) and the harmful gasses that can accumulate in them. Standard operating procedure is to always test the air before entering one just to make sure that it’s even safe to breathe down there.
​
Being reckless while going into an approach channel is a recipe for disaster, and I would have understood if the old man was concerned about us not having dealt with one before. But the way he spoke to us implied that this one was different somehow, which didn’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense to me.
“What’s the difference?” I asked. “Same procedure, right?”
“No, not the same procedure. We need people experienced with this approach channel. These tunnels are a little different than what you’re used to.
“Look, the boss sent us here. So I’m sure we’ll manage,” Tomas said. “You can show us what we need to know.”
​
The Old Man didn’t respond to him. He just shook his head and turned away.
“I’m gonna call this in and clear it with the boss first. You three, don’t move until I get back.”
I traded a look with both Tomas and Long as the Old Man trudged away. He said something to the two guys who were with him, before getting back into his truck to make a call.
​
Part of me was obliged to try and just get to work. But looking at the other two guys that the Old Man had with him, I had a feeling that they’d try to stop me. One of them, another older guy with a receding hairline and a bushy moustache was watching us like a hawk.
​
So we waited.
​
After a few minutes, the Old Man got out of his truck again, said something to his buddy with the mustache and trudged back over to us.
“Bad news, fellas. Looks like our usual company’s retired… guess you’re the replacement.”
“So we can get to work?” I asked.
“Yeah. We can get to work,” The Old Man said. “Come on, let’s get going.”
​
With that, he turned and led us into the pumphouse.
“Suppose I might as well introduce myself. Names Troy. My colleagues here are Craig and Peter.”
He gestured to the two men who were with him, Mr. Moustache (who I assumed was Craig) and the other guy, who looked to be in his mid thirties and had sunken eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days. The one who I assumed was Craig just gave us a nod, while the guy I figured was Peter gave a lazy half wave before they followed us into the pumphouse.
“So if you don’t mind my asking, what’s so special about this channel?” I asked.
“I guess you’ll be seeing for yourself soon enough,” Troy replied as he started down a set of stairs. “The guys you’re replacing… well, guy… a fella named Tom… he always had a set of rules for working down here. He passed ‘em on to me and Craig when we started. We’ve passed ‘em on to Peter. Guess it’s time we passed ‘em on to you too.”
​
“Rules?” I asked, “What kind of rules?”
“The kind you listen very, very closely to, kid.”Troy looked back at me, before his eyes shifted to Tomas and Long behind me.
“Very, very closely.”
He descended the rest of the way down the stairs, where there was a hatch in the concrete floor beneath us, along with a large locker on the far side of the room.
​
“Rule number one,” Troy began. “You don’t enter this part of the sewers alone. You stay in a group of at least three to four at all times. No more, no less. Too many and it slows you down. Too few, and you might not come back at all.”
He trailed off, watching as Craig cracked open the hatch to test the air inside.
​
“Rule number two: You do not enter this part of the sewers without a gun and a radio.”
He opened the locker on the far side of the room and I was taken aback to see a collection of several handguns inside, along with boxes of ammunition and one shotgun in amongst the usual PPE.
Troy clipped one of the guns to his belt, along with one of the radios, before handing a pair off to Peter and looking over at us.
​
“Who’s taking it?” He asked.
“Whoa, just hold up for a minute!” Long interjected, “What the hell is down there?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Troy replied. “Hate to say it but it ain’t our job to know. I leave that to someone else. Our job is to follow the rules. You follow them, and you’ll be fine.”
Long seemed skeptical, but I looked at the gun in Troy’s hand and took it. I wasn’t sure if he was having a laugh with us or not, but I was there to do a job and I intended to do it.
​
Troy gave me a quiet nod, before thrusting the second gun over to Long. He didn’t seem to happy to get it.
“Are we gonna have to use these?” He asked.
“Not if you do as I say, you won’t. Rule 3: If you see a pipe or a tunnel with heavy spiderwebs, don’t go down it. Doesn’t matter if that’s where the sensor is. You make a note of it, report it to your supervisor and leave it alone.”
​
Spiderwebs? What the hell was he talking about?
“Rule 4: If you find a body… and odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell, don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisors time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they’re human.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve been finding human bodies down there?” I asked.
“Rarely,” He replied. “But it’s been known to happen. And if we do find one… the same rules apply. Don’t approach it. Don’t touch it. Stay as far away as possible.”
​
I could see some of the color draining from Long’s face.
“Rule 5: If you see anyone else down there, you are not to interact with them. You do not follow them if they try to lead you somewhere, if they ask you for help, you do not help them. I don’t care if they’re crying and begging. You leave them alone. You report it to your supervisor.”
“There are people down there?” I asked.
“Normally, no. Far as I know, Tom only ever ran into a couple during his career. I’ve only ever seen one. Like I said, best to leave them alone.”
​
“Why?” I asked, “If there’s someone stuck down there, we have an obligation to help them!”
“That would be very ill advised,” Troy said. “You don’t want to anger the things that are down there… which leads me to rule 6: Avoid killing anything you come across down there. They’re not yours to kill. And if you have absolutely no choice, if you have to break that rule for the sake of self defense, then we leave immediately. That’s rule number 7.”
​
“Air’s safe down there,” Craig said, interrupting our conversation.
“Good. Let’s get suited up, then. Oh… and rule 8. Final rule. If anything happens to any member of our team, we leave immediately. We don’t go after them. We don’t try to help them. We leave immediately. Is that clear? I don’t care if it’s me, begging you for help. You leave me behind.”
​
Long and I remained silent, neither of us entirely sure how to react to this or even what to say. Troy had made it sound as if we were about to descend into a level of hell. I couldn’t imagine what the hell could possibly be down there to elicit a list of rules like that, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find out either!
“Well? You fellas getting ready or not?” Troy asked impatiently as he put on his PPE. “The quicker we get down there, the quicker we can get out again!”
​
“If this is so dangerous, why are they sending us?” Long asked, “Shouldn’t they be sending… I dunno, the cops or something?”
“They tolerate us being down there, so long as we don’t disturb them. They wouldn’t be so forgiving toward the local police,” Troy replied. “Listen, kid. Obey the rules and you’ll be fine, got that? We’ve been doing this for years without any problems. You keep your head on your shoulders, you do what we say and you go home safe. Alright?”
​
Long still didn’t seem convinced, but I did. By this point, I was morbidly curious about exactly what was down there… and Troy’s assurance that they’d come out unscathed before did set me at ease a little bit. These rules sounded kinda scary, but what could realistically go wrong? With Troy keeping us in line, everything would probably be fine and besides, I still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all some sort of elaborate prank the old man was pulling. I grabbed myself a set of PPE and got ready and after a moments hesitation, Long did the same.
​
When we were ready, Craig opened up the hatch in the floor, and Tomas helped get us tethered so that we wouldn’t plummet down into the waters below if we slipped on the ladder, then we finally began our descent.
​
Troy went first, climbing down the ladder and into the darkness below. I went second, followed by Peter and followed by Long.
​
We climbed down into the approach channel in relative silence, only really speaking again once we made it to the bottom of the ladder.
​
Troy helped me get untethered, before doing the same for Peter and Long as they reached the bottom, and while he did that I got my first look at the dreaded southeast approach channel. I can’t say that there was a heck of a lot to see. The walls were boxy and flat, and the dirty wastewater trickled over my boots and into the pipe sending it even deeper through the sewer system.
​
The sensors should have been mounted on the ceiling, and I traced the black conduit line with my flashlight as I searched for the sensor they connected to. Peter and Long stayed back as Tomas and Craig lowered our tools down after us, while Troy came up behind me.
“Should be quick work…” He noted, “Rain doesn’t seem to have done much in here. Water level is still fairly low.”
​
I saw his flashlight shift upward toward the ceiling before he spotted the sensor. He trudged through the water to get closer to it, and I followed him.
“No external damage,” I noted. “Conduit lines look good too.”
“Yeah, we’ll run our tests and get out of here,” Troy said. “Approach channel is usually pretty safe… usually.”
“Usually?” I asked, and Troy pointed his flashlight up toward a set of silky spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling a few feet behind the sensor.
​
“They don’t typically come up here… but every now and then you might find some proof of some young ones, trying to get into the pumphouse.”
I looked over at him.
“They try to break into the pumphouse?” I asked, “Did they ever get in?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard of. Can’t imagine they’d stay long if they did. Nothing to eat in there.”
“What exactly are they?” I asked, “And don’t you tell me that’s not for us to know. You’ve seen them, right? What do they look like?”
​
Troy had started to answer, when suddenly I heard Long screaming and swearing up a storm. Both of us turned to look, just in time to see something large skittering up the wall beside him. I only caught a brief glimpse of it, but it seemed to be roughly the size of a dog with more legs than I could count. Long stared at it with wide, horrified eyes as he fumbled with his gun, before pulling it free.
​
I saw Troy’s eyes widen before Long fired five times. Only one or two of the bullets actually hit the target. I heard Peter cry out in pain and grab at his arm before falling and whatever it was that Long had actually been shooting at collapsed into the shallow water, its pale body twitching violently.
“What did you just do?!” Troy demanded, running over to Peter’s side.
“I-it was coming for me!” Long protested, before noticing what he’d done to Peter. I saw his eyes widen in horror.
“Oh no… no, no, no… I didn’t…”
“Rule 6! You don’t kill anything down here! You leave them alone and they leave you alone!” Troy roared, before his attention returned to Peter. “How bad is it?”
​
“J-just a scratch, boss… I think I got hit by the ricochet,” Peter said, as Troy inspected his wound. I’ve never seen a gunshot wound before, but there was a lot of blood for it to just be a scratch.
“We’ll get you topside,” Troy said. “And come back down tomorrow with someone who knows how to follow rules!”
​
He shot Long a death glare before his radio crackled to life.
“Troy, everything good down there?” Craig asked.
“No, no it isn’t. One of the newbies got jumpy, shot at a centipede.” He huffed, “Put a hole in Peter in the process. Think you can reel him back up?”
“Yeah, sure thing. Hook him up. Tomas and I will bring him topside.”
​
Troy quietly hooked Peter up to the line, before helping him onto the ladder.
“You take it easy on the way up, and we’ll get that checked out,” He promised.
“Thanks boss,” Peter said quietly.
Troy’s attention returned to Long next, as he fixed him in a death glare.
“You, up the ladder behind him. And you…” He looked at me, his expression softening just a little.
“Behind him. I’ll go up last.”
​
Peter started to meekly climb the ladder, although it seemed like Craig and Tomas were doing most of the work, hoisting him up rung by rung. Once he’d made it part of the way up, Long started to hook himself up to climb behind him. Although before he could hook himself in, I saw him pause for a moment, staring at Troy.
“What is it?” Troy asked, before pausing.
​
Long craned his neck a little, his hand moving down to his gun again… and it was then that both Troy and I realized that he hadn’t been looking at Troy. He’d been looking at what was behind him.
​
I only saw a shadow, perched on the roof of the tunnel. But that was all that Long needed to see before he started shooting again.
“DON’T!”
But by the time Troy had gotten the word out, that trigger happy idiot had already started shooting again and this time, the thing that came for him didn’t drop dead.
​
Instead, it launched itself off of the ceiling of the tunnel, crashing into the ground a few feet away from me.
“WAIT!” Troy tried to protest before the thing in front of us knocked him aside, dashing him against the wall. Long scrambled away, retreating deeper into the tunnel while Peter frantically tried to unholster his gun.
“Troy? Troy, what’s going on down there?” I heard Craig calling over the radio, “Troy? Anyone, respond!”
​
The shape in front of us turned, looking over at me and Long. Eight eyes shone in the darkness and though I could only see the shadow of the creature before us, I saw enough. It had a body like a spider, with eight long chitinous legs. Only its body was much larger than any spider I’d ever seen before.
​
Much, much larger.
​
This creature was almost the size of a small car, but it wasn’t its size that terrified me. It was the humanoid torso coming out of the front of it. The two arms that ended in razor sharp claws, the snarling mouth that made noises that almost sounded human.
​
When this impossible thing looked at us, I saw real intelligence in its eyes. It was studying us, trying to determine how much of a threat we were…
​
Long kept his gun trained on it, hands shaking violently. I knew that he was going to shoot again, and hoping not to anger this thing, grabbed his arm, trying to force his gun down. He jumped the moment that I touched him giving me a hysterical look.
“Don’t!” I snapped, “You’re just gonna piss it off!”
​
The Spider took a step toward us, hissing as it did. Long pulled away from me.
“Stu!”
I tried calling his name, but Long had already made his choice and sealed his fate. He’d opted to fight this thing. And so, like the fool he was he shot at it again.
​
The Spider lunged for us.
​
I ran. Long didn’t.
​
He only had enough time to scream before it pounced on him, and then… all I could hear were the dying screams in his throat as he was pulled apart. I didn’t see him die. But I didn’t need to. I heard everything. I kept running, not even thinking about where the approach channel was going to end. And when it did end, all I could do was plummet into the darkness.
​
See, at the end of an approach channel is what is appropriately called a drop shaft. It’s where the water flows into a larger tunnel beneath the city. That tunnel, flows into the water treatment plant, eventually and the water down there… yeah… let’s just say that you don’t want to end up in the water down there.
​
Unfortunately, that was exactly where I was going.
​
I know that every job has its struggles, but I didn’t expect to need to choose between diving into raw sewage and fighting a giant spider monster when I woke up that morning. However the choice was presented to me and I did the best that I could given the circumstances.
​
Going into the wastewater was exactly an unpleasant experience as you’d think it would be. I’m inclined not to share the details of what it was like, simply because I genuinely do not want to remember them and I’m still not entirely convinced that dealing with the giant angry spider person wasn’t the better choice.
​
A small comfort was that the pain of hitting the water, combined with the confusing sensation of being flushed through a pipe and into an even larger pipe made the whole experience slightly less disgusting, at the cost of being considerably more painful.
​
At the end of it, I was washed out into the main pipe and collapsed into the water, covered in filth and gagging from the stench that had sank into my every pore. I felt disoriented and confused. I tried to stand, only to collapse back into the wastewater, before aimlessly looking around, hoping that maybe I could figure out what direction to go in. It was too dark to see much of anything and I’d lost my flashlight during my trip through the wastewater, so I was left to just wander aimlessly, following what I thought was the flow of the water as my eyes slowly started to acclimate to the darkness.
​
I could feel shapes in the water. Some of them I almost tripped over and I could smell rotting meat on top of the stink of human waste. In the darkness, I could make out shapes in the water and hear the buzzing of bugs around me. I could even feel a few whizz past my head and mindlessly swatted at them.
​
Old bones crunched under my boots, and I quietly thanked whatever God was listening that I couldn’t see what they’d belonged to. I wanted to assume they were animal bones… but who knew, right? I couldn’t shake the mental image of myself unknowingly stepping over the mauled corpse of Stewart Long… although that was more from the trauma of having recently witnessed a man die than any guilt over what had happened to him. Long had quite literally gotten himself killed. Although I was terrified that I’d be joining him at any second.
​
I kept listening in, half expecting to hear spider legs creeping up behind me. But it was impossible to tell if I was alone or not in that darkness and with the bugs buzzing past me. If there were anything after me, I truly would not know it until after it had pounced.
​
Still, I knew I couldn’t afford to let the fear get the better of me. So I just kept walking, hoping that maybe if I did, I’d somehow find myself at the water treatment plant and maybe then I’d get some help.
​
Maybe.
​
As I pressed on, I noticed a light ahead of me and picked up the pace, hoping to God that I’d finally found my way out of this mess. But as I drew closer, I became very aware that whatever the source of that light was, it was not from the water treatment plant.
​
In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. My first thought was that it was a fatberg (which is a solid mass of waste matter formed by an unholy mixture of wet wipes, grease, oil and every other piece of garbage people tend to flush down their toilets) but the longer I looked, the less certain I was about that.
​
Fatbergs usually didn’t have lamps embedded in them.
​
Fatbergs usually didn’t have thick spiderwebs clinging to them.
​
Fatbergs didn’t usually lead into a separate tunnel into the earth large enough for me to walk through.
​
And finally, fatbergs didn’t usually have dead deer protruding from them. Let alone dead deer with other bugs living in them. God… the sight of those corpses… the way the bugs crawled through the rotting flesh and exposed bone. The empty, hollow eyes… it was almost too horrible to look at.
​
And I swore that I could see things inside the corpses! Honeycombs of some sort, and the bugs who crawled around them looked almost like bees.
​
Was… was something cultivating some kind of bee in these things?
​
I thought back to Troy’s rules.
“Rule 4: If you find a body… and odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell, don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisor's time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they’re human.”
​
Suddenly, they made a little more sense. If those spider things were cultivating something in these bodies… of course we shouldn’t touch them. And if they were cultivating their food in the sewer… I paused, before staring down the tunnel that the corpses sat near the entrance of.
​
Dull lamps illuminated it as it wound down into the earth, and I could see several pale centipede things that looked a lot like the creature that Long had shot to get us into this mess in the first place. These things must have belonged to the Spiders too, although whether they were some sort of guard dog or another thing they were farming was hard to say.
​
I took a step away from the tunnel, before looking back to make sure that I was well enough alone and trudging onward. And that was when I heard the slow rustle of movement.
​
I paused, feeling a chill run through me as the imminent reality of my own death dawned on me.
​
Slowly I turned, just in time to see a dark shape descending from the ceiling. A fresh set of eyes settled on me, narrowing as they studied me.
​
I put my hands up, hoping that it might understand the gesture of surrender and slowly it drew closer to me. I wasn’t sure if it was curious, or looking to murder me and at that point, I don’t think it really mattered. I wish I could say that I faced my death with dignity, but I’m going to be honest, I didn’t. I sat there, quivering and praying to whatever God would listen that it wouldn’t, kill me.
​
And then… I heard a voice.
“Leave that one! He’s with me!”
​
Troy?
​
I saw a figure emerge from the tunnel in the wall, and against all logic, somehow it was Troy! He had a hell of a goose egg on his head from where he’d been hit earlier, but he was alive! He stepped between me and the spider person, arms outstretched.
​
“With me.” He repeated firmly.
The Spider stared down at him, before huffing and turning away. I watched as they disappeared down the nearby tunnel, and Troy watched them go, before quietly turning to me.
​
“Good lord, boy… I’m shocked to see you’re still alive!”
“W-what just happened?” Was the only thing I could stammer. “You can talk to them?!”
“Some of ‘em. I’ve been down here for long enough that they know me. Know I’m not a threat. But they ain’t too happy with us right now. So what you’re gonna do here is get up, follow me, and I’m gonna get you out of here.”
“How do you know they’re even gonna let us leave?” I asked.
​
Troy’s expression soured.
“Had to pay ‘em off…” He admitted, “Let them keep what was left of your friend. They considered it a fair trade, so long as we leave. Now, let’s go.”
I didn’t ask any more questions.
​
***
​
After I made it out of the sewers that day, I ended up in the hospital alongside Peter. I had some minor cuts and bruises, a burning rash over most of my body from all the sewage I’d been crawling around in… but I was still alive, and I figured that had to count for something.
​
Nobody said a word about what happened to Stewart Long down in the sewer. He got written off as a workplace accident and they never even tried to recover his body. I suspect what’s left of him is still down in the sewers, even now… feeding whatever it is that those things down there are cultivating, although I’ve never seen the body myself.
​
Yes… I have been back down beneath the southeast side of town. The next time they needed someone to go, they sent me and Tomas along with Troy, Craig and Peter. We know what’s down there and we know how to deal with them, after all. My second visit to those sewers was a lot less eventful, and most of my subsequent visits haven’t been all that eventful either.
​
Over the years, I’ve gotten better at dealing with the Spiders… they’re not the most friendly folk and I know all too well that if you cross them, they’ll rip your guts out before you even realize that you’re dead. But so long as you follow the rules and leave them alone, they’re content to live and let live. They can even be reasonable, to an extent. We’ve had a few small incidents over the years, but nothing like the one that Long caused.
​
Odds are, when Troy and Craig retire next year, Tomas and I will be training the next group on what to do when you’re down beneath the southeast side of town. So in preparation for that, I’ve made a point to keep a copy of Tom's rules in the pumphouse. I also keep a picture of Stewart Long in there. Not as a memorial and not out of spite either. Just as a grim reminder of what can happen when you don’t follow the [rules.](https://www.reddit.com/HeadOfSpectre/)

The way I see it, if you don’t notice that I exist, then I’m doing my job correctly.
​
My name is Ben McFarlane and I work as a municipal sewer inspector in the town of Tevam Sound, Ontario. It's not the most glamorous job, but hey, somebody's got to do it and it puts food on the table.
​
You'd probably think that working as a sewer inspector isn't that exciting… and yeah, for the most part you'd be right. Most of the time, all I'm doing is checking the pipes for damage. Unless there’s a reason for me to investigate a certain area, most of what I do is routine inspection, which helps ensure that the sewers remain in good working order. Trust me, nobody wants to see what happens when they aren’t.
​
Thankfully, a lot of what I do can be done without me needing to crawl through pipes. I can use a small camera to help me do the inspection. But with some of the larger pipes and cisterns, I need to actually go inside and take a look.
​
It’s never the best part of my day, but like I said before: somebody’s got to do it.
​
Going down into the bigger tunnels is always a little unnerving. Part of it is the claustrophobic atmosphere and part of it is the knowledge that you’re basically standing in a river of literal human waste. I can deal with it now, but back when I first started the smell alone was darn near impossible to deal with.
​
Ask most sanitation workers and I'm sure they'll have stories about what they've found in the sewers before. Heck, most of it isn't even stuff that people flush down the toilet. It's the stuff that people drop down manhole covers, or the stuff that gets washed into the sewers by the rain. Dead animals are surprisingly common, as are kids toys. I found an entire bicycle in the sewer once and I've got a buddy who found a loaded gun down there! Someone probably thought they'd get rid of it by just tossing it in the sewer.
​
Someone was wrong.
​
But of all the strange things I've experienced during my time working in the sewers… none of it compares to the stuff I see in the pipes on the southeast side of town.
​
The things down there… I don't usually like to talk about them. Heck, I might not even be legally allowed to talk about them. I guess we'll find out, won't we? I've had a few drinks tonight and I'm feeling particularly chatty. So why not spill the beans? Hey, maybe someone out there will tell me something I don’t already know.
​
I’d been on the job for about a year or so before getting sent to the southeast side of town. It’s closer to the lake and the downtown area, so there’s some deeper pipes there. I’d always figured that that was the reason they only really ever sent certain people down there. I’d heard that those tunnels were old and a little labyrinthian. Anyone who didn’t know what they were doing could easily get lost.
​
But after we got hit with a particularly nasty rain storm back in summer of 2013, they needed to send someone down to check on some sensors and I just so happened to be one of the guys who was available.
​
A bad rain storm can push a sewer system to its limit, so it wasn’t really that surprising that we’d gotten that kind of call and at the time, I didn’t think that there was anything that strange about it. My supervisor told me to head on down toward the pumphouse on the southwest side of town like it was any other priority inspection, and I went along with no questions asked. It was a few streets away from downtown. I’d seen it before but never had a reason to go inside up until then.
​
I was working with a couple of other newbies at the time, a guy by the name of Stewart Long who’d only been on the job for a round three months or so, and another guy by the name of Tomas Opunui who’d started around the same time that I had.
​
We’d arrived at the pumphouse, and when we got there we noticed another team waiting on us. This wasn’t too shocking either. Depending on the size of the job, they might’ve sent some other guys in to help us handle it.
​
The guy in charge was an older man who looked to be pushing sixty. He had sort of a ‘Santa Claus on summer vacation’ look, with white hair, a short white beard, a big beer belly and a no nonsense expression.
​
He watched us get out of his truck with a look of stern disapproval, before huffing and trudging over to us.
“Where’s the usual fellas?” He asked.
“I dunno, out. They called us,” I replied.
​
He didn’t seem to like that answer but didn’t say anything in response to it.
“You ever worked on the southeast approach channel before?” He asked.
“Yeah, we’ve been in the ones on the north side of town,” I said.
“That’s not what I asked, kid. You ever worked in this one before?”
​
Something about the way he asked this question struck me as a little odd. I’d worked in an approach channel before. I knew the drill. What did it matter which one I’d worked in?
​
For the unenlightened, an approach channel is a cistern filled with wastewater. They feed into a deep tunnel which feeds into a water treatment plant and they’re considered to be fairly dangerous, due to their depth (if you fall off the ladder on your way down, you’re in for a long drop into a biohazardous lake unless you’re properly tethered) and the harmful gasses that can accumulate in them. Standard operating procedure is to always test the air before entering one just to make sure that it’s even safe to breathe down there.
​
Being reckless while going into an approach channel is a recipe for disaster, and I would have understood if the old man was concerned about us not having dealt with one before. But the way he spoke to us implied that this one was different somehow, which didn’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense to me.
“What’s the difference?” I asked. “Same procedure, right?”
“No, not the same procedure. We need people experienced with this approach channel. These tunnels are a little different than what you’re used to.
“Look, the boss sent us here. So I’m sure we’ll manage,” Tomas said. “You can show us what we need to know.”
​
The Old Man didn’t respond to him. He just shook his head and turned away.
“I’m gonna call this in and clear it with the boss first. You three, don’t move until I get back.”
I traded a look with both Tomas and Long as the Old Man trudged away. He said something to the two guys who were with him, before getting back into his truck to make a call.
​
Part of me was obliged to try and just get to work. But looking at the other two guys that the Old Man had with him, I had a feeling that they’d try to stop me. One of them, another older guy with a receding hairline and a bushy moustache was watching us like a hawk.
​
So we waited.
​
After a few minutes, the Old Man got out of his truck again, said something to his buddy with the mustache and trudged back over to us.
“Bad news, fellas. Looks like our usual company’s retired… guess you’re the replacement.”
“So we can get to work?” I asked.
“Yeah. We can get to work,” The Old Man said. “Come on, let’s get going.”
​
With that, he turned and led us into the pumphouse.
“Suppose I might as well introduce myself. Names Troy. My colleagues here are Craig and Peter.”
He gestured to the two men who were with him, Mr. Moustache (who I assumed was Craig) and the other guy, who looked to be in his mid thirties and had sunken eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days. The one who I assumed was Craig just gave us a nod, while the guy I figured was Peter gave a lazy half wave before they followed us into the pumphouse.
“So if you don’t mind my asking, what’s so special about this channel?” I asked.
“I guess you’ll be seeing for yourself soon enough,” Troy replied as he started down a set of stairs. “The guys you’re replacing… well, guy… a fella named Tom… he always had a set of rules for working down here. He passed ‘em on to me and Craig when we started. We’ve passed ‘em on to Peter. Guess it’s time we passed ‘em on to you too.”
​
“Rules?” I asked, “What kind of rules?”
“The kind you listen very, very closely to, kid.” Troy looked back at me, before his eyes shifted to Tomas and Long behind me.
“Very, very closely.”
He descended the rest of the way down the stairs, where there was a hatch in the concrete floor beneath us, along with a large locker on the far side of the room.
​
“Rule number one,” Troy began. “You don’t enter this part of the sewers alone. You stay in a group of at least three to four at all times. No more, no less. Too many and it slows you down. Too few, and you might not come back at all.”
He trailed off, watching as Craig cracked open the hatch to test the air inside.
​
“Rule number two: You do not enter this part of the sewers without a gun and a radio.”
He opened the locker on the far side of the room and I was taken aback to see a collection of several handguns inside, along with boxes of ammunition and one shotgun in amongst the usual PPE.
Troy clipped one of the guns to his belt, along with one of the radios, before handing a pair off to Peter and looking over at us.
​
“Who’s taking it?” He asked.
“Whoa, just hold up for a minute!” Long interjected, “What the hell is down there?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Troy replied. “Hate to say it but it ain’t our job to know. I leave that to someone else. Our job is to follow the rules. You follow them, and you’ll be fine.”
Long seemed skeptical, but I looked at the gun in Troy’s hand and took it. I wasn’t sure if he was having a laugh with us or not, but I was there to do a job and I intended to do it.
​
Troy gave me a quiet nod, before thrusting the second gun over to Long. He didn’t seem to happy to get it.
“Are we gonna have to use these?” He asked.
“Not if you do as I say, you won’t. Rule 3: If you see a pipe or a tunnel with heavy spiderwebs, don’t go down it. Doesn’t matter if that’s where the sensor is. You make a note of it, report it to your supervisor and leave it alone.”
​
Spiderwebs? What the hell was he talking about?
“Rule 4: If you find a body… and odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell, don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisors time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they’re human.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve been finding human bodies down there?” I asked.
“Rarely,” He replied. “But it’s been known to happen. And if we do find one… the same rules apply. Don’t approach it. Don’t touch it. Stay as far away as possible.”
​
I could see some of the color draining from Long’s face.
“Rule 5: If you see anyone else down there, you are not to interact with them. You do not follow them if they try to lead you somewhere, if they ask you for help, you do not help them. I don’t care if they’re crying and begging. You leave them alone. You report it to your supervisor.”
“There are people down there?” I asked.
“Normally, no. Far as I know, Tom only ever ran into a couple during his career. I’ve only ever seen one. Like I said, best to leave them alone.”
​
“Why?” I asked, “If there’s someone stuck down there, we have an obligation to help them!”
“That would be very ill advised,” Troy said. “You don’t want to anger the things that are down there… which leads me to rule 6: Avoid killing anything you come across down there. They’re not yours to kill. And if you have absolutely no choice, if you have to break that rule for the sake of self defense, then we leave immediately. That’s rule number 7.”
​
“Air’s safe down there,” Craig said, interrupting our conversation.
“Good. Let’s get suited up, then. Oh… and rule 8. Final rule. If anything happens to any member of our team, we leave immediately. We don’t go after them. We don’t try to help them. We leave immediately. Is that clear? I don’t care if it’s me, begging you for help. You leave me behind.”
​
Long and I remained silent, neither of us entirely sure how to react to this or even what to say. Troy had made it sound as if we were about to descend into a level of hell. I couldn’t imagine what the hell could possibly be down there to elicit a list of rules like that, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find out either!
“Well? You fellas getting ready or not?” Troy asked impatiently as he put on his PPE. “The quicker we get down there, the quicker we can get out again!”
​
“If this is so dangerous, why are they sending us?” Long asked, “Shouldn’t they be sending… I dunno, the cops or something?”
“They tolerate us being down there, so long as we don’t disturb them. They wouldn’t be so forgiving toward the local police,” Troy replied. “Listen, kid. Obey the rules and you’ll be fine, got that? We’ve been doing this for years without any problems. You keep your head on your shoulders, you do what we say and you go home safe. Alright?”
​
Long still didn’t seem convinced, but I did. By this point, I was morbidly curious about exactly what was down there… and Troy’s assurance that they’d come out unscathed before did set me at ease a little bit. These rules sounded kinda scary, but what could realistically go wrong? With Troy keeping us in line, everything would probably be fine and besides, I still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all some sort of elaborate prank the old man was pulling. I grabbed myself a set of PPE and got ready and after a moments hesitation, Long did the same.
​
When we were ready, Craig opened up the hatch in the floor, and Tomas helped get us tethered so that we wouldn’t plummet down into the waters below if we slipped on the ladder, then we finally began our descent.
​
Troy went first, climbing down the ladder and into the darkness below. I went second, followed by Peter and followed by Long.
​
We climbed down into the approach channel in relative silence, only really speaking again once we made it to the bottom of the ladder.
​
Troy helped me get untethered, before doing the same for Peter and Long as they reached the bottom, and while he did that I got my first look at the dreaded southeast approach channel. I can’t say that there was a heck of a lot to see. The walls were boxy and flat, and the dirty wastewater trickled over my boots and into the pipe sending it even deeper through the sewer system.
​
The sensors should have been mounted on the ceiling, and I traced the black conduit line with my flashlight as I searched for the sensor they connected to. Peter and Long stayed back as Tomas and Craig lowered our tools down after us, while Troy came up behind me.
“Should be quick work…” He noted, “Rain doesn’t seem to have done much in here. Water level is still fairly low.”
​
I saw his flashlight shift upward toward the ceiling before he spotted the sensor. He trudged through the water to get closer to it, and I followed him.
“No external damage,” I noted. “Conduit lines look good too.”
“Yeah, we’ll run our tests and get out of here,” Troy said. “Approach channel is usually pretty safe… usually.”
“Usually?” I asked, and Troy pointed his flashlight up toward a set of silky spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling a few feet behind the sensor.
​
“They don’t typically come up here… but every now and then you might find some proof of some young ones, trying to get into the pumphouse.”
I looked over at him.
“They try to break into the pumphouse?” I asked, “Did they ever get in?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard of. Can’t imagine they’d stay long if they did. Nothing to eat in there.”
“What exactly are they?” I asked, “And don’t you tell me that’s not for us to know. You’ve seen them, right? What do they look like?”
​
Troy had started to answer, when suddenly I heard Long screaming and swearing up a storm. Both of us turned to look, just in time to see something large skittering up the wall beside him. I only caught a brief glimpse of it, but it seemed to be roughly the size of a dog with more legs than I could count. Long stared at it with wide, horrified eyes as he fumbled with his gun, before pulling it free.
​
I saw Troy’s eyes widen before Long fired five times. Only one or two of the bullets actually hit the target. I heard Peter cry out in pain and grab at his arm before falling and whatever it was that Long had actually been shooting at collapsed into the shallow water, its pale body twitching violently.
“What did you just do?!” Troy demanded, running over to Peter’s side.
“I-it was coming for me!” Long protested, before noticing what he’d done to Peter. I saw his eyes widen in horror.
“Oh no… no, no, no… I didn’t…”
“Rule 6! You don’t kill anything down here! You leave them alone and they leave you alone!” Troy roared, before his attention returned to Peter. “How bad is it?”
​
“J-just a scratch, boss… I think I got hit by the ricochet,” Peter said, as Troy inspected his wound. I’ve never seen a gunshot wound before, but there was a lot of blood for it to just be a scratch.
“We’ll get you topside,” Troy said. “And come back down tomorrow with someone who knows how to follow rules!”
​
He shot Long a death glare before his radio crackled to life.
“Troy, everything good down there?” Craig asked.
“No, no it isn’t. One of the newbies got jumpy, shot at a centipede.” He huffed, “Put a hole in Peter in the process. Think you can reel him back up?”
“Yeah, sure thing. Hook him up. Tomas and I will bring him topside.”
​
Troy quietly hooked Peter up to the line, before helping him onto the ladder.
“You take it easy on the way up, and we’ll get that checked out,” He promised.
“Thanks boss,” Peter said quietly.
Troy’s attention returned to Long next, as he fixed him in a death glare.
“You, up the ladder behind him. And you…” He looked at me, his expression softening just a little.
“Behind him. I’ll go up last.”
​
Peter started to meekly climb the ladder, although it seemed like Craig and Tomas were doing most of the work, hoisting him up rung by rung. Once he’d made it part of the way up, Long started to hook himself up to climb behind him. Although before he could hook himself in, I saw him pause for a moment, staring at Troy.
“What is it?” Troy asked, before pausing.
​
Long craned his neck a little, his hand moving down to his gun again… and it was then that both Troy and I realized that he hadn’t been looking at Troy. He’d been looking at what was behind him.
​
I only saw a shadow, perched on the roof of the tunnel. But that was all that Long needed to see before he started shooting again.
“DON’T!”
But by the time Troy had gotten the word out, that trigger happy idiot had already started shooting again and this time, the thing that came for him didn’t drop dead.
​
Instead, it launched itself off of the ceiling of the tunnel, crashing into the ground a few feet away from me.
“WAIT!” Troy tried to protest before the thing in front of us knocked him aside, dashing him against the wall. Long scrambled away, retreating deeper into the tunnel while Peter frantically tried to unholster his gun.
“Troy? Troy, what’s going on down there?” I heard Craig calling over the radio, “Troy? Anyone, respond!”
​
The shape in front of us turned, looking over at me and Long. Eight eyes shone in the darkness and though I could only see the shadow of the creature before us, I saw enough. It had a body like a spider, with eight long chitinous legs. Only its body was much larger than any spider I’d ever seen before.
​
Much, much larger.
​
This creature was almost the size of a small car, but it wasn’t its size that terrified me. It was the humanoid torso coming out of the front of it. The two arms that ended in razor sharp claws, the snarling mouth that made noises that almost sounded human.
​
When this impossible thing looked at us, I saw real intelligence in its eyes. It was studying us, trying to determine how much of a threat we were…
​
Long kept his gun trained on it, hands shaking violently. I knew that he was going to shoot again, and hoping not to anger this thing, grabbed his arm, trying to force his gun down. He jumped the moment that I touched him giving me a hysterical look.
“Don’t!” I snapped, “You’re just gonna piss it off!”
​
The Spider took a step toward us, hissing as it did. Long pulled away from me.
“Stu!”
I tried calling his name, but Long had already made his choice and sealed his fate. He’d opted to fight this thing. And so, like the fool he was he shot at it again.
​
The Spider lunged for us.
​
I ran. Long didn’t.
​
He only had enough time to scream before it pounced on him, and then… all I could hear were the dying screams in his throat as he was pulled apart. I didn’t see him die. But I didn’t need to. I heard everything. I kept running, not even thinking about where the approach channel was going to end. And when it did end, all I could do was plummet into the darkness.
​
See, at the end of an approach channel is what is appropriately called a drop shaft. It’s where the water flows into a larger tunnel beneath the city. That tunnel, flows into the water treatment plant, eventually and the water down there… yeah… let’s just say that you don’t want to end up in the water down there.
​
Unfortunately, that was exactly where I was going.
​
I know that every job has its struggles, but I didn’t expect to need to choose between diving into raw sewage and fighting a giant spider monster when I woke up that morning. However the choice was presented to me and I did the best that I could given the circumstances.
​
Going into the wastewater was exactly an unpleasant experience as you’d think it would be. I’m inclined not to share the details of what it was like, simply because I genuinely do not want to remember them and I’m still not entirely convinced that dealing with the giant angry spider person wasn’t the better choice.
​
A small comfort was that the pain of hitting the water, combined with the confusing sensation of being flushed through a pipe and into an even larger pipe made the whole experience slightly less disgusting, at the cost of being considerably more painful.
​
At the end of it, I was washed out into the main pipe and collapsed into the water, covered in filth and gagging from the stench that had sank into my every pore. I felt disoriented and confused. I tried to stand, only to collapse back into the wastewater, before aimlessly looking around, hoping that maybe I could figure out what direction to go in. It was too dark to see much of anything and I’d lost my flashlight during my trip through the wastewater, so I was left to just wander aimlessly, following what I thought was the flow of the water as my eyes slowly started to acclimate to the darkness.
​
I could feel shapes in the water. Some of them I almost tripped over and I could smell rotting meat on top of the stink of human waste. In the darkness, I could make out shapes in the water and hear the buzzing of bugs around me. I could even feel a few whizz past my head and mindlessly swatted at them.
​
Old bones crunched under my boots, and I quietly thanked whatever God was listening that I couldn’t see what they’d belonged to. I wanted to assume they were animal bones… but who knew, right? I couldn’t shake the mental image of myself unknowingly stepping over the mauled corpse of Stewart Long… although that was more from the trauma of having recently witnessed a man die than any guilt over what had happened to him. Long had quite literally gotten himself killed. Although I was terrified that I’d be joining him at any second.
​
I kept listening in, half expecting to hear spider legs creeping up behind me. But it was impossible to tell if I was alone or not in that darkness and with the bugs buzzing past me. If there were anything after me, I truly would not know it until after it had pounced.
​
Still, I knew I couldn’t afford to let the fear get the better of me. So I just kept walking, hoping that maybe if I did, I’d somehow find myself at the water treatment plant and maybe then I’d get some help.
​
Maybe.
​
As I pressed on, I noticed a light ahead of me and picked up the pace, hoping to God that I’d finally found my way out of this mess. But as I drew closer, I became very aware that whatever the source of that light was, it was not from the water treatment plant.
​
In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. My first thought was that it was a fatberg (which is a solid mass of waste matter formed by an unholy mixture of wet wipes, grease, oil and every other piece of garbage people tend to flush down their toilets) but the longer I looked, the less certain I was about that.
​
Fatbergs usually didn’t have lamps embedded in them.
​
Fatbergs usually didn’t have thick spiderwebs clinging to them.
​
Fatbergs didn’t usually lead into a separate tunnel into the earth large enough for me to walk through.
​
And finally, fatbergs didn’t usually have dead deer protruding from them. Let alone dead deer with other bugs living in them. God… the sight of those corpses… the way the bugs crawled through the rotting flesh and exposed bone. The empty, hollow eyes… it was almost too horrible to look at.
​
And I swore that I could see things inside the corpses! Honeycombs of some sort, and the bugs who crawled around them looked almost like bees.
​
Was… was something cultivating some kind of bee in these things?
​
I thought back to Troy’s rules.
“Rule 4: If you find a body… and odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell, don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisor's time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they’re human.”
​
Suddenly, they made a little more sense. If those spider things were cultivating something in these bodies… of course we shouldn’t touch them. And if they were cultivating their food in the sewer… I paused, before staring down the tunnel that the corpses sat near the entrance of.
​
Dull lamps illuminated it as it wound down into the earth, and I could see several pale centipede things that looked a lot like the creature that Long had shot to get us into this mess in the first place. These things must have belonged to the Spiders too, although whether they were some sort of guard dog or another thing they were farming was hard to say.
​
I took a step away from the tunnel, before looking back to make sure that I was well enough alone and trudging onward. And that was when I heard the slow rustle of movement.
​
I paused, feeling a chill run through me as the imminent reality of my own death dawned on me.
​
Slowly I turned, just in time to see a dark shape descending from the ceiling. A fresh set of eyes settled on me, narrowing as they studied me.
​
I put my hands up, hoping that it might understand the gesture of surrender and slowly it drew closer to me. I wasn’t sure if it was curious, or looking to murder me and at that point, I don’t think it really mattered. I wish I could say that I faced my death with dignity, but I’m going to be honest, I didn’t. I sat there, quivering and praying to whatever God would listen that it wouldn’t, kill me.
​
And then… I heard a voice.
“Leave that one! He’s with me!”
​
Troy?
​
I saw a figure emerge from the tunnel in the wall, and against all logic, somehow it was Troy! He had a hell of a goose egg on his head from where he’d been hit earlier, but he was alive! He stepped between me and the spider person, arms outstretched.
​
“With me.” He repeated firmly.
The Spider stared down at him, before huffing and turning away. I watched as they disappeared down the nearby tunnel, and Troy watched them go, before quietly turning to me.
​
“Good lord, boy… I’m shocked to see you’re still alive!”
“W-what just happened?” Was the only thing I could stammer. “You can talk to them?!”
“Some of ‘em. I’ve been down here for long enough that they know me. Know I’m not a threat. But they ain’t too happy with us right now. So what you’re gonna do here is get up, follow me, and I’m gonna get you out of here.”
“How do you know they’re even gonna let us leave?” I asked.
​
Troy’s expression soured.
“Had to pay ‘em off…” He admitted, “Let them keep what was left of your friend. They considered it a fair trade, so long as we leave. Now, let’s go.”
I didn’t ask any more questions.
​
***
​
After I made it out of the sewers that day, I ended up in the hospital alongside Peter. I had some minor cuts and bruises, a burning rash over most of my body from all the sewage I’d been crawling around in… but I was still alive, and I figured that had to count for something.
​
Nobody said a word about what happened to Stewart Long down in the sewer. He got written off as a workplace accident and they never even tried to recover his body. I suspect what’s left of him is still down in the sewers, even now… feeding whatever it is that those things down there are cultivating, although I’ve never seen the body myself.
​
Yes… I have been back down beneath the southeast side of town. The next time they needed someone to go, they sent me and Tomas along with Troy, Craig and Peter. We know what’s down there and we know how to deal with them, after all. My second visit to those sewers was a lot less eventful, and most of my subsequent visits haven’t been all that eventful either.
​
Over the years, I’ve gotten better at dealing with the Spiders… they’re not the most friendly folk and I know all too well that if you cross them, they’ll rip your guts out before you even realize that you’re dead. But so long as you follow the rules and leave them alone, they’re content to live and let live. They can even be reasonable, to an extent. We’ve had a few small incidents over the years, but nothing like the one that Long caused.
​
Odds are, when Troy and Craig retire next year, Tomas and I will be training the next group on what to do when you’re down beneath the southeast side of town. So in preparation for that, I’ve made a point to keep a copy of Tom's rules in the pumphouse. I also keep a picture of Stewart Long in there. Not as a memorial and not out of spite either. Just as a grim reminder of what can happen when you don’t follow the rules.

Please check part 1 and 2 for context.
The Tonpa Kingdoms Part 1 (Overview and The Gods) : worldbuilding (reddit.com)
The Tonpa Kingdoms Part 2 (The Kingdoms of Jangshun and Monyul) : worldbuilding (reddit.com)
Tsaparang
Tsaparang is a Kingdom to the east of the other Tonpa Kingdoms, it is marked by thick jungles and winding rivers, a small number of mountains dot the landscape to the west, on the border with Jangshun and Monyul.
The jungles of Tsaparang are known for their dense vegetation and towering trees, with rivers that cut through the landscape and create a network of waterways. The jungle clearings are dotted with small villages, where the people of Tsaparang live and work in harmony with nature.
The people of Tsaparang have learned to live with the challenges of the jungle environment, including the risk of flooding during the rainy season and the dangers posed by wild animals. Despite these challenges, the jungle provides a wealth of resources for the people, including medicinal plants, exotic fruits, and valuable timber. The villagers have developed their own unique way of life, with a deep respect for the natural world and a strong sense of community. They work together to maintain their homes and farms, and to protect the jungle from outsiders who might seek to exploit its resources.
The kingdom of Tsaparang was founded by a legendary warrior king named Raja Dhananj, who converted to Tonpa and united several smaller kingdoms in the area left over from the Indraprastha Empire under his rule, he named it after a fortress city on the border of Monyul that was essential to his victory, he eventually built a grand capital city on the banks of the Brahmaputra River, which he named after himself – Dhananjpur.
The city is a bustling center of trade and commerce, and soon became known throughout the region for its wealth and prosperity. Over time, Dhananjpur grew into a magnificent city, with grand palaces, beautiful temples, and bustling markets, the most famous of which is the floating markets called Jalbazaar.
Jalbazaar is situated on the banks of the Brahmaputra River, which flows through the heart of the district. The district is famous for its bustling waterways, where vendors sell their wares from boats and barges that are moored along the riverbank. The floating markets of Jalbazaar are a riot of color and activity, with vendors hawking their wares to eager customers. The markets sell everything from fresh produce and seafood to handicrafts and textiles. The markets are busiest in the early morning, when fishermen bring in their catch from the river and vendors begin setting up their stalls. The air is filled with the smells of spices, cooking food, and fresh flowers, creating a heady atmosphere that is unique to Jalbazaar. Visitors to the floating markets can sample a wide variety of local delicacies, including steaming bowls of spicy fish curry, crispy fritters made from lentils and vegetables, and sweet desserts made from coconut and mango.
To the west of Dannajpur lies the village of Pashupati, the village sits on the edge of a dense jungle, its thatched-roof houses built on stilts to protect them from flooding during the monsoon season. At the center of the village is an ancient temple dedicated to the Dharmist God Pashupati, said to have been built by a powerful Thakur long ago. However, the temple has fallen into disrepair over the centuries, and now it is overrun with large cats, both tame and wild. The villagers believe that the cats are the guardians of the temple, and they feed and care for them as best they can. Some of the cats are even considered sacred, and are allowed to roam freely throughout the village. Despite the presence of the cats and the fact that the villagers abandoned Dharmism for Tonpa over a hundred years ago, the temple is still an important place of for the villagers, the temple's crumbling walls are adorned with faded murals depicting scenes from ancient legends and there is a sense of mystery and magic that pervades the place. Outsiders aren't rare in the village as it sits along an important road between two cities, but the villagers are wary of strangers who do not respect the cats, the temple or their ancient ways. However, they are hospitable and generous to those who show the cats respect and kindness.
The second most populous city in Tsaparang is called Serindia, it is nestled in the heart of a lush green valley, surrounded by towering cliffs on all sides, this small community has long been known for its bustling markets and vibrant culture. At the center of town, stands a magnificent castle, home to the ruling family of Serindia. Built from the finest stone and marble, the castle boasts towering walls and a grand hall where the noble lords and ladies of the land convene to discuss matters of great importance. But it's not just the castle that makes Serindia special. Just outside of town lies a sprawling grove of wild mango trees, known throughout the region for their delicious, juicy fruit. Every year, travelers from far and wide come to Serindia to sample the famous mangoes and to attend the lively festivals that celebrate the town's bountiful harvest.
The Company of the Wind have a large office in Serendia as every year people request them to deliver these magnificent mangoes so often.
As you wander the winding streets of Serindia, you'll encounter a diverse array of merchants and craftsmen, each offering unique wares and trades. You might stop by the blacksmith's shop to watch as he expertly hammers out a new sword, or perhaps you'll visit the town's resident healer, who is renowned for her ability to cure all manner of ailments.
The kingdom of Tsaparang is renowned for its skilled craftsmen and artisans, who create beautiful textiles, intricate jewelry, and exquisite pottery. The kingdom is also famous for its fine cuisine, which blends the flavors of local spices with influences from neighboring regions. Tsaparang has been ruled by a succession of wise and just kings and queens, who are respected and loved by their subjects. The royal palace is a grand structure, with beautiful gardens and courtyards, and is home to a vast library that contained works of literature and philosophy from throughout the world. The kingdom of Tsaparang is also known for its military might, and its armies are feared by neighboring kingdoms. However, the rulers of Tsaparang prefer diplomacy and trade over war, and are respected for their ability to negotiate peaceful solutions to disputes, the most famous army regiment of the Kingdom is called The Jungle Snakes.
The Jungle Snakes is a feared and respected regiment of soldiers who are known for their unique and deadly combination of a large tower shield and a short spear, this is meant to emulate a snake striking from the foliage of the jungle while the large shield allows the user to strike from safety. The soldiers of the Jungle Snakes are expert fighters, they train in their own unique martial art which requires them to train in the use of whip-swords, a sword made with a flexible whip like blade, although relatively useless in a large scale battle these swords are deadly in one-on-one fights and it is believed training with them develops agility and hand eye coordination. The Jungle Snakes is made up of elite soldiers who are chosen for their physical strength, agility, and quick reflexes, they are fiercely loyal to their kingdom and their commanders, and are known for their bravery and determination in battle. The Jungle Snakes are key component of the Tsaparang army, and are often called upon to guard royalty in battle. Their unique weapon and fighting style make them a formidable opponent, and they are feared and respected by enemies and allies alike.
Tashigang
Nestled deep within a treacherous and barely hospitable mountain range lies the kingdom of Taishigang, protected by rugged terrain and guarded by fiercely loyal soldiers. The people of this kingdom are rugged and tough, accustomed to the harsh conditions of their environment and deeply connected to the land that sustains them.
The tallest mountain in the known world is nestled within its borders, it is a revered holy site believed to be the last place on Earth the physical forms of the Three Gods were seen.
Taishigang is named after the two main ethnic groups that reside in the area, the Taishi and the Gangparan, occupying the north-west and the south-east respectively, the Taishi are said to be early cousins of the Jangshun people who migrated into the area hundreds of years before and the Gangparan are a group of people who escaped from the fall of the Indraprastha empire by migrating to the mountains. The kingdom is ruled by a council of clan leaders, with one among them being High Chief and first among equals, these leaders are chosen by their clans for their strength, cunning, and wisdom and in turn these leaders choose one among them to be High Chief, these leaders make decisions that affect the entire kingdom, and they are known for their fierce loyalty to the land and the people. The economy of the kingdom is based on mining and lumber, with the rugged landscape yielding valuable minerals and timber. The inhabitants of the kingdom work as miners and lumberjacks, extracting these resources from the earth and using them to build their homes and defenses.
Taishigang is home to a religious order of healers called “The Order of Spring” who are a a highly respected group of monks, the members of this order are known for their extensive knowledge of herbal medicine and natural remedies, as well as their spiritual practices that are believed to aid in the healing process. The Order of Spring has a long-standing tradition of passing down their healing techniques and knowledge from generation to generation, ensuring that their skills and expertise are not lost over time they are highly revered by the people of Taishigang, who often seek their help when they are sick or injured. Due to the harsh climate and rugged terrain of Taishigang, the Order of Spring has developed unique healing methods that are tailored to the specific challenges of the environment. They are experts in treating frostbite, hypothermia, altitude sickness, and other ailments that are common in cold, mountainous regions.
The members of the Order of Spring are dedicated to their craft and often travel far and wide in search of rare and unique ingredients to use in their remedies. They are known to journey deep into the mountain ranges and even venture into neighboring kingdoms to track down plants and herbs that are believed to hold powerful healing properties. Despite their extensive knowledge and skills, the healers of the Order of Spring are humble and compassionate. They offer their services to anyone in need, regardless of their social status or wealth. It is said that their selfless dedication to healing has helped to foster a strong sense of community and trust within the kingdom of Taishigang. The capital city of Taishigang is called Dzonggar, which means "fortress on the mountain" in the ancient language of the region. It is situated on a massive mountain peak that is over 4,000 meters high, with steep cliffs and a treacherous climb to reach the top. The city is built on multiple levels that follow the contours of the mountain, with each level connected by steep staircases and winding paths. The uppermost level of Dzonggar is the highest point in the city and is home to the Dragar Dzong, which serves as the administrative center for the region.
The Dzong is an imposing fortress with thick walls, ornate carvings, and intricate murals depicting scenes from Tonpa mythology. The upper level is also home to several important temples and monasteries that offer stunning views of the surrounding mountains. As one descends the mountain, the levels become more densely populated with homes and businesses. The middle levels of the city are home to bustling marketplaces, where merchants sell everything from spices to textiles to pottery. The lower levels of the city are home to workshops and industry, where artisans create beautiful handicrafts using traditional techniques. The city's buildings are made of stone and wood, with sloping roofs to withstand heavy snowfall. The streets are narrow and winding, with small shops and homes perched on the edge of the mountain. Each level of the city is connected by steep staircases and winding paths, making navigation through the city a challenging but rewarding experience. Despite its rugged location and challenging terrain, Dzonggar is a bustling city with a vibrant culture.
The people of Dzonggar are known for their colorful textiles, intricate woodcarvings, and exquisite metalwork. The city is also famous for its festivals, which are held throughout the year to celebrate the changing seasons, important religious holidays, and the city's rich cultural heritage. The military of the kingdom is composed of skilled rangers and guerilla warriors, trained to navigate the treacherous mountain terrain and to use it to their advantage. The rangers are experts in archery and hunting, the most famous regiment from Taishigang is called The Mountain Demons.
The Mountain Demons are an elite fighting force said to be established by the Lhakpa dynasty, the Mountain Demons only take the tallest of warriors some are said to reach up to 2 meters high, when one is chosen they go on a diet of carbs and protein to gain body mass, their training regiment consists of lifting heavy things and running long distances carrying heavy boulders, in battle they carry massive heavy weapons like hammers, clubs and sometimes even heavy metal gloves. Taishigang is home to the famous Druk-Lha Tsham, the Dragon-Tooth Forest, an expansive woodland that stretches across the western part of the Kingdom. The forest is named after the imposing mountain range that rises up from the trees like the teeth of a dragon.
The forest is home to a diverse array of flora and fauna, including towering pine trees, colorful wildflowers, and a variety of wildlife such as deer, foxes, and even the occasional black bear, streams and rivers flow through the forest in the summer, providing water for the plants and animals that call it home. Despite its natural beauty, the Dragon-Tooth Forest is also home to danger. Bandits and outlaws are known to hide within its depths, preying on travelers who venture too far from the safety of the nearby villages.
The forest is home to the village of Kulik a unique place where the houses are built high among the trees, the villagers live in beautiful treehouses connected by a network of wooden bridges that wind their way through the forest. The houses are made from local wood and are decorated with carvings of animals and intricate patterns. Some houses have balconies where the villagers can sit and enjoy the beautiful views of the forest.
The village has a central meeting place where the villagers gather to socialize and discuss village matters, the meeting place is just outside the only stone building in the village, the Lalimamandir, said to be a stone temple dedicated to the Dharmist God Lalima but repurposed into the home of the ruling Gurung Clan, the Gurung, saw similarities between Lalima and Caihong, who after a lengthy purification process instead dedicated the building to The Mother but kept the original name to honour the builders. The villagers are self-sufficient and grow their own food in small gardens and farms scattered throughout the forest. They also hunt and fish in the nearby rivers and streams. The villagers are known for their hospitality and welcome visitors with open arms, inviting them to stay in their beautiful treehouses and share in their way of life.
The people of the kingdom of Taishigang hold a special reverence for Caihong for it is her practical ways that help them survive the rugged terrain. The people of the kingdom have a rich artistic and musical tradition, heavily influenced by their connection to the land and the animals. They are known for their intricate carvings, woven textiles, and colorful paintings, as well as their haunting music and dance.
Khotesh
Khotesh is a kingdom to the west, most of it is located in a vast and arid desert, with small portion of the Kingdom located on grassy planes and snow-capped mountains. The kingdom is known for its rugged terrain, with towering sand dunes, rocky outcroppings, and deep canyons. Most of its people are former nomads who converted to the religion of Tonpa and settled in one place, but there are still some nomadic people who travel with their herds across the desert. The people of Khotesh practice religion fervently, with Tonpa's teachings serving as the foundation for their daily lives. Their art and architecture reflect the influence of the Three Gods, with intricate carvings and paintings of Tonpa and his disciples adorning the walls of many buildings in the kingdom. The kingdom is ruled by a powerful monarch who resides in a grand palace in the capital city of Khanbalik. The palace is a majestic structure with domed roofs and intricate carvings, surrounded by lush gardens and fountains. Despite the harshness of the environment, the people of Khotesh have a rich cultural heritage. They are proud of their nomadic roots, and many still wear traditional clothing and practice traditional customs. The former nomads who settled in one place have formed close-knit communities, and their hospitality to travelers is legendary. Its capital city; Khanbalik is a built upon the grassy plains of the hills to the east of the Kingdom. The city is situated at the junction of several trade routes, which has made it a hub of commerce and culture. Its walls are made of wood and earth, with watchtowers at regular intervals to provide defense against raiders and invaders. The city is known for its harsh and unpredictable climate, with hot winds blowing in from the desert and cold winds descending from the mountains. These winds collide over Khanbalik, creating powerful storms that batter the city every autumn and spring. The storms bring heavy rains, lightning, and hail, making travel and trade difficult during these seasons, it is said that the sun-showers that regularly bathe the city in this time are a meeting of the Three Gods as the Sun, Wind and Rain are all aspects of Caihong, Druk-Ta and Daiden respectively, people often dance in the streets when a sun-shower happens. Despite the challenges posed by the climate, Khanbalik remains a vibrant and bustling city. The streets are crowded with people from all walks of life, from wealthy merchants to wandering nomads. The city is divided into districts based on trade and social status, with the grandest buildings located near the center of the city. The palace of the ruling Khan is one of the most impressive structures in Khanbalik, with ornate wooden carvings and sweeping roofs that curve upward like the wings of a bird. The temple district is also a popular destination for visitors to the city, with a variety of religions represented in the many shrines and sanctuaries.
Khanbalik is not only a bustling hub of commerce and culture, but it is also a melting pot of different ethnic groups and cultures. One of the unique features of Khanbalik is the seasonal influx of nomads who come to the city a few times a year during the changing of the seasons. As the seasons shift from summer to autumn and from winter to spring, nomadic herders from the surrounding grasslands and mountains make their way to Khanbalik to trade goods, socialize, and partake in the city's offerings. The changing of the seasons is a time of celebration and renewal, and the nomads play an important role in this cycle. During the autumn season, nomads bring with them fresh produce such as fruits, vegetables, and grains. They also bring livestock such as sheep, goats, and horses to sell in the city's markets. In turn, they purchase items such as tools, clothing, and other necessities that they cannot produce on their own. In the spring, nomads return to Khanbalik with wool, meat, and dairy products from their herds. They also bring with them handmade crafts such as felt blankets, rugs, and clothing, which they trade for goods that will sustain them throughout the summer months. The seasonal exchange between the nomads and the city-dwellers is an important part of the culture and economy of Khanbalik. It fosters a sense of community and interdependence between the different groups, and it has been a tradition for generations.
One of the most interesting places in Khotesh is the town of Rokhala, a town carved into a towering sandstone cliff that rises high above the surrounding plains, the town's location is strategic, as it is nestled in a valley along a popular trade route, making it a profitable place for a settlement, the entrance to the town is a narrow, winding path that cuts into the cliff face, providing a natural defense against invaders. The town is built in a series of caves and carved out of sandstone, with buildings made from the same material, the structures are connected by narrow walkways, staircases, and bridges that cross over the canyon below. The town has a unique charm with its rustic stone architecture and winding passageways that twist and turn, creating an intriguing labyrinth of alleys and streets. The town has a diverse population, including traders, craftsmen, and mushroom farmers who make use of shallow caves to grow them in.
The town is home to a massive sandstone mining operation that exports sandstone all over the known world, sandstone from Rokhala is seen in the Confucian Kingdoms to the East, the Dharmist Kingdoms to the South and even the Caliphist and Mazdan Kingdoms to the West. Another interesting sight in the deserts of Khotesh is Altan Gazar, a bustling caravan that travels in harmony with the seasonal migration of a massive herd of Ibex, tents and yurts, woven from the finest camel and goat hair, are packed up and loaded onto sturdy pack animals as the city prepares to move to its next destination, the inhabitants are skilled in the art of packing and unpacking, swiftly transforming their temporary dwellings into a well-organized mobile settlement. As the herd of Ibex moves across the arid landscape, guided by the keen eyes of the city's inhabitants, the nomadic city follows in its wake, the city's layout is flexible and adaptable, with a central encampment for the tribal leader and their entourage, surrounded by the dwellings of other important individuals and their families. Water is a precious commodity in the desert, and the city relies on natural springs and wells discovered along the migration route, the inhabitants are experts in locating and utilizing these hidden water sources, carefully managing their usage to sustain their community and animals throughout their journey, rainwater is also collected during rare showers and stored in large containers for times when water is scarce.
The Ibex is an integral part of life to Altan Gazar, most adults carry a drinking horn made of Ibex horn, Ibex meat is regularly consumed in the spring with various spices found in the semi-arid grassy plains of their spring migration pattern, Ibex blood is sometimes drunk when water is scarce, fermented Ibex milk is a regular drink among the adults and Ibex skins are worn during cold winter nights. The city's architecture is designed to be lightweight and portable, with structures made of woven mats, reeds, and mud bricks. The city's inhabitants are skilled in constructing and deconstructing their homes as they move, utilizing locally available materials. Life in the nomadic city is intertwined with the rhythm of the desert and the migratory patterns of the Ibex. The inhabitants have a deep bond with their animals, particularly camels, which are used for transportation, milk, and meat. The city is a hub of trade and commerce, with merchants and traders from nearby towns and villages joining the city's journey, bartering for goods and services along the way.
The army of Khotesh is renowned for its hardiness and combat prowess in desert conditions. The kingdom has a long history of fending off invasions and raids from neighboring regions, and its army is specifically trained to operate effectively in desert terrain. The soldiers of Khotesh are known for their ruggedness and resilience, with many of them hailing from nomadic backgrounds. They are skilled in mounted combat, with cavalry units comprising a significant portion of the army. These cavalry units are particularly adept at hit-and-run tactics, using their speed and mobility to strike quickly and then retreat before the enemy can respond.
In addition to cavalry, the army of Khotesh also includes infantry units that specialize in desert warfare. These soldiers are trained to navigate harsh terrain and extreme temperatures, and they are equipped with light armor and weapons that are well-suited for the desert environment. They are skilled in using terrain to their advantage, and are adept at setting ambushes and launching surprise attacks. One of the unique features of the Khotesh army is their use of desert animals in combat. The kingdom is home to a variety of animals that have been domesticated and trained for military purposes, including camels and falcons. Camels are particularly useful in desert warfare due to their ability to traverse long distances with little water, and they are often used to transport soldiers and supplies across the harsh desert terrain. Falcons, on the other hand, are used for scouting and reconnaissance, and are trained to locate and track enemy troops.
The most famous army regiment of Khotesh is called The Scorpions, they are renowned desert survivalists and lone assassins, but in times of battle they are called upon to form a vanguard for the ruling Khan or Khanum, alone they are formidable but as a unit they are immensely dangerous, they are expert hand to hand combatants and excel at short, light weapons like shortswords and javelins. Another famed regiment of Khotesh is called The Hailstones, they are a Camel cavalry unit who use shock cavalry tactics, their camels have two riders, a spearman on the front and an archer on the back, the camels are bred to be massive to carry out such a feat, the spearman on the front charges into infantry lines with the spear and then turns away from the enemy to line up another charge while the archer on the back fires into their ranks, it is a very effective tactic that has won many battles.

This is Part 2 of this write-up. Please read part 1 first. This is the link:
https://www.reddit.com/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/143r7l9/felix_vail_the_pedophile_serial_killer_caught/

PART 2:

ANNETTE CRAVER:

Born on the 7th of December 1965, Annette Craver was intelligent and creative. At 15 she was a singer-songwriter and in her senior year at a private school that specialized in medicine. Her dream was to become a midwife.
http://charleyproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/vail_annette6.jpg(A photo of Annette Craver.)
In the summer of 1981, she and her mother, Mary Rose greeted people at a friend’s yard sale in the Montrose neighborhood in Houston, Texas. They had just returned from a vacation in Mexico, and Annette felt heartsick, still infatuated with a boy named Adolfo, who was unable to join her in America.
VAIL MEETS ANNETTE
While people browsed the sale, Vail pulled up on a motorcycle and spoke with Annette. He was 41 and had done some carpentry work in the area. “When I saw her, I thought, ‘That’s going to be my new girlfriend,’” he said about the 15-year-old.
In April 1982, Rose and her daughter invested in a Tulsa home that had a rental cottage behind it. Rose began renovating both. After graduating from high school, Annette joined her mother in Tulsa. Vail appeared a few days later, and convinced Annette to leave with him on his motorcycle. They lived off the $500-a-month Social Security check that she received from her father’s death 3 years prior. It would be over a year before Mary Rose would see her daughter again.
That fall, Annette (who was still 15) would fall pregnant, and Vail would force her to have a painful abortion.
Jerry Woodall, reportedly friends with Vail later recalled an embarrassing scene, where the 42-year-old Vail was in a sleeping bag, having public sex with a 16-year-old Annette, only 20 feet away from him and his then-wife Meredith McMackin. Annette grinned and waved at them. Woodall and McMackin did their best to ignore them.
McMackin would later say that Vail had “this coldness and controlling aspect to his personality. Annette was so open and alive, but I think he just totally dominated her. He would try to convey that he was this higher form of being. At first, I thought maybe he was evolved, but then I realized it was this arrogant act.”
Later that summer, police in California would arrest Vail for violating probation a dozen years earlier. Annette telephoned Woodall, who gave her $200. After Vail walked free from prison, he and Annette decided to get married. However, as a 17-year-old she needed permission.
Annette told her mother that she loved Vail, that they were already “spiritually married” and that they would travel to Mexico and get married there if she refused. Not wanting to lose her daughter completely, Rose said OK.
On August 15th, 1983, in Bakersfield, California, the couple were wed.
AFTER THE MARRIAGE
Four months after the marriage, Annette turned 18, allowing her to collect more than $98,000 ($293,500 today) from life insurance policies on her late father. Accompanied by Vail, she withdrew all the money in cash from a San Antonio bank. She bought a Fiat convertible that Vail liked and paid for his dental work.
In April 1984, Rose returned home to find Annette waiting at her door. She told her she wanted to divorce Vail, and enroll in college. She talked about Vail’s temper, including an incident where he had broken his hand trying to punch his wife. He missed and hit a wall.
A few weeks later, Vail showed up. The couple fought constantly, and Vail left after a few days. Mary Rose said that Vail was “insanely jealous” and would become furious when Annette spoke of her desire to go out with younger men.
She and Annette worked on renovating the two homes after Vail left, enjoying their time together. The 2 even started a garden together.
Annette received a letter from Vail, who vowed their time apart would fuel their love. He wrote to her: “After we hung up, I went out to a park and ran and hung and talked with God and smoked some and shot some pool and rode with the top down out through the marsh playing ‘Iron Butterfly’ [“In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”] and bathing every inch of your body-spirit being with love.”
He referred to being away from Annette as “deprivation jail” and to her ego as “his jailor.”
“The idea of her cutting away ego’s “feeder roots and creating roots between your spirit and the cosmic ground of loving makes me hot for you. My mind is kissing you everywhere.”
After that, Vail would return to Annette’s life. Rose said, “Annette told me, ‘Felix is the wisest person in the world, and I can’t make decisions without him.’” His influence on Annette had only grown stronger. According to Rose, she even compared Vail to God, a comparison Vail agreed with.
After this, the couple angrily insisted that Rose move out and deed the house to Annette. Accompanied by suicidal thoughts brought on by Vail’s continued control over her daughter, Rose left for California to stay with family and friends, deeding the house to Annette for $7000 ($21,000 today) before she did.
Annette would add Vail to the deed, and a month later had deeded him both homes, leaving him as the sole owner.
ANNETTE’S DISAPPEARANCE
Mere weeks after deeding the houses to Vail, the couple told neighbors they were leaving on vacation. When Vail returned in October, he was alone.
Vail told a neighbor that Annette had a lot of money wither her when he’d left her, and that she was likely visiting friends in Denver.
Upon learning that Annette hadn’t come back with Vail, Mary Rose called him. “He told me that while they were camping, Annette had a sexual dream about being with other men in Mexico, and she wanted to go there,” she recalled to an investigative reporter years later. “He claimed that the dream made them both realize that she should have her freedom.” The next day, Vail told her he had put Annette on a bus with $50,000 ($150,000 today) but didn't elaborate.
On Oct 22, 1984, Rose filed a missing person’s report. She told the Tulsa Police Department that each person who spoke with Vail “gets a different story about the amount of money that Annette took with her and where she might be. We all believe that he knows where she is or has done something with her.”
On January 22, 1985, Detective Dennis Davis and another officer questioned Vail at his home (This is obscenely late to start questioning him). By this point, Vail had filed for divorce, citing an inability to find her after a “diligent search.” Davis said her mother, Mary Rose, mentioned her daughter had received more than $90,000 from her father’s estate. Vail confirmed this was true, saying the couple had spent much of that money traveling in foreign countries. He said they kept their money in cash because they didn’t trust banks and that he had found about $10,000 in cash when he returned home.
The next day, Vail called a lawyer, who promised to talk with the officers and tell them to “leave me alone,” as he wrote in his journal.
When Davis returned five days later, Vail had a detailed alibi: The couple left Tulsa between noon and 3 p.m. on Sept. 13, 1984, and stayed the night in a hotel in Claremont, Oklahoma. After two nights of camping on the river, Annette woke up and told Vail she had decided to leave him. He took her to the Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis and left before she bought the ticket. (There is no Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis, and there has never been a Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis.)
He told the officers that she had told him she was headed for Denver, where she planned to get a fake ID card and leave for Mexico. When asked if he would take a lie detector test, Vail said no.
After Davis left, he wrote a letter to Rose. He blamed her for the “bad things” about Annette, told her that after the couple had returned from Costa Rica Annette had been “seeing friends and relatives --- completing her relationships with them for the purpose of getting ready to drop everybody and start over.” He wrote that Annette “disappeared herself from you” because Rose kept imposing her “value system” on her, and said Annette viewed her mother, grandmother, and herself as “zero self-image whores for approval.”
He explained the 2 had no plans to communicate, he did not know where she was, and that “I also assure you that even if I did know, I would not tell you.”
When Rose returned to Tulsa in April 1985, she entered the cottage Annette used to live in, only to find almost all the young woman’s belongings were gone, including her clothes and her diary.
Inside a Barbie suitcase, Rose found a photograph of her daughter and several of her identification cards. She also located things that Annette had written, including a Feb. 17, 1984, note that contradicted Vail’s claim that the couple had spent most of her inheritance on their travel to Mexico and Central American countries.
Instead, the note detailed how they used the money to buy the Fiat, pay off all of Vail’s loans, and deposit $36,000 into Louisiana Savings. It said that as of that day, they had $41,600 ($125,000 today) in cash.
Rose shared the information with the police. Detective Davis showed up again, and Vail told Davis the couple divided the money into smaller cashier’s checks, contradicting his earlier statement that they kept the money in cash.
After a while, Davis left, and despite the (seemingly obvious) suspicious behavior of Vail, closed the missing person’s case.
AFTER ANNETTE’S DISAPPEARANCE
Rose kept calling Vail after this and was finally able to reach him on September 14th 1985.
When asked about Annette’s whereabouts he refused to tell her.
When asked about Annette’s missing clothes he said he gave them to charity.
When asked about the insurance money, Vail told her ‘That’s all she really cared about.’ Rose hung up.
Two years later, fed up with the lack of progress in Annette’s case, Rose would return to Tulsa. She spent thousands of dollars on private investigators to locate Vail. When that failed, she simply went and found him herself.
Tipped off that he was staying at someone’s house, she went there with a friend and found him sitting outside. When asked where Annette went, he replied “Mexico.” When asked where in Mexico, he said the 2 had made a pact to contact each other every 5 years, contradicting his statement that the 2 didn’t have plans to communicate. Rose didn’t believe a word of it.
The whole time Vail never looked up, never stood up and never looked her in the eye.
BETH FIELD
Some time after this, Vail began dating Beth Field. Soon the couple had began arguing, and Vail would call her a “whore.” During a December 1987 argument, he would strike her so hard he ruptured her ear drum. She told Vail there was no justification for violence, to which he responded, “If you quit behaving like a whore, I’ll quit hitting you.”
In August 1988 Beth received a call from Rose, sharing details about the disappearance of her daughter, Annette. From that point forward, Field said she began to examine Vail’s words more closely, realizing that he had likely murdered her.
Four months after the call, he entered her home unannounced. Already drunk, he accused her of “imagined promiscuity,” according to a court order. He slapped her, struck her, and threw her across the bedroom. She asked if Vail was going to kill her, to which Vail replied, “It depends on what you tell me.”
A judge gave her a protective order, requiring Vail to keep his distance. Two weeks later, the sheriff reported that Vail was nowhere to be found.
While Field was visiting a meditation center in Texas in 1990, Vail arrived. After composing herself, she told him “There is a part of you that goes off, and it’s sick and it’s dangerous.”
He looked at her and asked, “Really?” She said “yes, really.” This time, the message seemed to go through. Vail left the next day, and with a single exception about five years later, she never saw him again.
MARY ROSE LEARNS ABOUT THE OTHER 2 CASES
In the summer of 1991 (6 years after Annette's disappearance), Rose drove over 2000 miles to Canyon Lake, Texas to speak to Sue Jordan, Felix Vail’s sister. Jordan said that Vail had told her that Annette wanted to leave, that he took her to a bus station and that she left with some Mexican men, heading for Mexico. Jordan also mentioned that Vail’s first wife had drowned, which was news to Rose.
Before she left, Jordan also told her, “Oh, you know, there was another woman that disappeared. I remember her mother calling my mother for years, checking to see if they’d heard from her. I think her name was Sharon.”
After the conversation, Rose sat down at a typewriter, writing every word she could remember. She also called the public library in Lake Charles.
The librarian remembered the 1962 drowning of Vail’s first wife, Mary Horton. She told Rose that he had taken out life insurance policies on his wife prior to her drowning and that the insurance companies were suspicious and didn’t pay the full value. The librarian made copies of newspaper articles and mailed them to her.
After reading them, Rose reached out to Mary’s family in Louisiana, speaking to Will Horton. He shared her suspicions about Vail and a copy of the 1971 National Enquirer article made after Vail's son Bill reported him to the police. When she read it, she learned that Sharon’s last name was Hensley.
In 1994, she read in the newspaper about Dolores Strehlow’s disappearance from Medford, Oregon, seven years earlier. Police had just arrested her husband, thanks to the work of Detective Terry Newell. She contacted Newell, who helped her find the family of Sharon Hensley. When Rose dialed the Hensley family, Sharon’s mother, Peggy, answered. Rose asked if Peggy knew a Felix Vail. Peggy replied with "you bet I do"
THE INVESTIGATION HEATS UP… AND COOLS DOWN
The detective who helped Rose before, Terry Newell, contacted Jim Bell, a national expert in serial killings working for the FBI. When Rose talked with Bell, she felt like she'd finally gotten somewhere. He was interested in working on the Vail case if he could swing the time. He still remained busy with active serial killer cases, helping train task forces across the U.S. Vail’s son, Bill, told Rose that he was willing to testify, as long as authorities provided protection to his family. Both the Tulsa police and the district attorney’s office in Lake Charles revived their investigations into Vail, now considered a suspected serial killer.
Bell suggested the victims’ families gather with authorities at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, to share information on Vail. He was unable to work on the case and left the FBI in 1995. The meeting in Quantico never materialized, and the cases involving Vail grew cold once again.
A QUICK RUN DOWN OF EVENTS
In the fall of 1997, family and friends held a mural for Annette.
Diagnosed with esophageal cancer, Vail’s son Bill heard from doctors that he didn’t have long to live. He’s quoted saying “now I’ll get to be with my mom.” Months before passing away in 2009, Bill talked about his father in a recorded interview with his pastor at Grace Church in Overland Park, Kansas.
On Jan. 3, 2009, Bill died, and Vail wrote in his journal, “I feel a large empty hole in my being where his life presence has been for 47 years,” before writing about getting a good haircut. He drove to Kansas but didn’t attend his own son’s funeral. If he had, he would have heard the recording, with his son detailing how he had overheard his father talk about murdering Bill's mother, Mary.
When Vail learned of the recording, he wrote to Pastor Tim Howey, asking for a copy. He blamed his son’s statements on “false memories,” saying, “I have not known about it until now and am stunned.”
In 2012, while attempting to confront Vail with reporter Jerry Mitchell whom she had contacted to write about Vial, Rose was stopped by Kaye Faulkner, Vial’s sister. She told Rose and Mitchell of the recording and urged Mitchell to get a copy of it. She also said that she believed Vial had murdered Mary Horton, Sharon Hensley, and Annette Craver.
She gave the reporter Vial’s number, as well as the numbers of her other brother, Ronnie, and her sister, Beth. Vial didn’t answer those calls, so Mitchell left a message. Ronnie promised to speak to his brother on his behalf.
MITCHELL INVESTIGATES
Mitchell arrived in Lake Charles and stopped by the Southwestern Louisiana Genealogical and Historical Library, which shared copies from old city directories. He began tracking down people who had lived in the Maree Apartments with Felix and Mary.
Many described Mary’s fair of drowning. A close friend of Vails, Judson McCann II described Vial as a ladies’ man, and insinuated he was a cheater. “Many nights, his car wouldn’t be home, and Mary would be there with the lights on. When Felix was gone, it wasn’t because he was trotline fishing.”
Another close friend, Bob Hodges described Vial’s story of Mary ‘falling’ in the river as “horse manure.”
A college roommate of Mary, Sandra Sudduth Pratt, said “Nobody believed it was an accident.”
Mitchell shared Mary’s autopsy report with pathologist Dr. Michael Baden of New York City, who concluded that foul play had taken place in her death.
The report showed large bruises with bleeding into tissues on the left side of the neck, which he said suggested she suffered forceful neck trauma before entering the water. There were hemorrhagic bruises to the right calf and left leg above the knee, which he said were consistent with a struggle before her submersion. But most convincingly of all was the scarf authorities found around her neck that extended 4 inches into her mouth, which suggested traumatic asphyxia before entering the water.
“Somebody had to push that scarf into her mouth. She had to have that scarf wedged in her mouth before she was put in the water.”
A cousin put Mary’s brother Will Horton in touch with former detective “Rabbit” Manuel, who had headed up the Calcasieu Parish Sheriff Office’s investigation back in 1962. He had never forgotten Mary’s death. “Felix’s story just didn’t add up. The fishing tackle was dry. The trotline was dry. The boat was dry. Even Felix’s cigarettes were dry, despite him telling the deputies he dove straight in the water to save Mary.”
He and Manuel met with “Lucky” DeLouche, who directed an elite task force unit that investigated homicides. Three young detectives took notes as they talked. Manuel shared details from the case, saying deputies (officers) wanted to prosecute, but the district attorney wouldn’t let them. Horton shared the autopsy report, Vail’s letters and his belief that Vail was a serial killer. Horton said DeLouche replied, “This absolutely fits the profile of a serial killer,” to which the other detectives agreed.
Shortly afterwards, DeLouche left the task force, and for seemingly the hundredth time, grew cold again.
After Mitchell posted a story about Vail titled “Gone” (It’s nearly 9,000 words long, and the precursor to the 35,500 word story I have drawn heavily from) a man named Wesley Turnage contacted him. He told him of a conversation he had had with Vail in 1963 during a car ride.
According to Turnage, Vail called Mary a bitch and said she thought another child would help solve their marriage problems. He quoted Vail as saying, “She wanted to have another kid. I didn’t want the one I got. I fixed that sorry bitch. She will never have another one.”
Mitchell would make another discovery. District Attorney Salter Jr. had ordered that the judge dismiss 882 criminal cases — more than three cases for each working day.
Will Horton told Mitchell the original detectives in the case told him that Salter wouldn’t allow them to present the evidence they had collected against Vail. That matched the stories Mitchell had heard from grand jurors’ families.
Horton then contacted District Attorney John DeRosier, who said he would be willing to reopen the case if there was enough evidence.
Then came an interesting wrinkle in the story. Finding Vail.
He’d disappeared, returning on Labor Day weekend 2012 to sell his property, before disappearing again. Luckily, another reader of "Gone" came to the rescue. He phoned Mitchell, telling him where Vial was. Canyon Lake, Texas.
Mitchell then contacted Enzo Yaksic, founder of the Serial Homicide Expertise and Information Sharing Collaborative. Yaksic then contacted Armin Showalter, acting chief for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, which specialized in serial homicide investigations.
Yaksic shared a copy of GONE with Showalter, who in turn called Calcasieu Parish Deputy Randy Curtis, now taking on the Vail case. Curtis phoned Mitchell to find out where Vail was. A few days later, he called back to say the FBI had discovered Vail purchased property at 737 Shadyview Drive in Canyon Lake.
On Jan. 18, 2013, Curtis decided to confront Vail. He found him at that address, living in a storage shed. Curtis said he read Vail his rights before asking him about the death and disappearances of the women. Vail refused to say anything, accusing families and The Clarion-Ledger (Where "Gone" was published) of lying about him. The whole time, Vail couldn’t stop smirking.
​
Will Horton gave Mitchell the number of his cousin, who was a caretaker for 90-year-old Isaac Abshire Jr. When Mitchell sat down with the man, he shared a haunting story.
Abshire had worked with Vail and offered him a room to rent out. Once Vail and Mary were married, Vail had moved out. Abshire viewed himself as “a big brother” to Mary, calling her “a sweet little girl.”
After the marriage, Vail had become angry at work, talking about how ugly his wife was when she was pregnant, and how he didn’t like his baby. On the Friday before she was killed, the couple visited Abshire, bringing Bill, who was still an infant. Mary privately asked Abshire if he thought Vail could take her baby away.
Two days later, Mary was dead.
Abshire and two other workers went out the next day to drag the river. The next morning, Oct. 30, 1962, he returned with one of them, Jimmy May, to continue dragging.
Abshire said while they were talking, “something popped up. A guy with binoculars asked, ‘Does she have blonde hair?’ I said, ‘Yes, that’s her.’”
They recovered the body, and Abshire could never forget what he saw. Her body was rigid, and a scarf was wrapped around her neck before going into her mouth. Blood boiled on the boat, everyone voicing the same opinion. Vail had killed Mary.
Abshire had kept photos from that day for over 50 years. He said he had given them to Deputy Curtis as well as a copy of the 1962 sheriff’s report, which listed 15 points suggesting Vail’s guilt.
Despite being behind on major bills, Vail had managed to pay an entire year’s premiums in advance for a $50,000 ($150,000 today) life insurance policy on his wife. He had a second life insurance policy on her for $8,000 ($24,000 today), which promised to pay double if she died by accident.
It was almost as if he knew she was about to die.
Deputies had reported witnesses claims that Vail had told them he didn’t love his wife, that she looked stupid and vulgar, and that he had had sexual relations with multiple women, and at least one man.
Vail told deputies that his wife was wearing an off-white leather jacket when she went into the water. But she wasn’t wearing the jacket when her body was recovered. Inside his boat, deputies found two life preservers. Mary had not been wearing one, despite her fear of drowning. As for the trotline the 2 were supposedly running, deputies found it still inside Vail’s tackle box.
Most witnesses the Deputies had spoken too felt that Vail was capable of killing his wife.
When asked if he believed Vail killed his wife, Abshire said “Oh, my God, yes.”
THE CHASE & THE FINAL CLUES:
Ever since Vail had sold his Mississippi property, Mary Rose had wondered if he would eventually sell the Tulsa property, the one she and Annette had lived in. He did. Vail sold it for $149,000. Rose asked the question on the mind of everyone investigating. “What is he going to do with all that money? --- He could be running.”
On April 30th Mitchell got a call saying that Vail had left Texas. He was pulled over by police in Columbus, Mississippi after hopping the fence of his now dead brother Ronnie’s property. Curtis told Mitchell that the Columbus police were sending him a photo of Vail and the white pick-up truck he was pulled over in. He once again warned Mitchell that Vail could be running.
Vail’s sister called again, saying she heard her brother was heading to Montpelier. She wondered if he was driving to the home of possible witness Wesley Turnage.
Mitchell called Turnage to let him know that Vail might be headed his way. Turnage replied “If he sets foot on my property, there won’t be no trial.” He called Mitchell back later, saying no one in Montpelier had seen Vail.
Private Investigator Gina Frenzel, who had questioned Vail herself, including pretending to be his girlfriend, called Mitchell with good news. Vail had contacted her and told her he was back in Canyon Lake. Mitchell informed Curtis.
On May 17th 2012, authorities arrested Felix Vail for the murder of his wife Mary Horton.
In telephone calls from the jail in Lake Charles, he shared his explanation of what happened the night of Oct. 28, 1962, when Mary died.
He referred to his first wife as a “coon-ass lady,” saying she was “half kneeling” on his feet when she “saw one of the float buckets that were on the line.” He said the boat was “going real slow along the edge of the bank when the boat hit a stump ... and it dumped her right out.” Vail said he shut off the motor and dove in “where she had plopped in the water. I mean, nothing. The river had sucked her right in.” He said he “dove around until I was exhausted, and came in immediately to the police station in town and reported the accident and that was it.”
This story differed greatly from his story in 1962 when he said his wife was sitting on top of a boat seat when she fell out, not that she was kneeling on his feet. Back then, he said nothing about hitting a stump — just swerving to miss it.
It also differed from the story he had told his son, where a wave from another boat had dumped Mary out.
Vail told Frenzel that the case “has been an avalanche coming down the mountain all that time, waiting to hit my head, and it finally has.”
He blamed the families and Mitchell, “an evil, shrimpy reporter,” for what had happened, calling the charges “fabricated” and insisting that “a large amount of money, hate and political ambitions are behind them.”
At Vail’s request, Frenzel returned his truck to his home and went inside to take care of a few tasks. While there, she spent 16 hours photographing all his journals, more than 2,400 pages. She also photographed letters, documents, photographs and business cards, some dating back to the 1960s. She found a collection of women’s jewelry, old buttons, pins, and even a glass dildo.
Disturbingly, if at this point unsurprisingly, she found a photograph of a naked 3-year-old girl. Frenzel later spoke with the girl, now a woman. The journals revealed that Vail had stalked her for years.
Frenzel discovered the birth certificate of Annette Craver, who had used it for previous trips to Mexico.
Mitchell and Frenzel poured through the journals she had photographed. They noticed gaps in them that lead them to believe Vail had ripped pages out, including times when he should have been with Sharon and Annette.
His journals were dominated by sex, dreams of sex and reflected an obsession with children. In a March 27, 1986, entry, Vail wrote about the visit of a woman and her daughters in his home. “The little girls were delicious --- We massaged some, hugged & kissed some & it was 12 (midnight) & time for them to go.”
On Aug. 29, 1992, Vail walked into the Wal-Mart in West Point, and as he wrote in his journal “a 1-year-old white girl looked in my eyes loving me like there was no age difference between us.”
When Mitchell interviewed Kert Germany, a co-worker of Vail in 1977 he said that Vail attracted women wherever he went, and that Vail had told him the best sex of his life had been with 2- or 3-year-old girl.
It was that this time that Alexandra Christianson, Vail’s ex-wife called Mitchell and told him her story. She also put him in contact with Bruce Biedebach, the man she had been on a date with when she left with Vail. Biedebach would tell Mitchell that during a party in 1965 that turned into a “boast-fest” Vail had boasted about something he had done, that no one else had done.
Killed his wife.
He told the men at the party that he had held his wife’s head underwater until she drowned.
Biedebach then put Mitchell in contact with Rob Fremont, who had bicycled around California with Vail when he was 13. He said that while riding with Vail, he had told him that he hit his wife on the head and drowned her. Fremont never rode with him again after that.
With as much evidence as they could possibly gather, the case went to trial.
THE TRIAL:
Vail’s trial began on August 8th, 2016.
District Attorney John DeRosier laid out the evidence clearly.
He spoke of the evidence against Vail about Mary’s murder on October 28th, 1962.
He spoke about Vail swearing to Sharon Hensley’s mother that she wanted to start a new life in 1974.
He spoke about his letters to Mary Rose, telling her he wouldn’t tell her where her daughter Annette was “even if he knew.” Vail smirked at that one.
Finally, he spoke to the jurors.
“Mary Horton Vail is gone, Sharon Hensley is gone,” DeRosier said, “and Annette Craver Vail is gone.”
“You’re going to write the last chapter, and it’s simply going to read, ‘And justice was finally done. William Felix Vail, guilty as charged.’”
Prosecutors called all three families to testify.
Will Horton told jurors of his sister, “Mary was the kind of person you would want as a friend.” He broke while talking about visiting his nephew after he death in 1962. “I just wanted Bill to know how much his mother loved him.”
Brian Hensley told jurors that he last saw his sister, Sharon, with Vail before the pair left Bismarck, North Dakota, in 1972. Other than a telephone call and letter in the months that followed, he said no one had seen or heard from her since.
When Mary Rose took the stand, Vail bowed his head.
This was the woman who had been working for 32 long years to bring him into this court.
This was the mother who had waited 32 years for this moment.
She called Annette “a huge light in my life. We were always loving toward each other.” She testified that Vail ran off with her daughter on his motorcycle and married her. She testified that Annette, who inherited nearly $100,000 and received two homes, disappeared weeks after deeding those homes to Vail.
Wesley Turnage, Rob Fremont, and Bruce Biedebach swore under oath that Vail said he killed his first wife. Biedebach said he asked Vail if Mary was a bitch, to which Vail had said yes. Vail laughed in court as he told the story.
The current coroner, forensic pathologist Dr. Terry Welke, testified that in most drownings, the body comes up in a “dead person’s float,” with the back of the head surfacing first and the limbs hanging down in the water.
After sharing a series of pictures to show it, he showed the court two black-and-white photographs of Mary Horton when her body was recovered on Oct. 30, 1962, less than two days after she reportedly drowned. Her body was stiff, with her hands over chest as if she was in a coffin.
They also saw the videotaped testimony of Isaac Abshire Jr, who had died in 2014. He said her body was stiff when it surfaced either sideways or face up when she bobbed up in the Calcasieu River.
That testimony helped contribute to Welke’s homicide conclusion. So did the unbroken grease-like stain across her Chi Omega sweatshirt, which he believed could have come from a tarp covering her. Welke concluded Mary was dead and stiff before her body went into the water, explaining why rigor had set in.
Testimony was heard of Vail not paying for his own wife’s funeral, despite having made thousands from her life insurance.
THE VERDICT
The jury didn’t even take a half hour to reach their verdict.
William Felix Vail Sr was unanimously found guilty of murdering Mary Horton. He was sentenced to life in prison.
After the verdict, the prosecutor also revealed that the FBI had found out that Vail had molested a child over 30 years ago. They were unable to put him on trial for it, as the statue of limitations had passed.
Finally, nearly 54 years after she was murdered, Mary Horton had found justice.
Finally, 42 years after her disappearance, Sharon Hensley had found justice.
And Annette Craver, with the help of her mother Mary Rose’s tireless efforts, had finally found justice after 32 years.
https://content.api.news/v3/images/bin/f75084c7dce4fb08e12e45ccba5e40a1
This a photo of Mary, Sharon and Annette. I felt it was fitting to end off with. May they all rest in peace.
MY SOURCES:
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/8284?nav
https://charleyproject.org/case/annette-michelle-craver-vail
https://www.clarionledger.com/story/news/local/felixvailgone/2016/12/29/felix-vail-gone-one-wife-dead-two-other-missing-jerry-mitchell/95895894/
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/5796622/mary-elizabeth-vail
https://charleyproject.org/case/sharon-hensley
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/20525?nav

(21f) Long story short i don’t have IBD but instead i just have ibs.
When I was 12 i started to have a lot of gi symptoms. Painful gas, diarrhea, mucus in stool, frequent urgent bm, sharp pains in upper left side of tummy, occasional blood in stool, blood when i wipe, loose stool, occasional constipation, etc.
I had a colonoscopy and upper endoscopy. At the time they diagnosed GERD, lactose intolerance, and gastritis. They treated the gastritis put me on some type of medication i don’t remember what it was.
At age 14 symptoms worsened. I went to the hospital. They did a ct scan, found colitis and suspected possible crohns or UC. I got another colonoscopy. They said i had UC. They removed polyps. They did not medicate me. (At least I do not recall being put on anything other than more medication for gastritis, but i could be wrong because there was a lot going on in my life at the time and my memory is pretty shit.) I moved right after this across the country. I didn’t have insurance for awhile so we never got to follow up with another GI.
Now at age 20 I finally got myself a primary care doc and she gave me a referral for GI. I haven’t had a bad flare in while. I’ve cut out majority of my trigger foods. I cut caffeine out completely and dairy. I try to eat a bland diet most of the time. I got promoted at work and having less stress/anxiety. I still have occasional symptoms. Worse being frequent/ urgent bm, fatigue and painful bloating. With those i still don’t feel like I’m in an active flare up.
New GI wanted to do a colonoscopy. I had my follow up today. The results were completely normal. No evidence of UC or Crohns. Biopsies were also clear. He says i don’t have UC and there is no evidence i ever did and that the previous diagnosis was wrong/misunderstood and just caused extra worry. I should feel relieved. “It’s just Ibs” he says. He prescribed something to take 3 times daily. I haven’t picked it up yet and i will have another follow up in about 2 months to see if it has helped.
I just feel a bit defeated. I know i should be relieved because now there is no increased risk of colon cancer. But when you think you have been living with a serious incurable disease for over 5 years it feels like a slap in the face to be told its just ibs. And i know ibs can be awful and it is but still.
So i guess my question is do any of you relate to this? Have you been told one thing by a previous doctor and then your current not take it seriously or just say they were wrong? Is that possible? Have you ever had colonoscopy come back normal after previously been diagnosed? Is my current doctor correct? What does remission look like with IBD in biopsies/ scopes? Can colonoscopy look normal after years without a major flare up?

Here is chapter 16 of Tight Money.
Special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the universe and allowing fan writers to join the fun.
Additional thanks to u/BiasMushroom, u/YakiTapioca, u/cruisingNW, u/SavingsSyllabub7788, u/YaaliAnnar, u/White_Dragon_Coranth, u/Illwood and u/Redundant-Honse for letting me use elements from their fanfics in mine.
Thanks to u/Zyrian150, u/Saint-Andros, and u/Eager_Question for proofreading this chapter.
Today, I have 3 character updates for you. We get to see good things happen to Leena and Dani and we get another update on what Niit is up to as well as revisiting some old characters and introducing a new one. This chapter was my first in collaboration with u/Eager_Question. We are doing a crossover for the next few chapters of Tight Money. A huge thanks to them for entirely changing the trajectory of my plans for Niit and Leena. I'm excited for where this is going.
I love your comments so please tell me what you think so I can get better or if you have suggestions for future snippets of life on Venlil Prime you would like to see me cover, leave it in the comments.
First Previous
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Memory transcription subject: Leena, Human Refugee Host
Date [standardized human time]: November 7, 2136
The smell of delectable food woke me up before my alarm – a sweet scent with a hint of roasted vegetables. My stomach demanded a meal, and glancing at the clock, I could see that I had some time before the twins would wake. Eagerly walking to the kitchen, I saw Dani had placed out all manner of items on the counter. She stood in front of her ‘hot plate,’ stirring a steaming pot that emanated the delightful aroma.
“Good morning, sleepy head!”
“Good waking, Dani. What are you up to with all those fruits and jars?”
“Well, you remember how I told you I was going to make some chalk for the neighborhood kids? That’s what I am doing right now – I'm making colored chalk! It's a fun DIY project. You see…”
“That did not translate correctly. The translator said, ‘letters of the English alphabet ask for clarification.’”
“Oh, it is an acronym that stands for the English words, ‘do it yourself.’ A lot of humans are pretty handy and have the skills to make the things that most people buy from a store. Sometimes they make things to save money, some do it for the challenge to see if they can, some do it because they want to customize something, and a lot of people do it because they enjoy doing it.”
“Like you said at our meal, this last paw.”
“Yeah! First, I slice up these fruits and vegetables into thin slices and boil them in water for [10 minutes]. The boiling process helps extract the natural pigments from the foods. Once I've boiled the fruits, I strain the colored water and keep it aside.”
Dani reached for a strainer and gently poured the steaming water into another pot and put that on the ‘hot plate.’ She set the slices of fire fruit on a plate and took a tentative bite out of a slice. I followed suit and to my delight, the fruit had a new mellower flavor with a hint of sweetness. Looking over the counter while I snacked on the boiled slices of Firefruit I got a better look at the jars of colored water and a few with colored powders.
“Okay, I'm following so far,” I pointed to one of the powder jars. “What are the powders for?”
“I’m doing an experiment. I want to see if I can use the pigment water as is or if I have to bake it to remove even more of the moisture in order to get a good color. I’ve never used these vegetables before so I need to do some trial and error to get this right.”
Dani had received a small strayu forge a few days ago in the mail and was putting it to good use making all manner of things except strayu. Honestly, I had no idea you could do anything else with them. Humans think of the strangest things. The forge dinged alerting her that it was done with whatever it was doing. She pulled out a tray of shriveled up Firefruit slices and transferred them to an empty plate. Dani laid several more fresh Firefruit slices on the trays and began the process anew.
“Dehydrated slices make wonderful snacks. Now, I take plaster,” Dani scooped some white powder into a cheap plastic bowl and poured in two scoops of the colored water, “and mix it with the colored water we obtained earlier. The plaster acts as a base and helps give the chalk a solid form.”
“Dani, that's so clever! So, the colored water gives the plaster its colors?”
“Exactly! The colored water mixes with the plaster, and we end up with a mixture that has the desired colors. Oh, and while I'm doing this, I'm also pouring the mixture into these silicone molds.”
I watched as Dani mixed the blue water and white powder until it turned into a light blue soup. Dani poured the liquid into the cavities of the flexible trays and scrunched up her face the way she did when she was unhappy or thinking.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, it is supposed to be a much deeper blue than this. I think I’ll have to find something else to make a better dye or try the powder method. Oh well, live and learn.”
Dani began to clean up just as my alarm went off, informing me that I needed to get the children ready and fed. When I came out of my room after feeding the twins and grooming their fur, Dani had finished cleaning the counter and sitting on the couch browsing on her tablet. She looked up as I sat down.
“You get your cast off today right?”
Peering at the clock on her tablet, “Yes, my appointment is in quarter a claw at the out-patient recovery facility. It is only a short ride away. Would you?” I passed the twins to Dani before I stood. “I need to get ready.”
“Come here little babies, let's play hide and peek-a-boo.”
A quick shower later and I returned to find Dani loading the twins into the stroller; still talking to them in her higher pitch and smiling. Nothing out of the ordinary about that but what was out of the ordinary was that Vissa and Tas were also showing their teeth. Not quite a smile but not for lack of trying. I wasn’t sure what to say about that. I didn’t want Dani to stop smiling at Vissa and Tas but that behavior worried me.
“Okay, we’re ready.” Dani reached in and tickled my children. When they were done laughing they ceased to show their teeth much to my relief.
“Dani, when I get the cast off and return this scooter, is there anything you would like to do? I would rather not go back home and sit down once I can walk again.”
Dani’s eyes sparkled at my suggestion. “I would love to see some of your museums and I read about these places where people can make communal art. Could you show me one of those?”
“I would love to.” I’m glad I can do something nice for you, after all you have done for me.
​
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Memory transcription subject: Niit, Capitol Spaceport Logistics Coordinator
Date [standardized human time]: November 9, 2136
I was fortunate. Only three claws after I was fired from the spaceport a new job presented itself. It was a temporary job but it would give me time to find something permanent and help my job history. Getting fired looked worse than the contract ending. They had advertised that they needed someone to come in and finish a new facility. I wondered what happened to the last coordinator. I sent in my application, trying to highlight that I had some experience in procuring building materials for the maintenance of the spaceport hangars.
I was given an interview time for the following paw. That didn’t give me much time to prepare and the place was a bit out of the way. I had to take the train out to the outer ring of the Capital and then walk [20 minutes] more but at least it was easy to find; I could hear the construction a [kilometer] away. A yotul was outside watching the construction crews, obviously impressed with the advanced construction equipment.
“Excuse me,” I tried to be respectful and not shout, “could you direct me to the project manager's office?”
The yotul looked at me and then pointed to a series of temporary buildings in the distance.
“The furthest of the temporary dwellings on the right," he said, "it has a label on the door.”
“Thank you.” I waved my tail goodbye.
I walked over to the white construction shelter the yotul indicated and raised my paw to knock when the door slid open and a large, dark gray venlil appeared in the doorway. I froze in surprise as he looked me up and down with his left eye.
“Are you Niit?”
“Y-y…” I flicked my ear in affirmation.
“Come in.”
The gray venlil stepped inside and motioned to a swivel chair opposite a desk near the door. I took the seat opposite him at the desk and he opened a file with my application on his datapad. The office was a mess of binders, tools, and open cases of energy snacks and drinks; I assumed for the crew. A large map of the block hung on the wall.
"You can call me Foreman Apec or just Foreman is fine too. I'm so glad you could come on such short notice, this project is rather urgent and our last coordinator was poached by one of those ghastly flesh factories they're building now."
The very mention of those atrocious places nearly caused me to lose my lunch. “I-I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, I can guarantee you that I will not be leaving to work in such a place.”
"That's wonderful to hear. Tell me more about your experience, how comfortable are you handling tight schedules?"
“Oh, very, when I worked at the Capital Spaceport I had to manage several tight repair schedules regularly.” I hope he didn’t call Director Cass. I doubt he would give me a positive reference.
"Wonderful to hear. Like I said, we're rather in a rush to get this all done as soon as we can. The good news is that human laborers can work for two, sometimes three claws a shift, so we should be able to manage."
He stated that so nonchalantly, waving his tail around like it wasn’t the most ludicrous thing.
“T-three claws? They can work that long? No,” he’s joking, “You are pulling my ear. There’s no way anyone can work that long.”
Foreman Apec leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"I could scarcely believe it myself! Between you and me, I believe they're what you'd call persistence predators, but they're all hush hush about such things, you know. Anyhow,” he sat back and resumed the interview questions. “You mentioned repairs–I assume for starships-- do you have any experience with buildings?"
Persistence predators? I’ll have to look that up later, focus!
“Some, yes. I managed the construction of hangars 17 and 18 two [years] ago and the repairs to some of the buildings when debris fell after the successful defense against the arxur earlier this [year].”
"Fantastic! And, of course, while the position does not require you to interact with many humans, it'll likely come up due to the nature of the project. Are you comfortable with that?"
“I’ll manage.” It’s only temporary and I have my secret weapon now. Let's see them crawl inside me now. Ha!
"You should be fine. Older fellows like myself seem to struggle much more than youngsters like you, and I have my first meal with a human every paw now! I'm afraid the compensation on the ad is as high as we can go due to the budget, is that also alright?"
He flicked his tail apologetically.
“Yes, I’m grateful for the opportunity to gain experience in construction and try something other than starship repair.”
"Fantastic. When can you start?"
“I can start immediately, thank you!”
"Well, then you're hired! I'll send you an information package as soon as I can, and you can start at the next claw. As I said, we are quite strapped for time."
I rose, my tail wagged with joy, “I won’t let you down. I’m eager to see what this place will look like when it’s finished.”
"As am I. The whole thing has been mired in secrecy. You'll have to sign an agreement when you accept the contract, it'll be in your information package."
A secrecy agreement? What are the humans building here? “Oh… mysterious.” I tried to wave my tail playfully.
"Yes indeed! We'll be able to talk all about it once you sign on officially, but suffice it to say that the building plans are different from any I've ever seen."
The foreman walked around the desk and opened the door to escort me out. As I left, I turned one last time to reply.
“Well, I am eager to talk with you about it next claw.”
"Wonderful. Go, read through the package. Rest up. You'll need it."
​
​
Memory transcription subject: Krin, Capitol Extermination Officer
Date [standardized human time]: November 9, 2136
Driving to another abandoned home, looking for another poor warto spawn for trespassing. Probably gonna have drugs too; they all do. Rigel was driving the truck and seemed rather quiet, well, more quiet than usual.
“This is wrong, Krin. Evicting someone from an abandoned house just feels wrong.”
Rigel you are naive and too emotional. These people have already left the herd and need to shape up.
“I get where you're comin' from, Rigel, but it's our job. Can't let folks squat in places that ain't theirs.”
We were headed to the poorer part of the city. Clean streets but smaller houses; some no bigger than an apartment. The homes had an artificial feel to them, lacking any sort of wood or stone, just fillcrete walls and plastic doors. The road was getting bumpier with potholes in the rubber asphalt and frayed edges. The paint was nearly gone in some places and sunbleached in others.
“But it's rough out there, Krin. The economy's tanking, folks are losing their jobs, the banks aren’t making allowances…. Is throwing someone out really the answer?
For herd’s sake, “Look, Rigel, I feel for 'em, I do. But ya gotta think bigger. This squattin' stuff leads to more crime, drugs, theft, vandalism, urban decay. Ain't good for nobody. It’s a breeding ground for predator disease.”
“I get that, but it's hard not to sympathize. People are struggling. Maybe we could help them instead of evicting them?”
You want to help them so much, go be a social worker and see how much help you can give these people. Social services were drowning. Everyone knew that but with less revenue from fees and taxes, agencies had to make cuts. Everyone just had to make do.
“Help 'em how? We ain't social workers, Rigel. We got our hands full already and the owners are breathing down our necks when they should've taken care of this mess in the first place!”
“I know, Krin, but it just doesn't sit right with me. Can't help but think there's a better way to handle this.”
“We can't solve all the world's problems, Rigel. Our job is to keep the peace, not save everyone. It's tough, but that's reality.” The simple reality that ain’t so simple anymore, stupid humans.
“I just wish we could do more, you know? Feel like we're caught between a cliff and a shadestalker.”
“Trust me, Rigel, I feel it too. But we can't change the system overnight. Gotta focus on what we can control and do our jobs. Besides, no point thinkin’ about it anymore, we’re here.”
I stopped the car and got out. Officer Rigel checked the front door and it swung open. We entered the house, announcing ourselves as we went, but saw no one. The place was rather clean for a squat. If it wasn’t for the makeshift bed in one of the rooms and the inflatable birthday pool in the bathroom with a stack of towels, we wouldn’t have even known there was a squatter here.
“Looks like we came all this way for nothing.” The frustration in Officer Rigels voice mirrored my own.
The water in this pool was almost gone, the towels were dry and we didn’t find any paraphernalia. Whoever had been here, was long gone.
“Yeah, let's call it in and go back to the office.”
We climbed back into the truck and pulled out of the driveway. As I drove us back to the guild, we passed a disheveled man. Is that our squatter? I slowed the car and looked in the mirror, from behind I could see he was wearing a dirty safety vest and carrying a trash stick. No, he’s not a squatter. Glad I’m not that guy though. Sanitation work is not for me.
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First Previous

My name is Billie and I was a passenger of the Midnight Train. Last time I ended up in the nightmare of an unborn child. In this part I get to leave the train at least for a short while.
Things calmed down after Nyxia left the train – well, at least as calm as a place like this could reasonably get. I stayed close to John, with whom I got along better than I had expected, and we spent our time making plans that focused more on survival than on actually getting away. John showed me his notes, a list of rules for dealing with the train's entities, and I was confident that as long as we were together, we could survive encounters with them.
The problem was, our other goal – leaving the train despite not having a ticket – still seemed impossible. Even after days, we hadn't been able to come up with even the semblence of a plan.
"We could kill it", I suggested once. "Get to the driver's wagon and murder the damn train itself. Then we'll get out of here, right?"
"Or we end up stranded in this abyss forever", John replied, gesturing vaguely to the dark swirls of colour outside of the windows.
"A risk worth taking?"
"Absolutely not." And that was the end of this. We fell into a weird routine of spending our days in the common wagons, eating dinner in the dining wagon, and occasionally running from the threats the train threw at us. For almost an entire week, the Cinder Queen didn't show her face and everything else was easy enough to avoid. Life was almost peaceful – at least when we didn't run from faceless waiters.
And then the train reached one of its destinations, allowing us to explore the world outside.
"I still don't see what you hope to achieve with this", John complained as I dragged him through the hallway, towards the wide open doors. "I've seen people stay out too long and none of them came back alive. Running away isn't an option."
"We're not running away, we're looking for something that could get us out of here", I corrected him.
"And what, pray tell, could that be?"
"You know... I hope I'll just recognize it when I see it." With a bright smile, I tightened my grip around his wrist and started walking faster.
But before we could go outside, there was someone waiting for us next to the door. Probably the only entity I would ever be happy to see. "Hey!", I greeted the black-eyed Distributor. "I haven't even thanked you for the dagger. That thing saved my life in that nightmare world... though I kind of left it in there? Sorry if you wanted it back, but..."
The child didn't say a single word, just reached into his bag like it had done last time and pulled out a small object.
"Oh? Another present? That's really nice, buddy, thank you! What...?"
He didn't let me finish my question, just pushed the object into my hands and walked away.
"Okay then." I turned to John again and showed him my newly acquired object. "We've got a compass. Oh my god, do you think we have to go on a ship? I've seen enough water in the nightmare for the rest of my life. Did I mention that I drowned twice?"
"You're missing the obvious solution to this problem, Billie."
"Now that we have this little thing?" I waved the compass around. "Absolutely fucking not. He just gave us what we're gonna need to survive."
John sighed. "You're basing this assumption on one single event", he reminded me.
"Well, then we're gonna test this assumption right now and prove it. Like an experiment. That's how scientists do it, right?" Once again I grabbed his hand. "Come on, Kira", I told my dog and we finally crossed the threshold.
It was surreal. There was grass under my feet, an overcast sky above me, wind brushing through my hair. "I'm outside!", I exclaimed. "And there's fresh air and real light and... oh my god, I think I hear birds! Birds, John!" The euphoria was overwhelming, I couldn't stop myself from laughing and if I hadn't been holding John's hand I would have spun around like a small child.
"Don't get too excited", John replied without any enthusiasm. "We'll be here for a few hours at most."
"Buzzkill." I rolled my eyes dramatically, but still with a smile on my lips. "I'll take these few hours and I'll be fucking excited. I mean... look at that! No water! Isn't that amazing?"
"There's someone waiting for us", John pointed out instead.
Only then I took the time to really look at my surroundings. So far I had focused on what wasn't there, making sure that I wouldn't end up drowning or falling off a skyscraper again, but only now I saw it for what it was. And, well, it was a hill. We stood close to the top of a hill, the train's tracks impossibly floating behind us, and all that might have been around this hill was hidden in thick fog. Just like John had pointed out, there was a person waiting for us on the hill, a man standing right next to an empty door frame.
Now if I had one thing in the nightmare, it was that one should follow the most obvious paths in impossible places like this. Someone – something – wanted us atop this hill and if I was perfectly honest, I was kind of curious what kind of man was waiting for us up there.
"Let's go say hello then", I told John with a bright grin. The hint of a smile appeared on his lips and he didn't complain as I pulled him along again.
We reached the top of the hill in no time and the waiting man watched as we approached him. He looked perfectly normal, though he seemed to have stepped straight out of an old movie, with his hat and trenchcoat and the cigarette between his lips. "There you are", he greeted us. "I've been waiting for you."
John frowned and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "And just how did you know we would come here?", he asked, clearly suspicious.
The man shrugged. "I think your kind calls it... instinct?"
John didn't seem relieved in the slightest. "What exactly did your instinct tell you?"
"I'm working on a case", the man in the trenchcoat answered. "Some children disappeared and they're behind this door." He pointed at the empty doorframe.
For a moment I wondered if I was back in the dreamworld. On the other hand, nobody ever said that the train stopped at ordinary places. "Okay, lost kids. Sure. Maybe this thing will help", I said, showing off my compass. "We're on a bit of a time limit here, so... let's go, Mr. Detective!" Still holding John's hand, and with Kira right by my side, I walked through the doorframe.
I didn't actually see my surroundings change. In one moment, I saw the grass of the hill on the other side, and then just a second later I was standing in a hallway. A long hallway with an atrocious red carpet, mirrors in golden frames on the walls, and warm yellow light from the circular lamps on the ceiling.
I turned my head to look at John and the Detective, only to find that the door had disappeared behind them.
In retrospect, we really deserved this for walking through strange doors without thinking.
"Did you know this would happen?", John asked our new companion urgently.
"I didn't."
Now before one of us could point out that this was absolutely not good, a voice echoed through the hallway. "Guests! Oh hello! It's been so terribly long", it said, high and shrill like fingernails on a blackboard, sending an unpleasant shiver down my spine. "Can you help me look for my three sisters? They wanted to come to me and then they got lost. Please!"
"Are those your missing kids, Mr. Detective?", I asked instead of answering the voice.
He nodded. "I assume they are."
"Okay, nice. Hey, invisible voice person! We find your sisters and you make the door appear again! Deal?"
"Oh, sure, you'll get your door, Sybille", the voice agreed. "You'll get sooo many doors..." And with that, the voice faded.
"You know... if I had a dollar for every time I ended up in a weird place with a disembodied voice talking to me...", I joked.
"You're awfully calm, considering we're stuck here", John interrupted me harshly. "You do understand that we have no way out of here and that we are going to die?"
"What? I just made a deal, didn't I? We go and find the three kids, then we can leave. And we find them with the help if this!" Once again, I presented my compass.
"Excuse me, but I don't see how knowing where north is will help us here."
"Oh come on, do you really think the Distributor gave us something useless?" I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated with his lack of understanding. "The compass will lead us to the kids. Isn't that right, Mr. Detective?"
The Detective chuckled. "And how would I know, kid?"
"Instinct, maybe?" I shrugged and turned back around. "Whatever. Come on, let's go rescue some kids!"
"I sure hope you're right", John said. "Because otherwise you doomed us all."
I was well aware of this, I just didn't allow myself to think about it. Maybe I was an optimist, maybe just insane, but I firmly believed that we would make it out of here again. And in the best case scenario, we would return with something that would help us escape the Midnight Train for good. I was unlikely, sure, but how likely was it to walk through an empty doorframe and end up in a fully furnished hallway? How likely was it to enter a train full of inhuman entities? At this point I simply considered everything to be possible.
And so we walked down the hallway, following the needle of my compass. John was right next to me, Kira and the Detective behind us, and none of us talked any more. The atmosphere was tense, despite my best attempts to stay cheerful. There was a lot on the line, after all.
I was nervous when we reached the end of the hallway and there were two identical paths to choose from, one to the left and one to the right. My compass, however, started to spin and eventually the needle settled on pointing to the left. "It works!", I exclaimed. "It works! The Distributor is the best entity ever! No offense, Mr. Detective!"
"None taken, kid", the Detective chuckled.
We continued our way until we reached a threshold and when we crossed it, we found ourselves in the most horrifying room I had ever seen. There were dolls, small porcelain dolls in elaborate dresses, filling the shelves to the point that the walls were entirely obscured. The dim lighting cast shadows on their painted faces.
And as soon as we entered, they all turned their heads in unison, focusing their lifeless eyes on us.
I grabbed John's arm and held onto him as I waited for the dolls to stand up and attack us, but they didn't move any further. All they did was stare.
"Now that was mildly unsettling", John commented, which was probably the understatement of the century. I gave him a no shit look and turned my attention back to the dolls, looking around the room.
"Fuck", I whispered when my eyes fell upon a certain spot on one of the shelves. "There's the first one."
Right there it was, hidden between the porcelain faces. Decaying flesh and crumbling bones, old clothes fused with rotten skin. They held a small doll in their frail arms, not a porcelain one but one made of fabric, holding onto it for dear life while the remains of their face was distorted with fear.
"I thought they would be... I didn't...", I stuttered as I slowly approached the child's corpse. "They must have been so scared."
John sighed. "Let's just focus on not ending like them."
"But..."
He put a hand on my shoulder. "We can't do anything for them, Billie."
I knew he was right, but it was still a lot to see a dead child right in front of me. Though I had to admit, as tragic as this was, it wasn't quite as bad as seeing Derek turn into an ash monster right in front of me.
"Hey, kid!", the Detective called and I turned around to look at him. "Your dog disappeared", he informed me matter-of-factly.
And indeed, Kira was nowhere to be seen.
"What? Where is she? Hey, you... whatever you are! Where's my dog? Where did you take her?", I screamed at the entity that was in charge of this place.
Again, the dolls snapped their heads around, staring in our direction. "You're taking to long", they spoke with the shrill voice I had heard before. "It's getting boring. Hurry, Sybille, hurry and I'll give her back to you."
"Alive and unharmed!", I demanded.
"Alive and unharmed", the dolls agreed. "Now go. One has been found, two are missing still."
With shaking hands I lifted the compass again, waited for the needle to settle for one direction and finally left the doll room, John and the Detective following right behind.
Now with a time limit looming over us, we hurried through hallway after hallway, only stopping at crossroads as we waited for the compass to adjust. Everything looked the same, always the same after every turn, red carpet and yellow light and golden framed mirrors until I thought I'd lose my mind. The mirrors were the worst part, because every now and then, I caught a movement in the corner of my eyes that didn't belong to me or my companions.
Traversing the mazelike corridors felt like an eternity and it was maddening to the point where I felt relief when we reached a new door. I threw it open and crossed the threshold quickly, only to stop dead in my movement as I took the impossible room in.
It was bottomless. Or maybe it had a bottom, I certainly wouldn't know, because finding out would mean trowing myself into the pitch black abyss. And in said abyss were platforms that were bathed in blinding lights, colourful and erratic like the ones you'd see at a carneval. It was dizzying to look at – rainbow coloured platforms floating above the pit, and a red door on the opposite side.
The compass, of course, pointed at this red door.
"You guys go first", I told my companions with a shaking voice. "You get to the next platform and I'll hand the compass over before I jump."
John raised an eyebrow. "Why..."
"Look at me!", I cut him off, gesturing at my body. My rather short, slightly overweight body. "I'm the least likely of us to make these jumps. And this little compass is the only thing that's keeping us alive, so we can't risk losing it in this pit, so... you go first. And I'll hand you the compass."
They agreed and the Detective jumped first, followed by John. The distance between the platforms wasn't all that huge, so I could carefully hand the compass to John before taking the leap. I made it – although barely – and the Detective grabbed my arm as soon as my feet touched the platform, pulling me away from the edge.
And so we crossed through the room, jumping from platform to platform, making sure the compass wouldn't be dropped. My heart was racing the entire time, so fast that I was afraid I'd just faint everytime I had to jump. The adrenaline was the only thing that kept me on my feet. With every leap I saw myself fall into the gaping abyss, and I found myself surprised whenever I landed on solid ground.
But it worked. Slowly, but with a steady pace, we advanced through the room, always towards the red door.
Until it didn't work, of course. Until we inevitably failed.
Until I failed.
We were close to the door already and I could see a small figure right beside it; relief flooded through me as I realized that the second child was right there. I had just handed the compass over and took a few steps backwards, ran towards the edge like I had done several times before, and jumped.
I could feel my feet slip the moment I leapt.
My scream cut through the absolute silence like a lightning strike. In the fracture of a second I saw myself falling, being swallowed by the void until the blinding lights were nothing but a far memory, shattering on the ground somewhere deep down in the pit where no one would ever find my broken body. I reached out, desperate to hold onto something.
My hands clung to the edge of the platform.
"Pull me up!", I screamed at the two men. "Pull me up, please, don't let me fall!"
"Give me a moment!" John sounded almost equally panicked as he fumbled to tuck the compass away.
"I don't have a moment, my fucking hands are slipping!" I was quickly losing my grip, wether because the surface was slick or because I wasn't strong enough to keep holding on. And I was nauseous, oh so very sick to my stomach as I was seconds away from falling. I desperately tried to dig my fingers into the metal, but I was barely able to hold on anymore.
Cool hands wrapped around my wrist just before I lost my grip entirely. "I've got you", John exclaimed.
"Pull me up!"
"You're heavy!"
"Fuck you!", I spat, though my shaking voice didn't carry my annoyance.
A second pair of hands grabbed my other wrist then and I turned my head slightly to look at the Detective. "Got you, kid", he reassured me.
"I take everything back, you're the best entity ever!"
The two men pulled me up then, up to the security of the platform, and as soon as I had solid ground beneath my feet, I wrapped my arms around John and hugged him tight as I tried to calm my racing heart. "Thank you", I whispered over and over again.
"You're welcome, Billie", he replied, sounding almost as out of breath as I did, while he held me and let me cry.
The final three jumps were the most terrifying thing I had ever been forced to do, but we made it with no further incident. When all three of us stood safely on the final platform, I took the compass back from John and approached the corpse that lay next to the red door. Another young child, half rotten, cowering with its back against the wall and its arms wrapped around its knees. "We found the second one!", I announced to the voice.
A high pitched giggle echoed through the air. "Too slow, Sybille! You're too slow!", it taunted.
"No!" I spun around, afraid of what I would see, and indeed, only the Detective was standing on the platform with me. "No, not him! Give him back to me!"
"You'll get him back if you hurry up", the voice replied. "I won't warn you again..."
"Okay. Okay. We'll hurry." I reached for the red door and opened it – of course it revealed yet another hallway – when the Detective touched my arm.
"You alright, kid?", he asked.
"Nope. Far from it, to be honest." I flashed a bitter smile. "Shall we?" And with that, I grabbed his hand – like I had usually done with John, and I hated how the Detective's cold skin felt so different from his – and we ran.
Another set of unchanging corridors later, the compass led us to a new door and this time all I felt was dread. After porcelain dolls and bottomless pits, I had no desire to find out what was waiting for us in the supposed last room of this maze. However, we had to hurry if we wanted John and Kira back.
Whatever I had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been a mirror maze.
I saw myself countless times, sometimes distorted, sometimes as a crystal clear reflection. I let go off the Detective's hand and stepped further into the room, closer to one of the mirrors, and looked at my compass, hoping that it would guide us through the labyrinth. But the needle was spinning, with no sign that it would settle soon.
"Fuck!", I cursed. The compass, my lifesaver, was absolutely useless in here. Fine, whatever, it was just a single room. We could manage that. "Stay close to me, Mr. ..." The words died on my tongue as I turned my head and found myself all alone.
"Too slow, Sybille", the voice taunted again. "Last chance, our you'll stay forever."
"Go fuck yourself!" I started to run. With no idea where to go, I ran straight forward until I hit a mirror, where I turned to another direction and repeated the action. After a short while though, I wasn't sure wether I was running in circles or not. Nothing changed, except for the increasing fear on my reflection's face.
Tears rose in my eyes and I tried blinking them away. I stopped in front of a mirror before choosing a new direction, staring at my crying self, when I noticed a movement in the background. I spun around, but there was no one behind me, yet when I looked back at the mirror, John was staring back at me.
"John!", I screamed and tapped against the glass. "John! Can you hear me?"
If he could, he didn't show it, but he lifted his arm and pointed left.
"Oh my god, thank you! Thank you so much!" And I ran off, into the direction he wanted me to.
He was there at the next crossroad. And the one after that. Always there, pointing me in the right direction. And I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, praying that I would make it in time.
Until I found it. The small corpse, surrounded by mirrors, curled up on the floor. I stopped in front of the body and wondered if it was wrong to feel relief at the sight. I didn't matter though. I had made it. "I found it, asshole!", I screamed at the voice. "I found your siblings, now let me and my friends go!"
"As I promised I would", the voice agreed. A cobweb of cracks spread through the mirrors around me and before I understood what was happening, they shattered all at once and glass was raining down around me. I stood between the glittering shards, and in front of me were two doors. One black, one white.
"Which one leads where?", I asked.
"The black one leads outside, where your friends are already waiting", the voice explained. "The blue-eyed man, the Detective, and the dog. All alive and well, like I promised."
"And the other?" Though I couldn't imagine anything I would choose over my friends.
"The white one leads to my hallways. You'll stay, Sybille, keep me company. And in exchange, my three siblings can go home."
"The kids are dead!", I replied.
"I can bring them back", the voice informed me. "I'm a god in these corridors, I can bring them back to life, it wouldn't be a challenge." It giggled. "Think about it, Sybille. Three children, returned to their parents... the Detective would be so happy, wouldn't he? To have a happy ending for his case. And what difference would it make for you, you're stuck either way. Nothing in my corridors would try to kill you. Not like the Midnight Train."
And it was right, maybe it made no difference which prison I'd stay in. I could be a hero. Three lives for one – it should be an easy choice, really. But it would also mean giving up the tiny sliver of hope I still had, that I could find a way to leave the Midnight Train and go home.
I looked at the white door for a moment, then took a few steps forward. "I'm sorry, asshole", I said to the voice. "That's not the kind of person I am."
And so I stepped through the black door, only to find myself on top of the hill again, with John, Kira, and the Detective already waiting for me.
Kira tackled me immediately and I let her, combed my fingers through her fur and reassured her that everything was alright, I was back and we were okay. The next thing I did was throw myself at John and hug him. "I'm so sorry!", I sobbed into his shoulder. "You saved me twice back there, I owe you my life."
"It's okay, Billie", he promised me. "And we're never going outside again."
"Deal!" I let go off him and turned to the Detective. "I'm sorry about the kids."
He just shrugged and took a drag of his cigarette – which was still the same length as it had been when John and I had arrived. "Not your fault, kid."
I didn't correct him.
"We should go back to the train", John said. "Before it drives off without us."
I nodded and grabbed his hand, weirdly anxious that he would just vanish again, even though we had left the corridors behind. Kira was by my side, as always, but what was curious was the fact that the Detective followed us too. "You're coming along?", I asked.
"My case is closed", he answered, as if that explained anything. I didn't question it any further.
The Conductor was waiting for us when we arrived back at the train. "Welcome aboard, sir", he greeted the Detective politely, before turning to us. "Welcome back, sir, ma'am. I hope you had a pleasant trip."
"Sure. Whatever." Now that the adrenaline was leaving my body, I felt nothing but exhausted. I leaned my head against John's shoulder as we walked down the hall, towards our compartments. Although I had never expected to feel this way, I was happy to be back in the train. My resolve to escape the Midnight Train, however, had only hardened. If only to justify my decision back in the corridors.
This is all for now, I guess. Next time, everything goes to shit and more decisions are made.
Until then, be careful which doors you open.
You never know where they lead.
- To Be Continued -

Company Name	Title	City
ESPERANZA HEALTH CENTERS	Hospital Manager	Chicago
Encompass Health	RN	North Chicago
KAG	Immediate Openings Diesel Mechanic Multiple Shifts Morton Grove	Chicago
Crown Services, Inc.	Warehouse Forklift Operator	Chicago
Accede Solutions Inc	Supply Chain ManageInventory Manager(Healthcare)	Chicago
Skills For Chicagolands Future	Package Handler - UPS (Various Locations)	Chicago
PeopleShare	1st SHIFT and 2nd SHIFT WAREHOUSE PACKER POSITIONS	Chicago
CSX Corporation	Freight Conductor - Chicago, IL	Chicago
Alliance Ground International, LLC.	Warehouse Agent-NCA	Chicago
Tribune Publishing	Dock Coordinator	Chicago
Northwestern Memorial Healthcare	Supply Chain Specialist II Logistics	Chicago
Littelfuse, Inc	Import & Export Classification Manager	Chicago
PGA TOUR Superstore	Receiving Team Lead	Chicago
Harvest Food Group, Inc.	Assistant Warehouse Supervisor	Chicago
Indotronix International Corporation	Enterprise Engineer IV - Application Packager - 12297	Chicago
Odyssey	Warehouse Operator / Roll Clamp Driver	Chicago
FARO Cargo Handling Solutions LLC	Export / Import Experienced Office Agents $450 SIGN ON BONUS	Chicago
Foxtrot	Sorter	Chicago
Summer House	Stocker	Chicago
American Eagle Outfitters Inc.	Todd Snyder - Stock Lead - US	Chicago
WSI Supply Chain Solutions	Warehouse Operations Director	Chicago Heights
Select Source International	Packaging Operator II	North Chicago
Select Source International	Warehouse Specialist I	North Chicago
Linamar	Warehouse Person	West Chicago
UCS Forest Group	Warehouse Associate (Afternoon Shift)	West Chicago

Hey guys, here are some recent job openings in chicago. Feel free to comment here or send me a private message if you have any questions, I'm at the community's disposal! If you encounter any problems with any of these job openings please let me know that I will modify the table accordingly. Thanks!

Link to Hub

Recapping 2022

2022 was a dangerous year to be a Vikings fan, especially if you have a pre-existing heart condition. While a season of 13 wins -- tied for the most since 1998 -- may seem like the team is in a position to make a Superbowl push, the actual quality of the team is a lot more... well, mediocre.
The 2022 Vikings ranked 19th in offensive EPA per play, 25th in defensive EPA per play, 27th in Overall DVOA, and 15th in Pythagorean Wins (with 8.4 expected wins). Kevin O'Connell always preached the performance of the team in priority situations. The team finished 12th in 3rd down conversion rate and 8th in red zone conversion rate. And the team led the league -- by far -- in the number of 4th quarter comebacks and game winning drives. When it was time to put up or shut up, the team put up hard. Except for in the playoffs.

2023 Offseason

All of that made the future of the Vikings tough to read. But Kwesi Adofo-Mensah and the rest of the front office told us what they thought of the team with their free agency moves. In a league where teams are trading the farm for Hall of Fame QBs and giving $20M/Year deals to nose tackles and guards, the Vikings' big free agent splash were a one year deal on an injury-prone DE and a good-not-great corner that doesn't even crack the top 20 highest AAVs at the position. Concurrently, the team parted ways with half of the team's 2022 captains to try to get under the cap. All of this while the team is not done with transactions -- Dalvin Cook still presents as a cut candidate due to his age and contract structure.
Notable Departures:

• WR Adam Thielen ($6.4 Saved / $13.5 Dead)
• LB Eric Kendricks ($9.5 Saved / $1.93 Dead)
• CB Patrick Peterson (Unrestricted Free Agent)
• DT Dalvin Tomlinson (Unrestricted Free Agent)
• EDGE Za'Darius Smith (Post-draft trade)

Notable Arrivals:

• CB Byron Murphy (2Y / $17.5TOT / $8.1GTD)
• EDGE Marcus Davenport (1Y / $13TOT / $10GTD)
• TE Josh Oliver (3Y / $21TOT / $8.2GTD)
• DT Dean Lowry (2Y / $8.5TOT / $4.2GTD)

Other Notable Transactions:

• Re-Signed C Garrett Bradbury (3Y / $15.75TOT / $5.15GTD)
• Re-Signed RB Alexander Mattison (2Y / $7TOT / $6.35GTD)
• Re-Signed FB CJ Ham (3Y / $5.6TOT / $3.3GTD)
• Re-Signed All-Pro LS Andrew DePaola (3Y / $4.025TOT / $1.515GTD)

The other major change that influenced how the team addresses the draft was the shift from Ed Donatell's Cover 2 shell defense to Brian Flores's aggressive man defense. Compared to the 2022 Vikings, Flores's 2021 Dolphins blitzed over twice as often and played with light boxes at roughly half the rate. On top of the front seven, one of the biggest changes in scheme is the Cover 2 alignment, which Donatell employed on nearly half of all defensive snaps compared to just 12% for Flores's 2021 Miami team. With one crop of rookies and free agents brought in to play in a Fangio style scheme, the defense would have to undergo a massive shift to succeed in a scheme that can only be described as the complete opposite of what was run in 2022.

Draft Needs

Cornerback - Arguably the Vikings' biggest need, the team was without a true CB1. Byron Murphy comes aboard as the most experienced player. Pegged a slot-only player through his first three years, Murphy spent most of his time in 2022 outside and had a career year. After that, the team looked to rely on improvements from their 2022 draft class with Andrew Booth and Akayleb Evans, two players that combined for fewer than 300 defensive snaps last season primarily due to injury. You can see how KAM and crew, confident in their scouting ability, are betting on health to affect the secondary for the better. But taking another bet on a young player is a smart move at a position where depth is always a good thing.
Interior Defensive Line - The loss of Dalvin Tomlinson -- who played 551 snaps last year and compiled 14 pressures -- leaves issues next to Harrison Phillips. Jonathan Bullard was third on the IDL with 319 snaps last season and returns on a one year deal. Tonga and Lynch had some flashes, and the team brought in Lowry. The rotation (optimistically) can get to competent. But finding a true winner on the inside of the line was viewed by many as a priority.
Wide Receiver - The Vikings starting personnel at WR heading in to the draft was Justin Jefferson (stud), KJ Osborn (decent), and... Jalen Nailor? Brandon Powell? Oh dear Lord don't tell me it's Jalen Reagor. The loss of Adam Thielen was expected, but nevertheless leaves a gaping hole next to JJ and KJ in the lineup. Keenan McCardell is arguably the best WR coach in the league, and playing with Jefferson would give one-on-one opportunities for any receiver. But having somebody that can actually win those one-on-ones remains a question.
Inside Linebacker - Eric Kendricks's jersey change marks the true end of an era at LB. Kendricks struggled in Donatell's scheme last season, as did most players. But he was a longtime leader on the defense and a valued community member. Jordan Hicks, Brian Asamoah, and Troy Reeder sit atop the depth chart. Hicks can be solid and Asamoah had flashes, but counting on this group as every down players is a risk to say the least.
Offensive Guard - Ed Ingram was one of the worst starting guards in the league last season. But he's a rookie. Maybe he gets better in year 2. Maybe he stays terrible. Even if you're optimistic there, Ezra Cleveland is entering a contract year at left guard. Adding interior offensive line depth is always smart.
Quarterback - This offseason, reports surfaced that the team and QB Kirk Cousins could not finalize a contract extension. That means for the first time in his Vikings tenure, Cousins is entering a contract year. Cousins has been an above average QB during his time in Minnesota. Last year saw him finish 4th in yards, but he was painfully mediocre at efficiency stats like TD percent (17th), ANY/A (18th), and ADOT (20th). Entering his age-35 season, it would be wise to look for a successor even if the team plans on retaining Cousins past 2023.

The Draft

*Indicates measure is taken from Pro Day
1.23 WR Jordan Addison, USC
Profile: Jr 5'11 173lbs 31.5 Arm\ 8.75 Hand 75.125 Wing* 4.49 40 1.57 10 34 VJ 10'2 BJ 4.19 SS* 7.05 3c 5.95 RAS*
2022 Stats: 11 Gm 59 Rec 875 Yds 8 TD 2 Drops
Steve Smith Sr: "Addison has one of the highest ceilings among WRs in this draft due to his blend of route running chops and his all around athleticism. He is a three level route runner: intermediate, deep, and short... The way he can get in and out of his breaks is so natural. He uses leverage. And he manipulates the DB consistently"
Addison -- a Biletnikoff Award winner during his Pitt days -- is one of the highest floor players in the class. He is a route running technician with proven dominance playing inside and outside. He had more than 3 yards per route run in two different offenses. He understands how to marry his athleticism and quickness with the breaks in his routes. He finds the DB's blind spot and forces them to lose. Addison is a bit on the small side, but not abnormally so given this draft class. He does have some concerns with his hands -- his drop rates as a freshman and sophomore were 14% and 10%, respectively -- but he showed improvement in this as a junior.
The need here is clear. As mentioned earlier, the WR depth past JJ and KJ is abysmal. Even with Thielen and Osborn on the roster in 2022, the Vikings needed juice in the WR room. The 2022 Vikings had one top 5 WR in yards per route run (Jefferson). There was no other receiver in the top 100. Teams were not worried about Thielen or Osborn. Teams could put two or three defenders on Jefferson without any fear of what anyone else might do to their defense. Hockenson fixed this a bit down the stretch, but an outside playmaker was still needed.
The real question here is why the team opted not to go for CB Joey Porter Jr, who filled what many considered to be the team's biggest need and was a higher ranked prospect for Lance Zierlein, PFF, Danny Kelly, Matt Miller, and Dane Brugler. The answer here -- if I can take a guess and stretch my logic a bit -- is that the need at WR2 was greater than the need at CB. Patrick Peterson was the biggest loss in the secondary, and the team brought in Byron Murphy to try to fill that role. On offense, Minnesota had not brought in a replacement for Adam Thielen. The depth chart past Jefferson and Osborn was filled with bodies that might not make a 53-man roster on a lot of teams.
Trade: SF gives 3.87 to MIN for 3.102, 5.164, 7.222

	Jimmy Johnson	Rich Hill	Fitzgerald-Spielberger	Harvard
Total give	155	48	737	115
Total get	117.7	45	1334	197
Absolute Diff	-37.3	-3	+597	+82
Percent Diff	-24%	-6%	+81%	+71%

The biggest thing to consider when evaluating this trade is that the Vikings came into the draft with 5 picks, only two of which were in the top 100. In my biased opinion, this was a home run trade, even if the traditional charts disagree. To take three swings at the bat instead of one is a humble and wise strategy, especially for a team with limited draft capital. The move looks even better in hindsight because there were no CBs taken between 87 and 102.
3.102 CB Mekhi Blackmon, USC
Profile: 6Sr 5'11" 178lbs 31" Arm 9.25" Hand 74.625" Wing 4.47 40 1.47 10 36 VJ 10'5" BJ 11 Bench 7.44 RAS
2022 Stats: 14 Gm 66 TKL 2 TFL 1 FF 15 PD 3 INT
Brett Kollman: "Feisty, physical press corner who definitely has to play more under control in the NFL to avoid flags, but he has all the competitiveness you want to see from a potential CB1 at the next level. Never backs down from anyone. Has easy gas to stay in control of a route from top down, even against true burners. Legit 4.4 speed and gets up to it quickly. Outstanding ball production... Held up extremely well despite being targeted often. Battle tested, aggressive, and confident... Very similar to Desmond Trufant."
An unrecruited high school positionless player out of high school that signed with JuCo San Mateo, Blackmon followed up four seasons at Colorado with a breakout 2022 campaign as one of the best defenders on the USC defense. The Trojans played a man-heavy scheme, which let Blackmon shine. He has great anticipation and instincts. His production this year says as much. He plays bigger than his size, and he has inside-outside versatility. He will have to clean up some of his physicality to avoid flags at the next level. He will also have to refine his technique to stay with the more complex routes he'll see. But he is a strong culture and scheme fit for what Brian Flores is bringing to the defense.
The need at CB was obvious even before hiring Flores. The Vikings ranked 31st in passing yards allowed, 26th in Passing DVOA, and 24th in EPA allowed per pass attempt. Bringing in Byron Murphy helps. So do the healthy returns of Booth and Evans. But Murphy has not yet shown that he can be a consistently great player (or at least not markedly better than what we got out of Patrick Peterson last year). And Booth and Evans are unproven. Blackmon -- taken with the last pick on Day 2 -- is not expected to come in and be Jalen Ramsey or Sauce Gardner. But in a shift to a more aggressive man-coverage defense with a thin CB room, Blackmon is an upside player that will have every chance to take a starting spot on a porous defense.
Trade: MIN gives 4.119 to KC for 4.134, 2024 5th\*

	Jimmy Johnson	Rich Hill	Fitzgerald-Spielberger	Harvard
Total give	56	24	578	88
Total get	58.4	24	898	133
Absolute Diff	+2.4	0	+320	+45
Percent Diff	+4%	0%	+36%	+34%

On top of entering the weekend with a mere 5 draft picks in the current year, the Vikings also entered with a mere 5 draft picks in the 2024 class (3rd rounder traded for Hockenson, 5th rounder traded for Reagor). Dropping 15 picks in a relatively flat part of the draft while adding a mid-Day 3 pick is good business given this team's lack of capital.
*Here we assume a future pick in round n is valued at the middle pick of round n+1, not accounting for compensatory picks. In this case, a 2024 5th is equated to pick 176.
4.134 S Jay Ward, LSU
Profile: Sr 6'0.5" 188lbs 32.5" Arm 8.25" Hand 76.875" Wing 4.55 40 1.54 10 34.5 VJ 11' BJ 4.35 Shuttle\ 7.31 3c 16 Bench 6.70 RAS*
2022 Stats: 13 Gm 60 TKL 2.5 TFL 5 PD 1 INT 2 FR TD
Nate Tice: "A ton of fun. I just like this fit because of Brian Flores's defense. Just picture all of those mixture guys that the Patriots have used over the years... Jay Ward can be that"
A three year starter with reps at safety, slot, and outside CB, Ward is one of the most versatile players in the class. He possesses excellent length and movement skills. His experience at CB make him a fluid player in coverage. In the run game, Ward's size is a concern. His 188lbs Combine weight puts him in just the second percentile for safeties. This translates to issues with taking on blocks. He is a very aggressive player, beelining to the ball as soon as it's out. But his size coupled with his impatient playstyle lead to a lot of missed tackles. He was also flagged seven times last season.
In his final season in Miami, Flores was extremely creative with how he employed his safeties. Jevon Holland had the 2nd most blitzes in the league at the position. The number 1 player? His teammate Brandon Jones. With the defense taking on Flores's amoeba identity, an aggressive player with experience at multiple positions has the potential to find a role early on. The defense will look to utilize him similar to how Jevon Holland was used as a rookie. And with Harrison Smith well into the twilight of his career, Ward is a timely pick as the team attempts to thread the needle in their competitive rebuild.
Trade: MIN gives 5.158, 6.211 to IND for 5.141

	Jimmy Johnson	Rich Hill	Fitzgerald-Spielberger	Harvard
Total give	32.4	13	722	103
Total get	36	15	492	74
Absolute Diff	+4	+2	-230	-29
Percent Diff	+10%	+13%	-47%	-39%

It's a bit strange to see Adofo-Mensah move away from the analytics charts in favor of the traditional ones, but the value swap here is not absurd. The real question with this trade will be if Roy ends up being a true contributor.
5.141 NT Jaquelin Roy, LSU
Profile: Jr 6'3" 305lbs 32.75" Arm 10.125" Hand 78.125" Wing 5.13 40\ 1.82 10* 26" VJ* 8'5" BJ* 5.00 Shuttle 8.01 3c 30 Bench 3.72 RAS*
2022 Stats: 13 Gm 49 TKL 3.5 TFL 0.5 SCK
Lance Zierlein: " The more you watch, the more you like the way Roy plays the game... Despite limited starting experience at LSU, he already displays signs of a rush plan and the athletic talent to execute it. Roy is an ascending talent with the potential to become a quality starter. "
After a 30 tackle, 1.5 sack campaign as a rotational player in 2021, Roy shifted from a penetrating 3T position to more of a traditional nose tackle under new HC Brian Kelly. This transition let Roy shine as a run stuffer. He eats space and is incredibly tough to move from his spot. He averaged almost 52 snaps a game in 2022 and his motor never let up. He has some work to do if he wants to be a three down player, particularly as a pass rusher. His bend and balance in this front are especially lacking.
The Vikings' front office seems to be a lot more comfortable with the current IDL room than I am. Harrison Phillips is a plus starter. Past that, the roster is filled with unproven youth or proven subpar players. As a 5th round pick, Roy has an uphill battle to separate himself from that group. But he's a good lottery ticket at this price. His positional versatility ensures that the defense can simply put their best players on the field.
5.164 QB Jaren Hall, BYU
Profile: RSr 6'0" 207lbs 39.75" Arm 9.5" Hand 71.875" Wing 4.63 40\ 1.59 10* 4.19 Shuttle* 7.06 3c* 7.96 RAS*
2022 Stats: 12 Gm 248 Comp 376 Att 66% Comp 3171 Yds 31 TD 6 INT 86 Rush 789 Rush Yds 9 RUsh TD
Kwesi Adofo-Mensah: "We added a really talented player that has a ton of upside... The ability to make decisions, throw the football accuracy, deal with conflict when it comes his way, and sometimes try to make a play outside the framework of the playcall. He does all those things at a really great level... That's an outstanding young man. I'd like to see him lead my team or any organization I'm a part of."
Despite being the third oldest prospect in the QB class, Hall only has 24 starts under his belt due to two years on religious mission and one year with a hip injury. But when Hall took over for Zach Wilson in 2021, he hit the ground running. BYU went 10-3 in that first year with Hall compiling a 4:1 TD:INT ratio. He is a two time team captain, and all reports of his character are off the charts.
Hall is a poised pocket passer capable of extending plays and picking up yardage on the ground. He was only sacked 12 times in 2022, which is a testament to both BYU's offensive line and Hall's ability to create under pressure. There are conflicting opinions on Hall's upside and arm strength, with Lance Zierlein calling his arm "unimpressive" while Kyle Crabbs claiming that hall has a "live arm with the ability to throw with juice off platform". Where there was near-universal agreement was in his understanding of the scheme, as Hall operated BYU's RPO-heavy offense like a machine. He has a clean release and quickly gets into a rhythm. His largest universal concerns are his age (he turned 25 in March) and his injury history (missed 20 games in the last 4 years). He also has ball security issues with 13 fumbles over his career.
I expected the Vikings to draft a QB in this class. The only question was if it would have been via a trade up on Day 1 or a flyer on Day 3 (or a falling Will Levis). With his age, size, and injury history, there are plenty of questions about what Hall can be. He will have a year in practice to put together his audition tape to be Kirk Cousins's replacement -- it's certainly a viable path for this team to take a RiddeHowell/Mills-esque year to evaluate Hall while they continue retooling the defense. But the more likely path is that Hall becomes a long-term backup for the team. Cousins has been the model of health, but that doesn't mean that QB2 is an unimportant position. Sean Mannion, Kellen Mond, and Nick Mullens have manned that position to various degrees over the past few years. None has shown that they can be a competent plug-in player if needed. There is some hope that Hall -- who operated the BYU offense with a mechanic efficiency -- can be that player.
7.222 RB DeWayne McBride, UAB
Profile: Jr 5'10" 209lbs 30.625" Arms 9.5" Hands 73.125" Wing 20 Bench\*
2022 Stats: 11 Gm 233 Att 1713 Yds 19 TD 7.4 Y/A 2 Rec 10 Rec Yds
Dane Brugler: "Overall, McBride is unproven as a pass catcher and blocker, which might restrict his NFL role, but his contact balance, vision and lateral agility are among the best this running back draft class has to offer"
In an era of advanced metrics and Combine showmanship, perhaps the trait that has gone underappreciated more than any other in RB scouting is balance. McBride may have the best balance in the entire RB class outside of Bijan Robinson. He comes from a heavy outside zone scheme at UAB, where he led the FBS in yards per game and set school records for single-game and single-season rushing. McBride absorbs contact like a sponge. His short area burst is strong, and he makes defenders miss with power and finesse. McBride has ideal size and toughness. His concerns are simple. He was not utilized as a receiver in college, and he had more career fumbles than catches in that time. McBride profiles as a two-down player at the next level. Although Adofo-Mensah has voiced his belief that McBride's passing game usage was a product of scheme rather than ability, McBride still has to prove that he is more than just a short yardage runner in the NFL.
After spending a pick in back to back years on RB and re-signing Mattison to a modest contract, RB was a bit of an unexpected pick for this regime. Dalvin Cook still seems to be movable (a likely cut candidate at this point), which would make this pick more logical. Chandler struggled with injuries as a rookie, but both he and Nwangwu profile more as speedy scatbacks than true between-the-tackle runners like Mattison. Even Mattison has never been a true three-down back. McBride plays much more similarly to Mattison than the other backs on the team. He will try to carve out a role behind him as the future thunder to the lightning provided by Chandler and Nwangwu.

UDFA

FB Zach Ojile, Minnesota Duluth
Profile: 6Sr 6'0" 241lbs 31.5" Arms 8.5" Hands 75.5" Wing 4.78 40\ 1.79 10* 31" VJ* 9'1" BJ* 4.40 Shuttle* 31 Bench* 4.15 RAS*
2022 Stats: 11 Gm 12 Rush 53 Rush Yds 3 Rush TD 25 Rec 289 Rec Yds 5 Rec TD
A Twin Cities native, Ojile was a late addition to the roster, joining after a May rookie minicamp tryout. Ojile played LB, QB, FS, and RB in high school but found a role as an H-Back at UMD. He served as a team captain the past two seasons and finishes his collegiate career with over 1100 total yards and 24 total TDs. He was an All-Conference player for the DII NSIC Bulldogs. Whether Ojile participates at FB or TE, he'll need to prove his versatility to beat out the veterans on the depth chart. Working in his favor is Kevin O'Connell's shift to a more base-heavy offense in 2023.
WR Cephus Johnson, Southeastern Louisiana
Profile: 6Sr 6'4" 223lbs 33.25" Arm\ 8.5" Hand* 78.625" WIng* 4.57 40* 1.59 10* 36.5" VJ* 10'1" BJ* 4.39 Shuttle* 7.25 3c* 18 Bench* 9.48 RAS*
2022 Stats: 11 Gm 184 Pass Att 65% Comp 1354 Pass Yds 10 Pass TD 5 INT 89 Rush 488 Rush Yds 5 Rush TD
Johnson is making the fulltime switch from QB to WR as he attempts to latch on to an NFL practice squad. He earned the starting role for South Alabama as a redshirt junior before transferring to SE Louisiana, where he took some snaps at WR in spring games. Johnson's stats were unimpressive as a starting QB, notching just 1354 yards and a 2:1 TD:INT ratio in 11 starts. He has good size and instincts as a runner, but he has basically no experience playing WR.
WR Lucky Jackson, W Kentucky / XFL DC Defenders
Profile: RSr 6'0" 179lbs 9.624" Hand\ 32.25" Arm* 75.875" Wing**
2023 Stats: 10 Gm 36 Rec 572 Yds 5 TD 1 Fmb
Jackson last put on a college uniform before the pandemic for Western Kentucky, where his 2019 season saw him put up over 1100 yards on 94 receptions. Following his college days, Jackson spent time in the CFL and the Spring League before joining the XFL's DC Defenders and becoming an All-XFL receiver.
WR Malik Knowles, Kansas St
Profile: RSr 6'2" 196lbs 32.25" Arm 8.75" Hand 77.625" Wing
2022 Stats: 14 Gm 48 Rec 725 YDs 2 TD 8 Rush 164 Rush Yds 3 Rush TD 23 KR 592 KR Yds
Knowles is a vertical threat with good size and length. He offers value as a kick returner and leaves Kansas State with a top 5 rank in all-purpose yards. Knowles is an undeveloped route runner that struggles with quick change-of-direction. He also has trouble with press coverage. He'll need to prove his value on special teams, where he has plenty of collegiate experience as a kick returner.
WR Grant Maag, North Dakota
Profile: 5Sr 6'4" 206lbs 9.25" Hand\ 31.875" Arm* 77.625" Wing* 4.49 40YD* 1.60 10YS* 40.5" VJ* 10'5" BJ* 4.34 Shuttle* 6.90 3c* 8.50 RAS*
2022 Stats: 12 Gm 41 Rec 540 Yds 5 TDs
Maag was brought in following the announcement of Ben Ellefson's retirement. He is an Inver Grove Heights native and a graduate of St Croix Lutheran in St Paul. He leaves North Dakota with over 2000 yards over his five years and served as a team captain the past two seasons. His size gives him an advantage with a shorter WR group ahead of him, but Maag is a far cry from a roster lock.
WR Thayer Thomas, NC State
Profile: 6Sr 6'0" 198lbs 9" Hand\ 30.125" Arm* 73.5" Wing 4.56 40* 1.63 10* 37" VJ* 10' BJ* 4.03 Shuttle* 6.93 3c* 15 Bench* 7.85 RAS*
2022 Stats: 13 Gm 57 Rec 642 Yds 4 TDs 2 Rush Att 44 Rush Yds 1 Rush TD 17 PR 128 PR Yds
A multisport athlete that was drafted by the Red Sox in 2019, Thomas walked onto the Wolfpack football team and got onto the field any way he could. In 2018, he saw work as a receiver, punt returner, and passer. Thomas has good hands (a career drop rate of 4%) and a high work ethic, but he is an undeveloped route runner that struggles to create much after the catch. He will need to prove his worth on special teams if he wants to make the roster.
TE Ben Sims, Baylor
Profile: RSr 6'4" 250lbs 33.125" Arm\ 9.5" Hand* 80.125" Wing* 4.58 40YD* 1.56 10YS 36" Vert* 10'2" Broad* 4.41 Shuttle* 7.46 3c* 15 Bench* 8.40 RAS*
2022 Stats: 12 Gm 31 Rec 255 Yds 3 TDs 2 Drops 1 Rush TD
Sims projects as a blocking tight end with limited ability as a receiver. He's a patient run blocker with good balance and toughness, but he is still cleaning up some technique. He isn't a creator with the ball in his hands and his tape fails to demonstrate the explosiveness that his testing suggests.
OL Alan Ali, TCU
Profile: RSr 6'4" 301lbs 32.875" Arm 9.5" Hand 77.625" Wing 5.23 40\ 1.89 10* 26.5" VJ 8'5" BJ* 4.91 Shuttle* 7.94 3c* 3.80 RAS*
A 5 year starter for TCU and SMU, Ali is a fundamentally sound center prospect with good body control and core strength. He has experience playing at all 5 OL positions but spent most of the past 4 years at center. His lack of athleticism and length are likely the reason he went undrafted.
OT Jacky Chen, Pace
Profile: RSr 6'5 1/4" 299lbs 10" Hand\ 34.5" Arm* 80.75" Wing* 5.41 40* 1.81 10* 29" VJ* 8'10" BJ* 4.74 Shuttle* 7.90 3c* 24 Bench* 5.39 RAS*
It's hard to find very much information on an undrafted lineman from a DII school whose toughest opponent was the University of New Haven. Chen is an OT prospect that is viewed as a ball of clay. Chen's 40 yard dash and 3 cone were underwhelming to say the least, but he was an above average tester in burst and explosiveness drills. That combined with his length make him an interesting project.
EDGE Andre Carter II, Army
Profile: Sr 6'6.5" 256lbs 9.375" Hand 33.275" Arm 81 Wing 4.91 40\ 1.65 10* 30" VJ 9'1" BJ 4.36 Shuttle 6.97 3c* 11 Bench 6.29 RAS*
2022 Stats: 10 Gm 41 TKL 7 TFL 3.5 SCK 2 PD
The highest profile UDFA signing of the class, Carter was getting 1st round buzz this time last year. At that time, Carter was coming off an 18.5 TFL / 15.5 sack season. However, Carter struggled to repeat his production as a senior, notching just 3.5 sacks. Carter finished out the draft cycle with lackluster testing, failing to run under a 4.90 in the 40 yard dash and weighing in at a mere 256 lbs -- a big concern given his 81 inch wingspan and towering stature. Carter has a ton of upside, but he doesn't have the frame to be a real NFL player right now. After 4 years training to be an officer in the US Army, he will need at least one season (maybe more) in an NFL weight room where he can focus on building muscle mass. He'll look to follow the mold of fellow Army player Alejandro Villanueva, who added 43 lbs to his 277 lbs frame entering the league before becoming a 7-year starter. Luckily, he joined the team with one of the best training facilities in the league.
EDGE Junior Aho, SMU
Profile: 6'2" 260lbs 9" Hand 33.875" Arm 79.875" Wing 4.58 40\ 1.66 10* 33.5" VJ* 10'3" BJ* 4.90 Shuttle* 7.38 3c* 9.38 RAS*
2022 Stats: 13 Gm 23 TKL 2 TFL 2 SCK 1 FF
Quite simply, Aho is an athletic freak that should find his way onto the team thanks to the International Player Pathway roster spot. He takes pride in his speed and athleticism, but he also understands the limitations to his game. Aho was a solid rotational player for SMU. He will look to follow in the footsteps of other International Pathway players like Efe Obada and Jordan Mailata.
DT Calvin Avery, Illinois
Profile: RSr 6'1" 343 lbs 10" Hand\ 32.5" Arm 81.87" Wing 5.37 40* 1.84 10* 30.5" VJ* 8'5" BJ* 8.01 3c* 31 Bench* 3.12 RAS*
2022 Stats: 13 Gm 23 TKL 2 TFL 1 PD
Avery is a former four star recruit out of Texas, earning snaps in 12 games as a true freshman. He started 12 games in 2022, primarily at nose tackle. He has a wide, large frame that makes him hard to move. However, he is an underwhelming athlete to say the least, and his statistical production is nearly non-existent.
LB Abraham Beauplan, Marshall
Profile: RSr 5'11" 241 lbs 9.25" Hand 31.75" Arm 77 1/4" Wing 4.62 Shuttle 35.5" VJ 9'9" BJ 7.33 3c 22 Bench 4.52 RAS
2022 Stats: 12 Gm 66 TKL 6.5 TFL 1 SCK 3 PD
Beauplan started the draft process by making an appearance on Bruce Feldman's Freaks List, reportedly squatting as much as 565 lbs and benching as much as 285. The few reports that exist on Beauplan suggest he's an urgent, downhill run defender that will look to carve out a role on special teams early on.
LB Wilson Huber, Cincinnati
Profile: 6Sr 6'4" 241lbs 9.75" Hand 32.375" Arm\ 80" Wing* 4.70 40* 1.66 10* 35" VJ* 10'4" BJ* 4.45 Shuttle* 6.91 3c* 18 Bench* 8.34 RAS*
2022 Stats: 13 Gm 54 TKL 6.5 TFL 1 SCK 1 PD
A 3 star recruit out of Indiana, Huber started his career at Cincinnati as a TE. He played a hybrid role in his first 2 non-redshirt seasons, earning snaps on offense, defense, and special teams. He made a full role switch to the defensive side of the ball in 2020 and eventually earned the team captain moniker in 2022. Huber had some solid testing despite profiling as more of a thumper.
LB Ivan Pace Jr, Cincinnati
Profile: Sr 5'10.5" 231lbs 30.25" Arm 9.5" Hand 72" Wing 4.59 40\ 1.70 10* 35" VJ 9'8" BJ* 4.40 Shuttle * 7.18 3c* 22 Bench* 5.71 RAS*
2022 Stats: 13 Gm 137 TKL 21.5 TFL 10 SCK 3 FF 4 PD
Ranked the 11th best LB for Daniel Jeremiah, 9th for Dane Brugler, and 7th for PFF, many thought Pace could have gone as early as Round 3. Pace was a one year starter for the Bearcats after transferring from Miami (Ohio), and he hit the ground running. He led the AAC in tackles and TFLs. He is a smaller player (although not abnormally so in today's game) that plays with his hair on fire. He gives tremendous effort on every play and is always around the ball. Pace is a super tough player that loves to tackle. His size is a concern; he gets washed out of plays too easily. He is also lacking in coverage skills, struggling to stay connected in man coverage. Still, it's incredible that Pace went undrafted. He's an easy special teams projection as a rookie with the upside to be put in position to win under Flores.
CB CJ Coldon, Oklahoma
Profile: 6Sr 5'10" 186lbs\ 8.375" Hand* 31.125" Arm* 75.125" Wing* 4.60 40* 1.58 10* 37 1/2" VJ* 10'5" BJ* 4.24 Shuttle* 7.31 3c* 3.92 RAS*
2022 Stats: 12 Gm 42 TKL 2 TFL 4 INT 6 PBU
Coldon is an instinctual football player that relies on his feel to create ball production. He spent 5 years at Wyoming before transferring to Oklahoma and leading the team in INTs and PBUs. In zone, Coldon watches the QB and looks for the right cue to understand when and where the ball is headed.
CB NaJee Thompson, Georgia Southern
Profile: 5'10" 200lbs 9.125" Hand 32.75" Arm 76.625" Wing 4.57 40\ 1.63 10* 32" VJ* 9'8" BJ* 4.56 Shuttle* 7.40 3c* 13 Bench* 1.59 RAS*
2022 Stats: 13 Gm 37 TKL 1 TFL 11 PD 1 INT
Thompson's love for the game is undeniable. After struggling to latch onto the Georgia Southern WR room, Thompson approached his head coach asking to be exclusively a special teams player. He relishes being a gunner on punts. He eventually got moved to CB in 2021, logging 557 snaps at the position in 2022. He's undeveloped at the position, but his special teams prowess gives him a good shot at the roster.
CB Jaylin Williams, Indiana
Profile: RSr 5'9" 184lbs 9.125" Hand 29.875" Arm 71.75" Wing 4.43 40\ 1.58 10* 34.5" BJ* 9'11" BJ* 4.20 Shuttle* 7.01 3c* 13 Bench* 5.54 RAS*
2022 Stats: 10 Gm 40 TKL 2.5 TFL 7 PD 1 FR 1 BLK
A longtime role player for the Hoosiers before becoming a fulltime starter in 2019, Williams's 6 career INTs were the most amongst active players on the team last season. He earned second team All-Confernece honors in 2020 and was an honorable mention in 2021.
K Jack Podlesny, Georgia
Profile: RSr 6'0" 195lbs 29.25" Arms 9" Hands 74.75" Wing
2022 Stats: 31 Att 26 Made 50 Long 109 Kickoff 72 Touchbacks 74 PAT Att 73 PAT Made
Ranked as Dane Brugler's 4th kicker and Lance Zierlein's 3rd kicker, Podlesny enters Vikings camp following a career that saw him walk on to Georgia's football team and finish with an 82% hit rate. He hit all but one extra point last season for the national champion Bulldogs. A concern with Podlesny is his leg strength. His accuracy beyond 40 yards falls to just 54%. His clutchness may also come into question as he missed two kicks in the national championship semifinals against Ohio State.

Projected Depth Chart

Pos (Projected 2023 Rostered Count / 2022 Rostered Count): Starter, Rookie, Cuts
QB (2/2): Kirk Cousins, Jaren Hall, Nick Mullens
RB (4/4): Alexander Mattison, Kene Nwangwu, Ty Chandler, DeWayne McBride, Dalvin Cook
FB (1/1): CJ Ham, Zach Ojile
WR (5/5): Justin Jefferson, KJ Osborn, Jordan Addison, Jalen Nailor, Brandon Powell, Trishton Jackson, Jalen Reagor, Blake Proehl, Thayer Thomas, Cephus Johnson, Malik Knowles, Lucky Jackson, Garrett Maag
TE (3/3): TJ Hockenson, Josh Oliver, Johnny Mundt, Nick Muse, Ben Sims
OL (9/10): Christian Darrisaw, Ezra Cleveland, Garrett Bradbury, Ed Ingram, Brian O'Neill, Chris Reed, Austin Schlottman, Oli Udoh, Blake Brandel, Josh Sokol, Vederian Lowe, Alan Ali, Jacky Chen, Sam Schlueter
DT (7/6): Harrison Phillips, Dean Lowry, Jonathan Bullard, James Lynch, Esezi Otomewo, Jaquelin Roy, Khyiris Tonga, Ross Blacklock, Sheldon Day, TJ Smith, Calvin Avery
EDGE (4/5): Danielle Hunter, Marcus Davenport, Pat Jones II, DJ Wonnum, Luiji Vilain, Curtis Weaver, Benton Whitley, Kenny Willekes, Andre Carter II, Junior Aho
ILB (4/4): Jordan Hicks, Brian Asamoah, Troy Reeder, Ivan Pace Jr, Troy Dye, William Kwenkeu, Abraham Beauplan, Wilson Huber
CB (5/6): Byron Murphy, Andrew Booth, Akayleb Evans, Mekhi Blakmon, Joejuan Williams, Kalon Barnes, Tay Gowan, John Reid, CJ Coldon, Najee Thompson, Jaylin Williams
S (5/4): Harrison Smith, Lewis Cine, Jay Ward, Josh Metellus, Camryn Bynum, Theo Jackson
K (1/1): Greg Joseph, Jack Podlesny
P (1/1): Ryan Wright
LS (1/1): Andrew DePaola
KR: Kene Nwangwu
PR: Brandon Powell

2024 Needs

Starters Needed: QB, OG, EDGE, DT -- Whether due to expiring contracts (Cousins, Cleveland, Davenport, Hunter) or overall suckitude (Ingram, Lowry), we need to find new starters at this positions in 2024. Could we go on with average-level free agents? Maybe. Should we? Maybe not.
We'll see how the group plays: CB, LB, RB -- These are positions where the front office is counting on young players (Booth, Evans, Asamoah) to fill the roles of departed starters. If those players take that step up, these positions drop on the needs list. Otherwise, we're in for a rough season.
Depth needed: WR -- The depth after Jefferson, Osborn, and Addison is not great. And Osborn is entering a contract year. Unless Keenan McCardell works some magic with Jalen Nailor or Trishton Jackson or Thayer Thomas, this should be a position we add to next year.

Final Thoughts

Versatility. When we look at this Vikings draft class, that's the first word that comes to mind, and it comes in big bold letters. Addison has inside-outside versatility. So does Mekhi Blackmon. Jay Ward is the most versatile of the group, capable of playing every DB position plus some spot snaps at LB. Roy has been productive everywhere from 0T to 4i. And the team has talked about how much they believe McBride can contribute as a pass catcher on top of his bruiser mindset as a between-the-tackles runner.
On offense, this shift seems to stem from a philosophical change following the TJ Hockenson acquisition last year. O'Connell's unit went from trying to copy-paste Sean McVay's outside zone scheme (largely a 3WR offense) to Kyle Shanahan's outside zone scheme (largely a TE-FB offense). And in that mold, O'Connell was looking for players he could use to create the illusion of complexity. That is, how can we employ versatile players to present defenses the threat of multiplicity?
On defense, the answer is a lot simpler. By bringing over Brian Flores, the team is hoping for a jolt in tenacity and an overall move to a hybrid amoeba scheme. You can look historically at how Bill Belichick has utilized flexibility in his defenses to maximize his gameplan for whatever offensive scheme is next on the menu. You can look at players on the line of scrimmage that have experience in both 43 and 34 schemes (Hunter, Phillips, Lynch, Bullard). And in the secondary, look no further than the selection of Jay Ward as an attempt to clone players like Jevon Holland and Kyle Dugger.
As Adofo-Mensah has repeatedly said, he approaches his job with humility. He listens to those around him and he finds the point where stories marry data to make informed decisions. And in O'Connell, he found someone who shares that mentality. With the emphasis on versatility, that mindset can now be applied on a weekly (and play-by-play) basis to opponents. We'll see how successful that strategy is as the team continues to straddle the line between competitive and rebuilder, but there is certainly an energy around the fanbase with the continued success of the offense and the addition of Brian Flores.

I've tried selling this thing for weeks now on Facebook Marketplace, eventually at just 1 cent because I just genuinely want it out of my hair. And I cannot find any takers. I want someone to just take it instead of throwing it out because honestly, I'm deeply nervous about what would happen if I did. But if this advertisement proves to be just as fruitless, I will do it despite my nervousness because my mind just can't take this anymore otherwise I'm afraid I'm going to have a psychological break with reality and need to be sedated.
I grew up originally in Northern California near Mt. Shasta, and four years ago I moved to the Big Island of Hawaii after I got a new job working for the university located in Hilo as an adjunct. The search for a place to rent where I could garden in the backyard took a while, but the wait was worth it. Gardening is like comfort food for my soul, and always has been ever since I was a little girl. My mom brought me up doing it, and I took to it immediately when I was just 3 or 4 she always liked to remind me.
I suppose the reason I wanted to leave California was the fact that she wasn't there anymore, that the last piece or vestige of my family was gone and I was all that was left of the life we used to have out there. I remember the day everything was packed up for the movers and ready to go, I walked outside to wait for a friend to pick me up to take me to the airport. As I sat there on my porch, I saw an elderly man walking in front of my front yard. It was an old friend of my mom's from the neighborhood. He had been very kind to me at her funeral as he had just lost his wife himself. We both waved at each other and I got up to chat with him one last time.
As it turned out, he was there to give me a going away present. It was a batch of strange seeds in a small sack. Some were colored burgundy, others indigo, and still others ivory with fascinating patterns on them. In total, there were 19 by my count. He said that before his wife passed away, she had originally intended to give them to my mom. Apparently, during one of their hiking trips around the mountain, the two of them kept stopping to see if someone was following them. Every time they would, some tree would rustle or a bush would make a quick, sharp noise indicating some sort of disturbance. Towards the end of their hike, they stopped one final time only for them to turn around and notice that someone had left this dingy little sack of seeds on a rotted out tree stump they had just passed. In other words, there was no question at that point that they had been followed.
For what reason? He couldn't say, though obviously the implication was that whoever it was wanted them to have these seeds. His wife died soon after that, before she could pass them along to my mother. He said he was hesitant to part with them after she died, but felt extremely guilty having waited too long to give them to my mom. Now that I was heading to Hawaii, he thought he ought to just give them to me instead of continuing to keep them. Other than that, he told me to be very careful with them, to specifically pour them out into the ground from the sack instead of touching them myself. And I wondered why. Like it's such an oddly specific thing to bring up about them.
Regardless.
I took them gratefully and thanked him for the gift and said that my mother would have loved them. Now, I'm not so sure she would have.
It was only a week or so after I had finally unpacked everything in my new place that I decided to garden again. And the first thing I planted, of course, were the seeds once meant for my mom. In memory of her. It was only one I put in the ground because honestly I wasn’t exactly sure how big this thing was going to grow to be. I wasn’t even sure what exactly this thing was even going to grow to be either. Turns out, it’s a vegetable… of some kind. I think. It’s almost like a yam? Like with the same texture and everything but with bright orange skin… and fur in strange places? Also, another thing, it’s like a yam but at the time of writing this it has most definitely grown beyond the size of a typical yam. Basically it’ll increase in size every week or so by a half a foot by my measure. Also, every time it grows by that much, another bulbous root pops out and burrows itself beneath.
And oh yeah there are little blue flowers (or what I guess you could call flowers) growing out of little nooks and crannies and just random spots all over. I’m not sure what to say. I have yet to identify it. If one of you reading this can, then good for you, would you like to take it off my hands in that case? Please? Okay well, I guess I better finally explain why I want this damn thing out of here. I’ve already ostracized myself at work trying to get people to take it, as well as trying to explain what makes me hate the thing, so what harm will come from making a bunch of internet strangers think I’m creepy or crazy?
The black and white of it is that every time this thing grows a half a foot, every time another root plants itself in the ground, every time another one of those little blue flower buds appears on it, something changes. About the world we live in. About our history. About how we live day to day. And no one seems to notice any of the changes except for me. Today in fact, I almost got into a fatal car crash after I woke up and took note of a new flower bud growing on the side of it facing my house. If you put a Bible in front of me and made me swear to God that I was going to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth I would swear on that, my life, and my late mother’s grave that I grew up knowing that Americans in all 50 states drive on the left side of the road.
I know you’re probably laughing at me. Because that’s what the person I almost ran into did when I told them. They wanted to know if I was British or something, and I said no I was born and raised in Northern California all my life. The closest I’ve ever even been to a foreign country is San Diego. But when I pulled over after that scare and looked it up on my phone, there it was. Americans drive on the right side of the road and pretty much always have. It’s just so… jarring. I have vivid memories of me death gripping the wheel to my mom’s Wrangler for the first time in my life, with her in the passenger seat teaching me the rules of the road for the first time. And I remember very clearly her telling me that no matter where I go in the United States or Canada, if I ever did that is, I would be on the left side of the road the entire time.
And I remember everyone else driving on the left side too. I remember them doing it yesterday. And now, everyone’s acting like it’s actually been this other way the entire time and that I’m somehow just noticing it. But I’m not “just noticing” it. It changed without warning me, to my abject frustration. This is what my life has been like since I planted it. I remember when it first sprouted. When I first started noticing the changes. The very first one I encountered were the changes made to the American flag. Again, swearing to God, on my own life, and on my late mother’s grave, I can attest that the American flag has always had 13, red and white, diagonal stripes. Not horizontal. Diagonal.
Again, I remember vividly sitting Indian style around our 1st grade teacher as she taught us some of the most basic history of the Revolutionary War. Particularly when it came to the Betsy Ross story. I remember being told that, when Betsy Ross first showed George Washington her initial design for the flag that it did indeed have horizontal stripes just like the one I suppose all of you are familiar with. But at the last second, he had her change them to be diagonal because he wanted to convey that the United States did not intend to be an empire in which some states would be perceived to be dominating the others by being “on top”. Making the stripes diagonal, to him, avoided this undesired symbolism.
I remember it all so clearly, even the little kitschy cartoon drawings in our school books of him with Betsy Ross as she showed him the final design. I remember reading about it in middle and high school. Hell, I even remember writing a 13 page essay for US History I in college that dealt with the subject. The paper of course, along with any historical record or proof of this detailed memory (digital or otherwise), is nowhere I can find it. It’s as if God or something turned the whole world into one big Wikipedia article and began editing reality at random with no one reverting the changes.
If you don’t think I’m crazy yet, then maybe I’m just not trying hard enough. When I noticed the plant had grown its eighth root, I learned for the first time in my life that Richard Nixon resigned over the Watergate scandal and not for having been outed as having had a nearly decade long affair with both Marilyn Monroe and Jackie Kennedy at the same time as I thought I had been taught. I hadn’t even heard the term Watergate before that. In fact, I learned at the same exact time that apparently for decades since, the affix -gate had been attached to various other scandals and controversies as though it were a naming convention. Until that eighth root planted itself firmly in the ground, I had never once seen or heard of something like that before.
The day I noticed the very first flower to bloom on it, was the same day I found out there’s this little place near Long Island and New Jersey you may have heard of called New York City. You see, to me, that place has always been (and always will be in my mind as I cling onto what I know to be the truth) New Ithaca. Frank Sinatra’s famous song that is played every year on New Year’s Eve, has always been about the great city of New Ithaca, the Big Apple. The changes are just so weird and particular too. The whole general history of that city and state has remains the same though (at least to me), being that it was founded by the Dutch but was taken by the British and renamed before becoming a part of the United States. Only, instead the place was previously named New North Brabant whereas I suppose you have always known that New York used to be New Amsterdam.
There’s even a song about that bit of trivia, I learned. Catchy, and also cringe inducing for someone like me going through what I’m going through.
Actually the overwhelming bulk of changes have had to do with place names. Again growing up, I had it beaten into my brain that in 1492 Columbus sailed the Pacific blue. You heard that right. The vast puddle you probably call the Atlantic Ocean has always been the Pacific to me. And vice versa. Nebraska was a name I had not ever heard of before I measured another half foot in that damn thing’s already enormous length. To me that place was called the State of Fillmore. If before I measured it to be at 3 feet, you had asked me to point out Paris on a map, I would have stared at you blankly until I realized you probably meant to say Degaulleville which was built just northeast of the ruins of the ill-fated City of Lights after it was used as a testing ground for Germany’s most devastating weapon of WWII - the nuclear bomb.
Apparently in this new world the plant has created for me, it is our country that has the dubious honor of being the first military in the world to use nuclear weapons in an actual war.
And the list of changes I have just goes on and on like that. I’m not going to waste time spelling them all out for you. I’m sure that should be enough for you to at least hear me out or dismiss me as having had a break with reality. All I want now is this thing in my backyard, and these seeds to boot, out of here. Like I said in the beginning, I’d throw it away, but now that I suspect there’s some sort of link between it and all these changes being made, I worry what it could do to me if I yanked it out of the ground and chucked it into a dumpster. Degaulleville, Fillmore, etc. were erased by this thing. I could be too, if I made it mad enough.
There’s another part of me, a selfish part, that hopes if someone else takes it they can be the ones to have all these changes happen to instead. They can be the ones to watch desperately as what you once knew to be true, to be there, to be real, is all ground up and thrown away like it was nothing to bend your reality and leave you as the only one aware of it. I want that to happen to someone else instead of me. I want to be the one who’s oblivious to the changes made in the fabric and window dressings of reality. I want to be the one who reads the complaints and desperate cries of someone like me, and calls them crazy. I want want want that.
There’s another, tinier part of me, that naively hopes once I can leave this thing with someone else, it will change reality again but this time for the better. For the better, for me. Maybe once it starts affecting someone else adversely, it can change reality one more time to make my mom come back. To come back in a way that would make me forget she was ever gone. And then maybe I can go home, go back to the life I was used to living. But I know at the same time, there’s absolutely no reason it would do something nice like that for me.
Hell, if anything, it could decide to make things in reality, history, etc. worse for everyone including me. Like let me think… Okay for example, remember back in 1999 when everyone was afraid of the Y2K bug, but then it turned out to not be such a catastrophic ordeal as people were predicting? That damn plant could change things to make it so that Y2K’s catastrophic potential was fulfilled. Or wait, here’s a more recent example - remember like three or so years ago when there was that weird disease in China all the schools and governments got freaked out about for two weeks, warning about having to do lockdowns and stuff like that only for the Chinese government to successfully contain it before it could leave its shores?
I’d imagine the plant could change that history as well. And it’s not like I want any of that to happen, it’s just that I have little to no control over whether or not it will. And I just want to be free from being the only one to know it’s all happening. To notice it everyday. To have your heart and brain scratched at and tortured by it when you do.
So please, someone, anyone out there who can and is willing to take this thing off my hands knowing full well what it is - just DM me. I’ll give it to you at no charge or expense to you. I’ll even dig it out of the ground and drive to where you are (if you’re on the island that is) so you don’t have to get up and go anywhere. If you’re located somewhere else I’ll happily volunteer to pay all the associated shipping costs at my own expense as well in order to get it to you.
You’ll be my knight in shining armor if you do.
UPDATE: I am no longer in need of anyone to take this thing and these seeds off my hands. Thank you to the person that DMed me after I posted this. I got your email confirming that it safely arrived at your address as well. Also, glad to hear it’s grown another root. By glad, I mean that I am glad to know that it has grown yet again but this time I haven’t noticed anything changing. You have no idea what you’ve done to help salvage my sanity. Bless you.

I've tried selling this thing for weeks now on Facebook Marketplace, eventually at just 1 cent because I just genuinely want it out of my hair. And I cannot find any takers. I want someone to just take it instead of throwing it out because honestly, I'm deeply nervous about what would happen if I did. But if this advertisement proves to be just as fruitless, I will do it despite my nervousness because my mind just can't take this anymore otherwise I'm afraid I'm going to have a psychological break with reality and need to be sedated.
I grew up originally in Northern California near Mt. Shasta, and four years ago I moved to the Big Island of Hawaii after I got a new job working for the university located in Hilo as an adjunct. The search for a place to rent where I could garden in the backyard took a while, but the wait was worth it. Gardening is like comfort food for my soul, and always has been ever since I was a little girl. My mom brought me up doing it, and I took to it immediately when I was just 3 or 4 she always liked to remind me.
I suppose the reason I wanted to leave California was the fact that she wasn't there anymore, that the last piece or vestige of my family was gone and I was all that was left of the life we used to have out there. I remember the day everything was packed up for the movers and ready to go, I walked outside to wait for a friend to pick me up to take me to the airport. As I sat there on my porch, I saw an elderly man walking in front of my front yard. It was an old friend of my mom's from the neighborhood. He had been very kind to me at her funeral as he had just lost his wife himself. We both waved at each other and I got up to chat with him one last time.
As it turned out, he was there to give me a going away present. It was a batch of strange seeds in a small sack. Some were colored burgundy, others indigo, and still others ivory with fascinating patterns on them. In total, there were 19 by my count. He said that before his wife passed away, she had originally intended to give them to my mom. Apparently, during one of their hiking trips around the mountain, the two of them kept stopping to see if someone was following them. Every time they would, some tree would rustle or a bush would make a quick, sharp noise indicating some sort of disturbance. Towards the end of their hike, they stopped one final time only for them to turn around and notice that someone had left this dingy little sack of seeds on a rotted out tree stump they had just passed. In other words, there was no question at that point that they had been followed.
For what reason? He couldn't say, though obviously the implication was that whoever it was wanted them to have these seeds. His wife died soon after that, before she could pass them along to my mother. He said he was hesitant to part with them after she died, but felt extremely guilty having waited too long to give them to my mom. Now that I was heading to Hawaii, he thought he ought to just give them to me instead of continuing to keep them. Other than that, he told me to be very careful with them, to specifically pour them out into the ground from the sack instead of touching them myself. And I wondered why. Like it's such an oddly specific thing to bring up about them.
Regardless.
I took them gratefully and thanked him for the gift and said that my mother would have loved them. Now, I'm not so sure she would have.
It was only a week or so after I had finally unpacked everything in my new place that I decided to garden again. And the first thing I planted, of course, were the seeds once meant for my mom. In memory of her. It was only one I put in the ground because honestly I wasn’t exactly sure how big this thing was going to grow to be. I wasn’t even sure what exactly this thing was even going to grow to be either. Turns out, it’s a vegetable… of some kind. I think. It’s almost like a yam? Like with the same texture and everything but with bright orange skin… and fur in strange places? Also, another thing, it’s like a yam but at the time of writing this it has most definitely grown beyond the size of a typical yam. Basically it’ll increase in size every week or so by a half a foot by my measure. Also, every time it grows by that much, another bulbous root pops out and burrows itself beneath.
And oh yeah there are little blue flowers (or what I guess you could call flowers) growing out of little nooks and crannies and just random spots all over. I’m not sure what to say. I have yet to identify it. If one of you reading this can, then good for you, would you like to take it off my hands in that case? Please? Okay well, I guess I better finally explain why I want this damn thing out of here. I’ve already ostracized myself at work trying to get people to take it, as well as trying to explain what makes me hate the thing, so what harm will come from making a bunch of internet strangers think I’m creepy or crazy?
The black and white of it is that every time this thing grows a half a foot, every time another root plants itself in the ground, every time another one of those little blue flower buds appears on it, something changes. About the world we live in. About our history. About how we live day to day. And no one seems to notice any of the changes except for me. Today in fact, I almost got into a fatal car crash after I woke up and took note of a new flower bud growing on the side of it facing my house. If you put a Bible in front of me and made me swear to God that I was going to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth I would swear on that, my life, and my late mother’s grave that I grew up knowing that Americans in all 50 states drive on the left side of the road.
I know you’re probably laughing at me. Because that’s what the person I almost ran into did when I told them. They wanted to know if I was British or something, and I said no I was born and raised in Northern California all my life. The closest I’ve ever even been to a foreign country is San Diego. But when I pulled over after that scare and looked it up on my phone, there it was. Americans drive on the right side of the road and pretty much always have. It’s just so… jarring. I have vivid memories of me death gripping the wheel to my mom’s Wrangler for the first time in my life, with her in the passenger seat teaching me the rules of the road for the first time. And I remember very clearly her telling me that no matter where I go in the United States or Canada, if I ever did that is, I would be on the left side of the road the entire time.
And I remember everyone else driving on the left side too. I remember them doing it yesterday. And now, everyone’s acting like it’s actually been this other way the entire time and that I’m somehow just noticing it. But I’m not “just noticing” it. It changed without warning me, to my abject frustration. This is what my life has been like since I planted it. I remember when it first sprouted. When I first started noticing the changes. The very first one I encountered were the changes made to the American flag. Again, swearing to God, on my own life, and on my late mother’s grave, I can attest that the American flag has always had 13, red and white, diagonal stripes. Not horizontal. Diagonal.
Again, I remember vividly sitting Indian style around our 1st grade teacher as she taught us some of the most basic history of the Revolutionary War. Particularly when it came to the Betsy Ross story. I remember being told that, when Betsy Ross first showed George Washington her initial design for the flag that it did indeed have horizontal stripes just like the one I suppose all of you are familiar with. But at the last second, he had her change them to be diagonal because he wanted to convey that the United States did not intend to be an empire in which some states would be perceived to be dominating the others by being “on top”. Making the stripes diagonal, to him, avoided this undesired symbolism.
I remember it all so clearly, even the little kitschy cartoon drawings in our school books of him with Betsy Ross as she showed him the final design. I remember reading about it in middle and high school. Hell, I even remember writing a 13 page essay for US History I in college that dealt with the subject. The paper of course, along with any historical record or proof of this detailed memory (digital or otherwise), is nowhere I can find it. It’s as if God or something turned the whole world into one big Wikipedia article and began editing reality at random with no one reverting the changes.
If you don’t think I’m crazy yet, then maybe I’m just not trying hard enough. When I noticed the plant had grown its eighth root, I learned for the first time in my life that Richard Nixon resigned over the Watergate scandal and not for having been outed as having had a nearly decade long affair with both Marilyn Monroe and Jackie Kennedy at the same time as I thought I had been taught. I hadn’t even heard the term Watergate before that. In fact, I learned at the same exact time that apparently for decades since, the affix -gate had been attached to various other scandals and controversies as though it were a naming convention. Until that eighth root planted itself firmly in the ground, I had never once seen or heard of something like that before.
The day I noticed the very first flower to bloom on it, was the same day I found out there’s this little place near Long Island and New Jersey you may have heard of called New York City. You see, to me, that place has always been (and always will be in my mind as I cling onto what I know to be the truth) New Ithaca. Frank Sinatra’s famous song that is played every year on New Year’s Eve, has always been about the great city of New Ithaca, the Big Apple. The changes are just so weird and particular too. The whole general history of that city and state has remains the same though (at least to me), being that it was founded by the Dutch but was taken by the British and renamed before becoming a part of the United States. Only, instead the place was previously named New North Brabant whereas I suppose you have always known that New York used to be New Amsterdam.
There’s even a song about that bit of trivia, I learned. Catchy, and also cringe inducing for someone like me going through what I’m going through.
Actually the overwhelming bulk of changes have had to do with place names. Again growing up, I had it beaten into my brain that in 1492 Columbus sailed the Pacific blue. You heard that right. The vast puddle you probably call the Atlantic Ocean has always been the Pacific to me. And vice versa. Nebraska was a name I had not ever heard of before I measured another half foot in that damn thing’s already enormous length. To me that place was called the State of Fillmore. If before I measured it to be at 3 feet, you had asked me to point out Paris on a map, I would have stared at you blankly until I realized you probably meant to say Degaulleville which was built just northeast of the ruins of the ill-fated City of Lights after it was used as a testing ground for Germany’s most devastating weapon of WWII - the nuclear bomb.
Apparently in this new world the plant has created for me, it is our country that has the dubious honor of being the first military in the world to use nuclear weapons in an actual war.
And the list of changes I have just goes on and on like that. I’m not going to waste time spelling them all out for you. I’m sure that should be enough for you to at least hear me out or dismiss me as having had a break with reality. All I want now is this thing in my backyard, and these seeds to boot, out of here. Like I said in the beginning, I’d throw it away, but now that I suspect there’s some sort of link between it and all these changes being made, I worry what it could do to me if I yanked it out of the ground and chucked it into a dumpster. Degaulleville, Fillmore, etc. were erased by this thing. I could be too, if I made it mad enough.
There’s another part of me, a selfish part, that hopes if someone else takes it they can be the ones to have all these changes happen to instead. They can be the ones to watch desperately as what you once knew to be true, to be there, to be real, is all ground up and thrown away like it was nothing to bend your reality and leave you as the only one aware of it. I want that to happen to someone else instead of me. I want to be the one who’s oblivious to the changes made in the fabric and window dressings of reality. I want to be the one who reads the complaints and desperate cries of someone like me, and calls them crazy. I want want want that.
There’s another, tinier part of me, that naively hopes once I can leave this thing with someone else, it will change reality again but this time for the better. For the better, for me. Maybe once it starts affecting someone else adversely, it can change reality one more time to make my mom come back. To come back in a way that would make me forget she was ever gone. And then maybe I can go home, go back to the life I was used to living. But I know at the same time, there’s absolutely no reason it would do something nice like that for me.
Hell, if anything, it could decide to make things in reality, history, etc. worse for everyone including me. Like let me think… Okay for example, remember back in 1999 when everyone was afraid of the Y2K bug, but then it turned out to not be such a catastrophic ordeal as people were predicting? That damn plant could change things to make it so that Y2K’s catastrophic potential was fulfilled. Or wait, here’s a more recent example - remember like three or so years ago when there was that weird disease in China all the schools and governments got freaked out about for two weeks, warning about having to do lockdowns and stuff like that only for the Chinese government to successfully contain it before it could leave its shores?
I’d imagine the plant could change that history as well. And it’s not like I want any of that to happen, it’s just that I have little to no control over whether or not it will. And I just want to be free from being the only one to know it’s all happening. To notice it everyday. To have your heart and brain scratched at and tortured by it when you do.
So please, someone, anyone out there who can and is willing to take this thing off my hands knowing full well what it is - just DM me. I’ll give it to you at no charge or expense to you. I’ll even dig it out of the ground and drive to where you are (if you’re on the island that is) so you don’t have to get up and go anywhere. If you’re located somewhere else I’ll happily volunteer to pay all the associated shipping costs at my own expense as well in order to get it to you.
You’ll be my knight in shining armor if you do.
UPDATE: I am no longer in need of anyone to take this thing and these seeds off my hands. Thank you to the person that DMed me after I posted this. I got your email confirming that it safely arrived at your address as well. Also, glad to hear it’s grown another root. By glad, I mean that I am glad to know that it has grown yet again but this time I haven’t noticed anything changing. You have no idea what you’ve done to help salvage my sanity. Bless you.

See the previous posts: https://www.reddit.com/JurassicPark/comments/1419mpy/jurassic_world_the_hegemony_of_biosyn_dominion/ https://www.reddit.com/JurassicPark/comments/142b35e/jurassic_world_the_hegemony_of_biosyn_jwd_rewrite/

Act III - The Gathering of the Clouds

Mia Everett
Visually confirming Rainn's revelation, Victoria is shown in a cage inside Amelia Everett's lab, within Biosyn's Citadel. Mia does her best to comfort the scared and depressed Achillobator and her motivations are explored shortly after. It's revealed that due to her experience within the team who made the Indominus and the Indoraptor, Biosyn tasked her with reviving InGen's IBRIS program by breeding raptors with high obedience potential. However, none of the achillobators cloned by Biosyn proved to be trainable enough for the program's ambitions (even though they attempted to mimic Owen's experience by having keepers being there at the animals' birth), which displeased Dodgson and the other higher-ups, who are now favouring another research team, who focuses on a more intrusive way of controlling dinosaurs. Basically treated as a second-class researcher amidst a rather toxic work environment, Mia became desperate enough to hire poachers to capture Blue, which she intended to breed with their achillobators in order to finally have trainable individuals. As Victoria is not sexually mature, Mia is in front of a considerable setback and fears that Dodgson will pull the plug due to her lack of results, especially in this troubled period for Biosyn.
The tying noose
The next day, the intel collected by the UN agents (people involved in the Black Market, Biosyn's connections with it) are sent to the nearby countries, including Italy, where an arrest warrant is launched against Kayla.
On his side, Isaac Gibbon is contacted by Bigelow who tells him about the debacle of their mission in Malta, saying that Claire and Owen saved the grey guards from disaster. He orders her to stay in Italy for the moment and wait for new orders. Shortly receives, he receives a candidate for a desk job in the DSD: It's Franklin. Gibbon tells Franklin he heard about his bravery during the 2019 incidents and his past connection with InGen (Before the DPG, Franklin worked for it as an IT Technician), before asking questions about Claire as he is aware that she collaborated with him not only on some occasions in the past few years but also in the 2019 Costa Rican incident, where Franklin was the couple's companion while they were running from InGen's agents and the authorities.
Dubrovnik
The inhabitants and tourists of the Croatian seaside city of Dubrovnik are surprised when a Biosyn Quetzalcoatlus descends upon the old town and starts attacking people. As a joke similar to one in TLW with the Japanese businessman and his reference to Godzilla, some extra could yell in Valyrian "I left Westeros because of this!" or "By the Seven, not again!" (Dubrovnik was one of Game of Thrones' filming location).
Ramsay's email
In a manner similar to the Hawaii attack scene in Gareth Edwards' Godzilla, the Dubrovnik scene cuts just as the Quetzal swoops on the bystanders and we are now in the bar of Biosyn's employee village. Wu is watching the news of the Dubrovnik attack on the TV (there is even a declaration from Zoe Murdoch, in which she denies the pterosaur came from Auronzo's Sanctuary and was probably created by a rival company who somehow put their hands upon Biosyn Quetzalcoatlus DNA. In the bar, someone whisper that one of their Quetzals did escaped from the valley thanks to the temporary deactivation of the invisible fence system and that Dodgson has launched an investigation to know who's responsible) when he receives a mysterious email from Ramsay, which includes the name of some woman. Wu search it on the internet and ends up on IMDB where he discovers that the adult "Charlotte" on the videos is actually an actress who lives in London.
Arrest
In Rome, early in the morning, Kayla is arrested in her flat by the police as she is accused of illegal smuggling.
Viscontini
Following all the incidents in the Alps, the clash in the Sabine Hills and the recent Dubrovnik attack, people gets pissed at Biosyn and protests occur in several locations, including Rome. In the Italian Ministry of the Interior, Viscontini has an argument with Pazzi, declaring that they need to take severe actions against Biosyn but the minister retorts that taking large-scale actions against the corporation might trigger a whole deal of undesirable consequences, including deteriorating US-Italian relations due to the close ties between Biosyn and the US government. He won't risk that just because of some rumours, weak proof and small incidents. Viscontini retorts that soon, Biosyn might have an angry mob showing at its gates with the goal of driving it out of Italy.
Following Vuillier's instructions, Claire, Owen, Nyamu and Dougal leave Malta the same day and fly to the Eternal City, where they have to meet Viscontini in the AISI headquarters. There, they have a video call with Vuillier. He and Viscontini wants to send the trio of WDMC agents to Auronzo Valley so they can infiltrate Biosyn's facility, find compromising information and transmit them to the Italian authorities, hoping to finally convince Pazzi and the rest of the government to take action against Biosyn. However, one of the agents points out that they will need an entrance ticket as one doesn't simply walk into Auronzo, since the borders of Biosyn's lands are guarded and monitored while some people disappeared after going too close from the Sanctuary (anti-Biosyn activists, reckless adventurers, Grendel Corporation's spies, others from the AISI's and Austrian government). Viscontini declare they might have that ticket.
We cut to Kayla in her prison cell. The guard announces she has visit and she is brought to a room where Viscontini and Dougal waits for her. The head of the AISI and the WDMC agent then negotiate with her: In exchange for her freedom, she will bring Dougal, Claire and Owen to Biosyn's Sanctuary. However, Viscontini precise he'll have her hunted down if she ever betrays them.
Kayla raises the fact that she can't show up at Auronzo like this and needs a motive. Viscontini and Dougal then talk about the animals seized in Malta's black market.
Theo's Mission
That day, Wu summons Theo, explain the whole issue with the fake Charlotte and ask him to go to London, find the actress and question her about the videos so they can have proofs to show Maisie, who started to really become insufferable because of Dodgson's bad influence (in that part of the story, one of the few scenes where she's likeable is one where she and Drummond bonds over the common passion for dinosaurs). The ex-mercenary soon leaves Auronzo, taking a bus for Venice in the nearest village while Wu explains to Pellegrino and Dodgson that Theo had urgent family matters to deal with in the UK.
Leaving San Francisco
Desiring to supervise the Dolomites Crisis more closely, Vuillier fly to Italy.
Nine containers
As evidence of Biosyn's possible connections to the Maltese black market has been discussed on the news, Dodgson knows it's a matter of time before Vuillier, the Italians or the Austrians send people in Auronzo and expose Biosyn's misdeeds.
We then follow Pellegrino's POV as she oversees the exit of nine large mysterious containers from the Citadel and their departure from the airstrip just outside the valley. One of her subordinates asks what's inside and she answers that she has no idea, with Dodgson only giving her a series of instructions. They watch the containers being flown abroad.
The following day, Pellegrino speak about it to Wu and other employees with anti-Dodgson sentiments like Drummond. She notices that Wu is uncomfortable as they talk about it and realize he must be hiding something. Ramsay, who just arrived from the US in preparation for a big corporate event in the Citadel, almost surprise their discussion. As they're not sure if they can trust him or not, they pretend it's nothing. Wu then phones Theo and asks him about his secret mission's progress.
London
In London, Theo finds the actress from the videos and initially posing as a reporter, filming her in an interview, he then ask her questions about the videos and after some hesitations, she concedes to give him answers and reveals among other things that the shooting occurred a few months ago in some local warehouse, that the director of those videos is none other than Colin Trevorrow (who, desperate for a job after the debacle of the Jurassic World film, accepted to participate to that project, oblivious that Biosyn was behind it since a dummy company took care of the production).
AISI
Vuillier arrives in Rome and meets with his agents, Nyamu and Viscontini in one of the AISI headquarters' conference rooms, where a map of Auronzo Valley and its surroundings has been laid. Kayla is also there and offscreen, our characters talk about the plan.
At the end of the meeting, everyone but Vuillier and Viscontini leave the room. Both have a secret conversation during which the Italian say that the Grey Guard's Mediterranean Company, supported by the Austrians and secretly by him (as he fears that Biosyn has informers within the Italian government), are deployed in one of the villages near Auronzo, and is supposed to act as a Plan B should the Claire-Owen-Dougal trio fail, by taking a secret path through an old mine and a mountain pass before breaking into Biosyn's citadel. The WDMC agents don't know that and when Vuillier ask why, Viscontini answers that it's better that way (should the agents be captured ant tortured, they won't tell Biosyn that there is a second team) and that the secret path isn't safer as one of his spy was killed by some creature after taking it and arriving in sight of the valley. He thinks that a small dozen of grey guards have better chances surviving the pass' guardian(s) than three civilian agents.
To the Dolomites
The next day, in the middle of the morning, Kayla is preparing her plane in some airstrip near Rome and the seized creature from the black market is loaded in the hold (I have no idea which species to choose). Equipped by the Italians, Claire, Owen and Dougal say farewell to Vuillier, Nyamu and Viscontini. The Frenchman tells Claire that it's time to unleash the She-wolf upon Dodgson but Claire correct him by saying "Not the She-wolf. The Dragon." (in this AU, she has a particular connection with the dragon-like Indominus), implying she'll get the mission done whatever it takes. He and the other two men wish them good luck and the trio of WDMC agents climb aboard the plane. They soon take off.
Biosyn's aerial defense
Kayla's plane arrives in sight of the mountains which delimit Biosyn's Sanctuary. Informed of their mission by Vuillier and Viscontini, one of the grey guards is watching the plane through his binoculars as it passes over the village where they are staying.
Kayla is soon contacted by the Citadel's control room as they detected the aircraft on their radars and they ask her why she's coming. The pilot answer that she collected an animal which might interest them (she told the WDMC agents and the Italians that Biosyn doesn't have this particular species in their Sanctuary) and ask to land on their airstrip. While the Biosyn employees discuss, the plane is about to enter Auronzo Valley by the east, as that part of the sanctuary is the furthest from most of the buildings (while the airstrip is in the northernmost parts of Biosyn's lands, beyond the mountains with the frozen dam lake) and thus where Claire, Owen and Dougal has the best chances of landing unnoticed. The trio of agents take their parachutes and prepare to jump, but at the same time, Dodgson, who heard that Kayla was arrested by the authorities just a few days ago, fears that her plane is a Trojan horse and decides to activate the valley's "aerial defense". On the screen of one of the room's monitors, we see a group of dots heading straight towards the plane. It's actually a group of pteranodons, from the same toothed variant as those who appeared in Jurassic Park 3 (there is even at least one black male identical to the scrapped one from Johnston's film), and they just collide with the plane, crashing against the cockpit and getting turned to shred by the rotors' blades, damaging the plane (the scene is partly inspired by a cutscene from the Ninth Mission of Paraworld's campaign). Owen wonder why those pteranodons behave in a suicidal manner. Suddenly, the pteranodons retreat and as their window is shrinking, the agents know they have to jump now (they've reached the middle of the valley and their trajectory deviated northwards, towards the mountain dam). Claire jumps first but as Owen is about to jump in his turn, the plane is attacked by a Quetzalcoatlus and the Raptor Whisperer sees another and a few pteranodons chasing her fiancée, whose parachute opened. Claire shakes the pterosaurs off by disappearing into the valley's dense forest. As they will be grabbed by the attacking pterosaurs as soon as they leave the aircraft, Owen, Dougal and Kayla stay inside it and brace for the crash. The plane crashes down at the surface of the frozen lake by the mountain dam in the northern part of the valley.
Back in Rome, Vuillier, Nyamu and Viscontini are worried as they heard the agents and the pterosaurs' screams (they had an open channel all that time with Kayla's plane). They hope the agents will survive this ordeal and activate the beacons they were given before their departure.
Note: The fate of the animal they took with them is still unclear for me. It really depends on the chosen species. If it's something large and potentially dangerous, Kayla would probably want to drop it in the valley in order to have a lighter plane and not deal with it after crashing. But if it's a creature about the size of a small dog for example, they could free it as they leave the wreckage.
Gigantoraptor
We then cut to Claire hanging in the trees but instead of a Therizinosaurus (which already appeared in TRQ. Moreover, Claire had a small arc with this species in that story), she is threatened by a Gigantoraptor. The scene plays out much like the Theri scene from Trevorrow's version, with Claire hiding in a pond etc.. Once the Gigantoraptor walks away, Claire gets out of the pond and sees the fumes from the plane's crash in the distance, behind the mountain dam.
The dam lake
Before it sinks in the lake, Owen, Dougal and Kayla leave her plane and step on the ice. Under it, they notice a large shadow and know they better move away from the lake. They notice a ladder by the dam but as they head towards it, a Quetzalcoatlus or a Pteranodon lands on their way. They step back, moving towards an opening on the lake's surface. Suddenly, a giant 9-meters long temnospondyl (based upon an unnamed and fragmentary genus from Lesotho) burst out the water, almost killing one of the characters. Ensue a scene where our three protagonists have to evade both the pterosaur and the amphibian. The pterosaur ends up being dragged underwater by the temnospondyl but other pterosaurs arrive and to escape them, our trio climbs on the dam and rushes to its elevator, going down in the valley. Down at the dam's base, they notice it's dilapidated and Kayla tell her two companions that Biosyn sell some of its power to the nearest villages.
Note: The main doubt I have about this scene is having a temnospondyl living in the icy water of a mountain lake. It might be too much of a stretch so if you think it's not realistic at all, it will be scrapped from the scene (and perhaps be replaced by a juvenile Baryonyx or something like this, an animal which could be also the one our characters brought with them in the plane.
Plan B
Since the agents lost their beacons during the pterosaurs' attack and the crash, they couldn't tell Rome that they were still alive. Vuillier and Viscontini fear the worst and send a message to Laurenzo Cesare.
Droppings
Meanwhile, Claire started walking towards the dam, hoping to find her companions on the way if they made it out alive from the crash. When she hears a racket in the woods, she hides and a Biosyn tyrannosaur arrives. But it's not on a hunting mode and instead, it just leaves some droppings on a log near Claire's hiding place. After the predator leaves, she approaches the log and smears her face with the droppings, remembering her "Walk in the Park" with Owen when they searched her nephews during the Fall of Jurassic World (the droppings hide her smell, dissuading the other animals to investigate her).
Argument
An argument bursts out between Owen, Dougal and Kayla while they're walking south. The first wants to find his fiancée, the second says that their mission is more important, and Kayla is mad at both men since she lost her plane (and livelihood) because of the WDMC's mission. And unsure about her intentions, the two men distrust her but she tries to reassure them by saying that Biosyn can fuck off since they are also responsible for destroying her plane.
However, the Sanctuary's denizens remind them that they better be united or else it will be the failure of their quest.
At some distance, in the middle of the fog, they see the recognizable silhouette of a sauropod, that of an Argentinosaurus (the species was seen in the distance and mentioned earlier in the story. Instead of Argentinosaurus, it could also be another large titanosaur). However, this herbivore has the particularity of having a symbiotic relation with some small carnivore species within Biosyn Sanctuary (I'm more thinking about a pterosaur or a flying/semi-arboreal theropod than a strictly ground-dwelling predator. For now, the baboon-sized Variraptor is my candidate), with the Argentinosaurus letting those carnivores eat its parasites and the insects flying around it while the carnivores will let out an alarm call shall a large predator approach. It could be illustrated in a scene where an Acrocanthosaurus (the one from the Drive-in scene) is spotted by the carnivores as it passes by. The Argentinosaurus turns to face the larger predator, adopt a defensive posture, and as the acro hasn't yet moved, the smaller carnivores take off from the sauropod and flies straight to the acro's head. Harassed by those creatures, the Acrocanthosaurus retreats. Thus, if those small carnivores (which we'll call the Argentinosaurus' suite) are brave enough to attack a megatheropod, our three protagonists know they're not safe and that they better move away.
The Sanctuary's true nature
While still heading north, Claire's path crosses that of a bull Shantungosaurus. She move out of his way and stay still. She and the audience recognize the animal as he was already in the JW rewrite and TRQ (in the first story, he gained some scars after a fight with a few Metriacanthosaurus), where he was a secondary "character" (and a threat in a few scenes). Both have a peaceful scene where they make eye contact but that quiet moment is shattered when a gunshot resounds in the forest and the hadrosaur flees, badly wounded. Claire hides and in the distance, she sees a hunter, accompanied by a couple of Biosyn security guards and another employee which she presume is some sort of supervisohunting guide. Watching how the hunter is dressed and how he behave in the wild, she knows he's not a professional hunter but just a rich hobbyist and then realizes the Sanctuary's true nature: It's a hunting reserve. As the Shantungosaurus escaped them, the hunter express his discontentment at the guide, which promise to find him another quarry. They leave and following the blood trail left by the hadrosaur, Claire finds him by a stream. His wounds are too grievous and he's too weak to lash out at Claire, who kneels by his head, trying to comfort him in his last moments, up until his last breath. Watching another of her former park's animals dying fills Claire with not only grief, but also anger. She change her plans and heads back south instead of continuing northward, following the hunting party's track.
Note: It doesn't necessarily have to be a Shantungosaurus in the role of the animal shot by the hunters, but it have to be a recognizable animal from the previous installments for emotional impact and Claire's development (another candidate could be the Therizinosaurus from TRQ)
She later finds another hunting party. One of its members, a Biosyn guard, pulls out an item she recognize: a raptor resonating chamber. The guard use it like a bird call and soon, an Achillobator, arrive, believing it heard one of its kind. The poor animal is shot by the hunters, who scream in satisfaction before taking a picture with their quarry. They then brings it to the Biosyn vehicle waiting nearby but before they leave (after having a short conversation during they mention that another team captured the rex and is bringing it the paddocks), Claire deliberately attract the attention of one of the guards, the same one which used the resonating chamber, and he say to his companions he won't be long. He move away from the road and deeper in the woods, he fall into Claire's ambush. She kill him, loot some of his equipment (including the resonating chamber), hide his body and leave. Worried for his colleague, the other guard with the hunters orders the guide to drive them back to the lodge, and search his friend. But he too is murdered by Claire, who takes a small metallic box on him. Activating the box, she realize it's a sonic weapon she has seen before, in the hands of InGen Security's elite troops during the fall of Isla Nublar (it's like a weaponized version of the box Dodgson and his companions have in Crichton's TLW). She turns it off, take it with her and follows the hunters vehicle's tracks on the road, towards the lodge.
However, Claire ignores she's being watched, and not by human eyes...
Over hill
Cesare and his men leave their accommodation and head for the frontiers of Biosyn's lands. Leaving their vehicles near a ruined fort, the grey guards start their trek while the sun is setting behind the mountains ahead of them.
A bed in the trees
As walking through the valley at night would be too dangerous, Owen, Dougal and Kayla decide to find a resting place and climb in a tree. From it, they have a panorama on a nearby lake and notice they are approximately halfway between the dam and the Citadel. At this moment, we also have peaceful scenes with the valley's denizens at dusk (Pelecanimimus fishing in the lake, herbivores drinking nearby, the same Spinosaurus from the report at the beginning peacefully sitting on the bank like an oversized duck...).
Theo's peace
In the evening, just a few hours before his flight to Venice, Theo also passes by his former home, which he left years ago before joining Ken Wheatley's mercenary company. His ex-wife still lives here and noticing that she started a new life with another man and seems happy, he walks away in peace, leaving behind him the last picture he had of himself and her (earlier in the story, Theo is seen looking at said picture).
The secret path
Back in Italy, the grey guards find the entrance of an old mine and enter it, taking the path that will allow them to pass under the limits of Biosyn's lands.
Mercenaries
Mercenary troops land in Biosyn's airstrip and their leader is brought to the Citadel. He has a discussion with Dodgson behind closed doors.
Foes... or allies?
A few hours after nightfall, Claire finally finds a large old chalet with typical Tyrolean architecture: The Hunting Lodge (it's implied that it was built way before Biosyn bought those lands, when the area was still part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, before WWI). Claire remarks it's surrounded by an invisible fence (identical to the one from Jurassic World Evolution 2's Biosyn DLC) which prevents the animals from getting too close. Aware that the lodge wouldn't be a shelter for her and that its occupants probably outnumber her, she turns away from it, continuing to wander in the woods. But just a few minutes later, she hears sound in the nearby bushes. Aware she might be hunted, she is ready to use the ultrasound box and fight for her life. A pack of Achillobators shows up, menacingly walking towards her. At the same time, it starts to rain.
Claire first thinks of using the box and running away while the predators would be bothered by the sound but she knows it will be useless in the long run as they could track her all across the Sanctuary. She then remembers the reports she read earlier in the story, and especially that of the 2001 incident on Sorna, where Alan Grant and his companions walked out alive and unharmed from a close encounter with raptors.
In dire straits, she makes up a desperate plan and carefully, she pulls out the resonating chamber she stole from the Biosyn guards. She uses it and due to their bad experience in the sanctuary with the resonating chambers' usual users, the raptors get agitated but their pack leader tells them to calm down as Claire doesn't seem to be a Biosyn guard or a hunter. The pack leader walks alone towards Claire and sniffs the dried blood on her hands and clothes, realizing it belongs to other humans. Nothing happens for a moment and then the pack leader lets out a bark. Behind Claire, two raptors move aside. Slowly walking backwards, watching carefully the raptors' moves, Claire exits the circle made by the surrounding predators and continues doing so until she's at a respectable distance. At the beginning, the raptors just watch her but as she's heading towards the Hunting Lodge, she hears them following her. However, she is aware that they would have already pounced on her if they wanted to eat her and knows that they're more intrigued. Meanwhile, the rain intensifies (there could also be a storm).
Claire reaches the invisible fence, crosses it, and searches for its power source. But as she's sabotaging it, the Lodge caretaker (a gnarly-looking old local man) spots her and frightened by her look, runs away towards the building. She is forced to catch him and, after a short struggle, kill him with her knife before he can raise the alarm. After showing some trouble due to killing a probable innocent, she resumes her sabotage and the fence is deactivated. The raptors cross it and see Claire entering the lodge. Near its entrance, she finds a sword hanging on the wall as a decorative element and noticing it's still sharp, she takes it along with its sheath and heads for the rooms. Behind her, the raptors open the door and silently enter in the lodge. In the hallway which leads to the rooms, Claire stays still when the raptors walk past her as they head to the rooms and grin as her audacious plan is working. Claire enters one of the rooms, raises her sword blade over a sleeping hunter and when the time comes, thrust it into his body. Meanwhile, the raptors open other doors and entering the rooms, they rush on the sleepers. Slaughter ensues and only those who locked up their doors have the time to wake up, grab a weapon and fight for their very survival. Some of the lodge's occupants offer some resistance in the lounge but there, Claire activates the sonic weapon she stole and an ear-piercing sharp sound comes from it. While the raptors back off behind her, their common enemies kneel and scream in pain and Claire (who put on some earplug) slashes their throats, deactivate the weapon, and let the raptors tear the hunters alive while she raids some items (stuff like snacks, water, a first-aid kit, a map...) and leave, disappearing in the woods.
A bit later, she finds a small cave whose entrance is high from the ground and rest in it, sleeping until mid-morning.
The mountain's pass
At the end of their night-long ascent, the grey guards arrive in a pass/cave where they found human bones, which they presume to be those of the AISI's spy Viscontini told them about, and the remains of a Biosyn drone. Soon after, they are attacked by the guardian animal(s) the corporation left there to kill any trespasser coming from that direction. (I haven't chosen any species yet). They manage to defeat it (or them) and dawn break out as they arrive at a vista point which overlooks the valley. The grey guards observe it, the eyes of Cesare stop on the Citadel for a moment, and they retreat back inside the mountain to rest a few hours before descending into the valley. They send a message to Vuillier and Viscontini, telling them that they're inside the Sanctuary.
Traces of a slaughter
During their early morning patrol, a security team discovers that a massacre occurred during the night in the Hunting Lodge. They find clues indicating that someone helped the raptors and participated in the killings. The control room check the Lodge CCTV footage and fear spreads like wildfire among the staff when they discover the culprit is a sinister-looking black-clad hooded woman. Seeing that one of the figure's hand is a prosthesis and that the other wear a silver ring with a red gem, they realize it's Claire and Dodgson pretty much start to crap his pants (partly because one of the hunters was a very wealthy and powerful foreign client whose disappearance won't go unnoticed). Since she made it out alive from the plane's crash, Dodgson fears that the other WDMC agents might have too. When asked about the slaughter itself, Dodgson orders his staff to cover it up for the moment, as he don't want to worry the board of directors who are set to arrive later that day for a big event he planned in the evening.
Theo's return
Theo returns to Auronzo and Wu, who just learned about Claire's presence in the valley, tells him that they must get Maisie out of the facility as soon as possible since disaster tends to follow Claire like a shadow.
Taking the gloves off
However, Maisie has meanwhile discovered that the videos were another lie, by recognizing one of the scientists from the video, who also work at the Citadel (and who didn't aged, even though the adult Charlotte's video was supposed to be taken fourteen years ago). Aware that the gentle method is no longer considerable, Dodgson decides to use the hard one and Doctor Lesser locks Maisie in a cell within her lab, to which Wu can't access. Lesser reveal that it wasn't Wu who told Dodgson that she was a clone but the spy he has among Lockwood Manor's employees, and that the only true part in the video was the one about the genetic disease: Charlotte did had it, just like her mother Elizabeth before that (she died in 1993 and it was because of her Lockwood and Hammond fell out), and had the car accident which took her life didn't happened, the disease would have killed her a few years later. As he wanted Maisie to have a long life, Benjamin Lockwood asked the scientists he hired (there is a whole subplot about what they became in TRQ) to cure it and they did find a way. As the scientists' notes were accidently destroyed, the solution is now within Maisie's body, and Dodgson wants it so he can put new drugs on the market.
Before it's too late, Wu and Theo, with Ramsay's help, start organizing Maisie's evasion. The geneticist mentions a secret trail from WWI in the northeastern mountains: It's their escape route. He then heads for his lab, planning something else.
Tracking Claire
Curious about Biosyn's movements around the Hunting Lodge, Owen, Dougal and Kayla investigate it after the departure of the security troops. They discover evidence of Claire's passage and Owen tries to follow her fiancée's tracks. Kayla and/or Dougal make comments about the slaughter of the hunters.
Bigelow's last chance
Isaac Gibbon gives Jessica Bigelow a new mission: Go to Auronzo and ensure the evacuation of Lewis Dodgson and Biosyn's most important research. The agent ask her boss why and he said that he just received news that Biosyn is compromised. He also precise that it's her last chance after the Malta fiasco. Bigelow leave her safe house in central Italy and goes north.
Shady preparations
Continuing south, Owen, Dougal and Kayla see mercenaries positioning some sort of moveable antenna on a ridge which overlooks the road which connects the Citadel to the valley's northern continue, as finding Claire and entering the Citadel is more urgent.
The gathering of the clouds
One of the control room's employees ask Dodgson to come. He shows him footage from the Biosyn lands's southern gate, near the employee village.
Before the gate, a group of Carabinieri stand, showing to the guards and the security cameras a search warrant: The government finally decided to act against Biosyn. But Dodgson refuses to open the gates for the Carabinieri and orders the mercenaries who arrived during the night to intimidate them. The Carabinieri move away from the gate, with their leader warning against the consequences of such an action. At a respectable distance from the gate, Vuillier, Viscontini and Nyamu watched the scene. Soon, other groups of Carabinieri are deployed along the other entrances to Biosyn's lands. The siege of Auronzo has started.
Hearing about the siege's situation, some employees leave their post and head for the metro (which connects the Citadel to the village. Another loop also connects the Citadel to the various facilities across the Sanctuary, including the seven towers and the dam), in order to go to the village and then hoping to be able to leave Biosyn's lands before things starts to get too ugly but Dodgson's has the metro's station locked and commands them to go back to their posts. Seeing their CEO starting to act like Hitler in his bunker, they are afraid.
​
End of Act III.
See you tomorrow for Act IV