Your damp, shaking hand holds out the ticket. The agent smiles--a real, human smile--and tells you to have a nice flight. You walk past them and get on the plane. Their eyes never leave you, but they don’t move. Apparently you’ve earned the right to get on the plane.

As you get into the cabin, you halt. There's a goblin in an empty seat. (An empty first-class seat--pretty bloody annoying.) It’s somehow wearing what looks like an expensive pinstriped suit, and the stupid flight attendant is handing him some wine.

In the pocket of the seat in front of you is a postcard showing Times Square. You slide it out and flip it over.

Rest and eat.This ain't finished yet.

Well, isn’t that great. You’d love to eat--if you had any friggin’ food.

This is just so stupid. What’s even the point of it? Goblins. Gremlins, or whatever they are. They’re bright Crayola green--they don’t even look realistic.

Dmitri appears in front of you. “Hi,” he says, but he’s talking to the guy in the middle seat beside you. “I have an exit row seat--would you mind switching so I can sit by my girlfriend?”

The guy is only too happy to switch to an exit row, and soon Dmitri is settled beside you.

“I’m not your girlfriend,” you say. How are you even going to explain this whole crazy debacle to your boyfriend?

Easy: you won’t. How could you? It’s unexplainable. You’ve become good at knowing which things not to bother Keith with, and this is definitely one of them.

“I know,” Dmitri said. “But I didn’t think he would switch if we were just friends.”

“Well, that’s really stupid.” You probably shouldn’t be taking this out on him, seeing as he rescued you and all, but you are hungry and exhausted and you know he’s about to ask a bunch of questions you can’t answer and you just want this stupid trip to be over already. “So the only good reason to sit beside someone is if you’re having sex with them? So what if we’re friends? Friends talk. Is having a conversation not a good enough reason to sit beside someone?”

“Clara,” he says. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. It just happened.” You explain what you can about the postcards and the goblins. You hand him the postcard, but he finds the handwriting impossible to read--which makes no sense, it’s sloppy, but not that sloppy.

“Do you think they’ll actually kill you?”

“Yes,” you say. “I do.”

He takes your hand.

Not long after, you fall asleep.You wake up to the stewardess’ voice.

“Miss Conner, here’s the meal you ordered for this flight.” She seems to be in a hurry, and pulls your tray out for you so she can set it down and attend to something else.

It appears to be a chicken salad sandwich and some chips. Which you definitely did not order.

You realize you’re nauseous, and incredibly hungry again.

Should you eat this incredibly sketchy food?
> You know what, whatever. Why the hell not.

You eat, and you immediately you feel better.

When it’s time to get off the plane, the goblin is already gone, just like all the other first-class passengers. A glass with a few traces of red wine is on the tray beside his seat.

You walk through JFK with Dmitri. He holds your hand, watching your face for any sign of them, but there are no goblins.

You get your luggage from baggage claim and turn toward the exit. Outside is a long line of taxis.

In front of the door is a huge goblin. Taller than you. His head is above the archway.

“There’s one there,” you say dully to Dmitri, pointing toward it.

His eyes follow your finger. He squints hard. “I think," he says slowly, "I see a...a shadow.”

There are about ten sets of doors to the taxi line, so you turn toward another one and start hurrying toward it. It probably won’t work, but hey, what do you have to lose?

It doesn’t move. “Go ahead.”

You turn, shocked. They’ve never spoken before.

“If you do, I’ll follow you. I’ll never kill you, but I’ll never stop following.”

Oh. Well, great. Fighting him seems like a losing proposition. Sure, he doesn’t look terribly fast or strong, but you aren’t either--and you’ve got skin, not hard, armor-like scales. Also, he's huge.

But you also can’t let him follow you around forever.

What should you do?

> You know what, this ends now. Fight him.

Okay, what will you fight him with?

You now have your heavy, hard-sided suitcase, with a large textbook and the statue you planned to give to Keith's parents inside. Despite its weight, you could probably get it over your head, and since it's already in your hand, speed would be on your side.

Nearby is a frail old lady carrying a long umbrella with a fairly pointy metal tip.

Also nearby is a large, heavy metal luggage cart, which you definitely couldn't lift over your head but might do some serious damage if used like a battering ram.


Your stomach starts to churn. There’s nothing magical or enchanted about this nausea--it’s identical to the last time you got food poisoning. You turn and hurl the contents of your stomach onto the grimy floor.

It smells. It smells like me, you think. Like my insides.

The sound of running.

You leap up, and vault over the counter almost effortlessly--only later you remember Dmitri’s hands under your ribs, propelling you--and run.

You only have to elude them for twenty minutes. Twenty stupid minutes is all that’s between you and being okay.

You see an opening in the crowd and dart through. Without your heavy bag you must be faster than they are, because the space between you and them is widening.

Should you keep running, or find a place to hide?
> You keep running.
A huge tour group walks in a slow line right in front of you. You shove past them, but not long afterward, the slap-slapping comes behind you. Teeth gnash your knee, and you fall.

A hard bite to your shoulder, and then the weight of the goblin is off of you, and you sit up in time to watch it careen into a moving walkway.  Dmitri stands above you.

“What,” he says, “was that? It looked like you were having a seizure. Except no one even saw you. I could barely see you.” He shakes his head, as if something has been fogging his vision.

“I’ll explain on the plane,” you say. Your shoulder is bleeding, but not too badly. “If I ever actually get on there.”

> You continue toward the gate.

They don’t move.

You keep walking, leg muscles braced, ready to stop and turn around.

Your damp, shaking hand holds out the ticket. The agent smiles--a real, human smile--and tells you to have a nice flight. You walk past them and get on the plane. Their eyes never leave you, but they don’t move. Apparently you’ve earned the right to get on the plane.

As you get into the cabin, you halt. There is one in an empty seat. (An empty first-class seat--pretty bloody annoying.) It’s somehow wearing what looks like an expensive pinstriped suit, and the stupid flight attendant is handing him some wine.

In the pocket of the seat in front of you is a postcard showing Times Square. You slide it out and flip it over.

Rest and eat. This ain't finished yet.

Well, isn’t that great. You’d love to eat--if you had any friggin’ food.

This is just so stupid. What’s even the point of it? Goblins. Gremlins, or whatever they are. They’re bright Crayola green--they don’t even look realistic.

Dmitri appears in front of you. “Hi,” he says, but he’s talking to the guy in the middle seat beside you. “I have an exit row seat--would you mind switching so I can sit by my girlfriend?”

The guy is only too happy to switch to an exit row, and soon Dmitri is settled beside you.

“I’m not your girlfriend,” you say. How are you even going to explain this to your boyfriend?

Easy: you won’t. How could you? It’s unexplainable. You’ve become good at knowing which things not to bother Keith with, and this is definitely one of them.

“I know,” Dmitri said. “But I didn’t think he would switch if we were just friends.”

“Well, that’s really stupid.” You probably shouldn’t be taking this out on him, seeing as he rescued you and all, but you are hungry and exhausted and you know he’s about to ask a bunch of questions you can’t answer and you just want this stupid trip to be over already.

“Clara,” he says. “What’s going on, exactly?” Apparently he's figured out that jealous boyfriends aren't generally invisible.

“I don’t know. It just happened.” You explain what you can about the postcards and the goblins. You hand him the postcard, but he finds the handwriting impossible to read--which makes no sense, it’s sloppy, but not that sloppy.

“Do you think they’ll actually kill you?”

"I know they will," you say, because you do.

He takes your hand.

Not long after, you fall asleep.You wake up to the stewardess’ voice.

“Miss Conner, here’s the meal you ordered for this flight.” She seems to be in a hurry, and pulls your tray out for you so she can set it down and attend to something else.

It appears to be a chicken salad sandwich and some chips. Which you definitely did not order.

You realize you’re nauseous again, and incredibly hungry.

Should you eat this incredibly sketchy food?


Reluctantly, you agree.

“Here.” He takes off his sweatshirt, which is light gray, and you switch wit him. He turns the Braves one inside out so the logo isn’t visible, since they’ve seen it. You switch bags. He has a carryon, and he unzips it and yanks out a scarf his grandmother just gave him as a Christmas present. You loop it around your face.

When the tram slows at C, you look out the windows. Two of them are at the edge of the crowd, about ten feet away. There are about seven tram doors opening.

“He’s here,” you mutter.

“Too close for us to go?”

Dang, it would be easy to say yes. But you don’t. “No, we can probably make it.”

He puts his arm around you, and you put the hood up, making sure none of your hair is visible. You begin walking, heads turned toward each other.

“We’re deep in conversation right now,” you say.

“Yes,” says Dmitri. “And we’re not walking too fast.”

“Because we’re so absorbed in our deep conversation.”

A businessman barrels past you, giving you a look like you’re both idiots. He lets his overly large carryon run over Dmitri’s foot.

But no slappy-slap-slap.

You make it to the escalator. You make it up the escalator. You make it to terminal C, and duck into a bookstore. There is a closed sandwich stand, and you duck behind the counter and sink onto the sticky tile floor.

“So....” says Dmitri. “You’re just going to hang out here for the next two and a half hours?”

You nod. Compared to being violently murdered, it sounds like heaven.

About half an hour before your flight starts boarding, Dmitri goes to get you guys something to eat. When he comes back with Qdoba, he says, “the strangest thing happened. I just got a notification on my phone that my flight is canceled, and I’m rerouted through La Guardia. So I’m on your flight. Weird, huh?”

A shiver of suspicion runs through you. “Yeah, weird,” you say, unwrapping your burrito.

Almost as weird as running into him in the first place.

You put down the burrito. You don’t trust Dmitri.

Actually, you do--you trust the weird little kid you met at camp. You’re just not sure if this guy sitting with you on this disgusting floor is actually him. This whole crazy day has been like something out of a twisted fairy tale, and isn’t there something in fairy tales about not taking food from strangers?

At the same time, you skipped breakfast this morning. You’re so hungry you’re slightly dizzy, even sitting down. You doubt you’ll be able to run or think at your best if you don’t get some nourishment.

Should you eat or not?
> You stuff the burrito in a napkin.

You manage to hide the burrito in your napkin. The edges of your vision blur, and your knees are wobbly, but at least you’re safe.

You and Dmitri decide that the best way to get on the plane is for you to wait until the line is ending and then just run. He will stand near enough to see the gate and then text you when it’s time.

When he texts you, you begin running. No goblins on either side of you. Your hunger disappears--nothing matters except getting on the plane.

They’re behind the desk.

Actually, they’re ON the desk. Waiting. Watching. Two of them.

The ticket agent is laughing, chiding that you aren’t that late.

The ink of your printed-out ticket stains your sweaty hand. You slow down, almost to a stop. Maybe you should miss the plane. If you run fast, maybe you can lose them for long enough to get a cab to the bus station.

But they didn't start chasing you until you got into this Godforsaken airport. Isn't it logical, then, that maybe they'll stop chasing you once you board?

Look at you, trying to apply logic to a situation that's clearly insane. Yeah, that's a real productive use of your time.

They see you. They aren’t coming toward you--but then, why should they? You’re going straight to them.

What do you do?


You limp onto the tram just as the doors close.

You aren’t stupid--no way is this hell over with. But at least you’re safe for now.

The tram slows at B Gate. Will any of them get on? You edge toward the doors, ready to leap out, but it's just a group of middle schoolers in matching sweatshirts and their chaperone. The tram ambles forward.

At the next stop, a guy about your age, tall and skinny with a t-shirt advertising a Dropkick Murphys show from eight years ago, gets on. He notices you.

Huh. Come to think of it, not many people have done that since you found the first postcard. You’re no Megan Fox, but you are a reasonably attractive twenty-year-old girl, and you’re accustomed to a moderate amount of male perusal while in public. And yet people’s eyes have been sliding past you all day. Only airport employees have acknowledged your existence. Weird.

This guy, however, sees you.

Probably not good.

You edge a little closer to the doors. What if he’s one of them? A normal college-age boy outside, a goblin inside? Maybe that’s the next level--at first the monsters are easy to spot, and then they’re in the form of fairly cute guys.

He walks up to you. “Hi.”

This close he looks familiar. Familiar like a human I’ve seen before, or familiar like a goblin?

“I think we went to camp together.”

His eyes are a yellow-striped green--what color were theirs? Damn. You were too panicked to notice.

“Guess not,” he says. You must look pretty freaked out, because he starts backing away slowly.

And then his face clicks into place. Triple R Ranch. Summer before fourth grade. His name is Dmitri, and the reason you still know that is that he was almost your first kiss. (Instead it was this loser named Jason in sixth grade. He told everyone you tasted like bubble gum--which doesn’t seem that bad, but somehow he made it sound absolutely disgusting. What a prick.)

“Wait,” you say. “Dmitri, right?”

“Yeah. You’re Claire.”

“Clara, actually. That’s my real name.” You like Claire better, but it was too hard to keep telling everyone to call you Claire. They kept forgetting, and finally you just gave up and went with it.

He asks where you’re going, and you tell him. He says he’s going to Philadelphia to spend Christmas with his dad--he’s headed to the same terminal you are.

His eyes move over you, but not in a flirtatious way. “Are you okay?”

You look down. In addition to the sloppy-looking sweatshirt and the way you're holding your foot, you are sweating profusely. “It’s been...a stressful trip,” you finish lamely.

“How so?”

He seems to know there’s a deeper meaning to that--which isn’t itself strange, Dmitri has always been able to read people pretty well--but you can’t shake the feeling that running into him is a little too coincidental. Should you trust him enough to tell him you’re being stalked, or just politely brush him off?

> You brush him off.

You have a pleasant conversation until he gets off--at your terminal, but you don't mention that. You ride the tram around the whole airport a few times and then decide to get off at Terminal D, since you assume the goblins are watching the tram stop at Terminal C.

As soon as you get off, they spot you. You try to run, but that works about as well as you’d expect for someone with a broken ankle. They catch you. And they do, indeed, kill you.


You limp along for a few feet, then dart into a gift shop. You browse behind a high shelf, waiting to see if anyone (or anything) is following you. Nothing looks suspicious, and no one seems to be paying you any particular attention.

You buy a dark blue Atlanta Braves sweatshirt and pull it over the cashmere J Crew sweater you got from the thrift shop in order to impress your boyfriend’s parents. Then it’s too hot, so you stuff it into your bag--your bright red bag. After checking your surroundings, you limp over and find a tote bag that says Hotlanta! And buy it (the clerk is, by now, looking at you like you’re a freak). You step behind the shelf and transfer everything in your large purse into the tote bag.

Holy damn, your ankle hurts. Every pulse of pain reminds you that this is real.

Suddenly you see them. Two...things. They’re about half your height, with green scales and large yellow teeth. They walk on two feet like a person, but they move like lizards.

And no one notices.

People move around them automatically, like they do for plants or luggage, but their eyes never focus on them.

The goblin’s eyes are small, soulless, but peering everywhere. Their little nostrils--their snouts are shaped like an alligator’s, but shorter--are twitching. They’re sniffing for you.

You step back, trying to move gradually in case fast movement kicks your scent into the air. Sweat pricks your underarms--a result, no doubt, of both your nervousness and the extra layer you’ve put on.

But when you peek again, they’ve passed by.

You pull off the sweater under your sweatshirt and manage to yank it off through the neck.

Maybe the smartest thing would be to keep them in front of you. After all, your gate is all the way on the other side of the airport, and you only have four hours to get there. The only way out of this nightmare is to get on that plane to New York.

You wait for them to get about fifty feet ahead, peek out of the store, and, seeing nothing amiss, begin slowly following them, dragging your sore ankle as you walk toward the center of the airport. Along the way, you throw away the purse and sweater, and stop in the bathroom and cover yourself with sickly-sweet strawberry soap--anything to hide your natural scent.After a few minutes, you reach an escalator, which will take you down to the tram area, where you will get a ride to your terminal.

As you near the bottom, suddenly there is a slap-slapping on the marble floor, like someone in thin wet socks.

You turn. There are creatures behind you, weaving around the people at the top of the escalator.

You hurry down the escalator, biting back your yelps of pain. The tram to Gate C has arrived. Should you try to catch it, hoping the doors will close before they can follow you(or if they do, that you can hop out before they do) or turn and fight?

> You fight, despite the ankle.

Okay, what will you use as a weapon? You have your new tote bag, (which, despite being soft on the outside, is pretty heavy with a phone, bottle of water, and iPad). Also, there is a wheelchair that has been left at the foot of the escalator.
> You bash with bag.

Yeah, heavy or not, it’s still just a bag, and there are two of them. You manage to hit one, and he seems to get dizzy. The other bites you, and you go down. No one notices you dying.


Okay, what will you use as a weapon? You have your new tote bag, (which, despite being soft on the outside, is pretty heavy with a phone, bottle of water, and iPad). Also, there is a wheelchair that has been left at the foot of the escalator.
> You use the wheelchair.

Picking up the heavy chair with only one reliable leg causes you to lose your balance. Immediately they’re on you. The last thing you see after one of them takes a bite out of you is a woman stepping over your body, as if she can't see you at all.


You go to your airline’s main desk and ask to speak to a TSA agent.

The uniformed attendant, who isn’t much older than you but looks like she has a ton more responsibility, smiles briskly and pulls something up on her computer. “Yes, Miss Conner--we were wondering if you’d stop by. Follow me.”

She leads you into what looks like a small conference room. Four leather chairs are arranged around a shiny wooden table. At one end of the room is a Keurig machine, a small fridge, and a bowl of apples. “Would you like something to drink while you wait?” she asks. “The agent should be in here shortly, and he’ll explain everything.”

You meant to ask her some questions, but the kindness in her voice--as well as the promise that everything is finally going to start making sense--almost brings you to tears. You accept a bottle of water and sit quietly.

The man who comes in is holding a manila file folder. He has no face.

Well, he has eyes, a nose, and a mouth, but they have no distinguishing features. He’s like a mannequin, except there’s nothing mechanical about his movements. He’s clearly real, just blank.

“Hello, Ms. Conner.”

Fear is rising through your throat like smoke.  This is a trap--this is just what the killer wanted.

He smiles comfortingly. “Oh, no, Ms. Conner--I’m not here to kill you. That’s not my job. Shall I leave the door open? You may leave whenever you like.” He props it open and takes the seat opposite you, leaving you closer to the exit. A flat laugh. “Of course, leaving would mean starting the running part, which you may not be ready to do. I’m not sure I blame you there!”

It’s the same tone you use with your boyfriend’s parents on Skype. Jovial, polite. A voice for small talk.

“Anyway, while you’re here, I’m supposed to go over the rules with you.” He opens the folder. “Rules are optional…” he reads, almost to himself. “We went over that. Okay, here we are. ‘If you are being briefed, you have been exceedingly stubborn in contacting the authorities. Stubbornness has both benefits and drawbacks, which we will discuss at the end.

“The following are the rules: you will run. They will try to catch you. You can run, hide, or fight. If they catch you, if they overpower you, you will die.

“But you will not ask for help from people of higher authority than yourself. If you continue to fail to accept the situation, you will lose, and losing this game will not be pleasant. You are safe when you cross the threshold of 333 Madison Avenue.”

He looks at you. “Do you need any part of that repeated?” he asks politely. “Or some coffee?”

“But why is this happening? What’s the point?”

He shrugs, eyes flitting over the documents. “I don’t see a point.”

Right. Let’s try another tack. “What do I have that they want?”

He reads from the paper again. “'You can run, hide, or fight.'”

Not helpful. “Can I see what else is in the folder?”

“Of course.”

He slides it across the table. On top is the paper he just read, typed in ordinary Times New Roman.

Behind that is another sheet with what appears to be a dossier on you--your full name, birthdate, social security number, height, weight, hair and eye color, GPA, hometown, high school, and a short medical and dental history. The GPA is current as of the exams you just finished taking.

Personal life, it says, like on Wikipedia.

Conner is of Irish, Scottish, and American Indian descent. She enjoys photography, reading, and hiking. She is affiliated with no particular religion. Her flaws include an irregular flossing routine and passivity.

That’s it.

“This is crazy.” These aren’t really the right words, because actually these papers are boring--pointedly boring, like they’ve been created to mock you.

You ask more questions--why you, why the teeth, how did they get this--but Faceless guy just gives you more polite non-answers.

Suddenly something rather obvious strikes you. You’ve been dealing with this like it’s an airport emergency, but it’s bigger than that. You have your phone, and it’s got plenty of charge. Why not call the police?

> You run.

You run for a few hundred feet, then dart into a gift shop. You browse behind a high shelf, waiting to see if anyone (or anything) is following you. Nothing looks suspicious, and no one seems to be paying you any particular attention.

You buy a dark blue Atlanta Braves sweatshirt and pull it over the cashmere J Crew sweater you got from the thrift shop in order to impress your boyfriend’s parents. Then it’s too hot, so you stuff it into your bag--your bright red bag. After checking your surroundings, you limp over and find a tote bag that says Hotlanta! And buy it (the clerk is, by now, looking at you like you’re a freak). You step behind the shelf and transfer everything in your large purse into the tote bag.

Suddenly you see them. Two. They’re about half your height, with green scales and large yellow teeth. They walk on two feet like a person, but they move like lizards. They look like the bad buys in a fairy tale. Goblins, or something.

And no one notices.

People move around them automatically, like they do for plants or luggage, but their eyes never focus on them.

The goblins' eyes are small, soulless, but peering everywhere. Their little nostrils--their snouts are shaped like an alligator’s, but shorter--are twitching. They’re sniffing for you.

You step back, trying to move gradually in case fast movement kicks your scent into the air. Sweat pricks your underarms--a result, no doubt, of both your nervousness and the extra layer you used to have on.

But when you peek again, they’ve passed by.

Maybe the smartest thing would be to keep them in front of you. After all, your gate is all the way on the other side of the airport, and you only have four hours to get there. The only way out of this nightmare is to get on that plane to New York.

You wait for them to get about fifty feet ahead, peek out of the store, and, seeing nothing amiss, begin following them. You begin walking toward the center of the airport. Along the way, you throw away the purse and sweater, and stop in the bathroom and cover yourself with sickly-sweet strawberry soap--anything to hide your natural scent.After a few minutes, you reach an escalator, which will take you down to the tram area, where you will get a ride to your terminal.

As you near the bottom, suddenly there is a slap-slapping on the marble floor, like someone in thin wet socks.

You turn. There are creatures behind you, weaving around the people at the top of the escalator.

You hurry down the escalator. The tram to Gate C has arrived. Should you try to catch it, hoping the doors will close before they can follow you (or if they do, that you can hop out quickly) or turn and fight?
> You run for the Tram

You leap onto the tram just as the doors close.

You aren’t stupid--no way is this hell over with. But at least you’re safe for now.

The tram slows at B Gate. Will any of them get on? You edge near the doors, ready to leap out, but none do, and the tram ambles onward.

A guy about your age, tall and skinny with a t-shirt advertising a Dropkick Murphys show from eight years ago gets on. He notices you.

Huh. Come to think of it, not many people have done that since you found the first postcard. You’re no Megan Fox, but you are a reasonably attractive twenty-year-old girl, and you’re used to a moderate amount of male perusal while in public. And yet, for the most part, people’s eyes have been sliding past you all day. Only airport employees have acknowledged your existence. Weird.

And yet this guy sees you.

That’s probably not good.

You edge a little closer to the doors. What if he’s one of them? A normal college-age boy outside, a goblin inside? Maybe that’s the next level of this--at first the monsters are easy to spot, and then they’re in the form of fairly cute guys.

He walks up to you. “Hi.”

This close he looks familiar. Familiar like a human I’ve seen before, or familiar like a goblin?

“I think we went to camp together.”

His eyes are a yellow-striped green--what color were theirs? You can’t remember. You were too panicked to notice.

“Guess not,” he says. You must look pretty freaked out, because he starts backing away.

And then his face clicks into place. Triple R Ranch. Summer before fourth grade. His name is Dmitri, and the reason you still know that is that he was almost your first kiss. (Instead it was this loser named Jason in sixth grade. He told everyone you tasted like bubble gum--which doesn’t seem that bad, but somehow he made it sound absolutely disgusting. What a prick.)

“Wait,” you say. “Dmitri, right?”

“Yeah. You’re Claire.”

“Clara, actually. That’s my real name.” You like Claire better, but it was too hard to keep telling everyone to call you Claire. They kept forgetting, and finally you just gave up and went with it.

He asks where you’re going, and you tell him. He says he’s going to Philadelphia to spend Christmas with his dad--he’s headed to the same terminal you are.

His eyes move over you, but not in a flirtatious way. “Are you okay?”

You look down. You are sweating profusely. “It’s been...a stressful trip,” you finish lamely.

“How so?”

He seems to know there’s a deeper meaning--which isn’t itself strange, Dmitri has always been able to read people pretty well--but you can’t shake the feeling that running into him is a little too coincidental. Should you trust him enough to tell him you’re being stalked, or just politely brush him off?


Okay, what will you use as a weapon? You have your new tote bag, (which is pretty heavy with a phone, bottle of water, and iPad). Also, there is a wheelchair that has been left at the foot of the escalator.
> You use the wheelchair.

The metal of the chair is light enough to swing but hard enough to hurt them. You send one sprawling into the now-moving tram and the other into the path of the crowd getting off the escalator. A few people seem to stumble over their own feet as they step on the goblin, but they--especially a woman in stilettos--injure him badly. Both lie there, bleeding yellow blood. They’re not dead, but both injuries look fatal.  Neither of them is going to be in any condition to chase you for the next three hours.

You probably shouldn't feel that triumphant. Sure, there were two of them, but they're three feet tall.

But you do. You've never fought with anyone (or, in this case, anything) in your life. And you won.
> You get on the tram.

You hurry onto the tram just as the doors close.

You aren’t stupid--no way is this hell over with. But at least you’re safe for now.

The tram slows at B Gate. Will any of them get on? You edge near the doors, ready to leap out, but none do, and the tram ambles onward.

A guy about your age, tall and skinny with a t-shirt advertising a Dropkick Murphys show from eight years ago gets on. He notices you.

Huh. Come to think of it, not many people have done that since you found the first postcard. You’re no Megan Fox, but you are a reasonably attractive twenty-year-old girl, and you’re used to a moderate amount of male perusal while in public. And yet, for the most part, people’s eyes have been sliding past you all day. Only airport employees have acknowledged your existence. Weird.

And yet this guy sees you.

That’s probably not good.

You edge a little closer to the doors. What if he’s one of them? A normal college-age boy outside, a goblin inside? Maybe that’s the next level of this--at first the monsters are easy to spot, and then they’re in the form of fairly cute guys.

He walks up to you. “Hi.”

This close he looks familiar. Familiar like a human I’ve seen before, or familiar like a goblin?

“I think we went to camp together.”

His eyes are a yellow-striped green--what color were theirs? You can’t remember. You were too panicked to notice.

“Guess not,” he says. You must look pretty freaked out, because he starts backing away.

And then his face clicks into place. Triple R Ranch. Summer before fourth grade. His name is Dmitri, and the reason you still know that is that he was almost your first kiss. (Instead it was this loser named Jason in sixth grade. He told everyone you tasted like bubble gum--which doesn’t seem that bad, but somehow he made it sound absolutely disgusting. What a prick.)

“Wait,” you say. “Dmitri, right?”

“Yeah. You’re Claire.”

“Clara, actually. That’s my real name.” You like Claire better, but it was too hard to keep telling everyone to call you Claire. They kept forgetting, and finally you just gave up and went with it.

He asks where you’re going, and you tell him. He says he’s going to Philadelphia to spend Christmas with his dad--he’s headed to the same terminal you are.

His eyes move over you, but not in a flirtatious way. “Are you okay?”

You look down. One of the goblins has ripped your jeans from knee to ankle. Also you are sweating profusely. “It’s been...a stressful trip,” you finish lamely.

“How so?”

He seems to know there’s a deeper meaning to that--which isn’t itself strange, Dmitri's always been able to read people pretty well--but you can’t shake the feeling that running into him is a little too coincidental. Should you trust him enough to tell him you’re being stalked, or just politely brush him off?

> You trust him...well, a little.

You make up a story about an old boyfriend who is following you and has threatened to kill you. The authorities won’t do anything because the threats are all verbal, and there’s no evidence, and he has a perfect record. Dmitri is skeptical of this at first, but when he sees your fear is real, he starts to believe you.

“So what are you going to do?” he asks.

“Get off at Terminal D, I guess. He's got to be watching Terminal C, since he knows my itinerary.”

“Yeah, but he’s watching for you, right?”

“Yes…”

“So let’s be a couple. He’ll be looking for someone alone, and that terminal should be pretty crowded since it’s a Delta one.”

Should you agree to this, or continue with your original plan?


You make your way to the galley and show the head flight attendant the postcard, explaining how you came to receive it.

She smiles, turns it over. “The Empire State Building. I’ve been there.”

You snatch it back and flip it to show her the message again. “Yeah, but someone’s threatening to kill me.”

“I love New York.” Her eyes are glazed. “It’s my favorite layover.” She turns to smile at you. Her white teeth glitter.

You show another flight attendant with similar results.

Okay, this isn’t going so well. What should you do? Start screaming for help, or just sit there, like, well, a sitting duck?

> You um, it said not to tell. You're just going to sit quietly and then start running when you get off the plane.
You run for a few hundred feet. No one seems to be coming behind you. Everything seems normal. Just another chaotic airport.

You keep running. Maybe--maybe--this is all a sick joke. Well, probably not. But it could be an idle threat. After all, you’re in public. It shouldn’t be too hard to stay around plenty of witnesses--you’re in a friggin’ airport at Christmastime. This is fine. You can handle this.

You dart into a gift shop. You browse behind a high shelf, waiting to see if anyone (or anything) is following you. Nothing looks suspicious, and no one seems to be paying you any attention.

Just to be safe, you buy a dark blue Atlanta Braves sweatshirt and pull it over the cashmere J Crew sweater you got from the thrift shop in order to impress your boyfriend’s parents.

What else will make you stand out? You're carrying a bright red purse.

After checking your surroundings, you walk over and find a tote bag that says Hotlanta! And buy it (the clerk is, by now, looking at you like you’re a freak). You step behind the shelf and transfer everything in your large purse into the tote bag.

Suddenly you see them. Two. They’re about half your height, with green scales and large yellow teeth. They walk on two feet like a person, but they move like lizards. They look like the bad buys in a fairy tale. Goblins, or something.

And no one notices.

People move around them automatically, like they do for plants or luggage, but their eyes never focus on them.

The goblins' eyes are small, soulless, but peering everywhere. Their little nostrils--their snouts are shaped like an alligator’s, but shorter--are twitching. Sniffing for you.

You step back, trying to move gradually in case fast movement kicks your scent into the air. Sweat pricks your underarms--a result, no doubt, of both your nervousness and the extra layer you’ve put on.

But when you peek again, they’ve passed by.

You pull off the sweater under your sweatshirt and manage to yank it off through the neck.

Maybe the smartest thing would be to keep them in front of you. After all, your gate is all the way on the other side of the airport, and you only have four hours to get there. The only way out of this nightmare is to get on that plane to New York.

You wait for them to get about fifty feet ahead, peek out of the store, and, seeing nothing amiss, begin following them. You begin walking toward the center of the airport. Along the way, you throw away the purse and sweater, and stop in the bathroom and cover yourself with sickly-sweet strawberry soap--anything to hide your natural scent.After a few minutes, you reach an escalator, which will take you down to the tram area, where you will get a ride to your terminal.

As you near the bottom, suddenly there is a slap-slapping on the marble floor, like someone in thin wet socks.

You turn. Creatures are behind you, weaving around the people at the top of the escalator.

You hurry down the escalator. The tram to Gate C has arrived. Should you try to catch it, hoping the doors will close before they can follow you (or if they do, that you can hop out before they can do the same) or turn and fight?

> You fight!

Okay, what will you use as a weapon? You have your new tote bag, (which, though soft on the outside, is pretty heavy with a phone, bottle of water, and iPad). Also, there is a wheelchair that has been left at the foot of the escalator.

> You bash with bag.

Heavy or not, it’s still just a bag, and there are two of them. It makes one goblin dizzy, the other bites you, and you go down. Strangely, no one notices you dying.


You run for a few hundred feet. No one seems to be coming behind you. Everything seems normal. Just another chaotic airport.

You keep running. Maybe--maybe--this is all a sick joke. Well, probably not. But it could be an idle threat. After all, you’re in public. It shouldn’t be too hard to stay around plenty of witnesses--you’re in a friggin’ airport at Christmastime. This is fine. You can handle this.

You dart into a gift shop. You browse behind a high shelf, waiting to see if anyone (or anything) is following you. Nothing looks suspicious, and no one seems to be paying you any attention.

Just to be safe, you buy a dark blue Atlanta Braves sweatshirt and pull it over the cashmere J Crew sweater you got from the thrift shop in order to impress your boyfriend’s parents.

What else will make you stand out? You're carrying a bright red purse.

After checking your surroundings, you walk over and find a tote bag that says Hotlanta! And buy it (the clerk is, by now, looking at you like you’re a freak). You step behind the shelf and transfer everything in your large purse into the tote bag.

Suddenly you see them. Two. They’re about half your height, with green scales and large yellow teeth. They walk on two feet like a person, but they move like lizards. They look like the bad buys in a fairy tale. Goblins, or something.

And no one notices.

People move around them automatically, like they do for plants or luggage, but their eyes never focus on them.

The goblins' eyes are small, soulless, but peering everywhere. Their little nostrils--their snouts are shaped like an alligator’s, but shorter--are twitching. Sniffing for you.

You step back, trying to move gradually in case fast movement kicks your scent into the air. Sweat pricks your underarms--a result, no doubt, of both your nervousness and the extra layer you’ve put on.

But when you peek again, they’ve passed by.

You pull off the sweater under your sweatshirt and manage to yank it off through the neck.

Maybe the smartest thing would be to keep them in front of you. After all, your gate is all the way on the other side of the airport, and you only have four hours to get there. The only way out of this nightmare is to get on that plane to New York.

You wait for them to get about fifty feet ahead, peek out of the store, and, seeing nothing amiss, begin following them. You begin walking toward the center of the airport. Along the way, you throw away the purse and sweater, and stop in the bathroom and cover yourself with sickly-sweet strawberry soap--anything to hide your natural scent.After a few minutes, you reach an escalator, which will take you down to the tram area, where you will get a ride to your terminal.

As you near the bottom, suddenly there is a slap-slapping on the marble floor, like someone in thin wet socks.

You turn. Creatures are behind you, weaving around the people at the top of the escalator.

You hurry down the escalator. The tram to Gate C has arrived. Should you try to catch it, hoping the doors will close before they can follow you (or if they do, that you can hop out before they can do the same) or turn and fight?

> You run for the tram.

You hurry onto the tram just as the doors close.

You aren’t stupid--no way is this hell over with. But at least you’re safe for now.

The tram slows at B Gate. Will any of them get on? You edge toward the doors, ready to leap out, but it's just a group of middle schoolers in matching sweatshirts and their chaperone. The tram ambles forward.

At the next stop, a guy about your age, tall and skinny with a t-shirt advertising a Dropkick Murphys show from eight years ago, gets on. He notices you.

Huh. Come to think of it, not many people have done that since you found the first postcard. You’re no Megan Fox, but you are a reasonably attractive twenty-year-old girl, and you’re accustomed to a moderate amount of male perusal while in public. And yet people’s eyes have been sliding past you all day. Only airport employees have acknowledged your existence. Weird.

This guy, however, sees you.

Probably not good.

You edge a little closer to the doors. What if he’s one of them? A normal college-age boy outside, a goblin inside? Maybe that’s the next level--at first the monsters are easy to spot, and then they’re in the form of fairly cute guys.

He walks up to you. “Hi.”

This close he looks familiar. Familiar like a human I’ve seen before, or familiar like a goblin?

“I think we went to camp together.”

His eyes are a yellow-striped green--what color were theirs? Damn. You were too panicked to notice.

“Guess not,” he says. You must look pretty freaked out, because he starts backing away slowly.

And then his face clicks into place. Triple R Ranch. Summer before fourth grade. His name is Dmitri, and the reason you still know that is that he was almost your first kiss. (Instead it was this loser named Jason in sixth grade. He told everyone you tasted like bubble gum--which doesn’t seem that bad, but somehow he made it sound absolutely disgusting. What a prick.)

“Wait,” you say. “Dmitri, right?”

“Yeah. You’re Claire.”

“Clara, actually. That’s my real name.” You like Claire better, but it was too hard to keep telling everyone to call you Claire. They kept forgetting, and finally you just gave up and went with it.

He asks where you’re going, and you tell him. He says he’s going to Philadelphia to spend Christmas with his dad--he’s headed to the same terminal you are.

His eyes move over you, but not in a flirtatious way. “Are you okay?”

You look down. In addition to the sloppy-looking sweatshirt, you are sweating profusely. “It’s been...a stressful trip,” you finish lamely.

“How so?”

He seems to know there’s a deeper meaning to that--which isn’t itself strange, Dmitri has always been able to read people pretty well--but you can’t shake the feeling that running into him is a little too coincidental. Should you trust him enough to tell him you’re being stalked, or just politely brush him off?


The airport is hella crowded, and of course every single face you see is pinched with anxiety, like flying home for Christmas is the most horrific event of their lives. You aren't usually one to use the word vibe, but the whole atmosphere gives you a slightly sick feeling, as if your body is absorbing their stress.

You board the plane for the six-hour flight to your connection, Atlanta. Halfway through, you use the lav.

When you return, there's a postcard on your seat. This one shows a picture of the Empire State Building. You turn it over.

Black, scrawling letters read:

Dear Clara,

When you get off, that’s when I’ll find you.

When I find you, that’s when I’ll kill you.

When you run, better run fast.

When you hide, better hide good.

When you tell, it makes things worse.

Panic clenches your throat. Is this real? Does someone actually want to kill you?

What should you do? Tell the stewardess? Or follow the advice on the postcard?
> You don't Tell

The plane lands.

What should you do--go to the TSA and tell them what’s going on, or just run and hope the killer doesn’t find you?


It’s officially winter break. You stumble toward your dorm room, brain turned to mush from taking five exams in three days.

All you have to do is grab your suitcase, and then you’ll be on your way to NYC to stay with your boyfriend, Keith, and his parents for Christmas. You’ve never met them, but he’s told you that they have a large, luxurious apartment with a pool--which sounds awesome, but intimidating.

Anyway.

Keith, the lucky son of a gun, has already flown out. (He’s a creative writing major. His exams consist of writing poems about his childhood and writing essays about the meaning of life.)

You pause in the hallway (which is empty--almost everyone else has finished exams and gotten the heck out of here.) Like every college dorm room in every movie ever, there's a whiteboard on your door.

Now there's an "I Heart NY" magnet on there. The magnet holds a postcard with a photo of the Statue of Liberty. You're pretty sure it wasn't there when you left this morning.

> You take the postcard from the board.

In thick black Sharpie, it says

“Dear Clara,

If you leave, I’ll go too. So I can kill you.”

No exclamation point. Like it’s a fact.

So, um...that happened. You aren't real big on taking risks...but then again, is this a risk or a weird joke?
> You why take chances? Stay and watch Netflix.

Why take chances? You were nervous about meeting his family anyway. You don’t go.

Your boyfriend is mad at you for about a month afterward, and you start to regret how cowardly you were--both about the note and meeting his parents. You clearly don’t have the capacity to think for yourself--and you’re selfish.

In May, Keith gets a middle-management job at his dad’s company, which was always the unspoken plan (though Keith told people at parties that he was an aspiring writer.) He moves to New York City, and you are so bent on redeeming yourself for not coming to see him at Christmas that you follow him out there without really considering that you aren't in love with him anymore.

A year later, you're engaged, and a year after that, you marry him. His father’s company promotes him quickly (so quickly his colleagues secretly hate him).You have two kids. You suspect he’s cheating, but you don’t really think about it until he comes home just before your twentieth anniversary. He tells you he’s in love with his secretary.

Goblins haunt your dreams.

After a two-year divorce battle over alimony and custody, you are angry, exhausted, and consumed with the need for vengeance. As the years go by, nothing much changes. You resent Keith for the way he controlled your life, but at this point you're too lazy to be proactive. This attitude remains basically unchanged until you die--which happens when you're an old woman, but jeez, what a pointless life.


In thick black Sharpie, it says

“Dear Clara,

If you leave, I’ll go too. So I can kill you.”

No exclamation point. Like it’s a fact.

So, um...that happened. You aren't real big on taking risks...but then again, is this a risk or a weird joke?
> You go anyway. It's obviously a joke.

Um, this is clearly a joke--and since you don’t get it, it’s probably for your roommate. Obviously you aren’t going to screw up your holiday plans and waste the $900 ticket Keith generously got for you.

You finish packing. As you roll your suitcase down the deserted hallway, you see something disappearing around a corner: a figure about three feet tall, with green skin.

Should you follow it, or ignore your obviously delusional and sleep-deprived mind?


You wake up, but meh.  Who really cares?

You walk out of your chamber, the giant stone echoes with the sounds of your footsteps.  As you exit the hall you gaze upon the worthless denizens of your humble abode.

They all wander around, asking you your opinions of things, but do you care?  Meh, not really.  Another sound catches your ears.  And from out of some random chamber comes a short girl with orange hair.

"Ah, my cherry pie," you say as you kiss her on the forehead.

"Hey, you slept in pretty late!" She says.

"Meh."

"I'm going to go to Cystia today?  Want to join me?" she asks.

"Meh."

"Meh?" she asks.

"Might stay in Discordina today."

"Why?"

"Eh, don't feel like it."

As you continue on, you see more and more people and things you do not care about at all.  Eventually, you make your way down the hall to one of your favorite rooms.

The whirring and clanking of machinery and other things is like music to your ears.  But that's not all.  Ahead, someone covered in scales stands in front of a large machine.  Large and with plenty of metal tubes, each with green liquid running through them.  It is through this invention, and with the help of this green magical essence, you can alter reality itself.  It's called the Deviner, the greatest invention to ever exist.

You step forward to plug yourself in, the large needle like object about to prick through your forehead.  But as you do so, you don't feel the rush of the running green liquid.  In fact all you hear is an odd clunking and churning sound.

Nothing happens, and you frown.

"Damn it!" The scaly dragon man says, "I think something is busted."

You rip the needle out and let it dangle where it sits.  The machinery itself seems to have broken down, collapsed and laying defunct.  The dragon man starts gathering pieces of what machinery he can.  Before you can do anything, he stops you.

"I'll work in this stuff, you should go to Cystia and find some of those magic crystals."

"Why?" you ask.

"Not only did the machinery break, it seems the magic crystal over charged, and sent a surge of magic throughout the liquid.  So it broke down the weaker parts of the Deviner."

You sigh, one of the few things you gave a shit about.

You walk down the worthless halls, pass all the worthless people, and finally reach one of the worthless carriages.  It seems several of them have taken off anyway.

As you sit down, you slump into the comfy seat you had installed in the carriage.  The worthless guy driving it flicks the reigns, causing the worthless horses to go forward.

> You destination
You finally arrive to the bustling land known as Cystia!  As you drive through the wild lands, you see several guards in armor patrolling along the roads.

These stone roads must be new.  Ahead you see three of the guards chasing some furry creature, landing several arrows in its back as it finally goes down.  The guards stand in the middle of the road, one steps forward and raises a hand.  The carriage grinds to a halt.

You look the window as a guard briskly approaches.

"The roads are dangerous, you shouldn't be traveling alone."

"Meh," you shrug your shoulders.

The guard sighs, his tired eyes looking blank for a few moments.

"The beast folk roam these lands," he says, "at least allow a couple of our guards to travel with you."

You shrug your shoulders, and the guard orders two of his underlings to join you in the carriage.

The ride is uneventful, although there are a few minor sights to see along the way.
> You town
It is about noon by the time the carriage reaches the gates of the civilized lands of Cystia.  A few shouts from the guards over the walls, and the heavy wood and iron gates creak open.  The carriage pulls up to a wooden…shack, where a couple of dirty peasants come out to take care of the horses.

You step out of the carriage, and take a look around.  Hopefully some crystals should be somewhere in Cystia…if not you're going to have to make a hike to a very powerful magic users place.  Not that you can get in there, but you'd have to try.

You have to try and figure something out, otherwise you'll never be able to use the Diviner again!

You go to look around that all this portion of Cystia has to offer.  Now where could those magic crystals be?
> You lair
A feeling of intense dread fills you up, making you feel not so warm inside.  You're last trip to this place was….interesting.  After getting painfully banished you decided to ignore the place and just continue on business as usual.

But you NEED to get these crystals, otherwise what will become of your place in Discorina?

It takes hours, but eventually you make your way past the main city, and through the dirt road.  Ahead, the large and dark castle looms over head.  The ashy clouds spewing a host of rain and lightning strikes viciously at the ground.  The stone walls surrounding the castle appear foreboding, several small watchtowers dot the wall.

Dark spires stretching upward, the metal spikes on top of them catching some of the lightning bolts.  As you near the wall, you swear you hear something turning and whirring from deep within the castle, amidst the sound of the storm.

Shivering and trembling you jog over to the castle, hoping you can get what you're looking for, and maybe a place to warm up.

The large wooden gate appears to be shut, you didn't expect it to just be wide open though.  You grab the rope on the side and pull it with all of your might.  The large bell connected to it rings out its horrid tune.

As you stand, soaked and cold, the door slowly opens but just a bit.  Taking a step forward you squint at the opening.

"Who's there?" a voice says, "Ford?  Is that you?"

"Yep," you say.

"Ha, you know you're not allowed here."

"I'm just here for some magic crystals…nothing else," you say.

"I think that would be going against the rules…remember what happened last time you were here?"

"Can you at least let me in from the cold, please," you say, "wouldn't it be nice?"

The door opens more, and the source of the voice steps out.  A tall man, hair shaved and clean shaven, he smiles.  But there is something else to that smile, it's not exactly coming from a place of hospitality.

"Sure," he chuckles, "this should be interesting."

"Thanks," you say as you walk past him.

You enter the tunnel that eventually leads to the door…which you find to be open.  Walking in like you own the place, you take a look around.  The large keep appears empty…as far as you can tell.

The winds of the storm buffets against the castle, it almost obscures the sound of your soft steps as you traverse across the large keep.

Wandering down the halls, you stop suddenly as you hear something.

"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Shrugging your shoulders you continue, must have just been your imagination.

The halls twist and wind, and you feel as lost as ever.  How did you ever navigate this place in the short time you had spent here?

That darn Sorceress must be around here somewhere, she must have some magic crystals.  But where could she be?
> You spire
You start with the most obvious place, the spire that she lives in.  As you pass a few rooms, you hear a strange sound coming from one of them…meh. You continue on, not caring about what is very likely one of the many strange noises you will be hearing tonight.

After going up several sets of stairs, you come to one that narrows and….spirals as you go up it.  After several minutes you find yourself at the top, amidst a huge library.  You walk through the place, eerily quiet.

"Ax…Ax!" you shout.

Nothing.  Eventually you find a bed, a desk, and some table meant to magic things or whatever it is she does.  Having no interest in anything that could be stashed in here, you continue on your way.

Where else could you look?


A feeling of intense dread fills you up, making you feel not so warm inside.  You're last trip to this place was….interesting.  After getting painfully banished you decided to ignore the place and just continue on business as usual.

But you NEED to get these crystals, otherwise what will become of your place in Discorina?

It takes hours, but eventually you make your way past the main city, and through the dirt road.  Ahead, the large and dark castle looms over head.  The ashy clouds spewing a host of rain and lightning strikes viciously at the ground.  The stone walls surrounding the castle appear foreboding, several small watchtowers dot the wall.

Dark spires stretching upward, the metal spikes on top of them catching some of the lightning bolts.  As you near the wall, you swear you hear something turning and whirring from deep within the castle, amidst the sound of the storm.

Shivering and trembling you jog over to the castle, hoping you can get what you're looking for, and maybe a place to warm up.

The large wooden gate appears to be shut, you didn't expect it to just be wide open though.  You grab the rope on the side and pull it with all of your might.  The large bell connected to it rings out its horrid tune.

As you stand, soaked and cold, the door slowly opens but just a bit.  Taking a step forward you squint at the opening.

"Who's there?" a voice says, "Ford?  Is that you?"

"Yep," you say.

"Ha, you know you're not allowed here."

"I'm just here for some magic crystals…nothing else," you say.

"I think that would be going against the rules…remember what happened last time you were here?"

"Can you at least let me in from the cold, please," you say, "wouldn't it be nice?"

The door opens more, and the source of the voice steps out.  A tall man, hair shaved and clean shaven, he smiles.  But there is something else to that smile, it's not exactly coming from a place of hospitality.

"Sure," he chuckles, "this should be interesting."

"Thanks," you say as you walk past him.

You enter the tunnel that eventually leads to the door…which you find to be open.  Walking in like you own the place, you take a look around.  The large keep appears empty…as far as you can tell.

The winds of the storm buffets against the castle, it almost obscures the sound of your soft steps as you traverse across the large keep.

Wandering down the halls, you stop suddenly as you hear something.

"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Shrugging your shoulders you continue, must have just been your imagination.

The halls twist and wind, and you feel as lost as ever.  How did you ever navigate this place in the short time you had spent here?

That darn Sorceress must be around here somewhere, she must have some magic crystals.  But where could she be?
> You garden
You go to the interior garden, flowing with life, plants, some animals, the place is huge.  You look around, and as you call out don't see anyone.  Guess you'll have to look elsewhere.


A feeling of intense dread fills you up, making you feel not so warm inside.  You're last trip to this place was….interesting.  After getting painfully banished you decided to ignore the place and just continue on business as usual.

But you NEED to get these crystals, otherwise what will become of your place in Discorina?

It takes hours, but eventually you make your way past the main city, and through the dirt road.  Ahead, the large and dark castle looms over head.  The ashy clouds spewing a host of rain and lightning strikes viciously at the ground.  The stone walls surrounding the castle appear foreboding, several small watchtowers dot the wall.

Dark spires stretching upward, the metal spikes on top of them catching some of the lightning bolts.  As you near the wall, you swear you hear something turning and whirring from deep within the castle, amidst the sound of the storm.

Shivering and trembling you jog over to the castle, hoping you can get what you're looking for, and maybe a place to warm up.

The large wooden gate appears to be shut, you didn't expect it to just be wide open though.  You grab the rope on the side and pull it with all of your might.  The large bell connected to it rings out its horrid tune.

As you stand, soaked and cold, the door slowly opens but just a bit.  Taking a step forward you squint at the opening.

"Who's there?" a voice says, "Ford?  Is that you?"

"Yep," you say.

"Ha, you know you're not allowed here."

"I'm just here for some magic crystals…nothing else," you say.

"I think that would be going against the rules…remember what happened last time you were here?"

"Can you at least let me in from the cold, please," you say, "wouldn't it be nice?"

The door opens more, and the source of the voice steps out.  A tall man, hair shaved and clean shaven, he smiles.  But there is something else to that smile, it's not exactly coming from a place of hospitality.

"Sure," he chuckles, "this should be interesting."

"Thanks," you say as you walk past him.

You enter the tunnel that eventually leads to the door…which you find to be open.  Walking in like you own the place, you take a look around.  The large keep appears empty…as far as you can tell.

The winds of the storm buffets against the castle, it almost obscures the sound of your soft steps as you traverse across the large keep.

Wandering down the halls, you stop suddenly as you hear something.

"REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Shrugging your shoulders you continue, must have just been your imagination.

The halls twist and wind, and you feel as lost as ever.  How did you ever navigate this place in the short time you had spent here?

That darn Sorceress must be around here somewhere, she must have some magic crystals.  But where could she be?
> You kitchen
Ah, that’s right, it must be dinner time!  After spending several more long and grueling minutes trying to remember your way around the place, you pass through some of the halls until you find the kitchens.

And what a smell that greets you!  Someone is cooking up some good shit!

As you enter the large dinner hall, the near empty place seems somewhat startling.  As you get closer to the trio, you see one woman holding several chickens in her arms and softly whispering to them.

"Who are you?" you ask.

"It's simple…I'm Sabley," she says before going back to the most precious chickens.

The second person you see is some girl with little snakes for hair, and her eyes….by God her eyes…you stare with horror into the empty void that was her eye sockets, as you do so a little beetle crawls out of one of them, takes a shit on her eyebrow, and goes back inside.
> You stare into the Void
As you stare into the gaping chasms, you think you see something flickering within, it is a quick flash of red…then it is gone.  As you keep staring the darkness seems to seep out of them and take over your vision.  You tremble and shutter and fall to the floor…

Time...time loops...


Ah, that’s right, it must be dinner time!  After spending several more long and grueling minutes trying to remember your way around the place, you pass through some of the halls until you find the kitchens.

And what a smell that greets you!  Someone is cooking up some good shit!

As you enter the large dinner hall, the near empty place seems somewhat startling.  As you get closer to the trio, you see one woman holding several chickens in her arms and softly whispering to them.

"Who are you?" you ask.

"It's simple…I'm Sabley," she says before going back to the most precious chickens.

The second person you see is some girl with little snakes for hair, and her eyes….by God her eyes…you stare with horror into the empty void that was her eye sockets, as you do so a little beetle crawls out of one of them, takes a shit on her eyebrow, and goes back inside.
> You ask where Axiom is
"Where is Axiom?" you ask.

Misjudging the sound, the blind freak turns towards the empty wall.

"Last I saw, she went down to the dungeon," she says patting the chair next to her, "don't worry, you'll find her soon enough."

"Thanks," you say.

She turns to you.

"I wasn't talking to you," she says turning back to the chair once again, "some people, no respect for private conversations."

She shakes her head in disgust and begins going into detailed instructions of where the dungeon could be.

"Well, our friend Corgi could take you there," Sabley says, "he knows where the dungeon is, don't you Corgi?"

You hadn't really paid attention to, or noticed the third person in the trio.  By your feet sits a little dog, its short fur pasted and matted with…you don't really want to know what.  The dogs tongue perpetually hangs out from the side of its mouth, and as it stares at you, its left eye seems shift to the left.  Its pupil almost hides within its eye socket.

"Oh, I think he is trying to point towards the door."

You look in the direction of the eye to see the door you came from.

"He wants you to show him where the dungeon is, can you do that?" Sabley asks.

"Daaaargh!" Corgi shouts and vigorously shakes his head up and down.

In a moment he briskly walks over to the door, his little feet making padding sounds.  You have no choice but to follow it at this point.

The dog sits by the door and waits for you to catch up before continuing.
> You dungeon
After some time, the dog sits in front of a large stair case.  He sits and faces you, his left eye rolling into the back of his head, presumably to point at the stairs right behind him.  As you walk down the stairs you almost don't notice the dog following right behind you.

You finally reach the long and dark corridors.  As you walk past multiple cells, you see a demented looking furry man sitting in a cage with a giant lizard.  They roll a ball back and forth, the furry man just repeats "Jibble" over and over again, drool coming out the side of his mouth.

With shivers going down your spine, you continue on, not wanting to know what sick degeneracy this will turn into.  Along the way, you hear a giant Uuuuurp! and peer into the cell it came from.

Materializing from the shadows is a large, ugly….Ogre!  The good natured being waves and smiles at you.

"Didn't expect to see you here!" he says.

Not caring you shrug your shoulders and continue on, the Ogre cares even less and goes back to scratching his ass or whatever it is ogres do.

Eventually you find your way to a break in the wall, bricks lay on the ground, and moss grows along the walls of the cave that gives way.

"Dar!" Corgi shouts and his eye points to the cave.
> You cave
You enter the dark cave, and after a few minutes of feeling around curse yourself for not thinking to grab a torch from the wall.  Eventually though, a light emanates from up ahead.  Surely she is hanging out over here.

The torchlight almost blinds you as you step out.  The cave expands out to a huge cave system, filled with thousands of glowing plants and mushrooms of various sorts.  About halfway across is what appears to be a river running out to the ocean.  A small dock sits empty, as a lonely lamp on a post shines bright.

A small campfire burns, with several log benches surrounding it.  Two figures sit around it, small green glowing things in their hands.  You nonchalantly walk up to the campfire, the dog goes and crawls into some makeshift dog house not too far away.

Sitting on each side of the fire are Malk and Steve.  The first wearing a pink tutu, and a regular fur shirt above that, he sees you eyeing the tutu.

"What?" Malk says, "it's a joke."

"Whatever you say," you say, "have either of you seen Axiom?"

"Just missed her, I'm afraid," Steve says, "hey, do you want to sit with us for a while?"

You start to shrug your shoulders.

"You should warm up," Steve says, "you look soaked."

You decide to sit and humor them for a while, besides, the fire is quite warm.  Steve points to the small dock.

"Axiom took that boat not two hours ago," Steve says, "no idea why she would in a storm like this."

You look to the empty dock once again, before looking down to the dark abyss that is the cave system.

"These caves extend much further out than any of us would have imagined," Steve says, "what lies in the depths is any ones guess."

"As long as she didn’t go too far into them," you say, "although she would probably know them  better than anyone else."

"No, she went to the ocean," Steve says, "although she does traverse the caves often enough."

"Eh, she'll be fine," Malk says, "hey Ford, want to try one of these?"

Malk extends his hand, revealing a glowing green mushroom, and a dark red plant in his palm.

"These will have you up in the clouds for days, man," Malk says, "shit's good."

"What exactly is it?" you ask.

"Some kind of mushrooms," he says.
> You don't Eat the Mushrooms
"Eh, no I'm good," you say.

"What? Why not, man?" Malks asks.

"I just don't trust any old thing-"

"Bah, whatever." Malk says as he jams the mushroom in his mouth, and seems to take too much pleasure in chewing it up and swallowing it…especially the swallowing.

His eyes roll up into the back of his head a moment and then he grins as they roll back into place.  His glazed eyes have a faraway look, and drool starts to drip from his mouth.  Glancing back, you notice Steve seems to have ingested the mysterious mushrooms as well, he stares at the ceiling.

"Whuuuuh," Steve says, "look at you, you sexy thing."
> You continue
You decide it would be best to wait around for a while, no use in going out and getting lost.  As you wait, Steve and Malk seem to have ingested more of the mushrooms.

Malk stands up and starts twirling like a pretty ballerina, and Steve starts dancing some king of Irish jig.  In their minds they probably look like professional dancers…to you they look like a couple of idiots sloppily flailing around.

Malk grabs your hands and starts trying to dance with you…..fuck it!  You join in and spin him around right before dipping him, and throwing him in the air and catching him.

He brings his lips close to yours, and you turn away in time to get a big, wet, sloppy smooch on the cheek.  Cringing you drop him and step away.

"Too far?" Malk grins as he snorts something else and starts hopping around like a frog.

You see Steve take out some paper and begin to furiously scribble on it.

You turn and scratch your head, wondering what exactly you have gotten yourself into.  Malk hops up and tries to do the same jig he saw Steve do earlier, but only more horrible and sloppy.

Malk belts out a song as he dances, at one point almost falling into the fire, but you catch him and pull him away.  He doesn't even realize and continues what he is doing.

He kneels down and picks up the red plant.

"I've never tried this one before…" Malk looks at Steve, "let's try it boy-o."

Steve looks up, already having several large books filled up with his writing.  That was fast.

"Indeed, my friend, indeed we shall," Steve stands up and takes a plant, "hmm, not sure if we should…"

"Bah! Nonsense!" Malk says, "man, I could really go for some pie right now."

"Ughh," Steve's face coils up into disgust.

"I absolutely hate pie," Steve says.

"Eh, you can help me make it then," Malk says.

Steve shrugs as he and Malk begin to crush up parts of the red plant, and rolling it up in some leaves.  After lighting it up using the camp fire, they smoke the crap out of that thing.  They're eyes becoming red as smoke fills the immediate area.

After some time you start to feel a bit woozy…too much smoke around you.  As you sit, Malk giggles and points at you.  Steve laughs his ass off and almost falls out of the log bench.

"Man, I hate pie," Steve says, "but I sure could use some."

"Haha fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!" Malk screams, "I have a great fucking idea!"

Before anyone can say anything, Malk leaps up and grabs you by the collar.  His eyes start to glow red like the red plant, and so do Steve's eyes. Both giggling they drag you up the cave, even while you kick and protest.

"Man, this will be so funny," Malk says, "hah…fuck…best joke ever…"

You open your mouth to try to speak, but Malk turns and vomits up some green, glowing liquid, it fills your mouth and you sputter and choke.

"Ergh! Fuck!" you scream.
> You baked and Baking
The two high motherfuckers throw you onto the table in the kitchen.

"Wha-what are you guys doi-" you say.

"Shut the fuck up! It's okay," Malk says as he strokes your hair, "it'll be fun, you'll love it!"

A sound grabs your attention, and you turn your head.  A man with two sharp horns and pinkish red skin, enters.

"Karstark! Er- Lord Karstark!" Malk says, "you're just in time, want to help?"

"Sure…suuuure," Karstark grins and laughs evilly as he rubs his hands together, "what are we doing?"

"You'll find out," Steve snaps and shakes his head, and he and Malk each glance at each other and shake their heads at Karstarks foolishness, a thing only known to them.

As you turn to look at Malk, you scream as an axe blade buries into your face.  Another whack and your eye pops out of your head, miraculously you're still able to see Steve preparing a little silver tray.

Karstark steps forward and before you know it, he is sawing your arm off, and drinking the blood of your severed arm.

You cough and sputter blood as you start to fall off the table, and Malk hoists you up back onto it with surprising strength.  He scolds Kar for drinking your blood, and your vision goes dark as they continue to hack you up….
> You wake Up
In the inner recesses of your consciousness, you feel an extreme heat burning up your body.  You try to scream but can't just yet.  You feel something moving though, must be your mouth.

A grating sound grinds against your ears, and you cringe as a gloved hand grabs you and pulls you from the searing heat.  You suck in a fresh gasp of air, and the two faces above you gasp and place you on the table.

A third one comes into view as they all stare at you in horror…you recognize these faces…you're sure of it.  As you are placed, more like thrown on the table.  You feel a jolt of something course through you…and you remember.

You remember fleeting bits of pain as these high as mother fuckers chopped you up.

"What did we do?" Steve asks.

The trio looks at each other, Karstark, being a demon, just laughs.  Malk and Steve pick you up and hurriedly make their way to the sewage grates.

"Sorry man," Malk says, "we're not sure what else to do."

"Wait!" Steve says.

But it's too late, you've been dropped in the drain and swirl in the stream of nasty, shitty, sewage water…
> You swirls and Shit
Pain…true pain…something stabs at the edge of your consciousness.  No wait…

Your eyes snap open, your shit and filth covered body reverberating as something slams into it…again and again.  As the feces float out of your vision, you are accosted by the horrible sight of one of the beast people!

It's little fuzzy pole jamming in and out of one of the many openings in your body.  Your mouth gapes wide and excretes a foul, smelly, green liquid, covering the Rat Man!  It screams as the acidic taste burns its flesh, and it hops into the squishy log filled waters in an attempt to wash off the liquid…bad idea.

It screams from the pain of all the horrible bodily fluids and excrements entering its open wounds.  And unable to handle the pain, it goes under and opens its mouth, swallowing as much as it can in a strange act of self mercy killing.

You groan in pain, and realize you can't…but wait.  A tentacle slowly emerges from your body slowly snaking on the stone walkway.  Green glowing liquid seeps off of it and the tentacle crawls…but it twitches as well.

After some straining and braining, you eventually learn you can control it! The rat-man cum and magic ooze must have somehow combined to give you these extraordinary powers!

Your silver tray scrapes across the stone walkway as you grow another tentacle to pull yourself across…uggh, so damn slow.

Some squeaks meet your ears, and you look over, to see several rat-men approaching, armed with rusty swords and spears.  One of them, the apparent leader watches you intently, his paw on resting on the sword sheathed at his side.

Two of the rats approach, one armed with a little club, and another with a spear.  The one with the spear pokes at you a bit, and you see one further back licking their lips.  The leader calls out to the rats in their language, and the one who was poking at you shrugs and seems to dismiss him.  These rats are bothering you, and pose a great threat…but you get an idea.  A way to get more power…
> You eat One
You lash your tentacles forth, one yanking the spear from the rat, and the other coiling around his neck and pulling him closer to you.  As you try to eat him, he squeaks in fear and plants his paws on either side of you, pushing away with all his might.

As he manages to pull away a bit, the other rat leaps forward, slamming the iron end of his mace down onto you.  The cherries and human flesh inside of you splats on the stone, as everything feels fuzzy.  A few of your teeth fall out, and the last thing you see is the rat raising the mace against you for the last time….


Pain…true pain…something stabs at the edge of your consciousness.  No wait…

Your eyes snap open, your shit and filth covered body reverberating as something slams into it…again and again.  As the feces float out of your vision, you are accosted by the horrible sight of one of the beast people!

It's little fuzzy pole jamming in and out of one of the many openings in your body.  Your mouth gapes wide and excretes a foul, smelly, green liquid, covering the Rat Man!  It screams as the acidic taste burns its flesh, and it hops into the squishy log filled waters in an attempt to wash off the liquid…bad idea.

It screams from the pain of all the horrible bodily fluids and excrements entering its open wounds.  And unable to handle the pain, it goes under and opens its mouth, swallowing as much as it can in a strange act of self mercy killing.

You groan in pain, and realize you can't…but wait.  A tentacle slowly emerges from your body slowly snaking on the stone walkway.  Green glowing liquid seeps off of it and the tentacle crawls…but it twitches as well.

After some straining and braining, you eventually learn you can control it! The rat-man cum and magic ooze must have somehow combined to give you these extraordinary powers!

Your silver tray scrapes across the stone walkway as you grow another tentacle to pull yourself across…uggh, so damn slow.

Some squeaks meet your ears, and you look over, to see several rat-men approaching, armed with rusty swords and spears.  One of them, the apparent leader watches you intently, his paw on resting on the sword sheathed at his side.

Two of the rats approach, one armed with a little club, and another with a spear.  The one with the spear pokes at you a bit, and you see one further back licking their lips.  The leader calls out to the rats in their language, and the one who was poking at you shrugs and seems to dismiss him.  These rats are bothering you, and pose a great threat…but you get an idea.  A way to get more power…
> You spit Acid Goop
Your eyes widen as does your mouth, as the acidic vomit leaves your face, the rat yelp in surprise.  Their flesh sizzles as the spear wielders leg burns to the bone, and he falls to the ground.  The other rat holds his face and writhes out in agony before falling still.  You lunge forward your tentacles, grabbing the surviving rat-man of the two and drag him closer.  You munch and chew on him as you fit the whole rat-man in your mouth.

You feel a burst of energy coursing through you, and the silver tray falls out from under you as you gain mass and power.  Smirking evilly you lash out your tentacles once again, growing more as you do so.

You strike one in the face, sending him against the stone wall, his skull cracking against it.  He slumps down in a pitiful heap.  The next one you wrap a tentacle around his ankle and force him into the shitty waters about a foot below him, sending another tentacle down to keep him under.

The leader of the rat-men and his last two appear at a loss as to what to do.  You leap forward, jamming a couple tentacles down one of their throats, and coiling around his wrist to stop him from reaching for his sword.

The leader hops back as you shoot a tentacle around his other friends neck.  Your mouth opens wide, and you gargle some of the green acid before shooting it at the trio.  With surprising speed the leader chops through the one tentacle around one of his friends neck with his rusty sword.  They spin as he tackles him into the fece filled water just in time to avoid the acid!

Unfortunately there was nothing he could for the other rat-man, fortunately for you.  You finish him off, and proceed to consume the corpses.  You watch as the rat-man leader and his only surviving friend stare in horror as they let the current carry them somewhere safe.

You're not worried about them, you have what you need.
> You growth and Revenge
Now that you have grown in power as well as size, it is time to exact your revenge!  Your three potential targets won't be too easy at all.  The first, and perhaps the easiest to get to might be Karstark.  While you will have to worry about his entourage of demons, they don't seem like too much of a threat.  You will have to travel a fair way to the demon infested shit areas of Cystia, but shit, with your appearance they will probably think you are one of them.

The next possible target is Steve.  He shouldn't be too hard to find, especially if you start looking now, before he sails off somewhere again.  Shit, you might even be able to get him and Malk in one fell swoop.  The only thing about him is that he is a tenacious bastard, he will not go too easily.  You've seen his alcohol fueled duels against some of the beast people and other members of the land.

Then there is Malk, who will likely be most on his guard.  You'll have to try and catch him when he is high or drunk, as he won't have too good coordination like Steve.  The issue with him is that if he channels his berserker rage you're probably fucked.  Might have to sneak up on him when it comes time to get your revenge on him.

You sincerely hope none of the other villains get in your way, which is always a possibility.  You will just have to cross that bridge when you get there.

Seems like Karstark will may be the easiest, so you'll start with him.
> You karstark
Well, you'll have to go with the weakest link first.  Besides, he was the only one completely sober when they chopped you up and baked you into a pie.  That bastard.  Being the large sack of pie that you are, you roll your way out of the sewers, careful to evade any of the large groups of rat people looking for you.  You do travel by the sewers though, and the going is easier when you get out of rat territory.

You come across all manner of freaks and beasts in the sewer systems, which span for miles and miles.  A few times you even get someone to guide your toward Lord Karstark's little territory.

Your current guide, some Nuub named Lord Shark points up to a ladder.  Apparently these two Lords have been feuding for a while now, so of course he would be happy to help you!

You're about to make your way up when he holds up a hand.

"Hey, so this ladder should lead right into the middle of his camp, in a not so open place of course," Lord Shark says, "but if you go a little more up that way, there should be a pipe that leads somewhere else in his camp."

Shark looks around before continuing.

"I can't say for sure where it goes but it couldn't hurt to check it out."

"Thanks," you say, "I appreciate the assistance."
> You ladder
You climb up the ladder, open the hatch, and find yourself smack in the middle of Karstark's camp just as you expected.  You look around, several demons are just milling about.  While demons should be inherently scary, they don't seem like anything a human pie couldn't handle.
> You stealth
You decide to play this as quietly as a pie that needs to roll and slither about can.  Somehow, you manage to make it across the fort ruins, evading drunken "patrols" and such.  Rolling past all the tents, you eventually find who you're looking for.

Sitting on an outhouse potty…without the outhouse, is Lord Karstark.  His nose buried in some a story by one, who goes by the name of queenlatifa04, with the lowest rated book, presumably about to be turned into toilet paper.

You send your tentacle forth, stabbing through the shitty (or soon to be shitty paper) and the tentacle slams right through his chest.  Karstark's mouth gapes and quivers.

"Y-y-you….I remember you…" Karstark says.

"I would assume so, you just turned me into a pie," you say.

"That was…months ago…" Karstark says before is head droops down and shpfoooooooouuuutt his legs jerk upwards as his bowels empty.

You remove your bloody tentacle, admiring the sharp end on this one.  You didn't even know you could do that, must have been instinct.  Well, that was surprisingly easy.

You slither off and evade the camp guards once again, making your way back to the sewers.


Its a sunny Saturday morning, you are sitted on the staircase to your home sipping coffee and mulling over the day's newspaper after your routine morning run. Its a your rest day and you plan on tucking in the whole day having had 2 long weeks. Its been 2 years since you left the military and joined the Anti-Terrorism Unit having earned a medal of honor for saving your team from what would have been an overwhelming annihilation from enemy forces in Syria.

Non-military life had its perks-relaxed time frames, more family time, no foreboding barking of commands and best of all a near-predictable life routine. Your walkie-talkie is rested on the floor next to you, just in case there were any alerts on the events frequency.

Just then it chuckles to life as you turn a page on the newspaper.
> You pick up walkie-talkie
You pick up the walkie-talkie and reply "Copy dog patch 6"

"New events have come up that need your immediate presence" replied the voice with an acute touch of urgency

"Errr, I am........."

"Its a level 1 situation, gather your team and get to M&T bank at Queensferry and Seagate immediately over" cut in the voice

You jump onto your feet and run into the house. You dress quickly and run out. As you run out of your bed room remember you have not told your wife that you are leaving.
> You talk to your wife
You run to the kitchen where your wife is cooking. She smiles as she sees you. You quickly peck her on the cheek and you tell her that you have an urgent work situation. She understands and bids you goodbye.

You rush out and jump onto your SUV and pull away from the parking lot in a hurry. 15 minutes later you get to your designated location and notice a number of police vehicles with their hazard lights on. Your team is already on site and awaiting further orders. You alight half running and your assistant Special agent in charge hands you your protective gear and gun. He briefs you on the situation on site and waits for your command. You assess the situation including all exit routes from the building.

The terrorists have held hostage a total of 27 customers and 12 employees of the bank.They demand that a well known terrorist be released or hostages will be executed by the hour. You learn that the terrorists had planned their stay with enough food supplies for 3 days and were not planning to leave anytime. Delaying tactics would not work.

You look at your watch and you only have 4 minutes until the 1st hostage is executed. Your assistants holds the line for the Director National Security Branch, just in case you decide to negotiate.

"We are running out of time sir" He urges

Snipers were in position and the team had also taken the front  and back entrances
> You call Director to release prisoners
You decide that its not worth losing hostages over a single prisoner. Furthermore, it would be easier to trace a group of escaping terrorists running across the country with all the inter-agency resources at your disposal.

You call the Director and he shares your views after assurance of the mission's success. You promise him that you would not let the terrorists escape. He barks vehemently on the phone and lets you know that if they escape you would be answerable.

You immediately call back the terrorists and inform them of the decision to comply with their demands. The terrorists demand that their prisoner be put on a plane to a destination that would be disclosed once the plane was airbound. You make the arrangements and go back to looking at the floor plans.

You notice an underlying old waterway below the building's blue print.

> You inquire about the old waterway
The building was renovated a decade ago and the old waterways were sealed with waterproof cement. It had remained unused for the period of time. The drainage had a diameter of about a meter and led to an abandoned septic tank 3 blocks away.
> You follow up on the waterway
You call your assistant and assign him an assault team of 10 strong. You send them to the septic tank and brief them. The team leaves and lays ambush at the location.

As the second  team drives away enroute to their location they catch a glimpse of a bomb set near the second floor window manned by one of the terrorists and let you know about it. You call your bomb expert and brief him. He examines the location and confirms that it was indeed a bomb. He tells you  the good news  that the bomb had to be manually set off to go off after a 5 minute timed delay.

You wonder whether it is better to shoot the 2nd floor terrorist first and send the bomb expert to dispose it but risk a panic by the terrorist who may shoot the hostages or

Take out the 2nd floor terrorist during the surprise attack and takeover the building without risking the hostage deaths by shooting
> You shoot 2nd floor terrorist first
You decide to first shoot the 2nd floor terrorist and send the bomb disposal expert. A sniper takes out the 2nd floor terrorist. The rest of the terrorists seem not to notice. You send in the bomb disposal expert through a fire escape collumn at the side of the building. He gets to the location and as he attempts to tinker with it another terrorist gets into the room and shoots your expert. Immediately he rushes to arm the bomb and is shot too by your sniper as he runs away. Hostages begin running out of the building but as they run out, an explosion tears the yard around the buidling throwing away debris .

You are thrown away by the force and find yourself in a nearby ditch after a while. You stand up and look around, your ears ringing from the explosion.

Your entire team is wiped out.

You limp towards the entrance of the building to inspect the building. Debris is scattered all over the floor and the hall is obscured by a plume of smoke and dust settling from the explosion. you manage to reach the open vault. It has been plundered with cash bundles strewn on the floor. Its seems the robbers stole what they could carry.

You limp back to the banking hall and notice a hole on the ground but before you approach it you notice your leg is bleeding profusely and tear off a piece of cloth from the debris to bandage the wound. Just then an ambulance parks at the front entrance with its sirens blaring. A paramedic runs into the bank and looks around the bank for survivors that might need help.

He runs back towards you. "You don't look good," he proclaims as he proceeds to examine your leg."You need to go to hospital.'' You barely hear his voice.

Out of confusion you don't say a word. Your ears are still ringing from the explosion. Just then you remember that your second team was laying an ambush at the end of the tunnels. The medic holds your hand towards the exit and you see a police vehicle idling with its doors open. You could easily jump into the vehicle and drive to the ambush site but your leg hurts
> You go to the ambush
You decide that there is unfinished business to attend to. You call a police officer who has just arrived , introduce yourself and inform him that the robbers might have escaped through the tunnel. He immediately gathers a team of 10 officers and plans to enter the tunnel. You get into the police vehicle and drive away towards the old septic tank.

You get there and find a fire fight taking place. The robbers seem to be heavily armed and pin down your officers. Your team is annihilated and taken down. You pick an M16 rifle and join the fight. You tactically try to  delay the robbers from leaving until the police officers in the water tunnels arrive.

You run out of ammunition  and you find yourself surrounded by the 5 masked men. They get to your position but hesitate once they see your face. the leader of the team raises his arm and clenches a fist to command the men to hold fire - special forces style. As you wonder why you are being spared a 5th man emerges from the tunnel and shouts "tunnels are boobytrapped." He screeches to a stop when he notices you lying on the floor like a deer amidst a pack of wolves.

Your eyes meet and for a moment your faces show bewilderment. "Jack? Is that you?" He looks down. The rest of the men peel off their masks.
> You unlikely reunion
"Rohn, Lewis, Sean, Larry and Beck" you muse  as you stand up to regard them.

They were all part of another team of your  special forces unit that had been regarded Killed in Action during a search and rescue mission two years ago in a Siberian bank heist. The discovery finally solved a mystery in which both the team, the robbers and the money were never found.

You remain speechless as the revelation hits you piece by piece. No wonder the heist was executed with pin point precision.

"We don't have time." muttered Jack. He picks a box full of cash and places it at your feet and signals the team to pack off.

You are still in a dilemma as the team leaves you standing and walks away towards a parking lot guns in hand.
> You take the cash and walk away
You decide its too dangerous to pursue the team of  elite ex-military men. In addition you have alot of cash to spend, retire and make  your family comfortable. You pick up the box of cash and walk away towards a taxi at the corner of the block. You get in and travel back home. You count the money and find amounts in excess of 20 million dollars.

You hide your find and head back to hospital for treatment. Your boss later visits you in  hospital and lets you know that a team of policemen spotted the robbers splitting the stolen money near a parking lot. They managed to dispose an explosive devise planted at the scene  and were reviewing nearby CCTV surveillance cameras to identify the culprits.

Your heart beats palpitatingly as you listen to the Special Agent in Charge. The boss is a close friend who always respected you for your professional records. You wonder whether you should confess that you took some money from the team and split the spoils or let the investigation take its course since there was a chance the video surveillance might not reveal his identity at the parking lot
> You confess to the Special agent in charge
You trust your boss and call him aside where you narrate to him the story. He keeps quiet the whole time and asks where the money was.

You lie to him that it was hidden at your office drawer, just in case he did not comply with your suggestion. He immediately summons 2 agents accompanying him to the hospital.

"Place special agent Jasper under arrest until you hear from me" he commands and leaves you handcuffed to the hospital bed.

You ask the two agents to allow you to make a call to your wife and since they know you they agree. You call your wife and you let her know the situation. Fortunately you had told her about the days events and she understands your predicament and stashes the loot elsewhere. The CCTV surveillance reports come out and fails to reveal your identities. The heist team was clever enough to cover their tracks and destroyed the camera a day before the heist.

You are let free for lack of evidence and your boss is fired for implicating a decorated member of the National Security Division.Your retire from the force with full honors
> You 3 months later
You are sitted on your porch sipping coffee and reading your newspaper. Your phone rests on the small coffee table. you pick up the call from a strange number.

"Hi Jasper, its Jack Zulu," ready for the next mission?"


You decide its too dangerous to pursue the team of  elite ex-military men. In addition you have alot of cash to spend, retire and make  your family comfortable. You pick up the box of cash and walk away towards a taxi at the corner of the block. You get in and travel back home. You count the money and find amounts in excess of 20 million dollars.

You hide your find and head back to hospital for treatment. Your boss later visits you in  hospital and lets you know that a team of policemen spotted the robbers splitting the stolen money near a parking lot. They managed to dispose an explosive devise planted at the scene  and were reviewing nearby CCTV surveillance cameras to identify the culprits.

Your heart beats palpitatingly as you listen to the Special Agent in Charge. The boss is a close friend who always respected you for your professional records. You wonder whether you should confess that you took some money from the team and split the spoils or let the investigation take its course since there was a chance the video surveillance might not reveal his identity at the parking lot
> You keep quiet about your meeting with the robbers
You don't trust your boss. He is a stickler for rules and he may report you. You let the incident go and sit there listening to him.The CCTV surveillance reports come out and fails to reveal your identities. The heist team was clever enough to cover their tracks and destroyed the camera a day before the heist.

You recover and go on with your duties in the force to avoid suspicion. You plan to keep a low profile and retire in the next 2 years.