“I’ve got a plan.” Declared King Victor, as he entered the castle’s planning room to find his top soldiers stood around their war table. The human King pushed aside two of the soldiers to see the figures on the map. Small wooden columns of green, red, and blue colour were littered about a geographically inaccurate map of the Kingdom. “What would that plan be, sir?” The soldier’s captain asked. King Victor moved the blue pieces, which represented the soldiers of his kingdom, into a formation resembling an arrowhead. The green pieces, which represented the elves, were all arranged in a single straight line to the west, while the red ones were scattered about the board randomly. “We form our units like this. With the way the elves are positioned, we should have no problem cutting through their army.” The King smiled, confident that his plan was unbeatable. “Then we have our orc allies in red come from behind. While we are piercing through the elven line, they will adopt a position like this,” King Victor moved the green pieces to surround the arrow formation he had made with his blue pieces. “And that will allow the orcs to move up here, and then the elves will be crushed between us.” “An excellent plan, my King. May the gods be with us in this battle.” The soldiers around the table agreed that this was a great plan and was not likely to be beat by their elven enemies. In lands East of Victor’s Kingdom, was a nearly identical castle, with a nearly identical room, with a nearly identical table. The soldiers in this room had slender builds and long ears, and beardless faces with hair that reached the waists and hips of some of the men. They wore little armour, opting for clothing that would allow them swifter movement rather than greater protection. In the Kingdom of Elves, a man in a fine green cape entered the war room. “I’ve got a plan.” He declared to the men gathered around the war table. It had a map of the area, identical to the one King Victor had, but with green, white, and black pieces, in similar positions as what was shown on Victor’s table. “My king!” Declared the tallest soldier in the room. All others quickly turned to kneel before their king, before rising at his request. The elven King Valareth approached the table to demonstrate his plan. “I have no doubt the humans will try to break through our formation. They should form their soldiers something like this,” King Valareth created an arrowhead formation with the white pieces. “And they will advance on our position like this, attempting to pierce through our line.” King Valareth moved his pieces identically to King Victor’s demonstration. “Unknown to them, this will allow us to swarm around their formation and cut into their forces. If the orcs come up from behind us, we will sound the horn that will call upon our dragon friend Galthazar to help us. Though Galthazar is opposed to hurting humans, he will have no problem incinerating the orcs, allowing us to continue our attack.” “What an excellent plan, my king!” The tall soldier declared. “And those humans are sure to flee if they see Galthazar approach! At the very least, I think they will be demoralized and won’t fight at their full strength.” There was no end to the admiration the tall soldier held for his King’s strategic brilliance, though it may also have stemmed from his risk of imprisonment should he fail to adequately worship his king. “Soon, the human kingdom will be ours.” King Valareth had the utmost confidence in his undefeatable plan. He had yet to lose a battle against the humans, and he would not let this be the first time. Elsewhere in the lands, the opening of a canvas tent was forced open by a tall, muscular, and brutal man. If there was a way to violently enter a room, the orc King Varaz would do so every time. Within this tent was a war table, with several chess pieces atop it. The pieces were composed of black stone, pale crystal, and oak wood, each taken from a different chess set. The wooden pieces were scattered around the place, while the black pieces were set in a line in the east, and the crystal pieces arranged as a loose clump on the west. Only the “I’ve got a plan.” The cockney accent and guttural voice of King Varaz silenced his soldiers' discussion. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” Asked the one-eyed orc in the room. It seemed the scar over his blind eye was ready to reopen into a wound whenever frustrated, and after discussing this matter for longer than his patience allowed, he looked as though he was on the verge of bleeding. “The humans are going to approach the elves with an arrow’ead formation.” King Varaz approached the table and arranged the pieces accordingly. “This means that, when the humans approach, the elves will come at them from the sides of the arrow’ead. The humans want us to come in from behind to put the elves between us and the humans, making it an easy slaughter for us. But the elves ‘ad a dragon that they were sure to use, which is why I sent Karnesh’s team to kill the big bloody beast in its sleep two weeks ago. The elves will sound their ‘orn or cast their magic or whatever it is they do to summon the dragon, but it won’t work. This is going to make them panic, get flustered, and make them easier for us to kill. At the same time, the humans might be worried about what’s going on and they’ll panic too, but less so than the elves. Regardless of whether the elves or humans win, the survivors will be easy pickings for us. While all that’s ‘appening, we’re going to have siege teams attack each castle. We’ve kept most of our camps ‘idden from the humans and the elves, so they ‘ave no way to predict ‘ow many of us there actually are out there. The siege teams will attack each castle and bring back both kings alive, and we shall sacrifice them to our Lord of War, Dalbolg, to earn his blessing.” “Wow.” The one-eyed orc was stunned. “I’m impressed, Varaz. I never thought we’d make it this far in the war. When you said we’d ally with the humans I thought it was you were a fool, but you’ve been playing everyone like a war drum.” He knew Varaz was a planning type, but he never thought he’d see this level of tactical genius from him. “Dalbolg has blessed me with a gift of strategy. We must continue to do good by him so that our future generations will live without fear of any elf, human, or dwarf. It’s us orcs who are meant to rule these lands.” King Varaz scratched his bald head. “Declare this strategy to everyone who will be involved in the attack.” After a few days had passed, the time for action had come. The human army formed themselves as planned and marched towards the elves. The hearts of soldiers from each army raced, waiting to see who’s gambit would defeat all the other parties and emerge victorious. Of course, the humans were certain of their victory, and the elves were sure of their own victory as well. The orcs were more than certain. They knew that their victory was absolute . King Varaz had planned in such a way that the other forces couldn’t have possibly predicted, and even if they improvised well enough, Varaz could twist any setback to his favour. The humans and elves never stood a chance. It was quite fitting that they were represented only by pawns on the orc’s war table. The humans soon met the elves. A human commander tried to shout out, offering the elves one last chance to back down, but the elves ignored it as if they couldn’t hear the man, and to move any closer would invite battle. Seemingly devoid of other options, the human army charged forward, piercing through the line arrangement the elves had established. But the elves had accounted for this in their plan, and swarmed around the sides of the human formation to cut away at them from the outside. This prompted an onlooking group of orcs to give the signal to their army, letting them know it was time to join the fray. The orcs came in and enveloped the elves. The elves were now sandwiched between orcs and humans, prompting the elven commander to retrieve his horn. He blew it, alarming the human army, but nothing else happened. He blew the horn again. Nothing. He blew once more, and again and again, frantic and desperate for his unbeatable dragon ally to show up. The blowing sporadically overpowered the clanking of metal and yelling of insults between the armies, until eventually an arrow flew through through the elven commander’s horn and ripped through his mouth. The elven commander fell from his horse, staring at the broken horn before him and wondering where the dragon went. The elves' morale fell just as their commander did. Although they kept fighting strong shortly after their commander was killed, over 10 minutes had passed without the faintest sign of the dragon Galthazar. The elves were losing hope, fearing that the worst had happened to their dragon friend before they even knew. In a moment, the whole of their army lost faith in their king and his strategy. They could hardly believe that their undefeated king was finally defeated, and felt worse knowing he was defeated by humans. With many thoughts racing through the minds of the elven soldiers they could hardly keep up with the fighting that surrounded them, and in short order they had all been slain. Elated by their apparent victory, the humans began to celebrate and cheer until the orcs came trampling over the field of corpses to approach. The humans at first had assumed the orcs wanted to celebrate with them, but the orcs still held their weapons and did not bear expressions of friendship or elation, but instead had the same hostile look they had during the fight. Their faces had not shifted since the battle began, as if the orcs thought they were still in battle. A human commander called out to them. “You need not look so angry, we just won! The elves will surely flee from our Kingdom now, and for your aid, we will-” The commander was interrupted when hit in the face with a rock thrown from an orc’s sling. Several other orcs pelted their human enemies with rocks from the slings they carried, and the remaining humans realized what was happening. The orcs formed a circle around the human army, and with them surrounded on all possible sides by enemies, escape wasn’t an option for them. As the orcs drew closer, they used their swords and axes to hack and slash at the human forces, and eventually, they were as defeated as the elves. Just as King Varaz had planned. The siege of the human and elven castles was unexpected by both King Victor and King Valareth. Both castles were far enough apart that neither could plead desperately with the other for aid. The orcs began their attack by firing upon each castle with a barrage from their mobile trebuchets, and once the walls had been beaten down and the enemy forces were scrambling to form a strategy, the orc soldiers abandoned their trebuchets and marched on foot to meet their enemies. Many of the elven and human soldiers were away from their castles for the earlier attack, and neither group had counted on there being this many orcs within either side of the Kingdom. The soldiers that did remain at their castles fought as hard as they could, but ultimately, they too were defeated by the orcs. The orcs took King Victor and King Valareth, along with several elven and human soldiers, as prisoners to be sacrificed to their war god. The remains of both armies were kept in the dungeon below the human castle until the sacrificial altar had been erected. In the many days that they were confined to the dungeon below the human castle, Victor and Valareth found themselves able to make peace with each other, at least while they had a common foe. During one warm night, while the humans and elves were wrestling and squeezing out what little entertainment they could while imprisoned, King Victor spoke with King Valareth. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “And I’ve got a plan.”


I’ve never liked Lysander City. Something about the crowded streets, the noise, and the blinding lights. It wasn’t my scene. If it was up to me I would never set foot in this urban hell. But certain circumstances had dragged me into its metallic bawls. The rain started coming down hard. I pulled up my coat’s collar and buried my hands into its pockets. I made my way through the crowded street until I saw the blue neon sign up ahead. It pulsed the word ‘Dreamland’. From what Lyrazel’s letter said this was the place where she was being held. I slowed my pace as I approached the entrance. It was guarded by a guy the size of a linebacker. I paid the giant twenty credits for admission and proceeded inside. A short, blue lit hallway led to a front desk where an old man stood. “Welcome to Dreamland,” he said, flashing me a metallic smile. “How may I, Bracer, make your dreams come true?” “I’m looking for an elf woman.” “Ah, we have many of those.” “A mech elf.” Bracer smirked. “We get off on that elf metal, do we?” His mechanical eye dilated. “I think we do have a mech elf. Give me a second to double check.” Bracer disappeared into a curtain that led to a backroom. While I waited for the old man to return I glanced around my surroundings. There were posters of nude women and men of all classes. Human. Spliced. Droid. Elf. Mech elf. The air was stale and smelled of ganja and disinfectant. Somewhere in the distance the echo of a heavy beat played on. The old man appeared again and waddled up to the front desk. “I’m afraid you just missed the last mech elf,” he said. “She’s been taken in for deconstruction.” Jesus Christ, I thought, did that mean upgrade or death? “Is that so,” I said. “Would you mind telling me who’s got her? I’d be very interested in checking out her parts.” Bracer scanned me with his mechanical eye. “You a cop?” “Hell no!” I pulled out my I.D. and handed it to the old man. It said I was a Metal Dealer which was a lie. Edgtho, an old friend of mine, was the best forger this side of the world. He even managed to encase the I.D. in palladium--the trademark of all Metal Dealers. “So you see why I want to see the mech elf.” “This is nice metal,” Bracer rubbed the I.D., and smiled wide. “You see my precious metals.” I nodded. “Noticed them the moment you smiled.” Bracer brought the I.D. to his teeth and tapped it. He handed it back. “Why elven metal?” he said. “It’s the rarest and strongest metal in existence. I could forge so many things with it and make a killing.” I paused. “We could go half and half if you want?” Bracer laughed. “My business with Mister Plume is flourishing.” “Mister Plume,” I said. “Is he the one who has the mech elf?” Bracer nodded. “Yeah. And now you know his name. Which means you’re probably as good as dead. He’s the biggest Metal Dealer in Lysander. He’s not too fond of other dealers. Still interested?” I feigned indecision for a moment. “Y-yeah, I’m still interested.” “It’s your funeral.” Bracer pushed a button behind the front desk. The whole thing opened inward. “Follow me.”  Bracer led me through a smokey room where naked women and men, human and elf, were dancing on a stage. Then we entered a long hall filled with rooms made of paper thin walls. Moans and curses reverberated from every direction. Bracer peered into the diamond shaped window of the doors as we made our way through this disgusting tunnel. Finally, we arrived at an elevator at the end of the hall. We took it up to the penthouse suite. I imagined the penthouse suite of a seedy brothel to be a decadent piece of shit. But to my surprise the penthouse was easy on the eyes. The place was impeccably clean and smelled of champagne and dreams. To my right was a spliced human--a creature with the wings and head of a wasp and the body of a lithe woman. She was playing a soothing tune on the piano. In front of me was a small fireplace crackling by the living room area that overlooked the city. Sitting on the leather recliner was a man in a wool suit sipping bubbly. “Mister Plume,” Bracer said. “This here is--” He turned to me. “What the hell is your name?” “Cade Stahr.” “Mister Stahr,” Bracer gestured with a wave of his hand for me to walk over into the living room. “This gentleman here says he’s a Metal Dealer interested in elven metal. I’ve scanned him, sir. He’s unarmed.” Plume nooded. “Leave us.” Bracer bowed his head and started for the elevator. Plume watched me with furtive eyes as he sipped his drink. “May I interest you in a flute of Tattinger?” he said. I accepted his offer. “I’ve never heard of you before,” Plume said, handing me a flute of champagne. “And I keep myself updated on all Metal Dealers.” “I’m rather new to the profession,” I sipped my drink. It was delicious. “I’ve only recently started up.” “Surely not here in Lysander.” “No, not here. Out in Jersey.” He grimaced. “Ah, the wastelands. Well, I suppose we all have to start somewhere.” He brushed off some dust from his shoulder. “Bracer says you’re interested in elven metal. What makes you think you’ll find that here?” “Well, Bracer said that he had a mech elf and--” “I must have misspoke,” Plume interjected. “What I meant was, why would you come to a brothel in search of elven metal?” I took another sip of the champagne. “Elfheim is far from here. I don’t have money for air travel to get there. So, to be honest, I thought, where could I find some elven metal? And it hit me. A brothel. Best place for me to find an elven whore who I could just knock out and steal her metal parts.” “So your plan was to damage my property and get away with the goods.” “Well, when you put it like--” Plume laughed. “I admire your bravado. That’s something I would have done myself back in the day. Let me ask you. Where do you plan to deal your metal?” “Jersey.” “Excellent. And what about Lysander City?” I shook my head. “I have no intention of stepping foot here. I can’t stand this city.” “Fantastic.” Plume took a large gulp of his drink. “I’ll tell you what. Since I admire your dedication I’ll personally show you my mech elf. And maybe I’ll give you some of her metal.” He smiled. “Keep this in mind. If you *ever* step foot in Lysander City after tonight, I will kill you. Do you understand?” “Loud and clear.” “Perfect.” Plume stood up and walked over to the spliced woman by the piano. She got to her feet when she saw him walking toward her. “Wispa, I’m going to show our new friend here some merchandise,” he said, putting an arm around her thin waist. “But I won’t be long in returning for our lovely evening.” Plume leaned in and kissed her. Wispa’s wings began to flutter. Then he turned to me. “Mister Stahr. Please, this way.” Plume led me to a wall where pictures of him in various parts of the world were hanging. He reached out and pressed down on the frame that depicted him standing on a mountain. The whirring of gears behind the wall began to croak. “Have you ever laid with a spliced woman?” he said. I shook my head. “You must. They are wild. Take Wispa over there. Something about those large insect eyes of hers. Drives me feral. And don’t get me started about that stinger of hers.” A bell chimed to my relief. The wall slid open revealing an elevator. Plume and I stepped inside. He pressed the Lab button. It was a long way down. I only hoped this man wouldn’t tell me some crazy sex story.  I was grateful when we arrived at the lab. Plume didn’t say a word the whole way down. Instead he looked at me with hungry eyes. I couldn't tell what was on his mind. Whatever it was I didn’t like it. Edgtho had briefed me on Plume. From what he told me, Plume was a sadistic and twisted freak. It was a well known fact that Plume had killed his older sister when he was fourteen and desecrated her corpse just to get off. Rumor had it he kept her eyes in a jar somewhere to remind him of the thrill. He instructed me to follow him with a wave of his hand. The lab was immense and devoid of dust. Chrome walls, chrome floors. Light seemed to emanate from the floors and walls themselves. There were computer monitors attached to large glass exhibits that contained various metals. Some of these displayed metals were more art exhibits than storage. There were unicorns made of metal, humans posed in sexual positions, and weapons ranging from guns to swords. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” Plume said. “They’re debuting at the NuMoMA next month.” We continued our way through these exhibits until we came across a glass enclosure that nearly killed me. Displayed here was a woman suspended in the air by chains wrapped around her wrists. Her head rested on her chest. Her long pink hair draped over her exposed breasts. Her pubic area was there for all to see. And her thighs dangled in the air; her mechanical legs rested on the exhibit floor. It was Lyrazel. “God, isn’t she gorgeous,” Plume said. “Her legs are one hundred percent elven metal; indestructible. We’re going to see if we can remove the metallic parts that have been embedded into her head. It’s a tricky process. I don’t want to ruin her beautiful pink hair.” I remained silent. It took everything I had inside me to restrain myself from pummeling Plume to death. Plume chuckled. “Ah, I see the mech elf has you speechless. These creatures are majestic.” He smiled. “Don’t fret. She’s not dead. Mech elves are more radiant alive than dead.” “How long has she been like this?” “A few hours. It would seem you arrived just in time.” “In time for what?” “In time for you to enjoy her before she becomes a permanent work of art.” Plume grinned. “I saw the way you looked at her. You get off on metal, don’t you? My, my, don’t we all have a vice.” He placed his arm around my shoulder. “Tell you what, Mister Stahr. Why don’t I have my boys fix her up and send her to one of my hotel rooms. There you can have your way with her. After, you can tell me what part of her you’d like to take. And we’ll negotiate.” I nodded. “That sounds great.” “Excellent. Of course, you’re willing to pay for her company.” “Absolutely. Name your price.” “I love those words.” Plume said. “She’s a rare specimen. Let’s say five thousand credits.” “You have yourself a deal.” I wired Plume the five thousand credits in real-time. “A gentleman and a scholar,” Plume snapped his fingers. A couple of lab techs came running. “Boys, if you could be so kind as to fix up our Lady Elf here and send her to room 2020.” He paused. “Oh, Mister Stahr, would you like us to sedate her? Mech elves are rough and may not submit to you.” “No. I like it rough. I want her at one hundred percent.” “My boy!” Plume said. “I’m beginning to like your style.” He looked at the lab techs. “Boys, you heard Mister Stahr. Get on it.” He pulled out a keycard from his jacket pocket. “Here’s the key to room 2020. Your Lady Elf will be in to relieve you momentarily.”  In the hour that had gone by all I did was pace back and forth in that damn hotel room. I began to wonder if Plume had seen through my facade and had either killed Lyrazel or was sending an assassin to dispatch me. I hated myself at that moment. I should have killed Plume, I thought, and gotten Lyrazel out of that hell. There was a knock at my door. I walked over and opened it. Standing before me were two henchmen who had clutched Lyrazel by each arm. They shoved her into the room, wished me luck, and left. When I shut the door and turned around I had to duck to avoid Lyrazel’s left hook. “Whoa, Lyrazel, it’s me,” I said, grabbing hold of her right arm. “It’s Cade.” Lyrazel stopped for a moment and looked at me. “Cade,” she said. “Oh, my God.” She threw herself into my arms. “What’re you doing here?” “I came for you,” I said, holding her tight. She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me. Then her warm lips pressed against mine. My entire body felt electric as I held her and kissed her harder. “Wait,” Lyrazel said. “How’d you know I was here?” “Your letter.” “What letter?” “The one you wrote to me.” I pulled out the letter from my jean pocket. Lyrazel snatched it from my hand and read it. “What the hell,” she said. “I didn’t write this. I mean, does this sound like me.” She read the letter aloud. *My Dearest Cade,* *I find myself in serious trouble. I know we haven’t spoken in three years. I wanted to marry you. I did. I was afraid that you’d grow tired of me. That’s why I left when you proposed. I know I have no right to ask you for help. But there’s no one else I can trust. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I am being held hostage in Dreamland in Lysander City. My time is running out.* *Forever Your Love,* *Lyrazel* “Well, I thought maybe time had softened you up.” I said. Lyrazel shook her head. “You didn’t really believe that, did you?” “I guess I wanted to.” Lyrazel smiled. “So, if you didn’t write that letter, who did?” “Oh, I’ll tell you who did,” she said, taking off her moto jacket. She flexed her left arm’s bicep, enlarging the tattoo of the sprite she had. “Pucka, you better get out here right now!” In the blink of an eye the sprite tattoo jumped off her bicep and began floating around in the air. It was nothing more than a glowing tennis ball sized orb of light with wings. “Did you write this letter, Pucka?” Lyrazel said. “I did.” I heard Pucka’s voice in my head. “Why would you do that?” “You needed help,” Pucka said. “And your heart and mind kept thinking of Cade.” “W-what?” Lyrazel blushed. “That’s not true.” “You only lie to yourself.” Lyrazel sneered. “You shoulda just called the cops.” Pucka hovered around Lyrazel. “They wouldn’t have saved you.” “Why Cade?” “He loves you and you love him.” Lyrazel looked at me. “That’s enough of your talk. Time for you to fly back.” Pucka obeyed Lyrazel and resumed its tattoo form again. “Wow,” I said. “Shut up,” Lyrazel said. “I know what you're thinking.” “That I received a letter through magic,” I smiled. “I’ve never received a magic letter. It’s pretty cool.” Lyrazel shook her head. “How long do you think before Plume’s men come to kill us?” “I don’t know. Maybe they’ll give us ten minutes; maybe thirty.” “More than enough,” Lyrazel said, taking off her halter top. She grabbed me, kissed me, and led me to the bed.  Due to his hedonistic nature, it became clear Plume wouldn’t do anything to us until we left the room. Therefore, we took our time to strategize the best way to get the hell out of Lysander alive and in one piece. While Lyrazel leaned on the room’s balcony to take in some air, I couldn’t help but look at her. Her pale complexion, those pink locks, along with her azure eyes and pointy ears. She was as beautiful as the day I met her back in Jersey. Pucka was right. I did love her. And I’d be damned if I was going to let some lunatic cause her anymore harm. I joined Lyrazel out on the balcony. The night air was chilly as it carried the city’s soundtrack of sirens, holographic advertisements, yells, and vehicle horns. “You still planning heists?” she said. I shook my head. “I already reached my quota.” She smiled. “Listen, thank you for helping me.” “You don’t have to thank me.” I paused. “How’d you end up here anyway?” “Wrong place, wrong time,” Lyrazel said. “I was working a job for a guy named Erl--my last job. To kill Plume and steal his metals for Erl. Had I succeeded in it I would’ve reached fifty million credits and been able to leave this city for Elfheim. But Erl had other plans. I didn’t know it then but the asshole struck a deal with Plume. Turns out Plume paid Erl one hundred million credits to own me. When I got here I was ambushed and drugged. Then I was put to work as a strumpet until Plume returned from a business trip in Londinium.” I’d heard of Erl. The criminal kingpin of Lysander they called him. He was found dead in his rooftop mansion a week ago. I told Lyrazel. “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Plume killed him I’m sure. A guy like Plume doesn’t pay anybody. He just takes what he wants. But I’m glad Erl’s dead.” I held Lyrazel’s hand. “When we get out of here I’ll help you return to Elfheim.” I couldn’t believe she wanted to return to her homeland. The last thing she’d told me about Elfheim was that it was filled with elfish pricks with sticks up their asses. And since she was a mech elf--a hybrid designed only for battle--the pure elves treated her like garbage. She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to return there anymore.” She stared into my eyes. “For a long time now I have always made excuses to keep myself from being happy. I guess because I was afraid I would only be a disappointment. The truth is Pucka is right. I love you, Cade. I’m incomplete without you.” She looked at her mechanical legs. “I don’t even know if I have a soul or if I’m just a machine. But what I do know is if I don’t have a soul then my soul starts with you.” “I love you, Lyrazel,” I said, and meant it. “I don’t believe I had a soul until I met you. And the only thing I want in life is to grow old with you.” Lyrazel smiled. “You know elves age much slower than humans, right?” “I’m aware,” I chuckled. “Good job killing the mood.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” We kissed and held each other for some time. Then we got ready and headed out of the room.  We made our way down the hotel hall when we heard the chime of the elevator. Bracer and the two henchmen from before appeared. The old man was unarmed; the henchmen were armed with semi automatics. “Mister Stahr,” Bracer said. “Mister Plume regrets to inform you that he is relinquishing on your deal.” As the old man spoke I pulled out my pen--a souvenir from my last heist. “Are you going to write them a check?” Lyrazel said. “Not quite.” I clicked the pen and its tiny internal gears began spinning and building until the pen had become a full sized katana. “Impressive,” Lyrazel said. “But can it beat this?” She stomped her mechanical foot on the ground activating the thousands of microscopic pneumatic actuators within her elven metal. They rapidly worked in unison to produce two semi automatic pistols from her calves. Lyrazel never failed to surprise me. Those elven engineers were something else. “Clever, Mister Stahr,” Bracer said, grimacing. “And you, strumpet. Mister Plume inspected your legs. No weapons were there before.” “They were always there,” Lyrazel snarled. “Elven metal only works for the elf blooded.” “Good to know.” Bracer smirked. “My turn.” Bracer pulled out a large syringe and stabbed himself in the neck with it. Within moments the old man’s skin had hardened into metal. His entire body exploded in muscle so that he looked like a wrestler on steroids. He roared, and started for us. His henchmen opened fire. Lyrazel shot them both simultaneously in the head. She then fired at Bracer but her bullets were no match for his metallic skin. I took up the Ko Gasumi No Kamae stance. As Lyrazel continued to open fire, Bracer rushed toward me. I waited until he was within inches of me before plunging my blade straight into his heart. The tackle had still knocked me back a few feet and taken my breath away for several seconds. Slowly, I stood up feeling the pain of his hit on my ribs. He’d managed to fracture a few of them. “Cade!” Lyrazel ran to my side. “Oh, my God. Are you okay?” “Yeah,” I said, groaning. “You gave him a death blow.” I looked over Lyrazel’s shoulder and saw Bracer had regressed to his former self. My blade was sticking out of his back. “How’d you pull that off?” Lyrazel said, helping me stand. “The blade was made specifically for slicing through metal.” I said. “I figured if I was going up against a Metal Dealer--” Lyrazel smiled. After I retrieved my katana, Lyrazel and I headed up to the penthouse suite to say our farewells to Plume.  “Ah, have our guests expired,” Plume said, staring out the window. Wispa was pinned up on one of the room’s walls. The sick freak had sliced her throat, clipped her wings, and tore her stinger. Plume was wearing a silk bathrobe and vaping. He turned around. His entire body was covered in welts. “Oh my,” he said, taking a hit of his vape pen. “Looks like I underestimated you two.” He peered over at the corpse. “Things got a little rough.” He chuckled. “I have you to thank for that, Mister Stahr. Your comment earlier really got me going.” “You’re sick!” I said. “Yes. Sick for pleasure.” Lyrazel aimed her guns at Plume. “Any last words before I send you to hell?” “A few.” he said. “My business trip to Londinium was a fortunate one. The Prime Minister of Elfheim was there. He and I chatted. And then he granted me Elven Sanctuary.” “What?!” Lyrazel said, agog. “How the hell did that happen?” “The Prime Minister loves a good pounding.” “You’re despicable,” Lyrazel said. “My dear,” Plume said. “If you open fire on me it would be considered a declaration of war for those in Elfheim.” He chuckled. “Besides, even if you wanted to shoot me you couldn’t. Your weapons are of elven make and will refuse to fire on an individual given Elven Sanctuary.” “You’re right,” Lyrazel said. “Except that law only applies to pure elves. I’m a mech elf; not pure.” Plume’s calm facade, for the first time, wrinkled in panic. “W-wait--” Lyrazel squeezed her guns’ triggers and unleashed a fury of bullets that sent Plume flying out the window. His scream echoed in the night as he plunged toward his death.  We left Plume’s twisted hotel-brothel and walked a few blocks to where I had parked my car in an alley. I started up the ignition. I placed the car into gear and began driving out of Lysander City. When we turned onto the Sunrise Expressway, Lyrazel interlocked her fingers with mine and rested her head on my shoulder. I held her hand tight, and never saw the shadow of ever letting go.


First and foremost, I just need to assert what was right and what was wrong. I think, before you can apologize for things you’ve done, you need to really isolate and evaluate exactly what you did wrong, and it’s very rare that you, uh, you know, haven’t done anything right in the midst of all you did wrong. So, I would like to assert that, yes, I made mistakes. I made many mistakes. I hurt people. Well, not people, but, you know, living things. I hurt living things and I hurt them by damaging their property and terrorizing them, and for that, I am very sorry, and I stand here, humbly, in front of you today, with my tail between my legs--literally--to say that I do apologize for the wrong I’ve done. Not for the right I’ve done, obviously, because I don’t need to apologize for what I’ve done right, and I have done some things right, but I don’t need to apologize for those things. Just the wrong things. Uh, but, uh, yeah, the, yeah, the, um-- The straw. I apologize for the straw. Why you would build a house out of straw in the first place is a mystery to me, but--That’s not my, uh--That’s not the point. The point is, one of you wanted to build a house of straw, and I destroyed that house. I blew it down. Not that it takes much to blow down something made out of straw. A strong wind could have blown it down. A gust. A breeze. You built the house fairly close to the ocean, so I expect there would have been a lot of sea wind coming off the coast, and that leads me to think your house wasn’t long for this world anyway, but sure, yes, I was the one who blew it down, and I have to own that, and so I do. I own it. I own it and I apologize for it. I blew down the house and I was going to eat you, but you ran away. I don’t think I should have to apologize for wanting to eat you, because that’s, you know, my nature , but I get how my nature and your existence don’t jive, and I believe we should all be able to live together peacefully in this world, but I would like to remind you that eating, you know, kale , isn’t really an option for me, and, uh, you know, attempted murder isn’t murder. It’s different. That’s why they have a different sentence for it when you get convicted of it in court. When you do get convicted. Which isn’t often, because it’s so hard to prove. I mean, it’s almost impossible to prove someone’s intent, but, sure, I did attempt something, and for that, I am sorry, because that’s wrong and so is blowing down a flimsy house that was going to come down at any moment anyway because somebody didn’t want to take the time to build their home properly with decent materials. So. I’m sorry for all that. Um. In regards to the sticks , I would like to say that I maintain sticks are only slightly harder to blow down than straw, but there was, yes, an intent there, to blow the house down. And to eat the owner of the house. And to maybe use the sticks to start a fire that I would then roast the owner of the house over while lathering said owner in barbecue sauce. Yes, all of that is true , and none of it is right , and I apologize for all of it. I will say that because I couldn’t catch the owner of the house, nothing happened other than destruction of a fire hazard, but nevertheless, there was destruction. There was trauma. There was hurt. And I have to understand that and make space for it moving forward. That I brought about and manifested hurt in the lives of swine. A fire could have hurt many more people. Not a nice fire that you can control while you cook your dinner, but a real fire that could start at any moment if some pig decided to light a candle in the middle of his twig dwelling, but it’s not about what might have happened, it’s about what did happen, and what happened was I blew the house down. I huffed. I puffed. I got a little winded. I huffed and puffed some more. Down went the house. I own that. I didn’t eat the pig because he ran away, because somehow pigs are terrible at building houses, but they are fantastic at running away from wolves, so that’s fine, he ran, I chased. And, uh, then... Then I hit a wall. A brick wall. We all have to hit that brick wall, don’t we? Finally found a house I couldn’t blow down. But you know what I could blow down? Myself. And that’s what I did. I stood there and with all the breath in my furry body, I blew, and blew, and blew. But I could not blow that house down. And as I sat there, on the grass, the dew still fresh from morning, knowing that breakfast, lunch, and dinner was staring out a window from a brick house, mocking me, taunting me, and jeering at me, I knew I needed to take a good, hard look at my life and make some changes. That’s why I’m here today--not at the end of my journey towards being a better creature, but somewhere in the middle. I’m asking for forgiveness. For the straw. For the sticks. Not for the brick, because that house was built well and I believe it got sold the following year for double what it cost to erect, and so, good on that pig, because he must have gotten the architecture gene his siblings didn’t. Me, I’m just going around to different wolf packs, talking to the pups about making good decisions. Mostly I just tell them to stick to chickens. You tell them the sky is falling, and the next thing you know, they’re walking right into your cave. No houses you need to gather up your breath support for and no riddles like with goats or grandmothers that give you indigestion. Just good, old-fashioned deception. So you see, I’ve learned. I’ve come a long, long way.


Agony glazed his eyes as he stumbled over. His new wound was ugly, a gash through the stomach still fresh, clearly exacerbating one barely much older. “... Jeez.” Already she held bandages and morphine, the smile on her lips fading quickly at his plight. The fall into her arms was unexpected, but she responded easily, clinging back onto him as his arms draped weakly on her shoulders. “That looks... bad...” The white linen was draped over quickly, tightened and secured as blood soon coated them crimson. Morphine loosened the fire that consumed his eyes, and they shut somewhat as he rested his head into her side. “Y... Yeah,” He finally choked out. “I didn’t... expect that one.” The wound seemed to hold as she let go, though she knew it wouldn’t for long. “I... don’t think I’ve seen you this bad since...” “Since a long time ago. Yeah. But we were different people then.” He plucked at her sleeve, the pain dwindling gratefully. “How’re you holding up?” She frowned. Bandages set aside she took his hand, setting it for pressure on the wound. “You’ve got more things to worry about than that.” “Yeah. But... You know I want it that way.” The softness, the vulnerability in his face convinced her. She helped him sit up, letting him gaze at her own injuries. “They’re healing fine. Still... Still bleeding though.” He tested the yellowed fabric carefully, noticing her flinch. “Still hurts?” “I can’t deny that,” She shrugged with heavy shoulders. “Morphine works well on it, thankfully.” He glanced over the rest of her body. Scars and cuts pockmarked the damaged skin, burns thankfully healing with good progress. His cheeks rose as he observed one, the distinctive mark reduced to memory. “Stop that. You must rest.” “I am.” She sighed at the response, offering him another vial of painkillers. They shared this one, and she let him lean against her body. The silence was musical. The comfort of companionship worked its magic, consciousness drifting as the agonies faded, even temporarily. His voice trembled slightly even in secure softness. “This might be the last one, you know.” “Don’t say that.” Her response was flat, a spark of emotion bubbling even with her own voice pacified. He shifted on her shoulder. “You know the truth. The last two were already bad enough. This one may seal my fate.” There was no response. The silence turned heavy till he spoke again. “S--sorry.” “Don’t be. You know what I’d say already.” He did. His hand grasped at hers, warm palm resting on her fingers. She gave him a squeeze as she stared into the moon’s glow. Moonlight lit the sea as they rested, feeling the soft comfort of each other’s backs. ---------------------------------------------- She awakened to a cold touch, blinking tiredly in the morning sun. She rose slightly, staring still into the distance in denial. She let herself take a moment to mourn, slipping his body off hers to lay on the warm sand. She gazed at his face, finally at peace, a smile formed even at rest. Lifting his body in her arms she barely struggled. The bandages and morphine she set on his stomach as she looked for green grounds. She glanced at the newly-gaping hole in her chest, and ignored it as she walked away with him.


I was sixteen when I first realized the aching in my heart that I had for him. He was an enigma to me, a mysterious figure. I was never able to get him alone until that one night - the rest was history. It had been three months since I had last been home; he was all I could think about. Memories of him kept me awake at night, kept me daydreaming during classes. In the bars, I watched my friends slink their way up to men, their eyes glimmering - but I could not bear to even look at another man. It was him - and only him - on my mind. Driving along my old street made my heart beat faster, knowing I was getting closer and closer to that yellow house next to mine. I imagined sitting up in my bed late at night, watching his shadow behind a sheer white curtain through my window. My family embraced me warmly, and I gave them all pearly smiles before carrying my bags upstairs. Once entering my bedroom, I immediately shut the door and ran to the window. Separating the blinds with my fingers, I peered into the house next door. My heart dropped a little when all I saw was the ghastly fluttering of a curtain. That curtain - I knew that curtain so well. In his bed, I’d lie next to him staring up at it, occasionally letting the thin material run through my fingers. Though sometimes in my own room at night, I would see two figures behind it, and I had to look away. Mrs. Holiday was beautiful - but in a tightly-wound way. Her lips were always pursed, her cheekbones always defined, her hair always slicked back in some sort of hair-sprayed up-do. She wore cardigan sweaters a lot, the buttons at the top always undone. I knew he still saw something in her, no matter how deeply he looked into my eyes. It was too late to visit him; she would have already gotten home from work. I imagined the two of them sitting reclined on their sofa, sharing a bottle of wine. Her head was probably leaned into his chest, his hands on her arms, running his fingers along her skin. I did not envy her - Mrs. Holiday. I could never envy her. I suppose I might have pitied her, in a way; someone as beautiful as her still could not suffice him. That night, I sat with my family around the television. They never talked about the Holidays; they never noticed how during years prior I would disappear in the afternoons. I felt powerful with my secret. Sometimes a slight smirk would blossom on my face whenever I thought about him around them, and then I would blush and cover my face with my sleeve. He was my precious secret, too precious to share. I woke up early the next morning. I took my time getting ready, glossing my lips and applying the perfect scent. I crept downstairs quietly, going through the backdoor to avoid any eyes. The dewy grass tickled my ankles, and I was suddenly reminded of the first night we had met. “You’re Mary’s kid, right? I guess we haven’t officially met.” I looked up at the man in front of me. It was as if someone lit fireworks in my chest. I was only sixteen, too inexperienced to flirt, to subtly let him know I was interested, but somehow he still saw something in me, and we talked the entire night. I should have felt ashamed - I know I should have, but the exploding in my chest never ceased, even after I left that backyard party. That was the night I realized that my bedroom window looked directly into his. I approached his door slowly, lingering for a minute at the welcome mat. I saw his doorbell, and I ran my fingers over the brass plate that enclosed the shiny button. There was a fluttering in my stomach as I pressed it. I heard it ring inside, and then I heard slow footsteps get louder and louder. I took the few seconds to smooth down my hair, to tuck a piece behind my ear - just the way he liked it. My heart sunk when a woman answered the door, and panic spread through me when I realized it was not Mrs. Holiday. I had never seen this woman before. Her eyes were gray, her face almost too pale. Neither of us spoke at first until I managed to sputter out a few words, “Is Sam here?” “Sam?” she asked softly. My hands began to shake. “Sam Holiday, he lives here.” The woman’s eyebrows raised, and her lips formed a sympathetic frown. “The Holidays haven’t lived here in over a decade.” She paused, “ You live next door, don’t you? I knew I recognized you.” I shook my head, my mind frazzled. “No, Sam Holiday lives here. He lives here with his wife.” “Oh dear,” she began, “Beatrice moved after Sam passed. Don’t you remember?” “Sam lives here; you’re lying.” She was lying - I knew it. I felt him. He was not dead. He was more alive than ever. “I think you should go.” I began to argue, but she closed the door in my face. My mind was racing - where was he? My feet took me away from the door and back inside my house. I did not bother to keep quiet as I raced into the kitchen and found my mother’s address book. I flipped the pages until I found the H’s. I smiled when I saw his surname etched in black pen; I frowned when I saw the address scribbled out in marker. Underneath was a new one - with only her name on it. I still did not believe it. I had to find him - he was in trouble. I ran back up to my room and opened my laptop. A search of his name led me to his obituary. It was just like the woman said - ten years had passed. I could not comprehend it; I could not understand. She had to leave at some point, I thought to myself. I stared out my window for hours until a car pulled out of the garage. Suddenly, I found myself once again in front of his door, staring at that doorbell. I rang it, expecting him to see his face appear, to see him smile at me, to laugh as I wrapped my arms around his neck. But he did not appear - no one appeared. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I walked around the side of the house, my hands tugging at every window. Finally, I got to the back porch. The screen door easily opened, and I found myself on his patio. I smiled when I saw the unlocked sliding door, and smiled even more when I stepped inside, the memories of the house filling up my mind. I found his bedroom; I felt a sense of relief when I smelled his scent. How was I smelling it? He had to be here. His bed was right where I remembered it, and I let myself sink into the soft mattress. The sheets looked a bit different to me, and I could have sworn that he had a beige comforter, not the red one that was beneath me. The bed also seemed smaller - it was definitely smaller than I remembered, but then again, so much time had passed, so I dismissed the oddities. I leaned back against his pillow and shut my eyes. I did not even flinch when he walked in the door. “I missed you,” I said to him. “And I missed you, love.” He always called me love. He did not waste time coming over to me, falling onto me, kissing me gently. I smiled when he pulled away and stared into my eyes. “She said you were gone. I didn’t believe her.” “Who said I was gone?” He rolled over on his side next to me, a concerned look spread across his face. “The woman that lives here,” I said. “Why would my wife say that?” I shook my head. “No, it was not your wife.” He was silent. So was I. “Sam,” I said after some time had passed, “why do you have an obituary?” His eyes were piercing in that moment. I almost felt afraid - almost. I loved him too much. “Nothing is real,” he whispered. “What?” He spoke a bit louder: “Nothing is real!” “Stop talking like that, Sam! Stop!” I yelled. Even when the pillow came down on my face, I still had no fear. Even when his screams became louder, I still had no fear. Even when the gray-eyed pale woman came into the room and began yelling, I still had no fear. Fear could not touch love. There were too many shouts to comprehend anything, so I buried myself deeper into his sheets. When the sirens started, and the room became blue and red, I became one with the bed, clinging onto a memory. As they carried me out, I saw Sam standing outside on the curb. No one saw him, no one talked to him, no one paid any attention to my love. “Sam!” I called out. He looked away.


If I had a nickel for every time someone in my life was killed by a stray bullet, I would have 10 cents. That’s not a lot of money, but it is strange that it happened twice. The first time was 7 years, 214 days ago. It happened to my friend Savannah. We’d smoked a little bit of weed I picked up from a dispensary before I wanted some snacks and she wanted some cigarettes. I was indifferent to the cigarettes but I did want something salty so we walked over to the 7-11 by Belmont Station. I had a bag of corn chips in my hands and I was bent over slightly to peruse their selection of mints and chocolates as we checked out. She was asking the clerk for a pack of Camel Crushes when the sound of broken glass rang through the store. I looked up and saw a blank expression on her face, followed by a few steps forward, then she keeled over with a soft thud. She was dead before I could react. As her soul left her body, my mind was still trying to choose between Pretzel M&Ms and Sour Patch Kids. Everything that happened afterwards was a blur. To this day, when I recall the events of that night, the only thing that makes sense to me logically was that we would finish paying for our snacks, light up a cigarette for the walk home, smoke more weed and make hot chocolate and watch reruns of Housewives together. Unfortunately, logic is not always reality. Between the police report, the followup interviews, the funeral, her cousins, her brother, her mom & dad, there was only chaos in my life for 3 months. I only unblacked out briefly when I went back to her apartment with her brother and noticed that there was an un-empty pack of Camel Crushes sitting on her coffee table. Her death put us face to face with the chaos that lurks just behind the facade of a peaceful, inebriated afternoon. Savannah is a beautiful person. Funny, charming, irreverent, goofy, campy, loving, Savannah. It felt so unfair. Too quick, no recourse, no bargaining. It seemed like there was no one out there. It felt like as long as we live, random messed up stuff just will just happen *at* you, not to you. I accepted this randomness as a credo to help power through the rest of life, in honor of her. Thankfully I had a supportive partner who stuck by me throughout all of the mourning and a trauma-informed therapist under my parents’ insurance. We moved out of the city and into a small cabin by a lake in Ohio in order to live out a monastic lifestyle. We had our own garden, a few pets, and each other. They kept me intact, appreciative, and I was able to carry on. That is, until it happened again. It took about 15 minutes before I even realized what was happening. I was in my office, drinking tea, keeping up the appearance of being busy. He was in the living room taking an afternoon nap. I stepped out of my office to the sound of labored breathing, the sight of a small hole in our wall facing the lake. In contrast to the first time, this time was noiseless, slow moving. As soon as I saw the patch of red spread across his shirt, I was agonizingly aware of everything that would happen from here on out. When I held his hands and looked into their eyes after calling 911, his face was so apologetic, like he wanted me to know that they knew the sharp turn my life was about to take yet again. All I could do was hold him and cry. Whoever said that lightening never strikes the same place twice has obviously never been the punchline to God's fucked up sense of humor. I noticed that every time I stand next to someone, I want to align my head with theirs exactly, bending down when they bend down, tilting to the left when they tilted to the left. I’m not sure if I do that to protect them or to guarantee that next time a random bullet arrives, I’ll be in its trajectory too. Nowadays, I just avoid people altogether. I can’t handle the guilt any more. Even being around other people felt like I was bringing them to a magic show against their will, putting them at risk of being pulled onstage and belittled by a 40 year old man in a top hat. No one ever faced consequences for either deaths. Like a good joke, the original creator doesn’t matter. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve witnessed someone in my life be killed by a stray bullet, I would have 10 cents and several therapists to whom I’d have to rehash a story where the takeaway is not my trauma, or how much miss my friends, but a kind of novelty; a cruel glitch in the matrix type situation. I still stay in the house where they died. On foggy mornings, I look out across the lake, and I’m looking directly at his killer. There’s a few things I know will happen again, but I do not cower. I do not fear it any more. I know for the next sick joke, I will not be the butt of it. I will stare God in the eyes and I will laugh along.


"It's just yesterday. What's the worst that could happen?" I shook my head with a smile as I reached cautiously towards the time machine sitting on the table. Next to me, Rex gasped and grabbed my arm. "Wait! But what if you like, mess up the space time continuum and cause the apocalypse or something?", he asked, eyes wide. I suppose I couldn't blame him for being scared. I probably would have been too, if my judgment wasn't clouded by one thing. "Please. That sort of thing only happens in movies", I scoffed. "I have a plan. It'll be fine". Though my voice was filled with bravado, even I felt a small chill creep down my spine, but I pushed it out of my mind as I ignored Rex's words and pushed one of the buttons. With an otherworldly sound that seemed almost like an angelic mixture of a jingle and a zap, the machine blinked to life, sparks flickering off the wires, and colored buttons flashing. Rex and I watched, wide-eyed. Even as Rex's nails dug into my arm painfully in fear, I punched a few buttons, and WHOOSH! There I was. Just yesterday, like I said. With the faintest of thuds, I landed in my own hallway, the day before, at noon. I'd been cursing my foolishness ever since. I was working on an important research project, and my sleep-deprived brain, exhausted from yet another night at the lab, was on coffee number ten. I hated coffee. I rarely drank the stuff. Oh, why, WHY hadn't I just accepted my limits and taken a nap instead? Oh well. You know what they say about hindsight... In my sleepy stupor, I'd managed to take a sip, and both spill it and choke on it at the same time. The immediate searing pain of hot coffee all over my boobs, immediately followed by the exponentially worse mental pain of seeing my laptop, which contained months of research and writing, that I'd just spit coffee all over, die. I thought my life was over. Then we found it. My saving grace. I'd seen the movies and read the books. I knew it was risky. I knew you couldn't let yourself see yourself. I didn't even want anything complicated. I'm not one of those dicks with a hero complex who felt the need to go meddle with history or anything. I knew if I tried to go back and kill Hitler, I'd fuck it up. But come on, nothing major was riding on my failure. Which is what I'd be if I didn't fix this. I'd already planned it through. Hearing the sound of the chair creaking from the kitchen, I knew yesterday's me was getting up to go get that fateful cup of coffee. I crept down the hall and stuck a foot out, just in time to trip myself as I walked back towards my work table, holding the cup of coffee that would have been my poor laptop's downfall. Yesterday me tumbles to the floor with a cry, and the hot coffee splatters harmlessly to the floor. As the WHOOSH begins to sweep me back to the present, and I'm pumping my fist in victory, I see a bruise has now appeared on my knee. Hah. Small price to pay! ... THUD! I land on my knees, and they immediately sink. What the fuck is wrong with my living room carpet, I found myself wondering as I awkwardly blinked. I shielded my eyes. It was awfully bright... "Rex, can you close the curtains? And did you turn the heat up while I was gone? I'm melting here..." BOOM! It was a small explosion, but I was thrown onto my back. All around me was nothing but rock and sand, with fires burning in the distance. The smell of sulfur pierced my nose. Was that... screaming in the distance?! For a moment, I was shellshocked. This couldn't be real. It didn't sink in until I saw the source of the screaming. It was Rex, and he was being chased by some sort of feathered, horrific, lizard-creature, waving what appeared to be an iPhone that was shooting fire. Rex screamed even louder as the monster closed in. His screaming was finally loud enough for me to make out the words.


Kyle Hunter, a Starbucks barista in his thirties, decided to take a break and go hiking on his day off. He felt that his life had not gone as planned and that he needed to clear his head and gain some perspective. Kyle had never gone on a hike before, and thirty minutes in, he had become completely lost, had neglected to bring enough water or food, and had forgotten to apply sunscreen. Several hours later, exhausted from the heat, starving, and with skin the color of a tomato, Kyle was ambushed by a man wearing a Mike Myers mask and driving a black van. He was blindfolded, bound, and thrown into the back of the van. The van smelled like Fritos and feet, and Kyle knew he was in trouble. He was taken to a dingy and dark basement, where he was held captive with no end in sight. Kyle could barely see anything because of the terrible lighting. He was given a cot to sleep on and a bucket to use as a toilet. He was fed meager meals and given no information about why he had been kidnapped or who his kidnapper was. "I'm not sure what you want; I have no money, I'm bad at sex, and maybe if you set a ransom of twenty NFL bobblehead dolls and a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon, my dad might pay; but it's a longshot," Kyle cried into the darkness, receiving no response. Kyle began to break down and accept his fate as the days passed. He assumed he would never be found and would spend the rest of his life in that basement. The kidnapper, wearing the Mike Myers mask, entered the basement one night. "What the hell, man? Are you ever going to let me go?" "Within time." "What do you want?" "I think the most important question is, what do you want?" "I want to leave." "Think bigger, Kyle. What do you want out of life?" "Who are you, my therapist?" "If you need to think of me as your therapist, that's fine." "Man, f--- you; I'm not telling you anything." "I'll leave you with this; if you didn't have any worries, money wasn't an issue, you had health insurance, and you could do whatever you wanted, what would it be?" Kyle continued his day-to-day waiting after the kidnapper left the basement. He had never considered his life's problems in that light before. With nothing to do but exercise and think, there was no shortage of time to reflect on this question. "Do whatever I want? If I didn't have money problems, I'd do... nothing," Kyle thought to himself. "I guess that's what I'm doing now, and I don't like doing nothing." Kyle, in fact, had no idea. He considered traveling but remembered how much he disliked staying in hotels and unfamiliar places. He considered playing video games all day and night, but he had already done that, and after a marathon night, he felt deep down that he was wasting his life. Sure, it was fun to spend time with friends, but after a game was completed, nothing of value was added. He then reasoned that friends were the key, but as he examined further, he realized he was sometimes introverted. Socialization was enjoyable in tiny doses, but he would be unhappy if he had to do it all day, every day. That night, Mike Myers returned. "Have you thought about my question from yesterday?" "Yeah, I'd do things that make me happy." "What would that be?" "I'd do a lot of different things; I'd stay up late, I'd sleep whenever I wanted, I'd have complete freedom." "Freedom? Given your current situation, that's an odd word to use. Do you want freedom because you don't have it, or are you not allowing yourself to be free in your own life?" Kyle realized the truth when Mike Myers left the basement that night. He wasn't talking about his freedom from kidnapping; he was talking about his desired freedom in his life. "How could I not be free?" Kyle considered the concept of freedom. What did it look like? Who did he know was actually free? Who did he strive to be? Night after night, Mike Myers and Kyle had these conversations about life, purpose, and what Aristotle described as Sublime Beatitudo. Kyle finally had an answer to the original question after seven months of examination, reflection, and conversation; if money were no object, he would... It would be very easy to tell you what Kyle discovered, but I would be doing you a great disservice. Some answer this question with spirituality or charity, while others use philosophy, art, or scientific endeavors. Some seek to find answers to the larger questions about life, human existence, and the universe while others desire power and influence not only to benefit others but also to be remembered and leave a legacy long after their lives are over. There is no definitive or universal answer, so you have to find your own purpose by doing the work. As Mike Myers promised, the day had come for Kyle to leave. He left a more substantial person than when he was originally kidnapped; he better understood life's aspirations, what it meant to be healthy, and what potentially may be his path to happiness. Kyle was blindfolded, bound, and thrown into the back of the Frito/Feet van once again, where he was taken to an undisclosed location. Upon his release, Mike Myers handed him a credit card. "This is a gift. It has no limit, will never be declined, and no bill will ever be sent." Kyle was finally free, and not just from the dark basement where he had been held captive.


Slice of Life style OC Critiques are welcome “SAAAAM! Get ready! Everyone is going to be here soon.” “Relax mom, they are still an hour away!” It’s her who needs time to get ready. Well I can’t blame her, everyone just projects their experiences onto others. Strange thing this evening! I know another year has passed but I am excited about it, despite the firecracker ban. A large chunk of the family gets together at Diwali. Being an annual occasion, it gives them enough time to accumulate exciting stories. So many surprises. No awkward nod or blank stare this time of the year! “Oh wait it’s 10 minutes now. Thank god I already had a shower.” I am an atheist though. You see, I... NO. STOP... Imma get ready now. Well I enjoyed the evening. I wish I didn’t have to get an year older every time for this. I got a bit jealous when I found how mature my younger cousins have become after a year. I know, I know, I got mature too. But I don’t realize it. No shock value, you see... until someone prompts me to compare... which I just did... not jealous anymore... cool. I miss the cold climate of North India. Quilts are so snuggly. Tomorrow... is it post 12? yeah... tomorrow I’ll be in Bangalore. Same pleasant climate all round the year. The only variation past the round-robin of round-neck tees I need is a raincoat. Huh... Hmm... \*breathes in\* No matter which bedroom, ceilings are the same... staring into your soul... blank Memes... Hmm... Tomorrow I’ll lie the same... but on a different mattress... same ceiling... different feeling?? I wonder... \* \* \* At the airport, I was looking through some of the top pictures in various photography contests (Nat Geo, etc.). The shots were (and are) awe inspiring! On first sight, some of the pictures triggered a mix of emotions in proportions I had never felt before. “Weird.” How can something so real make me feel something so unreal?! This is probably the only time in my life I would feel this specific mixtures of feelings in tandem. Moments later, it was gone; and I had no memory of that exact feeling. I could remember that it felt really good, perhaps even ethereal. Even if I had the exact words to describe the emotions, they can’t make me feel them. I look at the picture again... mesmerizing! But no surprise. Everytime I look at the picture, it becomes more and more commonplace. I panicked and closed the tab. “It’s a goddamn paradox!”. Since I can’t store the feeling, I have an unfulfillable and unrealistic heavenly memory of it... but I can’t FEEL it! If I revisit to feel it, I don’t feel nearly as good, with the quality of feeling and its memory deteriorating after each visit. “What should I do to feel that way again?!”. Even waiting a year won’t work here! Apparently, sometimes, I think out loud without realizing it. The puzzled look on the lady’s face sitting beside me made it worth it though. I might only be able to wish for a level of control over my mind that I can experience feelings resembling surprise and happiness in the most commonplace of things. But I know it’s possible. Experiencing the moment without actively remembering what happened a few seconds ago or what’s gonna happen a second later... you know the herb. “Why do I want to feel that way again, and again, you ask?! It’s so that my day doesn’t feel like a couple of hours... so that I don’t make new year resolutions every month.” One more potential female partner... whoosh! But I know it’s possible... For instance, right now... right now... right now... I am enjoying my blank ceiling, listening to Lo-Fi, full of repetitions. Right now... The feeling of calm is similar to the calm during my previous noticing of the ceiling. Well...now, not the same calm. Youtube’s autoplay isn’t really reliable. It’s playing rock now.


I used to think I was middle-class. Then I saw this statistic that said I'm in the "one percent". Now I'm all confused. I really thought that was only rich people. What I mean is, I didn't think I was rich. I didn't think I was a capitalist. The way I see it, the bad thing about being rich is that it means now you're exploiting the poor people. I don't want to exploit anybody. I didn't think I was, to be honest. What I mean is: I want my relationship to poor people and normal people to still be very genuine. That's why I've made a plan: I am going to love everybody in the world, like a Christian. I've been trying that for a few weeks now. The problem is, it's impossibly hard. Well, part of the problem is that I'm lazy. I keep meaning to get a Bible to figure out the details. But I know the important part is loving others. If I can get that down, I know I can maintain a harmonious relationship with humanity. But the solution? It's tricky. I sit by my pool and think about everybody I know and try to love them. I start by imagining my parents. I picture the love like it's pink and coming out of my heart. It doesn't really work. The thing is, they weren't really lovable (I think that probably isn't a Christian thought). I try to imagine my friends but by then I'm all addled, thinking about my mother hitting my ear and how it would ring forever. I can't think about love, I just think about my bad ear. Then I think I should start over, start with somebody without all the baggage. I imagine a stranger. I should probably imagine all sorts of people but I always imagine the same stranger. He runs a convenience store in Germany and he's an immigrant. He has two daughters who make fun of him even though he works very hard. He dotes on his wife and when he sees beautiful women he looks away. He is fifty but he looks young. I imagine this man and I think he has a good soul. I'm ready to start loving him as a representative for humanity. I imagine my love coming out pink from my heart... But it doesn't happen. I respect him. I respect his values. I don't love him. It's all very frustrating. I suppose I could pay a priest to come over and explain how to do it. But honestly, I bet I don't have the money for it. That's part of what's so confusing. I thought being rich would mean having more money. I feel selfish just saying that. Do you have any ideas? I try sending my love every night before bed and it makes my head all fuzzy. I'm not that good at work anymore, I'm too worried about how I'm exploiting the proletarians. To be honest, I think I might get fired soon, and then I suppose I'll be in the bottom one percent. Won't that be ironic! Anyway, I don't expect you to have solutions. Just please send me your love.


(WP) Everybody Wants to Rule the World She didn’t remember much about being human, but she remembered love, or at least, the echo of it. That warmth that climbed into an almost unbearable heat, that all encompassing desire that resulted from a smile from the other person. But to even think of it was like trying to remember a dream after you awoke; there were a few key details, but it was so blurry that she didn’t like to think of it. It had been centuries since she’d been human, and anyway, what was humanity in comparison to godlike power? Now, she was uncontrolled, accountable to only herself. She’d crushed civilizations like dust in her fingers, collapsed societies with a flick of a wrist. But these memories, distant as they were, were a reminder: Though she wasn’t human anymore, she wasn’t unstoppable. Not completely. There was a way to control her, and invoke her power, but she would be damned all over again if she was going to let anyone control her for anything. She was a demon, true, but she still had free will. Many had tried to seduce her, claim her, but none had come close. Until now, when a man and woman stood in the chamber in which she’d died, reading an incantation that was older than time, compelling her essence into their plane of existence. As strong as she was, she could not ignore such a summons: Dissolving into glittering, navy smoke, she found herself trapped within a bright red circle, its corners etched with shining demonic runes. The pair outside of it exchanged bright smiles, manic in their victory. “I told you it would work! Her Dark Unholiness, The Demoness Who Shatters Worlds, Temperance! We summon you here!” How ironic was it, that her name was fucking *Temperance* and she was one of the universe’s most powerful forces of evil? It was beyond ironic; it was pathetic. If she ever found the unlucky demon who’d unearthed her human name, she would disembowel them and use their guts as garters. Taking a lithe human form with dark skin, long black curls, and scarlet eyes, the color of rage and blood, she tilted her head to the side, studying the pair who’d dared brave her presence. “What do you humans want? I’m not immune to flattery, of course, but you must know you cannot hope to control me.” “That’s not what the book said,” A woman’s voice broke through the haze of smoke, calm and more than a little arrogant. “The book said that there was a way to control you.” Temperance said nothing, keeping her face impassive. This wouldn’t be the first time a couple of reckless, curious humans found the book that detailed her birth, powers, and weakness. But she wasn’t about to give them the answers. They should’ve thought of that before demanding she come here. “The book said,” The woman continued, smiling wickedly, “that we had to make you fall in love to control you.” Where was the harm in letting them try? No one had ever succeeded before.


Im 13 and this is an introduction to my Zodiac novel. Midnight. A serene nocturne that could be ruined by the quietest of noises, though I don't doubt I will ruin it. It's not hard to stay quiet when a car's engine is humming right next to you, but it's when it stops that I really get exhilarated. It's adrenaline for me, and it feels more interesting and all the more satisfying when I'm finished. I had seen them before, though I never got names from their principals or teachers, perhaps it was my demeanor, or maybe the knife slung from my hip. They annoyed me, they were the most infuriating kids, rich and braggarts with parents whom I despised even more, but the death of the children would bring more publicity. They were talking, loud I might add, it almost felt too easy, and it was. I wanted something fun, not easy, and the only way to make it hard was to make noise. I pulled the knife from my hip and pressed it against the car door and slid it down to the back and waited with my hand on my pistol. The engines humming came to an end and nervous talking preceded it. The door opened and shut with a click and I heard one set of feet marching through the muck, which wasn't good. I prefer to be clean and swift and if I shoot one of them, the other will notice. I slid to the other side of the car and crawled to the nearby ditch to hide when he came back around. He started to laugh nervously and walked back to the driver seat. I was angry now. I had missed a chance to kill him and I wasn't going to wait much longer, so I crawled to the front of the car and listened. I soon heard them kissing and realized it was my time. I stood up and saw them kissing and I thought to myself for a split second, though to me it felt like an hour. Why am I not like this? Why didn't I get this life, did I not deserve it, did they deserve it more? No. I was deprived of that life, and I didnt care whether it had been done by a God or society, all I knew is that they didn't deserve it, so I would take it from them. I shot him first, in the neck and saw I had hit a vein, lucky shot. She began screaming so I shot her, It had only lasted 7 seconds, but the screams resonated with me, they made me feel like I had a purpose. Like I was sent to kill those unworthy of their own lives, and I was only getting started. I took the phone from the dashboard and dialed 911 and said, “Hello, I just killed 2 people at Lake Herman, so send some help. Goodbye.” I walked away and looked back at my art. The blood splatters were almost perpendicular, the glass had broken and it was lying on the dashboard like salt. The couple was dead eyed and their mouths were wide, while he had some lipstick smeared on his lip. I glanced at the lake in front of me and saw symbols moving through the water fluidly like fish. I felt drunk on adrenaline and ran back to society where I was just another average lemming, but I was anything but average.


Hell, a beautiful place filled with lava and it's vengeful heat and demons like us chained in pain. The sky is as red as blood flowing through the veins of hell as lava fuelling life for the creatures that dwell here. Agony and pain wherever you can see, we are trapped here as long as the sun lives, crying for freedom, but there is no escape. There is no hope at all, nonetheless we kept trying to break our chains, and one of us did manage to escape. We were hoping he would free as all, but he came back with nothing but loss. "I am sorry..." Dingy whispered embarrassed by his loss. "How did it happen?" Buer asked in a desperate voice. "Downspring was his name." "A human sent you back?" "Yes..." "Haha, he got his ass beat up by a human," Doyle laughed. "He's not a regular human, and he wasn't alone." "What do you mean?" Buer asked in a curious tone. "He had a Corphelian with him." "A Corphelian in earth? You sure?" "Yes... He was the one that controlled my powers and threw me up before they sent be back here." "Umm..." We had nothing to say, nonetheless we got another chance, but it's our last hope of getting freedom, and even our best member couldn't make it, So we have to plan and choose wisely, elderly demons were in deep discussion about this. "I honestly thought Dingy would free us all," my friend Pam commented. "Well he didn't," I replied with a sigh. "Yeah... And now we got only chance left." "Tell something new." "I know how to use the portal." "What?" "The portal, I can open it for us to escape." "You kidding? Only one person can go." "I know." "And it's our last chance, and you aren't strong enough for this." "That's why, you are gonna do it." "Stop joking around, why would I do it? To get blamed for wasting our last chance to escape?" "No, you are gonna do it, because I dare you to." "Seriously?" "Yes, I dare you to escape to earth." "Well, you sure? I won't be here to get blamed, if things go wrong, but you are gonna be here." "Well, what's worse than hell, I will manage, now I need your help to steal the portal device, and once we have it, I will send you there." "Fine my friend, it won't be much of a difficulty." So, I stole the portal device in ease, nothing much to say about it. "Wow, you are so sneaky." "Yeah yeah, I know. Now, open the portal, fast, before they find out it's missing." "Don't worry, I will open it, just stay back, while it opens, it runs on huge power." "Oki doki friend." He said some Latin words, which I didn't know, and it began to open and started emitting bright blue light. "Thank you friend," Pam said with a cunning wicked smile. He started running towards the portal only to be pulled back in a jerk by his chain. "You thought I was that dumb?" "You-" "I mean, thank you friend." I threw him away and walked towards the portal, I felt the freedom waiting for me on the other side, a new open world. I looked back at my "friend" and saw demon soldiers coming towards me, "Goodbye hell," I whispered before I stepped inside the portal. A second later I saw myself standing on a wooden floor. Yes! Finally! Something other than lava floors! I felt the nourishing air, not the dull hot air like in hell, this place had a different aura, a good one. Suddenly I realised I can't be in this form, I needed a human form, I need to find someone, I walked around the little room, and I sensed something moving in the bed. It was a little girl covered in blanket, sleeping peacefully. I moved my hand towards her and slowly touched her head, and whispered, "Da mihi identitatem." My giant hands began to shrink and turn from black to pale, I felt myself becoming shorter and within seconds I was a little girl. "Thank you," I whispered as I patted the girl's head before I took my leave from the room. I climbed down the stairs and was greeted by an old woman. "Good morning Sara dear! Wow! You woke up early today." "Ahem... Can I get some water." "Sure, why are you asking? It's always in kitchen." "Ah, I forgot, sorry." "Aw, dear, you must be sleepy." I slipped into kitchen, the window was wide open, I looked back. The old woman wasn't looking at me, I jumped through it and landed the other side on grass. I gently brushed my palms through the green grass, it felt so soft, so good, I don't how to say, I have never touched a plant before, it was something new, something delightful. In front of me was a road with a lot of cars and bikes I have never seen before, colorful and effective. And houses all along the black stretch of road. I looked up, it was blue! Yes! The sky! The sun and his clouds were like king and his soldiers guarding the sky. Damn, how I missed out all of these, I was so happy to be free. "I AM FINALLY FREEEEE!" I gave a scream of joy as I danced through the grass and walked my way while singing my way with a happy smile throughout my face. Pedestrians I met on the way were confused by my glowing face with a never ending smile, "Have a good day sir!" I smiled at everyone. "You too Sara! You seem very happy! Is there a reason you could tell?" "I am free! ah- I mean today is a holiday!" "Oh, good for you! Enjoy your holiday! So glad to see you this happy." I smiled and walked away. I realised I shouldn't hang anywhere near where they could recognise "Sara." So I took a ride to another city, a few miles away. On my way I admired everything on my sight, a beautiful lake, fields of corn and scarecrows, everything, just brought me so much happiness. The bus came to a stop. The fresh air brushed past my hair. While everything was so pleasant, suddenly I felt a touch in my shoulder and I looked back in reflex. "Hello there!" It was a boy in the same size of the girl, who's form I took. "Hi?" "Well, my name is Brandon, and I love singing." "Cool. But why are you telling me this?" "Umm-" "Sorry, I got other works to do, bye." "Wait!" "What do you want kiddo?" "Well, do you see them?" he pointed a bunch of boys standing on the other side of road. "Yes. What's with them?" "They dared me to speak to you." I smiled, hiding the laughter. Well, I was here only because of a dare. "Well, you did a good job." "Thank you! Have a great day!" "You too!" The boy crossed the road and joined his friend on the other side, I smiled at them and continued by exploration. Malls, parks, movie theatres, restaurants, tall buildings and colonies of houses, wherever I went there was something fascinating. Soon, it was noon, and thinking about how much I have seen in so less time was just mind-blowing, and thinking how much I could see if I live here for the rest of my life, made me overjoyed. While I was involved in my beautiful thinking inside an air-conditioned mall,I suddenly heard a scream. I looked around and saw a man with a gun holding a lady in his hands and pointing the gun at her head. "Give me all the money! Or I shoot this lady!" All the humans inside started to panic, he went to the cashier and repeated the words. She opened the drawer and he gave her a bag to fill up. "Ahem-" I stood up. "What do you want little girl?" "I want you to leave her, ask sorry and go away." "Oh- I am scared, please forgive me." he began mocking and laughing. "That's a terrible one," I said as I pounced on him pushing him to the ground. "What the hell-" "Oh little man, are you scared?" I held his neck by my hands and gave an eerie stare at his eyes, eyes that were frightened to death from what he saw inside me. I signalled the lady to move away and so she did. "Leave me! Save me! This is a monster!" I punched his face once, I loved it as he spitted blood and cried in pain, I couldn't stop it, I punched again, this time his teeth broke out, I raised my hands for another punch when suddenly I felt something holding my hand. "Enough," A boy in purple suit was holding my hand. I stood up from the man and turned to the boy, he stared at me. "Is everyone ok?" "Yes! We are alright!" Everyone started to cheer and surround him. "Good, the cops will come soon and carry him, I will go now, have a great day y'all!" "Can I get a selfie?" ,"Autograph please?" ,"Wow! It's Downspring! Hi!" People loved him, I could see. Well, he's the human that Dingy told about, that sent him back to hell, I was in alert. "Come with me," I heard a voice and felt a hand holding wrist, I looked at his face, it was a classic teenager boy, I realised who he was from the way he held my hand, and so I went with him. We went to an empty space in the parking lot. "Now tell me, who are you?" "I- I am-" "I know you are a demon." I was speechless. "Well, you know, when the portal opens it sends a signal out, which is really easy to track." "I am no harm." "Hmm, that's for us to decide," he said as another boy came out from a car parked besides us. "Meet my friend, Prav." "Hello Prav, I am Lilith." "Seriously? You revealed your secret identity to a demon?" "Well, let's be open, this demon seems like a good person." "Huh? It's a demon, there's a reason it was sent to hell." "No, there is no reason." I replied with haste. "What do you mean?" "Well, hell is just another planet used for keeping prisoners who lost in war against Marco-Hendrix" "Who's that?" "Uh, I thought I told you. He's a conquerer of planets. He throws those who disobeys him, in hell." "Ahhh..." I waited for them to finish their little talk, Downspring seemed nice. "Please don't send me back there, I beg you." "Well, I won't, unless you do something irrational." "Thank you!" "Umm- but it's too dangerous." "Well, we have the book, if she does something wrong, we can send her back anytime." "Yes! And I promise I won't do anything like that!" "See, she's good." I smiled at them as cute as I could. "Aw- ok." "Yay! Thank you!" "Of course, now we are going to school, do you wanna come with us?" "Well, yeah, bringing a demon to class will be fun." "Sure! Well I don't have anywhere else to go," I laughed. "Oki then! Let's go!" "Wait! You aren't driving Ling! "Aw.. ok.. Call your driver." I looked out of the window as the car sped through the highway. Cars and bikes and busses running in the highway like us. Little humans walking in the footpath smiled at me as I waved at them shouting, "Have a great day!" The boys inside the car laughed at my overjoyed self, I smiled at them , "You know, it's so happy to be free." "Seeing you happy makes us happy too," Ling smiled. "Well, now I have another super-powered friend," Prav muttered. "Ha well, don't you have any powers?" "Nope, he doesn't." "Uhh, who needs powers, I have my brain." We laughed, and the driver said, "We arrived." I stepped out, it was a brown building with many children entering and leaving and some eating lunch. "Welcome to my school," Ling said as if it was the intro of a movie. But yes, I was sure it was holding a ton of exciting things, and what matters is that, I am free! And yes, that's it! I was so happy as I stepped inside the compound, and looked at the children playing on slide and see-saw and older ones playing soccer and badminton. My first day at earth was a beautiful one, the feeling of freedom and happiness overwhelmed into tears of joy. I felt a hand wiping those tears off, the same hand that held my wrist and brought me here, letting me live here, I smiled at him happily before we both began to walk inside the beautiful brown building. ************


“ALL HANDS BRACE, BRACE, BRACE!” The Officer of the Deck shouted into the ship wide intercom as the destroyer plunged through another towering wave. The polar low-pressure system was tossing us about like a child’s bathtub toy, and visibility was atrocious. The southern Barents Sea wasn’t doing us any favors while we traded comfort for survival. I tried to remember that as I stared at the holo-map table. Tightening my grip on the railing, I reviewed all the pieces and prior moves once more. North Africa was under URE control and we had landed massive joint amphibious invasions in Italy, Greece, and Portugal. Sweeping North at speed with the aid of thousands of militia fighters across Western and Central Europe. In an effort to cut off the Scandinavian Peninsula, and form a united Eastern Front, the hastily assembled Arctic fleet had landed successfully and taken Murmansk in the north. Providing a foot hold for an Army airlift and ground assault to the South. The operation had been months in the making and I myself had been proud to be part of it. “Sir, army rear command is reporting that both Southern and Northern advances have stalled. They are bunkering down. Multiple forward units are reporting effective missile artillery throughout their positions. Currently setting up anti-missile emplacements.” I grimaced, watching what the lieutenant was saying, reflect on my map. The army had to keep moving or the whole effort would fail, the enemy would hold Helsinki and St. Petersburg, then resupply. Dragging this out even longer. Where were those missiles coming from? I snatched the satcom handheld, “Captain Tutor are you receiving this net?” My counterpart in the Norwegian Sea was sparring with our adversary in the Gulf of Finland, waiting for an opening. “Go ahead Captain,” I spoke quickly, “My best guess is the heavy missile support we’re seeing is coming from ships in the White Sea and deeper in the Gulf, your thoughts?” “I agree, but I can’t close at the moment. Undersea recon indicates a heavy submarine presence,” his voice crackled through the speaker. My eyes bore into the map. The water was *shallow,* not a lot of room to maneuver. “HELM, COME HARD RIGHT, ICE BEARING 3-5-0 relative, 500 METERS!” The Officer of the Deck shouted again and we lurched as I tried to focus. Then it came to me. Hurriedly I brought up UAV imagery from that morning, there was snow-covered ice across significant portions of both the Gulf of Finland and the White Sea. Orders flew from my mouth as a plan continued to form in my mind, “Captain,” I could hear Tutor’s hesitation through the spotty connection, “We stand a fair chance of losing the *Carthage,* not to mention some of your own.” I was ready with my rebuttal, “We need those missiles gone, to do that we need those subs gone, and quickly. We don’t have time for reluctance.” “Very well, submit your plan. You have my endorsement. Standing by for your signal.” I finished outlining the actions that needed to happen in the next hour and submitted it via the Command Net, who was undoubtedly watching the entire evolution in real time. Captain Tutor’s encrypted key was soon attached. My heart pounded along with my ship through the sea, until my answer appeared in my inbox: EXECUTE AUTHORITY GRANTED, IMMEDIATE ACTION AUTHORIZED. Within seconds, long range hypersonic missiles from the heavy missile cruiser *Carthage,* currently patrolling the English Channel were in the air and headed for grids in both the Gulf of Finland and the White Sea. Though the missiles may be intercepted, it showed her presence, and made her a worthy target, hopefully. “Sir, army forward UAV recon reports multiple submarine missile launches. They are passing grids as per your request.” I watched them appear on the table, the subs had run out from under the ice to take their shots. “Load grids into targeting and fire three undersea concussion missiles per grid in spreads, leading back to the ice. XO, put the squadron at flank into the White Sea. We will engage the enemy at close range and clear out their surface ships in close quarters while the subs are defensive.” “But sir, the ice between us and the coast?” Genuine concern crossed his face. “Damn the ice! If we don’t eliminate their surface force, the subs will stay! We need to make this a knife fight *now*. We must put them on their heels.” “Aye sir, Lieutenant, you heard the Captain. Take us in. Weapons, begin powering all railgun batteries.” In the next few hours, the gamble paid for itself. The enemy’s naval-based missile artillery was destroyed by our high-capacity railguns, while their subs dodged underwater concussion detonations, a shallow sea floor, and ice. All of which prevented them from providing coordinated and effective defensive support. The army resumed its march, linking up, taking St. Petersburg, and beginning the Siege of Helsinki. The *Carthage* was destroyed, along with two of my destroyer squadron. One due to a collision with ice and subsequent capsize in the sub-zero water. Another was lost to a submarine as it made a hasty retreat, but the day was ours. Months later, when Helsinki fell, I was summoned to the Admiralty board for promotion. My name is Tai Mei, and that was the day I learned the cost of taking victory.