#although even if there are a few scattered settlements. how the fuck is one guy going to traverse an entire planet on foot

[oflgtfol]

star wars needs more actual space things. especially space horror. i know i'm biased but outer space is fucking terrifying. the characters need to reckon with that more. come face to face with the horrifying ordeal of being mortal

#you're on some remote planet and your hyperdrive breaks. guess what you're fucking stuck forever #LIKE if boba and fenenc hadnt shown up on tython. DIN WOULD BE STRANDED THERE #FOR WHO KNOWS HOW LONG. THATS SO TERRIFYING #i mean . assuming tython is like uninhabited #although even if there are a few scattered settlements. how the fuck is one guy going to traverse an entire planet on foot #so even if it isnt entirely uninhabited thats still terrible LOL #OR LIKE? GAMMA RAY BURSTS? #youre just living your life and then BOOM THIS ENTIRE PLANET IS INCINERATED IN AN INSTANT #do u think planets need to be evacuated sometimes because a nearby star is going supernova #or like. neutron star mergers. black hole mergers!! #pulsars. magnetars. etc etc #brot posts #sw posting #people ask me if i would ever want to be an astronaut and it's like #no fucking thanks lol. i love outer space but i am admiring it from afar. <3

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 99 - A Formidable Pair

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she's certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…

MASTERLIST

Chapter 99 - A Formidable Pair

[Despite Negan’s reluctance to take her with them, he, Blake and the Saviours take a trip to the Hilltop...]

It was grey cloudy morning, and despite the sunny weather yesterday, it really was no surprise to see a few scattered raindrops falling gently down onto the asphalt. Especially at this time of the year.

Negan was stood out by the trucks, Lucille cocked up across his left shoulder, jaw clenched, and watching, as his men filed past him efficiently.

Three battered old vehicles were there ready and waiting to move out at Negan's order, but here he was, waiting for one person, who he wasn't sure he wanted coming anyway.

Because, after all, this wasn't going to be a fun jaunt out.

This was a hunt. Tracking down Tony and his family and the guns they had stolen from Negan.

And Negan didn't want to be thinking of Blake and how he was going to protect her while doing so.

Besides…he was a ruthless fucking guy and wasn't quite sure how Blake would react to that out there…

Although what the dark-haired Saviour could not forget, was how little mercy she actually managed to show David….or the Wolves….or Steve…in the short period of time he had known her.

Each of their demises more brutal that the last…

Perhaps she and him were actually more similar that he once had thought.

Negan pondered this for a moment, before the sudden sound of footsteps behind him on the gravel, broke him from his thoughts

He swung around, leaning back on his heels as he did so, as his dark eyes came to settle on the tall, blonde figure of Blake strutting across the yard towards him.

Fuck, she was gorgeous. Dressed today in a pair of tight jeans, lace up black boots, with a fleece lined black jacket slung over her shoulders, and her hair up in a long sleek ponytail.

Negan could help but give a smile now, showing off his set of wide white teeth, as he stood there admiring her.

"So," she said coming to stand just a foot or so away from him and cocking her head to the side promptly. "Do I get a gun?"

Negan licked at his lips.

Fuck, she had some balls.

"Only as long as you ain't gonna shoot me while I got my back turned, Princess…" he retorted goadingly. "Cause' I know how un-fuckin' predicable you Alexandrians can get out there…"

He of course was remembering back to both Daryl's punch, and when that damn woman that had put a bullet in Lucille.

But Blake just rolled her eyes dramatically, scoffing loudly.

"Well I mean, I can always switch teams if you'd prefer the challenge," she said in a voice dripping in sarcasm, suddenly lifting her hand to her face and pretending to admire her nails dismissively.

But this game of their only caused Negan's grin to widen, as he ran his tongue, once again, over his lips.

He gave shallow, utterly fake sigh, before reaching beneath his jacket and tugging out a small black handgun that he had shoved down the front of his pants.

He had always planned to give her a gun, of course. Trusting her now, probably more than anyone else on his team.

Him and her…well, they had been through so much fucking crap together these past few months.

Negan had seen her at her lowest, and she had been witness to his depths too…and both of them had come out stronger from all that.

Alright, fuck, maybe they were 'just friends', but deep down Negan knew how he truly fucking felt about her.

And hell, if anything happened to her on this trip, he wouldn't fucking rest until the person responsible paid.

He handed the gun to her now as she eyed him, a small smile passing over her face.

"You still trying to think of a way to NOT have me come along?" she asked in a teasing voice, taking the gun from his grasp.

But fuck, she really could fucking read him like a book, couldn't she?

"Is it really that fuckin' obvious, Peaches?" Negan sighed wearily, pressing his tongue into the side of his cheek. "I mean I know that you are a badass. But out there, there's a lot of fuckin' shit that can go wrong."

But Blake, shoving the gun down the back of her jeans, merely strutted forwards, biting down on her lip and bumping her hip with his.

"Trust me," she purred gently. "I can handle this. I promise."

With that, Negan pressed his lips together wanting to argue, but relenting at the last moment.

He knew for a fact that she was far too fucking stubborn to back down now anyway. And refusing to let her go would only result in yet another fight between the pair of them.

"Al-fuckin'-right, I'll take your word for it," he said in a huffy voice, lowering Lucille from his shoulder and pointing the sharp end at Blake as she strutted over towards the nearest awaiting truck. "But I fuckin' swear, Darlin', any fuckin' sign of trouble and I am hauling your goddamn ass outta' there."

But the caramel-blonde woman merely grinned at him over her shoulder, wrinkling her nose as she did so, and flashing him a smoky-eyed look, that made Negan's chest constrict slightly as he stared at her.

"Deal…" she murmured back happily, as Negan blinked a couple of times, seemingly unable to take his eyes off her now.

God, the things she fucking did to him.

Negan had been fine until she had come along….

…he had had his wives, so that his need for sex was sated…

….his men had been loyal, so that he didn't yearn for company all the time…

But Negan hadn't quite known just how lonely he had been for these past few years…living in this godforsaken world. Ok, he had been the big fuckin' boss around here, but as much as he was revered, he really had had no-one he felt as happy with, as he did now, with Blake…

She was fucking everything to him these days.

A goddamn queen, and there was no way in hell he was gonna let anything happen to her.

Negan felt his entire body swell now, feeling possessive over her.

He had been right back in those woods all those weeks ago. She was indeed his weakness.

But now Negan realised, that if anyone did try and come for her and use her as leverage against him, he was willing to go to the depths of hell to protect her, at whatever the cost.

Although from the look of her today, it really didn't look like she needed his protection.

Hell, she WAS a fucking badass, strutting over towards one of the trucks eagerly now, the outline of the handgun, just about visible beneath her jacket.

He grinned after her, suddenly giving a sharp whistle now, gaining her attention once more.

He nodded over to the first truck in the line-up as she glanced his way.

"You're up front with me, Princess," he said flashing her is white set of teeth, as she smirked back over at him, slowly strolling his way again.

The journey along the bumpy roads on this dull and drizzly morning, truly did nothing for Blake's hangover. Although she had to say, that an entire bottle of water later, she was indeed feeling a hell of a lot better than she had done back in her room at the Sanctuary.

She had been cosied up in the front of a medium sized truck, with Danny in the driving seat, Arat next to him, and Blake squashed in between the curly-haired woman and Negan, who, of course, took this opportunity to paw possessively at her thigh for the duration of the journey.

Not that that mattered to Blake any more. Even just a few short days ago, she might have been embarrassed about the attention Negan had given her, but now, all of his higher-up generals now what he was like around her.

They even knew where to find him when he wasn't in his room for god's sake, predictably cosied up to Blake in her room instead, as they had been just this morning.

God, were they really that predictable?

But now, almost an hour later, after a long journey by their standards, Blake could just about see in the distance, the looing settlement of the Hilltop up ahead.

She had never been here before (barely having been at Alexandria for long before David had had her taken, against her will, to the Sanctuary) but she recognised it, of course, from the descriptions she had been given of the place.

She had no idea who lived here anymore….for even when she had been back at Alexandria all those weeks ago, Rick and Tara and the others told her nothing, in hindsight, probably not trusting her enough to do so.

They were currently being followed closely behind by another truck carrying Dwight and about six or so other Saviours. And so, as well as the eight of them in their own vehicle, that was surely enough bodies to intimate the people of the Hilltop, and this Tony, Negan had been talking about.

But was Blake including herself in this number?

She glanced around at Danny and Arat and of course the dark-haired leader of the Saviour's beside her, all packing weapons of varying description. Used to doing this kind of work on a regular basis.

But Blake was one of them now, and as much as she tried to believe and dream that perhaps she and Negan could live a happy and quiet life together, she knew that in this world, that could never be true.

She was part of the Sanctuary now…and any ties to Alexandria….as much as it pained her to say, had to be forgotten. For they had proved to her that night she had fled in that car, how little they truly thought of her, obviously valuing the word of David over her, after all he had done to her…tortured her….beaten her….

Far worse than Negan had ever done to her that was for sure.

Blake knew how much Negan worshipped every inch of her…and knew that despite how much of a monster other people considered him to be, he would never ever ever do the same to her, and damage her in the same way as David had.

The caramel-blonde woman chanced a glance up at him now, as the trucks slowed slightly, nearing the high fences of the Hilltop.

But the dark-haired Saviour's eyes were now fixed to the gates, blackly.

He looked like a wolf. Hungry and dark, his hackles raised, ready for a fight.

And he was the first to shove open the door almost the moment the truck rolled to a stop, stepping out on his long legs, into the damp morning air.

Blake soon joined Negan, shoving her gun back into its place down the rear waistband of her jeans, pulling her jacket over it to hide her from view.

In a second or two thirteen Saviours joined the pair of them, brandishing all sorts of frightening looking weapons, all gazing over towards her and the dark-haired man at her side now.

Blake took in a small breath, her eyes travelling over all of these men and women.

Months ago, she remembered just how scared she had been that first time she had stood in the dining hall surrounded by these people, as David had hit her across the face.

But now, as burly and as menacing as they seemed, they were still more her people now, than Rick and Michonne and those back in Alexandria were. And here they all were, right now, presenting her with as much respect as they were Negan.

But even so, Blake after a brief moment, stepped aside, turning as well, to face the tall leader of the Saviours.

"Alright, you know what to do," he merely uttered in a loud carrying voice that she knew that anyone standing inside the walls of the Hilltop would hear. "So let's see who is inside today."

And with that, Negan turned on his heel, taking a few long strides over toward the looming gates, bashing four times against the hard wood with the end of Lucille. The noise reverberated through the quiet space now.

Blake felt her chest rising and falling hard as she watched Negan, waiting.

And after a brief moment or two, he turned his head, gazing her way for the most minute of seconds, before dragging his chocolate eyes over instead staring straight at the curly-haired Arat, now stood beside Blake, her arms folded across herself.

"I guess there's no one in," Negan mused in a loud, yet sarcastic tone, giving a humungous shrug. "Well, I guess that settles it…an there really is no other option…."

And with that, he ran his hand over his bearded chin, letting out a humongous sigh.

"Arat," he suddenly barked. "Burn the place to the ground."

At his words, Blake let a gulp suddenly slide its way down her throat, but she didn't flinch, keeping her eyes trained on Negan.

But thankfully, before Arat had even made a move to step forwards, there came a screech of a large metal bolt being pulled across, and within just a few short moments the gates were slowly opened wide.

God, he really had done this a million times before hadn't he?

Negan gave a smug grin now, lifting Lucille up onto his shoulder and striding confidently forwards.

He looked just as he had when Blake had first met him. A showman, peacocking for not only her and the Saviours, but for the people on the other side of the fence too.

But Blake, not wanting to linger behind, followed, as did Arat, who Blake presumed Negan had asked to stick with her for protection.

"Wow, well isn' this place just somethin'," Negan uttered out, leaning back and shaking his head in a false show of admiration for the place, as he gazed through the open gates now.

And Blake, as she moved around, felt her eyes land on a group of thirty or-so people, all standing in an ample yard full of huts and makeshift homes, all surrounding a large magnificent building in the centre of the camp, set up on a small hill top.

But it wasn't long that within the crowd, much to her dismay and discomfort, her green eyes almost instantly met with the faces of two people she recognised…. recognition on seeing herappearing on their faces quickly enough too.

Jesus and Enid.

Both of them she of course knew vaguely from her time at Alexandria, and yet the two of them stared now back at her now in horror. Obviously never in a million years expecting to see her standing here with Negan and the Saviours.

But little did they know how involved in this group she really was….

"Damn. I mean, how the hell has it taken me so long to come down here and visit you fine folks in this stunning venue," said Negan enthusiastically in a loud voice, arching his back with every syllable he spoke.

The crowd of people all looked timidly up at the dark-haired Saviour and the group now standing just over Blake's own shoulder, with fear in their eyes.

But suddenly an older bearded man quickly stepped forwards from the mass of people, that Blake supposed from descriptions of him banded around Alexandria, was Gregory, the leader here.

"A-And you must be Negan," said the man, dressed in a smart shirt and beige pants, holding out his hand towards Negan politely, flashing him a forced smile.

Ugh.

Blake clenched her jaw at this.

She had met people like Gregory before….him instantly reminding her of David, with that same spineless and sneering look etched across his features.

But from the looks of it, Negan didn't take too fondly to him either.

He paused in what he was doing, his dark eyes narrowed, looking the old man up and down.

"An you must be….Greg, right?" Negan growled out.

"Gregory," corrected the old man, keeping his hand outstretched.

But Negan did not take his hand to shake, instead closing the gap between him and Gregory, raising both his eyebrows interestedly.

"Oh, I'm am terribly fuckin' sorry Gregory, where are my goddamn manners?" Negan replied, sucking at his teeth, and lowering Lucille from his shoulder.

Silence fell now across the camp, as everyone's eyes were drawn swiftly to the barbed-wire covered baseball bat in Negan's hand.

But the dark-haired Saviour merely gave a sigh.

"You see the thing is, an' it's a sad fuckin story," began Negan, with a dark nod. "But I woke up this mornin', with not only one hell of a fuckin' hangover, but to also find out that one of my men has gone AWOL overnight, with his wife an' kid, and taken a big stash of my guns with him."

Negan now took a step forwards until he was almost nose-to-nose with the leader of the Hilltop.

"Now you would mind if we took a little look around now would you….make sure he isn't hiding out here somewhere?" said Negan with an intimidating grimace. "…Greg."

Negan said Gregory's shortened name again with purpose, his eyes now beady and black like a shark…and Blake could almost feel the heat and bubbling irritation coming off of her mate now, even at this fairly far proximity to him.

But much to her amusement, Gregory looked at this moment, terrified, his hand at his side visibly trembling.

But even so he gave a shaky nod, timidly stepping aside and bowing his head for Negan to pass.

Almost at once, Negan gave a wide wolf-like grin, blinking heavily and glancing Blake's way.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She didn't smile back, but instead paced over towards him now, with her head held high, feeling a surge of confidence and power. And it wasn't until she was at his side, did Negan turn his head into her, and press his lips into her ear, out of earshot of anyone else now.

"Jeez, I mean get a load of this fuckin' guy, huh?" murmured Negan through gritted teeth, causing Blake to lick at her lips as they twitched up into the smallest of smirks.

She pulled back gently, eyeing him as he gave her a poignant sighing sort-of look in return.

God, how even in a situation like this, could he always make light of everything?

And it took Blake all her strength not to roll her eyes at him, as he barked back at their fellow Saviours.

"Al-fuckin-right then," uttered the dark-haired man, pressing his amused tongue to his upper molars and gesturing with Lucille. "Let's take a look around boys and girls, see if I can huff and puff an' find these little piggies."

And with that, all thirteen of the Saviours, with weapons held aloft intimidatingly, strode past both her and Negan making for the buildings….not wanting to leave even a single stone un-turned.

And Blake, not wishing to seem like the only one not able to handle herself, made to follow them, ignoring completely Enid and Jesus' stares as she went.

But in a moment, she felt a sudden hand clutch her wrist, stopping her in her tracks, and before she had even turned around, she knew exactly who it was…feeling his firm body press up against her side.

"Nuh-uh, Peaches," Negan growled in a deliciously dark voice, into her ear once more. "You're with me."

And with that Blake glanced his way, giving a devilish smile of her own, moving her hand slightly and entwining her fingers swiftly with his as he grinned back at her.

Fuck, they were a good match…

…both of them tall…

…good looking…

…and right now, very very intimidating…

And, with Negan taking the lead, the couple shoved past Gregory, making for the large mansion straight ahead….

…neither of the formidable pair, giving one shit about the meek and frightened crowd of people that watched them go.

Would you like to be tagged/untagged? Let me know, more coming soon…

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[dimenovelsfromoblivion]

The Collective

As inhospitable as the desert can be the parched, arid lands are ideal for preserving the ancient cities built in the early days of civilization. These mostly abandoned settlements were scattered across the landscape quietly being buried in the sand.

Still, there were some cities, archaic remnants of ancient kingdoms that had long since vanished, but life went on even as the old dynasties crumbled back into the enteral sand and the people settled around the ancient walls for hundreds of generations went about existence much the same as their vanquished ancestors. These places although mostly forgotten these forerunners of civilization existed alongside the electrified concrete and steel megalopolis that had come into existence in the final terminal stages of human-settled life.

Just as in previous epochs this seemingly worthless place was where empires fought life and death struggles.  Just like the innumerable men of arms who were sent here to pacify these lands over they millenniums Corporal Keller of the US Marines couldn’t comprehend exactly what it was that kept drawing the armies of the world back to this same desolate place.

Keller and his unit had spent the last few days watching drones and bombers, the latest and greatest in hi-tech siege weaponry blast the prehistoric city to rubble. Now it was time for the grunts to go in and blow away anyone that survived the barrage.

The helicopters hovering overhead stirred up the sand into a storm. The air was saturated with the grainy particles that stung at the eyes and skin, but it was at least a mild morning. The desert dew still gleamed in the morning sun and a place white moon lingered in the bright morning sky. The Marines moved cautiously but kept up the pace. Today it was Corporal Kellers turn to be the point man, which meant first one inside, first one to take any fire.

The young soldier and his company had surrounded a courtyard. He was hugging the corner wall at the entrance when the signal was given. Flash grenades were tossed into the open space, and the soldiers quickly moved in. They only ran into each other though. The courtyard was empty.

“Clear,” Keller radioed in.

Keller felt something tap on his shoulder. There was a spot of blood soaking into his uniform.

“What the fuck?”

He looked up corpses were hanging from hastily constructed rafters above their heads in various stages of decay and dismemberment. The helicopters had scared away the scavaging birds, but it was easy to see on the soft decomposing flesh where they opportunistic animals had been feeding.

Keller felt queazy he called it in. “We got bodies hanging here.”

There was the sound of something stirring behind the walls and the jolted Marines raised their weapons. Keller looked at the west and could see two deep red circles. He moved closer and brushed away the sand. It was a drawing of a woman with a plump body and what looked like iron wings. She wore some kind of ceremonial headdress, and her bird-like feet had large sharp talons.

“What the fuck is this?” Keller muttered.

“RPG!” Startled Keller looked up and saw a rocket flying down from the top of the wall, then an abrupted impenetrable blackness.

James jolted awake in his chair. A layer of sweat covered his waxy skin, and he had to catch his breath. “Holy shit,” he cracked as he reached for a nearby glass of water.

The foundation of a collective unconscious is the transcription of memory into the biomolecular structure of the human being. Evolution is by and large a process of trial and error the psyche is where the experiences of our predecessors echo across the gulf of time adding to the notional sum of existence. One of the ways it manifests is through instinct, an innate reaction a sentient being has to a situation it may have never encountered. The enigmatic process is one that straddles the line between the rational and the mystic. It was a painstaking process limited by the crawling pace of evolution.

Legions of faceless specialists directed by an institutionalized disdain for the natural order were activated to construct a more valuable and efficient model for the collective unconvinced. Their nanotech monster was decentralized and of course, data-driven. The microscopic machine was a synthetic virus that transformed sentient human beings into data banks of human memories. The natural incubator for this emergent intelligence was the military, where of course psychological programming is a paramount concern. Unwitting soldiers were merged into a micro-collective conscience. Their experiences of war could now be shared through a real-time data stream. Minature machines bound their minds together and turned their most horrific memories of war into shared experiences.

Retired Major James Fullerton had no inkling of this grand design or his place in its growing web of consciousness. Neither did the doctor who pointed to the small innocuous shadow on the translucent gray and white image of his brain.

“We don’t know if it’s a tumor, but it’s not operatable. I’m sorry, but all we can do is wait and see.” The doctor informed him in his professional but compassionate manner.

Daniel Princip, a friend from his unit, was given a similar prognosis barely six months ago and now he was dead. Granted it was a bullet from his service pistol that released him from his mortal coil and not any sort of cancer or degenerative neural disease, but James knew, and Daniel must have been somewhat aware that the mysterious blemish on his neural tissue was an omen of doom.

James and Daniel were both combat veterans who became friends while witnessing some of the darkest and most blood-soaked excesses of modern war. When they heard the sanitized euphemism for a massacre, their minds conjured up scenes of crushed and mangled bodies. They had both seen mothers carrying the dismembered remains of their children after a “surgical strike” or families wallowing over bloated fly-covered corpses of fathers and sons killed in “counter-insurgency” raids. Despite this, they managed to integrate back into society and keep isolated the contagion of violence that infected their souls.

James was divorced, but amicably so. He had two daughters in college and had enjoyed years of success as a financial consultant. Daniel hadn’t fared so poorly either. He was a lawyer and confirmed lifetime bachelor. The experience of war instilled in him a sense of just how indifferent the universe is and the inevitability of tragedy and undercut any desire or incentive for him to have a family.

Whatever was consuming Daniel from within worked quickly. His body withered away from his bones, and his colorless eyes sank into his gaunt face. He endured every test and consulted every specialist, but there was no conclusive answer. When he told them about the dreams, they suspected his ailment was purely psychological. He was just another soldier being ravaged by the malignant trauma that had been planted in his brain like a ticking time bomb from his service days.

“I keep having these like flashbacks only it doesn't feel like their mine. It feels like I'm in someone else's body watching what they’re watching,” James said with a faraway look in his eyes.

James was intimately familiar with the terror the twin specters of regret and shame could unleash upon their victims gave a sympathetic and understanding nod.

“It’s like watching a movie, and I know something terrible is about to happen but no matter what I can’t stop it. It’s like being a voice screaming inside that kid’s head, but he couldn’t hear me.”

“Boy?” James repeated.

Daniel nodded. “Yeah, his name was Lance Corporal Thomas Johnson that’s who I am a lot of times,” Daniel said before taking a sip of coffee. “At least that’s what the other guys call me. Poor kid, he’s on his second deployment, and his mom’s just been diagnosed with cancer,” Daniel said matter of factly.

When Daniel gave those strangely specific details, Jame’s felt his stomach tie into knots and swell up into his throat. “Huh, that’s kinda weird,” he replied casually.

These visions always a rare occurrence were now steadily commandeering his subconscious. His sleep was now drowning out from the incursions of these living nightmares just like what happened to Daniel. He wasn’t sure how but James knew it was this smudge on the MRI that was the source of these aberrations of war.

The sleep-deprived James was retracted back in his recliner dulling his senses in the ultraviolet lite of the tv mounted on the wall. He absently cycled through the televisions line up, which at this time of night was mostly infomercials. He finally gave up the futile search for entertainment and settled on one of the many twenty four hour news networks.

The screen was bifurcated between an attractive blond news anchor and repeating B-roll footage of a middle eastern battlezone, by now a familiar television backdrop.

The blonde was listening attentively, indicated by the occasional nod to the static voice of field reporter who was summing up all the action that had apparently just happened a few hours ago.

“Around 8:15 this morning the Marines declared the city liberated,” the faceless voice explained while footage of marines putting in a battering ram through and a tank firing a round into a building played in the background.

“The city has been liberated,” the anchor confirmed “but we’re being told combat operations are still ongoing. Why is that?”

There was a short delay between the question and answer while a new loop of battlefield footage started to play.

“Yes, that’s true. Marine units are still engaged in mop-op operations in and around the city. While the military is in control of all municipal and administrative buildings, there are still some terrorist strongholds scattered around, but the military spokesman we talked to says they’ll be clear before the day is out.”

The talking heads on the screen started to sound further and further away until their banter became obscure mumbling. James passively watched the medley of battle and sank deeper into his chair. Whether he wanted it or not he was slowly slipping back into sleep. His eyes fluttered, and his jaw slacked. His head gradually fell back, and the room started to fade away. He was on the edge of sleep when a scene on TV jolted him awake.

It was the courtyard from his dream. The dangling bodies had been taken down and the gangrenous limbs removed but James still recognized the scenery even after it had been thoroughly satisfied. On the west wall was the same etching of the plumb winged woman with crimson eyes.

The ringing doorbell startled James.

“Who the hell could that be?” he muttered. Deciding to ignore the door James picked back up the remote and started flipping around again but whoever had come calling was persistent. The doorbell rang another three times in quick succession.

“Jesus fuckin christ alright,” James snarled.

The ringing continued as he made his way to the door. “Alright alright!” James Hollard.

He looked through the peephole and saw a man probably in his mid to late twenties in rain-soaked clothes with shaggy hair and a beard. James kept the chain lock on the door.

“Can I help you?” He asked visibly irritated.

“Are you Major James Fullerton?” The man asked.

“Yeah, that’s me who are you?” James replied.

The stranger on his stoop pulled out a gun at hip level and pointed it through the space between the door and the frame.

“I really need to talk to you,” he said calmly.

“Oh shit,” James mumbled.

The armed intruder followed behind James with his gun pointed at his back.

“Where’s a place we can sit down and talk?” he asked with a raspy voice.

“Look, man, I won’t give you any trouble. Just take what you want and get going,” James said.

“It’s nothing like that. My name’s Luetenant Phillip Speers second airborne.”

“I retired from the military eight years ago if you have any gripes with them I really can’t help you,” explained James.

Phillip didn’t reply. When they got to the den, he directed James back to his recliner while he sat down on the couch. James paused for a second when he saw Phillip’s left arm was a robotic prosthetic.

“I’m sorry I have to do this, but I considered all the options, and this was the only way,” Phillip explained.

“What’s this all about?” James asked calmly.

Phillip leaned forward. “I got out of the service three years ago, and about a year and a half ago I started having all these fucked up dreams. Now I know what you’re thinking,” Phillip sighed “PTSD right? Well, that would have made sense but these dreams I was having weren’t mine. In fact, I don’t even think they were dreams. It was like seeing through someone else's eyes. Night after night I was back in the desert doing recon missions in a place I’ve never even been before, and for some reason, the guys on the mission all called me James, James Fullerton. I lived through your time in the Subsaharan,” said Phillip. “I know about Daniel, and I know about that boy in the Michael Jordan jersey.”

James was speechless. He’d never told anyone about that kid, but James had spent years and years begging his ghost for forgiveness, or at least what his mind thought his spirit might be like. It was James’s unit that called in the drone strike that incinerated him. Even though he left behind no mortal remains his face was forever seared into James’s memory. He never could forgive himself for sacrificing the child to the cold mechanical hunter

Phillip saw that he had touched a nerve and decided to press his questioning further. “Have you ever met or heard of a marine captain Peter Harding?” he asked.

James shook his head.

“He came to be about a year and a half ago and told me about the same thing I’m telling you now. He knew every dirty detail of my deployment. He knew about friends I lost people I wasted I mean everything. He even knew how I got this,” Phillip said holding up his robotic arm.

“Have you heard of Corporal Keller?” James asked.

“Have you seen the picture on the wall too?” Phillip asked with wide eyes.

James nodded “yeah the woman with the wings and the ruby eyes.”

“Christ,” muttered Phillip “Yeah that one really fucked with me.”

“So what do we do about it?” James asked.

Phillip set the gun down and vigorously rubbed his eyes. “Look, man, I have no idea what they did to us. The VA never told me anything. It wasn’t until I went to a private doctor I found out about the thing in my head.”

“Yeah, the shadow. I have it too.” Said, James.

Phillip sat back. “Well they’re not going to help us with this thing that much is clear, and the doctors tell me they can’t cut it out. So really there’s only one thing to do only one way we can disconnect ourselves.”

“Yeah?” James shrugged.

Without a word, Phillip picked up the pistol, put it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. A cloud of red mist saturated with pink particles blasted into the air and sprayed the wall behind him.