#anyway and then he took home the equipment and the samples and the journals and it properly kicked off the better part of his research car

[omegasmileyface]

some distant tommy ghoulatta backstory :)

[HLVRAI Danny Phantom AU]

warnings: death mention

words: 2299

AO3 link

===

Feb 1965, Wagon Mound, NM

G-Man looked at the dry, historic town around him as he pulled his truck into the parking lot of a church. He was staying in a cheap hotel a few towns away, where he had first seen all that supernatural stuff as a kid. He had come back to ask around for local stories and try to get some semblance of research done himself, and he was lucky enough to hear about a guy in this town who was supposedly obsessed with ghosts. After getting his address and name — Benjamin Fischer — from a local at a diner who was intrigued by G-Man's search, he set off immediately.

Fischer's house was close to the church, so G-Man got out there and walked the rest of the way. It was uncomfortably hot with his jacket on so close to the desert, but he knew how quickly that could change.

The house was small and modern, with an unkempt yard and a cross visible in the blinded window. After G-Man knocked on the door, he investigated the porch. Despite the lack of attention to appearance everywhere else, lush bushes were kept in pots by the door. They bloomed with deep, pinkish-red rose-like flowers despite the time of year.

A man, presumably Benjamin Fischer himself, opened the door.

"Hello. I've heard you've been doing some research on spirits and the supernatural?" G-Man said, quelling the slight intimidation he felt with the confidence of a man on a mission.

Fischer raised his eyebrow. "Who are you, exactly?"

Aw, crap. He was so excited he forgot to introduce himself. "Sorry. You can call me G-Man. I'm looking to do some research myself, and I need a better jumping off point."

Fischer looked amused, but didn't stop frowning. "Do you have a real name?"

"I've been going solely by G-Man these last few years."

The older man smiled wryly. "Well, boy, I try to keep my research to myself. I can give you some advice, but that's about all."

G-Man's brow furrowed, and he forced his face back into a more neutral expression. "Advice would be wonderful," (though he doubted it was anything he hadn't heard before), "but why don't you share your research? The more people know about what's out there, the more we can be equipped for it."

Fischer looked to the side and scowled. "There are people here who think I'm crazy, or better yet, some kind of Satan worshipper. I'm sure they'd like to see what I've found and make all sorts of trouble for everyone in town trying to 'disprove' it. Hell, there are people who'd take what I've done, use it against me, and then take it for their own."

"Ah... could I help you with your research then? I have no intention of letting anything found by either of us into the wrong hands."

"Sorry, kid, not looking for an assistant at the moment. You'll have to look somewhere else. And that advice, before you go — ghosts are more than just the impressions of people who used to live. Trust your instincts, they're closer to spirits than your brain."

G-Man frowned and thanked the man before reluctantly walking back toward the church. He could probably spend the night searching for anything supernatural in this town, but he'd have to go back by morning. Maybe he'd come by some other time and pester Fischer again.

---

June 1967, Wagon Mound, NM

In two more years of searching on his own, G-Man had learned some more about the supernatural, but not as much as he'd wanted. He'd gathered from books that all spirits had a central energy made out of pure passion that held them together, that they had physical forms but they didn't align quite right with the living world, that they were connected to some spirit world — all understandably but frustratingly spiritual and speculative. The only thing that seemed to be consistent was that a European flower called blood blossom, the flower that was blooming outside Benjamin Fischer's house, distressed spirits enough to ward them off.

He was in New Mexico again to visit his old spots, trying to see if he could find a ghost fresh enough to talk to him somewhat coherently. A waitress at a diner in Wagon Mound had recognized him and told him that Fischer had died a few months ago and it may not be best to try to visit his house.

Of course, that's just what G-Man did.

Clearly, Fischer had lived alone, and the house looked untouched. The yard was colder than the rest of the town, though it was night, and from the way the hairs on the back of his neck spiked, G-Man was sure it was due to a paranormal presence. Either an effect of Fischer's studies, or he was haunting the place. If G-Man's research was correct, ghosts newer than a few years didn't have enough of a presence to really do anything, or even be conscious, but they tended to hang around where they had lived and affect the atmosphere there.

Following his instincts just the way the man had told him to before, G-Man walked around to the back of the house. There was a back door, the sort that might connect to a kitchen, but a small broken window revealed that the room inside was nothing of the sort. Instead it had metal tables like a lab, surfaces covered in books, and metal boxes lined up against the walls. Some boxes and jars in the room seemed to glow when he looked away from them, including a Florence flask which was knocked over on an otherwise clear table, spilling some translucent liquid which had yet to evaporate.

The closer G-Man got, the more the chill picked at his skin. He could tell he wasn't wanted here, but the dried blood blossoms in his pockets should keep anything too bad from happening. It was worth it for the knowledge he could — would — gain.

He climbed through the window. It was too small to be a comfortable fit, but the door was locked and he didn't want to break anything that wasn't already broken. On the way through, his hand picked up a small static shock. Strange, since the window frame was plastic, but stranger things still have happened during G-Man's studies.

A workbench directly across from the door caught his attention. In front of stacks of books was a torn piece of paper, stained by whatever substance was in the spilled flask. Wild but legible handwriting read:

The items in this lab are not to be moved without the utmost dedication to their protection. I am dead, but my findings are still not to be let out of my sight. Intruders will be faced with my ghost. The security of my work is likely the death of me, be prepared for it to be the death of you.

It was signed by Fischer, but the corner of the paper was smudged unreadable by the liquid, leaving just "Ben".

It was certainly very passionate. Confident, even, from the assumption that his ghost would be around in the time it would be needed. But Fischer knew more than G-Man, if nothing else, he could be sure his ghost would stay with any stolen items until it could punish the thief. G-Man was weary to open any books or boxes knowing this, but stepped back to at least look around the room. Perhaps something could be gained that way.

In his inspection, G-Man noticed one of the faded glows becoming brighter. Suddenly, it coalesced into a figure. Directly in front of him, Fischer's ghost hovered, dark blue eyes piercing despite the overall unsure translucency of his form. He was angry, as fiercely protective of his work as the note had implied. He was also... startlingly solid. This was the closest G-Man had ever been to a ghost, but he was sure that they were not usually so defined at the edges. This ghost had slightly wrinkled skin, and his chest was moving as if he were breathing.

In fact, G-Man was certain that in order for a ghost to collect enough ambient energy to cast a form, stay visible, and maintain a consciousness, their essence had to remain for several years. Even in a place of highly concentrated paranormal energy like this little lab, it would take a year or more for just the emotional consciousness to draw together into a spirit. For what was clearly Fischer to be here so soon, and so unusually solid as well... something was clearly wrong. G-Man's investigative curiosity was almost enough to overpower his instinctual fear.

As the spirit's eyes focused onto him, the air in the room grew drier. It started to pull at the moisture in his skin and made his fingertips feel hot. Every luminescent stain and vial grew brighter until they appeared to occasionally arc between one another. Tiny discharges of hot energy.

There was no way G-Man was getting out of this without at the very least explaining himself. He steeled his nerves to the best of his ability and looked directly into the ghost's eyes, willing himself to ignore the dark lifelessness of the pupils. "Do you... remember me?"

Fischer's head tilted to the side, less like he was trying to remember so much as like he was weighing whether to admit something. "...I do not know you." He looked unsure, questioning, even though behind his firm protectiveness was a layer of desperate honesty. Especially so soon after his own death, he had to be terribly confused, with a sense of purpose but no information as to why it was so.

...Of course, unless G-Man has been misunderstanding something major, and he remembered his life just fine.

Still, assumptions lead to danger when it comes to the supernatural, so he decided to test the waters.

G-Man pointed to the smudged note. "So, Ben..." He avoided calling the ghost by his full living name. For all he knew, there was some ghostly cultural taboo against using someone's old name. The most literal form of a deadname, he supposed. The note said "Ben" at the end, so perhaps if the ghost had no memory of his life he'd understand why G-Man would think that's his name.

Fischer growled. Alright, then, bad move. "That's not it." He was looking pointedly at the note, eying the staining almost as if scared. Wait, was he questioning the cut-off? He must not have been used to going as just "Ben" in life.

"...Not your whole name?"

Fischer shook his head harshly. He looked as though if he weren't fully invested in keeping G-Man away from his findings, he'd be curled up on the floor in frustration.

"Maybe..." started the ghost, "maybe it was... Ben... 'ri'? Benry?"

G-Man had to hold back a startled laugh. Maybe he was thinking of "Benji" or something similar, because as far as he was aware, "Benry" was nothing close to a name. That being said, he wasn't going to bring up the possible confusion. He was on thin ice as is.

"Well. Benry, sir, my name is G-Man. I'm a paranormal researcher, just like... just like the man this lab belonged to, and I've spoken with him before to share findings. I was hoping to make some observations of this room for my own research and leave. I promise not to harm you or anything in here. May I please take a look around?"

The spirit (Benry?) stared back at G-Man with a renewed fury. "NO! The research in this room stays here. If it gets out, they'll take it for their own uses, all they want is-"

"I promise to keep it away from the government!"

It was a fight-or-flight response, really, G-Man just blurted the first thing he thought Benry might want to hear. Honestly, he had no reason to assume what he didn't want was government involvement, that's a bit of a stereotype when it comes to rural areas, right? Just because G-Man was afraid of the government after getting the cops called on him for a ritual last year didn't mean every paranormal researcher was. And interrupting the ghost wasn't any way to earn his trust, God why wasn't his fear enough to shut him up? I mean, even if he didn't react violently — it would be respectable, considering G-Man's bold act — making a promise to a ghost? Aren't they like the fae? What if he's bound to it? He wasn't planning on sharing anything with the government, not by a long shot, but what if something came up?

Benry's eyes widened and bored directly into G-Man, expression unreadable. Then he softened. Almost literally, his harsh glow lessened and a degree of moisture returned to the room. "You promise."

It wasn't a question, but it didn't feel like a command either. It didn't need to be. An expression of relief. "We protect the research together. You can build on it. Without the findings, there's nothing to protect. We must keep it from the wrong hands."

G-Man was shocked. The shock didn't lessen when Benry, and the note, faded from view. Was he... trusted to keep this research?

After standing still for a minute and feeling the room come back together, he let out a weak, belated "thank you." He approached a closed book on one table. If nothing else, he had to come away from this with some new knowledge.

When he touched it, the pages hummed with the same dry spark as Benry's glare. ...Haunting equipment was a good way to stay close, G-Man supposed. It seemed he had not only Fischer's findings to help his career, but his own defensive spirit, odd as it may be.

#gman is like 20 in this. hes still calling himself gman though its a pseudonym #makes him feel more confident in his research and he doesnt want to associate with his past life i guess #idk i just didnt want to come up with a name for him lmao #tommy ghoulatta #this ones backstory ;) #my writing #hlvrai #its a crossover but it also stands as just... hlvrai ghost au i guess lmao #bloodblossoms on the front porch hell yeah #maybe the g in gman... stands for GHOST #anyway and then he took home the equipment and the samples and the journals and it properly kicked off the better part of his research car #eer wahoo !! #danny phantom #because you guys get to see it too even though its barely even dp related :) #hey remember how i finished 90% of this in one day and then said id post it the next and then it was another month? yeah

[gabeswritingthingy]

A Slice of Life in Space (Sample Work, Short Story)

Log Entry – 07.05.2050

Everyone on Earth saw it with their own eyes. Yesterday’s events will not be forgotten for a long time. For my part, I saw it while I was preparing pasta for my dinner. At 8:00 pm last night, the moon exploded. The blast was so strong the shockwaves could be felt here on the planet, which resulted in a short 2.5 magnitude earthquake. Thankfully, little to no damage was caused. It also didn’t produce any casualties, either - at least if you don’t consider my carbonara a casualty, because one of the moon chunks fell on the damned thing just as I was about to eat it. Instead, I carefully put on my gloves and placed it in an airtight container immediately. I called my boss and told him about the incident, all worried. She assured me that they have prepared for such an eventuality and have begun The Lunar Restoration Program as we spoke. Since the advancement of technology has come so far, the astronauts at the United Global Space Station had no trouble replacing the damaged 75% of the moon almost instantaneously by getting a clean sample of a moon rock, cloning it, then reattaching it to the rest of the moon on a molecular level. The actual problem, my boss said, is figuring out what caused the moon to explode in the first place.

I also asked her if moon dust is safe for the human body to consume in the hopes that I can still eat my pasta, and she threatened me with bodily harm if I even thought of attempting to do what I wanted to do. I just hung up and went to bed, knowing the next day is gonna be busy.

As part of The Lunar Restoration Program, Stargazer Laboratories has now been tasked by the Global Alliance to find out the cause of the moon’s destruction. My boss, Dr. Valentina Petrova, will be the one leading this operation. I am quite excited to put my efforts toward solving this mystery because we may finally find evidence of intelligent life outside the universe; or maybe this is all a big conspiracy and an UGSS astronaut blew up the moon for their own self-interest. Whatever it is, it’s very exciting stuff.

My name is Dr. Leonard Anderson, and these personal log entries aim to narrate and catalogue what will happen as this operation is going on. Although I do want to emphasize that this is still kinda like my own personal journal, in case this mission blows up in our faces – figuratively or otherwise – and the journalist, historian, or whoever finds this is baffled by the loose language and unnecessary details that will be seen here. So yeah, that’s it. Can’t wait for tomorrow.

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 07.06.2050

Crazy stuff, you guys. The astronauts finally flew in all the chunks that came off the moon for analysis. I also gave them my pasta-stained space rock, as it is still apparently valuable. We also interviewed the astronauts working on the space station that day. They told us that they found no traces of radiation after the explosion, so the use of nuclear weapons is out of the picture. They also found no radio signals or transmissions presenting threatening messages coming from outer space or planet Earth minutes before the event, so there is no evidence of human or alien intervention. Not yet, anyway.

The actual analysis of the moon rocks had revealed little, but what we did find out was interesting nonetheless. We found small traces of purple slime in the craters and small crevices, including the ones in my rock pasta. Finding the damn things took all day because there were a lot of chunks we had to go through and we only found a few traces of it. As of today, we have no idea if it was synthesized in the moon naturally, or someone put it there. We called it a day after that. Chemical analysis will be done tomorrow.

After a long, boring day of getting purple goo out of moon rocks, I finally went to see the Hamilton premiere on Mars with Paolo, Sigrid, and Jane. I don’t know them very well yet since they’re new additions to the team, but they seem cool from the first few hours I hung out with them, so I invited them to go with me. It’s amazing that Hamilton is still getting staged after 35 years, but it’s not very surprising, is it? Holy crap, I’m still getting chills when I watch it. What is amazing, however, is that we were able to see it on Mars at all. The planet was only colonized 10 years ago, and terraforming only started two years after that. We’re only half-way finished with the terraforming, but a fully-functioning atmosphere has already been built, and a few thousand people are already living there, which is incredible. The musical is still awesome whatever planet you stage it on, though. The production turned off the artificial gravity and took advantage of that to its fullest when it came to the choreography. It’s even more amazing than when I saw it back when I was a teenager.

What’s even more amazing, however, is the fact that our boss was also there. Seriously. Because we didn’t think that Dr. Petrova, the scary, muscular Russian lady who looks like she bench-presses bears as a hobby, is a fan of musical theater. We almost snuck out undetected, but she saw us. She invited us to have dinner with her, and we were honestly too scared to refuse.

But now, I am fascinated by her. My boss turns out to be a very chill lady. She has a deep, scary laugh, but that’s the only thing kinda scary about her, along with the muscles and the brooding attitude. So yeah, I guess we only found her scary because she’s our boss, and we never really thought of building a relationship with her outside of work. After that, we sang some zero-g karaoke and had a few drinks. Paolo, the little weakling that he is, vomited after two bottles. Puke is very gross when you look at it floating around. We flew him home after that and went our separate ways. This day did a lot of good easing my anxiety about this moon thing. But man, I am very tired.

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 07.07.2050

Fucking hell, my head hurts. Wait. Why am I recording this right now? It’s only 3 am. What? Oh, damn, I’m still drunk. [snoring]

Holy crap, was this thing turned on all night? Alright. I am now fully awake and sober. I’ll record today’s events after work, as I always do.

[end of audio log]

We finally did chemical analysis on the purple slime. It has some properties that aren’t found on anything else on the planet, but it strangely bears some resemblance to nitroglycerin. Although because of its baffling chemical traits, it does not ignite when lit on fire. Something else probably detonated the slime, although we’re still not sure what it is.

The analysis almost didn’t happen, though. The samples went missing when work started in the morning. We were all frantic trying to find them. Then we found Paolo, bless his hungover ass, standing over the samples with a knife, a jar of peanut butter, and some bread. Dr. Petrova yelled at him, “THAT’S NOT GRAPE JELLY YOU DUMBFUCK!” and some Russian expletives I couldn’t understand. He jumped in surprise and fell on his ass, but otherwise he’s fine. He was sent home for the day because of his hangover. He didn’t eat the samples by accident, fortunately. I think the boss also didn’t punish him or anything, which is fair.

After that clusterfuck of a morning, work went smoothly. The analysis was done, and we found out what we found out. Work ended after that, because all of us were at a loss at what to do. It really seems like it’s an alien object, but we still can’t be sure. For now, we just put it inside the observation chamber. I immediately went home after because I didn’t really feel like hanging out. Solving a mystery’s just too exhausting sometimes, ya know?

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 08.08.2050

I stopped recording for several days after my last audio log because work had been long and busy. I only started again now because the experiments finally yielded results. Well, kind of.

Fucking scorch marks EVERYWHERE, y’all. After almost a month of nothing, the goo exploded again. I had to wake up at 6 am today because of that. My boss called me, absolutely frantic. I just thought that if SHE is panicking, then we are ALL panicking. I showered, got dressed, and ate breakfast in the span of ten minutes and immediately went to the lab like it’s the 2010’s and I had to go there by car because warp gates didn’t exist yet. THAT is how urgent the situation is.

What happened was that the alarms went off because the observation chamber blew up. All my friends and the boss were already there. We looked inside, and the samples got out of their glass cases, but not the room itself. Large-ass scorch marks were seen everywhere. Good thing the entire room is made out of titanium alloys.

Another look-around revealed that most of the room is now covered with purple goo, which means they somehow multiplied. It doesn’t complicate things at all. The security cameras also showed that nobody broke into the lab. An inventory of the items revealed that no equipment was stolen or messed with. Knowing that the observation chamber was still airtight, locked under heavy security, and nothing in it was actually broken, the only conclusion we came to is that the slime slipped through their cases, somehow ignited, then multiplied.

After cleaning up, we put all the slime in titanium-alloy boxes instead of glass ones. We cannot observe it properly that way, but we can’t take any chances, either. Letting it have even the slightest means of escape is dangerous. The only thing we can do for now is to continue analyzing while containing the rest.

We also managed to recover footage from the damaged security cameras inside the observation chamber. What we saw is kinda confusing, and we still don’t know what ignited the slime in the first place. It turns out that it kept exploding inside the glass case and somehow got bigger ang bigger until it got all over the chamber. The source of the explosion is still a mystery. More analysis will be done tomorrow. Hopefully some progress will be made.

Our boss wanted to hang out with us again, and we did not hesitate to say yes. There’s a meteor shower that’s gonna pass through the solar system today, and we can see it up close on Mars. We went there after work, and it was beautiful. The zero-gravity environment and protective force field around the planet allowed us to observe the meteors up close. None of y’all have lived at all if you haven’t seen comets changing colors and streaking through the darkness of space so close you can almost touch them. I haven’t seen such beauty since the first spacecrafts that landed on Mars was televised. Three of us saw Sigrid holding on to Paolo’s arm while they looked up, all mesmerized. Is she in love with him, or, knowing how much of a klutz he is, trying to stop him from careening over the observation deck by accident? We didn’t know. We just let them be.

After that, I realized I forgot my laptop in the lab. My boss said she’d go with me since she wanted to do some last-minute security sweeps and make sure the observation chamber wouldn’t explode again. All my friends went home and I went with my boss. She said she wanted to go there by spacecraft instead of warp gate because she wanted to take in the sights when we travel between Mars and Earth. Being that I have no plans and it’ll only take about an hour and a half anyway, I said sure, why not? She took her craft out of her bag, unshrunk it, and we set course for Earth.

There were some sights worth seeing, alright. Ever since humanity became capable of space travel 30 years ago, we developed a newfound appreciation for it. New quasars recently started to form between the empty spaces of Earth and Mars and I am ecstatic I live in a time I get to see them up close. Those beautiful gas clouds would eventually turn to stars and I cannot wait to see them.

I pondered a bit during that car ride. All this wouldn’t have happened if the planet didn’t get its shit together. 10 years before space exploration became a thing, Earth was on the brink of collapse. Thankfully, every country decided they had enough and actually worked together to finally put a stop to global warming. My parents said that to this day, they still can’t believe the sheer scale of unity that happened back then. From what I have read in history, I couldn’t believe it either. Holy crap, we can actually work together. All of those countries eventually became unified as the Global Alliance, one big-ass country with a big-ass, but more efficient government. All this happened a decade before I was born. I wish I could’ve seen it.

We finally got to the lab, and we did all the things we had to do. But my boss asked me if I can stay with her for a few minutes and have a couple of drinks. Turns out she has a secret stash stored in her office. It’s not late yet, so I said yes. I also wanted to know her better because she honestly seems cool.

We got to talking. I told her about myself; how I grew up in Washington, D.C., nearby what used to be NASA headquarters because my parents both worked there; how I saw the prototype for future spaceships being built; how all that inspired me to work in astronomy and join Stargazer Laboratories, all of it. To my surprise, she pressed further and asked me to tell her stuff about myself that has nothing to do with work or outer space or whatever. I mean… I guess she wants to be friends, too. Okay, sure.

Sorry to disappoint you, I told her, but there really is nothing else to tell. I can sing and play guitar a little bit, but I haven’t done those things in a long time because of work. They’re more of a hobby, really. She cut me off and told me that she actually kinda sings too, which just didn’t surprise me anymore considering she just seems like the type. I dunno, by this time I’ve just learned to throw away my initial impression of her that I got because she is clearly very different from the idea I had in my head. At this point, it’s getting very late, but we both didn’t care, so I just went ahead and asked her stuff about herself. She said she was born and raised in Russia, no surprise there. She also told me how her parents both worked in what used to be Roskosmos, the Russian space agency; how this also served as a catalyst for her to work in astronomy; and how she is also the eldest child, with four younger siblings. Now I know why she can lead a team so well. I thought this entire thing might be awkward at first, but man I am glad this happened. She gave me permission to call her Val outside of work, so I guess we cool now. We finally went home after a few hours. I should stop now. I still have work tomorrow.

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 08.09.2050

As I predicted, I woke up super late this morning; 20 minutes before work started, in fact. It’s times like these I am very grateful for the existence of warp gates. I managed to prepare my tired ass in 10 minutes and get to work. I thought that would be the worst thing that’ll happen today. I still wish that I was right.

I got to work without incident. We conducted more chemical analysis on the definitely alien goo. Yeah, the others say there isn’t enough evidence, but I’m calling it right now; it definitely is. While in the middle of analysis, the power suddenly went out for a few seconds before turning on again. We checked the wiring and the generators after that happened; there was nothing wrong with them. Out of suspicion, I placed an EMP detector in the middle of the room and confirmed that there was an electromagnetic pulse that burst out in that spot — the exact spot where the purple slime was. We immediately contained it in the titanium-alloy box, and then I passed out.

I woke up in an ambulance, but thank heavens I was well enough not to go to the hospital. From what Val and the others told me, the slime exploded again the second we contained it. It was strong enough to break it open, which just gave me a lot of anxiety. Fortunately, it absorbed some of the impact and we were all just knocked out. Some of us have a few bruises — I have one on my left side right now — but aside from that, none of us were badly injured. We didn’t break any bones or anything like that. Aside from broken glass, shattered microscopes, and other things, none of our equipment was badly damaged. The construction crew said everything can be fixed by tomorrow, so most of us just went home early.

Jane went home because she can’t walk very well, but I saw Sigrid and Paolo going somewhere together. I am very sure they didn’t go home; not very surprising from what we’ve seen a few days ago. I also planned on going home, but Val asked me to hang out with her for some reason if I was feeling well. I said yes, since I can still walk fine and all.

She insisted on driving me there instead of just using a warp gate. I saw extreme excitement in her eyes, so I said yes out of curiosity. She said the trip would take about two hours, so I took a nap. I woke up and, to my surprise, we’re nearing Mars. I thought we were going to your house, I asked her. She said yes. Silence hung in there for a bit, then I realized. I mean, while I am kinda surprised that she lives on Mars, it still wasn’t that surprising. She seemed like the sort of person who would do it. But it turns out the surprise does not and there.

I got to her house, and my jaw dropped all the way to the floor of her spacecraft. It looked real fucking amazing. It was a behemoth of a structure. The middle looks like two giant gears. Surrounding it was what basically looked like a bunch of giant spears jutting out of the ground. The most insane part, however, was that the entire thing was made of glass. All of it. Made of glass. Oddly enough, it looked familiar, too; then it hit me. It looks exactly like the glass structure thingy Doctor Manhattan made in Watchmen! I said this to Val, and she looked quite surprised. She said that she planned it on purpose, and I was the very first to notice. Guess that’s another thing we have in common.

The landing bay was in the middle, so that’s where we went. The interior of her house — if you can call this thing a house — looks surprisingly normal. Well, normal for the head scientist of the world’s best space station, at least. It’s still big and all, but it doesn’t give off the scientist vibe. She took me to her living room surrounded top-to-bottom with bookshelves and a large-ass flatscreen TV. She served coffee, and we got to talking.

I saw her own copy of Watchmen and I lost my shit. It was a physical copy! The edges were a bit frayed, which showed that it was a well-read copy. She doesn’t keep it in a glass case because it’s a collector’s item or any of that bullshit, which is dope. Classics are meant to be read, not kept in a shelf to preserve it in “mint condition.” Physical copies of any books are rare these days — not that I’m complaining, since the almost non-existent use of paper did loads of good for the environment — but it’s still nice to see an actual book and not just a holographic facsimile. I saw her suddenly smiling at me like a maniac. “Nice to see you finally nerd out around me,” she said. “It’s nice that I can fully relax around you now,” I told her. She told me not to relax yet because she has a surprise.

She went into another room and gave me this huge box with wrapping paper. I stared at her like an idiot for a few seconds. She asked what was up, and then it occurred to me to look at the date. I felt like a moron in that moment and I told her why; I straight-up forgot it was my birthday today. Holy crap, I’m 30 years old already. She laughed at that. She laughed real hard. I mean, work’s just overwhelming and we might be dealing with eldritch alien horrors beyond our understanding, so it’s not surprising I forgot. After her fit, she finally handed me my gift. I opened it and my day got a whole lot better.

It was a Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure special edition boxed-set. All of the anime adaptations were in it, parts 1 until 10. It’s surprising Jojo even ended at all, but I guess even Araki had to retire at some point. Guess he’s not a vampire after all. But how did she even know I’m a fan? To answer that question, she told me how much I talked non-stop about Jojo back when we got drunk at that karaoke bar on Mars. She got it on video, even; although it was blurry as hell because she was also drunk. Damn, it turns out I talk a lot when I’m hammered. The party got started after that. She suggested we watch it together on her big-ass TV since she also hasn’t watched it in a long time, so we did. Holy crap, the animation looks better on a TV that large. Another fact about Val: she cooks a mean pasta.

After binging season 1, she told me to close my eyes for a bit. Guess the surprises weren’t over yet. I opened them after a few seconds, and my face suddenly got covered in chocolate icing. Turns out she secretly invited Jane and the others while I was distracted. We celebrated some more; we bungee-jumped off her balcony; we ate more food; we jammed to some songs, with me and Val singing some songs while I played guitar. We blended well when we sang some show tunes. It felt good to sing after a long time. I didn’t know that I missed it this much. I can definitely say this is the best birthday ever. Work begins again tomorrow. But for now, I rest. Can’t wait to binge Jojo again after all this.

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 08.10.2050

For the first time in a long while, we finally had a breakthrough! We had to finagle the experiment a bit to get there, too. We already tested for temperature and got no results; putting the goo through varying degrees of temperature does not do anything to it. Lighting it on fire doesn’t yield any results, either. Because of that, we thought that maybe it’s being ignited like an actual bomb by an outside force and not through natural means. The idea we came up with is to simply put a small radio transmitter inside the damn thing. Yup. That’s it. It seems too simple to work, but it surprisingly did.

The transmitter lit up five hours after we put it in. Holy crap, we were right! The goo is somehow receiving radio signals from somewhere we cannot locate. A few seconds later, it exploded inside the two layers of the titanium-alloy box we put it in, so we know that radio signals can pass through the box somehow. I’m quite relieved and excited by this because it means two things: we’re just dealing with a criminal with sophisticated equipment and not extraterrestrial forces or whatever, and the solution to this won’t be too difficult. We just have to track the signal with better equipment, track down the criminal, arrest him and finally get some answers. After that, we put the goo back in the observation chamber with some signal jammers to ensure that it won’t ignite again.

I prepared to go home, since Jane and Sigrid are both sick so after-work hangout seemed impossible. But Val pulled me into her office. Paolo was also there, and apparently, he needs our help. He said that he and Sigrid finally became a thing a couple of days back, after almost a month of dating. Props to them. He said he hasn’t told her about it yet because it’s supposed to be a surprise; he plans on taking her to the restaurant peak of Olympus Mons tomorrow for dinner as their first actual date, and he needs us to take her there. Being the good friends that we are, we immediately said yes. He was so ecstatic he ran out the building skipping and yelling in glee. I was about to leave as well, but Val held me back. Okay, I guess she wants to talk a bit more.

She looked flustered as hell for some reason. I can tell she was blushing under the moonlight coming from her window. She kinda looked cute, actually. She said that it’s already been a month since we became friends, which was true. She also said despite it only being a month, a lot already happened and we were kinda close already and stuff, which was also true. I told her that yes, I also do think we grew closer in that time and that I think she’s really cool, especially after she threw me that surprise party. This was also the point that I asked her where she was going with this, and I am quite aware that I should’ve seen it coming. She told me she liked me for already quite a while now. It all started when I nerded out over her copy of Watchmen, she said, and that she’s been hinting at that the past few times we were hanging out. What I’m about to say next would be an approximation of the play-by-play of my thoughts during that moment and how I reacted: “She was hinting at it? How did I not notice? Am I that oblivious? More importantly though, do I like her back? I mean, she is cool. She lives on Mars on a giant glass mansion. She’s an anime fan, a singer, we click together. She’s a bit loud sometimes. She’s also assertive as a boss and a very chill person outside of work and I am definitely into that. She’s a very good leader and also a great friend and person so what do I really think--?”

That entire thought process went through my brain like lightning. My feelings for her immediately crashed down on me like a waterfall. It was insane. The reason my thoughts just stopped there was because I immediately kissed her suddenly, inside her dark office lit only by moonlight. I imagine she saw me blush after I pulled away. I profusely apologized after that and was almost out the door when I was cut off, this time by her kissing me back. Silence hung in the air for a minute after that.

So, she asked me back. “When did you start liking me?” I thought back, and I said it was probably the first time we drank in her office. We planned an actual date tomorrow, and we finally left the lab. I guess that’s that. I am quite surprised, although I know I shouldn’t have been. I went home feeling a bit giddy and at peace. I am gonna sleep well tonight.

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 08.11.2050

[crying]

It’s been quite a long day. I… I’m not well. I’ll have to start from the beginning.

Work began normally, at first. When this day started, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I had a date after work and I was also gonna help my friends with theirs; I had things to look forward to. But that all changed, just like that. God, I can’t do this.

It all began when Val informed us that Jane had been missing since yesterday. She received a call from the police just this morning; apparently, it seems like someone broke into her house. Signs of a struggle can be found everywhere, and she’s nowhere to be found. So yeah, one can say it was a rough start. We went to work, hoping she eventually gets found.

The uh, the thing happened when we were supposed to start analysis again. Paolo and Sigrid went into the observation chamber to get the sample. The rest of us were setting up equipment when we heard the sound of metal tearing apart. We ran there as fast as we could; I wish I hadn’t got there first.

We were shocked to see Jane there, except by that point, she wasn’t even Jane anymore. Her red hair has been cut short; patches of bald spots could be found everywhere. There were cracks all over her face and body, all glowing purple. Her eyes were also glowing purple and [choking sounds] she was swinging a kitchen knife around. We tried to go in, but she ripped off one of the empty glass cases from the floor and threw it at us with ease. She screamed in a garbled voice that wasn’t hers and lunged at Sigrid with the knife. Paolo pushed her out of the way and he got wounded instead. Sigrid screamed in shock, but she suddenly got cut off when the creature held her on the neck and threw her at the wall head-first, instantly breaking her neck. I can still hear her screaming until now; the moment that scream suddenly got cut off for the last time is still fresh in my mind.

Before any more damage can be done, the creature suddenly collapsed. With all the commotion, we didn’t hear the alarm sounding and the police getting here. They said they used a small taser to take it down; when we investigated, we saw a small, circular thing around its neck. It was the size of a button and probably where the electric shock came from. We immediately worked with the police to restrain the creature, being that we had all the equipment we need. We contained it in a large titanium box, the ones used to transport dangerous criminals. The creature was also restricted in there by titanium straps around her forehead, waist, arms, wrists, legs, and ankles. As a final measure, the box also has electricity running through the outside so that it gets shocked when it breaks the restraints and tries to force its way out. The creature will be interrogated by all of us tomorrow. First, we took care of my friends and gave them a proper burial. After work, I just climbed up onto the roof of the building because the moon looked beautiful and I needed to be alone. Turns out Val had the same idea. We just sat there, alone, not saying anything. Eventually, we just cried with each other for God knows how long until our tear ducts simply dried out. Knowing I can’t bear to be alone right now, I invited her to sleep at my house. She agreed, and we went home.

She’s asleep right now, as I’m recording this. That’s where my life is at, I guess. We’re one step closer to solving this mystery, but my friends have died. That’s simply not fair. [choked sobs] God, I’m gonna miss them so much. We’ve been through a lot now, even though we’ve known each other for only a few months. I hope the creature that took my friend’s body gives us what we need tomorrow. I hope it pays dearly for what it did. [crying]

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 08.12.2050

Just came back from the interrogation today. I won’t record much. I feel a bit sick to my stomach from what I’ve just heard, and I don’t think it’ll go away soon. I’ll just listen to the audio log of the interrogation the ICD was kind enough to share with us.

[end of audio log]

Interplanetary Crimes Division

Interrogation Audio Log #48783

This is Detective Charles Chapman speaking for the Interplanetary Crimes Division offices located in Tromsø, Norway. Just yesterday, one of the scientists at Stargazer Laboratories had brutally murdered two other scientists there and had also caused significant damage to some equipment. Considering that the perpetrator seemingly has inhuman strength, glowing skin, and other physiological anomalies that cannot be found in other human beings, the possibility that the perpetrator is no longer human but merely an empty shell being used is being considered as a possibility. The creature is now properly restrained inside a titanium box with titanium straps. The cage is also lined with electricity and is inside a forcefield. The interrogation will be conducted with me outside the forcefield; communication will only be done through wireless communicators.

Detective Chapman: Who are you?

The Creature: [silence]

DC: Do you have a name?

H: I am called Helvig, but my people have given me the moniker of The Oncoming Storm, for all the planets I have brought destruction upon.

DC: If I recall correctly, your friends told me that your name is Jane.

Helvig: The one you call Jane is no more. What you see before you is nothing more than her empty body, hollowed out when I took possession of it.

DC: OKAY. I’m glad we cleared that up. I guess the next thing I have to ask is, how did you manage to infiltrate this planet?

H: I came here when I destroyed your moon using what you call the purple slime as my weapon. I hitched a ride inside one of the resulting debris then took possession of this biped’s weak body. Do you know how hard it is to control human brains? It took me almost a month to assert total dominance.

DC: Really? Well, if that’s the case, how come you’ve been able to manipulate your weapon before that?

H: I have been able to assert a tiny bit of control before, although this biped didn’t know it at the time. I’m just damned unlucky that the times I gained little authority over this body and attempted to kill you all didn’t amount to anything.

DC: I guess that answers that. So why are you here? Why this planet in particular?

H: Why do you think I am called The Oncoming Storm? I am here to bring destruction, nothing more.

DC: Now, why would you do that? Were you ordered to do so by your people?

H: My people are no more. My planet was destroyed when two stars near the place your people call the Kuiper Belt collided; the resulting supernova destroyed my home, and the blast was so strong it propelled my ship all the way to your moon. Had I not found this body to possess, I might have died. But I am here, and this planet shall be destroyed in the memory of my people.

DC: If I may ask again, why? What could the destruction of this planet possibly do for you?

H: Nothing! It will do nothing for me! My people are gone, and my planet is no more. Keeping up our tradition of destruction will be the only way of preserving their memory. After your planet, other ones that bear life will also fall by my hand.

DC: Well, thank you for answering my questions without any fuss. You are the politest criminal I have ever talked to; you know that?

H: Thank you, Charles.

DC: In return, I will extend the same courtesy; do not attempt to destroy this planet. Humanity has advanced beyond your imagination, and there are a lot of us. You will not succeed.

H: [laughter] None of you can stop me! The only reason I gave you information freely is because I know none of you will be able to do anything; you weaklings only managed to restrain me because my powers have not settled into this weak body yet! Give it a bit more time, and I will burn this place to the ground. After this, your planet comes next! [laughter]

I decided to end it there, because I’ve gotten all that I need. Orders from the top brass indicate that the next course of action to be taken would be a joint effort with Stargazer Laboratories to find ways to defeat this creature and save the planet.

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 08.13.2050

I guess I was wrong. We are dealing with aliens. If not for what’s happened, I would be very happy right now. But not even getting a definitive answer to the question of “are we alone in the universe?” would excite me; especially because one of the answers to that question just killed three of my friends and is now controlling one of their dead bodies like a puppet. Work has been postponed due to the damages our lab has taken, so I honestly don’t know why I’m making the effort to record right now; it’s not like something’s gonna happen today, anyway. Maybe I just need to distract myself from the quiet.

I tried to distract myself by other means, of course. I attempted to binge that Jojo box set I have, but it didn’t work; memories of my surprise birthday party just resurfaced. It’s just too painful. [sobbing]

I… I can’t. I just… I just, can’t. It’s not fair! [crashing sounds] [crying] It’s not fa- [static]

[end of audio log]

There you go. So I, uh… I may have gone berserk earlier, but I’m doing kinda better now. I broke my audio log recorder, but I think I’ve fixed it. Before I stop though, something did happen today that’s worth recording, so… I’m glad for that.

After crying for I don’t actually know how long, somebody rang my doorbell. I looked through my security cameras and found Val standing in my doorway; which honestly came as a surprise, until it occurred to me that she probably wants to check how I’m doing. It stung a bit, knowing that I was too sad and didn’t even think about doing the same for her. I hastily prepared myself and went downstairs.

She looked kinda disheveled and sad, like she’s on a great rush to get here; she had that sad look on her eyes, too. But that’s hardly a surprise, is it? What was a surprise, however, was how beautiful she looked despite all of that. It just so happens that my house has an awe-inspiring view of the hills, and the sunset just happened to hit her as she stood by my door. My day got marginally better after that.

I let her in, and we talked. I asked her if she was okay, and she told me she’s holding up as well as I am, after a cursory look around the mess I made just before she showed up. My recorder was broken in some parts; furniture was everywhere; my glass table was in pieces, all that stuff. We sat in quiet for a while. She eventually told me if I wanted to have the date that we had to postpone two days ago. It took me about two full minutes to think about it, but I said yes; it looked like we both needed it.

We warped to the grassy, quiet park on Olympus Mons; I’m still amazed at how far humanity has gone in terraforming. She prepared a picnic and everything. I cooked some pasta, because of course I did I’m good at it, and I needed a win today. The whole thing wasn’t very eventful, but it was exactly what we needed. We talked, like we always talked. We looked down from the mountain we were on top of, and the view was exhilarating. We looked up, and stared in awe of the stars above us. We reminisced, and remembered the moments we had with them; how Paolo got drunk and vomited in zero gravity; how Sigrid bungee-jumped from the top of Val’s roof and the anti-climactic result of it as we remembered that the artificial gravity was turned off; how Jane accidentally got a face full of cake when I threw it at her; all these memories and others, we remembered last night under the stars on top of the tallest mountain on Mars. It stings, remembering them; but it’s also comforting, somehow.

The nature of our friendship was contemplated as well. If Earth didn’t get its shit together all those years ago, the Global Alliance wouldn’t exist today; all the space travel and huge technological leaps wouldn’t have happened, and travel between countries would still be a pain. We were lucky that we were all brought together in one place. Thinking about the unlikeliness of our friendship just made both of us sadder, considering what happened. We eventually got up and left the mountain.

One last thing we wanted to do before going home was to visit the places where they’re now buried. We already conducted a funeral for them after the creature got arrested and sent them back to their families, but we wanted to see them again, so we can properly say goodbye this time.

First, we warped our way to Brazil to visit Paolo. His family was there, watching over him. We quietly mourned with them for a few minutes, although it felt longer than that. We eventually gave our condolences and left. Our next stop was Sweden, where Sigrid is. No one was watching over her grave, but we did see a few freshly-lit candles around it. The cold winds were swirling all around us, but we hardly noticed them at all. We had no idea how long we stayed, but the cold did get to us eventually, and we left. Our last stop for the night was in Canada, Jane’s home. This visit just made us sadder because we know that her grave is empty; her family will never have a body to bury. No one else was there, which wasn’t strange, considering it’s almost midnight, but we weren’t alone for long when two young women came there; they were her two younger sisters, it turns out. They brought warm tea, and they were kind enough to share it with us. We talked, reminisced about the memories we have with her, and we mourned. Before leaving, Val and I promised them that while we cannot bring their sister back, we can put her to rest by putting the creature down permanently.

I brought her back to Mars. We said our goodbyes, kissed for God knows how long because we didn’t count, and we went home. I… I miss them. I miss them so damn much. [crying]

[end of audio log]

Stargazer Laboratories

Log Entry – 08.15.2050

[crying]

I’ll admit. Considering what I’m about to do, I am scared. I fear that I may not come back from this, but strangely, I am also at peace. This insane, dangerous plan has a high chance of success, and I am more than willing to do it. But first, let’s go back to the beginning.

Yesterday, I got a call from the ICD at 6 am telling me that the prisoner has escaped. Apparently, it got out of its restraints and simply destroyed both the cage and the forcefield using brute strength alone. The thing that is defiling my friend’s body got stronger, just like it said it would. It killed almost all of the police officers before everyone got out and put the building on lockdown. The entire building was then launched through the sky via rockets attached to the foundation as a last resort security measure; it is now floating just a little bit above the atmosphere, surrounded by a bigger forcefield. The creature will be kept in there, but not for long. I immediately prepared and went to the lab with the others; I imagine they got the same call.

We immediately started to formulate a plan to defeat the creature. According to the police, the forcefield will only last until about 4 am today until it runs out of power. There’s also the trouble of the creature getting even stronger than it is now, so we had to account for that, too. The only consolation we have is that it can only use its psychic powers to activate the slime and nothing else; it has to be near it, too. One of the police officers suggested that we simply just have the rockets push the building farther into space, but that was shot down; the rockets simply weren’t built for that, so it doesn’t have enough fuel. We also thought of just straight-up making the building explode, but Detective Chapman shot this idea down, too. Turns out he already fired a couple rockets at the creature and it simply kept walking, unscathed. Our last idea was to warp the entire building to the other end of the universe, but we realized it was also futile; warp gates were made with humans in mind. Creating one as big as a building has never been done before; it might collapse in on itself and implode, or create a black hole that will destroy the Earth. We came to the conclusion that there is only one way to solve this once and for all; one of us has to go up there and destroy the creature ourselves.

A drone was sent to fly near the building and investigate. The entire structure was reduced to rubble. The creature was jumping around, throwing large chunks of debris at the forcefield in an attempt to destroy it. That gave us the drive to really solve this as soon as possible. I remembered what the creature told us back then; how it got to Earth because a supernova propelled its ship here while it’s trying to escape. Then I had a crazy idea.

I told them that the energy of two collapsing stars was the only thing we know of that almost destroyed the creature; I remembered how it told us it was on the verge of death and only survived because it found a host. Then I told them my idea; find three stars that’s the nearest to Mars, put an artificial gravity drive between them, wait for them to move towards each other, then siphon off the energy from the resulting supernova into the engine of a laser cannon. This is the easy part. The next step is that said laser cannon with the energy of three collapsed stars now have to be attached to a spacecraft and fired directly at the creature. The resulting recoil may destroy said ship; or it won’t. This is something no one has actually done before, so none of us are quite sure how this will happen. None of us can come up with a new plan, so this is what we have to go with.

We found three stars near each other just beyond the outskirts of Mars. Siphoning off large amounts of energy in a supernova was terrifying, but not actually that difficult. I, and two other scientists, finished the job in just a couple of hours. Val and I worked together to design a laser cannon strong enough to handle the energy of three stars. The next thing we have to do now is to decide who’s gonna fly up there and do the job. The ICD can’t do it; only two of them are left. One has no combat experience, and the other is Detective Chapman, who’s simply too old for the job. We can’t ask for help from the military, or the other offices of the ICD, either. All of the warp gates in the lab had been damaged, and the personal warp gates we’re carrying had also been messed up due to the star radiation we had to work with. We’re all alone in this.

I looked around the room and realized that the only person who can do this is me. I told this to the others, and Val vehemently opposed it, as I expected. After a shouting match, I told her we just have to talk it out in private. It didn’t really work; we just shouted at each other louder since no one was around to hear us. We finally ran out of energy and just sat down.

So… yeah. After calming down enough to talk, she asked me why I thought I’m the only one who can do it. I told her it’s because I built both the cannon and the modified ship with her, so I’m the only one who can use them. I also want to be the one to personally put the creature down. She got angry at me, told me that she’ll be the one to do it instead, since she knows the machines as well as I do. I tried to talk back, but she was still so angry and started speaking Russian, like she always does when she’s mad. I did something I didn’t expect to do; I laughed. It was real, too. I haven’t had one like it in what feels like a long time. She started laughing, too. We just did that until we ran out of breath again.

I explained to her that this was exactly what she did when I asked her if I can eat my rock pasta; it was also what she did when Paolo almost ate the purple goo. I told her that I love this about her; how passionate and caring she is for the ones that she loves; how I do not want her passion to be snuffed out of this world too early; and how I am sure I am the only one who can do this because she can still lead Stargazer Labs further into the future. I told her how I wanted her to see Earth and the rest of humanity go further into the reaches of space. Finally, I told her the simplest and most important reason why it has to be me; I told her I love her. I love her very much and I cannot bear to see her die and that is why I have to do this. After that, we just broke down together. The tears just kept flowing. She told me she loves me, too. She told me she can’t bear to see me go, either, but I told her she has to go on. I told her again how the lab needs her, and after this, probably the world. We just kept quiet, savoring each other’s company for what might be the last time. We eventually slept for two hours, in each other’s arms. We got up and made the last preparations. We had another short meeting on how things would be done. I simply have to fly up there and aim directly at the creature. Sounds too easy, but we all know it isn’t. After saying goodbye to them, I excused myself for a bit and ended up here.

It is now 3 am, August 15, 2050. I will do what I need to do half an hour from now. From what we’ve seen of the drone footage, the forcefield will last until 4 am, as predicted. I wish I was recording this at home, using my own recorder, but I have no way to get there, so here I am, using the only functional one in the lab. I’m gonna end it here, so suffice it to say the next words I’ll be saying may be my last.

Val, I love you. I know you’re my boss, but I’m glad we did away with the professional awkwardness that might have arisen and just found the time to relax with each other. I am so happy that we met outside of work during that Hamilton premiere on Mars. I thought that I have what I wanted out of life, working in a space station; I am happy you were the one who proved me wrong. [crying] I love you, Val. If these are the last things I will ever say, then I want them to be these words. I love you, and I always will.

[end of audio log]

Log Entry – 10.15.2050

It’s been two months, Leo. Two months. Two long, agonizing months since you passed. [crying]

It’s still clear as day, what happened. I remembered the kiss we shared before you took off. I remembered seeing the blast from the cannon finally incinerate the creature after a minute. I remember how we cheered when we saw you succeed, then suddenly get silenced when your engine blew up. I remember being horrified seeing you fall back down to Earth, then zooming in on the cockpit and seeing you smile one last time before the drone was destroyed by the blast.

The charred remains of the ship landed just outside the lab. Although burned, you somehow managed to stay in one piece. After that, we did what we were supposed to do. We cleaned up the lab and the ship, and we had your funeral a few days later. I was the one who gave your eulogy, you know that? I hope you heard it, and I hope you liked it if you did.

This is the first time in a while I came back to Olympus Mons. I finally had the courage to go after hearing the message you left for me. Your parents let me have a copy of the other audio logs you did. I’ll admit, I haven’t been doing well in a while, but hearing your voice again really helped me.

I think it’s finally time. You said you wanted me to see space travel advance further, right? I already have an idea. Since we now know that life exists outside of Earth, I thought of how maybe we can come up with ways to reach them. I know the last species we interacted with almost destroyed us, but I know there’s more of them out there. Perhaps they are kinder. Perhaps they’re willing to break bread with us. I was thinking of calling it “The Cosmic Unity” project but it sounds too tacky, doesn’t it? I just hope I already have a proposal I can pass to the Global Alliance in a year or so. All of this is for you, Leo. All of it. It’s for the sake of the planet’s progress, too, but it is for you I do this, most of all. [sobbing]

I love you, Leo. I love you more in every day that passes.

[end of audio log]

#short story #writing

[junker-town]

Reggie Jackson and the true definition of ‘clutch’

Reggie Jackson embodied ‘clutch,’ even if we now know that’s fake.

Oct. 18, 1977. World Series Game 6. Los Angeles Dodgers at New York Yankees. Three pitchers, three consecutive at-bats, three pitches, three home runs.

Over his postseason career, Reggie Jackson hit for a .278 average with 18 home runs, 48 RBIs and 41 runs, making him one of the most productive players in playoff history. He won the World Series MVP award twice, in 1973 and 1977.

For nearly a decade, Jackson did the impossible. By the numbers, he was merely an average hitter in the regular season. But come every October, he shifted into another gear. Whatever setback or obstacle he faced, he bounced back. He hit harder. He became a rarified talent. It raised the question: What makes Reggie Jackson so special?

“Clutch” is a widely debated term. Sabermetrician Bill James once wrote, “How is it that a player who possesses the reflexes and the batting stroke and the knowledge and the experience to be a .260 hitter in other circumstances magically becomes a .300 hitter when the game is on the line? How does that happen? What is the process? What are the effects? Until we can answer those questions, I see little point in talking about clutch ability.” James isn’t wrong, yet to say that Jackson wasn’t clutch would be sacrilege. “Clutch” might be the thing he was most destined to become.

As a high school athlete, Jackson participated in football, basketball, baseball, and track and field. His athletic career nearly ended when he fractured five cervical vertebrae in the final football game of his junior year. Jackson was told he’d never walk again.

He persisted anyway. Recruited heavily for football, Jackson accepted a scholarship to Arizona State University. He tried out for the baseball team on a $5 bet (who else but Jackson could begin a Hall of Fame career on a bet?), and hit a home run on the second pitch he saw, all while wearing his football equipment. He’d quit football after one season to focus on baseball full-time. In 1966, during his sophomore season, Jackson broke the team record for most home runs in a single season and was named a first-team All-American.

The Kansas City Athletics selected Jackson second overall in the 1966 Major League Baseball draft. During his first season in the minors, he split his time between Lewiston and Modesto, hitting .297 with 23 home runs. The following year, he was promoted to Double-AA Birmingham, batting .293 with 17 home runs and 58 RBI in 114 games. The numbers raised expectations for Jackson as a hitter high.

Jackson made his major league debut with the Kansas City Athletics on June 9, 1967. He played in just 35 games, batting .178 with one home run and six RBIs; not quite the splash one hopes to make in their debut. In another year, the Athletics franchise would relocate from Kansas City to Oakland.

During his first season in Oakland, Jackson hit .250 with 29 home runs and 74 RBIs. He struck out a career-high 171 times, leading the American League in whiffs. Yet even with the strikeouts and low production, Jackson finished 17th in the 1968 AL Most Valuable Player award race. He had nearly 100 more strikeouts than RBIs that season, but voters saw potential.

Jackson would receive MVP votes in seven of his eight seasons with Oakland, though he never recorded a batting average above .300, topping out at .293 in his MVP-winning 1973 season. He led the league in strikeouts and home runs twice, and RBIs just once (in 1973). Yet even the heights of his regular season success couldn’t foreshadow his postseason career.

Even then, Jackson took his time becoming “Mr. October”. In 1972, the A’s repeated as AL West division champs and played the Detroit Tigers in the American League Division Series. In Game 5, Jackson stole home to secure the lead, but he tore his hamstring in the process, leaving him unable to play in the World Series. Though he had been instrumental in the A’s success, a setback forced Jackson to watch his team win its first championship in 42 years.

In his return for the 1973 season, Jackson led the Athletics to their third consecutive AL West pennant. Oakland advanced to the World Series again and, this time, Jackson was in the lineup. Against the New York Mets, Jackson came up big, hitting a two-run home run in Game 7 to help propel Oakland to a 5-2 victory and secure its second consecutive championship.

Though his tenure in Oakland ended after the 1974 season, Jackson’s legend had only just begun.

A left-handed hitter who stood with his feet wide apart, Jackson doesn’t refer to his hitting stance as open or closed, but parallel. Strictly a power hitter, he didn’t get his power from his stance, but from his arms, legs, and timing. According to Jackson, “How you walk to the plate can be important. You can tell which hitters ‘own’ which pitchers just by how they go up there. In a game situation, I might go into that act even if I don’t hit that pitcher too well. Hey, maybe he doesn’t remember.”

Jackson’s confidence made him a legend in the making to his contemporaries. Catfish Hunter told the New York Times in 1976, “He can be a lot of things, but he can help a club a lot more than he can ever hurt it. You know he’s going to talk a lot, but you know he’s going to produce a lot along with that talking. Everybody in Oakland respected him because we knew when he got hot, he could knock in enough runs to carry the whole team. If he gets hot, at Yankee Stadium, he could hit 60 home runs.”

Hunter’s words proved to be prophetic. After one dismal season with Baltimore in 1976, Jackson, in a game changing free agent signing, joined the New York Yankees with a five-year contract totaling $2.96 million. Jackson solidified his mythos in New York City. He helped the Yankees win two consecutive World Series in 1977 and 1978.

During batting practice before Game 6 of the 1977 World Series, Jackson hit three pitches into the third level of Yankee Stadium’s seats. It was a kind of foreboding. In the second inning, Burt Hooten walked him. But in the fourth, Jackson hit the first pitch into the right field bleachers. Then, in the fifth inning with two out and two on, he hit another first-pitch home run, this time off of Elias Sosa. And in the eighth inning, Jackson made history. He hit the first pitch he saw from Charlie Hough into the centerfield bleachers.

Those moments cemented Jackson forever in baseball lore, but they may also be an example of how a human desire to believe in heroics can create narratives out of coincidences.

Clutch hitting has been studied for decades. Dick Cramer, the first baseball analyst to attempt to disprove clutch hitting, published “Do Clutch Hitters Exist?” in SABR’s Baseball Research Journal in 1977 and found that clutch hitting was more a matter of chance than skill. Then in 1985, the Elias Sports Bureau came up with its own definition of clutch to challenge Cramer’s findings. It looked at how hitters performed in late-inning pressure situations, or LIPS, which is defined as any at-bat in the seventh inning or later, with the batter’s team trailing by three runs or less (or four runs if the bases are loaded).

By that measure, Jackson wasn’t a clutch standout. He hit .344 in LIPS, which made him a roughly 25th percentile clutch hitter. But the metric has its limitations. LIPS’ strict parameters creates a lot of small samples sizes that lead to wonky conclusions. For example, according to Elias, the single-best clutch performance between 1974 and 2003 was by Manny Trillo, who batted .466 in LIPS in 1981. No one considers Manny Trillo to be clutch.

Others tried to solve the clutch conundrum. In 1990, Pete Palmer published a study that found no difference between the actual distribution of players’ clutch stats to what would be observed if performing in the clutch was completely random. In 2004, “The Book” — written by Tom Tango, Michael Lichtman, and Andy Dolphin — attempted to prove the existence of clutch hitting by using on base percentage instead of batting average. It did discover evidence of clutch performance, finding that roughly one in six players have a .008 OBP improvement in clutch situations. A study by statistician David Grabiner then took issue with that meager finding and found that “the correlation between past and current clutch performance is .01, with a standard deviation of 0.07. In other words, there isn’t a significant ability in clutch hitting. If there were, the same players would be good clutch hitters every year.”

The body of study isn’t conclusive, but it does not support Jackson (or anyone, really) as a clutch hitter. He struggled in the ALCS, his postseason batting average over 11 appearances in the championship series a paltry .227. He actually earned the name “Mr. October” after Thurman Munson used the name sarcastically after Jackson hit .125 in the 1977 ALCS.

But Jackson himself doesn’t buy the idea that clutch hitting is a fallacy. “Are you telling me that when you’re down to one shot, Michael Jordan is no different from anybody else?” he told Sports Illustrated in 2004. “How can you tell me Tiger Woods doesn’t play better under pressure? Jack Nicklaus was the same as anybody else?” Sabermetrics can’t account for the magic of a big moment.

No one believed in Jackson quite the way Jackson himself did, and then confidence in the face of facts undeniably contributed to his greatness. He stole bases, drove in runs, hit for power and he had the swagger to go with it. “I am not merely a baseball player,” he said. “I am a black man who has done what he wants, gotten what he wanted and will continue to get it.

“You see, on the field I am a surgeon,” Jackson added. “I put on my glove and this hat. And I put on these shoes. And I go out on the field, and I cut up the other team. I am a surgeon. No one can quite do it the way I do.”

Not a particularly “smart hitter,” Jackson finished his career with more strikeouts than hits. And yet, when he hit, it counted. He showed up to swing hard and hit home runs, once saying he’d “rather hit than have sex.”

Jackson needed just three swings of his bat to become known as one of the most clutch hitters in baseball history. He was a man of the big moment. It seemed as if the pressure made him a better, more focused hitter, despite what his numbers might say.

To many, the idea of a player being “clutch” is a myth because it can’t be properly measured. But maybe the idea of clutch hitting doesn’t need to be supported by science or math or fancy stats. That’s what Jackson made us believe, anyway, every time he hit one out of the park whenever the Yankees needed it.

That belief may be unfounded in reality, but that belief, in Jackson’s case, only makes his story better. And in that case, why would anyone ever question the legend of Mr. October?

[dylodandria-blog]

HGP Ch. 4.2

Ch. 4.2

****WARNING 18+ only recommended – mentions of abuse and bodily harm! You have been warned!****

*FLASHBACK*

THE NEXT MORNING

You were utterly exhausted after finally having a real full meal you passed out like a light being turned off. You wake to hearing Bear talking with Hell who you learned last night her name was Rachel.

Bear: “I think I understand now why General Bates did nothing now, even when we told him we had to the leave the island that too many of the dead had made it pass the defenses. If what you told me is in those journals is even half true, that sick bastard would have never let her leave; I think General Bates knew it too. I need to ask Lionel what happened in that room when he killed Dr. Harris. I need to know if that fucker tried to take her with him.”

You crack your eyes open and see Lionel against the other wall asleep. Propped up on his rifle. You learned a great deal of information that sick bastard kept from you or just lied about. You had been told there were only military personnel there, no civilians. You had assumed all the “volunteers” were like you veterans or military personnel. Not that you had bothered to talk to them.

It was weeks maybe a month or a little more when you stopped talking altogether, after he put you and the others into that room. That’s when you changed irrevocably for what you assumed would be the short rest of your life. Still remembering the pain from the bites and scratches. The bones chilling cold that made you feel like you were being scrapped against broken glass every time you moved, from the fever afterwards. Flashing in and out of conscientiousness’ and seeing that sick f*cks face with that shit eating grin when you finally woke up. Like he had done the impossible.

Technically; you begrudgingly had to admit he had done the impossible, but only with you. It drove him even more insane as he could not make everyone immune like you. He would take too much blood, even started taking “samples” he called them of tissue he would either take from your legs, he even performed surgery on you a few times to take biopsies of your liver. You lost count of all the scars. Didn’t matter anyway, you knew you would never get out of there.

It seemed too good to be true like a dream almost that the sick f*ck was finally dead.

*A shot rang out*

*Beep* the radio on the table pings. “This is Bear who took that shot? Over.” *Beep*

*Beep* “Sir, wasn’t one of ours,” came a whispered reply; “I think we should move out we’re not alone out here anymore; I can hear some screaming to the east, it doesn’t sound good Sir. Over.” *Beep*

*Beep* “This is Bear to all personnel, pack up we leave in 5. Over and out.”  *Beep*

Multiple beeps on the radio all come in affirmative or acknowledged. “Wilco”

Hell shakes Jacobsen awake, Lionel had already gotten up and grabbed his bag; he started to make his way to you, but you stand before he can get to you.

They all freeze and wait for you to move, do something…

After a few moments of silence, you try to speak…

“Th__…” Your voice cracks with disuse, you look at them each and try again. “ _he..” It’s no use, your throat is already beginning to throb with the small effort you already made. Hell moves towards you and you back away until you realize she’s holding a notebook and a pen.

Hell: “Here, use this...” She hands you the note book.

Taking the note book you write as quickly as possible – “the sounds are from the east, right? We need to go North, North East; the logging trail will take us to top of the mountain here. But from there it is hiking and game trails only down the other side, until you reach the river.”

You hand it back to Hell and she reads it aloud to everyone.

Bear: “So you do know where we are?” He looks at you with interest. “You don’t know us, and you’re taking our word for everything we told you last night. Why help us? We could be lying to you.”

Hell hands you back the notepad, you sigh in frustration and your hand begins to cramp up from disuse – “Because I have no choice, and you can’t be lying about that f*cker being dead. There hasn’t been a time he didn’t come to see me before I passed out or a time he didn’t wake me up himself. He must be dead or he’d be here now; besides if I don’t help you I will most likely die here on this mountain.” You give her back the notepad.

As she reads it aloud she hesitates when she reads about him seeing you to sleep and waking you every day. Bear nods his head and everyone piles into the food truck and a head count comes over the radio.

*Beep* “Sir, it’s Bane, we lost a few of the civvies last night. Looks like the 3 of them, they took off and took one of the pistols with them. They told Sarah they would head East, wanted her to go with them. Over.”   *Beep*

*Beep* “Understood Bane, the shot we heard must be them then.”   *Beep* ~” Fucking idiots the sound only attracts them.” He says aloud to no one in particular.

*Beep* “Alright take inventory of all your gear and see what else is missing, when we next stop, I want a report. Over and out.”   *Beep*

*Beep* “Roger, wilco. Bane over and out.”

*END FLASHBACK*

High up in your tree you quietly chuckle to yourself. *Still can’t believe Bear took a risk and believed me* You shake your head.

Lionel or “Angel” as you finally came to call him; which he liked to pretend he hated. You gave him the nick name after you heard his call sign from the other’s, “Silent Angel”. He nudged you and nodded his head at you. *He wants to know what made me smile, since you rarely do so.*

You tap your head and point to the clouds above you and tap your head again. He nods his head in understanding. He knows you were just remembering something from before. It’s happened a few times, while you sit in a blind quietly taking your turn at watch while hunting game at the same time.

You’ve gotten to know one another well, neither of you talking much to the other, mostly hand signals, rolling eyes… usually was enough communication between you, which meant words really weren’t necessary. They all tried to get you to talk Hell, Jacobsen before he was lost and Bear too. Even Bane took a crack at it a time or two.

They all just kind of dealt with you not being a talker and staying to yourself most the time. Which didn’t bother you any really, it was a relief after all that time not needing to talk yet being understood. Your voice still cracked on the rare occasions you did say something, but when you did everyone listened.

It still unnerved you every time, anyone in hearing reach would hear you they would stop what they were doing to listen. You hated being the center of attention.

Ever since it spread through your small group what happened to you and what you had become. People stopped trying to leave the group, they no longer felt that the marines weren’t capable of protecting them. Because they knew they had to protect me. And they thought then I was their best bet at a cure. 

Bear however, saw to it though that all were trained with weapons, knives, sticks it didn’t matter. He told everyone that it would take us all if we were to survive now; that no one person could sit out, that was not an option. Everyone helped, everyone took turns hunting, scavenging homes; apartments, cars even…

You look down at your weapons you scavenged over time; throwing blades attached to wrist holsters, your Kodachi that was typically on your left hip was absent today in favor of the 2 wakizashi, one on each hip that you found in the basement of a house mounted on the wall with several old riffles. You and Angel a few weeks back found them when you had gone scavenging; the dead man Angel found upstairs must have been the owner; had killed himself, he must have been a collector of sorts.

Hell taught you how to use them, she apparently had taken sword lessons when she was in her 20’s. Turned out everyone in your group that had become your new family; had something they brought to the table. They took Bear seriously, no one slacked off. Everyone pitched in and we all learned how to use a variety of weapons. We lost people along the way despite all the training and effort the marines put into it, Jacobsen was one of the first just a little over a month after getting you out of that hell hole, he was bitten during a run. We tried to give him my blood directly, but it didn’t work. We lost him that night.

I felt like an outcast whenever I was around everyone and would be stared at, someone that was tolerated simply because I was made to be immune. So I normally ate alone to avoid being around everyone. I had hoped it would fade, and it has. Now they really only pay attention to me if I speak. I try and do as little of that as possible.

It took Bear and Hell a while to agree to finally let me go on runs. They said that even though I was immune, it didn’t mean I couldn’t be taken out by a bullet or knife from some twisted soul out there. So, I received twice the training all the others got. It sucked but I understood. Even if no one could reproduce my immunity I had to stay alive in case we found someone that could.

Our new home was impressive; the first few we had eventually failed one way or another. Until we came across an old marble mine close by to an newer quarry that had since the world went to shit been abandoned. Much of the heavy equipment though was still there some no longer operated but it didn’t stop us from moving them and using them as blockade material. Lots of marble had already been cut waiting to be shipped on trucks. We had to scavenge parts from places near and far to get some of the trucks up and running.

We had crossed much of the country and made it all the way to Washington DC. When Angel did a recon of the area he found the marble quarry and came back to our makeshift camp with the news.

So, we set up in the mine fortified the blocked gate and would make runs to and from the marble mine setting up quarry like an old fortress made from marble.

Even though my blood was no good for curing a bite or scratch, it turned out to be good to fortify the sick. We had an outbreak of some kind of flu a year ago…? Still no way to keep track of time, even if I can now see the moon and sun daily.

I have no idea how long I was in there. Hell had kept track for a time but eventually she had given it up. We gave Sarah some of my blood when we realized she was getting worse fast, Hell had no idea if it would work.

But between her and I we were able to figure out with the charts and chemical compounds he used he had done something to my immune system that made it act faster and better than everyone else’s.

We still lost a few though to that flu, one of the older men and a few new people that had joined our little group. The old and poorly nourished, food had become a problem at that time, game was scarce and seemingly everything had been picked over where ever we went. Even with my blood in them we still lost them. It was turning out I was not a cure all, but more of an enigma.

Some of the chemical compounds that sick bastard used, even I didn’t know what they were. I was a science geek growing up. I raided book stores and libraries alike taking whatever science book I could find back with me to our “home”. Nothing helped, but Hell, she never gave up.

I had given up, I walked away I was sick of having to look at his handwriting, hearing his voice in my head as I read what he wrote. Bear had caught me, the one day I had finally worked up the courage to open one of his journals and read it. I had nearly destroyed it by tossing t into the fire; Bear retrieved it, he kept those with him from then on, never allowing me near them again.

My blood couldn’t really do much more than act as a booster for regular illness’s or infections. I felt useless, so I made myself useful by learning how to handle different weapons. In the military, I was pretty good with a riffle but I’m crap with a pistol. It was Hell that found out I was good with a blade and took to training me.

Hell and I got along really well, she had been a nurse before all this; and when I finally started to let her in I told her I had been a surgical technician in the military.

It’s how I knew all the surgical procedures he did on me. Since he would read from his journal to me every day and show me things he was doing and explaining them was how I knew most of the chemical compounds he used. The documents weren’t complete some were damaged by fire, others torn or stained with something or another rendering them useless. But Hell insisted we keep them anyway. If we could find a way to read them she didn’t want them to be lost forever by our ignorance.

*****

Lionel nudged me again away from my thoughts and indicated down the road to a truck that was coming. I nodded to another tree across the field of dead closer to where the truck would undoubtedly need to stop by if they didn’t want to get mobbed.

We had come out here in hopes of finding people. It was agreed we would all take turns 2 weeks out on recon for people. Angel and I made it south in a little under a week. We were not far from Charlotte and only had a day or 2 before we had to head back.

One trick Angel and I had found was that the dead didn’t react to me the way they did to everyone else…, well everyone else that was still alive that is.

In fact, they didn’t react at all to me, that is if I moved slowly. When we got back from that run Hell made an educated guess it was because I might not be “fully immune”; she said I could be a carrier but incapable of contracting it, whatever “it” was.

Like someone that was exposed to chicken pox but never got it, but if you examined their blood you would find they had the virus in their system. Since I had scratched Lionel that day I woke up, she believes I am not contagious. She said that was all she could give me though.

Oh, I wasn’t fully protected from them a few newer bite scars that now accompany all the others have given proof of that. Lionel, Bear and I had to do several “experimental tests” to see just what I could and could not do.

Which normally translated into me running away as fast as I could before my ass got bit… again, or worse...

I couldn’t run or make any fast movements around them. I couldn’t talk around them either… not that I talked much anyways… I couldn’t raise my hand up in the air, we found out any noise I made would attract them just like everyone else too, we found that one out one day when I sneezed… That was not a fun day...

Now I wear full sleeves and normally a hood or scarf to cover my neck where the scratches are. Long pants typically too; my favorite are the leather skins I had sewn together like patch work from the skins of the kills both Angel and I got, it’s the easiest to move in and run in if need be.

*I’m normally covered head to toe. But it really sucks in this southern heat to be completely covered. I’m sweating and getting itchy… Ick!* I mentally give myself a shake.

I shimmied down the tree and followed the trees surrounding the fields filled with the dead. When I get closer, I low crawled until I was under some bushes.

I could hear shouting from here but not close enough to hear what was being said, nor close enough to be seen by them. I could see a firetruck covered in filth. *They are obviously resourceful at least* I thought. There was a big guy with red hair and he was shouting and shoving some portly fellow with a mullet.

*Obviously not a “team”* I was about to turn around and go back and write them off but I heard the one with the crappy mullet say DC. But it wasn’t that, that caught my attention.

The man with the mullet shouted 3 words that caught my attention “I’m not a scientist!…”

*What the hell?!?* I think and turn my head back to listen in some more while creeping a little further towards them to hear better.

*I never thought having a Special Forces Sniper as a friend would come in handy when the world went to shit* I sarcastically think.

But what had really caught my attention was one name, a name not even Hell knew about.

Not even in those journals did that sick son of a bitch ever mentioned his name, he wanted all the credit for himself.

Only to me ever did he tell me who was responsible for the project that made a prisoner, The Human Genome Project. The director of it, T. Brooks Ellis.

Mullet man: “ I lied about T. Brooks Ellis liking my hair, as I never met him…”

My heart is pounding and my mind is going a thousand miles a minute.

*Flashback*

Dr. Harris: “You know you should be thankful 685436, you should be thankful Dr. T. Brooks Ellis was my mentor, I know everything about the Human Genome Project he does. Without him I couldn’t have made you the way you are…”

*End Flashback*

*If he has never met T. Brooks Ellis, how the fucking hell does he know the name?!? I have to find out more!*

Just then the ginger man clocked him.

*FUCK!*

To be continued….

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