#outpost II black sun
Text
Outpost: Black Sun (2012)
#outpost#black sun#outpost II#outpost II black sun#outpost: black sun#action#horror#scifi#actually watched in the month posted
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
So You Need Some GFFA Food In Your Life...
I love world-building, especially in the form of food. Food routinely crops up in my stories (and in stories gifted to me!), and recently I received a comment asking if I knew where to get SW food or if there were instructions on making any somewhere.
Friends, do I have good news for you.
People have been interested in Star Wars food almost since the debut of the Galaxy Far Far Away. As far as I am aware, the only place you can buy it pre-made is Galaxy’s Edge at Disney. But if you’re game to try making your own, there is no shortage of resources for you!
Wookie Cookies, published in 1998, is available free online. Most of these seem to be normal recipes with themed names (”Twin Suns Toast” and “Hoth Chocolate”) but it seems to be a pretty user-friendly place to start.
The Star Wars Cookbook II: Darth Malt and More Galactic Recipes, published in 2000, appears to be more of the same and is also available free online.
The Best Star Wars Recipes, published in 2016, honestly looks pretty cheap. Like someone’s “Star Wars Party” Pinterest board in printed form.
BB-Ate, published in 2018, appears to be entirely breakfast food and heavily The Force Awakens Themed.
The Star Wars Party Bite Cookbook, published in 2020, seems to have meh reviews but might be good to flip through if you’re specifically looking for party ideas and can find a copy second-hand or at your library.
Star Wars the Padawan Cookbook, published in 2016, and The Star Wars Life Day Cookbook, published in 2021, appear to be by the same person. The Padawan Cookbook is specifically for kids and has only 2 reviews on Amazon. The Life Day Cookbook is holiday themed, but has excellent reviews.
Star Wars Galactic Baking, published in 2021, appears to have made more of an effort to come up with in-universe/themed kinds of foods. I didn’t find this one readily free online but it’s $12 on Amazon and seems to have good reviews.
Finally, even though it’s a little out of chronological order, is this one:
Galaxy’s Edge: The Official Black Spire Outpost Cookbook, published in 2019, gets stellar reviews -- and I am not surprised. I have 2 other cookbooks by these same people/in this series (Firefly and Warcraft) and they are amazing, so if you’re going to pick up anything on this list, this would be my vote just because I think you’ll get the best results.
So there you go! Lots of options for making your own GFFA themed food!
There are, ofc, tons of fan-based resources not listed here that you can find via Google, Pinterest, and other general searches, as well, so Aplayteli!
(*Aplayteli is the GFFA version of cheers/bon appetit!)
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Manananggal Ko
Episode 8: Matinding Digmaan Part II (Gross War Part II)
Written By Joseph M.
A manananggal hovered over a tower in Bali, their eyes scanning the blazing horizon, watching the sun rise from afar. This manananggal was a member of the Fraksi Hantu clan, a clan with soldiers and combatants stationed in Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines and the Philippine Archipelago. This manananggal’s black scaly wings spread over the entire city of Singaraja, Indonesia.
This manananggal was in Bali to fight against a guerrilla invasion by a man named Diego Bayani–he was a tricycle driver, car mechanic, and a harbinger of accusations. This manananggal hosted a faction of the Fraksi Hantu including Imeldnananggal, Raja, Berani, and some lesser known members in an old military station on the edge of town.
This manananggal’s name was Pejuang, and he planned to lead his faction–The Tahan–into a final last-ditch skirmish against Diego at midnight. But in the morning, they were flying around the outpost, circling the towers and observing the brilliant sunrise. Within the outpost walls, Pejuang could see more of the manananggals–soldiers dressed in ragged camo scavenged from the corpses of soldiers, wearing the helmets and vests on themselves and ditching the rest–they had no use for shoes anyway.
A group of manananggal militants zipped across the courtyard, an area within the compound delineated with yellow lines and a sea of untrimmed grass; manananggals battled each other in practice fights, swiping at each other with their bony black claws. Manananggals poked their heads out of the compound–severed winged, disturbing and furry cupids poking their heads up and ducking back down.
Another group of manananggal fighters landed in the compound, a swarm of bat-like humanoids screaming a grueling war cry, a howling shriek into the night. Some manananggals perched on the treetops surrounding the compound–others landing on branches below and responding to the battlecry as night and thunder had befallen upon Bali.
Manong Diego and his farmers prowled through the forests below, small ants in the manananggals’ eyes. Pejuang swept down to the concrete pavement, lowering himself to see Raja’s eyes.
Raja commanded, “They are here. Prepare yourself.” He saluted Pejuang, who reciprocated the gesture. The manananggal soldiers had prepared themselves for this moment–the moment where they’d take Bali back from Diego and his regime.
A group of manananggal soldiers swept up into the skies, covering the shine of the moon with their sweeping wings. Bullets rang through the streets, a hoarde of men beating through the woods surrounding the compound with their guns–as ammo rained down on the compound, the disembodied manananggal rebels retaliated with thrilling shrieks and equally violent force.
Pejuang and the soldiers accompanying them–Tentara, Kuat and Marzekal–pounced through the forest. Pejuang ducked behind a tree–though his dried intestines flowing outward from his belly like a wedding dress still fluttered out with the wind–then leapt at one of the human fighters.
Tenatara, Kuat and Marzekal chased after Diego Bayani himself, three swirls of matter, wind and red eyes chasing the farmer down into the empty streets flanked by dimly lit building, down piers ghostly at that hour, and trapped him at the edge of a bridge, where the other side was a steep drop into the ocean.
Manong Diego Bayani whipped out a gun with two long barrels and fired at the manananggals, pairs of bullets flying past them. Their claws struck at him, a confusing flurry of blows harassing Diego into dropping his gun. Bullets, talons and Diego’s arms scraped against the pier, poking holes into the weaker timber beams.
Manong Diego finally let go of his shotgun, his hefty pinky weakly releasing the trigger and letting the gun drop into the foamy shores. Kuat raised their talon as the shotgun drifted into the ocean.
Tentara, meanwhile, dueled off the last of the farmers in Bali. This manananggal's movements were swift, their form like a spiral of wings and light leaving bamboo hats stuck in tree branches. One of the farmers approached with a rifle, but was quickly stunned by a ray of light that beamed down and bounced off Tentara’s wings, and fell.
Another farmer tried stabbing Tentara with a stake, but they simply plucked the stake from their wings and hurled it back. The corn farmer fled as Tentara bellowed victoriously. Tentara and their faction within the Fraksi Hantu–Militer Aswang–proudly served Singaraja and battled for Bali.
0 notes
Photo
Alone Against the Taliban: Mad Dog Platoon and the Battle of OP Nevada
Susan Katz Keating 2 weeks ago Badass, Best of SOF, War
by Susan Katz Keating
The Soviets called it Chernaya Gora: Black Mountain.
That is where a unit of elite Spetsnaz forces met their deaths in Afghanistan, atop a remote observation post overlooking Kunar.
I learned about the treacherous place in 2015, while researching an article for the Army National Guard.
The Guard’s GX Magazine had asked me to write about a soldier who’d been deployed many times, and had garnered a high number of medals.
I asked my subject, then-Sergeant First Class John Melson, to connect me with men he served with on deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan.
I randomly called a name on the list, a decorated soldier I’ll call Gaius, because he reminds me of an ancient warrior.
Gaius told me that in 2011 he’d served alongside Melson’s platoon in Kunar Province, the dangerous northeastern section of Afghanistan, that sits on the border with Pakistan.
Gaius and the platoon were assigned to Provincial Reconstruction Team Kunar, on Forward Operating Base Wright.
Gaius said he was present on FOB Wright when members of this platoon, who called themselves the Mad Dogs, engaged in a brutal firefight against the Taliban.
The fight took place atop an old Soviet overlook now known as Outpost Nevada. The Americans were surrounded there under heavy fire without backup. The fight raged for more than 18 hours.
“Those men were pure warriors,” Gaius told me.
A Story of Battle
For decades, I have written about warfare. I’ve delved into conflicts including the Spanish American War, World War I, World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Grenada, Iraq, and Afghanistan.
I’ve been on the ground amid urban fighting in Northern Ireland.
Against that framework, the 18-hour firefight caught my attention.
I asked Gaius to elaborate.
While he recounted the battle, I took six pages of notes.
Finally, as I turned to the seventh page, I set down my pen and simply listened.
I was captivated; not only by the tale Gaius told, but also by his tone and his insights. This warfighter had a catch to his voice.
He kept stopping to compose himself.
He clearly was moved by what the soldiers endured, and by how they conducted themselves.
The battle took place while the Americans found themselves on “Desperate Ground,” a phrase coined by the ancient Chinese tactician Sun Tzu, who applied the term to situations where soldiers have no option but to fight without delay. It is a fight to the death.
Eventually I would learn that the battle of OP Nevada played out on multiple fronts and in multiple forms that went beyond a single firefight.
The story involved a disparate group of soldiers.
Some were seasoned combat veterans.
Others were new to military service.
Overall, they included a former nightclub manager, a pizza delivery man, a competitive skateboarder, a used car salesman, a mysterious veteran rumored to have served in the French Foreign Legion, and a passel of self-described “broken toys.”
Their platoon sergeant, Melson, was a convicted felon who spent time in prison after being charged with kidnap and assault.
The men served in the Army National Guard, whose initials – NG – have sometimes been the butt of jokes that the letters stand for No Good.
As the daughter of a Guardsman who fought in Korea, though, and as the author of numerous articles about the Army National Guard in combat, I knew that the label was misplaced.
The Virginia Guard was part of the first frontal assault on Normandy, storming Omaha Beach.
The California Guard – my own father among them – relieved the beleaguered 24th Infantry Division in Korea.
Now, while writing for GX Magazine, I learned about a new group of “NG” warriors: the men from the mountaintop battle.
These were soldiers from the Massachusetts National Guard, whose predecessors fought the earliest engagements of the American Revolution, at Lexington and Concord.
These latter day fighters were soldiers from Second Company’s “Dog Platoon” of the 1-182 Infantry.
Their legacy in hand, the Mad Dogs in Afghanistan marched in the footpaths of warriors from years gone by: Macedonians under Alexander the Great; Mongols under Genghis Khan; and Soviets directed by Leonid Brezhnev.
Like Alexander before them, the Mad Dogs met a determined enemy in Kunar. Like the shock troops of Spetsnaz, the Mad Dogs endured hell while isolated. Atop the same remote outpost where Spetsnaz fell to their attackers, the Mad Dogs were surrounded and outnumbered.
They ran out of food, water, and ammo. And as with Spetsnaz, the Mad Dogs’ ordeal unfolded under the radar and slipped into obscurity, forgotten by all but the participants.
The men weren’t merely forgotten; they also were undocumented.
While researching the battle, I contacted the Army’s 25th Infantry Division, the element in charge of Kunar at the time.
The historian there told me the timeframe I asked about had been an extraordinarily busy period for the 25th.
The division then had been embroiled in Operation Hammer Down, aimed against Taliban operations in Kunar.
Most of the files from then pertained to that action.
The historian found no records even referencing the 18-hour firefight on OP Nevada.
The Massachusetts National Guard, for its part, similarly came up empty – and then some. I contacted the Military Division for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts to ask for copies of After Action Reports pertaining to OP Nevada. Leonid Kondratiuk, a retired colonel who is Director of Historical Services there, told me After Action Reports did not exist, period.
“The Mass Guard doesn’t write AAR’s,” Kondratiuk said. “No one in the Guard does. They just don’t write them.”
“That’s Not Combat”
Even the former Marine Corps four-star General and later Defense Secretary James Mattis, who oversaw military operations in Afghanistan at the time, drew a blank when I asked him about the event that occurred under his watch.
Mattis hadn’t heard of the Battle of OP Nevada.
Nor did he believe that it took place.
“How many Americans died?” Mattis asked me.
“None,” I said.
“That’s not combat,” Mattis said. “I know combat, and I can tell you, if no Americans died up there, that wasn’t combat.”
Make no mistake, though.
When these National Guardsmen found themselves on Desperate Ground, they fought. Isolated from support, abandoned to fate, surrounded by relics of Spetsnaz ghosts and attacked by a relentless enemy, they fought.
The extended slugfest was so brutal, so primal, so raw, that the Taliban afterwards refused to re-engage.
In the coming days, I will publish an account of what happened in those 18 hours atop OP Nevada.
As Gaius told me: “What those Americans did up there is pure heroism.
They were stunningly courageous. I will never forget them.”
Neither will I.
Susan Katz Keating is the publisher and editor-in-chief at Soldier of Fortune. Her book on the Mad Dogs in Kunar soon will be available for pre-order.
1 note
·
View note
Photo
CALIFICACIÓN PERSONAL: 6 / 10
Título Original: Outpost: Black Sun (Outpost II)
Año: 2012
Duración: 96 min
País: Reino Unido
Director: Steve Barker
Guion: Steve Barker, Rae Brunton
Música: Theo Green
Fotografía: Darran Tiernan
Reparto: Catherine Steadman, Richard Coyle, Ali Craig, Clive Russell, Michael Byrne, Nick Nevern, Alice da Cunha, Julian Wadham, Daniel Caltagirone, Gary McDonald, Johnny Meres, Domenic Pontone, Martin Bell, Philip Rosch, Carter Ferguson, Paul Birchard, John P. Arnold, Philip Barratt
Productora: Black Camel Pictures
Género: Action, Horror, Sci-Fi
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1418712/
TRAILER:
youtube
0 notes
Text
Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Targon)
Targon Part I
You awaken the next morning to find everyone in somewhat dour spirits. Olaf looks to be training alone, Shen is meditating, Riven is idly inspecting her blade, Gwen and Vayne seem to be watching the waves outside, and Lucian and Senna look to be in the middle of a rather heated argument.
Senna: “How many times do I need to say it, Lucian? I’m not staying behind!”
Lucian: “You’ve seen what he can do, Senna! We’re not in any position to take him on!”
Senna: “I know that, Lucian, but that’s all the more reason why we all need to be out there.”
Lucian: “Damn it, Senna, he’s targeting you! You’ve got one of those soul fragments in you too, which means we need to keep you out of harm’s way.”
Senna: “Oh? And what about Gwen? She’s a fetter too, and you don’t seem to want her to stay behind.”
Lucian: “Gwen’s got the Hallowed Mist protecting her!”
Senna: “And I’ve got you protecting me, or do you not have my back?”
Lucian: “That’s… You know that ain’t fair!”
Senna: “Oh really? So it’s fair that I get to stay behind and worry about my husband while you go hunting all over the world for fetters? Lucian, we swore we would always have each other’s backs. You have to stop letting what happened with Thresh hold you back!”
“Who’s Thresh?”
“Uh, is that a bad time?”
Lucian response 1: “…Someone you should pray you never meet, Rookie.”
Lucian response 2: “…No, I’d say your timin’ is perfect, Rookie.”
Senna: “We were just getting ready to set out on our next mission.”
Suddenly, Riven approaches to join the conversation.
Riven: “So… Where are we going next?”
Shen: “Mount Targon.”
Riven: “Ah! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Shen: “Mount Targon is the gateway between the earth and the heavens; a bridge into the Third Realm, that of the Celestials. Their power is often revered as godlike, so acquiring their favor may be the key to tipping the scales.”
“Wait, so we’re going to try and recruit the gods?”
“Isn’t Mount Targon like, really high though?”
Senna: “I know it’s a longshot, but either way, the Black Mist is gathering around Targon as we speak.”
Olaf: “Hmm! The gods you say? Perhaps there is a worthy foe among them!”
Senna: “Everyone, gather round! Rookie, fire up the Wayfinder!”
You wait as everyone gathers to the map table, then unleash the Wayfinder’s light to carry you to your destination. You emerge in what looks to be not a Sentinel outpost, but some manner of temple filled with carvings of Celestial bodies.
“Uh, I think something went wrong.”
“Please don’t tell me this thing is on the fritz.”
???: “Halt, trespassers!”
You turn around to see figures in peculiar armor emerging from the shadows, wielding brandishing peculiar silver weapons at you.
Lunari Soldier A: “Who are you? How did you find our sacred ground?”
Lunari Soldier B: “They must be with the Solari! Capture them!”
Gwen: “Um, pardon me, I think there’s been a misunderstanding! We’re not-”
Lunari Soldier A: “Silence! We won’t be deceived by your lies! Lunari, ready your weapons!”
Vayne: “A fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Rookie…”
Targon Part II
The Sentinels fend off their Lunari attackers, the light of their weapons clashing against the silver light of moonsteel.
Shen: “We are not your adversaries! Please, stand aside!”
Lucian: “Damn, they ain’t listening! Looks like we’re just gonna have to blast our way through!”
Lunari Soldier A: “What is this? I have never seen Solari weapons like this before!”
???: “They are not Solari! Everyone, stand down!”
Suddenly, every Lunari soldier halts, turning their attention to the entrance of the temple. A woman with long, pale hair strides into the room, clutching a large curved blade.
“Who are you?”
“Reinforcements?”
Diana: “Forgive them, travelers. My name is Diana, chosen Aspect of the Moon.”
Riven: “Aspect? You don’t mean…”
“You’re a god!?”
“You lead the Lunari?”
Diana response 1: “In a sense… Though I am only a vessel for Her power.”
Diana response 2: “A leader? No, not quite… I only speak the moon’s will to Her people.”
Olaf: “Ha! The gods of the Freljord are said to be titans! Are all of Targon’s god so tiny?”
Gwen: “Olaf, manners!”
Diana: “The moon towers above even your gods, Freljordian! Do not speak ill of her so readily.”
Lunari soldier B: “My lady, these Solari agents-”
Diana: “They are not Solari. These travelers have come far to aid us in our current plight, is that not so?”
Senna: “Actually… You could say that we’re the ones looking for help. There’s a world-wide Harrowing going on, so we hoped you Aspects could lend us a hand in dealing with it.”
Diana: “I see… In the past, Aspects would stand together to fend off the forces of darkness that threatened this world, but now we stand divided. The sun’s faithful, the Solari, persecute the Lunari as heretics! Their Aspect is…”
Diana hesitates. For a moment.
Diana: “She is difficult to speak with. As for the others: War has been killed, Justice is fragmented, and Twilight is nowhere to be found. Only the Protector remains to guard Targon’s peak from the encroaching darkness.”
“Guess we can’t expect any help from the gods…”
“So basically, you’re saying the Aspects can’t help.”
Diana: “…Not quite. It was by the Moon’s will that I came here to greet you. I know what it is you seek, travelers, and I can guide you to it.”
Vayne: “Oh, now this is a familiar set-up. Sorry, but we’ve already fallen for that trap once. It’s not happening again.”
Shen: “It is no trap. She speaks the truth.”
Lucian: “And how the hell do you know that?”
Shen: “The Eye of Twilight is not so easily deceived.”
Diana: “Time is short, travelers. Even as we speak, the Mist scours the mountain, searching for the Ruined King’s prize.”
Senna: “Damn it… I guess we don’t have a choice.”
Vayne: “…Fine, but the moment I even suspect Moonbeams here is going to turn on us, I’m putting a bolt through that glowing forehead.”
Diana: “You have nothing to fear. Now, come with me!”
Targon Part III
You follow Diana out onto the slops of Targon. The skies above you shine with the cosmos, but the land below you is obscured by a thick blanket of Black Mist.
“I can’t even see the bottom…”
“Just how high up are we?”
Diana: “Mount Targon soars into the heavens. Most would perish in an effort to make it this high, but you are fortunate to have had a means to bypass much of that climb.”
Lucian: “Come to think of it, why DID the Wayfinder bring us into your temple, anyway?”
Diana: “That temple did indeed once serve another purpose, but it has since become yet another hiding place for the Lunari to flee persecution. Those accursed Solari… They will forsake any light that isn’t the sun, forcing others to live in shadow.”
Diana descends further toward the Black Mist, leading you all closer to the howls of wraiths.
Vayne: “Seems like the shadows are where we’re headed.”
Gwen: “Um, are we quite sure about this?”
Before anyone can respond, several wraiths leap out of the Mist, ascending the mountain toward your party. You tense up, preparing for another fight, but Diana moves with inhuman speed to block their path. With a single swing of her blade, she lets loose an arcing bolt of moonlight that tears through the wraiths.
Diana: “The Moon’s silver light cuts through even the blackest darkness. You are under my protection now, so you have nothing to fear.”
“That was impressive!”
“Maybe I could get behind this whole moon-worship thing.”
Diana ignores your comments as she leads you further into the mist, wrapping herself in a silver barrier. More wraiths come your way, but Diana makes short work of those that would impede your path. The Sentinels fend of what few manage to sneak by her.
Lucian: “Hot damn, this moon lady ain’t half-bad!”
Senna: “Oh? Taken an interest in the goddess, have we, Lucian?”
Lucian: “Uh, I mean…”
Olaf: “Wait! Look there!”
You look past Diana to see a figure cutting through the Black Mist, striking down wraiths left and wright. His spear and shield glisten with the light of the cosmos and his helmet burns with pure starfire.
???: “Back, foul beasts! Your grotesque forms dishonor the fallen!”
“Who is that?”
“Another Aspect!?”
Diana response 1: “Atreus, formerly the Aspect of War. He fights with the remnants of Pantheon’s power that still linger inside him.”
Diana response 2: “Once, he was Pantheon, the Aspect of War. Now, however, he wields only a fragment of the fallen god’s might.”
Atreus: “Indeed, I am no more than a man! And no less! Whatever remnants of the god may linger, my strength is my own!”
Olaf: “Hmm! You seem like a worthy foe! Perhaps you will be the one to grant me a glorious end in battle!”
Atreus: “Glory comes not from how we die, berserker, but how we live. Now, enough talk! We share a common enemy this day, do we not, Diana?”
Diana: “Yes. We go to the dead god’s temple to find the artifact hidden within. We must keep it from the Ruined King’s grasp.”
Atreus: “So be it! Charge ahead, travelers! I will be the shield and spear at your backs!”
Without another word, Atreus rushes past you, slamming his shield into a wall of wraiths to scatter them.
Gwen: “Oh my, I hope he’ll be alright by himself!”
Vayne: “If I were you, I’d be more worried about the wraiths… Not that I’d ever spare any sympathy for these monsters.”
Diana: “What we seek lies just ahead. Come, Sentinels! We must hurry to the temple!”
Targon Part IV
After a long and arduous trek through the Black Mist, Diana finally brings you to the doors of an ancient, dilapidated temple.
“Phew… What a workout!”
“I need… A minute…”
Lucian: “Shake it off, Rookie! Our job’s not done yet.”
Riven: “So the fetter is in there?”
Diana: “Yes, that is what the Moon tells me.”
Vayne: “Let’s hope the Moon is a reliable informant.”
The Sentinels push the doors open to find the interior of the temple utterly abandoned. Tattered banners hang from nearby pillars and a heavy layer of dust lingers in the air. In the center stands a grand statue of a helmeted warrior clutching a familiar spear and shield.
“I don’t get it, why would a fetter be in a place like this?”
“Somehow, this place is even creepier than the Mist outside.”
Diana response 1: “For centuries, warriors from across Runeterra have come to make offerings here. It must be fate that one such offering would house the remnants of the Lost Queen.”
Diana response 2: “A god never truly dies. Their presence lingers in those whose lives they have touched, and where their memories are preserved.”
Shen: “I sense a growing imbalance. We should not dwell here for long.”
At Shen’s urging, fan out and scour the temple. You find many old offerings on display: trophies plucked from battlefields all over the world across the span of centuries. At first, none of them seem particularly noteworthy, but then your eyes fall upon an old, faded crest resting on a pedestal. You feel compelled to take hold of it and examine it more closely.
???: “I’ll be taking that.”
Suddenly, a shadowy hand snatches the crest from your grasp. You wheel around to see a familiar yordle standing by one of the pillars, her shadow clutching the crest behind her.
“It’s you! Um… What was your name again?”
“What the- How did you get here!?”
Vex response 1: “I never told you my name, but because I know you’re going to keep asking: it’s Vex, got it? Try to remember it.”
Vex response 2: “Ugh, more questions. Look, I’ve got ways of getting around, in case you’d forgotten.”
Hearing the commotion, the other Sentinels race to your aid. As Gwen and Senna draw near, the crest starts to emit a familiar glow.
Senna: “She’s got the fetter!”
Lucian: “Take her down, Sentinels!”
Vex: “Uh oh! Time to bale!”
Vex narrowly evades the bursts of Sentinel light that come for her, using her shadow to dart between the pillars of the temple for cover.
Riven: “She’s making a run for it!”
Senna: “Cut her off!”
Vex’s shadow carries her swiftly toward the exit, but Diana closes the distance in an instant. A massive circle of pale light surrounds her and draws Vex back into the temple.
Vex: “What the!? Hey, no fair!”
Diana slashes at Vex’s shadow, knocking the fetter from its grasp. The crest skids across the floor, landing by your feet.
Lucian: “Rookie, grab it!”
You bend over to do as Lucian says, only to be interrupted by a massive boom from outside. The whole temple trembles and knocks you off your feet.
“What was that!?”
“It wasn’t me, I swear!”
Vex: “Hey, if you guys are gonna bring a god, then so can I!”
Suddenly, the ominous presence you felt in the temple before grows heavier. A familiar figure strides into the temple, his flesh and weapons warped by the Black Mist. A look of genuine fear washes over Diana’s face.
Diana: “It can’t be…”
“Atreus!?”
“Pantheon!?”
Pantheon response 1: “No. I have reclaimed what is rightfully mine! I am Pantheon, and you are intruders upon my temple.”
Pantheon response 2: “Indeed. I am war, I am change, and I am reborn!”
Vayne: “So the Black Mist can even turn a dead god undead…”
Shen: “The scales of tipped even further!”
Pantheon: “Come then, mortals! You will be the first to receive my judgement!”
Targon Part V
Pantheon rushes into the temple, engaging the Sentinels head-on. Diana moves to intercept him, but she is quickly thrown back by the force of his spear into the base of his statue. The entire monument shakes and crumbles, burying Diana under a pile of rubble.
Lucian: “Stand strong, Sentinels! We’ve got him outnumbered!”
Pantheon: “Fool! I am an army unto myself!”
You watch as Pantheon engages your allies, effortlessly deflecting their attacks with his weapons. Shen, Riven and Olaf engage him at close-range, while Senna, Lucian and Vayne support them from a distance. Gwen does her best to support the party with Hallowed Mist, though this proves little more than an annoyance to the war god.
Senna: “Rookie! Grab that fetter and fire up the Wayfinder! We need to get out of here!”
You look to the ground to see that the crest is long-gone, along with Vex and her shadow.
“Damn! She got away with the fetter, again!”
“So, uh, I can follow exactly half of that order!”
Pantheon: “Your fight ended long before it even began, Sentinels!”
With a single swing of his spear, Pantheon knocks all of your comrades to the ground, lashing out with an unholy mix of Ruined and Celestial power. Just as the situation beings to seem dire, however, the statue behind Pantheon explodes into a burst of pale light.
Diana bursts from the rubble, swinging her moonlight-empowered blade at the war god. He turns just in time to block her strike with his shield, though the impact still causes him to stumble a little.
Diana: “Your time has passed, Warrior! Return to your slumber!”
Pantheon: “War is eternal, as am I!”
The two Aspects clash in an inhuman Celestial might, their battle causing the very temple around to you tremble. You and your allies watch, transfixed, at this deadly dance between gods in human form. A silent understanding arrives that any attempt at intervention would only result in a swift and inglorious death caught in the crossfire.
Diana dashes around with inhuman speed while Pantheon pushes with back with titanic strength, though you can’t help that something seems off about the war god’s movements. It looks to you almost as though he’s struggling to raise his spear…
Senna: “Rookie! We gotta go! This isn’t a fight mortals can play any part in!”
You snap back to reality and rush to your allies, Wayfinder in hand. Everyone musters the strength to join you, though just before you can teleport back to headquarters, a scream cuts through the temple. You look back to the battle, horrified to see Pantheon’s spear impaled through Diana’s torso.
Pantheon: “Now, you too will know what I felt at the Darkin’s blade…”
Lucian: “Rookie, do it now!”
In spite of Lucian’s orders, though, you find yourself unable to summon the light of the Wayfinder. Pantheon pulls his spear from Diana and shoves her toward you before approaching.
Pantheon: “It does not matter where you flee to, Sentinels. There is nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide, from war. I shall storm your fortress and lay waste to your bastion, bringing a new era of war!”
“Atreus, wake up!”
“Is that really what you want, Atreus?”
Pantheon: “You speak again of my vessel, but he is back where he belongs: under my control.”
“You said that it doesn’t matter how we die, but how we live! Do you want to live as a slave in your own body, Atreus?”
“You’re wrong, Pantheon! You’re the one under Viego’s control, but Atreus wouldn’t submit so easily!”
Vayne: “Rookie, what are you-”
Pantheon: “Enough of this! I… I… Ugh!”
Suddenly, Pantheon’s form begins to flicker, the Black Mist ebbing flowing from his body to show the man underneath.
Atreus: “I am no slave, Pantheon! Not to you OR the Ruined King!”
Pantheon: “What!? You dare defy me, mortal!?”
You watch as Atreus and Pantheon wrestle for control as Black Mist floods into the temple behind you, carrying with it a swarm of wraiths. Suddenly, the Ruination gives way to Celestial light once more, but the Black Mist still clings stubbornly to Atreus’s body.
Atreus: “Go! I shall hold these abominations back, including the one within me!”
Senna: “You heard him, Rookie! Use that damn Wayfinder!”
This time, you do as you are told, calling forth the power of your Relic to carry you and your comrades back to safety. You reappear in Sentinel headquarters, far away from Mount Targon.
Lucian: “Rookie, I don’t know whether to be furious or impressed right now.”
“I know, I lost the fetter.”
“I know, I can’t believe I actually got through to him!”
Riven response 1: “Hey, it’s not your fault. We all know how slippery that yordle and her shadow can be.”
Riven response 2: “I just hope Pantheon doesn’t take control again. I really don’t want a rematch with a god.”
Gwen: “Um, speaking of whom…”
You all turn to see Diana struggling to her feet, clutching her side.
Diana: “Ngh…”
“Are you alright?”
“Hey, take it easy!”
Diana: “It was not I who suffered Pantheon’s spear, young one, but the Aspect of the Moon herself. I… Can scarcely feel Her now.”
Vayne: “So what, you’re telling us that undead god killed the moon?”
Diana: “No… She still lives, but her power is weakened. It will take many nights for her to recover.”
Lucian: “If things keep up like this, I don’t know how many more nights we have.”
Shen: “The balance grows more precarious still.”
Senna: “So much for divine intervention…”
Diana: “Ngh… Though my connection to the heavens is diminished, I can still feel Her will, however faintly. She… Wishes for me to accompany you, if you’ll have me.”
Riven: “You’re saying you want to join us?”
Diana: “I am saying that... I have little choice. I cannot return to the Lunari as I am now. I am the Moon’s voice, her vessel. Without her, I can do little for my people. All I can do is take up arms and aid you in your fight, in the hopes that doing so will drive the Black Mist from the slopes of Targon.”
Gwen: “Ooh, how marvelous! The moon lady is going to join us! Oh, follow me, and we’ll tend to your wounds as well as your wardrobe.”
Gwen leads Diana back into the Sentinel base. Though it takes slightly longer than normal thanks to Diana’s injuries, she soon emerges with the Lunari leader in tow.
Gwen: “Apologies for the wait, everyone! I now present to you all: Sentinel Diana!”
Diana: “May Mother Moon watch over us, and may we all fight our own path through the darkness.”
Lucian: “That’s… Not exactly the standard oath, but good enough, I guess.”
Senna: (Another new Sentinel, but we’re still no closer to turning things around…)
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
“ damn, it’s cold.”
Red Dead Redemption II:
Looking up as Kaleb rubbed his hands together over the fire and Sarah nodded. So she wasn't the only one to notice it. Yes they had electricity in the outposts, but it was getting harder and harder to keep the power flowing to the furthest-out settlements.
So Meldacio had a number of barrel-fires dotted around the outpost to help heat the place. "The sun's been gone for months now, we don't even get the cloudy light like before."
Looking up at the rock roof of the tunnel and Sarah felt sad. Where the sun had once been masked by a thinner layer of the miasma, now the sky was black the entire time. She pulled closer to the fire and spoke in a whisper.
"- what if it never comes back, Kaleb?" Meldacio only had access to so much wood before they had to search in the vesperpool for timber, and the dangers outweighed the pros. But the vegetation would die with no sunlight. Perhaps it was better to retreat to Lestallum after all?
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Of Truth and Justice - Part III
Summary: Calea learns what she can from the Para-Demon’s blood and wakes where Clark has taken her.
Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x OFC
Word Count: 8,787
Parts: I II
Rating: PG-13 - Justice League!AU, Language, Fluff, Angst, Flashbacks, Minor Character Death
Inspiration: Something that’s been on my Muse’s brain after watching Justice League a couple of times.
Author’s Note: TY to the amazing @wondersofdreaming for being a stellar Beta! Tell me what you think!
Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @agniavateira, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy, @the-soot-sprite, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996, @dont8mind8me8eue, @peaky-marvel, @desperate-and-broken21, @monstersnmoney, @dancingwendigo, @redhot-mystacism, @thereisa8ella, @black-ninja-blade, @oddduckthatgirl, @rosewinx, @henrythickcavill, @tinabean37, @hnryycvll, @msblkfire84, @romangenesius, @emelinelovesjc, @strangerliaa, @lovieebby, @pinksdaydream, @fanfictionaddiction99, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @oh-for-fic-sake, @sauvage-et-libre, @mis-lil-red, @angreav, @crazyandanonymous4u, @the-mighty-jellybean @henrycavell, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, @iam-laiya, @worshipping-skarsgard, @thetruthandotherstories, @ruthoakenshield, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @theonetheycallhannah, @nina-skyee, @thatgirly81, @inanna999, @suueeeeeee, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @beckster07890, @daddys-littlewhitegirl, @magic-and-the-macabre, @stxphmxlls, @radaofrivia, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @starstruckkittyangel, @heartfelt-pen
Clark carefully set up the Sol-Gel Chamber inside the Fortress of Solitude.
He stood over Calea in the Gel, the beat of her heart had grown stronger as time progressed, giving him hope that she was going to recover. Running his hands through his hair, Clark had one of the Kryptonian Bots watch over her, while he went to secure the rest of the Fortress.
He wasn't gone long, when Calea thrashed in the Gel and sat up, ripping the mask off her face and looking at the bot, startled. Climbing out of the Chamber, Calea pressed her back against the wall and glanced around her foreign surroundings. The Bot made a beeping whirl sound and the door of the room opened, revealing a startled and excited Clark.
“Calea!”
“Clark!” She relaxed seeing him. “Where the hell am I?” She asked, eyeing the Bot.
“The Fortress of Solitude.” He replied, dismissing the Bot out of the room.
“Why?” Calea asked, eyes panning around.
“Well, I just felt it would be safer for you.” He admitted, his face slightly warm. “So, I brought you and the Sol-Gel Chamber here.”
“Where's Ryder?”
“I don't know.” He frowned, then rushed forward, grabbing her as her knees gave out. “You're still weak.” He whispered, picking her up in his arms. “What were you thinking, drinking that Para-Demon's blood, Calea?” He asked, carrying her out of the Chamber he set the Sol-Gel up in.
“I was thinking, I wanted to find out what he was looking for.” Calea replied, resting her cheek against his shoulder, exhausted. “Ryder's going to kill you, when he finds us.”
Clark chuckled. “I doubt that.” He smiled, carrying her down a long hallway. “Unless he has Kryptonite, which I highly doubt, since there isn't any more, and I'm the only one that knows where we are.” He explained to her, stepping in front of another door before it opened. “This is the only bedroom I have, but I don't have to sleep, unless I want to or my brain is exhausted, so you can have it.” He told her, setting her down on his bed.
“There's a bathroom right there.” He motioned to a secondary door. “I'm sure you'll want to wash the Gel off. Um..” Clark frowned, seeing her soiled clothing and stepped into the space he used as a closet and pulled a shirt and pair of pajama bottoms off the hangers. “You can wear these, until we can get your clothes clean.” He offered, setting the shirt and bottoms on the bed beside her.
“Thank you.” Calea replied, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.
Nodding, Clark stepped out to give her privacy to fix herself up. Calea stood up and glanced around his room, before going into the bathroom. The water was cold as she stepped under the spray of the shower head, shivering. But, she didn't mind, she just wanted to wash up and get her mind straight. The Para-Demon, Kulas's blood had shown her what had happened to her people, the death of her father, the apparent fact that Steppenwolf was looking for more than just the Mother Boxes; the League was correct in that assumption. Calea knew what it was Steppenwolf was looking for, but had no clue where they were hidden. She leaned her forehead against the shower wall, water cascading down her shivering back as tears mixed with the water droplets dripping from her hair, turning cold as they fell from her cheeks and down the spiraling drain.
Sniffling and turning off the tap, Calea pulled a towel off a rack built into the wall and dried off. Slipping on the clothing Clark so generously provided for her and stepped up to the door, glancing around it for a moment before it opened. Peeking down both sides of the hallway, Calea picked a direction and followed it around a bend and down a corridor with three displays on either side that held an outfit, Superman's outfits. One looked like a set of armor, another was the normal Superman outfit Clark wore and the other was black and silver.
“It's my regeneration suit.” Clark's voice echoed to her. “It helps me recover, when I've been injured.”
“Or come back from the dead.” She smiled at him.
“That too.” He smiled back, then held up a bag that was in his hand. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
Smiling more, Clark took Calea down to the foyer area of the Fortress, the windows there open and looking out over the frozen tundra of the Antarctic. There was a modest table there, as well as the statues of Clark's birth parents, Jor-El and Lara. Calea studied them, while Clark pulled the take-away boxes out of the bag, she could see Clark in both of them, his father's nose and jawline, his mother's eyes and cheekbones, both of them looked beautiful, even carved out of stone, she could sense they had been good people.
“So, there's Chinese take-out in the Antarctic, I'll have to give them one hell of a Yelp review.” She giggled, sitting down at the table with him.
“Ah, well.” Clark chuckled, grinning like mad. “I don't have a kitchen here. So, I just popped over to New Zealand to get something.” He explained to her, picking up his chopsticks. “Do you need to eat?” He asked, popping a snow pea in his mouth.
“What do you mean?” Calea replied, helping herself to the chicken dumplings.
“Well, I don't technically need to eat, or sleep.” He explained, after swallowing. “I get my energy from the Sun. Though, I do sometimes get mentally tired and a good nap does the trick.”
Calea rested back against her chair, pondering his question as she chewed her dumpling. “I don't, can't, eat, while in the Sol-Gel, but it still gives me the type of nourishment I need to survive. I've never tried not eating, while I was out of it. We can go without sleep, if we want too. But, I rather enjoy sleeping, the days don't seem so long, when you sleep.”
“That's true.” he agreed, nodding. “I like doing both, food tastes a lot better than the Sun.” He joked, making Calea roar with laughter. “I haven't been sleeping much though, I don't even know why I keep doing it, knowing I don't have to and I'll just end up having nightmares.”
“When you make a habit of something, they tend to be hard to break.” She sighed, glancing out the windows. “What is this place?” She asked.
“My Fortress of Solitude.” He replied, looking out at the snow and ice swept landscape. “It was a Kryptonian Scouting Ship my father, Jor-El, sent a long time ago to find out if they could use it as an outpost and a place of refuge.” He explained to her. “The Humans found it in the Arctic a few years ago. When I heard about it, I found a way into the group that was studying it and checked it out.”
“That's when I learned who I really was, where I came from and how I got here. So, I took it and brought it here to the Antarctic, away from everyone and everything.”
“Well, even Superman needs a vacation from the world every once in a while.” She assured him with a sweet smile. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I don't know.” He answered. “I was just going to let you be back at your place, but I-” He shook his head, he'd been trying to rationalize his choice in taking Calea to the Fortress since the compulsive idea came over him. “I just didn't feel like you were safe there, even with my being with you.”
“That place has been a safe haven for me for a very long time. No one has ever found it, without being told here it is.”
“I know.” He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “It just felt safer with you here.”
“With you.” She teased him, nudging her knee against his.
“Maybe.” Clark rubbed at his neck and didn't meet her eye.
“Where in Romania was that swarm of Para-Demons?” She asked, after a short silence.
“North of a mine called Rosia Poieni.” He replied, finishing off his egg rolls.
“Would you show me?” She asked, lifting a brow at him.
“Um..” Clark frowned, wiping his mouth and getting up. “Follow me.”
Clark led the way to a study-like room and up to a console whose monitor was made of Liquid Geo. Typing on the console, the Geo changed and solidified into an Earth shaped orb. The Geo trembled for a moment, then changed shape again, this time showing the country of Romania.
“The Mine is here.” Clark said, pointing to the west of Romania. “And the sight of Steppenwolf's Para-Demons was here.”
“Seems terribly random.” Calea frowned, shaking her head. “What is it?” She frowned, seeing the change in Clark's expression.
“There's trouble.” He said, striding out of the room. “Stay here, I'll be back as quickly as I can.”
“Well, being Superman, that should be faster than I can blink.” Calea deadpanned, smirking at him.
Calea made sure Clark was well and gone, before taking one final look at the map, going back to his room and changing into her now dry clothing. With a deep breath, picturing the place in her mind, and with a crackle of energy, Calea was gone.
It was dark, when Calea suddenly appeared in the forest to the north of the Rosia Poieni mine. There were still rotting Para-Demon bodies littering the ground, the smell, even in the chilly night air, was like an overripe garbage dump in hundred degree heat, it made Calea's nose wrinkle and her face twist. She picked her way through their bodies, pushing some aside, looking for any clues to their reason for being here, but had no more luck than the others. Sighing, she moved through the treeline, towards the edge of the mining pit. The old copper mine was almost a mile wide and half a mile deep, before it started branching out into mine shafts.
“What are you doing, Steppenwolf.” She muttered to herself, scanning the deep crater and leaned forward as she saw a twinkle of light for a moment, in the deepest part of the pit.
“Hm.”
Narrowing her eyes, Calea hopped down several of the rows leading down into the pit, jumping down two and three at time, before skirting around until she was closer to the source. Her ears picked up the sound of movement further below, and knew it couldn't be Humans, it was too dark for them to be mining this late at night. Tipping her head back and sniffing at the air, Calea still smelled the stench of dead Para-Demons, but also caught the scent of living Para-Demons. Growling, she descended the rest of the way, making sure to be quiet and keep down wind so they didn't scent her out.
Coming around and crouching down, Calea saw three Para-Demons standing around the opening to one of the mine shafts, guarding it and whatever was inside of it. Glancing upward, Calea noticed that the shaft lined up with where the League battled the swarm of Para-Demons earlier.
“They were standing on it.” She whispered, shocked.
Biting her lip, Calea slowly eased into the direction of the Para-Demons, wanting to get as close to them as possible before attacking, so any other Para-Demons in the area wouldn't be fully alerted to her presence until it was too late. She was only a few yards from them, when the wind shifted directions, blowing against her back and towards the Para-Demons, warning them instantly to Calea's vicinity. Making the most of it, Calea zoomed forward, her powers already reaching their peak, as she grabbed the closest Para-Demon to her.
Electricity crackled down Calea's arms and flowed into the Para-Demon's body as she gripped it by the arm and throat. It trembled and twitched as the high voltage electricity coursed through it, before she tossed it aside and took on the remaining two. She hissed as one of them swiped at her, claws catching her cheek as she tried to duck out of the way. Dropping to a squat and twisting, Calea kicked the Para-Demon's legs out from under it and smashed her fist through its skull.
“Killing your own kind, youngling?” A raspy voice asked as Calea killed the last Para-Demon.
“Steppenwolf.”
She hissed, dripping the creature's body and turning around to face him. “They're not my kind, not any longer. You and Darkseid saw to that.” She growled at him, shaking, as all her pent up power reached a fevered pitch.
“They should have given me what I wanted, I would have let them live.” Steppenwolf replied, smirking.
“That's a damned lie and you know it.”
Steppenwolf shrugged, the smug smile on his lips never faltering. “Perhaps you'll be more intelligent than the rest of your Race and tell me where what I seek has been hidden.”
“How am I supposed to know where they've been hidden? I was a baby, when my People took them from you and Darkseid.” Calea spat venomously. “Even if I did know where they were, I sure as hell wouldn't tell the likes of you.”
“Stubborn, just like your father.” He laughed at her. “But, no matter. Soon, I will find where you Selians have hidden them on this pitiful rock and with Mother's help, it will be glorious.” He smirked as a beam of light came down over him and teleported him away.
The bright light left spots in Calea's eyes as the dark night filled the mining pit again, but she didn't let it deter her. Turning on her heels, she stepped over the dead Para-Demons and into the mine they were guarding, doubting there were anymore inside, knowing they would have come out already if there were.
Eyes glowing that electric blue and aiding Calea to see in the pitch black shaft, she glanced around and saw nothing out of the ordinary for a mine; scraped and rough walls and ceiling, the dirt floor strewn with bits of rock, metal rails to carry out loads of rock and cooper, and bits of scrap from blasting deeper into the Earth. It smelled of damp gravel and Earth, musty, with the metallic ting of copper, the lingering scent of sweaty bodies and petrol, from the generators powering the string of lights along the hewn walls and sump-pumps, to clear out the patches of stagnant water. There was also the lingering, but noticeable scent of Para-Demons, they had been down here at some point recently, telling Calea that she was heading in the right direction.
She stopped, coming to a Y-shaped fork in the shaft and sighed, one of the shafts was blocked off with a barricade. So, taking a couple steps into the shaft to the left and taking a couple of whiffs, she turned around and went back to the blocked off shaft. Leaning over the barricade and picking up the Para-Demon scent again, she pushed the barricade aside and started in, she could feel the shaft start to angle more sharply downward, the air around her growing chilly and thick. Something about this shaft felt drastically different from the others, and not just in temperature and atmosphere, it made Calea's skin ripple with goosebumps and a shiver raced down her spine, it felt foreboding and somehow older than the surrounding area.
The deeper Calea went the rougher the shaft became, like they started to mine it, but gave up for some reason, blocking it off to prevent anyone from going down it again. The walls and ceiling looked safe and stable enough, there were clear lines of copper in the walls, so it wasn't lacking valuable resources that would prevent them from wanting to continue on with it, confusing Calea to why they would stop and hole it up.
It wasn't until she hit the dead end of the shaft that she saw what it was that possibly stopped their continued excavation.
Where the rough shaft ended, a small chamber opened up. It was wide enough for her fingertips to touch the walls with her outstretched arms and tall enough for her to fully stand up. The walls and ceiling were perfectly squared and smooth, or at first glance, they looked smooth. A closer look revealed there were markings on the walls, nothing Human either.
“Holy fuck.” She gasped, recognizing them.
“Calea, I'm back.”
Clark called, entering the Fortress after saving a large group of people from an apartment fire in London. “Calea?” He called out again, when he didn't get an answer. “Shit.” He snapped, seeing the Liquid Geo still up in the shape of Romania.
Keeping his black and silver suit on, in case there was a need to get in a fight, Clark made his way over to the mine. Searching around, he spotted the dead Para-Demons at the entrance of a shaft and took the clue. Clark caught the scent of his body wash Calea used to get clean and her own unique smell, and picked his way through the mine until he came to the fork and the shoved aside barricade. He heard the quick pounding of her heart and breathing at the end of the shaft and wasted no time getting to the end of it.
“Calea?” He called out to her, his voice echoing back.
“Clark?” Her voice echoed in reply.
“What are you doing down here?” He asked, looking around the strange room.
“Looking for answers.” She replied, fingers tracing the symbols on the wall in front of her.
Clark frowned and stepped up behind her. “What are these?” He asked, looking at the symbols over her head.
“Original Solean.” She replied and leaned closer to one of the symbols, so worn, it was almost unrecognizable.
“What?” He snapped, looking down at her.
“You heard me.” She snorted, sliding over to the next column of symbols. “Steppenwolf is looking for two things that go with the Mother Boxes. Well, one thing that goes with the Mother Boxes and another that can destroy the Mother Boxes.” She explained to him.
“My People took the two objects not long after Darkseid had them made, hoping they would weaken him, then hid them somewhere here on Earth. But, obviously, that didn't work because he had the Mother Boxes made.”
“What are the two objects?” Clark asked, a crease between his brows.
“One is a Key that's supposed to unlock the full power of the Unity and the second is another Box, of some sort.” She answered, then growled. “I can hear my mother yelling at me for not paying closer attention to my tutor, on early Selian history.” She huffed, arms dropping to her sides in defeat.
“That Para-Demon's blood told you this?”
“Not exactly.” She told him, rubbing her face. “It showed me the day Steppenwolf invaded Selion and killed everyone, my parents included. He killed my father, who killed someone else about to tell Steppenwolf where these objects were. In full retaliation of what my Father did, Steppenwolf had the entirety of Selion turned into Para-Demons, and after he left, my mother told one of her Servants what it was he was looking for, but not where to find them.”
“But, you're sure they're here on Earth?”
“If Steppenwolf is searching Earth for them, they have to be here and this room is proof of that much.” She replied, motioning around the room.
“What is it?” Clark frowned, watching a light bulb turn on in her eyes.
“Lore.” She said softly, eyes panning around the room. “That's what this room is telling. The Lore of Selians colonizing Earth, seven thousand years ago.” Her head and eyes snapped up to Clark. “The Key and Box aren't in this room, but it tells the Lore of how Selians started living on Earth. That's what he's doing, why it's taking him so long to start the Unity.”
“He's scouring the Lore of the Selian-Humans, hoping to find a mention of the Key and Box in one of the stories.”
“Then, we have to beat him to it.” Clark said, sharing her frenzy.
“I have to get to the Heart.” She said, antsy.
“The what?”
“I'll explain it, when we get there.” Calea replied, holding out her hand. “Take my hand.”
Without hesitation, Clark took Calea's hand and felt the pop of electricity at their touch, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and in a flash, they blinked out of the mine and appeared inside a rather large space ship.
“The Heart.” Calea smiled, motioning to the space around them. “This is the ship Ryder and I arrived on Earth in.” She explained and let out a low whistle, making lights around the craft slowly turn on, showing off the hanger they were standing in.
“Where is this hidden?” Clark asked, looking around.
“Somewhere under Manhattan, I think.” She replied, frowning. “It's been a very long time since I've visited here without teleporting, and so much has changed since we hid it. It was the Heart of the Selian Eternal Fleet.” She elaborated. “I.E the name for it.”
Pressing her hand to a panel beside a door and opening it, Calea quickly walked down a corridor, the sole of her boots clinking as she went. Clark followed after her, still checking the ship out as they went and entered a second room.
“Your bedroom?” He smirked, it still smelled like her, even after all the time being left dormant.
“Yep.” She smiled back at him, fingertips lighting on the spines of books on a shelf by her bed. “There you are.” She chimed, pulling a thick book off the shelf and walking backwards until she could sit down on her bed.
“The Lore of Selians and Earth.”
Clark sat down beside her, tilting his head at the book as she flipped it open. “Do you have any idea where to look?”
“Not even the slightest.” She laughed, scanning the index. “Hm.” She frowned and got up again, pulling another book off the shelf.
“The battle of Apokolips.” Clark read out loud. “The third war?” He frowned at Calea.
“Selians and Apokoliptians have been battling each other ever since they believed we were abandoning our birthright as Rulers of the Universe, being the first Race. It was the third war, the War of Power, that my Grandfather died and my Father became King. Then, a few years later, the War for Earth took place.” She told him, opening the book.
“Ah, here we go.” She said, finding the chapter she was looking for and started reading it to Clark. “It was the third war that the Apokoliptians created a Key and Box, in an attempt to defeat the Selians once and for all. But, King Gretan—my Grandfather—sent his best men to Apokolips to stop them before they could prevail, and hoped to use it against the Apokoliptians themselves.”
“Mikel and Tristan,” Gretan said as the two men approached his throne. “Thank you for coming, on such short notice.”
“Of course, my liege.” Mikel replied as they both bowed to him. “How can we be of service?”
“It has been brought to the attention of our spies and scouts, that the Apokoliptians have created two objects that could bring about our destruction. We must get our hands on these objects, so we can prevent them from being used.” Gretan explained to them.
“I'm sending you both to Apokolips, to steal these devices and bring them back here for safe-keeping.”
“We will get ready right away, my liege.” Tristan assured him.
“Excellent.” Gretan replied and nodding his head, dismissed them.
Tristan and Mikel left as soon as they were able, not wishing to lose any time, knowing that the Apokoliptians weren't wasting time either. Arriving at a safe zone in Apokolips and meeting up with a spy and scout, Mikel and Tristan learned where to find the objects they were tasked with obtaining.
“I must warn you.” The scout said, being frank with them. “One of our scouts has already tried infiltrating the lab they are located in. He was captured, interrogated and killed.” He told them, bluntly.
Mikel and Tristan exchanged expressions, but steeled themselves. They couldn't, and wouldn't, let their King and People down. Getting the rest of the report, a layout of the lab, surrounding areas and whatever else the scout and spy had to tell them, Tristan and Mikel made their way towards their destination. They stayed low and skirted around buildings, narrowly escaping notice a few times as they made it inside the perimeter of the city outside the safe zone. Finding an empty building to hide in, Mikel pulled out the map provided for them and found where they were in relation to it and where the laboratory was in relation to them.
“We're two klicks away from the lab.” Mikel said, pointing to the red dot that marked the lab they were making their way towards. “There's two security checks between us and it, not to count the tight security they have around the lab, especially after the first attempt to steal what's inside said lab.”
“Do we know what we're looking for, exactly?” Tristan asked, studying the map.
“According to our intelligence, they're the only things in the lab.” Mikel answered, rubbing at his tired face. “So, they shouldn't be that hard to spot.”
“Or carry, all we need is something to slow us down.”
The knob to the room they were crouched in started to rattle. Quickly hiding the map and melding into the dark shadows of the room as the door opened, Mikel and Tristan watched the Apokoliptian enter the room, the door swinging shut behind him. Holding their breaths and waiting for the opportune moment, Tristan took a silent step out of the shadows and up behind him, swiftly wrapping his arm around the Apokoliptian's neck and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle any sounds he might make, and snapped his neck. Gently easing him to the floor, Mikel searched his pockets and found a passkey, smiling at Tristan as he held it up.
“That solves some of our access problems.” Tristan chuckled, making sure the Apokoliptian didn't have anything else of interest on his body.
“Come on.” He whispered, moving to the door.
Listening through the door for a few moments, then slowly opening it, Tristan and Mikel carefully sneaked down along the wall of the building, checking the walkway around the corner and continued on. They made their way to a wall between them and the middle area of the city. While Tristan worked on getting them through the wall, Mikel kept watch for any Apokoliptians that might catch them. Tristan removed a black kit from his pocket and pulled out a pen-like object, pressing the tip of it to the wall and turned it on. He moved the pen in an arch, just wide and tall enough for them both to squeeze through, the tip of the pen cutting through the thick wall like butter. Putting the pen and kit back in his pocket and kicking the cut out free, Tristan motioned for Mikel to go first, watching his back as he did, then followed after him.
Mikel motioned to the left of them and led the way to their next checkpoint, narrowly getting caught in the process. Tristan gave him a frustrated look and Mikel rolled his eyes, then continued on their way. Taking back ways, deserted streets and hiding in hidden nooks and deep doorways as their enemies passed by. Making it to the last wall in their way to the direct center of the city, that contained all the important and top secret dealings of Apokolips, they pulled out of their map for one more check of the lab's location and readied themselves for whatever they might encountered in the extraction of their mission.
“May Primian protect us.” Mikel whispered, touching the pad of his first two fingers to the space between his eyebrows.
“Who's Primian?” Clark asked, interrupting her reading.
“Primian was the first Selian to become a Prime.” Calea replied, looking up from the page. “That's why we're called Primes; it's a play on his name. He became a bit of a God to us.”
“Ah.” He nodded, understanding.
Prepared, Mikel and Tristan breached the last wall and felt the air around them change, thickening with the very real danger they were now in, that they were in the last and most critical stage of their mission. Picking their way through the buildings and walkways towards the laboratory, they used the passkey and found it gave them access to the lab.
The lab was like any lab, bright and clean smelling, but the instruments in it weren't anything you would find in an ordinary lab. Mikel and Tristan split up, looking for what they had come for, checking everything in the room, before Tristan found a door to a side room and went inside.
“Mik.” He called over his shoulder, his eyes glued to what was in the room with him.
“What?” Mikel answered, popping up behind him and looking over his shoulder. “That has to be them.” He said, eye catching what Tristan had found.
“A Box and what the hell is that with it?” Tristan echoed, stepping closer.
It was a circular three inch long by an inch thick, solid bar of silver-like metal with a strange symbol at the top of it. Tristan reached out and picked it up off the stand it was resting on, inspecting it closer, while Mikel looked over the box that sat beside it. He turned it around, checking all of the side and noticed a hole at the top of the box that was the exact size and shape of the bar Tristan was holding in his hand.
“It's a Key of some sort.” Mikel said, showing Tristan the hole in the Box.
“Does it open the Box?” Tristan asked, frowning.
“Don't.” Mikel hissed as Tristan tried inserting the Key. “We don't know what this thing does, and I'd rather not find out in a confined space.”
Tristan nodded and opened a satchel he had been carrying and slipped the key into the inside pocket. “Quickly, let's get going before anyone comes.”
Holding the satchel open, Mikel slipped the Box in and fastened the flap closed. Making a sweep of the room to ensure they didn't miss anything important, Mikel and Tristan left the lab and started retracing their steps back out of the city and to their ship off the planet. They weren't halfway to the wall, when a series of alarms went off.
“Well, that's our cue!” Mikel snapped and started running.
Running with him, Tristan caught the glimpse of Apokoliptians running back and forth in a frenzy, trying to figure out what the alerts were for. They were mere feet from the opening in the wall they made, when one Apokoliptian guard noticed them and shouted to his fellows. Pulling off the satchel, Tristan tossed it to Mikel, who sent it sliding through the hole in the wall and dove after it, sliding through the hole like a player to home base. Turning on his hands and knees, Mikel looked back at Tristan, waiting for him to come through next.
Tristan ducked down to dive through the opening, as a shot rang out, the air stilled after the reverberation wore off. Time slowed to a stop, while Mikel watched a burst of blood spray out from Tristan's side, his pained cry breaking the silence and stillness, a cloud of black dust rising around him as he fell to the ground.
“Tris!”
Scrambling back through, Mikel grabbed Tristan's hand and dragged him through the wall opening, pushing him over onto his back and pressed his hands to the gaping wound on Tristan's right side. Tristan coughed, spots of blood covering his ashen face, he looked up at Mikel. His breathing slowed, his heart pounding, his skin cooled under the press of Mikel's hands and sweat broke out on his forehead.
“You have to go, Mikel.” Tristan coughed again.
“No, not without you.” He shook his head.
“Yes.” Tristan replied, raising a heavy arm and touched cold fingertips to Mikel's cheek. “Do you remember, when I hit you over the head with my sword?” He asked, his pale green eyes glassy.
“I tried to kiss you.” Mikel nodded, looking behind at the scrape of metal as the gateway in the wall creaked slowly open. “But, I only ended up with a lump on my head, for a week.”
Tristan cupped Mikel's cheek in his shaking hand. “You can kiss me now, then you must leave.” He told him, gently. “Please, Mikel.” He begged him, gripping his shoulder.
Shoulders slumping, Mikel removed his hands from the wound and cupped his face, smearing blood all over him, and leaned in. His trembling lips met Tristan's pale cold ones, tears dripping onto him as they kissed. When Mikel pulled away he saw the glassy vacancy in Tristan's eyes and let out a heart breaking wail as he dragged himself to his feet, picking up the bag with the Box and Key, slinging it over his body and stumbled forward, willing himself not to look back to Tristan, knowing he would never make it, if he did.
“Mikel was able to make it back to Selion with the Key and Box.” Calea read, fingertips following the sentences on the page. “King Gretan had a mighty room to contain the Key and Box, but at King Gretan's death, Crown Prince Calien feared, with the creation of the Mother Boxes and Steppenwolf traversing through the Universe with them on a rampage, that they would no longer be safe in the chamber. So, he hid them elsewhere.”
“That's when he must have sent them to Earth.” Clark said, turning his head to look at her.
“It must be.” Calea replied, turning her head and gasped as their lips accidentally brushed. “I'm so-”
Clark cupped Calea's neck and pressed his lips to hers, his body leaning into hers. Calea paused, the press of Clark's warm lips against hers was confusing for a moment, it had been a long time since she had been kissed. The charge they always generated surged down their spines and Calea kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressed in closer to him, allowing him to deepen their kiss. She moaned at the feel of his tongue running along her bottom lip, before slowly slipping into her mouth, mingling their tastes, rolling her tongue against his, pushing it back for access to his mouth.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Clark pulled her into his lap, needing her closeness. Calea ran her hands through his curls, smirking at how soft they were, shifting she straddled his lap and pressed their chests together. Clark frowned, hearing the tone of her moan change and pulled back, searching her face.
“What's wrong, Calea?” He whispered, watching her heart start to pound in her chest.
“My head hurts.” She sighed, the edge of her vision swam and pulsed, a high frequency hum in her ears. “A lot.”
“Cause we kissed.” He gulped, licking his lips.
“No, this is something else.” She groaned, resting her forehead against his shoulder.
“Tell me what to do?” He begged her, rubbing her back.
“It'll pass.” She said softly, already feeling it start too.
“Has that ever happened before?” Clark asked, relaxing as he heard her heart calm.
“Once or twice in my life.” She replied, relaxing against his solid body. “It passes as quickly as it happens.”
“Maybe, you should rest.” He suggested, twisting to the side and laid her down, carefully covering her up. “You're probably still weak.”
Calea caught his hand as he stood up. “Stay with me?”
“I'm not going anywhere.” He smiled at her, gently squeezing her hand, then waved his hand in front of the sensor by the door, like Calea had when they walked in, turning the lights off.
Spotting a chair, Clark pulled it up beside Calea's bed and picked up The Lore of Selians and Earth that still sat on the edge of her bed, flipping open its cover. His fingertips ghosting over the table of contents, then flipped several chapters in, stopping at a chapter titled: the Creation of Man.
It started seven thousand years ago, it stated, when a group of Selians arrived on what would later be named Earth, three men and three women. They found the planet purely by accident, but finding the water, land and atmosphere habitable and yielding, they decided to stay. Each of the couples went their separate ways, knowing in order to forge new lives on Earth, they would need to separate and sow their oats from different corners. At first, they would return to their landing area and reunite, sharing their growths and changes, their strives and failures. But, the more their societies grew the harder the pilgrimage became, more and more time came between the meetings until the meeting point was forgotten, as well as the reason for the meeting.
Selians had forgotten who they had once been to each other, family and friends. As time progressed they lost all memory of their home world and their abilities as Selians, they became the first Humans. When their paths crossed they would bicker and war, claiming their beliefs and lands were better than the others, forming the Tribes of Men.
A thousand years later, a ship arrived to these Tribes, demanding the objects their ancestors brought with them upon their arrival to Earth. But, none of the Tribes could tell these strange beings where these objects were, let alone what they were.
“You have forgotten your History, your People.”
“No, we made our own History and People.” One of the Humans spat at their feet. “If your People are so advanced why do you not know where they've hidden these things?”
“Because, you were tasked with protecting them and you failed.” the Selian hissed back.
“Not any longer.”
Enraged, the Selians washed their hands of the Humans and went on their way to try and find the ship the original Selians came to Earth in and should have the objects they seek hidden at. They sought out any clues they could find, leading them all over the lands the Tribes of Men occupied. They would find clues here and there to the possible origin of the craft. An old legend spoke of a place that homed large populations of vicious dogs and giant brown furred creatures, leading them to the Carpathian Mountains. Another legend told of a country surrounded by mountains with none of its own and numerous bodies of water. But, the Tribes of Men never found out if the Selians found what they sought, for Steppenwolf arrived on Earth and all efforts were turned in stopping his rampage.
An alarm started screaming through the ship, startling Calea upright and out of bed. Stumbling through the door of her bedroom and through the winding halls, Clark followed after her.
“Sec, shut off the alarms!” She yelled out in Solean and growled when the noise kept sounding. “Sec, for fuck sake!” She huffed, waving her hand in front of a sensor and stepping into the control room of the ship.
“Sec?” Clark frowned, glancing around. “You named the ship, Sec.”
“Selian Eternal Craft, Sec.” Calea replied, dropping into a seat and working various things on the console until the alarm turned off. “Sec?”
“My Lady?” The Craft replied.
“What's with all the noise?” She asked, leaning back in her seat.
“Alien life detected.”
Calea snorted and rolled her eyes. “Which Alien life, Sec? Mine, his or everything Human on this planet?”
“Six kilometres above our current location.” Sec replied.
Clark and Calea exchanged looks. “Show me.”
A light at the top of the console came on and a wide screen was projected from it, showing where the ship was, the surface and a blinking red dot that was steadily getting closer.
“Identify.” She said, swiveling in her chair to reach another console.
“Scanning.”
“What can I do?” Clark asked, watching her get up and go out of the room for a moment.
“Currently?” Calea's voice echoed to him. “Nothing, unless you can tell me what the fucking is digging through almost four miles of bedrock to a craft no one, but me, Ryder and now you should know about.”
“Couldn't it just be Ryder?”
“If it was, Sec would have told me it was Ryder, he's designed to identify us. So, if it says 'alien life form' it's assuredly not Ryder.” She replied, coming back into the room.
“Scan complete.”
“Spit it out then.”
“Semi-organic life form.”
“Semi?” Calea frowned, lifting a quizzical brow. “What's the non-organic part?”
“Technological.” Sec replied with a beep.
Calea frowned at Clark, head tilting to the side. “Victor?”
“He is half Human and half Cyborg.” Clark nodded, frowning at the rapidly approaching dot.
“Sec, full security measures until I say otherwise.” Calea said, getting up. “Stay here.” She tossed over her shoulder, going back down to her room.
Going into her closet, Calea pulled out several articles of clothing and stripped out of the clothes she had been wearing. Sighing, she slipped on the clothing she pulled out, securing a set of buckles at her thighs, waist and torso, before going back to join Clark, seeing the object was almost on them. Clark looked Calea over in her new outfit and got a Cyberpunk vibe from her, smirking.
“What?” She frowned, catching him out the corner of her eye.
“Nothing.” He grinned, guilty. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” She blushed, shaking her head at him.
“Object arrival, one minute.” Sec chimed.
Drumming her fingers against the console and biting her lip, Calea shook her head. “Remove the security measures and open the hatch.” She ordered, pushing off the console and going to the back of the ship.
“What if it isn't Victor?” Clark asked, keeping in stride with her.
“Then, we kill it.” She snorted, smirking at him as the hatch opened, revealing the massive cavern the ship was housed in, stepping off the ramp.
Clark tensed as he stepped off the ramp after her, readying himself for anything that was about to happen. The minute ticked by and the rumble through the cavern echoed off its stone walls, rock falling and breaking apart on the roof of the ship, before whoever it was finally broke through. Clark relaxed, vision honing in.
“It is Victor.”
“How did he find us.” Calea frowned, shaking her head.
“Clark?” Victor's voice echoed out to them. “Calea?”
“What are you doing here?” Clark asked, looking him over.
“I could ask you the same.” Victor replied.
“We asked first.” Calea answered, lifting a brow at him.
“I received a reading here, about an hour ago.” Victor explained to them. “I thought it was something to do with the Mother Boxes.”
“Nothing here, but us and the ship.” Calea replied, glancing around. “There's nothing that should give off a reading like that, unless Steppenwolf has brought the Boxes into the city above.”
“I've already checked that, there's nothing, that's why I came down here.”
“Has there been any other sign of Steppenwolf and the Para-Demons?” Clark asked.
“None, so far.” Victor shook his head. “What are you guys doing down here?”
“This is a Selian ship.” Calea told him, motioning to it. “The one Ryder and I arrived on Earth in. We came here looking for answers.”
“Answers to what?”
Calea looked up at Clark, who nodded at her. “We should return to the Hall, I'll explain it to everyone there.” She told him with a sigh. “And Victor?”
“Yeah?” He lifted his only brow at her.
“Please, cover up the hole you made.” She smirked at him.
He smirked back and nodded his head. “Will do.”
“Go, I'll meet you there.” Calea told Clark, touching his wrist.
“Bu-”
“I have to secure the ship, I'll be fine.” She assured him, pushing up on her toes and kissed his cheek, a lopsided smirk on her face at Victor's shocked expression. “Off you go, Superman. You don't have to worry about this Damsel always being in distress.” She teased him.
“The world out there needs you too.”
“If you're sure.” Clark sighed, tilting his face down closer to hers.
“I'm positive.” She assured him, squeezing his arm and heading back inside the ship. “Sec, close the hatch.” She said, not looking back over her shoulder to Clark.
“Where have the two of you been?” Victor asked as Clark met up with him.
“Around.” Clark answered, looking through the pinprick of light in the ceiling above them.
“Ryder is pissed with you, by the way.” He told him. “So, expect an earful when we get back to the Hall.”
Clark frowned back at the ship, biting the inside of his lip, then shook his head and took off through the opening Victor had made. Calea paced the control area of the ship and ran her hands through her hair, mind racing. How was a Mother Box signal produced in the same area as the ship? There shouldn't be any type of that technology on the ship.
“Sec, full scan the ship. Inform me of any abnormalities.”
“Right away, my Lady.” Sec replied and started the scan. “Scan complete.”
“Well?” Calea sighed, leaning against the console.
“No abnormalities found.”
“What the fuck!” Calea roared, slamming her hand down on the console. “Why can't anything ever make sense.” She mumbled, dropping limply into the command chair behind her, rubbing at her temples. “Sec, maintain all security measures.”
“Security on full.”
“Good, thank you.” She sighed, rubbing her face and pushing up out of the chair.
“Where did you take her?” Ryder demanded as Clark entered the Hall of Justice. “And where is she now?”
“Where I took her, is my private business.” Clark replied, undaunted by him. “And where she is, is where she wants to be. She'll be here, momentarily.”
“She better be.”
“You know, I'm a grown ass woman.” Calea's voice echoed through the main hall.
“A grown woman, who downed Para-Demon blood and almost got herself killed because of it.” Ryder hissed, turning towards her. “Then, kidnapped.”
“He didn't kidnap me, you drama queen.” She barked, shaking her head at him. “He saved my life.”
“Then, where did he take you.”
“That's none of your business, and it doesn't fucking mean he kidnapped me, Ryder.” Calea sighed, temples throbbing. “Why are you always like this?”
“I was tasked to protect you.”
“And all you're doing is suffocating me!” She screamed, at her wit's end.
“Let's just calm down.” Diana said, stepping between them. “She's all right and that's all that matters.”
“Did you learn anything?” Bruce asked, looking between Clark and Calea.
“Several things.” Calea replied, eyeballing Ryder.
“Then, let's go discuss them.” Bruce said, motion towards the round table.
The group sat around the table, Alfred brought out various drinks and Calea started to lay out everything that happened since she drank the Para-Demon's blood, while sipping a cup of tea. Clark sat beside her, putting himself between her and Ryder.
“I learned that Steppenwolf is looking for another Box and a Key that goes, not only, with that Box, but also the Mother Boxes.”
“What does the Key do to the Boxes?” Bruce asked, frowning at her.
“I believe the Key makes whatever Box it is in, stronger.” Calea replied with a sigh. “But, this fourth Box, can destroy the Mother Boxes.”
“Well, if it destroys the Mother Boxes, why would Steppenwolf want it?” Diana asked, tilting her head.
“To destroy it?” Calea shrugged. “If he took it out of our hands, we would have one less thing to stop him from using the Mother Boxes. It could also do something even worse than the Mother Boxes, for all we know.”
“Have you had any luck in finding the Key and Box?” Bruce inquired, troubled.
“We, well, Calea, discovered why the Para-Demons were in Romania.” Clark chimed in. “In a mine shaft, directly under where we fought them, was a strange room.” He explained.
“What was in the room?”
“Ancient Solean writings.” Calea picked up. “Part of the Lore of how Selians became Humans and colonized Earth all those years ago.” She took another sip of her tea. “It was then I got the idea that Steppenwolf must be picking through Human-Selian History and Lore, looking for any reference to the Box and Key. Since, when the two were made my Grandfather, Gretan, had them stolen and sealed into a special room.”
“Then, wouldn't they still be on your home planet?”
“Yes, if my Father didn't have them sent here, when Steppenwolf started his rampage through the Universe with the Mother Boxes, fearing that he would come for them next to make himself even more powerful.”
“We were combing through the Lore at the spaceship that Calea and Ryder arrived in, when Victor showed up.” Clark added, glancing at Victory across the table.
“You were at the ship?” Ryder asked, shocked. “You took him to the ship?”
“Victor said, he found a signal that came from the same area, which is how the three of us met up.” Calea continued, ignoring Ryder.
“It was a signal almost similar to the Mother Boxes, but I only found Clark and Calea there.” Victor added, awkwardly glancing at Ryder, whose face was beet red.
“I scanned the ship after they left to return here, but it didn't find anything out of the ordinary.”
Bruce sat back in his chair, rubbing the tips of his fingers into his graying temples. “Is there anything from the Lore you learned to tell us where Steppenwolf could be looking next?”
“Well,” Clark cleared his throat. “I read in one of the books, that a group of Selians arrived here on Earth not long after Humans forgot who they truly were, looking for where their ancestors, the Selians that colonized the planet, had first landed on their arrival, believing that's where this Box and Key were located.” He paraphrased. “I didn't get to finish it, but one of the places they were searching was 'surrounded by mountains, with none of its own, and several bodies of water.' I don't think it said exactly where that is. But, at least it's semi-identifying.”
“Victor, do you think you could find such a place?” Diana asked.
“It would have to be a place no less than six thousand years old.” Calea told him, building on the information. “That's about how long ago it was, when Selians arrived here.”
“I can do some looking around for a place that matches that general description. It might take a hot second.”
“Well, until Steppenwolf makes the next move, we have nothing else we can do.” Bruce groaned, rubbing his scruffy face.
-- Part IV --
#Of Truth and Justice *fic*#Of Truth and Justice#Viking-Raider Fics#Clark Kent#Clark Kent/OFC#Kal-El#Kal-El/OFC#Superman#Superman/OFC#Justice League#Justice League AU#Calea#Calea Stormborn#Parademons#Steppenwolf#Apokolips#Apokoliptian#fortress of solitude#Antarctic#Romania#Rating: PG#HenryCavill#Henry Cavill#victor Stone#Cyborg#Diana Prince#wonder woman#Bruce Wayne#batman#ray fisher
82 notes
·
View notes
Photo
CC Blogger - New Arrivals @ Collectors Corner : Wednesday 3/17/21
Collectors Corner Parkville - HQ : OPEN for IN STORE SHOPPING with Strong Safety Measures in Place (Hand Sanitizing Stations, Masks Required for All, Social Distancing Required, Limited Capacity, CURBSIDE Pick Up Optional) - According to Baltimore County Guidelines. 1-410-668-3353.
CC Parkville - 2020/2021 STORE HOURS, Sunday 12-6, Mon-Tues 12-7, Wed 9-8, Thurs 11-7, Friday & Saturday 11-8
Collectors Corner - Bel Air Outpost Location : OPEN for IN STORE SHOPPING with Strong Safety Measures in Place (Hand Sanitizing Stations, Masks Required for All, Social Distancing Required, Limited Capacity, CURBSIDE Pick Up Optional) - According to Harford County Guidelines. 1-410-838-1777.
CC Bel Air - 2020/2021 STORE HOURS, Sunday 11-5, Monday/Tuesday - Closed, Wednesday 11-8, Thursday 11-7, Friday/Saturday 11-8
Complete list of items shipping to the stores, some items may be limited in availability. If you see anything you want to purchase on the list and are not a subscription member at Collectors Corner, just contact us and let us know if you want an item held at the stores. email - [email protected]
Subscription Membership & Free Membership Card : Collectors Corner's No Obligation (FREE) Membership Card or FREE (In Store) & ONLINE Subscription Membership saves you 10% Off ALL Bagged & Boarded Comic Book Back Issues, Board Games, Graphic Novels, Manga & Special Orders. Plus Never miss a comic again!
Computerized and organized + you can add and cancel titles on your subscription list from home on your own time, or in the store when you pick up your comics at :
Maryland's Coolest Stores! Since 2001.
2 Super Cool & Convenient Locations -
CC PARKVILLE - HEADQUARTERS
7911 Harford Rd
Parkville, MD 21234
&
CC BEL AIR - OUTPOST
17 N. Main St.
Bel Air, MD 21014
www.collectorscornermd.com
PUBLISHER/TITLE/PRICE
ABLAZE
Maria Llovet’s Eros Psyche #1 (Cover A Mirka Andolfo), $3.99
Maria Llovet’s Eros Psyche #1 (Cover B Maria Llovet), $3.99
Maria Llovet’s Eros Psyche #1 (Cover C
ACTION LAB ENTERTAINMENT
Miranda In Maelstrom #4, $3.99
Sasquatch In Love #4 (Of 4), $3.99
AFTERSHOCK COMICS
Bequest #1 (Cover A Tim Seeley), $4.99
Bequest #1 (Cover B Tyler Walpole), AR
Dead Day Volume 1 TP, $16.99
Maniac Of New York #1 (Andrea Mutti 2nd Printing Variant Cover), $4.99
Red Atlantis #5, $3.99
AHOY COMICS
Happy Hour #5, $3.99
ALBATROSS FUNNYBOOKS
Goon Volume 3 Fishy Men Witchy Women And Bitter Beer TP, $17.99
ARCHIE COMIC PUBLICATIONS
Sabrina The Teenage Witch Something Wicked TP, $14.99
World Of Archie Jumbo Comics Digest #107, $7.99
World Of Betty And Veronica Jumbo Comics Digest #3, $7.99
AWA STUDIOS
American Ronin TP, $9.99
E-Ratic #4, $3.99
BEHEMOTH COMICS
Hotline Miami Wildlife #7 (Of 8), $3.99
Steambound #2, $3.99
BOOM! STUDIOS
Abbott 1973 #3 (Of 5)(Cover A Taj Tenfold), $3.99
Abbott 1973 #3 (Of 5)(Cover B Raul Allen), $3.99
Abbott 1973 #3 (Of 5)(Cover C Dani), AR
Abbott 1973 #3 (Of 5)(Cover D Dani Black & White Virgin Variant), AR
Expanse #4 (Of 4)(Cover A W. Scott Forbes), $4.99
Expanse #4 (Of 4)(Cover B Tigh Walker), $4.99
Expanse #4 (Of 4)(Cover C Will Sliney Virgin Variant), AR
Expanse #4 (Of 4)(Cover D Will Sliney Black & White Variant), AR
Jim Henson’s The Storyteller Tricksters #1 (Of 4)(Cover A Peach Momoko), $4.99
Jim Henson’s The Storyteller Tricksters #1 (Of 4)(Cover B Dani Pendergast), $4.99
Jim Henson’s The Storyteller Tricksters #1 (Of 4)(Cover C Blank Variant), $4.99
Jim Henson’s The Storyteller Tricksters #1 (Of 4)(Cover D Peach Momoko Virgin Variant), AR
Orcs #2 (Of 5)(Cover A Christine Larsen), $4.99
Orcs #2 (Of 5)(Cover B Sweeney Boo), $4.99
Orcs #2 (Of 5)(Cover C Mirka Andolfo Virgin Variant), AR
Origins #5 (Of 6)(Cover A Jakub Rebelka), $3.99
Origins #5 (Of 6)(Cover B Jakub Rebelka Virgin Variant), AR
Power Rangers Drakkon New Dawn TP, $19.99
COMIC SHOP NEWS
Comic Shop News #1752, AR
DARK HORSE COMICS
Art Of Keyforge HC, $39.99
B.P.R.D. The Devil You Know Omnibus HC, $39.99
Bill And Ted Are Doomed TP, $19.99
Curtiss Hill TP, $19.99
Cyberpunk 2077 Volume 1 Trauma Team TP, $19.99
Cycle Of The Red Moon Volume 2 The Children Of Darkness TP, $14.99
Danganronpa Another Episode Ultra Despair Girls Volume 3 TP, $12.99
Disney PIXAR Monsters Inc. And Monsters University The Story Of The Movies In Comics HC, $14.99
El Ciclo de la Luna Roja-Libro 2 Los Hijos de las Tinieblas TP, $19.99
Everything Volume 2 TP, $19.99
Freaks Of The Heartland TP (2nd Edition), $19.99
Gert And The Sacred Stones TP, $14.99
Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology Volume 1 HC, $29.99
Orphan And The Five Beasts #1 (Of 4)(Cover A James Stokoe), $3.99
Tales From The Umbrella Academy Volume 1 You Look Like Death TP, $19.99
Usagi Yojimbo Saga Volume 1 HC (Limited Edition)(2nd Edition), $79.99
Usagi Yojimbo Saga Volume 1 TP (2nd Edition), $29.99
DC COMICS
Batgirl Returns Omnibus HC, $99.99
Batman Beyond Volume 8 The Eradication Agenda TP, $16.99
Batman Vs Ra’s al Ghul #5 (Of 6)(Cover A Neal Adams), $3.99
Catwoman #29 (Cover A Joelle Jones), $3.99
Catwoman #29 (Cover B Jenny Frison Card Stock Variant), AR
Justice League #59 (Cover A David Marquez), $4.99
Justice League #59 (Cover B Kael Ngu Wraparound Variant), AR
Justice League #59 (Cover C Jim Lee Snyder Cut Variant), AR
Justice League #59 (Cover D Lee Bermejo Snyder Cut Variant), AR
Justice League #59 (Cover E Liam Sharp Snyder Cut Variant), AR
Justice League #59 (Cover F Liam Sharp Snyder Cut Black & White Variant), AR
Justice League #59 (Cover G Lee Bermejo Snyder Cut Black & White Variant), AR
Justice League #59 (Cover H Jim Lee Snyder Cut Black & White Variant), AR
Looney Tunes #259 (Cover A Walter Carzon), $2.99
Nightwing #78 (Cover A Bruno Redondo), $3.99
Nightwing #78 (Cover B Skan), AR
Revolver TP, $19.99
Sandman The Deluxe Edition Volume 2 HC, $49.99
Sheriff Of Babylon TP, $29.99
Superman Red And Blue #1 (Of 6)(Cover A Gary Frank), $5.99
Superman Red And Blue #1 (Of 6)(Cover B Lee Bermejo), $5.99
Superman Red And Blue #1 (Of 6)(Cover C Yoshitaka Amano), $5.99
Superman Vs Shazam TP, $24.99
Truth And Justice #2 (Cover A Khary Randolph), $4.99
Truth And Justice #2 (Cover B Ryan Benjamin & Richard Friend), $4.99
DYNAMITE ENTERTAINMENT
Vampirella The Dark Powers #4 (Cover A Jae Lee), $3.99
Vampirella The Dark Powers #4 (Cover B Joseph Michael Linsner), $3.99
Vampirella The Dark Powers #4 (Cover C Jonathan Lau), $3.99
Vengeance Of Vampirella #13 (Cover A Lucio Parrillo)(CGC Graded Edition), AR
Vengeance Of Vampirella #13 (Cover B Ben Oliver)(CGC Graded Edition), AR
FANTACO ENTERPRISES
Monster Art Of Basil Gogos SC (Werewolf Variant Cover), $75.00
Monster Art Of Basil Gogos SC (Dracula Variant Cover), $75.00
FANTAGRAPHICS BOOKS
Walt Disney’s Uncle Scrooge Volume 5 Island In The Sky HC, $29.99
HEAVY METAL MAGAZINE
Dark Wing #4 (Of 10), $2.99
Savage Circus #4 (Of 10), $2.99
HUMANOIDS
Count TP, $19.99
Young Lenoardo HC, $14.99
IDW PUBLISHING
G.I. Joe Castle Fall #1 (Cover A Chris Evenhuis), $7.99
G.I. Joe Castle Fall #1 (Cover B Freddie E. Williams II), $7.99
Johnny Boo Volume 12 Johnny Boo And The Silly Blizzard HC, $9.99
My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic #95 (Cover A Toni Kuusisto), $3.99
My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic #95 (Cover B Brianna Garcia), $3.99
My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic #95 (Cover C Erin Hunting), AR
Ragnarok Volume 3 The Breaking Of Helheim HC, $24.99
Star Trek Year Five #19 (Cover A Stephen Thompson), $3.99
Star Trek Year Five #19 (Cover B J.J. Lendl), AR
Star Wars Adventures Volume 2 #4 (Cover A Francesco Francavilla), $3.99
Star Wars Adventures Volume 2 #4 (Cover B Yael Nathan), $3.99
Star Wars Adventures Volume 2 #4 (Cover C Francesco Francavilla), AR
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #115 (Cover A Sophie Campbell, $3.99
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #115 (Cover B Kevin Eastman), $3.99
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #115 (Cover C Gavin Guidry), AR
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles The Last Ronin Director’s Cut #1 (Cover A Kevin Eastman/Esau Escorza/Isaac Escorza), $10.99
Transformers Back To The Future #3 (Of 4)(Cover A Juan Samu), $3.99
Transformers Back To The Future #3 (Of 4)(Cover B Phil Murphy), $3.99
Transformers Back To The Future #3 (Of 4)(Cover C Dan Schoening), AR
IMAGE COMICS
Fall Volume 1 TP, $16.99
Head Lopper #15 (Cover A Andrew MacLean & Jordie Bellaire), $5.99
Head Lopper #15 (Cover B Dennis Brown), $5.99
Invincible #1 (Amazon Prime Video Edition), $3.99
Kick-Ass Vs Hit-Girl #5 (Of 5)(Cover A John Romita Jr.), $3.99
Kick-Ass Vs Hit-Girl #5 (Of 5)(Cover B John Romita Jr. Black & White Variant), $3.99
Kick-Ass Vs Hit-Girl #5 (Of 5)(Cover C Emily Brooks Millar), $3.99
Nocterra #1 (Cover F Glow In The Dark Variant), $3.99
Oblivion Song By Kirkman And De Felici Volume 5 TP, $16.99
Radiant Black #2 (Cover A Marcello Costa), $3.99
Radiant Black #2 (Cover B Diego Greco), $3.99
Radiant Black #2 (Cover C Rod Reis), AR
Stillwater By Zdarsky And Perez Volume 1 Rage Rage TP, $16.99
Tartarus #10, $3.99
Ultramega By James Harren #1 (Cover A James Harren & Dave Stewart), $7.99
Ultramega By James Harren #1 (Cover B Tradd Moore), $7.99
Ultramega By James Harren #1 (Cover C Blank Variant), $7.99
Ultramega By James Harren #1 (Cover D Tradd Moore Raw Variant), AR
Ultramega By James Harren #1 (Cover E James Harren Raw Variant), AR
Walking Dead Deluxe #11 (Cover A David Finch & Dave McCaig), $3.99
Walking Dead Deluxe #11 (Cover B Tony Moore & Dave McCaig), $3.99
Walking Dead Deluxe #11 (Cover C Julian Totino Tedesco), $3.99
MAD CAVE STUDIOS
Knights Of The Golden Sun #11, $3.99
They Fell From The Sky #2, $3.99
MARVEL COMICS
Avengers By Jason Aaron Volume 1 HC, $34.99
Black Knight Curse Of The Ebony Blade #1 (Of 5)(Cover A Iban Coello), $3.99
Black Knight Curse Of The Ebony Blade #1 (Of 5)(Cover B Peach Momoko), AR
Black Knight Curse Of The Ebony Blade #1 (Of 5)(Cover C Peach Momoko Virgin Variant), AR
Black Knight Curse Of The Ebony Blade #1 (Of 5)(Cover D Juan Cabal Stormbreakers Variant), AR
Black Knight Curse Of The Ebony Blade #1 (Of 5)(Cover E Todd Nauck Headshot Variant), AR
Black Knight Curse Of The Ebony Blade #1 (Of 5)(Cover F Ron Lim), AR
Black Knight Curse Of The Ebony Blade #1 (Of 5)(Cover G Stephanie Hans Legend Of The Black Knight), AR
Black Knight Curse Of The Ebony Blade #1 (Of 5)(Cover H Black Blank Variant), AR
Captain America Anniversary Tribute #1 (Cover A Steve McNiven), $5.99
Captain America Anniversary Tribute #1 (Cover B Mark Brooks), AR
Captain Marvel #27 (Cover A Marco Checchetto), $3.99
Captain Marvel #27 (Cover B Stephanie Hans), AR
Captain Marvel #27 (Cover C Bernard Chang Captain Marvel-Thing Variant), AR
Champions #5 (Cover A Toni Infante), $3.99
Champions #5 (Cover B Sara Pichelli Ms Marvel-Thing Variant), AR
Daredevil By Chip Zdarsky Volume 1 To Heaven Through Hell HC, $34.99
Dawn Of X Volume 14 TP, $17.99
Hawkeye Go West TP, $12.99
Iron Fist Heart Of The Dragon #3 (Of 6)(Cover A Billy Tan), $3.99
Iron Fist Heart Of The Dragon #3 (Of 6)(Cover B Jeffrey Veregge), AR
Iron Man #7 (Cover A Alex Ross), $3.99
Iron Man #7 (Cover B Michael Cho Iron Man Two-Tone Variant), AR
Iron Man #7 (Cover C Jen Bartel Hellcat Women’s History Month Variant), AR
Iron Man Volume 1 Big Iron TP, $15.99
Juggernaut No Stopping Now TP, $15.99
King In Black Spider-Man #1 (Cover A Carlos E. Gomez), $4.99
King In Black Spider-Man #1 (Cover B Federico Vincentini), AR
King In Black Spider-Man #1 (Cover C Rob Liefeld Deadpool 30th Anniversary Variant), AR
Marvel #6 (Of 6)(Cover A Alex Ross), $4.99
Marvel #6 (Of 6)(Cover B Lee Bermejo), AR
Official Handbook Of The Marvel Universe Deluxe Edition Omnibus HC (John Byrne She-Hulk Book Market Cover), $150.00
Official Handbook Of The Marvel Universe Deluxe Edition Omnibus HC (John Byrne Spider-Man Direct Market Cover), $150.00
S.W.O.R.D. #4 (Cover A Valerio Schiti), $3.99
S.W.O.R.D. #4 (Cover B Matteo Scalera), AR
Spider-Woman #10 (Cover A Jung-Geun Yoon), $3.99
Spider-Woman #10 (Cover B Ron Lim), AR
Spider-Woman #10 (Cover C Michael Cho Spider-Woman Two-Tone Variant), AR
Spider-Woman #10 (Cover D Jen Bartel Spider-Woman Women’s History Month Variant), AR
Star Wars Bounty Hunters #10 (Cover A Mattia De Iulis), $3.99
Star Wars Bounty Hunters #10 (Cover B Chris Sprouse Empire Strikes Back Variant), AR
Star Wars The High Republic #1 (Ario Anindito 4th Printing Variant Cover), $3.99
Thor #13 (Cover A Olivier Coipel), $3.99
Thor #13 (Cover B Nic Klein), AR
Thor #13 (Cover C Michael Cho Thor Two-Tone Variant), AR
Tony Stark Iron Man By Dan Slott Omnibus HC (Adi Granov Book Market Cover), $100.00
Tony Stark Iron Man By Dan Slott Omnibus HC (Alex Ross Direct Market Cover), $100.00
Trials Of Ultraman #1 (Of 5)(Cover A Arthur Adams), $4.99
Trials Of Ultraman #1 (Of 5)(Cover B Arthur Adams Kaiju Variant), AR
Trials Of Ultraman #1 (Of 5)(Cover C Francesco Manna), AR
Trials Of Ultraman #1 (Of 5)(Cover D Peach Momoko), AR
Trials Of Ultraman #1 (Of 5)(Cover E Peach Momoko Virgin Variant), AR
Trials Of Ultraman #1 (Of 5)(Cover F Kia Asamiya), AR
Trials Of Ultraman #1 (Of 5)(Cover G Matthew Frank), AR
Trials Of Ultraman #1 (Of 5)(Cover H TV Variant), AR
Ultraman Volume 1 The Rise Of Ultraman TP, $17.99
X-Force #18 (Cover A Joshua Cassara), $3.99
X-Force #18 (Cover B Rob Liefeld Deadpool 30th Anniversary Variant), AR
ONI PRESS
Invader Zim Quarterly Zim’s Greatest Plan #1 (Cover A Fred Stresing), $5.99
Invader Zim Quarterly Zim’s Greatest Plan #1 (Cover B Cab), $5.99
Martian Ghost Centaur SC, $19.99
One Soul 10th Anniversary Edition HC, $24.99
REBELLION / 2000AD
Judge Dredd End Of Days TP, $19.99
SCOUT COMICS
Children Of The Grave #3, $3.99
Midnight Western Theater #1 (Of 5), $3.99
Perhapanauts First Blood TP, $19.99
Wild Bull And Chipper #1, $1.99
SELFMADEHERO
Case Of Charles Dexter Ward GN, $13.99
Dream-Quest Of Unknown Kadath GN, $13.99
King In Yellow GN, $13.99
Shadow Out Of Time GN, $13.99
TITAN COMICS
Muhammad Ali Kinshasa 1974 HC, $29.99
Star Wars The Age Of Resistance The Official Collector’s Edition Magazine (Newsstand Edition), $14.99
Star Wars The Age Of Resistance The Official Collector’s Edition Magazine (Previews Exclusive Edition), $14.99
TOKYOPOP
Fox And Little Tanuki Volume 3 GN, $12.99
UDON ENTERTAINMENT
COMP x Artists Sponsorship Campaign Artbook SC, $28.00
VALIANT ENTERTAINMENT
Bloodshot Rising Spirit TP, $24.99
Savage #2 (Cover A Marcus To, $3.99
Savage #2 (Cover B Michael Walsh, $3.99
Savage #2 (Cover C David Lopez Pre-Order Edition Variant), AR
VAULT COMICS
I Walk With Monsters #1 (Cover A Sally Cantirino), $3.99
I Walk With Monsters #1 (Cover B Jen Hickman), $3.99
VERTICAL COMICS
With A Dog And A Cat Everyday Is Fun Volume 3 GN, $12.95
VIZ MEDIA
20th Century Boys The Perfect Edition Volume 11 TP, $19.99
Beast Complex Volume 1 GN, $12.99
Beastars Volume 11 GN, $12.99
Fly Me To The Moon Volume 4 GN, $9.99
Hell’s Paradise Jigokuraku Volume 7 GN, $12.99
Love Me Love Me Not Volume 7 GN, $9.99
WAKE ENTERTAINMENT
Ascencia #3, $3.99
WARRANT PUBLISHING COMPANY
Creeps #30, $5.95
ZENESCOPE ENTERTAINMENT
Robyn Hood Cult Of The Spider #1 (One Shot)(Cover A Igor Vitorino), $5.99
Robyn Hood Cult Of The Spider #1 (One Shot)(Cover B Josh Burns), $5.99
Robyn Hood Cult Of The Spider #1 (One Shot)(Cover C John Royle), $5.99
Games – FUNKO
Five Nights At Freddy’s Survive ‘Til 6AM Game, AR
Games – STUDIO 71
Umbrella Academy Board Game, AR
TOYS - T-SHIRTS & COLLECTIBLES
5 Points Warriors Action Figure Box Set, AR
Batman V Superman Batman II Symbol T-Shirt LG, AR
Batman V Superman Batman II Symbol T-Shirt MED, AR
Batman V Superman Batman II Symbol T-Shirt SM, AR
Batman V Superman Batman II Symbol T-Shirt XL, AR
Batman V Superman Batman II Symbol T-Shirt XXL, AR
BST AXN Big Trouble In Little China Lightning 5 Inch Action Figure, AR
BST AXN Kiss The Demon 5 Inch Action Figure, AR
BST AXN Lord Of The Rings Gandalf The Grey 5 Inch Action Figure, AR
Creature From The Black Lagoon Silver Screen ReAction In Box, AR
Disney Series 1 D-Formz Blind Mystery Box Assortment, AR
Joker Bang T-Shirt LG, AR
Joker Bang T-Shirt MED, AR
Joker Bang T-Shirt SM, AR
Joker Bang T-Shirt XL, AR
Joker Bang T-Shirt XXL, AR
Marvel Select Rampaging Hulk Action Figure, AR
POP DC Heroes Death Metal Batman With Guitar Previews Exclusive, AR
POP Disney Pinocchio Bluefairy With Glitter Chase Vinyl Figure, AR
POP Disney Pinocchio Geppetto With Accordion Vinyl Figure, AR
POP Disney Pinocchio School Bound Pinocchio Vinyl Figure, AR
POP Heroes Wonder Woman 80th Classic Wonder Woman Golden Age Vinyl Figure, AR
POP Heroes Wonder Woman 80th
POP Star Wars Star Wars Concept Alternate Vader Vinyl Figure, AR
POP Star Wars Star Wars Concept C-3PO Vinyl Figure, AR
POP Star Wars Star Wars Concept R2-D2 Vinyl Figure, AR
POP Star Wars Star Wars Concept Yoda Vinyl Figure, AR
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Casey Jones W3 ReAction Figure, AR
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Damaged Foot Soldier W3 ReAction Figure, AR
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Samurai Leonardo W3 ReAction Figure, AR
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Sewer Surfer W3 ReAction Figure, AR
Vinyl Soda Cheetos Chester With Chase, AR
Vinyl Soda DC Martian Manhunter With Chase, AR
Vinyl Soda Hanna Barbera Quick Draw Mcgraw With Chase, AR
Vinyl Soda Jack Torrance With Chase, AR
Vinyl Soda Luchadores Hulk With Metallic With Chase, AR
Vinyl Soda Luchadores Spider-Man With Metallic With Chase, AR
Vinyl Soda Suicide Squad Harley With Chase, AR
Vinyl Soda Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Raphael With Chase, AR
11 notes
·
View notes
Link
Just as America’s Syrian bases, including its two main headquarters — Advanced Operational Base West and Advanced Operational Base East — the Lafarge Cement Factory, and a facility at Manbij were being abandoned, in another sense entirely they suddenly came to exist (at least in news reports anyway). This is something that Castle Black, in its relatively brief life, never officially did. When I asked about its status in late August, for example, Combined Joint Task Force-Operation Inherent Resolve refused to even acknowledge the existence of such a base. Now, the outpost and its status are no secret at all. “Castle Black is closed,” CJTF-OIR’s media team told TomDispatch more recently.
According to the Pentagon’s official inventory of bases, the Department of Defense (DoD) “manages a worldwide real property portfolio” that spans 45 foreign countries. All told, there are 514 official “DoD sites” overseas, the majority of them in Germany (194 sites), Japan (121 sites), and South Korea (83 sites). This list, however, has never included mention of even one base in Syria — or, for that matter, any of the well-known U.S. garrisons, large and small, in Afghanistan or Iraq.
The common estimate of foreign U.S. military bases is actually around 800. Such a count is little more than an educated guess because of the cloak of secrecy the Pentagon has thrown over the subject. To obfuscate things further, the military employs a plethora of euphemisms to avoid calling U.S. military outposts like Castle Black precisely what they are.
Officially, Castle Black was never a base. It was, instead, a “Mission Support Site” or MSS. And while U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM), which oversees United States military operations in the Middle East, acknowledges the existence of MSSes, it won’t provide even a basic count of them, let alone more detailed information about such outposts, significant numbers of which exist across the region. The media operations staff of CJTF-OIR responded in an email to a TomDispatch request on the subject this way: “Due to operational security reasons, a total number and locations of the various mission support sites are not available.”
And keep in mind that such Military Support Sites only begin to scratch the surface when it comes to the Pentagon’s inventory of non-base outposts. So when else is a military base not a military base? When, for example, it’s an Initial Contingency Location, which, according to a Pentagon “Contingency Basing” manual, is characterized by austere infrastructure and limited services. Or when it’s a Temporary Contingency Location, which provides “near-term support for a contingency operation” and is characterized by “expedient infrastructure.” Or even when it’s a Semipermanent Contingency Location, which provides support for prolonged contingency operations and is characterized by “enhanced infrastructure.” Or when it’s a full-fledged Contingency Location — a “non-enduring location outside of the United States that supports and sustains operations during contingencies or other operations.”
Such U.S. non-bases also include Forward Operating Sites (FOSes), which are officially defined as “scalable” locations intended for “rotational use by operating forces.” While “rotational use” might make such a place sound like a distinctly temporary location, possibly one abandoned for long stretches, that’s hardly the case. Camp Lemonnier in the sun-bleached Horn-of-Africa nation of Djibouti, for example, is not only an FOS, but also America’s largest base on the African continent and the headquarters for Combined Joint Task Force-Horn of Africa (CJTF-HOA), which includes soldiers, sailors, and airmen, some of them members of the Special Operations forces. The camp — which also supports CENTCOM — couldn’t be less temporary, having expanded from 88 acres to 600 acres, while the number of troops stationed there has jumped by more than 500%, to 5,500, since 2002.
Another type of outpost is a cooperative security location, or CSL, which is supposedly neither “a U.S. facility or base.” According to the Pentagon’s official definition, it has “little or no permanent United States presence” and “is maintained by periodic Service, contractor, or host nation support.” This, too, is completely disingenuous. A CSL in the remote smuggling hub of Agadez, Niger, for example, is the premier U.S. military outpost in West Africa. That drone non-base, located at Nigerien Air Base 201, not only boasts a $100 million-plus construction price tag but, with operating expenses, is expected to cost U.S. taxpayers more than a quarter of a billion dollars by 2024 when the 10-year agreement for its use ends.
The primary types of places that the Pentagon will actually call “bases” are huge World War II and Cold War legacy sites like Ramstein Air Base in Germany, Kadena Air Base in Okinawa, Japan, and Camp Humphreys in South Korea. These they call “Main Operating Bases.” Humphreys, for example, began its existence in 1919 as Pyeongtaek Airfield, a product of the brutal Japanese occupation of Korea. Since the Korean War (1950-1953), the U.S. military has occupied the site, transforming it into America’s largest overseas military base. The Pentagon refers to Forward Operating Sites, Cooperative Security Locations, and Main Operating Bases as “enduring locations” which are meant to afford “strategic access” to American forces and support Washington’s security interests for the “foreseeable future.”
Despite these and other euphemisms for bases that appear in the Defense Department’s 2019 edition of Joint Publication 4-04 “Contingency Basing” and its most recent “Base Structure Report,” many other types of smaller baselets get scant attention — including Combat Outposts and Fire Support Bases. Even more types are noted in various official publications and military news releases, often with conflicting definitions. The Army’s Ranger Handbook, for instance, defines a “patrol base” as a “security perimeter” set up when a squad or platoon is “conducting a patrol,” but notes that it should “not be occupied for more than a 24-hour period (except in an emergency).” An Army counterinsurgency manual, on the other hand, states that a “patrol base can be permanent or temporary.” And a 2008 CENTCOM news release mentioned that soldiers with the 2nd Battalion, 502nd Infantry Regiment had been stationed at Iraq’s Patrol Base Copper for seven months.
While Mission Support Sites are mentioned in a few Pentagon publications, they are also poorly defined. When asked just what an MSS actually is, an official at CENTCOM offered this none-too-illuminating response: “Mission support sites, or bases, are sites that temporarily exist to provide support for as long as a mission requires.” That same official went on to note that the U.S. and its allies had “opened and closed numerous bases throughout the campaign in Syria and Iraq,” but refused to provide details or even a simple count of how many bases had been closed, let alone opened. The CJTF-OIR media team was a bit more forthcoming, explaining that a mission support site is “comparable to an initial contingency location (ICL) or a patrol base” and that such facilities support up to 200 personnel for a “total duration of operations lasting less than six months.”
31 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Adventures in Black Spire Outpost - Finn/Rey Long Shot
This was written for this week’s theme for @finnreyfridays. I’m planning on going to Batuu myself early next year, so learning about all the details of the park was fun!
This fic is super long (14k words) and can also be read on AO3 here.
I.
“Hello, hello, my friends!” greeted the cheerful Weequay with open arms as Finn and Rey exited down the ramp of the Millennium Falcon. They were taken aback by how friendly and loud he was at first, not used to being around someone so boisterous. Finn made a quick glance around the hangar to make sure no one was watching, a force of habit when you had been on the run from the First Order for over three standard months.
“Are you Hondo?” he asked.
The Weequay laughed. “Yes, and welcome to Ohnaka Transport Solutions!” He raised his arms up as if he were presenting a state-of-the-art naval base and not a junky warehouse on the Outer Rim world of Batuu.
In desperate need of help, General Organa reached out to an old buddy of Han’s, a space pirate with a colorful history. “That Hondo Ohnaka survives everything,” she had breathed out, exasperated, when she found him again. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised if he outlives all of us.”
Rey and Finn weren’t sure how long the lifespan of Weequays were, but Leia implied that he could remember the time before the Empire, even the time before the Clone Wars. If that were true, then he really did survive everything.
After a quick introduction, Hondo showed them around the hangar. There wasn’t much to see, though a couple of scrap parts from a century-old starfighter briefly piqued Rey’s curiosity. Mainly, the hangar was a mess and whoever made up Hondo's help were not cleaning up after themselves. There was still a sabacc game left out on crate, overturned to be used as a table.
Hondo looked at the Falcon with longing. “Such a fine freighter,” he mused as he went over to touch the hull with affection.
“General Organa told us you needed to borrow her for a while,” Rey mentioned. “But she didn’t say what for.”
With a wide grin, Hondo nodded his head enthusiastically. “Today my friends, I am offering you the opportunity of a lifetime.” It sounded like the start of a sales pitch, which wasn’t how either the pair thought this would go. “I have a crew that will transport my merchandise across the galaxy and the Millennium Falcon is the perfect ship for the job!”
Rey thought she understood. “You mean us?” She didn’t agree to anything previously, but she supposed if General Organa had offered up their help, they had to. They were told that Hondo would do supply runs for them if he could have occasional use of the Corellian freighter. It seemed fair enough, if Hondo just wanted to use it for his business.
“No, no,” Hondo laughed. “I have my own crew. No, you can just… relax here for the day while my crew is out. It won’t be long.”
Finally coming down the Falcon’s ramp, Chewbacca roared back at Hondo, waving his large arms around.
“Ah! Chewbacca my fine furry friend!” Hondo greeted him just as warmly as he did Finn and Rey.
The Wookiee growled at him again, a warning.
Hondo tried to appease him. “No, no. There is nothing you need to worry about! It’s just as we bargained. We use the ship, you get the supplies you need. You help the Resistance and I get all profits!”
It didn’t seem like Chewbacca was happy with this bargain, but nonetheless, he relented with another wave of his arm.
Finn looked to Rey for translation as their friend walked out of the hangar. She shrugged. “I guess it’s okay. Chewie just wants to make sure the Falcon returns back in one piece.”
“But it’s just merchandise, right?” Finn was perplexed. “How hard could it be to deliver a few shipments?”
The look on Rey’s face said enough for him to want to drop it.
“So then, what are we supposed to do while we wait around?” he prompted.
Hondo appeared again, his arms full with a small crate that rattled. Obviously, something was alive in there, but Finn took Rey’s cue and decided it was better not to ask.
“My friends, you’ve never been to Batuu, have you?” When the pair shook their heads, he sat the crate down and for good measure, sat another nearby crate on top of it. He led them outside the hangar, where they got their first glimpse of the outpost.
They looked out to a street that might have sat there for centuries, given how old the local architecture made of gray stone and clay looked. Black Spire was a bustling trade outpost for the Outer Rim, lively with locals and travelers alike. But it was surrounded by natural beauty. From where they stood, they could see the rock spires the area was named for, nestled between lush green trees and ferns. It looked a little gritty for an outpost, but they could easily see the old world charm. In the light of the setting sun, the sky was bathed in layers of light pink and blue.
“There’s plenty for you to do around here,” Hondo continued. “Lots to see. Just keep your heads low. We got lots of travelers from all over, see? People you might not want to run into,” he hinted.
The First Order banners hanging over an entryway was more than enough warning to them.
“Are there Resistance sympathizers here?” Finn asked.
Hondo nodded. “You will meet many people here from all walks of life. My advice is you be careful of how much information about yourself you give them.”
Finn frowned as he looked around him again and looked down at his clothes. The black trousers and the light gray jacket looked normal enough to fit in here. He wasn’t so sure about Rey’s gray drapings though. Even without the lightsaber clipped to her side, the outfit and quarterstaff she continued to keep at her side was a little out of the ordinary. If the First Order had a bounty on their arrest out, it might be hard to hide.
“Go!” Hondo shooed them away. “Go see the world. Have fun, and before you know it Hondo will have your ship back to you full of supplies.”
They could take a hint to know when they were no longer wanted. Chewbacca wasn’t with them, but it sounded like he was familiar enough with the area for them not to worry about him. Even if the First Order was around, it might be nice to just be tourists for once.
They quickly realized after they made their first steps into the marketplace that they would not be able to relax.
Flanked by two stormtroopers in their gleaming white armor, a First Order officer stood in the center of the street, calling out to the civilians as they passed him by. Many avoided eye contact with him as they quickened their pace to get away, but some gave him interested glances.
“Citizens. Travelers,” he called out. “I have some important news for you. Step forward. I won’t bite.” He grinned as he urged passerbys to come near him, trying to look approachable.
The congregation that stopped around him made it difficult for anyone else to get by. Deciding it would be best to wait it out and use the cover of the crowd to keep out of sight, Finn and Rey slumped and sat against a wall as far away from the officer as they could.
“I thought officers were supposed to be clean-shaven?” Rey observed, looking at the thick beard around the man’s face.
Finn mumbled, “Probably doesn’t get a personal inspection that often if he’s based here. Some guys get let off easy.”
The officer continued his speech. He spoke confidently, with a honey-laced tongue. “All of you in this outpost, hear me. The First Order is now in power. The Resistance is destroyed but they won’t accept it. They don’t see that the First Order brings stability, order, and the loot of war to the galaxy.”
Next to Finn, Rey made a muffled gagging noise.
“The Resistance would disrupt this balance. You see, they bring conflict, oppression, even war, and we will be forced to respond with the same. And yet, they press on. They survive, keep fighting for this hopeless cause.”
A couple of people in the crowd nodded in agreement, but the rest of the onlookers remained still and silent.
The officer looked pleased with himself. “We believe a Resistance spy was sent here to Batuu. If you know anything, we invite you to step forward.”
Startling, Finn looked around to make sure no one was looking at him and Rey. No one seemed to notice them though, and he relaxed again as he turned his head to see Rey looked almost equally fearful.
“Do you know if there’s a spy here?” he whispered carefully.
She shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything, but it sounds plausible. There might be a lot to uncover here. Or maybe he’s recruiting.”
That seemed as good as any of an explanation to Finn. If the First Order was here, there might be a lot of intel to get and it was obvious that the enemy wasn’t here just to find a spy. A busy outpost like this was a prime area to find volunteers to join the ranks. From the reports the Resistance received from their remaining intelligence officers, more and more people were voluntarily joining the First Order’s ranks. Many were Imperial sympathizers to start with, too young to remember life under the Empire, but there were some lured in with the promise of work and a rewarding career. Rey said she couldn’t blame those people; everyone just wanted to survive and rarely saw the desert for the dunes.
“Some of you may even support the Resistance and if this is true, we will find out and then you will feel the consequences of your own actions.” The officer’s voice became commanding and threatening, far different from the warmth he tried to express at the start of his speech. He looked around the faces in the crowd pointedly. Maybe he already had singled out a few Resistance supporters.
Seemingly done with his speech, the officer went quiet as he waited for others to approach him. The crowd began to move again and Finn and Rey took it as their chance to sneak away. They had seen enough.
II.
A passing duo of stormtroopers made Finn and Rey duck into the first open building they came across. They just needed to stay out of sight for a few moments.
The building turned out to be a cantina, and judging by the line waiting to order drinks, it was popular. Deciding it wouldn’t be a bad place to lie low for a bit, they waited their turn until they could get seats at the bar and read off the menu.
They spluttered their speech when they saw the prices for the house specialties on a menu laid out on the counter.
“Seriously?” Finn gaped.
Rey looked just as baffled. “I didn’t think people were that wealthy here.”
“Four-hundred-twenty credits for a drink? What’s in it?”
“I think it’s because it comes with a souvenir mug…”
“We could buy something that looks the same and learn to make the drink ourselves at half the cost.” Finn glared at the menu. “I don’t think General Organa would be happy if we used the Resistance’s credits on overpriced drinks.”
Rey shook her head. “No, but there are some cheaper drinks on here. I don’t think she’ll care if we get those. We’re trying to blend in anyway.” Turning to the man with a canine face and lavender skin, she eyed what he held in his hand. “What’s that?” she asked him.
“Fuzzy Tauntaun,” he mumbled.
“Is it any good?”
“Sweet,” he responded before going back to his drink.
She looked for it on the menu, her finger running down the text until she found it. “Well, that’s not too bad.” It took her a moment to summon the bartender, a short human woman that looked like she might have worked there for a long time.
After taking Rey’s order, she looked at Finn. “What about you?”
Skimming the menu quickly, he settled on the cider on tap. “Uh, a Spice Runner, please.”
The bar tender made Rey’s drink in front of them and left for a moment to pour Finn’s cider into a glass. It tasted fresh and far better than the ales the Resistance pilots loved. He thought he got a hint of summer berries in his first drink.
But he watched Rey with interest as she looked over the nectar-like drink that foamed gently at the top. She sipped it at first, deciding if she liked it.
“Well?” he asked.
She grinned. “Tastes like fruit. It’s good!”
They spent the next couple of minutes planning what they wanted to do after they left the cantina. They weren’t sure of the entire layout of the outpost, but hanging around a crowded marketplace had pros and cons. They might run into more stormtroopers, but they easily might go unnoticed.
Rey’s expression slowly evolved into something with uncertainty. She glanced at her drink again.
“Ib con’t freel m’tongue,” she gasped, which prompted Finn to panic as he lifted her glass and inspected it. He couldn’t smell anything unusual, but knew poison could often dissolve into liquid with a trace. If it was poison, that meant someone knew they were here and they needed to find someone who could help and fast.
A woman approached from behind them. “Don’t worry about it,” she told them.
Finn stared at her. “Huh?”
“They put a flavoring in the drink that Twi’leks love, but it makes humans experience slight numbing,” she explained. “It’s safe and should stop soon. They really ought to put a warning somewhere,” she muttered under her breath.
Rey heaved a sigh of relief.
The woman stared at Finn’s face, then glanced at Rey. They got their first good look at her. The first thing that they noticed about her was that her hair was cropped to chin length and the tips of her black hair were dyed light blue. It was becoming a more common sight to see colorful hair dyes in human hair, but it still wasn’t something people did a lot. Her skin tone was a medium brown, and it made the bright red jumpsuit she wore stand out in the crowd.
“What are you two doing here?” she sighed.
Trying to put a name to her face, Finn could not figure out if he knew this woman. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Have we met?”
She looked around the room before she ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe we should move this somewhere more private,” she told them.
The followed her to a booth closer to the entrance. It was a good spot to eavesdrop if you didn’t want to be seen by incoming cantina patrons, however, it meant they needed to keep their voices down.
“You don’t need to worry about stormtroopers coming in,” the woman explained. “Oga runs this place and she really doesn’t like troublemakers. Did you see those bouncers outside? They won’t let them in.”
Finn was puzzled. “Wouldn’t the 'troopers just force their way in?”
The woman looked pleased. “Nah, they got the message the first time they tried.” She made a gesture with her hands to make it look like she was holding a blaster.
The conversation turned serious now.
“We haven’t met properly,” the stranger said. “But I’ve seen you when I return to check-in.” She held out her hand to Finn first. “Name’s Vi.”
He took her hand firmly as Rey looked on thoughtfully. “You’re the spy,” she guessed.
Vi nodded. “And you two are our big heroes.” She said it with a joking smile. “The general didn’t say anything to me about you two coming here. Something I should know?”
Finn shrugged. “Not really.”
“Here on a favor for Hondo Ohnaka,” Rey added, grinning with relief once she realized she was speaking normally again. "We're tourists while we wait for him to bring back our ship."
Looking interested, Vi looked like she understood what was going on. “A favor, hmm? Wonder what he’s trying to smuggle out.”
The duo said nothing at first. “We thought it was better not to ask,” Rey confessed.
The three looked between each other before they all burst out laughing.
“Sounds about right,” Vi chuckled.
III.
It was dark when they left the cantina. Hondo sent them an update that he needed the Falcon for just a little longer than he originally expected, and so he set Finn and Rey up in a spare room in the hangar he kept aside for such an occasion.
Vi walked them back to make sure they were safe. “If you got time tomorrow, you might want to check out the market. There’s some cool shops around here. Good street food.”
“Are they going to charge me 420 credits for a souvenir mug?” Finn accused.
She laughed. “Most places are reasonable, but there are some places that will charge an arm and a leg for junk.”
As she was explaining some of the different slang that they would run into around the outpost, Rey suddenly stopped in her tracks. It took a moment for Finn to realize that she was no longer in step with them.
“Rey?”
Hushing him, she urged them to move closer to her. “There’s someone-" she began before Vi peeked around the corner and saw what she was sensing.
A First Order shuttle had just landed in the outpost, almost more starfighter than transport. It had the shape of a TIE and was the size of a commander’s shuttle. Finn recognized the design, but it was the first time he saw it in person. A TIE Echelon.
“We need to keep out of sight,” Vi urged as she moved them to one of the closed stalls to hide. The ramp of the shuttle hissed as it was lowered and a figure emerged.
Rey and Finn knew the man in black well and they froze in place for a moment as they watched him descend from Echelon.
Standing at attention, the officer that spoke in the market earlier waited to be addressed.
“Lieutenant,” Kylo acknowledged. His helmet repaired with red molding while his voice was back to the mechanical tone from its internal vocal manipulator.
The officer walked forward. “Supreme Leader,” he greeted. “Welcome to Batuu.”
With large steps, Kylo met the other man halfway, towering over him in height. There was nothing friendly about his stance.
“You are a poor leader,” Kylo snapped. “Have you found the Resistance spy?
Sensing his superior’s foul mood, the officer tried to quickly diffuse the situation. “Not yet sir, but we got it under control. I have sent reconnaissance troops to patrol the out-"
Gulping loudly, the man tried to find a grip on the invisible hand around his neck. Kylo held his arm out and clenched his hand in the direction of the officer.
“You have failed, Lieutenant,” he snarled. “That Resistance spy was tracked to Batuu. You were sent to find her.” He said this as if he were reminding the officer of his task. “If she is here, she may not be alone. Do you understand? The Resistance must not be allowed to regroup. If someone in this outpost knows something, we must find them.”
Then, he let go of his grip on the man. The officer heaved a breath and messaged his neck. “Sir, I will lead a team right now,” he tried.
But Kylo stopped him by pointing at him in a threatening manner. “You will await further orders,” he said as he turned around and headed to the marketplace. “’Troopers.”
A small team of stormtroopers marched down the ramp and stood behind him, waiting for orders. Kylo stepped away and headed in the market's direction. He looked around, like he was expecting to see someone as soon as he turned the corner.
When he got a full view of the area, the Resistance trio was already gone.
IV.
To their relief, the next morning the Echelon was gone and Rey could not sense Kylo anymore. They stood outside, backs a little stiff from the cramped bed they shared the night before, and breathed in the crisp morning air.
“I thought he knew I was here,” she breathed deeply. “For sure.”
Finn wasn’t sure how to respond to that as they walked out of the hangar after checking to see if the Falcon was back yet. Still out its delivery run, Hondo told them again that it would be back soon and promised it would absolutely be back in one piece. Chewbacca was growing angry and impatient, implying that he didn’t believe his beloved freighter was in capable hands after all.
It was by luck that Kylo didn’t stick around, but the First Order still had their presence here, and there was no sign of Vi anywhere. They hoped that they hadn’t found her.
“Maybe she’s lying low,” Finn suggested.
Rey didn’t look so confident. “If Kylo has her-"
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Finn tried to assure her.
“If he does, then we know why he didn’t stay here. He sensed me here, I’m certain.”
They wandered past the cantina and explored the marketplace like Vi suggested. Maybe they would run into her later, or at least, use the experience to keep their minds off things.
The first stall they came to was simple and easy to understand. Hanging from the shed roof were spherical tanks full of blue and green liquid. The blue was bantha milk, but Finn didn’t recognize the other one…
“What’s the green one?” he asked Rey, though he was certain that a girl from Jakku would know just as much as he did.
She wrinkled her nose. “Thala-Siren milk,” she answered.
He was surprised she knew that. “How’d you-?”
“We do not talk about it,” she said, almost robotic as she stared ahead of her blankly. It looked like she was trying to avoid recalling a bad memory.
Still, he didn’t quite let it drop. “Is it good?”
Suddenly, her face took on an almost hostile expression. “If you drink that, we’re not speaking again. You can’t leave me with that mental image.”
Well, that certainly wasn’t a response he would have expected from her, but he decided it was best to humor her. If looks could kill… “I’ll get us some blue milk then. You want some, right?” It was a good breakfast choice, full of protein.
She nodded. “Let me.” And she was gone for a few minutes while Finn found a spot along a low wall to sit on. When she returned, she held two glasses of the blue drink and offered him one.
It was a lot colder than he would have expected, but the milk was refreshing as the morning warmed up. Nothing could be better than sharing a drink with a good friend.
Perhaps it would be a good day this time.
V.
“Oh! Can we stop in here?”
Rey reached in front of her to tug on Finn’s hand to grab his attention. She pointed to the entrance of a shop with its doors left open to show the inside. She heard a symphony of beeps and boops coming from inside and she felt excited when she looked up to read the old sign in Arubesh that spelled out Droid Depot.
“Don’t see why not,” he said as he followed her in.
Right away, her eyes darted back and forth to all the droid parts and accessories for sale. She didn’t own a droid, though she wished R2-D2 was here. Some of his parts needed replacing and upkeep and though the R-unit insisted he wasn’t old at all, his age was making it difficult to find parts for him.
It didn’t look like this place was lacking in R-unit parts at all. There were quite a few different kinds of droids hanging around the shop, but it seemed like astromechs were the specialty. She spotted a head piece of a BB-unit rotating along a conveyor belt and it reminded her of BB-8, only with a purple paint job.
She picked the piece up. “Think BB-8 will get mad if we bought a droid?”
“If you buy one that looks like that, he’ll think we’re replacing him,” laughed Finn.
“Right,” Rey sighed as she sat it back down and picked up another part, a red cylindrical body.
Finn ran his hand through his hair. “Now, if you get another R-unit, R2’s really will think we’re replacing him.”
“I guess the droid idea will have to wait. If we need another droid on board, I’m sure the general will let us borrow one of the Resistance’s units.” She made note of everything available and decided to bring R2 back here with her sometime so he could help her pick out his own replacement parts.
A rusty older R-unit moved forward to offer help. It had a custom paint job of an orange body with teal accents and Rey thought the combination looked nice. It beeped a question at her.
“Oh, no,” she responded to him – the droid has masculine programming. “We’re just looking right now. Thank you.”
The droid replied to her sadly before it rolled away. She frowned.
“What did he say?” Finn asked. “I couldn’t really follow it.”
“He was disappointed that we weren’t going for an R-unit,” she explained. “Said everyone wants BB-units now.”
Facing reflecting hers, Rey could tell that Finn felt sympathetic for the droid. “Oh, yeah. I guess I see a lot of those.”
“R2 said something similar once. He said everyone wanted the better-looking new droids and the old R-units are finding themselves in junk yards. He’s convinced he’s next.”
Finn looked pained. “We’d never-"
“I know.” She moved over to look at the deactivated droid models sitting behind a wire mesh display. There was something that saddened her about a lifeless droid.
Standing next to her, Finn chuckled. “Free them,” he said, referencing something they heard one of Poe’s squadron say about booted X-wings on another mission not too long ago.
She giggled, though it didn’t make her feel much better. “I’d take that R-unit that wanted to help us, but I’m sure he likes his job here. He’s probably well taken care of.”
A low whine came from behind him and they turned around to see the orange and teal droid had heard them.
Rey nodded. “You’re welcome.”
After the droid helper rolled away, Finn looked to Rey for a translation.
“He said he was touched that we would want a droid like him. And we’re always welcome here.”
The corners of Finn’s mouth twitched upward into a warm smile.
As they did one last round around the shop to look at some the accessories they could buy for droids and knew they couldn’t get away with buying R2 a drink tray to roll around the Falcon with, they realized that they failed to pay attention to their surroundings.
“We need to see your identification,” a static-like voice came from behind them.
Almost frozen where they stood, the pair turned slowly around to see two stormtroopers standing near the assembly line. They waited expectantly as one of the helper droids complained in a loud stream of whines.
“Silence,” ordered one of the troopers.
The droids didn’t like this one bit. The ones with arm attachments waved them in the air as they wobbled back and forth on their base and legs. The translator droid that stood the entire time in the back of the shop, waiting to be called on, suddenly sprung to life and strode stiffly up to the stormtroopers.
“Sirs,” she started, “I must ask you to leave. Your blasters will unsettle our customers.”
One stormtrooper raised his hand to shoo her away. “We don’t take orders from droids,” he said, then he muttered to his partner, “Too bad we can’t do a personality wipe on these ones. The droids on the Aggravator actually did what their masters said.”
The orange and teal droid gripped his arm extension around the forearm of one of the ‘troopers.
“I don’t think I made it clear,” the translator droid continued. “It was not a suggestion. Leave.”
The other stormtrooper raised his blaster. “What did you- Ah!”
A BB-unit rolled into him, zapping the stormtrooper in the calf with its taser. The following blaster fire and appearance of droid parts that could be used as weapons, gave Finn and Rey a chance to sneak away.
“Think they’ll be okay?” Rey looked over her shoulder to try to see what was going on in the shop.
Finn halted in his step. “I think we need to worry about ourselves first.”
In front of them another group of stormtroopers was standing in the middle of the marketplace, looking right at them.
“Halt!” one of them commanded.
They ran for it, only Finn went in one direction and Rey went in another, both believing the other was following them.
VI.
“I think we lost them,” Rey huffed as she peered around another corner. “We’ll just need to find a place to- Finn?”
She looked around the area, even back tracked a little and when she realized Finn wasn’t nearby, she got a sinking feeling in her stomach. He must have just gotten separated from her in the chaos of being chased by the stormtroopers, she told herself. They would find each other soon. The market was big, but not so big that she wouldn't have a chance at spotting him as she walked around.
Yes, she would find him later. Maybe they would both make it back to Hondo’s hangar before they found each other in the marketplace. She would wander around the market some more and keep her eye out for him and more stormtroopers.
Rey found herself in a more open area of the marketplace. The only shop nearby was an outdoor stall that seemed to sell scrap parts from starfighters and transports. It took Rey back to a memory of a lifetime as a scavenger on Jakku and how she traded scrap like this for food. Unkar Plutt often sold valuable scrap metal to rich collectors and frequently traders would come into Niima to take large shipments from him.
She wondered if anyone on Batuu bought from him.
Largely uninterested in scrap metal, she turned around to head back into the marketplace proper, only to run into a young human boy with a small box in his arms. Startled, he dropped it to the ground and gasped.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” She crouched down to gather the box and give it back to him.
He said something to her that sounded like a thank you in a language she didn’t understand before he rushed away, entering the building that she assumed belonged to the junk shop.
There was something on the ground. She assumed it fell out of the box and reached down to pick it up. Brushing it off, she inspected the part, but she didn’t recognize it as a ship part. Perhaps it went to some machinery.
Approaching the stand, she was poised to speak to a woman at the counter, when she noticed something that made her stop. A blue flag hung against the building, old and tattered, but there was something familiar about the silver sigil printed on it. It wasn’t right – or maybe it was an older symbol – but it reminded her of the symbol she found on the old Jedi texts.
She looked back down at the round part in her hands and realized that the weathered piece of junk actually once belonged to a lightsaber. If she was right, it would have been the outer casing of a power cell.
“Excuse me,” she approached the shopkeeper. “I accidentally ran into one of your workers and I think he dropped this.” She slid the part across the counter.
The woman glanced at the part and then quickly swept it away. “Thank you. It was kind of you to return it.”
Rey waited for a moment to see if the woman would say anything more. When she was met with nothing but silence, she spoke up.
“Do you sell lightsaber parts here?” she asked.
“We sell scrap,” the shopkeeper snapped. “Just scrap.”
She felt her hopes drop. Maybe the part was for something else after all. “Oh, well. Never mind.”
“I said we sell scrap,” the woman repeated as if that clarified things. She grinned. “Perhaps we have the scrap you’re looking for.”
Confused, Rey stared at her for another moment before the shopkeeper sighed and beckoned her to come around to her side of the counter. Underneath the checkout was a couple of drawers that didn’t look like anything special. The woman slid the middle drawer out, revealing a set of cleaned parts that would make up a lightsaber.
Feeling her eyes widen, Rey tried to remain calm. She nodded. “Yes, that’s the kind of scrap I’m looking for." This was starting to feel like an illicit trade instead of just an inquiry of information. "Can you tell me about it? Maybe about repairs?” The lightsaber sat with Leia during this trip, but Rey had no idea where to start to repair it. Lightsaber parts, it turned out, were a lot different from the components of a speeder. She didn’t dare touch it until she knew what she was doing.
The woman smiled darkly and waved her hand at the door of the building. “Our gatherers will know more than me,” she hinted. “Go inside. Savi will be most interested in helping you.”
Following where the woman pointed to, Rey ventured into the old scrapyard building, wondering what she would find. The whole thing was getting sketchier by the minute.
From first glance, the only thing the building house was what she would expect. Rusted metal innards of engines, some old blasters that didn’t look like they would work again, there was even an old energy transport crate from the days of the Empire. But none of these things held much interest to her.
As she looked for sign of someone to speak to, she came to a door at the end of the long hallway. Rey knew she shouldn’t snoop around, but she moved her hand to jiggle the latch anyway and found it was open. Peering inside, she found a room with a long table that serpentined across the room. There were trays every couple of meters, making them seem more like work stations.
“Welcome,” a tall man walked into the room. He wore an apron filled with tools.
Rey looked him up and down. “Are you Savi?”
He looked at her inquisitively. “Who’s to say?”
She shrugged. “I was told he might be able to help me.”
“Only the ancients know,” the man said simply. “Depending on what it is you are seeking help on.”
“For a price, I’m sure?” Rey raised her eyebrow.
This time, he shrugged. “Depends.” He looked her up and down. “I sense you are not a normal customer. You are here with a great purpose.”
Never knowing who she could trust, Rey wasn’t sure how to answer. She needed help, but anybody at this outpost could be aligned with the First Order or might blab about her to someone else who was. It was a risk she wasn’t sure she was willing to take.
The man looked like he understood. He looked down at one of the trays at a workstation.
“Why don’t you ask me a question first, and I’ll figure out if we can help you?”
VII.
When Finn figured out Rey was no longer with him, the only thing he wanted to do was find her again. Black Spire Outpost was a bustling place, and that would make it hard for him to spot out any individual in the crowd.
He stopped moving when he was certain the stormtroopers were no longer following him. He didn’t tell Rey, but he had a small blaster hidden under his vest in case they needed one, but with how many civilians were here, he was worried that a fight would get a bystander hurt.
Looking around, he got a sense of his surroundings. There were mainly food stalls around him, but also a couple of shops that sold local crafts. Nothing particularly out of sorts. He could no longer see the red banners of the First Order hanging along the walls and he hoped that meant he would see less of their troops on the streets.
Attached to an old water tank was a set of hydrators, and though Finn wasn’t certain about how safe it was to drink out of something that looked so rusty, he was thirsty and figured it was fine to risk it. He didn’t think an area with so many travelers would keep a water tank around if it was unsafe.
The water was cold and surprisingly fresh. Finn had to pull himself away to avoid drinking too much at once. He ran his sleeve across his face to wipe away droplets that spilled along his skin.
A single green eyeball stared at him in the water tank. It blinked once, then submerged itself once again.
He fell backwards, terrified. “What is-?” He pointed at the water tank, not talking to anyone in particular.
Running his hand down his face again, Finn decided that he should always check water sources before he drank out of them.
Something in the air caught his attention. It smelled like lunch and made his stomach rumble at the thought. Grilled meat, it smelled like meat roasting over a fire.
Gravitating to the scent, he found himself in front of the open food stalls.
The first thing he noticed were the creatures hanging from meat hooks from the ceiling. He wrinkled his nose at the sight, not really enjoying to know what the creature his meal came from looked like.
The second thing he noticed was what was used to cook the meat. Finn never thought there would be another use for a podracer engine, but there it was, hanging downwards with spits of meat being roasted in its heat.
The pitmaster droid unsettled him. He had never seen a droid so skeleton-like before, but it was busy concentrating on its task to take notice of Finn’s staring.
Finn glanced at the counter and read off the menu. He didn’t know what kind of creature a ronto was, but it sure looked good to eat. It was a small menu with the only offerings being a wrap containing a sausage being cooked on the spits or jerky that came in sweet or spicy flavors.
His stomach gurgled again. It wouldn’t hurt his wallet to stop for lunch here.
“Can I get a Ronto Wrap?” he asked the four-eyed, tusked man standing at the order counter.
He nodded. “Anything to drink?”
Anything would be better that water coming from that tank, he thought as he scanned the menu. “None of these have alcohol in them, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay then, how ‘bout a Sour Sarlacc.” The other drinks sounded good, but Finn wanted to laugh at the name of this one.
The total ran to 183 credits, which was far more reasonable than any drink that came out of that cantina from the night before. That was still a bit higher than what he would expect for a wrap and a drink, but Finn was figuring out that prices here were a lot higher than they usually were in the Outer Rim. Perhaps the locals knew they could squeeze a bit more credits out of travelers and tourists.
He was given his wrap and drink promptly and sat down at a nearby table in what looked to be a collective sitting area. The drink was a dusty pink in color and for some reason he had been expecting green.
Taking a bite from the wrap first, he got a taste of yeasty bread and the sausage inside. It was delicious, but he had no idea how to describe it. Another bite gave him a bit of the slaw that had been stuffed along with the meat. He thought the sausage was a little too thin for the size of the wrap, but it was still wonderful.
A taste of the drink gave him a kick of citrus with something tropical and spicy. It worked well with the wrap.
His stomach tightened again when he saw another pair of stormtroopers enter the area.
“Commander wants us to keep an eye out for that ship,” one was being conversational with his partner.
“The Millennium Falcon?” asked the other. “Looks like a pile of junk from the holo.”
The first stormtrooper shrugged. “Still, if we spot it, we might get a promotion out of it.”
They didn’t seem to notice Finn eating at the table, and that brought him some relief. They were too busy wrapped up in their own thoughts.
“Wait,” said one of the stormtroopers and Finn braced himself. They turned to two human women looking down at a datapad and approached them. “We have been informed that you might be aligned with the Resistance. Is this true?”
They almost certainly did not have that information and were just heckling the visitors, but even so, Finn watched to make sure he didn’t need to step in.
One woman shook her head.
“Well then,” the other stormtrooper started. “Have a good day!”
The brightness of the ‘troopers voice had Finn taken aback as he watched them walk away. The two women looked at each other confused, then shrugged and went back to what they were doing.
Never in his time in the First Order had Finn seen stormtroopers act so… casually. No further questions, no random arrests. They just walked away.
He watched them do the same to another group of travelers. Heckle them, then walk away without further questioning. Some even got a laugh out of the encounter.
The entire scenario baffled Finn as he quietly nibbled at his lunch.
VIII.
The first thing he noticed in the antiques dealer were the unsettling collection of creature heads. Stuffed and still with unseeing dead eyes, Finn wondered why anyone would want something as useless and eerie as the head of a tauntaun.
He found the shop on accident while he was wandering the marketplace and looking for Rey. It was a passing curiosity, really, because he had never seen so many odd knick-knacks and art pieces like this before.
And really, that’s what almost all of this stuff was, but Finn supposed that beauty was in the eye of the beholder. There was a wall full of glowing cubes and pyramids, labeled to be real Jedi and Sith holocrons (he seriously doubted that was true), small cases that held random kyber crystals that he also doubted were the real thing, and then just a lot of other junk he would expect to see at an antique shop.
The owner of the shop, an Ithorian, watched Finn intently as he browsed. Some of the other shoppers whispered rumors of how he got some of these things, believing the Jedi and Sith artifacts to be the real deal. What most of them talked about, however, was how shrewd Dok Ondar was when it came to price.
All the Imperial relics Finn believed were real though. An artist’s rendition of Admiral Thrawn, a tin filled with credits for worlds that didn’t have the tech to run credit sticks, old banners that had seen better days. These were certainly real, and there were plenty of collectors out in the galaxy that would pay a nice price for them.
He was a little creeped out by the collection of clothes and jewelry advertised as being owned and worn by General Organa herself. It was all clothing of a younger woman, but there was no way anyone could have gotten a hold of the Princess of Alderaan’s clothes.
“Where’d you get these?” he finally asked the Ithorian.
The shopkeeper spoke into a machine that translated for him. “I have my ways,” he replied.
“You couldn’t have just raided her closet,” Finn snarked.
The Ithorian made a breathy chuckle. “No, some of those things belonged to her mother. They were dropped in space on accident, and well, I’m not even going to let gravity get in the way of a good sale.”
Finn thought he would bring it up to the general when he returned to base. He wasn’t sure if it was something she would do anything about, but it would be good for her to know. To some people, family heirlooms were priceless treasures and he could bet that anything owned by the Princess of Alderaan was a real treasure to the world’s homeless survivors.
Something in the cases towards the front of the shop caught Finn’s eye, and he moved to the glass display counters. Polished metal cylinders gleamed under the dim light of the store.
“Okay, there is no way you’re gonna convince me that’s a real lightsaber.” Finn was exasperated.
Dok Ondar laughed again. “Temple guards were many; it’s easy to find their weapons if you know where to look.”
Finn stared at him, doubtful.
“I’ll let you try it out for yourself, for a price of course.”
“Of course,” Finn mumbled. He stared down at the lightsaber nestled nicely in a display box and noted that it seemed longer than Rey’s lightsaber. Interestingly, it petaled out on both ends, making it hard for him to tell which way the blade would have extended from when activated.
He would tell Rey about this to see what she had to say, when he found her, that was.
IX.
After wandering around the outpost for a few hours, Rey’s stomach began to rumble. She could ignore it easily after a lifetime of always being halfway to starvation any given moment, but if she didn’t have to, she’d rather she didn’t.
She stood on a slight incline in the pavement, leading up a slope of shops and food stalls. Looking around, she wondered what might be good.
At the top of the slope it looked like a shipping dock was situated, but it didn’t have all the usual gear a docking bay in use would have. All she could see was a sign saying Docking Bay 7 painted in bright yellow letters. A few civilians were walking up that way, causing Rey to figure out it wasn’t just a shipping port anymore.
Wandering up to check it out herself, she quickly realized that the shipping port had been repurposed to be a restaurant and a popular one. Fresh food set aside for preparation was left out on display for guests to see. Aquatic creatures with meaty bodies lay on crates full of ice or hung from meat hooks. Shipping containers had been made into sitting spaces, booths for families or a place to have a little more privacy. Most of the restaurant had open seating with bar stools and chairs set around a hodgepodge of mismatched tables.
It looked like casual counter service, which allowed her to feel a little more comfortable to walk up to the menu and look. Prices were decent and it looked like the food would be too.
“Bright suns,” the human man at the register greeted.
“Uh… Bright suns,” she replied, still not accustomed to the local slang.
He waited. “What’ll it be?”
Rey still had no idea what half the food on the menu was. “What’s kefta?”
“A plant-based meal. Sometimes used as a meat substitute. It’s very tasty.”
It sounded good, and plants tended to settle with her stomach better than meat still. “Can I get an order of the Felucian Garden Spread?”
The cashier rang up the order and took her credit stick before handing her a number on a card. “Set it on the table you sit at. We’ll find you.”
It was only a few minutes after she selected a table in a secluded corner that a droid fitted with trays rolled up to her and lifted a plate with its arm attachments. The plate included a flatbread sandwich, with the rounded kefta balls and crushed seasonable vegetables poured over it.
She thanked the droid before she took her first bite and had to keep herself from making a rude sound out loud.
It was delicious.
X.
Still no sign of Rey.
Finn was growing worried as he wandered around the market some more. Hondo still hadn’t notified them that the Falcon was back and waiting for them, but the First Order wasn’t bragging that they had captured the last Jedi either. He could conclude, to his relief, that meant Rey was probably safe and looking for him too.
He was getting to the end of the area and looked around with curiosity. There was a stand selling some kind of treat that smelled warm and buttery, prepared in kettles until each piece made a tell-tale popping sound to signal it was ready. Finn didn’t know what it was called, but he wondered what the pieces tasted like before the owner dusted a mix of colorful powdered – pinks, reds, and purples – over the food.
Even though Finn wasn’t interested in eating at the moment, he noted that the children seemed to love the treat.
Wandering a little further down the line of shops, he came across another open store and stopped as he heard a symphony of squeals, chirps, and hisses. Inside were a collection of containers lined up along the walls, and inside those containers were an array of exotic creatures.
The very first container was probably sat out in the front for a good reason. When he peered inside, Finn couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he looked at an adorably sleepy Loth cat purring contently as it curled up with a blanket and toy. He’d take it home with him in a heartbeat if home wasn’t currently a Resistance base or whatever method of transportation he happened to be sleeping on for a few nights en-route.
He looked at a few other containers and found creatures big and small from all sorts of worlds, even the familiar porg that looked up at him with watery, frightened eyes. Finn felt sorry for it, but wondered if it would be worth the effort to move more of the little avians back to Ahch-To. They left disgusting messes back on the Falcon after Crait, prompting the general to ban the critters from being free to roam around spacecraft and bases until a better place for them was found.
Then he found creatures he wouldn’t consider pets. Mynocks and their fuel-syphoning mouths, six-legged miniature krykna, and, as silly as it was, a worrt puffing up its body with air to appear bigger in hopes of scaring off preditors.
In a low-sitting wooden crate, Finn noticed the lid had been removed, allowing shoppers to look inside. With a small, round plump body and eyes set far apart, the puffer piglet scurried around its pen, occasionally stopping to drink from a bowl set aside for it.
He crouched down to watch it, smiling at how cute it was. Curiously, the piglet glanced at him before coming closer to the crate’s edge, using the wooden side as leverage to help it stand on its hind legs to get a better look.
“Hi little guy.” Finn reached in and let the piglet sniff his hand before gently moving his hand to stroke its neck. Its skin was lined lightly with thick, wire hair, but it snorted in delight at his touch.
For another minute, he sat there and patted the piglet, content to sit in the shop's quiet atmosphere. He didn’t notice the stormtroopers enter the area until he heard them talking to another customer.
“We have been informed there might be some Resistance spies on Batuu,” one began, startling Finn. “Do you know anything about this?”
Thinking quickly, though not exactly quickly, Finn dove to crouch behind a bunch of boxes and container. He counted two stormtroopers, understanding that pairs were a standard for patrols here. He couldn’t stay here. Not if he didn’t want to be caught.
Blindly, he reached his hand through the boxes of crates, hoping to find something that could be used like a weapon. “C’mon,” he whispered.
“Halt,” the stormtooper addressed him. “Stand up. I have a few questions for you.”
Finn gulped as he stood up and looked the stormtrooper in the eyes of his helmet. He might be able to slip away undetected if he played it cool. “Yes, sir?” he asked.
“I’ve got a few questions for you,” the stormtrooper growled. “We’re looking for a Resistance spy. Have you-?”
Something tapped lightly up Finn’s arm, covered by the material of his long-sleeved shirt. Instinctively, he looked down to see three small ice-silver krykna crawling up the line of his arm.
He blinked once, then flailed his arm upward with a startled scream.
“What the-?”
The force of Finn’s movements sent the arthropodic creatures flying through the air, directly onto the matte white helmet of the stormtrooper.
It took a moment for the stormtrooper to register what happened as he raised his gloved hand up to one of the spider. Then, he let out a shrill scream himself as he began to run around the shop hysterically, trying to shake off the arachnids. His partner approached to see what the commotion was and backed away from a krykna that dropped to the floor at his feet, right into a few creature cages.
Unfortunately, the cage he backed into contained a very grumpy Loth Cat who wasn’t happy that her nap was disrupted.
The yelp and growl of the Loth Cat grabbed Finn’s attention, and he turned around to see the stormtrooper trying to pull his hand out of the gaps in the wire cage. The critter bit down on his hand, scratching the underside of his wrist where the armor didn’t cover and protect.
He might have felt bad for the stormtroopers if he wasn’t trying to get away from them.
Behind him, the puffer piglet snorted, trying to get his attention. He crouched down at the pen for a short moment.
“Sorry, buddy,” he said, patting the piglet on the head gently. “If I have time, I’ll stop by and visit you later.”
The piglet snorted and tried to reach its short legs higher up the crate’s sides. It hopped, like it was hoping to jump out.
Finn turned away and checked to make sure the stormtroopers were still occupied before he ducked out of the shop.
One last yelp made him look behind his back to see a stormtrooper groaning on the floor and the piglet scurrying past him. It ran up and nudged Finn’s leg before it scurried off into the marketplace. He hoped the piglet would be okay and either make it back to the shop later or find a home with someone that would take good care of it.
He moved farther away from the creature stall and into another open stall crowded with children. Looking around, he realized quickly that this was a toy shop and everything was hand-crafted by locals.
The kids looked like they were enjoying themselves. Some of them tugged on their parents’ clothes to get their attention, holding wooden stormtrooper dolls that made Finn wonder if the troops stationed at the outpost frightened them or fascinated them. He found toy instruments that actually worked, wooden sticks that were painted to look like lightsabers (he thought Rey might get a kick out of that), and even hand-carved dejarik sets.
But when he stood in the back of the shop, he noticed a shelve lined with handmade dolls and stopped when he saw a pair sitting side by side. He scooped them up and inspected them and the felt details they were patched with.
Not really thinking about the cost, he took the dolls up to the register.
XI.
Still no sign of Finn.
Rey wandered farther away from the outpost, wondering if he came out to the quiet outskirts of the market to try to hide. She hadn’t seen stormtroopers venture out this way.
It was peaceful out here and the locals seemed to know this was a good spot to get away from the hustle and bustle. Vi even said she had hidden her A-wing out here while she was based on Batuu.
Speaking of which, she hadn’t run into Vi all day either.
She worried her lips with her teeth, wondering if Vi had been captured by the First Order after all. If that were true, could Finn be in danger too?
Maybe she should head back to Hondo’s…
As she sat against an old, crumbling stone wall and thought about what to do, she barely noticed a group of curious eyes watching her.
“Are you lost?” A little girl wearing a beige dress, styled in a way that reminded Rey of her own clothes from Jakku. She looked up at Rey with large eyes.
Rey shook her head. “I’m not, but I’m looking for someone.”
“Oh.” The little girl blinked. “What do they look like?”
With a smile, Rey described Finn the best she could in a way the child could understand. She tried to describe his overall look and the clothes she saw him in last.
“I haven’t seen him,” the girl said apologetically, then her eyes widened as if she had an idea. “Wait here.”
She trotted away from the spot Rey was sitting in, backing behind a bush. “Hey,” she whispered.
Two more children scooted out from behind the bushes. One was about the same age as the girl, wearing an orange flight suit and looking very much like a tiny Poe Dameron. The other looked like he could be the girl’s younger brother, clutching a Wookiee doll close to him.
The girl talked to them briefly, before she grabbed the youngest one by the hand and dragged him over. “He says he saw your friend.”
Rey crouched down to be more at the boy’s level. “Really? Where?”
The boy pointed back to the marketplace. “At the toy stall. Where I got this.” He lifted the doll up to show her.
“He’s a handsome guy.” Rey smiled. “Reminds me of someone I know.”
The boy’s eyes sparkled. “Really?”
She nodded. “A good friend of mine.”
Not wanting to be left out, the other boy in the pilot costume ran up to his friends. Rey stayed crouched down as she greeted him.
“Are you a pilot?” she asked the boy.
He nodded and Rey smiled over how much he reminded him of her when she was that same age. She thought back to her home on Jakku, the overturned AT-AT and wondered if the desert sands had already reclaimed the old pilot's helmet she used to play with.
“Want to help me practice flying?” she suggested.
The boy nodded again.
She stood up. “Okay then.” She held out her left arm. “First there’s a lever to push you into lightspeed.” Rey pretended to pull on an invisible stick.
The boy watched her, not sure what she was doing.
She held her other hand out and front of her, like she was gripping the invisible yolk of the Falcon. “Then there’s a steering mechanism. And we can move it: left, right, up down.” She moved her arms to show him. “Are you ready to fly?”
He nodded.
Rey smiled. “All right. At the ready, hands on the steering wheel.”
Mimicking how her arms were positioned, the boy followed her lead. The other two children now watched, interested.
“Left,” she announced moving her arms in that direction. “Down.”
The boy tried to mirror her. The other children held their arms out, captivated.
“Up. Right. Left. Down.” The whole game was her shouting out random directions until someone fell off course. She came up with it when she was a child, teaching it to other kids when she encountered them.
“Up. Down. Right.” When the kids began to miss directions, she called out a new instruction. “Full speed ahead. Lightspeed. Punch it!”
Losing sight of what he was supposed to do, the boy in the pilot suit halted, his hands clenched together. The other two children giggled.
“Well, good job anyway,” Rey praised. “I think you’re ready to start flying now.”
The kids asked her to play one more round with them and the older boy with the Wookiee toy was the only one that didn’t mess up. Looking up at a nearby chronometer, Rey realized that it was early evening and thought she should probably think about getting back to Hondo’s hangar.
“Do you know that shipping hangar on the other side of the marketplace?” she asked the kids.
This time, the boy with the Wookie doll spoke up. “Hondo’s?”
She nodded. “That’s the one. I’m trying to get back, but I’m worried the stormtroopers might give me some trouble.”
“Are they bothering you?” the girl asked.
Rey wasn’t sure how much to say. “They didn’t like how I answered a question, so I had to run away for a little while.”
“We don't like the stormtroopers here,” the girl replied. “They cause trouble.”
“Do you know a way back to the hangar that might keep me out of their sight?”
The girl nodded. “Yeah, we know a few shortcuts.”
“Can you tell me?” Rey’d rather go off on her own. She didn’t want to get the kids involved with the First Order if she could help it.
She waited as the children tried to explain where she was supposed to go, but found that their direction giving skills needed some work. With a sigh, she realized that they would have to lead her there.
“If you see stormtroopers, tell me. Quietly,” she added. “And if they spot us, run.”
The kids stuck close with her as they led her through their shortcut through the marketplace. They knew the back alleys well and did not come across any stormtroopers until they made it back to area covered with First Order banners.
The group looked around a corner, into the market. “Okay,” whispered Rey. “Wait for my signal.”
A group of stormtroopers walked passed them. Once she was sure they were not going to turn around, Rey walked swiftly in a crouch and hid behind a trash can. Looking over at the kids, she waved to them to come to her.
They sprinted to her side and crouched around her. The boy in the pilot suit was on the lookout. “They’re coming back,” he warned.
The stormtroopers made a turn around to go back and patrol the other end of the market. It looked like they would be safe and go unnoticed until one trooper at the tail end of the line halted in place and stared at the trash can. Another one of his comrades noticed something too, and pointed.
“What the-?”
The other stormtrooper began to approach. “Who’s there?”
The kids started to panic. Rey hushed them and brought them closer to her.
“We know you’re there behind the trash can, hair buns,” accused the stormtrooper. “Come out.”
Heart almost stopping in her chest, Rey reached up to pat her top hair bun and realized that it had been sticking out atop the trash can where the stormtroopers could see it.
XII.
Finn headed back to the hangar to see if Rey was waiting for him there. He had been up and down the marketplace already and he had no reason to believe that she was wandering around hoping to run into him.
He realized he might have spoken too soon when he spotted her on the run from a whole group of stormtroopers, a gaggle of children at her heels.
They needed help, and Finn couldn’t stand by and do nothing. He gave chase.
Quickly, he realized that he also needed to keep himself out of the sight of the stormtroopers if he wanted to get Rey and the children away from the First Order. He looked around, looking for a way that would help him get to where they were likely heading without being seen. The problem was that even though he had been up and down the marketplace, he didn’t know the streets or the back alleys well.
“Hey!” a voice called out to him. “What trouble are you two getting into this time?”
Vi Moradi, safe from the First Order and looking like a sight for sore eyes, crept in behind him.
“Vi! You’re okay!”
She grinned. “Of course. Did you think the First Order would catch me that easily?”
“They might catch Rey if we don’t help her.” Finn hoped he didn’t sound rude, but the situation was kind of urgent.
Vi kept smiling and patted him on the back. “Don’t worry. We won’t let them get caught. Leave it to me.”
()---()---()
Rey led the kids as far away from the stormtroopers as she could, trying to weave their way in and out of side streets in hopes they would lose them.
“There’s a junkyard up ahead,” the boy with the Wookiee doll told her.
“Savi’s?” Maybe the Gatherers would be willing to hide them for a while.
He shook his head. “No, just a junkyard. Got some old speeders and droids. We can hide there.”
It was as good of an idea as any. Rey let him lead the way.
When the boy said junkyard, he really meant junkyard. If this was Jakku, it would have been a treasure trove of old parts and intact, but not working, starfighters. They squeezed their way into a garage, Rey warning the kids to be careful not to hurt themselves. There were a lot of sharp edges on the scrap metal and tools lying around on the floor. It was the perfect place to hide.
The stormtroopers realized this too, it seemed, as they surrounded the junkyard.
“Bet they went in here,” one of them commented.
Finn was right, the First Order had worked on fixing the bugs of the Imperial stormtrooper program. These soldiers were at least somewhat competent. Too bad for them.
“Psst.” At first, Rey thought one of the kids were talking to her. She looked around confused. “Rey.”
Crawling from behind an ancient speeder that reminded Rey a little of her own that she left on Jakku, Vi Moradi gestured for them to get closer.
“Vi,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”
“Finn’s looking for you. We saw you were in trouble.”
Rey’s eyes widened as her heart felt like it expanded with relief. “Where is he?”
“Outside.” Pointing at a door to the back of the garage. “That’ll take you around back to an alley. There shouldn’t be any stormtroopers there.”
Nodding, Rey looked at the kids. “You ready to run?”
The stormtroopers were drawing closer to the garage. They could hear their footsteps.
“Go!” Vi ordered as she began to run up a durasteel staircase to go outside to the roof of the garage. “Don’t worry, I’ll distract them. Stay under cover where you’ll be safe!”
A blast hit against the side of the roof as Vi vanished outside.
The children were visibly shaking and Rey tried her best to calm them down. She gathered them up close to her. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Vi needs us to leave, so we’re gonna help her, all right?”
Another blast rattled against the garage. Rey stood up and the children followed.
“Halt, Resistance scum.” They heard a stormtrooper above them as they left the building and entered another unfamiliar street. Rey glanced up quickly and realized that they hadn’t been spotted; the stormtrooper was talking to Vi.
Rey moved the kids away from the scene as quickly as she could. When the coast was clear, she moved them to the side and looked at them seriously. “You three need to get home,” she said. “I don’t want to put you in any more danger.”
The kids tried to put on a brave face.
“We can handle them,” the girl huffed.
With a smile, Rey took her hand. “I know you can, but this is something the adults need to do. Your families are probably worried about you.”
Their faces fell. “Oh right, it’s getting late.” The boy in the pilot suit seemed to suddenly forget about all the excitement. “My dads will be mad if I don’t get home soon.”
They all seemed to decide it was for the best to go, which is what Rey really wanted. Children with parents that loved them should be at home, she thought. “Thanks for all your help,” she told them.
“Will you visit again?” the boy with the Wookiee doll asked.
She nodded. “I’m sure we’ll meet again someday.”
As the children scurried off, Rey felt a satisfaction within herself that they would now be safe. She gripped her quarterstaff in her hands and looked back to the garage. She hadn’t heard blasts go off for a few minutes, so maybe Vi was fine.
Just as she was about to go back to help, someone tapped her on the shoulder. Startled, Rey twisted around and pointed her quarterstaff at her offender, ready to strike.
“Woah!” Finn stared at her, wide-eyed and ready to duck. Next to him, Chewbacca held still.
Clutching at her chest, Rey breathed in deeply. “Oh, Finn, Chewie. I’m glad to see you.”
“You okay?” Finn asked, he looked concerned. “Where are those kids I saw you with?”
“They’re safe,” she assured him. “But Vi-"
Chewbacca placed a firm paw on her shoulder and growled that he would take care of it. Bowcaster in hand, he moved to go up the rail along the side of the garage. They heard more shots fired before a victorious roar from a Wookiee echoed down the street.
Moments later, Vi and Chewie returned. “Glad you could make it,” laughed Vi. “Was starting to think I would have all the fun myself.”
Nodding, Chewbacca growled something before looking and pointing at Finn and Rey. "[The Falcon’s ready.]"
Finn almost looked disappointed. “I was hoping to spend more time with you here…”
Understanding the sentiment, Rey frowned. “I know. Me too.” Then she got an idea. “I might have to come back here with R2 sometime,” she began. “If you want to, I’ll bring you back and we’ll spend the day together… Hopefully without any excitement.” She grinned.
“That would be nice,” he agreed as the group began to walk back to the hangar.
A few moments into their walk, Rey looked over at Finn. "Where did you go off to? I was worried."
"That makes two of us," he replied. "I wandered around that market for hours!"
"I've got so much to tell you!"
"Maybe talk later, when we can't get spotted by stormtroopers?" Vi suggested, looking a little on edge.
The pair looked sheepish as they continued on the path back to Hondo's.
()---()---()
Arriving back at the hangar, the four friends almost breathed an auditory sigh of relief. The stormtroopers weren't likely to come here, and they were pretty sure they hadn't been followed or spotted.
At least, they were relieved until they saw the state of the Millennium Falcon.
"What did you do to her, Hondo!?"
"I thought you were just going to drop off merchandise!?"
"RRWWWGG!"
Chewbacca cornered the Weequay, who held his hands up as if in surrender. "Now, now, Chewbacca, it's not as bad as it looks."
Right as he said that, a panel fell off the side of the freighter, revealing wires sparking with electricity.
"Okay, it's worse."
Finn wanted to pull his hair, if it weren't for it still too short for him to do that. He watched Rey approach the Falcon, taking in all the damage and trying not to inhale too much smoke in the process. She looked like she was about to cry. Parts of the hull were scratched, with bent metal and missing panels that revealed charred, damaged, or missing internal components. A small team of Hondo's crew was already working on repairs. The freighter wasn't in any shape to be used any time soon.
Hondo listed off all the damage. "Engine failure, hyper drive fuel leak..."
Chewbacca grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. ["We need to leave!"] he told him.
"Relax, I've got the best repair crew in the Outer Rim! We'll have the Falcon patched up in no time."
"If best means, group of kids he just recruited off the streets," Vi mumbled.
Rey was horrified. "I'm not going to let them screw this up!" she vowed, moving in to grab a wrench from a nearby tool kit. She went over to help the crew, giving orders and helping them understand the particularities of the freighter and how it worked. Chewbacca also joined in, knowing all the modifications even better than Rey.
"How long do you think you need?" Vi asked.
Rey wiped her brow, obviously overwhelmed. "If we just patch it together enough to get it off the ground and back to base, a few hours, provided Hondo has all the parts we need." She looked over at him pointedly.
"Of course we do!" said Hondo. "We wouldn't be the best transport company in the Outer Rim if we weren't always prepared!"
Vi rolled her eyes.
()---()---()
Just short of five hours later (Finn and Vi were growing anxious by then), Rey and Chewbacca had the Corellian Freighter patched up enough to make the journey back to the Resistance. The First Order hadn't come this way yet, but with all the commotion in the market, they were bound to turn up. Vi advised them to get away as quickly as they could.
True to his word, Hondo's crew gathered up crates of cargo for the Resistance to take back with them. Supplies to treat injuries mainly, but there were a few weapons and... oddities.
"Wookiee Cookies?" Finn threw his hands up. "All that, for Wookiee Cookies!?"
Chewbacca growled in warning, satisfied with this turn of events. It certainly benefited him and made up a little for all that happened to his ship.
Vi laughed patting the Wookiee on the back. "We'll be sure to get you more, big guy."
Finn and Rey did one last check on the supplies together, wanting to make sure they weren't forgetting anything.
"I didn't bring much," said Rey, "but I got my credit stick and everything else I brought with me."
Looking through his bag, Finn agreed. "Yeah, not much here either."
Something in it caught her eye. "What's that?" She pointed.
He pulled out what she was looking at. "Oh, I almost forgot about these." Lifting a small felt doll out of his bag, he handed it to her before he dug around for the other one. "I found these in the market. Don't you think they kinda look like us?"
Holding the doll in her hands, Rey rotated it around slowly. "He looks like you when you still had your jacket," she mused. "He's cute."
"And this one?" Finn held up the other one. "I think she looks like you. Look, she even has the same outfit."
Rey would have to admit that the resemblance was uncanny. From the three hair buns down to the boots on her feet, the doll almost matched her in fashion and features. She wondered if the outfit she adopted back on Ahch-To was more common than she thought, but then, when she looked at the doll in her hands, it looked too much like Finn to be coincidental. Flight jackets with the same patterns and stripes were not that common of a sight. How could a toy maker create something that looked so much like them?
She had some explanations to answer this question, but each one creeped her out more than the last. It would probably be better to not think about it until she could come back to Batuu and meet this shop owner herself.
"I know you just bought them," she told Finn, "but can I hold on to this one for a while?"
He grinned. "So you do see the resemblance."
Lightly, Rey pushed her shoulder against his. "Finn-doll is staying with me for now."
"Fine, and Rey-doll gets to stay with me."
Both of them laughed as they made the dolls headbutt each other.
()---()---()
After doing one last pre-flight check, Rey and Chewbacca deemed the Millennium Falcon safe enough to fly. Everything was packed up and the Resistance sent a new set of coordinates for the team to meet them.
Rey and Finn stood outside the freighter one more time before they left. Sometimes, the thing they hated the most was goodbyes.
"Thanks for all your help, Vi." Rey began, reaching to shake her hand. Instead, Vi pulled her into a hug.
After she let her go, Vi did the same to Finn. "Any time you guys need some info, feel free to comm me. Maybe I'll see you on base soon."
"Be safe," Finn wished her.
She laughed. "Don't worry about me. First Order is more interested in you." Vi patted him on the back. "I'll see you around Finn."
Watching as Finn and Rey boarded the freighter, Hondo moved to stand beside Vi. They waved before the ramp closed and moved a little father away to give them room as they took off.
"We've got a lot to talk about," Vi warned him.
He looked at her, trying to feign obliviousness. "About what?"
She grinned at him. "Don't think I didn't see those weapons in the crates, old man. You got the Resistance more than just a few snacks."
Laughing, the owner of Ohnaka Transport Solutions waved again as the Millennium Falcon began to lift off the ground. "I wouldn't expect I could hide that from a spy, but if you want to know if there's more from where that came from..."
"Oh," Vi said slyly. "I do."
()---()---()
Inside the Falcon, Finn was busy making sure everything was still secure in the cargo area. He didn't think the crates would move around too much with how they tied them down before taking off, but it was of utmost importance that the Resistance get everything in one piece.
Content with the outcome of the task, he went back to the living space of the freighter. Rey was busy helping Chewbacca with the first leg of the flight until they could set the controls to autopilot. She'd be able to wander around in a few minutes.
The Finn doll sat neatly on the cushions of the booth in the center of the living area; Rey's bag and quarterstaff on the floor below it. She must have sat them down in haste to pilot.
Finn smiled at the doll and pulled his own out of his bag, sitting the Rey doll next to its partner. Then, he went to find a way to make himself useful again.
XIII. Bonus ending
Stomping through the streets, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was in a mood.
His troops had found Rey and her friend, the traitor FN-2187, Han Solo's savage Wookiee partner, and the Resistance spy, and they failed to capture any of them. He thought he had sensed the girl the day before, but he also believed he was just jumping to conclusions. Kylo was so eager to rid the galaxy of the last Jedi that his instincts were playing tricks on him.
No more. Those stormtroopers and their leader were sent straight to reconditioning, lest their presence anger the Supreme Leader further. This time, he brought his own troops with him.
He wandered the streets, searching through the faces struck with fear the moment they glanced him. Many tried to move away to the other side of the street, others ducked into alleys and shops. Those loyal to the First Order bowed politely to their superior.
"Halt." He raised his hand to stop his troops. Then he pointed at a man in the crowd.
The 'trooper to his left understood. "Yes sir!" He approached the man. "You must be important. Supreme Leader wants to see you."
Holding a datapad up to record the encounter, an obvious traveler stared blankly at the leader of the First Order. He approached Kylo, still recording.
"Who are you transmitting to?" Kylo demanded. "A Resistance spy?"
The man said nothing, prompting the stressed reactions of the stormtroopers.
"Oh no," said one.
"Extract the logs from that datapad," ordered Kylo, "then wipe the memory."
The traveler gave the Supreme Leader a dirty look.
"Yes sir," replied the stormtrooper. "I'll ask... someone to do that." He didn't sound like he was sure who to go to.
That wasn't the answer Kylo wanted. "Wipe the device," he demanded, moving into the stormtrooper's space. "Or I'll wipe every thought from your head."
The 'trooper was almost visibly shaken. "I'm sorry, sir. We will do that right away."
The other of Kylo's escorts grabbed the datapad away from the tourist and handed it to his partner. Tilting his head, slightly confused, the stormtrooper went through the settings of the device until he found a factory reset option and handed it back to the traveler.
"Hope you have a good day," he said, exasperated.
Kylo continued his path through the crowd, searching, seething with anger. The next person to annoy him might just end up on the wrong end of his lightsaber. Everyone around seemed to sense this and tried to keep out of his direct path.
A tiny voice spoke up out of the crowd:
"Hi, Kylo Ren."
The Supreme Leader stalked through the street until he came upon a small girl and two boys staying close to her. Her stance, proud and strong for someone so small, told Kylo that she was the leader of her own band of friends.
"Step aside," one of his guards commanded, but he held his hand up to stop them as he approached the children.
The girl stared straight at him, along with the boy in the pilot's costume beside her. Their other friend, a boy who was far younger, stood behind them, obviously scared.
"Interesting," Kylo mused. "You are not afraid of me."
The pair stayed silent but stood tall as the man in black circled them.
"Such bravery. The First Order could always use the loyalty of those possessing such strength." He saw a flash of defiance in the girl's eyes. Anger, a flicker of rebellion. It reminded him so much of the scavenger girl when he first learned of the fire in her heart and the power flowing through her veins in the interrogation chamber. Knowing how to intimidate adults far larger than her, Kylo moved his face so it was directly above her.
"You champion a lost cause," he told her. "That must feel so hopeless."
The child said nothing, but there was still that defiant look in her eyes, even as her friend's resolve was wavering. How he hated such disdain for authority. Children like this would be taught manners when the First Order had total control. Kylo's anger flared under his helmet.
"Move. Aside."
He strode past them without looking back, walking into the area of the marketplace designated as a prime spot for First Order recruitment. When the gates around the troop lodgings was closed and no one outside could see, he ignited his lightsaber and struck against the stone of the old structure exterior.
Streaks of plasma and stone chipped away, lighting the darkened area in red. All the stormtroopers in the area backed away, knowing better than to fuel the wrath of the Supreme Leader when he didn't get his way.
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
How To Deal With Cops At Burning Man: 2018 Edition
How to deal with cops at Burning Man (2018 update) by Mark Atwood
* Do not consent to a search.
Never consent to a search. Say the phrase “I do not consent to a search.”
The cops are trained to make you flustered and to “take command” of the situation. Or they can be “polite”: “Mind if we take a look around?” Yes, you mind. “I do not consent to a search.”
Even if you have nothing for them to find, always say “I do not consent to a search.”
Never consent to a search of your body, of your clothing, of your possessions, of your car, of your truck, of your trailer, of your RV, of your tent, or of your camp. Never consent to the search of anyone else’s property.
They can ask the other people in your group or in your car, not just the driver or leader. “Mind if we take a look?” You should all sing the same song: “I do not consent to a search.”
Even if they threaten you with arrest or if threaten to bring a sniffing dog, continue to say “I do not consent to a search”. Even while they are searching you or your stuff, continue to say it. “I do not consent to a search”.
They may search you anyway. Once they start, they will trash all your stuff and dump it out on the playa. Do not give them consent once they start. They will not be more gentle with your stuff if you give them consent.
* Being Questioned.
Cops can ask you questions.
They may say things like “We’re just talking”, or “What do you think of …?”, or “Can you help us out?”
You do not have to answer their questions, and you probably shouldn’t.
They can ask you where your camp is, and who you are camping with. You don’t have to tell them, and you probably shouldn’t.
* Recreational drugs.
Never answer any questions about recreational drugs.
Remember, you never take drugs, you never carry drugs, you never supply drugs, you have no idea where to get drugs, you do not want any drugs, and you do not know anyone who does.
That includes cannabis in any form, in any amount. Cannabis is still not legal on BLM land, even for medical use. Having a medical card from any state is not a defense. The Nevada personal use possession law is not a defense.
If you have a legal prescription to a Schedule II drug such as Adderall, Ritalin, OxyContin, or Methadone, keep your pills in their correct prescription bottle and locked somewhere safe. If you need to carry any such prescription drugs with you, ask your pharmacist for a small bottle to keep just one day’s supply in, and keep that in your pocket. You can be charged if you cannot prove you have a legal prescription.
If the cops ask you details about your prescription, you do not have to answer them, and you probably shouldn’t. The only things they are lawfully allowed to ask will be printed on the prescription bottle.
* Do not lead them to your camp.
They may try to make you lead them to your camp.
They can be very commanding and matter of fact about it. They may say “We are going to your camp.” They will make it sound as if you have no choice. You do have a choice, and you are going to chose to not to lead them to your camp. Never lead them to your camp.
If they really really insist on you leading them somewhere, then lead them to a Black Rock Ranger outpost.
* Keep your tent closed.
Always keep your tent zipped closed when you are not in it. If possible, use opaque screens or sheets to block transparent window screens, so there is no line of sight into your tent. Reflective panels and reflective cloth are also good for keeping the heat of the sun out of your tent.
You may want to use a luggage lock to lock the zipper of your tent when you are not in it. If your tent is zipped shut, they are supposed to need a warrant to open it, or they are supposed to need your consent. They probably won’t have a warrant, and you are not going to give them your consent, remember? “I do not consent to a search.” They may search your tent anyway. Do not give them consent once they start. Once they start, they will probably trash your stuff, no matter what you say.
* Your name and your ID.
If they ever stop you, you do have to tell them your correct “wallet name” as it is printed on your official ID. Tell them your name as it is printed on your official ID, driver’s license, or passport. You do not have to voluntarily show them your ID if they ask to see it. You especially do not have to go to your camp to get your ID for them.
If you are a not a US citizen and are visiting on a visa waiver program, you do not have to carry your passport with you. If you are a resident alien on a visa (e.g. you have a “green card”), you do have to carry your green card with you. Sorry about that.
* Being Detained, or “Am I free to go?”.
The magic phrase is: “Am I free to go?”
Keep saying it. As soon as they say “yes”, walk away immediately and without another word. Do not run, walk.
If they write you a ticket, you must take it. Put it in your pocket, and then you say “Am I free to go?”
If they ever say you are not free to go, you say “Am I being arrested?”. If they say “no you are not being arrested”, you say again “Am I free to go?”. Keep it up as many times as necessary. Yes, it will sound like a stupid kid game, like “stop copying me”, but the game is very real with very real stakes, and this is their game to win, and yours to lose.
* Being Arrested.
If they ever say anything like “you are under arrest”, or ever do anything to make you think you are being arrested, such as them restraining you in any way, you must immediately say the following magic phrase (memorize it!): “I do not consent to any search. I hereby invoke my right to remain silent. I want to speak to my attorney.” And then you SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Do not say anything at all about your arrest until you are talking in private with your attorney. Not with those cops, not with any other cops, not with any onlookers, not with anyone else who was arrested, not with anyone who is being held with you. Not with your campmates, or with your friends, or even with your family. Even your spouse. Assume all police cars, transport vans, and cells are bugged. Assume the cops will lie about what you say to them. Assume everyone you meet while you are being held will testify against you and that will lie about what you say to them. Your best defense will be being able to say you never said anything to anyone. You invoked your right to remain silent. Use it.
* Alcohol.
The camps with open bars that are giving away booze may ask to see your ID to verify you are older than 21. You don’t have to show it to them, but they don’t have to give you free booze either.
The state liquor cops will be there trying to sting your camp. If you are giving away booze, even if it’s only beer or wine, and the person you are about to give it to looks like they could possibly be under 21, you should verify their age by checking their ID.
Even if your camp is not running a public bar, random people will walk into your camp and ask for booze. You will almost certainly have an under-21 plainclothes liquor cop walk into your camp at least once during the week, to try to sting you.
An alcohol service bust is an expensive way to ruin your burn for your entire camp.
* Who Watches the Watchmen?
While the cops are dealing with you, you need to be memorizing the color and design of their uniforms and memorizing their name tags. They are supposed to be wearing visible name tags while in uniform. Yeah, right.
As soon as you get away from the cops, promptly go to Center Camp or to a Black Rock Ranger outpost to fill out a Law Enforcement Feedback Form and immediately turn it in.
If you personally with your own eyes see the cops detaining anyone, arresting anyone, or searching anyone or anything, do the same thing: memorize what you can and then fill out and turn in a Law Enforcement Feedback Form as soon as you can.
Each morning, all the feedback forms are read out loud in a meeting with the with the police leadership and the event leadership.
If the cops dump your stuff from your car, trailer, tent, or pockets out onto the playa ground, make sure you describe that in the feedback form. The Bureau of Land Management leadership have opinions about the cops trashing the playa.
* Your camera.
When you see the cops, you may choose to use your camera to record them. The Judiciary at all levels has clearly stated that everyone, including you, has the right to record the police. Cops hate it, but too bad.
If a cop tell you to turn off your camera, keep recording. If they threaten to arrest you for recording, keep recording.
They cannot lawfully order you to stop recording. They cannot lawfully order you or anyone else to delete photos or video. They cannot lawfully delete any photos or video themselves. If they do, they themselves are knowingly breaking the law and that will be very useful in court.
If you ever see a cop order anyone to stop recording or to delete anything, make sure that goes on the Law Enforcement Feedback Form.
While you are recording them, never get in their way, and stay back at least 35 feet / 10 meters.
* “Undercover” cops.
The cops claim there are very few “undercover” cops at the event. This is a very carefully nuanced untruth.
There are cops at the event who are not “undercover” but instead are “plain clothes”. This means that instead of wearing uniforms or visible badges they are dressed up to look like burners.
They do not have to tell you they are cops when you ask them. You will not be able to “sense” that they are cops. Some of them have been doing this every year for more years than you have come to the event yourself.
People have been busted by a cop who was wearing only sparkles and a miniskirt. Cops have been seen standing nearly naked on top of speakers next to mainstages, pointing out the use of cannibus to uniformed cops circling the dance floor.
If someone you do not know asks for drugs or offers to trade you anything for drugs, they are a cop. If you met them this year at this Burn, you do not know them. If someone sits down on a couch next to you, or in an art car next to you, and gets around to asking about drugs, they are a cop.
If you met these two girls a few days ago looking at art out in deep playa, and they are really cute, and they went out dancing with you last night, and they just suggested that if you can supply some “favors”, you all can “party together” in your tent, they are cops. No, really, yes, she and her girlfriend both are cops, and her coworkers are eagerly standing by to ruin your whole year.
* What if I need “Police Services”?
What if you are lost? Or a camp mate is lost? Or your child is lost? Or you have found a lost child? Or you have found someone who is injured or who is unable to take care of themselves? What if you are assaulted? What if something has been stolen? What if someone is hurt? What if you find someone who is dangerously out of sorts? What if you just can’t even?
Go to a BLACK ROCK RANGER or to an ESD VOLUNTEER. The Rangers or ESD will help deal with the situation. If the cops are actually needed, the Rangers or ESD can summon the cops and can deal with the cops. If the cops are not needed, then the Rangers or ESD can summon the right help for you.
Know what the Black Rock Ranger uniform is, and how it’s different from the cop uniforms. Rangers wear khaki shirts and khaki hats with the Burning Man logo on their hats, and on their chests, and on their backs, and on their vehicles. ESD have yellow shirts that say “Emergency Services” on them.
Black Rock Rangers are not cops. They really are there to help you, no kidding.
Have a great Burn!
https://burners.me/2018/08/16/how-to-deal-with-cops-at-burning-man-2018-edition/
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
FANTASY DRABBLE: REMEMBER YOUR ORIGINS (III)
[ Chapter III: Connections. ]
“You're a former Musutafu knight...?!”
“Yep. Spent most of it on the front-lines, too!”
Deku watched as Rokusuke readied his forge, a few ingots already sitting to the side waiting to be melted down. Rain continued to pour, persisting since yesterday albeit much lighter than before. Moderate distance from the intense heat from the forge was enough for the freelancer to feel the chilly air, but despite being topless while borrowing an old pair of Rokusuke’s pants, he didn’t have to worry a single bit about growing too cold. On the contrary, he was actually quite warm. Very much uncomfortably so. The black dire wolf, Yin, was practically leaning her weight into him, after all. Deku was even struggling just to sit comfortably where he was at. When his eyes briefly glanced over at the other wolf, who was apparently named Yang, she simply returned the glance before yawning and sprawling out onto her side.
Never would he have imagined that there’d be a blacksmith living deep in the forest, and still so close to the abandoned outpost, too. Honestly, him assuming the guy to be a lumberjack made much more sense in his mind. Instead, Rokusuke wasn’t just a blacksmith, but a former knight of the Capital, too. Not to mention, these dire wolves were much too domesticated around this guy as well. The fact they viewed him as the pack leader was a formidable thing to note.
“I ended up leaving the Capital after some point when we were assigned to burn down a village for refusing to lend us shelter for a war. I always suspected the king to be corrupted, never thought it’d be that bad.” As the blacksmith began working on repairing the broken shortsword, he casually spoke to the freelancer without so much as interrupting himself with a huff. “The king knew better than to go send a bunch of fodder soldiers after me, by the way. There’s a reason why I was always assigned to lead the front-lines, after all. People would always call me Dusk with the way I planned all my assaults. ‘Never rest when the sun goes down. That’s when Dusk inevitably arrives.’ Pretty cool, right? That’s what they’d usually say when it came to talking about one of Musutafu’s most skilled warriors.” He chuckled at the wordplay as nostalgia washed over him, and then he moved on along with hammering the metal out.
“Fortunately, I was a blacksmith’s apprentice before I was a knight. Eventually made myself at home right here near the outpost that my great-grandfather used to be stationed at. You’d be surprised how well the trees here hides my existence. Only those with the right connections know my location, and to them I’d graciously offer my services. I ain’t even lonely out here, either. Ever since I found Yin and Yang as little pups, it’s been easier to spend the days in peace and quiet.”
“Amazing...” Deku simply stared at Rokusuke in awe, watching the sparks fly from every hit against the metal. “Even though you’re only twenty-eight years old, you already sound like a long-retired veteran full of history...!” He was really glad that Yin had backed off by this point to doze off. His hands were aching to writing everything down. The instant he was free, he was writing in his notebooks like the little scholar he was. Rokusuke was definitely someone worth cataloging, even though he personally requested that his location was to be omitted out. Everything he’d talk about thereafter ended up landing a section in the pages, too. Even his fighting style seemed so distinctly remarkable enough to jot down. It honestly reminded Deku of Sir Niko, the youngest of the Prince’s Loyal Three...
“But hey, enough about me, let’s hear about you! It’s not everyday I end up welcoming a complete stranger onto my turf, after all. What’s your story, Freelancing Adventurer Deku?” Rokusuke took a good look at the shape of the sword when he brought it up to eye level for inspection. He eventually tucked it back into the furnace, wiping sweat from his forehead before flashing the freelancer a hearty grin. “If you entertain me enough, I just might teach you a thing or two in a sparring session that Niko never even thought of himself.”
Deku’s hasty writing came to a sudden halt when he mentioned Sir Niko. His eyes widened as he stared up at the blacksmith, not once ever mentioning the knight to him. “Wait-- y-you know Sir Niko? But how did you...”
Rokusuke simply laughed before pointing at the sheathed dagger attached to Deku’s belt. “I’m the one who made that dagger, y’know. Never thought that damn bastard would actually end up giving it up to someone else. Why else would I have let you in on where I live?” He eventually resumed with the sword’s repair, one hefty hammer after another. “You’re someone that Niko’s trusts, after all. He’d never go this far out of his way for someone like this. Knowing him since childhood, it’s clear you’ve become a favorite lil’ bro to him, and you know what?” The blacksmith briefly paused, then looked over at the freelancer with an appreciative half-smile.
“That means you’re my lil’ bro, too.”
[ Previous: Chapter II, The Blacksmith. ]
[ Next: Chapter IV, Parting Gifts. ]
1 note
·
View note
Text
A Story with Mutants: Chapter 1, kind of
Hey, here’s a thing I’ve been working on forever. It’s an old project that I revived recently and have been working on in my increasingly small amounts of free time. I’ve got a little more than this written but I only wanna post the first part here, mostly so that a particular friend of mine (hi, Marten!) can read it. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it! I don’t even have chapter titles. It’s very unedited.
[Chapter 1, I guess]
The roof of the First Lupei Bank stood a few stories taller than all the surrounding buildings except one, a fifty-something story modern skyscraper misplaced among the old concrete and steel blocks. Its mirrored windows cast back the grey skies with a veneer of rain. Below the streets gleamed in puddles, passersby shedding their coats at the return of the sun, the rumble of traffic muffled by the height. It’d be peaceful if not for the industrial AC unit rattling. Sheinberg shrugged off his jacket, breathing deeply. “I love it up here,” he sighed warmly as he stepped out from the stairwell. “About as private as one can get in the historical district.”
“Doesn’t seem very private,” Shiloh muttered, following behind him.
Sheinberg leaned against the concrete edge, narrow shoulders lifted and elbows settled on the wall. “Too much interference. The AC’s too loud, the other buildings are too short, and that big one there is a news station—twenty-four seven broadcasting, radio, satellite, everything.”
“That’s… very basic.”
“Well, there is more.” Sheinberg pulled a small box from his pocket. “But no fun in telling everything, is there? You smoke?”
“I do, actually.”
Sheinberg held out the box and Shiloh accepted a cigarette with a nod of thanks, placing it between his lips to draw his own lighter. “‘S a dying habit,” Sheinberg muttered through the filter. He cupped a hand against the wind and puffed a few times, smoke swirling against his palm. “I mean, rightly so; it’s a killer. But it’s nice to have a smoking buddy now and again. How’d you get into it?”
“Old teenage habit,” Shiloh murmured. “You?”
“Similar. So.” He cast Shiloh a wry, knowing grin. “Let’s talk first impressions. Tell me, were you expecting a black man?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Shiloh’s face, noticeable only as a spasm among the freckles around his eyes, but it was quickly smothered by a chuckle. “I admit, I was expecting an old Jewish man.”
Sheinberg laughed too, cigarette bobbing between his teeth. He slipped it between his fingers and spoke with smoke on his breath, “I get that a lot. I get that look—you hid it pretty well, you sly dog—that little blink, the head nod, the ‘oh, okay, it’s like that’ look. You know what that is?” He waited for Shiloh to shake his head. “It’s called cognitive dissonance. Old psychology concept from the fifties.”
Shiloh blew smoke through his nose. “Post-war, then?”
“No, man, nineteen-fifties. Which,” he said, waving his hand, “I guess is also post-war. But World War II, not three. The idea is that we have a set of preconceived notions of what the world should be, a bias of expectation. You hear you’re coming to meet Samuel Sheinberg, middle manager of a bank chain, you think old white guy in a yarmulke, yeah? You think big nose and curly hair and all those other things that you’d be called racist for voicing.” Shiloh snorted, grinning faintly. “What?”
“I’m Jewish.”
“Are you?”
“Partly. Though my grandfather.” He waved Sheinberg on, lifting his cigarette again. “Go on.”
Sheinberg shrugged. “I know you’re Irish—see, there’s the other side of it. No cognitive dissonance when you hear a name like Moil—Maloi—”
“Maoilseachlainn?”
“That. That’s Irish if I ever heard it. Then you walk in, freckled all to hell, pale as the dead, speaking with an accent. All you’re missing is the red hair and a flask. You are a perfect fit with my idea of your average Irish ex-pat.” He clamped the cigarette between his teeth and reached into his jacket pocket, holding it out on his arm. “Which, if you’ve come this far, you are not.”
“In many ways, I’m not,” Shiloh murmured, a smile ghosting about his lips.
Sheinberg pulled out a little red card and draped his jacket on the concrete edge, leaning back onto it with his elbows, and rolled the card across his fingers like a coin. “I didn’t bring up hundred-fifty year old psychology concepts for no reason,” he warned. “That moment when things aren’t exactly what you expect—that’s a definitive moment. You can learn a lot about someone by how they respond to dissonance. And it’s not just when people aren’t stereotypes, it’s anything: situations, information, even actions. What do you do when you act against your own beliefs?”
“Is that rhetorical?” Shiloh asked.
“No. Dead serious.”
“I imagine most people don’t do that.”
“But they do, every day.” He waggled his cigarette between his fingers. “Smoking, for example. At the end of the twenty-second century, between vapor alternatives and the health crisis and climate change and all that shit, smoking tobacco nearly disappeared from American soil. The last major generation of smokers died of lung cancer. It was kept alive by traditionalists and historians, nothing more. If you ask someone if they smoke, most of the time you get, ‘Don’t you know that’s bad for you?’” He took a long drag and spoke with smoke whirling on his breath, “Ever tried to quit?”
“Once or twice.”
“You obviously didn’t succeed. So, tell me, Shiloh: when you picked up that first cig after weeks, maybe even months, of sobriety, what did you feel? When you knew you were breaking a promise to someone important, maybe yourself? You knew it was bad for you. Still is. Why’d you still do it?”
Shiloh studied his half-burnt cigarette, sheltered from the wind by his shoulders. “Several reasons, I suppose,” he said thoughtfully. “Stress, mostly. You must know my line of work.”
“Yeah, and I can’t blame you for any vice. But that’s not my question.”
“It’s not, is it?” He sighed and looked up as if the sky held answers. “If I’m being honest, I felt guilty. Disappointed in myself. I managed to justify it later—to myself, mostly—but at the time I just needed the indulgence.”
Sheinberg nodded slowly, cigarette loose in his lips. “That’s dissonance. Your own actions in opposition to your own beliefs and all the facts supporting them. So you justify.” He took the cigarette from his mouth and gave the red card another roll across his fingers. “It’s largely situational and I get that, but you get the concept, yeah?”
“I do.”
“Good. You see where I’m going with this?”
“I have a sneaking suspicion.”
Sheinberg flicked the card across his hand, pinning it with his pinky and index finger over the two between to show off the ram’s head logo. “What do you know about the Ramheart Outpost?”
“Less than you, I’m sure.”
“Once again, that’s not my question.”
Shiloh took a long drag, held his breath as he snuffed his cigarette on the concrete, and sighed smoke through his nose. “I know it operates as a brothel,” he said lightly, “for a number of reasons. But my interest in it is primarily as one of the largest and most secure mutant sanctuaries of the country.”
Sheinberg paused. “Go on.”
“What do you want to know?” Sheinberg simply waved a hand, urging him on. “The Ramheart, as I’ve most often heard it called, is located somewhere in the city of Lupei and serves as a major entry point for a global network of sanctuaries and asylums for mutants. I’ve been to several others—Cardiff, Chicago, the Mojave—but none as large or as connected.” Sheinberg waved further. “I’ve got an approximate location on it, but—”
“Listen, Mawlsee—Marl—fuck—Shiloh. We just had a conversation about psychology and emotion. Don’t play me for an idiot, Shiloh; you know I’m the Ramheart’s gatekeeper and you know I don’t care about what data you’ve scrounged up from chasing us. I’m not here to judge your spying abilities. I’m here to judge you.” He dropped his cigarette without taking his eyes from Shiloh’s and smothered it with his shoe. “What do you think the Ramheart is?”
Shiloh stared him down without expression—for such a vibrant face, all freckles and cheekbones and fine brows, it was amazing how well he could keep it blank—and spoke with a stiff neck, voice loose and honest, “The Ramheart is a refuge for those without refuge. A banned people whose very existence is tied to the worst forms of organized crime. It is a gateway to other mutant sanctuaries, and I suspect that’s often why it’s sought, but it is first and foremost a provider of some simulacrum of a normal life for those for whom that can never be a reality. It is, by multiple definitions, an asylum. It is also—and forgive me, this is a personal interest—an enormous operation with clients around the globe that still manages a level of secrecy unheard of by even the most successful intelligence agencies. I don’t seek the Ramheart for personal reasons.”
“I know,” Sheinberg said quietly.
Shiloh nodded. “You’ve given me the runaround better than some of the mutant-makers I’ve found, you know. That’s as great a compliment as I can give.”
Sheinberg leaned in slightly. “That’s. Not. My. Question.”
“I seek the Ramheart Outpost because one of the mutants there is relevant to my mission, and you know already that I can’t tell you more about that.”
For a moment, Sheinberg was silent. The cigarette smoke still ghosted about their feet, their last wisps crawling along the quarter-inch of windless space before being caught up and lost in the updraft. A car honked below and a dull voice called back angrily. “Okay,” Sheinberg said thinly, spreading a hand on the concrete ledge and drumming his fingers. “Let’s try something else. You know anything about history?”
“You’re too general.”
“You’re dodging me. We’re talking about mutants, so I pretty obviously mean mutant history. What do you know about it? And don’t”—he held up a hand quickly—“don’t give me names; I could not give less of a shit about who you’ve tracked and brought down. Tell me why you had to do that in the first place.” Shiloh stared him down. The man could cut glass with those eyes. “You really don’t understand why we’re here, do you?”
Shaking his head, Shiloh pulled his lighter out again and a box of cigarettes of his own. “I don’t understand what you want, that’s for sure.”
Sheinberg rolled his bony shoulders out to his wrists, a single fluid motion, and steadied his stance as if readying for a debate. Unperturbed, Shiloh lit another cigarette. “World War III. It starts there and should’ve ended there. You know mutants were weapons at first, right?”
“Still are,” Shiloh murmured threateningly.
“Not often. They started as just beefed-up humans, you know. Little genetic enhancements to make them better killers. Then people started making them more animalistic, bigger, carnivorous, real monsters. Those were weapons, Shiloh Starts-With-An-M. We’re fuckin’ lucky they didn’t survive that long.” He watched Shiloh’s hands hide in his jacket pockets shamelessly. “The Second Geneva Convention banned the technology in war but nowhere else—common misconception is that it was banned all over then and there, but it actually took ‘til 2069 for the general ban to be signed by every country. This incredible military technology to alter genomes however the hell you so choose suddenly passed from government to private hands. That’s where the more artistic mutants came from that inspired the ones you track today. The twenty-first century anthropomorphic fantasies. Did you know, Shiloh that in the 2050s, the mutant population of the United States was almost as high as the population of African slaves before the civil war? Millions of specially-made, designer, often intelligent beings passed around like shiny new toys. Guard dogs, sexual objects, pets—ever heard of Red Norton? He was a mutant actor made specifically for a series of horror movies in the early 2040s—who existed solely as property. They never had any rights to take when they were made illegal. It was like rounding up assault rifles after the ban.”
Shiloh’s expression was dead. “You know, some bars and cafés host trivia nights. You’d be a champion.”
“As soon as the ban went into effect,” Sheinberg continued, cutting over the last of his words, “traffickers started scrambling for the mutants. I’m sure you know more about that than I do, Mr. Tracker. What you might not know is the schism it caused among the global trafficking networks—who would move mutants, who could keep them, who’d deal in their technology. The Ramheart was one of the first underground sanctuaries and it split pretty quickly with the rest of the trafficking network. You know the name Marise Williams?”
“The cryptographer, yes.”
“The same. She founded it right before she died.”
Shiloh took the cigarette from his mouth. “That I didn’t know,” he admitted, pointing with it.
“It’s her work that started the incredible web of secrecy that you’ve been navigating for… how long now?”
“The better part of two years.”
Sheinberg drew himself upright, spreading his arms. “And here you are.”
“Yes.”
“Looking for one mutant in particular.”
“Yes.”
“And not for personal reasons. I can only assume, from what I know of you, that they’re connected to one of the traffickers you hunt.”
“That’s as much as I can tell you.”
Sheinberg put his fists on his hips, tapping a foot. “I don’t like it. I don’t at all.”
“Does that matter?” Shiloh asked, cigarette hanging forgotten in his fingers. “My intentions are not to harm the mutant, only to question it. This might be important to you but, to me, this is just another part of another investigation.”
“Does that matter?” Sheinberg retorted. He rubbed his cheek and sighed. “Listen. I’m torn on you. I can tell you don’t mean harm to my organization, but you’re… I think you’re a force of nature, man. You religious?”
“I am.”
“Right, Jewish.”
“No, Kirian.”
Sheinberg grimaced politely. “The Odd Gods, huh?”
“Does it bother you?”
“No, but I really don’t know much about it.” Rubbing his chin, he queried, “You guys have a chaos goddess, right?”
Shiloh nodded. “Alad, goddess of both order and chaos. I—consider her my patron deity, even among the pantheon,” he added hesitantly. “I consider myself an agent of her peace, balancing the natural chaos of the world.” Sheinberg stayed silent and Shiloh dropped his cigarette, smothering it with the toe of his shined leather shoe. “I don’t often talk of my religion.”
“I can tell,” Sheinberg said gently. He blew his cheeks out in a sigh. “All right, Shiloh. I’ll cut you a deal.” He held out his hand, the red card pinned to his palm, and Shiloh shook it. “I’ll grant you access for one night and one night only; you go straight to the mutant you’re looking for, make your contact, and get out. Not that I think you’re one to linger. And”—he held up a finger—“if the mutant doesn’t want to go with you, you have to respect that.”
Shiloh nodded. “Those are fair terms. I can’t promise that I won’t contact your network again, though.”
“Contacting us is fine, just leave the poor buggers at the Ramheart alone. They’ve been through enough.” He let go of the red card, letting it flap against Shiloh’s palm, and took back his hand. “Good luck, Shiloh.”
“Thank you.”
Without warning or explanation Sheinberg rubbed his nose and said, “How familiar are you with the history of tobacco? Fascinating crop. A quintessential item in American trade for centuries.”
With a small snort of amusement, Shiloh pocketed the card. “Do go on.”
Sheinberg swung his jacket over his shoulder and led the way back to the stairwell, chatting blithely and emptily of colonial American trade policy as they reentered the building. The rooftop seemed to sigh, relieved of tension, and the AC unit rattled once when the door closed. A rooftop away, a different AC unit opened and a slim figure stepped out carefully. She straightened her shirt over the listening device and made her way inside. In another building, a less subtle eavesdropper lowered his amplifier from the open window, grumbling about audio quality. The sniper atop the skyscraper lowered his weapon in relief and the sniper trained on him half a district away finally relaxed her grip on her own gun. Contact made, mission complete; Shiloh emerged from the bank a few minutes later and caught the downtown bus on the street corner. Sheinberg watched him leave from his office window, worried truly that he’d let on to too many secrets, shown too much vulnerability, damned himself with his nerves. A scarecrow playing brave to the tornado. He rubbed his nose again—maybe he should quit smoking.
#my writing#I'm gonna tag this as#DART#it's short for Don't Actually Read This which is what I named the file#mostly out of shame#it was my first ~romance~ story#still is
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Light Will Guide You Home- It Star Wars AU
AO3 Link
I. II. III.
Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
Darkness is on the rise. Darth Assem the Wise has begun gradually over taking the galaxy with his Neibolt Regime. As his power grows, so does the power of his apprentice, the fearsome Darth Fide. With the demolition of the Jedi, the public is quickly losing hope.
Meanwhile, General Marsh and the Rebel Alliance struggle to keep the Regime on a short leash. With the rumor of a hidden Neibolt base on the abandoned Sith planet Korriban, they have made quick plans to follow up on the intel.
All they can do now is hope the force is with them...
IV.
Eddie Kaspbrak really hated sand. He really did. He hated how it stuck to every surface and how it grit under his shoes when he walked. It caked under his fingernails and blew into his hair. It was a deep orangish- red that stained things when wet.
But, oh, was it beautiful when the fading sunlight hit it. The grit in the air turned the sky to beautiful coral pinks and deep purples. He could see them in all their glory from his perch on his favorite cliff ledge, watching as the sun’s light slowly gave way to the light of Korriban’s seven moons.
The ledge was the only place that Eddie could really think. It was just far enough from the small hovelish hut he called home. He lived alone with his mother, and it was far from an easy feat. She was a nervous woman, always nattering on about Eddie falling off a cliff or getting lost to the long stretches of desert. She was blissfully unaware of his little hiding place; she would have a heart attack if she knew he was sitting so close, legs dangling a good thousand feet in the air.
But Eddie got bored. There were only so many times a day that he could tend to the small, tasteless garden they had tilled, or sweep every speck of red dirt that clung to their floor. Eddie was allowed to travel to the small trading outpost on a few rare occasions, taking his old speeder to trade for things they couldn’t grow or make themselves. Those days were his favorite. He loved looking at all the strange peoples that congregated there. Seeing a small huddle of stormtroopers wasn’t uncommon either. He would listen to them all. It was years after he was allowed to go that he began learning phrases in all of the strange languages that he heard spoken. Enough to understand just a little. He held this secret knowledge close to his heart, only to be whispered when he was alone in the dark.
Another one of Eddie’s most treasured secrets is what exactly he traded at the outpost. While yes, he did trade with some of the wry vegetation his mother grew, he also frequently made stops along the way. There were several large sights of ship crashes, including an old dreadnaught. He was acutely aware that Korriban was once controlled by the Sith, and was the sight of their temple and such. He would dig around and snag anything he thought to be vaguely valuable, earning just enough rations and supplies to keep them afloat. His mother was none the wiser.
But Eddie’s biggest hidden thing, was the voice. The voice that filled his head when he was away from his mother and could concentrate on anything other than the buzzing that surrounded him. He would sit on his cliff and look out, hearing the flicker of a voice licking across his mind. It was only something akin to static at the beginning, but now Eddie could form actual words. If it wasn’t so clear and obvious, Eddie would have thought himself crazy. He was entirely unsure whether the voice could hear him back or not.
That’s where he was, standing and listening closely, straining his ears. The voice was so clear; he could even hear the sounds surrounding the other end, almost like an echo. He reached out, head quickly filling with noise, eyes clamped shut in concentration.
Then silence, like he’d been sucked into a vacuum. All he could hear was gentle breathing, a mixture of his own and that of someone else.
“Hello?” Eddie quietly whispered, warm air ghosting his lips.
“Hello?” Nearly an echo, but it was not Eddie’s voice coming back to him. This was someone else.
“Who are you?” the voice asked, a tiny bit desperate. Eddie didn’t even think before he responded in turn.
“I’m nobody.”
“I think you’re wrong. You have to be more than just ‘nobody.’”
“Well, what about you? Who are you.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“Nobody.”
“You can’t say that. Not if I’m not allowed to be nobody. Where are you, where do you come from?”
“I come from somewhere dark,” the voice said, the last syllable of his statement ringing in Eddie’s ears. He could almost see it, almost feel it. Somewhere with corridors, somewhere with stark blacks and reds. Somewhere that was, indeed, dark. “Where do you come from?”
“Somewhere light,” Eddie said in turn. He slowly opened his eyes for the first time, feeling the warmth of the sinking sun, feeling the sand beneath his palms. Solitude, peace, the zeal of freedom. The ever present pull. He let it flood him, and he listened as the voice felt it himself.
But then the vacuum was gone, and the voice with it.
The strangest thing, Eddie thought, was how it didn’t even feel like he was really saying anything. Something had done it for him, and he had just been along for the ride. Something that wanted him to connect.
He felt that Something very often. He felt it as he listened in on the conversations between the outpost patrons. He felt it when he stood far above the deserted expanse below him. He felt it all around, but he never understood what it meant. It sometimes scared him, the things he felt through it. But he never felt lonely.
When he lay in bed that night, he tried and tried to tune back into that vacuum, that voice and all of the cold that came with it. It scared Eddie. It scared him enough to seek it out.
He woke the next morning to his mother telling him exactly what he needed to hear; it was a day he was allowed to go to the outpost.
He jumped in his speeder and zoomed off quick as he could.
He would have never guessed what he’d see.
Eddie was listening, trying and trying to tune back to the dark. That’s when he saw it. The dark plume of smoke rising over the horizon caused him to steer away from his original location faster than anything. As the source of the smoke grew closer, it became obvious that it was the sight of a terrible crash. What was once a cruiser of some sort lay in ruin, smoke billowing out in a terrifying cloud.
Eddie leapt from his speeder, sure footed steps keeping him from slipping on the sand. As he drew nearer, he noticed three figures lying in the hot sun.
“Hey! Hey, what happened?”
The small shuffling of limbs was all the signal he needed to grab his canteen and approach the group. He tapped the shoulder of the nearest man, sand turning his kinked locks rusty.
“Who are you? What happened?”
The man groaned, slowly lifting his head. He squinted against the sun, dirt caked to his pale cheek. Little cuts littered the edges of his face, weakly leaking blood. Eddie kneeled down, carefully wiping sand from his face and offering his canteen. The man took it greedily, gulping a large sip of the liquid within.
“My name is Stan Uris,” he croaks, slowly moving to sit more upright.
“Eddie Kaspbrak.” They shake hands.
Eddie makes his way to the other two men, one large and blond, the other with dark skin and a stormtrooper uniform. They introduced themselves as Ben and Mike, respectively.
“Where do you guys come from?”
“We’re from the Resistance. We came here on a mission, but now we’re stranded,” Ben said, trying to shake the sand out of his orange flight suit. Eddie raised an eyebrow, vaguely gesturing to Mike.
“What about him? What’s with the stormtrooper get up?” Mike looked up, pausing his efforts to remove the white armour plates from his body.
“I decided to join the Resistance after my first battle. I’m not really cut out for killing people, I don’t think. I helped these guys escape from the Regime base, but we didn’t get very far…”
“Yeah, I can see that. You guys really look like you could use some help.”
“That obvious?” Stan scoffed, a strained smirk painted across his face. Eddie raised his eyebrow, then looked down to pick sand out from under his nail. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure how it would work. He wasn’t sure how his mother would react, and that’s what scared him the most. But he had to do something.
“Look, there’s a trading outpost not far from here. We could find you a ride back to where ever you guys come from, and you can stay with me until then.”
The group all glanced around, silence palpable.
“We can’t just impose on you. We don’t have any way to pay you or anything,” Ben finally said, shakily standing. He almost didn’t make it upright.
“Look, now isn’t the time to be modest. You guys are fucked if I don’t help you. And I’d rather not leave you guys to dehydrate in the desert. So, I’m not really asking, I’m telling.”
Mike raised an eyebrow, and Stan just shrugged.
And that's how all four of them ended up piled into Eddie’s speeder, following the horizon to the outpost.
Once they arrived, however, the entire atmosphere changed. Nearly every strange being present turned their head to sneak a peek at the rag tag group. Stan and Ben had the sleeves of their flight suits tied around their waists, the obvious Rebel orange catching quite the amount of attention. Mike had at least thought to strip himself of the trademark white stormtrooper armour, instead wearing nothing but the black underclothes that the plates had been attached to. And Eddie, now a familiar face among the regulars, tugged self consciously at his tan, raggedy outfit.
Eddie quickly scuttled over to the rations counter, catching the attention of the man behind the counter.
“Look, these guys need some help, and fast. Are there any ships leaving in the next few days that have room for a few more passengers?” he asked, allowing a little desperation to trickle into his voice. The clerk scratched his chin, humming in thought.
“I think Pit is leaving in the morning. I might be able to call in a favor for you.”
“Thank you, you’re really helping me out here.”
But the clerk just leaned closer, speaking only loud enough for Eddie to hear.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing with those people, but it looks like a world of trouble. People aren’t really happy with those orange ones.” He gestures to Stan and Ben. “Watch yourself Kaspbrak.”
Eddie swallowed, but nodded as condescending as he possibly could.
Informing his mother of their unexpected guests, though, was something he couldn’t just will away.
“EDWARD KASPBRAK, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?!” she shrieked, thick arms flailing as she ran to their small group. Eddie sighed, preparing himself for the anger storm that was fast approaching.
Sonia Kaspbrak was not one to easily let up control. Eddie knew that first hand; he had lived with her his whole life. She loved to keep both of their lives and schedules in a gridlock, immovable and permanent.
“They crashed their ship. I found them a ride from the outpost tomorrow morning. They’ll just be here for a night.”
Sonia flattened her mouth into a stern line, but didn’t protest. Her expression made it obvious, however, that her and Eddie were going to have a chat later. It made his insides clench.
“Just watch yourself. We aren’t involved in your little war, so don’t expect more support than this.” And with that, she stormed off to go fuss over something. Eddie followed her, trying to think of anything to say to diffuse the situation.
“Mama, they would have died if I didn’t pick them up. Nobody deserves to die in that desert, okay? I couldn’t just leave them.”
“You brought the war to us, Edward! Those people will think they can just stop by here anytime they like now.”
Eddie sighed, his mother’s paranoia washing over him and making him cringe.
“This is purely isolated. I was just doing a good thing. They leave in the morning.”
She still seemed unhappy, but didn’t push the issue. Eddie waited a moment for a response, but when none came, he grabbed a handful of blankets and made his way back to his room to set up makeshift cots.
He listened carefully as the three strangers chattered amongst themselves, whispering about what they were going to do.
“So, what exactly was the Resistance doing on a planet like Korriban? There’s nothing here but strange looking cliffs and sand,” Eddie said, fluffing out a scratchy tan blanket. Stan and Ben looked at each other, a strange look passing between them.
“Well, we were part of a fleet. We were sent to follow up on a rumor of a base on this planet,” Stan said, barely a mutter and with little eye contact.
“Well, I’m guessing the rumor was true?”
His question was met with three sets of withering looks.
“Understatement. What we found was the largest Neibolt Regime base in the galaxy, and an army of stormtroopers. We were the only ones not killed in the attack, and we were taken prisoner by Darth Fide,” Stan continued, voice strained. Hearing the name of the Sith spoken aloud made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand on end, although he couldn’t place why.
“We were tortured for information for five days. That was, until Mike broke us out and helped us escape.” Ben lifted his shirt to accentuate the point, exposing the still healing wound on his stomach. Eddie felt air rush from between his teeth, cringing with sympathy pain.
“Bev must be worried sick. I doubt she knows we’re still alive. We don’t even know where the ship is, or what happened after we were captured. And Bill... “ Stan paused to swallow. “Our commander is gone. We have no leadership, no one to follow.”
Mike moved to place a large hand on Stan’s shoulder in an effort to comfort.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do know there is at least one of you that survived. Other than you guys obviously,” he said, voice gentle and smooth. Both pilots turned at breakneck speed, confusion written in plain view.
“What do you mean?”
“I told you I didn’t kill anyone. I had my gun aimed at someone, but I decided to shoot next to him and make it look like I killed him, but I didn’t. I think he just played dead the whole time.”
Eddie watched this discussion with open eyes, enamored by the story he was being told. He was vaguely aware of the fact that there was a war. Honestly, when was there ever not a war? But listening to these strangers had made it all the more real. More personal. Eddie knew his father had been heavily involved at the beginning, and that’s why his mother moved them out to this desolate wasteland. Because his father had died, and Sonia refused to have her son fall to the same fate.
But Eddie couldn’t just ignore it anymore. It was real now, and if what he’d heard about the Regime base was true, very close.
He thought about that later that night, lying awake in the dark. His guests gentle breathing filled the room, but it was nothing compared to the deafening roar he felt in his head. He was filled with so many conflicted ideas and feelings, it was like he was an entirely different person.
That was why he was so surprised when the vacuum finally returned, leaving everything scarily quiet. He took a deep inhale of breath.
“Hello.” he whispered.
“Hello. Seems like we can’t leave each other alone, can we?” the voice asked, a little less informal than before.
“It would appear so. I guess I’m just surprised.”
“Surprised? Because you can hear someone else in your head?”
Eddie chuckled a little bit; it echoed around, making the void a little lighter.
“No, not really. I can usually only hear you if my head is clear. Everything is just really foggy right now. I suppose I’m unsure.”
“Unsure?”
“I feel a calling, but I don’t know what exactly that will entail. I guess I’m just scared.”
“Scared of change?” The voice appeared intrigued.
“Scared of anything other than nothing. That’s what my life has become. Nothing but an empty stretch.”
The voice was silent for a moment, but Eddie knew it was just thinking.
“What do I call you? I know your name isn’t just Nobody.”
“I know yours isn’t either,” Eddie said, but then he paused. “You can call me Eddie.”
His name echoed, and it was like something large had shifted.
“Eddie. Eddie… I like it. I might even call you Eds. How’s that sound?”
“Absolutely horrible. Please don’t ever call me that.”
“Sounds good, Eds. I guess in that case, you can call me Richie.”
Eddie ignored the awful nickname to relish the new information he’d gleaned.
“Huh, Richie’s an odd name for some disembodied voice inside my head.”
“So’s Eddie.”
He laughed a little at that.
But, just as quickly as he’d come, Richie was gone. Instead, Eddie’s name was being called by someone else. He jumped up from his bed, but the chanting was not deterred. It sounded like it was coming from below him.
Basement, he thought, stepping around the people littered on the floor. He tiptoed as quickly as he could, going into their storage room as fast as his feet could carry him.
He’d only ever been in the basement a few times in his life, his mother only permitting him down there to put dried foods in storage. But once he was down there, it wasn’t the vegetables that caught his attention. It was a large chest, hiding in the corner behind several boxes. Eddie shoved them away as steadfastly as his anxiety-corded body would allow.
By the time he wretched open the chest, he wasn’t even in control anymore.
Sitting atop random knick knacks and strange tan clothing, was a tarnished silver handle of sorts.
Tentatively, Eddie reached out and grabbed it.
The reaction was immediate. The feeling was something akin to being violently shot back in time. Visions passed around him in a wild storm of history and knowledge.
He saw a wild lightsaber fight, twelve figures in Jedi robes descending on one dark figure, but they were all quickly vanquished. He saw another man valiantly stand up to the same dark figure, his dark eyes shining with something that both scared and inspired Eddie. Their battle was epic, bright red and yellow blades flailing. But the dark was too strong, and the man was struck down. Eddie screamed, trying in vain to stop it all. But it was too much, every iota of light being crushed.
Then everything changed. He saw a pair of children, one with a mess of black hair and the other a sandy color. They were both crying, flames and violence surrounding them.
“I’m sorry, Stanny. I have to go now.”
The flames faded to rain, and Eddie watched as a darkly clothed man writhed and cried out, an imposing figure standing over him. Laughing. It was a terrible thing that rang out and all around.
The laughing morphed grossly into crying, and suddenly Eddie was watching himself as a child. He was standing next to his mother in front of a simple looking grave.
Where was his father?
Where was he?
wherewashewherewashewherewashewhere-
He was thrown back against the ground, back to the present in his basement. The strange tube was still clenched in his hand.
“Eddie?”
He quickly jumped up, turning on his heel. There in the doorway, shrouded in darkness, was his mother. Her eyes were wide in shock.
“Where did you find that?”
Eddie paused.
“It… called to me. It was calling me and I followed it. I saw… I saw everything.”
“No, I won’t have you ending up like your father. Put it back and go back to bed.”
“No.”
Sonia was shocked.
“No?”
“Mama, this is important. I can feel it.”
“No Edward. The Jedi killed your father, I won’t have you die from them too.”
Eddie swallowed.
“What do you mean?”
“Your father was a Jedi. He died in the first battle that started this war. That’s his lightsaber.” She sounded almost ashamed. Eddie looked down at the object in his hand. The metal had become warm in his hand, and he carefully inspected every groove and scar on its surface. His finger hovered over the button he knew would activate the blade.
When he pressed it, he was faced with a bright pole of amber-yellow light, illuminating the dark room and casting shadows across the walls. It felt easier than anything to hold it.
“You know I can’t stay with you forever,” Eddie said, sheathing the blade in the handle again.
“... yes, I know. But I had to protect you. I had you keep you away from all that violence. It’s not right, what’s happening in the galaxy right now.”
Eddie nodded, understanding.
The next morning, he helped Ben, Stan, and Mike load bags of rations and spare clothes into his speeder, his own bags joining in.
“Are you sure you want to come with us?” Stan asked, placing a supportive hand on Eddie’s shoulder.
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s time for me to do something.”
Stan smiled, then gestured to where Eddie’s mom was standing.
“May the force be with you!” she called out, waving as the group piled into the vehicle.
Eddie nodded, waved at his mother, and raced off across the sand.
#my writing#reddie#stenbrough#benverly#It (2017)#eddie kaspbrak#richie tozier#stan uris#bill denbrough#Ben Hascom#beverly marsh#mike hanlon#the light will guide you home#star wars
11 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Ana Victoria Jiménez (Mexican, b. 1941), from the series Cuaderno de tareas (Assignment book), 1978-81Four sets of ten black-and-white photographs. 25 sheets: 10 × 6 1/2 in. (25.4 × 16.5 cm); 15 sheets: 6 1/2 × 10 in. (16.5 × 25.4 cm). Courtesy of Ana Victoria Jiménez. ©the artist. Image courtesy of the Hammer Museum.
PLAN ForYourArt: December 7–13
Thursday, December 7
Winter Soiree, The Music Center (Downtown), 5:30pm. $2,500.
Family 1st Thursday: Installation Art, Santa Barbara Museum of Art (Santa Barbara), 5:30–7:30pm.
Artist and scholar walkthroughs: Angela Lopez Ruiz, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 6pm.
Sculpture to Wear !ndelible, Kopeikin Galllery (Culver City), 6–9pm.
Paul Brach Lecture Series: Wizard Apprentice (Tieraney Carter), CalArts (Valencia), 6pm.
Graphic Design T-Shirt Show, CalArts (Valencia), 6–11pm.
David Alan Harvey: Capturing Cuba, Annenberg Space for Photography (Century City), 6:30–8pm.
GEORGE BALANCHINE'S THE NUTCRACKER, The Music Center (Downtown), 6:30pm. Through December 10.
Talk: Curator Walkthrough of "A Universal History of Infamy" with Rita Gonzalez, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 7pm.
CraftNight: Papercraft A Holiday Workshop, Craft and Folk Art Museum (Miracle Mile), 7–9pm. $10.
at land’s edge presents Jimena Sarno, Southern California Library (South L.A.), 7–9pm.
Felipe Dulzaides and John Loomis on Havana's National Art Schools, LAMAG (East Hollywood), 7pm.
Rodney Bingenheimer "Santa's Got a GTO Vol. 2" LP and Gearhead Magazine Release Party, La Luz de Jesus Gallery (Los Feliz), 7–10pm.
ALTERNATE ENDINGS, RADICAL BEGINNINGS, MOCA Grand Avenue (Downtown), 7–9pm.
In Conversation: Lok Siu and Maria Magdalena Campos-Pons, California African American Museum (Downtown), 7pm.
SCREENINGS Part of the series The Contenders 2017: Get Out, and Q&A with Jordan Peele, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 7:30pm.
Reading Series, Women’s Center for Creative Work (Frogtown), 7:30–9:30pm.
Crotty Lecture - Christian Origins in Early Modern Europe: The Birth of a New Kind of History, The Huntington (San Marino), 7:30pm.
CalArts Winter Dance, CalArts (Valencia), 8:30pm. Also December 8.
Jazz Ensemble Concert, CalArts (Valencia), 10pm.
Friday, December 8
Conference: Globalizing the Protestant Reformations, The Huntington (San Marino), 8:30am.
Indigenous Knowledge and the Making of the Colonial Latin America, Getty Center (Brentwood), 9:30am–5pm.
Deconstructing Allusion II: Featuring Greg Miller, JoAnne Artman Gallery (Laguna Beach), 11am–5pm.
Little Masters of Imagine Studio, Center for the Arts Eagle Rock (Eagle Rock), 5–9pm.
ARTIST APPEARANCE: THOMAS DEMAND, Palm Springs Art Museum (Palm Springs), 5:30pm.
Your Mouth A Constellation, JOAN (Mid-City), 7pm; performance, 7:30pm.
REGGAE ON THE BORDER: THE POSSIBILITIES OF A FRONTERA SOUNDSCAPE, Museum of Latin American Art (Long Beach), 7pm.
Film: An Evening With . . . Sam Esmail, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 7:30pm.
REMATCH by Simone Forti & Carmela Hermann Dietrich, Highways Performance Space (Santa Monica), 8:30pm. $20–25. Also December 9.
Bennie Maupin plays The Jewel and The Lotus (1974, ECM), REDCAT (Downtown), 8:30pm. $15–25.
Desert Soul Club, Mod Soul Funk Party, Tonga Hut (Palm Springs), 9pm–1am.
WINDS FROM FUSANG: MEXICO AND CHINA IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, USC Pacific Asia Museum (Pasadena).
Saturday, December 9
Quiet Mornings: Art x Mindfulness, The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA (Downtown), 9:30am.
Lecture: Herbert Cole on Mothers and Children in the Arts of Africa, Fowler Museum (Westwood), 11am.
A Step Back In Time, The Perfect Exposure Gallery (Koreatown), 11am–4pm. Continues December 10.
Holiday Sale, White Lodge (Highland Park), 11am–4pm.
HOLIDAY BAZAAR SHOPPING EVENT, THERE-THERE GALLERY (Hollywood), 12–5pm.
L.A. Makers Pop-Up, LACE (Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions) (Hollywood), 12–7pm.
Holiday Marketplace, Self Help Graphics & Art (Downtown), 12–5pm.
Quema Del Diablo Music and Arts Festival, Joshua Tree Retreat Center / Center of Mentalphysics (Joshua Tree), 12pm.
Sun and Shadow: Imagining Los Angeles and Mexico City, ca. 1950, lecture by architectural historian Keith Eggener, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 1pm.
The Art Of Creative Manifestation And Entrepreneurialism, Women’s Center for Creative Work (Frogtown), 1–4pm. $24–30.
Queer Werkout with Nicola Bullock and Sarah Bouars, Pieter (Lincoln Heights), 1–3pm. $15–20.
MFA Open Studios, UC Riverside (Riverside), 1–5pm.
PST: Video Art in Latin America – Curator Walk Through and Screening, LAXART (Hollywood), 2pm; screening, 3:30pm.
Gingerbread House Workshop, Laguna Art Museum (Laguna Beach), 2–4pm. $10.
Around the Table: Recipes and Stories from The Lark SB, Santa Barbara Museum of Art (Santa Barbara), 2pm.
Artist talk: Katie Crown: Watercolors and Joan Wynn: Alive, TAG Gallery (Santa Monica), 3pm.
M E G A P H O T O B O O K S A T U R D A Y!, Arcana Books on the Arts (Culver City), 3–7pm.
37th Annual Black Doll Show, William Grant Still Arts Center (West Adams), 3–6pm.
Michael Queenland, Kristina Kite Gallery (Mid-City), 3–5pm.
1ST CHILDREN’S HOLIDAY GALA, Museum of Latin American Art (Long Beach), 3–6pm.
plant spirit meditation ceremony with tea infusions, Five Car Garage (Santa Monica), 4–5pm.
Terry Leness: Sunshine Muse and Jennifer Bain: A Palimpsest of Time and Place, Lia Skidmore Contemporary Art (Santa Monica), 4–6pm.
Brass Ensemble Concert, CalArts (Valencia), 4–6pm.
Betty Sheinbaum: An Artist, TAG Gallery (Santa Monica), 5–8pm.
Graduate Open Studios, UCLA Graduate Studios (Culver City), 5–8pm.
There is Only One Paul R. Williams, WUHO - Woodbury University Hollywood Outpost (Hollywood), 6pm.
Holiday Echo Park Craft Fair, Mack Sennett Studios (Silver Lake), 6–9pm. Also December 10.
THE ARTYSSEY, Skid Row History Museum & Archive (Downtown), 6–8pm.
SOUTHLAND ENSEMBLE FLUXUS : CONSTRUCTION, Automata (Chinatown), 8pm. $15.
Lou Harrison, Music of the Pacific, REDCAT (Downtown), 8:30pm. $15–25.
Experimental Futures: Alex Wand, Cari Stevens, Molly Allis, Justin Asher, Human Hemingway, OOLA, Pieter (Linoln Heights), 8:30–10pm.
Sunday, December 10
Getting Real With Money, Women’s Center for Creative Work (Frogtown), 10am–1pm. Also December 17.
CREATE: A Comedy of Hands/Una comedia de manos, ESMoA (El Segundo), 10am–1pm.
HANUKKAH FESTIVAL LA/LA, Skirball Cultural Center (Brentwood), 11am–4pm.
Nutcracker: The Motion Picture and Where the Wild Things Are, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 11am.
THERE-THERE AND FORYOURART CERAMICS SUNDAY, there-there (Hollywood), 11am–3pm.
COMMUNITY HOLIDAY FESTIVAL, Museum of Latin American Art (Long Beach), 11am–5pm.
Holiday & Cookie Time, 356 Mission (Downtown), 12–5pm.
Tow Truck Towing a Tow Truck, haphazard/ as-is.la (Downtown), 1–5pm.
Performance and Open House, Side Street Projects (Altadena), 1–4pm.
Upcycled Instrument-Making Workshop with Guillermo Galindo and JR Thomason A CraftLab Family Workshop!, Craft and Folk Art Museum (Miracle Mile), 1:30–3:30pm. $5–7.
Studio Sunday on the Front Steps, Santa Barbara Museum of Art (Santa Barbara), 1:30–4:30pm.
Free The Voice!, Women’s Center for Creative Work (Frogtown), 2pm. $32–40.
Lecture - Cochineal in the History of Art and Global Trade, The Huntington (San Marino), 2:30pm.
Talk: The Thirtieth Annual Michele and Peter Berton Memorial Lecture on Japanese Art: Bachelors' Passions and Ladies' Crazes: The Gender of Japanism, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 3:30pm.
Performing Wellness With Deborah Seabrook, Women’s Center for Creative Work (Frogtown), 8–10pm. $10–20.
Guitars @ CalArts, CalArts (Valencia), 8–10pm.
Studio: Fall 2017, REDCAT (Downtown), 8:30pm. Through December 11.
El Segundo Holiday Parade, various locations (El Segundo).
Monday, December 11
Holiday Music: Vox Feminae, The Huntington (San Marino), 1–2pm.
SCREENINGS Part of the series The Contenders 2017: Lady Bird, and Q&A with Greta Gerwig, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 7:30pm.
Neighborhoods For All: Tenants’ Rights, Community Participation, & Housing Justice, Women’s Center for Creative Work (Frogtown), 7:30–9:30pm.
Tuesday, December 12
Finding Form and Robert Polidori: 20 Photographs of the Getty Museum, 1997, Getty Center (Brentwood), 10am–5:30pm.
Film: Nocturne, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 1pm.
LAND Annual Holiday Moveable Feast, Carmencita (Hollywood), 6–9pm. $75.
SCREENINGS Part of the series The Contenders 2017: The Big Sick, and Q&A with Kumail Nanjiani, Emily V. Gordon, and Michael Showalter, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 7:30pm.
Wednesday, December 13
Pierre Fatumbi Verger: Mensageiro Dois Mundos, Fowler Museum (Westwood), 7–9pm.
Community Generated Safety—How it works in Gladys Park and Holiday Party, Skid Row History Museum & Archive (Downtown), 7pm.
In Conversation: Thelma Golden and Gary Simmons, California African American Museum (Downtown), 7pm.
How To Have Hard Conversations: Step 2, Constructive Conflict Communication at Work, Home and Everywhere In Between, Women’s Center for Creative Work (Frogtown), 7–10pm. $16–20.
SCREENINGS Part of the series The Contenders 2017: The Florida Project, and Q&A with Willem Dafoe and Sean Baker, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 7:30pm.
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
janhavimishra
Untitled
sxnsmercy-archive-blog
You Dirty Brother Killer
thehealthloft
The Health Loft
psychothreadsvintage-blog
Psycho Threads Vintage
call-me-a-mountain-bird
a mountain bird