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ladyseaheart1668 · 5 years

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Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 43)

Description: There is no rest for the good.

Um...yeah. Hope nobody hates me at the end of this chapter. At least it came out faster than the last one, right? :-P

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @feartheendlesssummer @tigerbryn11

Chapter 43: First Blood

Tahira

The day my life changed, I was late for work. I missed my train and did my makeup on the bench while I waited for the next one. This Thursday morning, I'm late again. And I'm pretty sure that under the circumstances, Grayson will let it slide. In fact, I know he will since he explicitly told me to take the day off. But frankly, I think I'd rather be at work than alone in his apartment, especially when he has to be at work.

I didn't get much sleep Tuesday night after the fire. Unable to safely be treated for any potential smoke or chemical inhalation at the hospital while we were still in disguise, especially with Michelle still on her honeymoon, Dax insisted on dragging us into the lab at Prescott Industries and running tests. Marci had cleared me of any damage long before I even arrived, but Dax wanted to be safe rather than sorry, and Grayson agreed with him, so I relented. Eva took care of checking on the kids, and claimed dog-sitting privileges for herself.

Then came yesterday. That was the real headache, and the real reason I barely slept last night, which is the reason I'm running so late this morning, and nearly took Grayson's advice to spend the day in bed. But here I am, on a bench at the train station, gazing into a compact mirror in my left hand while carefully brushing my eyelids with dark purple eyeshadow.

I hear the soft sound of unhurried footsteps on the platform and feel my heart start to beat faster. It's after ten in the morning, on an open-air train platform, on a weekday, and the next train is due in fifteen minutes. All of these facts should put my mind at ease about who might be coming toward me, but I guess I'm still on edge. I try to ignore it, but then the footsteps stop a little too close to me. I let my gaze slide away from the compact to find Caleb standing over me, arms folded, glowering. I scowl back.

“Can I help you with something?”

“If what happened to those kids is what your help is worth, I don't want anything to do with it.”

I feel myself slumping. I sigh, unable to look him in the eye. “...How did you find out about that?”

“Never you fucking mind how I found out about it. Doesn't even matter that I know about it. The point is that those kids are in foster care. Separated. And you let it happen.”

“I didn't let anything happen, Caleb!” I snap. “I wasn't even there! All I know is that the story somehow came out at the hospital, and one of the staff called social services. ...Once the priest recovers, he'll be able to appeal to get them back. Meanwhile, Dylan and RJ are still together, as are Ysabel and her brothers.”

“That's exactly what they didn't want, and you know it! And how long will it take before they're all back together where they belong?! Most likely scenario, they won't all be back together until Dylan turns eighteen!”

“What do you expect me to do?!” I snarl, getting sharply to my feet.

“Be fucking hero, maybe?” he growls back.

“By what, kidnapping five kids? Because that's sure to keep me in a place where I can do my job effectively!” I lower my voice as I step close to him, drawing myself to my full height. I'm already at least half a head taller than he is, and he knows what I'm physically capable of. I see him shrink slightly, but he doesn't quite back down. “For your information, my people are in pretty hot water with the DA for not turning you over to rot in a Prescott-designed cell for the rest of your life. You want me to risk the situation deteriorating further?”

“You don't need the DA.”

“Actually, I do. Not all of us are content to be anarchists and vigilantes. And if people like us and the police are too busy fighting each other, civilians are going to suffer.” I blow out a frustrated breath through gritted teeth, taking a step back. “...Why do you care so much about these kids anyway?”

His scowl deepens. “Why don't you care more?”

“I care more than I am letting on to you. And I'm probably letting on more than you're willing to see. Caring is what I do. Nobody's surprised when I care. But you've got a reputation that doesn't run toward caring. What about these kids has you so invested?”

He scowls, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You know fuck-all about my life, Tahira. ...We all start out as kids, don't we? Naked, bloody, screaming babies shitting ourselves because we don't know better. We all start off so damn innocent, just looking for someone to protect us and love us. But we don't all get lucky like that, do we.”

I don't really have a reply to that. He's right. What he's saying is correct. And while it doesn't exactly give me a complete answer, it feels like a lead in the right direction. Like Caleb taking a single brick out of his wall and giving me a narrow but significant look at what's underneath. Overhead, the announcement comes over the PA that the next train will be arriving shortly. Caleb turns his side toward me as I glance down the track at the approaching lights.

“...You're lucky, Tahira. You got a mom who loves you. Raised you. Stuck around. Didn't run off. Didn't get taken from you.”

“You're right. I am lucky.” The train glides into the station, sending back a rush of air that lifts my hair off my shoulders. The noise as it screeches to a halt would have swallowed anything else I said, so I wait until it has settled before I send another glance at Caleb. “...My birth parents died when I was a baby. I'm actually adopted.”

As the train doors hiss open, Caleb remains silent. I gather my things and climb on board, not waiting for a reply.

* * *

As expected, Grayson chides me for coming into work today. About halfway through the day, I realize I probably should have listened to him. Can't focus on anything, and it isn't hard to get his permission to leave work early so that I can visit Father Le in the hospital. I stop to buy flowers on the way, a bouquet of calla lilies and pink carnations in a pale blue vase. I get to the hospital and step into a room that looks like it's being converted to a florist shop. Father Le is propped up in bed, his rosary beads in hand, his lips moving languidly as he prays under his breath.

“Father Le?”

He pauses, turning his head to smile at me. “Tahira. Come in. Are those flowers for me?”

“Yeah.” I manage to find a space for them on the windowsill and set them down carefully. “Seems like I'm not the only one who had that idea, though.”

“My parishoners have been very generous. Come sit down.”

I do as he says, taking a chair beside his bed. “I hope I'm not interrupting your prayers.”

“There will be plenty of time to pray when visiting hours are over. ...I understand I have you to thank for saving my life.”

I smile a little. “Yeah, well, don't go spreading that around in here unless I come in costume.”

“Of course. You know your secret is safe with me.”

“...Do you remember anything about the attack?”

“What little I can remember, I have relayed to the police.”

“Right. I shouldn't press you. ...How are you feeling?”

He sighs, closing his eyes. “The doctors tell me I should make a full recovery.”

“You don't sound very happy about that.”

“I'm happy that I'll have my health back. ...But I have been informed that the children were placed in foster care.”

I can't help wincing. “...Yeah. But surely once your recovered you can get them back? Like, I know it wouldn't be easy, but you could apply to be their legal guardian, couldn't you? Now that they're in foster care, I'd think that would be your next move, wouldn't it?” When he hesitates, I can't resist reaching out to grasp his hand. “I mean, you'll try, won't you? For their sake?”

The priest sighs. His free hand comes over to pat mine. “Of course I will try, Tahira. ...But I fear I am unlikely to succeed. ...It has occurred to me that I may have been acting outside the law when I took those kids in. I don't know for sure what charges they could bring against me, but I didn't actually have legal custody over them. And since they already ran away from their first foster homes...”

I swallow against a rising lump in my throat. “...What if I put in a good word for you with the DA? ...Not that I'm exactly in her good books at the moment...”

Concern flashes across his face. Somehow, I know it's concern for me and not himself, and that somehow makes it worse. “Why is that?”

I close my eyes to clear the film of tears that's gathered over them, but only end up letting a couple salty drops leak out. “...I decided to put my trust in someone she thinks needs to be locked up.”

“...Do you agree with her that this person needs to be locked up?”

“I...I don't know. I've been giving him the benefit of the doubt, and so far he's come through, but...what if she's right? What if he's playing me, and he goes back to how he was before?”

“Life is never without hope, Tahira.”

I can't help snorting just a little. “I don't know how helpful that is, Father.”

“My apologies. Try this then: you cannot know the future. You cannot know if a person will change, but every person has the ability to change. Your forgiveness of any past wrongs he did is a gift you give, not because he deserves it, but because you want to give it out of the goodness of your heart. Your trust, on the other hand, is not a gift. It is a privilege that you have every right to make him earn. If his past crimes have earned him a prison sentence, he deserves to serve that sentence. But something has stopped you from handing him over to the police.”

“Yeah. Something has.”

“...Can you name what that something is?”

“Honestly...I have a feeling I can.”

“...Do you feel that you can tell me?”

I am quiet for a long moment. “...No, Father. I don't think I can. Because it's not anything that I think I could make you understand without revealing way more than I should about people whose secrets I have no right to reveal.”

“I don't need to understand entirely. But perhaps telling me what you can will bring you some clarity.”

“...I think he has a part to play in a bigger picture. He's...a part of what I'm a part of. I have to think beyond just laws and authorities. What happened to me that night...the thing that made me what I am...it's got a reach beyond anything I could have fathomed that night. I've learned so much about it since then, and...I need this person, Father. I need him on my side, within my reach. Because he's a part of this.”

“It sounds to me like you've made up your mind.”

“...Maybe I have.” I sigh, standing up. “I should leave you to rest. I have...things I need to take care of.”

“Of course. Thank you for visiting me. I hope I will see you again.”

“Hey, you can count on it. Promise.”

I offer the priest my brightest smile, but I leave the hospital feeling melancholy and exhausted. I feel heavy and too full and hollowed out and empty all at the same time. I just want to go back to Grayson's apartment and have him there with me. I want us to curl up in bed together and shut out the rest of the world. Maybe I should call him and ask him to come home. I'm sure he would. We could spend the evening together, just the two of us, order something to eat, watch a romantic movie, slip naked into the hot tub...

My phone buzzes in the hip pocket of my jeans. I tug it free and see Grayson's name on the screen. I answer, feeling myself smile as I put the phone to my ear.

“Hey, handsome. I was just thinking about you.”

“...Tahira...” Immediately, my heart sinks. Something's wrong. I can hear it in the way he says my name.

“...What is it? What's the matter?”

“Well...Dax has apparently been monitoring police radio frequencies or something...” He sighs. “I didn't know he was doing that. Did you?”

“Well...no. Not specifically. I'm not sure he should be.”

“Neither am I. But, that isn't the point. The point is that he picked up some chatter, and...it seems Dylan and his family have gone missing.”

My heart drops into my belly with a sickening splash. “Missing? Wh-what kind of missing? When were they last seen?”

“Dylan apparently went to pick up the others and walk them home from school, but they never made it back to their foster homes. Later, the police got a tip from a concerned citizen that he had seen five kids get into a black van. He wasn't sure there was anything to actually worry about since the kids got in without hesitating, but...he described the driver as a white male with shaggy brown hair smoking a cigarette.”

It's all I can do not to sink to my knees on the pavement right there. “...Caleb,” I whisper. “Oh god, Caleb, what have you done...?”

Jake

A few weeks ago, Alodia and I hired a photographer to do a little photoshoot for us at the beach house. Something sappy and romantic to commemorate the impending birth of our first child. It was a pretty fun day, even though obviously Alodia proved far more photogenic than me. I mean, I could hardly object to spending most of the time watching my wife posing and being her gorgeous self.

Honestly, in the chaos and emotional rollercoaster that followed in the weeks after, with the wedding and then the disappointment and worry that followed her last OB appointment, I had kinda forgotten about the photos altogether. Until Friday morning, the day I'm supposed to leave to pick up Sean and Michelle from the island.

The other half of the bed is cool when I wake up, but I can smell something mouth-watering downstairs. I inhale deeply through my nose. Yup. Definitely bacon. And coffee. Clearly, Mike or Diego must be up too, since Alodia hasn't touched a cup of coffee since she got pregnant, and I don't think Varyyn has ever liked the stuff. There's something else in the air, too. Something sweet.

I get up and throw on a shirt and a pair of pants, running a hand through my hair before making my way downstairs. In the kitchen, I find the coffee pot three-quarters full and still warm. There's also pitcher of orange juice and a couple of chafing dishes on the counter beside a stack of three plates. I lift the lids on the chafing dishes to find plenty of bacon and pancakes. I sniff at the pancakes, and get a noseful of apple and cinnamon. And that's when I notice the rusty-brown cinnamon and sugar blend in a small bowl beside the dish.

I hear voices from the den. I can't quite make out works, but it's definitely Alodia and Diego. I pour myself a cup of coffee and wander into the den. Diego is lounging on the chaise portion of the sectional with the TV remote in hand. Alodia lies with her head in his lap, a plate of pancakes and bacon balanced on her swollen belly. She's using an upside down laundry basket on the floor beside her hip as a makeshift table for a glass of orange juice and a jar of peanut butter with a knife sticking out of it.

On the screen is an image of her on the balcony overlooking the beach. Her shoulders are bare, her modesty preserved by a white sheet wrapped around her body. One hand holds the sheet closed at her chest while the other cradles her baby bump and she gazes at the sky with a peaceful, contented expression.

“I like that one,” Diego remarks. Alodia wrinkles her nose a little.

“Hmmm...it's not bad, but that one little strand of hair is kinda driving me crazy. It looks like it's going into my mouth and I keep wanting to just brush it off.” She reaches lazily towards the screen, flicking her index finger as if she can will the offending hair off her photographed face.

“I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” I declare. I make my way to the sofa and set my coffee down on her laundry basket table before sitting down and drawing her feet onto my lap. She smiles at me.

“In the picture, or right now?”

“Yes.”

“Good answer. You are rewarded with bacon.” She takes a piece off her plate and holds it toward me. I lean over to take a bite, and look back at the screen as I chew.

“Are these the finished product?”

“Not quite. They're the initial edits of the ones Nora thought were the best. Found them in my email this morning. She wants us to go through and pick our favorites.”

“Of course, if your wife has her way, there won't be any,” Diego complains. “She's found something to object to in every single picture she's in.”

“Not every one!”

“Oh, right, I forgot. You like the one where you're in silhouette and we can't see your pretty face.”

“Just go to the next one.”

I sip my coffee as we go through about a dozen more pictures, and it's made clear that Alodia's going to be pickier about these pictures than I am. There are some she does like. Most of the ones of us together meet her approval, as do a series of very sexy shots with her nude and posed so that nothing actually shows. Though, unfortunately, my favorite in that series doesn't seem to impress her.

“I've got a simper,” she declares flatly.

“A what?”

Diego rolls his eyes. “She means because her lips are parted. Just because your lips are parted doesn't mean it's a simper, Allie. That's not a simper.”

“It is the simperiest simper that ever was a simper!” she insists, grabbing the jar of peanut butter and dunking a chunk of bacon into the brown goo. “It looks like I'm trying to make you believe that I'm moaning all sexily. Look, I'm even trying to give bedroom eyes.”

“Yeah, I'm not seeing the problem here,” I quip.

“You see, Allie? It's a sexy expression that does just what you want it to.”

“I don't like it.”

“Yeah, well, you're drunk on peanut butter. Maybe look at it again when you're sober.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and looks down at me. “Did you get some breakfast?”

“Just the coffee so far. But since you mention it, I am getting hungry.”

“You should eat. We made plenty so you and Mike could get a good meal in you before you fly today.”

I feel a frown crease my forehead. “...You're still okay with me going? I know it's still a few weeks 'til showtime, but...”

“But nothing. You'll be easy to contact, and you're flying to the Caribbean, not Asia.”

“I'll be back tomorrow,” I promise.

“Yes, you will. And we'll be at the airport to pick you up. Now come here and kiss me.”

* * *

After breakfast, Mike, Alodia, Diego, and I pile into the car and Diego drives us to the airport. I'm glad Alodia comes along, even though the trip takes longer than it would otherwise thanks to our unborn child elbowing her in the bladder every twenty minutes. That combined with California traffic means that it takes about an hour and a half to actually reach the airport. But it isn't as if we're flying commercial after all.

The plane is fueled and waiting for us. It's just up to me and Mike to carry out the final checks and get her in the air. Mike gets our things on board—just a small bag each for a couple days away—and I give my wife a lingering goodbye kiss outside the plane.

“I expect this looks very romantic,” she chuckles. “A handsome pilot kissing his pregnant wife outside the plane before he takes off, against a California background.”

“Minus the plane, I'm pretty sure there were some similar pictures from our photoshoot,” I reply. I try to grin, but it isn't coming out quite right. “...I don't like leaving you. Not just because you're pregnant, either. I just...don't like leaving you.”

“I know.” She doesn't need to say anything more than that. She knows why. “I love you, Jake. To the stars and back.”

“No land, no sea, no one can keep us apart. I love you, Alodia.” I drop slowly to one knee in front of her, cradling her belly in my hands, and plant a slow kiss in the center of the swell, just above her navel. “I love you, River. Don't get too eager to come out, okay? Your daddy wants to be here to meet you.”

I gently rest my cheek against her belly and feel a few soft pats from tiny limbs. Alodia winces.

“I think she's a daddy's girl already. Feels like she's trying to get out so you can hold her.”

“No, River, I said not yet!” I scold mildly. “Not until Sunday at least. Give me time to get home and some sleep.”

“I hope she'll wait a little longer than that.”

“Hey, Grandpa!” I get to my feet, turning to see Mike waving at me from the plane. “The sooner we fly, the sooner we can get back, and it's a long way to Santo Domingo!”

I sigh. “Unfortunately, he's right.” I give my wife one last long kiss. “I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, Top Gun. Go on. I think I need to hit the bathroom again anyway.”

We finally manage to untangle from each other's arms and go our separate ways. I join Mike in the cockpit and set about doing my final checks. It's a few minutes before I happen to glance over and notice something grim and distracted in his expression that sends a brief shiver of unease down the back of my neck.

“Hey...you okay?”

“I...got a text from Rebecca.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You getting texts from my sister now? How long has this been going on? Do I have to lecture her about cradle-robbing?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “She's had my number since we sent Lundgren to prison so we could keep tabs on your dysfunctional ass. And how many years are there between you and Alodia again?”

“Ouch. Okay, what's she got to say?”

“Check your phone. She sent it to you, too.”

I'm about to ask what, but realize it would be faster just to pull out my phone and check myself. Sure enough, there's a text from Rebecca to both me and Mike.

Rebecca: Got word this morning, thought you guys should know. Rex Lundgren was stabbed in a prison fight this morning. He's dead.

For a long moment, I can't think of what to say. My first instinct is relief. Even elation. But I can't hold onto that. It's not that I feel any remorse that he's gone. But I haven't forgotten how the same information played out with Rourke.

“...You think it's real?” I ask softly. I know he knows I don't mean whether it's official or if Rebecca believes it. He shrugs.

“I want it to be real.”

“...Lundgren was only in with Rourke on the island out of necessity. He was planning to turn on him in the end...do you really think they'd be working together now?”

“I don't know. I don't know if Rourke could pull the same trick he pulled with Lundgren that he pulled with himself to fake his death. Or...the trick we think he pulled. I can't imagine Lundgren going along with that.”

“Maybe not. Besides, it's not like a prison fight isn't a likely way for him to go, right? He was such a goddamn bully, I'm sure soon as he got in, he started clawing his way to the top of the inmate heap.”

Mike looks over at me. “...You don't have to come. There's enough time to get another pilot to cover for you.”

“...I ain't keen on sending a stranger to the island.”

“I would still be there. I'd keep whoever it was away from the village.”

I do consider the offer, silently weighing the pros and cons. A big part of me thinks I really should stay here. Stay here with Alodia. But I know it would be so much safer not to let strangers on the island. Besides, Alodia has Varyyn and Diego with her, and Rebecca not too far off. I trust them to have her back. I don't really like the idea of Mike making the journey with no one but a stranger watching his. I sigh and reluctantly shake my head.

“I think we're making ourselves jittery. Come on. Let's not leave Sean and Michelle stranded. They got a flight to Tokyo to catch.”

Tahira

My team spends Friday searching for the children, trying to turn up any leads we can, but we're not having much luck. I've tried to reach Caleb using the number he's been calling me from, but it goes straight to a generic voicemail, and the police haven't been able to track its signal either.

“People who don't want to be found have ways of staying hidden,” Eva muses when I express frustration at our lack of progress. “Caleb's been evading the law since way before I even started stealing. And we all know this isn't the first time those kids have run away from foster care.”

She's right, of course, but it doesn't help. They're treating the situation as a kidnapping on account of Caleb's involvement, which doesn't bode well for him. The kids would be considered runaways otherwise, especially given their history. The most comfort I can give myself is to tell myself that they wouldn't have gone far with Eva still looking after their dog. But that even that doesn't help a whole lot, because I don't actually know if it's true.

I can't make sense of how cut up I am about the whole wretched situation. I want to shut myself in my apartment and keep the world at bay, and I haven't wanted to do that since Mom told me I came through the Prism Gate as a baby. Those kids are orphans because of a battle I was part of, but I can live with that. I didn't start that battle, and I did what I could to stop it. But this...what's happening right now...it feels like failure. And failure cuts like a knife.

Jake

It's a little after 7pm local time when we land in Santo Domingo, seven hours later. We'll spend the night in a hotel and then set off for the island tomorrow morning. I call Alodia as soon as we land to check in and reassure myself that everything's all right. I also tell her the news about Lundgren. She takes it...carefully, is probably the most accurate way to describe it. Mostly wants to know how I'm feeling about it. I confess my concerns, and she admits to sharing them. We end up spending about an hour just going on about nothing in particular, just listening to each other speak, reassuring ourselves that we're all right. During that time, Mike and I are able to get to the hotel, check in, order food, and have it arrive. At that point, Alodia admits that she should be getting ready to go to a dance class. Recitals are coming up in May and the costumes are starting to come in. We exchange 'I love you's and reluctant good-byes, and then we hang up. I eat my dinner, watch a little TV, then decide to hit the hotel's gym in an attempt to burn off some nervous energy. I exhaust myself on the treadmill, spend too long in the shower, and finally crawl into bed.

Sleep doesn't come easy. When I do sleep, I have a distressing dream that my sister is dying of some rare disease and she's only got a day left to live, and it happens to be the same day that I'm meeting the half-sister I never knew I had who's the result of an affair my dad had that he never told anyone about, and it all sucks because I'm devastated that Rebecca's never gonna meet her niece, and I'm not sure I like this new half-sister because she's kinda snobby. I wake up sweating, and it takes me a few minutes to convince myself that Rebecca isn't actually dying. And that I shouldn't actually call her right now because it's about 8am here and three hours earlier in California, and if she's not on duty, she's probably asleep. That's when I realize that Mike's bed is empty and I can hear retching from the bathroom, where there's a sliver of light under the door.

“...Mike?” Concerned, I push back the covers and flip on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness. I make my way to the bathroom and tap on the door with my knuckle. “You okay in there, buddy?”

“You want an honest answer?” he croaks back. I open the door and find Mike slumped over the toilet, sweat shining on his ashen skin and soaking through his undershirt. Another spasm goes through him and he chokes something up into the bowl.

“Jesus!” I grab a washcloth from the rack and run it under the tap, wring it out, and press it to the back of his neck.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “That's...nice.”

“Just months ago, I was up with Alodia doing this every morning.” I frown. “But what's going on with you? Did you go get drunk after I fell asleep? Pretty sure you're not pregnant.”

“You're lucky I'm not up for punching you right now,” he scoffs, wincing. “I'm not sure what this is. Something I ate, or some kind of stomach virus. Didn't drink anything last night. Just woke up and I had to hurl.”

I gently ease him upright and put a hand to his forehead. It's clammy with sweat, but it doesn't feel warm. “Don't think you have a fever. Maybe that fish last night was off.”

“Maybe.” He wipes at his forehead. “...Think I'm empty now. ...What time is it?”

“Getting on a quarter after 8.”

He groans. “So no time to sleep it off before we hit the water. Never mind.” He starts to struggle to his feet and I move to brace him.

“You sure you should be getting on a boat if your stomach's off?”

“I'll be fine. If I puke again, I puke again. But I'm sure I'll feel better after I've had a shower.”

“Well...we'll see. I'm gonna go get us packed. You holler if you need me.”

He snorts. “Yeah, like I'm gonna call you to help me shower.”

“I'm serious, Mike. You know I saw worse than your skinny naked ass in the Navy. And if you pass out in the shower and crack your head on the tap, I ain't gonna worry about your dignity. I'll call an ambulance and leave everything on display for the paramedics.”

Mike gestures ruefully at the skeletal bionic legs and feet that descend from his flesh-and-blood thighs. Cutting edge prosthetics that attach permanently and use some kind of advanced robotics to communicate with the nerves that still exist in his thighs. Alodia has speculated that the Endless' right hand was of a similar design.

“Great as these are in general, they don't lend themselves well to showering without a seat most of the time. I won't be in any great danger of slipping.”

“You better not.” I leave him to it, returning to the room to gather our belongings. I don't hear any alarming thumps, but ten minutes later, I realize I can hear him retching again. I knock on the door again.

“Cover up, kid! I'm coming in!” I don't wait for an answer before I push the door open. The shower is still running, but Mike has a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, preserving his modesty.

“Wanted some water to rinse my mouth with. ...It didn't sit well.”

I shake my head. “Well, that settles it. You're gonna stay here and sleep this off while I pick up Sean and Michelle.”

“You can't go out there alone.”

“It's fine. It's just about a three-hour sail there, and then I'll have Sean and Michelle on the way back. I'll have plenty of food, water, gas, and life vests, and if anything goes really wrong, I can call the coast guard. You won't be any use puking your guts up under the Caribbean sun when you can't even keep water down. You know that.”

He sighs. “I guess dehydration in the middle of the ocean wouldn't be very helpful.”

“Damn straight. Stay in here with the air conditioning on and get some rest.”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

“I trust you're gonna know when to panic?”

He rolls his eyes as he gets to his feet, but he does offer a weak smile. “Yes, Grandpa. Now if you're gonna go without me, go. I'm gonna go back to sleep.”

Alodia

Diego drives me to the dance studio on Saturday morning. I'm capable of driving myself, but try telling that to a houseful of loving, overprotective men who saw me dissolve into stardust five years ago not to coddle me when in my last month of pregnancy. I don't begrudge them a little fussing, and letting them chauffer me around inconveniences them more than me most of the time. At least this morning, Diego isn't just dragging himself out of the house to be my driver.

“I've got a few meetings with students on campus,” he explains as we get into the car. “Midterms are coming up, so naturally everyone's starting to get nervous.”

“Midterms for you, recitals for me...remember when we used to experience these things from the other side?”

“I definitely don't miss midterms from the other side.”

“...I kinda miss recitals,” I admit.

He smiles at me as he pulls on his seatbelt. “I have a break around noon. Wanna get lunch?”

“As long as it's somewhere nostalgic. What was that place we used to go when we cut class in high school?”

“Waterfall Cafe. I haven't been there since the last time we went together. I don't even know if it's still open.” A quick check on my phone assures us that it is. “Then that's where we'll eat. I'll pick you up around 12:30?”

“It's a bestie date.”

* * *

I remember costume-fitting days being something close to magical when I was a student. The first time we pulled the costumes on, they were a work-in-progress, straight out of their bags. We endured several minutes of teachers and assistants pinching and safety-pinning fabric, noting where it needed to be let out or taken in. The elastic shoulder straps came attached only at the front of the costume, and they too were pulled snug and secured at the back with safety pins. As soon as we were allowed, we scooted away to do our barre exercises in our glittering tutus. We may have been full of safety pins, without headpieces or stage makeup, but we were getting our first glimpses of how we would appear on stage just a month or two down the line. And in the final weeks before the recital, the costumes would come back complete. As a child, I had no concept of the amount of work that teachers and volunteer parents had put into altering the costumes to make them fit just right, and putting needle and thread to countless elastic shoulder straps. They might as well have been completed by Santa Claus and his elves picking up some extra work in the off-season. All I knew was that after the second fitting, the costume was mine forever.

Of course, now that I'm a teacher myself...

“Hold still a second, Ji-hu,” I say for what feels like the fiftieth time as I try to get a safety pin into the side of his black-and-yellow striped tunic. “Can you hold your arms out to the side for me? Atta boy.”

“Bzzzzzz! I'm a bee!” Ji-hu yells, although his announcement is pretty much lost in the din of a dozen other similar announcements from his classmates who are already decked out in black and yellow stripes. At last, I get him pinned and give him permission to go running out onto the dance floor with his friends. I wipe at my sweaty forehead and rise to my feet, wincing a little.

“Are you all right?” I turn to smile at Olivia, the woman in charge of costumes for the entire studio.

“I'm fine. Knees are just protesting a little. All this extra weight is getting to be hard on the joints.”

“If you need to rest, you can go ahead. You've kinda got the perfect excuse, you know.”

I shake my head. “I'll rest while Vikki's getting them warmed up.” But I can't resist putting my hands to my lower back and stretching backwards slightly. “So, who thought it was a good idea to move the five-year-olds to the early slot on Saturdays, and who thought it was a good idea to give them the Honeybees dance? Not the same person, I hope.”

“Hey, you had your chance to veto the Honeybee idea at the meeting five months ago. Just be grateful you don't have Ivan's class set. His five-year-olds are rainbows, and for some reason, he thought it would be a good idea to let them dance with flags.”

“Oh, god! You can barely trust the advanced classes with props!” I laugh ruefully and sigh, steeling myself for the next one. “Megan, sweetheart? Come here and let me pin your straps!”

Jake

There appears to have been some sort of confusion at the docks regarding the yacht I'm supposed to be sailing to La Huerta. It gets cleared up in the end, and I am finally supplied with the Rourke International vessel I was supposed to have in the first place, but I lose an hour and a half in the confusion. I radio Seraxa to let Sean and Michelle know I've been delayed, and set off from Santo Domingo in a foul mood. I don't arrive at the island until after two in the afternoon, but the journey itself is unremarkable, and the sail calms me down. Sean and Michelle are all ready and waiting for me when I hit the dock, their suitcases already packed and piled up on the platform.

“Ahoy, lovebirds!” I call. “We're running a little behind, so if you guys wanna drag your stuff aboard while I give 'er a little more gas, that would be really helpful.”

Michelle frowns a little. “Is Mike not with you?”

“Oh, geez, did I forget to mention? Mike stayed back at the hotel. He was puking his guts up this morning, didn't think a boat was gonna be the best place for him.”

“You were probably right,” Michelle assures me. “Do you know what the cause is? Did he eat something off?”

“Not exactly sure. He didn't have a fever, at least not as of this morning. But he couldn't even keep water down.”

She frowns. “Well, that'll be concerning if it's still going on tomorrow, but it sounds like it could be as simple as a stomach virus. I'll give him a once over when we get back to Santo Domingo if you guys have time. When's your flight back to California?”

“Nine tonight. Though, worst case scenario, we miss it and call Aleister or Estela for a chartered flight.”

“But let's try not to make that necessary,” Sean remarks, gathering up a couple bags. “I'll take these down below.”

Tahira

I give myself permission to wallow a little on Saturday. I keep my phone on so I can be reached if there's trouble, and I at least shower and get dressed. But I otherwise stay curled up on the sofa in my apartment with hot drinks and finger foods, trying to read or watch TV.

Unfortunately, I can't really concentrate on my book and there isn't much that appeals to me on TV. There appears to be a marathon of superhero movies on my favorite channel, and that's obviously out right now. I try to watch stand-up comedy, but that doesn't get much more than a half-hearted chuckle out of me. I actually spend the longest amount of time on a documentary about the American Civil War, but I have to turn it off when it finally registers that the endless quotes from soldiers' letters are just making me feel worse.

Maybe staying in isn't actually the best idea. Although it takes some effort, I manage to stuff my supersuit into a messenger bag, put on my coat and gloves, and drag myself out of the apartment. I don't know where I'm actually planning to go. Maybe Grayson's apartment? The Grand? Maybe I'll just go for an aimless walk.

I'm about a block from my apartment when my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. It takes a surprising amount of willpower to make myself answer it. Particularly when I pull it out and see that it isn't a number I recognize. Before I became Dragonness, my policy was usually to let unfamiliar numbers go to voicemail, figuring that if it were important, they'd leave a message. But since we officially formed an alliance with the police, Dax has all our calls routed through some kind of service center that scrambles our numbers or something so they can't be traced back to our civilian phones, and in the process, that sometimes scrambles the caller's number too. I summon my energy, and thumb the green button.

“...Hello?”

“...Tahira?” The voice makes my heart wedge in my throat. I know this voice.

“...Caleb?!”

“Hey...”

“Don't 'hey' me! Where the hell are you?! Where have you been?! What have you done?! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?!”

“Uh...are you alone right now? Because I can hear traffic.”

“It so happens that I am out taking a walk, not that it's any of your business. Answer my questions!”

“I will, I will. But not over the phone. ...I need you to meet me where we were both held captive. Come alone. And come as you, not Dragonness.”

I am quiet for a moment as I find a quiet corner to slip into. “Why should I come alone?” I whisper. “Why shouldn't I bring anyone with me?”

“Because I'm asking you not to,” he answers softly. Softly enough that I can hear a note of quiet desperation in him. “Please.”

“...Just tell me this, Caleb: are the children with you?”

“Yeah. They're here. They're safe. Tahira...I'm counting on you to be a hero right now.”

This feels like a bad idea. A very bad idea. But I already know what I'm going to do. “...Hang tight. I'm on my way.”

Diego

“I'll see you Monday, Danielle. Good luck with your other midterms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Soto. See you Monday!”

Danielle gathers up her things and heads out, leaving me alone in the lecture hall where I am holding my classes this semester. Sitting in a rolling desk chair at the computer, I lean back, stretching my arms over my head and giving a good yawn. That was my last meeting of the morning, and it went quicker than I expected. Now it's about time I get ready to meet Allie for lunch. As it stands, I'm probably going to be early to meet her, so I take my time getting myself packed up.

“Diego Soto?”

I look up to see an unfamiliar young man standing in the doorway. He looks about the right age to be a student—and he's dressed like one, too—but I can't say that I've seen him anywhere around campus.

“That's me. Can I help you?”

“I'm Gabe. Gabe Madigan. I'm just visiting this weekend, but I'm gonna be transferring here next semester. They told me you'll be teaching your course again next semester?”

“That's right. I'm here the rest of the school year. You interested in taking it?”

He grins. “Well, yeah. I wanna be a screenwriter, and I'd be pretty insane not to take the opportunity to learn from a best-selling author on storytelling in film.”

“I'm always happy to have another film enthusiast in the class, no matter who they are.”

“Actually, I...” He gestures a little sheepishly at the backpack secured on his shoulders, “I have my copy of your book with me. Could you possibly sign it for me?”

“I'm sure I can spare the time for that.”

I head over to the desk to take out a pen while he takes his bag off to search for the book.

“You know, I was still in high school when all that stuff in the Caribbean went down. You know, the whole thing with Rourke International...”

I pause for a moment before pulling out a chair sitting down. I hold my hand out for the book. “I certainly haven't forgotten.”

Gabe hands me the book. “Is that a sensitive subject? Sorry. I just remember how close my family followed the story. My older brother was a Hartfeld student at the time. He'd entered the Rourke contest. He was pretty pissed off he didn't win. But once the story broke that you guys had gone missing, he actually felt pretty lucky.”

I can't help shifting awkwardly in my seat as I flip the book open to the front cover. “I won't lie. It was a...harrowing experience.”

I put my pen to the inside cover page and scrawl a quick note: “To Gabe: I look forward to seeing you in class next semester. Keep writing! – Diego Ortiz Soto.”

I see Gabe gazing at the array of personal items I have decorated my desk with: the two action figures Vaanu gave me on the island, a group picture of the Catalysts and friends this past New Years' Eve, one of me and Varyyn at our Vegas wedding, and the picture of me and Allie on the first day of third grade—one of the pictures that first heralded her return. Gabe points to that one, his finger hovering over Allie's eight-year-old face.

“Who's that?”

“Believe it or not, that's Alodia Chandler. The student who went missing on that trip and didn't come back for five years. And that kid she's with is me.”

“She's the one you dedicated your book to. So you knew her before the trip?”

“She's been my best friend since we were in diapers.”

“...That must have been hard, losing her like that.”

“It was. It was the hardest thing I've ever gone through. ...For five years, almost everything I did, I did in her name. For the longest time, the only way I could let myself be happy was by reminding myself that she would want me to be happy. So for a long time, any ounce of happiness I could feel was a dedication to her memory...” I trail off, suddenly embarassed at having gotten so personal with a stranger. I close the book and hand it back to him. “But she's home now. And actually, I'm supposed to meet her for lunch soon, so I should get going.” I pull open the desk drawer to retrieve my wallet and keys.

“Alodia Chandler and her Catalysts...”

Every hair on my body suddenly stands on end. My heart starts to thump with alarm and my stomach goes cold.

“...Gabe, where did you hear tha--”

Before I can finish, I am pulled back hard against his body. His forearm presses against my adam's apple, and a damp cloth obscures my mouth and nose. I struggle, but he caught me by surprise, and I'm being held at a distinct disadvantage.

` “You know the problem with you lot—the Catalysts, I mean—is that you're all so...insecure. There's no challenge in exploiting your weaknesses, because you all wear them on your sleeves.”

I reach for my desk drawer. My keys are sitting just there. If I can get them, maybe I can jab them into something soft and sensitive on his body. But he sees where I'm reaching and drags me off the chair with a sharp tug. I feel the ground tilting beneath me as the room starts to swim before my eyes.

“Don't get me wrong, you've all shown marked improvement since she came into your lives. But you were still entirely too responsive to flattery. It makes you vulnerable, being so desperate for praise.”

My vision is starting to narrow, filling with static at the edges. The voice in my ear is becoming distant, overpowered by the rush of my blood against my eardrums.

“Don't worry,” he sings as I start to fade. “You will see her again. As long as she behaves...”

Alodia

My twelve-year-old class is not as out of control about costume-fitting as the four-year-olds, but no one is immune to the excitement of that first look at performance-wear. And as Graceful Willows, their shimmery green costumes are decorated with soft frond fringes that awaken their playful sides. Wrangling them and getting costumes pinned still takes time, and I start to realize about 12:15 that I might not be ready when Diego gets here. About 12:30, as I'm helping the students out of their costumes and carefully putting them back in their bags, I check my phone. No messages from Diego yet, but he's probably on his way. I tap out a text: Hey, things are running just a little overtime here, but I should be out soon.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm still clearing things up and I check my phone again. No new messages, but I don't think anything of it, I just send another text. Just come inside if I'm not waiting for you when you get here. Just getting costumes sorted.

Ten minutes later, we finally finish up. Diego hasn't come in, so I put on my jacket and head outside to the parking lot to look for him. At this hour, between classes, the parking lot is nearly empty. It doesn't take me long to see that Diego isn't here. But Divya Gupta is, sitting cross-legged on a bench, hunched over a book that sits open on her lap.

“Hey, Divya, can I wait with you?”

Divya looks up and smiles. “Sure. My mom's coming to get me, but she's running late. Says traffic is really bad.”

A sense of relief floods through me. If traffic is bad, that's most likely the reason Diego's late. He's also scrupulous about not texting and driving.

“I'm guessing my friend is stuck in the same traffic,” I remark ruefully.

“Is your friend picking you up?”

“Yeah. We're going to go to lunch together.”

“What about your husband?”

“He's away until this evening.”

Divya turns her face toward me, propping her cheek up in her hand. “How long until you have the baby?”

“Oh, not more than a few more weeks.”

“Is it gonna hurt?”

“It will probably hurt some,” I answer honestly. “But there are a lot of ways to ease the pain. One of the advantages to living nowadays.”

“...It's a girl, right? Your baby?”

“That's right. We're going to name her River Skye.”

“That's a pretty name. My grandma says she can't understand why anyone wants to know if the baby is a boy or a girl before it's born. She says it spoils the surprise.”

I chuckle. “My husband's father says it's like opening your Christmas presents before Christmas.”

Divya laughs, then turns her eyes back to the parking lot. “Oh, I think your friend might be here.”

I look up to see a figure crossing the parking lot—and immediately I feel my veins turn to ice. The figure coming toward me is not Diego. She is not a friend. But I know her. I haven't seen her in years. She looks different now, her long dark braid replaced with a stylishly layered cut, and a combination of skintight jeans and a leather jacket taking the place of her high-tech military uniform. But I know her. Familiarity is a deep, bubbling dread in my gut. She smiles.

“Hey, Alodia,” Fiddler purrs.

“...Jeanine.” I'm surprised that my voice doesn't quiver. I speak to her with measured calm. “I wasn't expecting you. I thought Diego was picking me up.”

“He's going to meet us,” she says simply. “We should get going. Don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Not until Divya's mom gets here. I can't leave her waiting by herself.”

“It's okay, Miss Alodia. I'll be all right.”

“No, Divya,” I reply firmly. “I'm your teacher, and until your mom gets here, I'm responsible for you.”

“Oh, it's no skin off my nose,” Fiddler assures her cheerfully, though I'm pretty sure that's bullshit.

We lapse into a tense silence as I draw in a slow, calming breath. I don't know what Fiddler wants. But she's here and Diego isn't, and that's enough to let me know that something is very wrong in this situation. I search for Varyyn's presence in my mind. If I can find a memory close to the surface of his mind, I can slip into it and speak to him directly, the way I did so many years ago at the Vaanti tribunal.

I can feel right away that he is distressed. Even panicked. The most prominent memories are extremely recent and disjointed, but what I can pick up on puts together an increasingly alarming picture:

A phone call. Diego is...sick? Injured? A frantic rush to the hospital. But Diego isn't there. No one can tell him where his love is.

I find a place to plant my psychic projection, in the lobby of the hospital that Varyyn left in tears only moments ago. But in this moment, he is arguing with the receptionist, his fear and distress rising with every word.

“Varyyn!”

He turns to face me. The receptionist, as well as the rest of the hospital lobby's faceless population, continue with what they were doing, going through their motions like recycled animation.

“Alodia! I cannot find Diego! They told me he collapsed at the school, that he was taken to a hospital...”

“I'm pretty sure whoever told you that was lying. Fiddler is alive, and she's here with me.” I hold out my hand to him. “Keep your mind linked with mine, and don't forget anything that is said, do you understand?”

Varyyn, reading between the lines, nods and grasps my hand, his panic quickly replaced with grim determination. With our minds linked, I return to my own consciousness.

“Bye, Miss Alodia!” Divya calls as she trots over to her mother's car.

“Good-bye, Divya,” I manage to call back. “I'll see you next class.” The car pulls away from the curb, and I am left alone with Fiddler.

“So. Are you going to come quietly?”

“Where is Diego?” I hiss.

“Safe. For now. Whether he stays that way depends entirely on you.” She grasps my upper arm, and gives me a subtle but firm tug. “Come with me.”

I go where she's leading me. I'm walking straight into danger, but I don't have any choice. She has Diego. I can't leave him, and in my current condition, I can't fight her. I have to place my trust in Varyyn.

“If you harm a single hair on his head, you're a dead woman, Jeanine. That's a promise.”

“Listen, sweetie. I would love to cut your throat right here. Take out Wolf's skinny blonde hussy and his grubby little brat in one go. But someone's got a lot of stake your crotchfruit, and I've got a good take coming to me if I bring you and it in whole and healthy. But if I can't kill you right now, you'd better believe I'll take a lot of pleasure in breaking you by hurting your little gay puppy in front of you. Now, I don't have to do that if you don't give me trouble. But ask yourself this: how loosely do you think I'll define 'trouble' if it gives me an excuse to watch you suffer?”

I don't have to fake the way my breath quickens at her implications, even if the submission in the way I lower my eyes is a complete lie.

“...I won't make trouble.”

“Good girl.”

She's led me around the back of the building, to a driveway that is rarely used, except by savvy local drivers who know it can be used to illegally avoid a long traffic light about a block away. There is an ambulance parked dead center of the driveway, blocking potential traffic from both ends.

“Now, from here on out, I can't allow you to have any contact with your blue freak friend. Don't worry. This won't hurt your precious cargo. But it is gonna hurt like hell.”

Before I can respond, the palm of her free hand slaps against the back of my neck. Searing pain floods my senses, and then I drop into darkness.

Caleb

Okay, so I may have gotten in a little over my head when I helped the kids run away from their foster homes. I'm not exactly equipped to take care of them, and I don't really know where to send them. The clocktower isn't safe anymore. I doubt this place is going to be safe for long, either. Plus, I'm not exactly thrilled about hiding out in the same place Silas Prescott held me captive. But at least for now, the kids are out of the cold. The first night, I went digging through a few charity basements and came up with enough blankets to keep them comfortable, and I got enough money to feed them for a little while, but it won't last indefinitely. I just gotta hope Tahira will have some kind of plan. I just gotta trust her.

The silence is awkward as the six of us sit on the floor, stuffing our faces with McDermott's. Ysabel and the younger boys got kiddie meals, with the prize inside being action figures from some popular cartoon. I kinda gotta wonder how long it'll be before they start making action figures of Dragonness and her team.

“I miss Zelda!” RJ announces.

“She's safe. Minuet's taking care of her.”

“Yeah, I know, but I still miss her.”

“I don't like it here,” Alex whimpers. “It's cold and scary.”

“Hey, look. It's not gonna be for long. Our friend Tahira is coming. Remember her? She'll know how to help.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, she's really smart and she's Grayson Prescott's girlfriend. Grayson Prescott basically owns this city.”

“It's his dad who owns the city, not Grayson,” Dylan mutters.

“His dad's in jail,” Ysa points out.

“Well, he's not actually in jail,” I correct her. “He's under house arrest.”

“What's that mean?”

“It's like being in jail, except he just has to stay in his house.”

She wrinkles her nose with obvious distaste. “That doesn't really sound like a punishment.”

“Maybe not, but it still means that Grayson's in charge now, so he can help us.”

RJ frowns. “If Grayson's the one who's gonna help us, why did you call his girlfriend?”

“...Eat your fucking chicken nuggets.”

“Don't swear at my brother!” Dylan snaps. I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. Where the flying fuck is Tahira? Finally, my burner phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, I see Tahira's number flashing across the screen. I answer.

“Tahira? Where are you?”

“Caleb...hall...the...hall we escaped from...Hurry...”

Okay...that doesn't sound good at all. Alarm bells are going off in my head like there's a fucking air raid. I quit the call.

“You kids wait here. I'll be right back.”

I take off for the corridor at a run. I'm not sure what I was expecting to find there, but I was right about it not being good. The hall is pretty dimly lit, but I can still make out the figure that is unmistakeably Tahira slumped on the floor against the wall, and the smell of blood is sickeningly strong.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I rush to drop to my knees at her side. “Tahira, where are you hurt? Lemme see...”

Her eyes flutter and she nods weakly downward. Her hands are pressed to the lower right side of her abdomen, where I can see blood pooling between her fingers.

“Think...I'm gonna need you...to be the hero...this time...”

Jake

I mostly leave Sean and Michelle alone. They're still on their honeymoon, and I didn't come here to be the third wheel. I grab myself a beer from the minifridge belowdecks and head back to the bridge to keep an eye on our progress. It's about an hour into our sail that my phone starts to ring. The sound makes my pulse spike, and when I see that it's Varyyn calling, that only makes me more anxious. My first thought is naturally of my pregnant wife, and the possibilty that she's gone into labor while I'm miles away in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. I snatch up my phone.

“Varyyn? What is it? Is it Alodia? Is she in labor?”

“...No...” Varyyn's voice is quivering. “I'm afraid it's worse than that, Jake. ...She and Diego have been abducted. By Fiddler.”

All the blood rushes out of my head. I actually feel myself fall to my knees as my vision tunnels.

“...No...no, God, please. Please, no...”

“Alodia linked her mind with mine just before she was taken, but then...Fiddler did something, and now I cannot reach her.”

I taste bile at the back of my throat. I can't breathe. This can't be happening. “Wh-what does that mean?!” I choke out. “Is she dead?! Did Fiddler kill her?!”

“No. I don't think so. I can almost feel her presence still, but...it's as if there has been a wall put up between our minds. I cannot speak to her, I cannot see where she is.”

“Fuck...Okay.” I shake my head hard, trying to clear it. I can't help Alodia by panicking. “Okay, Varyyn, listen. I need you to call my sister. She'll know where to start. I'm gonna make sure Mike and I got a plane on the tarmac soon as I get back to Santo Domingo 'cause no way am I waiting around for a commercial flight.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I will call Rebecca.”

I don't wait for him to say goodbye before I hang up the phone and climb unsteadily to my feet. Jesus, where the hell did my sealegs go? I still feel dizzy and breathless, and my stomach is threatening to rebel, but I force all that to the back of my mind. How I feel doesn't matter right now. Alodia is all that matters.

“Sean!” I call as I stumble toward the staircase that leads to the lower deck. “Michelle! We got a problem--”

I feel myself stumble and I stagger against the side just as my phone starts to ring again. Mike this time. I answer.

“Mike, we have a problem...” My tongue is starting to feel heavy. It shouldn't be feeling heavy. I've only had one beer.

“Jake!” Mike's voice comes through the speaker as a harsh whisper. “G.Q.! Bingo! Find another port!”

“Mike, Jeanine's alive. She has my wife.”

“Just promise me! Don't come back to Santo Domingo, Jake! Promise—ungh!”

“Mike?!” Only the distant sounds of something shuffling answer me. “Mike, buddy, say something!”

There's another moment of silence. Then another voice comes through the speaker. “Hello, Wolf.”

My blood goes cold in my veins. “...Lundgren...?”

“Surprised? You should know I'm not gonna die while you and Mouse are alive. How ya feeling, anyway? Dizzy? Hazy?”

I grasp the side of the boat, struggling to pull myself up, but my legs seems to be made of rubber. My vision is blurring, the horizon doubling before my eyes.

“Wha...what's...?” I feel the phone slip from my grasp as I slump back to the deck, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. Michelle...Sean...where are they...? Alodia's in trouble...Diego...Mike...I have to...

There's a figure approaching. An unfamiliar figure in an Arachnid uniform. The last thing I am aware of is a man's tenor voice: “We're just about done here, Commander. The wolf's going under. Sit tight. You'll have your prize soon.”

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lamptracker · 7 years

Text

FIC: Love Will Come To You

A request fulfillment. 42, 43, 44 and 45 from this list. They’d asked for angst but with a happy ending. I hope I did alright :)

FIC: Love Will Come To You (title from the Poets of the Fall song of the same name)

Pairing: Reader/Tom Holland. Supporting characters include Zendaya, Jacob Batalon, and Tony Revolori (how come he doesn’t show up in more fics, anyway?)

Word Count: 1,890

Summary: The reader is in the new Spider-Man movie and has a crush on her co-star, Tom Holland; convinced that they’ll never end up dating, she dates other guys instead and gets her heart broken often. Tom can’t stand to watch this.

Prompts: 42. “I gave you everything.”

43. “Don’t you dare pin this on me!”

44. “I’m not blind, I can see the way you look at them.”

45. “Wait. I didn’t mean that. Please come back.”

IT IS SO HARD for me to write angst about Tom! Like I cannot physically write him being a jerk. I’ll get better at it. SO this is what you get.

(Y/n) could hardly believe her luck. Her first major film role - one where she had actual lines and played the lead character’s romantic interest, not some extra walking through the background - was in a Spider-Man movie. She would be acting opposite Tom Holland and Zendaya, and she was super-excited.

She and the cast grew close very quickly. She was worried that she’d be seen as trying to “replace” Laura but they soon adopted her as one of their own.

She had developed a crush on Tom, but she chalked it up to working together closely and playing his love interest. Plus, she had a strict “no dating costars” rule, because that never ends well (so she’s heard). So she chose to date other guys instead.

And boy, did she ever pick some losers.

Every couple of weeks, (y/n) would go out with a guy. One of them she met in a bar. One of them she met at the deli while she and Zendaya went on their Tuesday Girls Only Lunch. One of them was the nephew of one of the gaffers or something.

And every few weeks, she’d come to work sullen, because the guy would break her heart. Bar Guy? Aspiring actor who’d been in the biz for five years and was jealous of her success. Deli Boy? Decided, after three weeks, that she “wasn’t his type.” Gaffer’s Nephew gave her the old George Costanza - “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Her castmates had grown used to it. Jacob Batalon would always offer a hug and buy her a fountain diet Dr Pepper from the nearby convenience store (two of her favorite things - she loves Diet Dr Pepper, and Jacob gives what are possibly the world’s best hugs). Tony Revolori would make up a playlist on Spotify for her to brood to. Zendaya would help her grouse about how dumb boys are during their weekly lunch date. Marisa Tomei would reassure her that she’s still young and has plenty of time to find her soulmate. Harrison Osterfield would always offer to kick the guy’s ass, and Robert Downey Jr. would list off at least three people he knew willing to help him do it (and, since he was in perpetual Dad Mode, he was always one of them).

And Tom would always tell her the same thing: “You deserve so much better than that, darling. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. That div doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

But, secretly, it was killing him to watch her go through it again and again.

Because Tom had fallen hopelessly in love with her.

It was a Friday, on this day, about halfway into shooting. (y/n) had just gotten her heart broken, again. This time, it was a waiter from her favorite Italian place.

“He said he didn’t have time for a girlfriend,” (y/n) moaned to Zendaya, at the craft services table. “But this morning I saw him with a girl at the cafe.”

“That could’ve been anybody,” Zendaya pointed out. “Could’ve been his sister.”

(y/n) scoffed. “I highly doubt he makes out with his sister in public.”

“Ew.” Zendaya perused the selection before deciding on a veggie sandwich and some chips. “Wait, does this mean we’re going to have to find a new Italian place?”

“Unless he gets fired.” (Y/n) grabbed a bottled water and sat at one of the tables. “I just… I thought this one was going to work.”

Zendaya put her plate down and sat across the table from her. “I’m sorry, (y/n). Guys just suck sometimes.”

“Ahem,” Jacob said as he, Tony and Tom approached their table.

Zendaya smiled. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“That’s better.” Jacob sat down on one side of (y/n), Tom on the other, Tony next to Zendaya. “What’s with you today?”

(y/n) sighed. “I got dumped last night.”

“Again?” Jacob dropped his sandwich and immediately enveloped (y/n) in a hug. “Oh, man. I’m so sorry. What was this one’s excuse?”

“He didn’t have time for a girlfriend. And, unless that was his sister he was making out with at the cafe this morning, he was lying.”

“Okay, well, that guy sucks.” Jacob gave her one more gentle squeeze before he released her. “I don’t understand why this keeps happening to you.”

“Me either,” (y/n) sighed.

“I’ll send you a playlist as soon as I’m done making it,” Tony said.

“Thank you, Tony. Your playlists always help. You have such a great ear for new stuff, and you always know just what songs I need.”

Tom sat silently, eating his lunch.

“Oi, Holland.” (y/n) put on her best British accent. “You gonna give me the speech?”

Tom gave her a very small smile. “I’ve given it so many times, you should know it by heart by now.”

“Well, let’s say it together.”

So they did:

“You deserve so much better than that, darling. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. That div doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“I hope,” Tom said, “that there comes a day when I don’t have to give that speech anymore.”

(y/n) looked at him longingly. “I hope so too.”

“Well, this has been fun.” Tom stood up, grabbing his plate. “I need to go look at the script, though. (y/n), you’re coming by my trailer to run lines with me later, yeah?”

“Yeah. Hopefully I’ll be done by 4.”

“Great, see you then.” And with that, Tom was gone.

The four remaining friends sat in silence, eating their lunch. Then, suddenly, Jacob said:

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zendaya said. “We’re just friends. You’re worse than the-”

“Not you, Z. (y/n).”

“Me?” (y/n) asked in surprise. “Um...no.”

“Come on. I’m not blind, I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Jacob smiled.

(y/n) shrugged. “Maybe a little. But I don’t date costars. It never ends well.”

“Could end a lot better than what’s happened recently,” Tony said.

“Could just...not end.” Jacob grinned.

“You could get married,” Tony continued.

“Can I be best man?” Jacob asked.

“Will you name your firstborn after me?”

“Why would they name it after you?”

“Because it can go either way. T-O-N-Y for a boy, T-O-N-I for a girl. They can’t name it after you if it’s a girl.”

“You guys are dingbats,” (y/n) grumbled.

“We’re hopeless romantics,” Tony replied.

Zendaya scoffed. “You’re idiots, is what you are.”

Tony gasped, raising a hand to his chest. “Jacob, darling, I’m feeling so attacked right now.”

Jacob grabbed Tony’s hand. “Let’s get out of here, baby, they don’t understand us.”

“I understand you're a couple of morons!” (y/n) called after them as the two walked off hand-in-hand in mock-offense and Zendaya burst into laughter.

“So, you ready?” (y/n) asked. It was 4:05, and she and Tom were getting ready to run lines.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Tom shot her a smile, and (y/n) immediately got weak in the knees.

“Okay.” (y/n) cleared her throat. “Here goes. Peter, what do you mean you’re breaking up with me?”

“It’s for your own good, Abby.”

“My own good? What does that mean? I gave you everything! Wait, that’s not the….oh. Screwed that line up, sorry.”

“It’s okay, darling, try again,” Tom said soothingly, reaching over to pat her knee.

(y/n) felt her cheeks grow warm. “Okay. Uh...Oh. What does that mean? I gave up everything for you! I gave up cheerleading, Academic Decathlon, everything!”

“I didn’t ask you to do all that. You did that on your own. That was the bed you made. Ugh, what teenager actually says that?”

(y/n) laughed. “I know, some of this writing’s so weird. Anyway...Don’t you dare pin this on me, Peter Parker. I want an explanation and I want it now.”

“I… I can’t, Abby. I can’t tell you right now. But I need you to understand, it’s for your protection.”

“That’s what I don’t understand! What do I need protection from? You know, if you wanted to break up all you had to do was say so. You didn’t need to feed me this line about protecting me. You’re so selfish, Peter.”

“Whatever, Abby. I’m leaving.”

“Wait… I didn’t mean that. Please come back. Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can work it out.”

“Oh, you want to know what the problem is? The problem is, you keep going out there and getting your heart broken and I can’t watch you go through that anymore.”

Confused, (Y/n) peered through her script. “Um, Tom? I can’t… that’s not...where are you? That’s not even in the script.”

“You keep saying you think you found The One. But then he breaks your heart. And I don’t know when or how it happened, but I fell in love with you.” Tom dropped the American accent and started speaking in his normal voice again. “And I want nothing more than to prove to you that I’m better than those guys. I am so in love with you, (y/n). You’re smart, you’re talented, you’re easy to work with and talk to. You’re a great girl, and I want nothing more than to try and give you the happiness you deserve. Please, give me a chance.”

(Y/n) stared at him, mouth agape.

Tom sighed as he ran his fingers through his wavy auburn hair. “Please, (y/n). Say something. Anything.”

She continued to stare at him, trying to piece together what had just happened.

This guy - this amazing, gorgeous, sweet, talented guy. He could have any girl in the world. ANY girl.

And he wanted her.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Tom said sadly. “I ruined this, didn’t I? We were perfectly good friends, and I had to go and open my big fat gob. I’m such a-”

Suddenly, (y/n) stood up, threw her script to the ground, cupped Tom’s face in her hands and kissed him softly.

“Of course,” she said breathlessly when they finally parted.

Tom cocked his head to one side in confusion. “Of course what?”

(y/n) giggled. “I would love to give you a chance. I’ve been in love with you for so long. I don’t know what I was thinking, dating those other losers.”

“You just like it when Jacob buys you sodas,” Tom teased.

(y/n) scoffed. “I bet I could get him to buy me a soda any day.”

Tom wrapped his arms around her waist. “Well, let’s hope he buys the next one under better circumstances.” He kissed her again, more deeply than the last time.

“Tom,” (y/n) said. “Would you like to go get a coffee with me?”

“I’d love to.” They exited the trailer, hand-in-hand. As they headed for the coffee shop, they passed Tony, Jacob, and Zendaya hanging out at craft services.

“Dudes,” Jacob whispered. “Check it out!”

Zendaya squealed with excitement. “Finally!”

Tony smiled. “Looks like i’m making a new playlist.”

“A new playlist?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah. Instead of songs about falling out of love...songs about falling in love.”

Zendaya and Jacob nodded. “I like it,” Jacob said.

“Make sure you put that Ed Sheeran song on there!” Tom called over his shoulder.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader

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8cetera · 7 years

Text

Profess

A/N: This is slightly… more offbeat than usual. I’ve gone back and forth about posting, but under good and appreciated advisement I’m going to press that blue button at the bottom. Not exactly based on anyone, or anything in particular… Just a case of words floating around in my head and putting them on a screen.

It felt warm. Too warm for his liking. The humidity caused the violet satin sheets to cling irritably against his skin. A trickle of sweat forming on the center of his chest caused him to flip the blanket rigorously over and let it fall to the floor. Too much warmth frustrated him as it made him feel inexorably trapped. Restless. As the fabric left his body, he felt a gush of wind over his torso.

No longer feeling as stuffy as before, he sunk into his bed trying to regain the relaxation he had felt just moments earlier. He closed his eyes; reciting mantras to himself that he prayed would help him fall back to sleep.

Minutes passed and he knew that for a fact those prayers were not to be answered. He looked over to peek at the clock on the bedside table.

It read 19:43.

So much for a nap.

He stared at the red digits for a few moments, thinking of the next few hours ahead before swinging his legs off the bed. The soles of his feet landed on the soft cloth that had left his mattress.

He pulled his boxers down, feeling additional comfort now that he had completely rid himself of clothing altogether, and threw it in the romper before entering his bathroom.

Once he was in the shower he turned the knob only slightly, just enough to let the water flow, keeping the temperature of the water cold as it fell onto his skin. His mind was quiet- a rare occurrence. At any given day he always had what seemed like over a hundred things on his mind.

For once he could appreciate the peace.

He grabbed the towel from the rack and patted himself until he was completely dry. Afterwards he faced the mirror and stared at his reflection. The fluorescent light that framed the mirror accentuated every detail and crevice of his body. It also created two small rings in his pupils that always made him feel like he was in a Sci-Fi film.

He craned his neck after noticing a red line that ran from his collar up to the back of his neck. He brought up his hand to trace the puzzling shape and winced when his fingers made contact with it. He repeated the action, more prepared this time around, and lightly dabbed the throbbing scar. He remembered, then, exactly how it got there. Suddenly very aware of his solitude; a chuckle left his lips along with a smirk he knew no one would see.

He ran his hand over the dress shirts that hung in his closet; a range of white, blue and pink lined neatly across the compartment. His fingers halted when he reached the white cotton fabric.

His fingertips lingered atop the wooden hanger that held it while a thought continued to circle his mind; she has often said that she much preferred the blue. He took out the shirt he initially chose, regardless, along with the dark blue blazer that hung at the very end.

He would just have to assert more effort in finding other ways to please her.

The hotel lobby was almost empty; the fact relieved him. He had been there a dozen times; all for the very same purpose. Yet no matter the frequency he always dreaded the time in between the moment he walked through the revolving doors and when he was finally inside the suite.

He lifted his wrist, shaking it a little so that the slightly loose watch fell down closer to the back of his hand for him to glance at.

Half past nine.

He let out a sharp breath. He could excuse tardiness, but half an hour was really pushing it.

Rules.

Always so many rules. He contemplated how much they truly mattered in his life. How could it not? Without rules he couldn’t live the way he lived; couldn’t get away with the choices he made.

He turned his body and took careful steps toward the bar. This action alone was bending the rules. The thought made his skin crawl; the hair at the back of his neck rise. He despised change. Preparedness fueled him. Satisfied him. He prided himself in his meticulousness in planning out every situation as best as he could.

He sat himself on the stool at the far left of the bar and resisted the urge to take out his phone. More often than not in these situations, he was the one that was needed. He much rather keep it that way.

Just as luck would have it, he felt a two-second buzz coming from his left pocket.

A text message.

Another odd occurrence that once again altered the plans for the night. Text message exchanges were not usual. There was simply no reason for them. There was an arrangement, and both parties are expected to be respectful to that arrangement.

He waited a few seconds before reaching into his pocket, already anticipating what the message entailed.

Have to cancel tonight, darling. Talk soon xo

“Damn-” he cursed under his breath, annoyed with himself for the disappointment that he was already trying to keep from escalating within.

Out of all the things he hadn’t planned for, there was one that really stood out at the moment.

He hadn’t planned on being alone tonight.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He looked up from his screen to face the man on the other side of the bar. He felt almost impressed. The bartender didn’t even raise an eyebrow, not a single question about his presence in this… prestigious five star hotel.

On the other hand, what reason did he give for it? Anyone who took just a thoughtful glance at his suit, his watch, the delicate gold chain that circled around his neck would quickly accept that he belonged in a place like this.

If the notion didn’t make him feel a little sad, he might have scoffed at the absurdity of it all. He glanced down at his phone once more and quickly typed a short response acknowledging the message.

“Is the kitchen still open?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Please have a bone-in rib eye prepared black and blue with a side of spinach.”

“Of course. To drink?”

“Sparkling water in a tall glass of ice- when you get a chance.”

He was grateful that the chance came right away because he quickly downed the liquid as soon as it reached the coaster in front of him. The bartender refilled it almost immediately after, and this time it was left alone until his meal arrived.

He was about five bites into savoring the meat when his isolation was interrupted. A woman sat next to him. She was slightly out of breath, as if she had just run a mile. They exchanged a quick glance and she offered a smile before ordering a glass of chardonnay.

His eyes left her form after the initial glimpse and he returned to the task at hand. Despite how close their bodies were, he appreciated that she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

“Were you stood up, too?”

He almost laughed. Spoke too soon.

Once he finished chewing, he lifted the napkin that laid across his lap to dab it at the corner of his mouth.

“Something like that.”

She arched an eyebrow, and not wanting her to press further, he explained.

“It was more of an appointment.”

He saw her glance at her watch.

“At this hour? Surely it was pleasure, not business?”

He stared at the bottles of liquor lined against the back lit wall, trying to choose his next words carefully.

“Both.”

He eyes bore into hers as he said the word, half hoping she would get the hint, not-so-subtle as it was. The message must have translated even a little, because he felt the change in her stature; the way she quickly looked away from him and turned her body slightly so it now faced the table. The slight parting of her lips as she struggled to form a response. He could guess that she was close to giving up as she picked the glass once more to finish its contents.

He offered a short nod, hoping that the revelation might cease the awkward small-talk.

“In that case…” She continued and he closed his eyes, accepting that his silent wishes were not about to be granted.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

She had eyed his empty glass, and he shook his head.

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary-”

He realized that she wasn’t even listening to him as she was already trying to get the attention of the bartender.

“Excuse me, could I have a refill and whatever he’d like-”

She pointed to his direction and her eyes followed suit.

“Vodka? No, scotch- surely?” She seemed so confident that he almost felt guilty for what he was about to say.

“I don’t drink.”

He was used to the expression she was giving him. He was used to it, but he still found it strange. Why did it always come at such a surprise to people?

He shook his head and for the second time that night, he left her speechless.

“What happened here?”

Before he could register her words fully to figure out what she meant he felt her fingers on the side of his neck, mimicking what he had done earlier in his bathroom. He kept completely still. Anyone else might have flinched away from the unexpected skin-to-skin contact. Not him.

He was more than used to another person’s touch. A woman’s touch.

“Occupational hazard.”

Her fingers stilled, and he couldn’t see it but he heard her swallow audibly. After a few seconds she continued, letting them linger down his neck, past his chain until she stopped right above his collarbone where the pink line ended. She kept her fingers there, and he was sure the gradual hastening of his pulse didn’t go unnoticed. Her fingers remained there until the gesture appeared to cause her most discomfort than it did him.

“Is it always this dangerous?”

“No-”

He refuted her statement. Strangely wanting her to understand that he would never associate that word to what he does, that in fact, it was never dangerous at all. Not always. The mark was a result of an exceptional night. An overabundance of heated passion that he was promised would never be repeated.

Lynn.

Bold and elegant Lynn. She and him had come a long way. The first time they met she had spent their entire time together insulting him. Petty remarks about his life choices, the way he spoke, the way he dressed- even the way he smelled.

He left the hotel room with the assumption that it’d be the last time they’d ever see each other, and so he was no less than surprised when he received a call from her the very next day.

By the fourth meeting, the sharp words disguised as insults that fateful night turned into screams of high praises muffled against feathered pillows.

He then thought about, once more, of the night he received the scar. Something was different that night. She was angry about something, he might’ve guessed.

She didn’t explain- nor did she have any reason to.

Her eagerness to rid him of his clothes told him that she only meant to take something from him for her sole benefit. Something only he could give her.

He was always gentle; but he knew exactly when, and how to adapt when the situation called for it.

He was a responsive lover; when she held him tighter- so did he. When she grazed her teeth over the softest parts of his flesh- so did he. When she pushed deeper against him, making both their bodies and the bed shake beneath- so did he.

They laid on their backs, trying to regain their breathing to the level before they locked eyes. A smile began to form on both their lips, and then she looked up at him. The faint beginnings of the smile disappeared when she noticed the crimson line she was responsible for.

In the next moment she brought herself up to sit below his waist, bringing the covers along with her to hide herself from his gaze. Any traces of the aggression from before was long gone. All he could see then on her face were tiredness, contentment, and a plea for something she desperately wanted him to offer. He pulled the sheets off of her, but his gaze on her intensified, making her lips part before him.

He could tell she wanted to find the words, but instead of giving her a chance to locate them he pressed his lips against hers, deciding right away that he would much rather give her what she needed instead.

“No. Not always.” He said in a much quieter tone, looking at her as he said it.

Memories of different nights began to reveal themselves. Nights of only soft sighs of relief, and laughter even. Nights of peace where he would end them with his arms wrapped around a warm body.

Ana.

Sweet, gentle Ana. Her husband had been gone for eight years. She found him after five, after realizing that she could never bring herself to love another the same way.

Ana would cry every time their bodies tangled under soft sheets. The first time it happened he panicked. He tried to separate himself from her right away, insisting that this was not the right thing to do- but she hushed him; whispering words that expressed both remorse and pleading demands.

He still hesitated, but when when he noticed her glossy eyes and quivering lips he found himself unable to do nothing else but try to relieve them. Even when he told her she didn’t need to, she would always tell him how grateful she was. Almost as if she didn’t deserve it. He would try to dismiss her doubts with kind words. With caresses. But they were never enough.

To this day she utters her husband’s name whenever they laid together. He never corrected her. In return, he made it a duty to discover what she liked. What made her heart flutter. It wasn’t long before he discovered that it was combing his fingers through her hair, sneaking quick kisses on her temple right before they fell into slumber, and reciting French poetry from a pocket book she always carried in her purse.

It had been the last anniversary gift she received from her late husband.

Some nights he wondered if she had ever caught the tears falling from his eyes, too.

He cleared his throat after ceasing his train of thought. He unbuttoned one more top button on his shirt and tore his gaze away from hers. He ran his palm over his mouth and jaw before standing abruptly, feeling strangely exposed.

His chest began to tighten and he didn’t appreciate the sensation in the least bit. He took out his leather wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a single bill that was far larger than necessary to cover the amount due.

He excused himself from the woman in front of him and just as he began to leave he felt her hand wrap around his shoulder. The gesture surprised him but her impertinent, caring gaze was more than familiar to him. He had seen the look so many times that he might’ve known what it mean even before she did.

Desire.

If it were another night, he might have permitted them both a chance to explore it- but not tonight.

“I don’t even know your name-”

His mouth curved slightly and without giving it a second thought he lowered his head until his lips brushed her cheek. He lifted it slightly until he could see her eyes and removed her hand tenderly from his arm.

He left her then, and didn’t look back.

#writing #original story #short story #one shot #writings

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sowhatisthisfor · 7 years

Text

My favourite films of 2016

For 2016, I was able to watch 197 movies. Here are the 50 best films I’ve seen in 2016 (I have weird taste in films, I am told):

Top 50:

50. Rosita [Frederikke Aspock, 2015, Denmark]

a momentous character-driven drama on relationships & sacrifices shown through natural & credible performances. 8/10

49. Un Homme Ideal [Yann Gozlan, 2015, France]

a film spectacularly structured, it’s both suspenseful and unpredictable. 8/10

48. Neruda [Pablo Larrain, 2016, Chile]

Virtually poetic, contextually lyrical. 8/10

47. Mon Roi [Claire Maïwenn, 2016, France]

With a narrative so hard to withstand, the riveting performances of Bercot and Cassel made this a must watch. 8/10

46. 10 Cloverfield Lane [Dan Trachtenberg, 2016, United States]

It’s wicked in a way that’s perfectly good. 8/10

45. Rogue One: A Star Wars Story [Gareth Edwards, 2016, United States]

If only for its third act, this is already worth every penny. 8/10

44. Purgatoryo [Derick Cabrido, 2016, Philippines]

Reminds me a lot of ‘Oros’ only with some serious technique and distinct visual style. 8/10

43. Theeb [Naji Abu Nowar, 2015, Jordan]

For a newcomer, Nowar is a delightful surprise and so is Eid who did perfect in this film. 8/10

42. Elle [Paul Verhoeven, 2016, France]

has one of the most intriguing antihero characters played perfectly well by Huppert. 8/10

41. Don’t Breathe [Fede Alvarez, 2016, United States]

Alvarez has some serious skills to make this suspenseful with only a blind villain inside a small house. 8/10

40. The Conjuring 2 [James Wan, 2016, Untied States]

I guess I just can’t really be scared of something this good. No dull moment. So human. Much love for this. 9/10

39. Tuos [Derick Cabrido, 2016, Philippines]

Visually alluring with winning performances, it’s almost hypnotic. 9/10

38. I’ll See You In My Dreams [Brett Haley, 2015, United States]

So true about the death I know and the death I don’t know. So true about everything actually. 9/10

37. Green Room [Jeremy Saulnier, 2016, United States]

a lot of fun, tension, blood, and cinematic excellence. My type of film, really. 9/10

36. Veloce Come Il Vento [Matteo Rovere, 2016, Italy]

Funny, gripping, touching. I enjoyed every single moment of it. 9/10

35. Mercury is Mine [Jason Paul Laxamana, 2016, Philippines]

Quite a reflection of colonial mentality and the acute patronage of the superficial. 9/10

34. Goodnight Mommy [Veronika Franz, Severin Fiala, 2015, Austria]

As cold and effective as it aims to be. 9/10

33. Sakaling Hindi Makarating [Ice Idanan, 2016, Philippines]

In w/c you try to find yourself in far-flung places, & in doing so found someone equally lost. 9/10

32. Saving Sally [Avid Liongoren, 2016, Philippines]

Is the freshest and has the most creative visual style I’ve seen in a long long time. I want more of it. 9/10

31. Oro [Alvin Yapan, 2016, Philippines]

Shows oppression and lopsidedness in equally lopsided frames. Amazing set of cast. 9/10

30. The Wailing [Na Hong-jin, 2016, South Korea]

An exhausting watch with an even more incredibly vexing inner context. 10/10

29. Grandma [Paul Weitz, 2015, United States]

I love the story, I love how it unfolds, and I love how it will live in me for sure. 10/10

28. The Survivalist [Stephen Fingleton, 2015, United Kingdom]

A long-lived representation of how people choose to risk their survival for fidelity and solicitude. 10/10

27. The Kids [Sunny Yu, 2015, Taiwan]

an engaging portrait of a struggling young couple’s journey to parenthood told convincingly well. 10/10

26. Guernica [Koldo Serra, 2016, Spain]

a little too overscored, but really great overall. 10/10

25. Kubo and the Two Strings [Travis Knight, 2016, United States]

has a heartfelt storytelling of the melancholic nature of humanity. 10/10

24. Apprentice [Boo Junfeng, 2016, Singapore]

Draws the line between showing compassion & battling own conscience. Gripping, I feel hands around my throat. 10/10

23. Embrace of the Serpent [Ciro Guerra, 2015, Germany, Spain]

I got lost somewhere its visual hypnotism, but it’s great overall. 10/10

22. Son of Saul [László Nemes, 2015, Hungary]

This film has a breathtaking power no one can doubt. 10/10

21. EDSA [Alvin Yapan, 2016, Philippines]

Is a number of things. It’s socially relevant, a moral challenge, a visual feast. Most simply one of the bests. 10/10

20. Mustang [Denzi Gamze Ergüven, 2015, Turkey, France]

Brutal in its authenticity. Something I want to hate but can’t. I’m happy to have seen this film. I really am. 10/10

19. Hele sa Hiwagang Hapis [Lav Diaz, 2016, Philippines]

Reality told through a mix of history & fantasy. A delicate & engaging quest for Filipino freedom. 10/10

18. Pamilya Ordinaryo [Eduardo Roy, 2016, Philippines]

Very raw, real and persuasive. Powerful in its entirety. 10/10

17. Sing Street [John Carney, 2016, United Kingdom]

No, there’s not a word in the world that could describe how much I love this film. Everything about it. 10/10

16. Captain America: Civil War [Joe Russo, Anthony Russo, 2016, United States]

it’s hard to point out which part of the film I didn’t like, that’s if I hated anything. 10/10

15. Frantz [François Ozon, 2016, France]

a melancholic take on people’s journeys to finding a reason to live. Beautiful use of color and B&W. 10/10

14. Sunday Beauty Queen [Baby Ruth Villarama, 2016, Philippines]

Highly-engaging, charming, touching, and senseful. Sweetest of the festival. 10/10

13. Respire [Mélanie Laurent, 2015, France]

With its overall well-observed direction, it’s compelling both visually and story-wise. 10/10

12. Embers [Claire Carré, 2015, United States]

A stylistic post-apocalyptic narrative of survival of people who have lost their meanings. 10/10

11. Train to Busan [Yeon Sang-ho, 2016, South Korea]

When everyone’s becoming a monster, humanity is the way to survive. Fast-paced. Thrilling. Heartfelt. 10/10

10. Ang Manananggal sa Unit 23B [Prime Cruz, 2016, Philippines]

If I can only use “beautiful” once a year to describe a film, I’ll use it on this one. 10/10

9. Seklusyon [Erik Matti, 2016, Philippines]

a thought-provoking jewel on the corruption of divinity and an examination of people’s inner evils. 10/10

8. Anino sa Likod ng Buwan [Jun Lana, 2015, Philippines]

Gripping, tender, sensual. Majestic in one long take. Saying I’m blown away is an understatement. 10/10

7. Toni Erdmann [Maren Ade, 2016, Germany]

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry or both at the same time. No doubt a knockout. 10/10

6. Swiss Army Man [Daniel Scheinert, Dan Kwan, 2016, United States]

Clever in all its weirdness. What an unforgettable experience. 10/10

5. Ang Babaeng Humayo [Lav Diaz, 2016, Philippines]

vividly questions justice, higher power, morality, and existence. It’s beyond brilliant, it aches. 10/10

4. The Salesman [Asghar Farhadi, 2016, Iran]

Farhadi always has his way of shaking your soul, giving his audience a silent yet thrilling ride. 10/10

3. Women of the Weeping River [Sheron Dayoc, 2016, Philippines]

a film about a generational blood feud, and also a metaphor for the uneding armed conflicts in Mindanao where the vulnerable is the most at risk, and the strong isn’t really unbreakable. It has one of the most beautiful endings I’ve seen this year where it subtly concludes that in war, no one really ever wins. 10/10

2. The Lobster [Yorgos Lanthimos, 2016, Ireland, Greece, UK, France]

a peculiar take on the world’s social construction of reality. Far-out yet accurate, it’s captivating. 10/10

1. The Handmaiden [Park Chan-wook, 2016, South Korea]

Lavish, sensual, beyond clever. Having watched and read Fingersmith won’t make this gem a tad predictable. Park Chan-wook’s adaptation even exceeded my expectations. 10/10

Watch The Handmaiden’s trailer below:

youtube

Full list of the films I watched in 2016

My top 50 movies for 2015

Top 35 for Filipino films:

Women of the Weeping River

Ang Babaeng Humayo

Anino sa Likod ng Buwan

Seklusyon

Ang Manananggal sa Unit 23B

Sunday Beauty Queen

Pamilya Ordinaryo

Hele sa Hiwagang Hapis

EDSA

Oro

Saving Sally

Sakaling Hindi Makarating

Mercury is Mine

Tuos

Purgatoryo

Dukot

Ned’s Project

The Third Party

Ignacio De Loyola

Curiosity, Adventure, Love

Always Be My Maybe

Ma’ Rosa

Baboy Halas

Mrs

Buhay Habambuhay

Vince and Kath and James

TPO

Kusina

Hiblang Abo

123

Die Beautiful

Patay na si Hesus

How To Be Yours

The Achy Breaky Hearts

Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 2

#movies #films #film

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High Noon’s Pablo Torre and Bomani Jones preview 2018-19 NBA season dramas

This season, all of your screens can be tuned to the NBA. It is showtime! Eric Heintz

This story seems in ESPN The Journal’s NBA Preview challenge. Subscribe at present! Watch Pablo S. Torre and Bomani Jones debate hoops day-after-day on “Excessive Midday.”

This is a riddle: If the Warriors profitable a title is a foregone conclusion, why has the NBA by no means been extra in style? Reply: As a result of the NBA is not only a basketball league — it is a community of 30 status tv dramas. The spats! The rumors! The infighting! The subtweets! Whiteboard-smashing! Crotch-kicking! Gamers-only conferences!

So this 12 months we’re treating the approaching NBA season as what it actually is, by discovering the TV drama on the coronary heart of every crew and rating all 30 by how must-watch they are going to be. Will the Lakers be nice? Actually not! However they will be the highest-rated 7-seed ever. Will Houston’s offense be higher with Melo? No means! However, hey, tragedy is the brand new comedy. Can the Sixers persist with the script? Will OKC’s buddy comedy click on? Will the Warriors bounce the shark?

With that in thoughts, we provide the 2018-19 NBA season, TV-guide-style.

Is there any Stranger Factor than what the Lakers did this summer time? Is there anybody Leftover in Cleveland? Did we simply flip all 30 NBA groups into TV dramas? Sure … sure, we did.

With the fates of a number of All-Stars up within the air, can Draymond Inexperienced preserve the Warriors dynasty going?

After a knee harm derailed 12 months 1 in Boston, Kyrie Irving is again to interrupt extra ankles. This is what we drew as much as highlight why he would possibly simply have the very best handles within the NBA.

2 Associated

No. 1: Los Angeles Lakers

It is an ensemble solid that would result in excessive jinks. However neither Magic Johnson nor LeBron James is right here for jokes. The Lakers aren’t a contender, however Michael Beasley is correct … not less than about his teammates. Rajon Rondo, Lance Stephenson and JaVale McGee have performed huge minutes in huge video games. They will win. It is simply extra enjoyable to observe once they do not. –Bomani Jones

The Quote: “If everyone … stops judging some gamers, me primarily, you may determine that guys like me and … Lance know the right way to play.” –Michael Beasley, to the LA Occasions

The Quantity: 26 (Groups that Stephenson (7), Beasley (7), Rondo (6) and McGee (6) have performed for)

No. 2: Toronto Raptors

Staff president Masai Ujiri has eight months to make the relentlessly silent Kawhi Leonard fall in love with him, which seems like each a rom-com and a horror film. Think about if Leonard winds up worse than DeMar DeRozan, the beloved spokesman Toronto shipped out for him. Way more heartrending, although, is the extra probably actuality: Leonard is each bit the celebrity the Raptors have lusted after — however he nonetheless loves LA. –Pablo S. Torre

The Quote: “We do not wish to be those which might be felt sorry for anymore. We wish to belong.” –Masai Ujiri

The Quantity: 263 (Raptors’ wins since 2013-14, Ujiri’s first season as GM, fourth greatest within the league)

No. Three: Minnesota Timberwolves

If Karl-Anthony Cities and Andrew Wiggins actually need Jimmy Butler gone, it is an indictment of them. Butler’s presence made the Wolves one of many higher groups within the West, and his absence virtually stored them out of the playoffs. Butler has to go, however you have to surprise what it says when the Wolves wish to construct round two guys who appear pleased with getting worse. –B.J.

The Quote: “Ain’t no coach on the earth that may make any person play exhausting. Ain’t no coach on the earth that may make anyone need it.” –Jimmy Butler

The Quantity: 47 (Wolves’ wins final season, their most since 2003-04)

Houston’s plans for toppling the Warriors rely closely on how Melo will slot in with the crew’s well-oiled offense. Troy Taormina/USA TODAY Sports activities

No. four: Houston Rockets

In case you ever come throughout a time machine, contemplate going again to 2012 and telling Mike D’Antoni and Carmelo Anthony they’re going to be collectively in 2018. D’Antoni straight up give up the Knicks due to Anthony, who rejected his offensive scheme. However in Houston, which hungers for one more scorer, the scheme is totally different: environment friendly however remarkably iso-heavy. Enter Anthony, who not less than stays the latter. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “Whether or not he begins or does not begin — and he mentioned it — is a moot level.” –Mike D’Antoni, to The Houston Chronicle

The Quantity: 12.7 (Anthony’s PER final season, the worst of his profession)

No. 5: Washington Wizards

This is how this would possibly go proper: Scott Brooks managed the chemistry round Russell Westbrook and Kevin Durant for years; it is the very best factor he did whereas he was in OKC. However what occurs when John Wall, the one man who desires to play with Dwight Howard, is the man the opposite Wizards do not appear to wish to play with? –B.J.

The Quote: “I do know I am a crew participant. I common virtually 10 assists a recreation. I am very prideful to find my teammates and getting guys simple pictures.” –John Wall

The Quantity: 7.9 (Drop in Wall’s web ranking final season when enjoying with out Bradley Beal)

With Kawhi Leonard gone, how for much longer will the Pop period final in San Antonio? Soobum Im/USA TODAY Sports activities

No. 6: San Antonio Spurs

Zoom out on NBA historical past and Gregg Popovich has nothing to fret about. Zoom in on San Antonio, although, and also you see nervousness in all places. Kawhi Leonard and Tony Parker are gone. Manu Ginobili retired. Pop nonetheless hasn’t missed the playoffs since his first 12 months, over 20 years in the past. However now, at 69, retirement looms. A technique or one other, a historic run can be over quickly. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “I’m not too curious about speaking in regards to the previous. I do not even wish to discuss Tim Duncan.” –Gregg Popovich

The Quantity: 9 (Gamers to win a number of Defensive Participant of the 12 months Awards, together with Leonard)

No. 7: New Orleans Pelicans

The Pelicans lastly bought a second star to pair with Anthony Davis, however the crew was truly higher after DeMarcus Cousins bought damage. Cousins is now within the Bay, and Davis has a participant choice in 2020. How good should the Pelicans be this season to cease Davis from exercising his free company choice two summers from now? –B.J.

The Quote: “You are questioning for those who’re following in that very same path.” –Anthony Davis on Kevin Garnett, who bought a hoop in Boston after exiting Minnesota

The Quantity: 27.1 (Davis’ PER since 2013, trailing solely LeBron and KD)

No. eight: Portland Path Blazers

The Blazers have hit their ceiling. Damian Lillard aired grievances to possession. If the Commerce Machine have been a jukebox, CJ McCollum could be “Free Hen.” The 2 guards are gifted scorers who give items on protection. So if madness is doing the identical factor over and over however anticipating totally different outcomes, the query now’s easy: Does Portland like being insane? –P.S.T.

The Quote: “It isn’t like we’re a vacation spot. It is robust to get gamers.” –Damian Lillard

The Quantity: -2.42 (Mixed defensive RPM of Lillard and McCollum)

Will the Paul George-Russell Westbrook buddy comedy have a cheerful ending? Layne Murdoch/NBAE by way of Getty Photos

No. 9: Oklahoma Metropolis Thunder

We will now not say, “Nobody desires to play with Westbrook.” And whereas watching Russ take 43 pictures in a Recreation 6 loss to Utah might need infuriated some, it made us neglect that Paul George was terrible that evening, with 5 factors on 16 pictures. Westbrook must share the ball — however George should give him motive to take action. –B.J.

The Quote: “I do know who I’m as a participant. I simply wish to assist a crew win, and I really feel snug doing that with Russ.” –Paul George

The Quantity: 20.2 (Westbrook’s subject aim makes an attempt per recreation over the previous seven seasons)

No. 10: Golden State Warriors

All that hubbub about including DeMarcus Cousins is previous information. The NBA’s most widespread rumor now facilities on the Warriors’ most infuriating luxurious. Spoiler alert: Kevin Durant is destined, allegedly, to depart Golden State for NYC. The Warriors could not want KD to remain dynastic. However we’ll learn how badly they wish to preserve him. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “Draymond most likely had the worst pitch. He was like, ‘Cous, I am fairly certain me and you will battle.'” –DeMarcus Cousins

The Quantity: 118.5 (Factors per 48 minutes the Warriors scored final season with Durant on the ground. With out: 105.6.)

No. 11: Philadelphia 76ers

Why do issues really feel so unsure with the Sixers? Their greatest participant’s quote about his new GM was that he used to dunk on him. Their two No. 1 picks have been scared to shoot jumpers final 12 months. And final season’s efficiency has created the expectation that the crew will make a giant leap. Shaq and Penny had solely three years collectively. Identical for Durant, Westbrook and Harden. The long run is now. –B.J.

The Quote: “It was hurtful due to the stuff that was mentioned. However on the finish of the day, I do know who I’m as an individual, as a participant.” –Joel Embiid on the burner accounts tied to Bryan Colangelo

The Quantity: +7.zero (Philly’s plus-minus per recreation with Embiid and Simmons each on the courtroom final season)

No. 12: New York Knicks

One enjoyable factor about being a Knicks fan: Expectations are so low that primary speaking factors sound revolutionary. So thanks, David Fizdale, for speaking protection and a long-term rebuild. No, Kristaps Porzingis is not wholesome. No, the Knicks do not know whether or not he’ll be again this season. And if he is not? Properly, uh, have you ever heard that rumor about Durant? –P.S.T.

The Quote:“I have been instructed every little thing from December to him being out for the season, so I do not know what to anticipate.” –Proprietor James Dolan on Porzingis, to the NY Put up

The Quantity: 821 (Knicks losses since 2001-02, most within the NBA)

No. 13: Milwaukee Bucks

What, we’re kicking Freaky Greeky out already? With an interim coach, the Bucks pushed Boston to seven within the 2018 playoffs. Now, with Coach Bud operating a roster of long-armed defenders, it is all about preserving Giannis pleased. The query is the right way to land a second star, as a result of not many guys find yourself in Milwaukee as a result of that they had different choices. –B.J.

The Quote:“[Antetokounmpo] is an icon in a small metropolis with a world attraction. … Greater than 50 % of our digital visitors is from exterior the U.S.” –Bucks president Peter Feigin, to 60 Minutes

The Quantity: four (The Bucks’ longest profitable streak final season)

Cleveland’s hopes this season relaxation on Kevin Love’s shoulders. Andrew D. Bernstein/NBAE/Getty Photos

No. 14: Cleveland Cavaliers

Like a No. 23 Cavs jersey on a clearance rack, the Cavs at the moment are ignored, miserable and closely discounted. Cleveland already is aware of to count on tumbleweeds in Quicken Loans Area. A wholesome Kevin Love would possibly even assist them transfer on. However J.R. Smith, nonetheless employed, stays a metropolis’s sorrowful reminder: Don’t take your time with LeBron with no consideration. Particularly within the Finals. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “Now it is going to be on my again in a whole lot of methods, and I am prepared for it.” –Kevin Love, to Cleveland.com

The Quantity: 59 (Video games Love performed final season, his fewest since 2012-13)

No. 15: Charlotte Hornets

It is the 15th 12 months of the Bobcats/Hornets era-and what’s there to indicate for it? They’ve by no means had the primary choose throughout that point or a basis that appeared like the start of a contender. Buying and selling Kemba Walker will not web anybody higher than he’s, and we have seen what they’re with him as their greatest participant. The Hornets are neither good nor unhealthy sufficient to really rebuild. –B.J.

The Quote: “I like Kemba Walker. I might not commerce him for something however an All-Star participant.” –Michael Jordan, to The Charlotte Observer

The Quantity: 9,907 (Factors that Walker, 28, has scored for the Hornets, a franchise excessive)

No. 16: Memphis Grizzlies

As soon as upon a time, “Grit and Grind” was a great slogan for this crew’s prideful physicality. Now the motto is much less about what the Grizzlies do to their opponents and extra about what Grizzlies followers do to their tooth. The excellent news is that Marc Gasol and Mike Conley are wholesome. The unhealthy information? They’re 33 and 31, respectively — and most helpful as commerce bait. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “I get it, you need Gregg Popovich … and I need LeBron James.” –Former coach David Fizdale, to Marc Gasol, in keeping with the New York Each day Information

The Quantity: 28 (Memphis’ rank in tempo in every of the previous two seasons)

No. 17: Miami Warmth

Pat Riley is all the time in cost. If Riley may deal with Charles Oakley and Anthony Mason, and if Shaq, Dwyane Wade and LeBron could not muscle the person, then Hassan Whiteside won’t ever scream loudly sufficient to get his means, and Dion Waiters will simply should fall in line whether or not he likes it or not. –B.J.

The Quote: “Stuff occurs, issues are mentioned, gamers are annoyed.” –Pat Riley, to the South Florida Solar Sentinel

The Quantity: 7.Three (Lower in minutes per recreation Whiteside performed final season vs. the season earlier than)

No. 18: Sacramento Kings

As org charts go, there is not any outdoing the one-two punch of Kings proprietor Vivek Ranadive and GM Vlade Divac. An optimist would name their stockpiling of huge males and divestment of wings “countercultural.” A realist would surprise in the event that they’re elaborately tanking. The query is not if the NBA’s longest-running playoff drought will hit a 13th 12 months. It is how bizarre it’s going to get. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “My crew is a superteam, simply younger.” –Vlade Divac, by way of ABC10 in Sacramento, after drafting Marvin Bagley III

The Quantity: 9 (Coaches since ’05-06, their final postseason journey)

No. 19: Detroit Pistons

There is perhaps a ceiling on these Pistons, but it surely’s by no means unhealthy to have two actually good, actually huge guys on a basketball crew. Quietly, Blake Griffin shot 5.6 3s per recreation final season, making 34.5 %. That will not flip the Pistons into the Warriors, but it surely’s credible-which is all his shot must be. –B.J.

The Quote: “My aim for [Griffin] is to be the very best passing energy ahead within the league, which he can do.” –Coach Dwane Casey, to Vice Sports activities

The Quantity: +92 (Andre Drummond’s +/- swing enjoying with Griffin)

Will Luka Doncic be the Mavs’ latest wunderkind, or an overhyped flop? AP Photograph/Cooper Neill

No. 20: Dallas Mavericks

No stress, Luka Doncic. All it’s a must to do is take the torch from Dirk Nowitzki, promote tickets instantly, be definitely worth the commerce for Trae Younger and a 2019 first-rounder, justify these European accolades and assist followers neglect the office sexual harassment scandal that resulted in your proprietor getting grilled on The Leap. Then, and solely then, could you flip 20. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “In case you suppose he is a game-changing participant for you, a franchise-changing participant, you do not care about your subsequent choose. You simply need that participant.” –Proprietor Mark Cuban on Doncic

The Quantity: 31.75 (Doncic’s regular-season index ranking, a EuroLeague metric for quantifying a participant’s whole efficiency, the best there in a decade)

No. 21: Boston Celtics

What was a set of fairly good gamers is now two dominant scorers, two two-way wings, an ideal huge man who’s additionally their greatest passer, and a deep bench. However is it the long run but? The Celtics are ok to make the Finals now. What are they prepared to do to win them before later? –B.J.

The Quote: “Everyone has a job to do. Brad’s job is to handle enjoying time and handle all kinds of stuff. That is why he is the coach.” –Jayson Tatum, to Boston.com

The Quantity: four,590 (Mixed ’17-18 minutes for Tatum and Jaylen Brown of their age-19 and age-21 years)

“If the Commerce Machine have been a jukebox, CJ McCollum could be ‘Free Hen.'”

No. 22: Chicago Bulls

Fred Hoiberg was as soon as nicknamed the Mayor; he actually acquired write-in votes throughout the 1993 mayoral election in Ames, Iowa. However in Chicago, the Mayor’s approval ranking has hit an all-time low. The Bulls had hoped Hoiberg was a guru; what they bought was 110 wins in three seasons. There ought to be an offensive revolution coming. It simply may not be the sort the Mayor survives. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “I believe for those who devour your self with [job security], you are going to have a troublesome time doing all your job.” –Fred Hoiberg, to The Athletic

The Quantity: 2% (Bulls’ odds of constructing the playoffs, increased than solely the Hawks, Suns and Kings)

No. 23: Indiana Pacers

There aren’t many one-year wonders within the NBA, however are we a bit carried away a few crew whose second choice behind Victor Oladipo is Bojan Bogdanovic? That second choice ought to be Myles Turner, but it surely is not but, and it will not be till we see it occur. –B.J.

The Quote: “Now we have an opportunity to yell loud: ‘Right here we’re, and we will be robust to beat.’ It may go within the different course too.” –Pacers president Kevin Pritchard

The Quantity: 45% (Enhance in Oladipo’s scoring from his final season in OKC to his first with Indiana)

No. 24: Atlanta Hawks

The Hawks don’t need 6-foot-2 Trae Younger to match himself to Steph Curry — although his new GM, Travis Schlenk, used to work for the Warriors and selected to commerce Luka Doncic, the very best Euro prospect ever, for Younger, the fifth total choose in June. Good luck! No, critically — good luck: Younger shot 27 % from Three in summer time league. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “He blew up and bought nationwide recognition due to the taking pictures, however to us, his greatest asset at present is his passing.” –Travis Schlenk on Younger, to CBS Sports activities

The Quantity: 36% (Younger’s Three-point share in his remaining school 12 months, in comparison with Curry’s 38.7%)

No. 25: Denver Nuggets

Nikola Jokic is cherished by those that watch far more basketball than the typical fan. And the technique for the Nuggets has all the time been to make use of home-altitude benefit and outscore groups. If Jokic will help with that, protection would be the trade-off — and he has a contract that means the Nuggets have made peace with that. –B.J.

The Quote: “You place Nikola on Olynyk, they put him on the action-on James Johnson, on the motion.” –Coach Mike Malone, to The Denver Put up

The Quantity: 220 (Jokic’s defensive ranking rank final season, 53rd amongst facilities)

No. 26: Los Angeles Clippers

The Lakers and Clippers share the identical enviornment in the identical means that Iron Man and Avenue Pedestrian #2 are each in Infinity Conflict. Are you able to identify a Clipper at this level? Would you acknowledge one on the road? Their greatest attracts — in addition to Boban Marjanovic — are location and cap house. An awesome system for an A-lister who does not thoughts feeling like a B-minus. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “There was simply a lot pettiness. Like, Donald Trump-level pettiness.” –JJ Redick on his final days in LA, to Pardon My Take

The Quantity: $57M (Cap house the Clippers may have subsequent summer time)

No. 27: Phoenix Suns

Being unhealthy and enjoying within the Mountain time zone is a good way to get forgotten; for those who’re searching for Tyson Chandler, he is right here. However are these kids up for taking part in a recreation of Survivor? Sooner or later, a few of that potential should be transformed into success, and that often requires just a few credible adults. –B.J.

The Quote: “We wish to be in June on TV.” –Coach Igor Kokoskov, to The Related Press

The Quantity: 24.Three (Suns’ common age, weighted by minutes, final season — the NBA’s youngest)

Can Utah’s hotshot guard Donovan Mitchell and massive man Rudy Gobert share the highlight? Russ Isabella/USA TODAY

No. 28: Utah Jazz

Groups dream of touchdown a younger guard like Donovan Mitchell and a younger huge like Rudy Gobert. However they’ve nightmares about those self same two gamers failing to coexist. In idea, it ought to work: Gobert prides himself on protection, whereas Mitchell is volume-scoring his method to stardom. However for 2 aspirational alphas, superstar is usually a zero-sum recreation. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “You do not have to be greatest pals. The aim is to win a championship.” –Rudy Gobert, to The Salt Lake Tribune

The Quantity: 187 (Mitchell’s Three-pointers made final season, a rookie document)

No. 29: Brooklyn Nets

It should be somebody’s job to ensure nobody tells the boss that Jimmy Butler is curious about coming to Brooklyn, as a result of there is not any telling what Mikhail Prokhorov would give as much as get a star in his prime. The query is how lengthy it’s going to take the Nets to take action, because it seems like their final first-round choose was Kerry Kittles. –B.J.

The Quote: “What bothers me generally are the compliments you get after: ‘Oh, they performed so exhausting.'” –Nets coach Kenny Atkinson

The Quantity: $193M (The Nets’ payroll in 2013-14, the best in NBA historical past)

No. 30: Orlando Magic

The best trick the Magic ever pulled was convincing the league they did not exist. Whereas Philly bought obliterated for tanking, Orlando’s greatest season of the previous six peaked, quietly, at 35 wins. The distinction? The Magic did not wish to lose. I believe. Orlando cycled by way of 4 coaches in that span, which makes it exhausting to differentiate between incompetence and intent. –P.S.T.

The Quote: “Our fan base is determined for wins, and we really feel the burden of that.” –Jeff Weltman, president of basketball operations, to NBA.com

The Quantity: .319 (Win % since Dwight Howard was traded in 2012)

The post High Noon’s Pablo Torre and Bomani Jones preview 2018-19 NBA season dramas appeared first on Breakig News.

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