Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.)
So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX.
“Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked.
“This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry.
“No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.”
“Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains.
“Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?”
“Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.”
I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though.
“Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.”
“Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.”
“Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.”
“Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.”
“You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.”
We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl.
“Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.”
After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business.
“So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?”
“No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment.
I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code.
“Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued.
“Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?”
“You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated.
“And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired.
“Yes?” I cautiously venture.
“Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured.
“That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.”
Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?”
“Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks.
“And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed.
“Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “
I agreed.
“OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...”
“Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.”
“Ahem. Those three ultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.”
“Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.”
“Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.”
“I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked.
“But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked.
“Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head.
“I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.”
So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked.
“Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack.
“Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied.
“Fuckbuckets.” I groused.
“There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled.
“I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed.
After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge.
“So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.”
“Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction.
“Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.”
After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130.
Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite.
Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded.
Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull.
Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era…
I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza.
She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing.
I can hardly wait.
I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness.
After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks.
I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern.
Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse?
There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak.
“Blue,” I said.
“Brue?” was the reply.
“Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued.
Look of total bewilderment.
I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant.
“珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?]
“Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be.
They toddle off to find the chef.
“How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks.
“Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed.
All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile.
“Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words…
“お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください”
[O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.]
“Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.”
“OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen.
Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill.
“Crack tubes!”
Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it.
Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace.
Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig.
Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends.
We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’.
“I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor.
I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down.
“Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.”
“Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically.
“I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could.
She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth.
I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest.
“Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.”
“Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley.
She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor.
“Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles.
Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun.
“Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.”
“You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass.
“Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky…
“Beam Suntory, right?”
“You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation.
“And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked.
Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip.
“Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently.
We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company.
I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters.
She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health.
We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed.
The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show.
Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat.
Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower.
“This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered.
“Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports.
“That’s good”, I note.
“But…”
“There’s always the but…” I groan.
“…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.”
There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.”
Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit.
“Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear.
The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain.
I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service.
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…”
“Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.”
So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself.
“Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?”
He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates.
“Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles
“No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink.
“But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again.
“So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked.
“Yeah?”, he stammered back.
I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails.
“OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.”
I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink.
“Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed.
“Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked.
“But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued.
“I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled.
That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while.
“Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked.
“But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered.
Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied,
“All the way to the crash site.”
He went white.
“...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.”
He went limp.
Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload.
Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii.
We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was.
They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal.
I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did.
“Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked.
“Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied.
“Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.”
“Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.”
“Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.”
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.”
“I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway.
At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport.
While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!”
“Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.”
“I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped.
“Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied.
He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted.
“Yeah? Like what?” he asks.
“Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.”
“Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.”
Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.”
He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge.
I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane.
He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts.
“No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins.
“Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”.
“And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies.
“Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.”
He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH.
I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge.
The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium.
I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different.
It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella.
“Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular.
One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically.
I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar.
I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically.
Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes.
“Excuse me!” I hear.
Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit.
“What?”
“That cigar…”
“Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward.
“Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes.
Instantly my demeanor switches 180^0.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks.
“Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances.
“Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?”
“Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said.
“Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens.
“Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle.
She chuckles back.
“And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake.
“Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask.
“On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies.
“But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask.
“She was from Truk, an island…”
“In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked.
“Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said.
“That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked.
“Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle.
Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me.
“Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?”
My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open.
“Hella?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask…”
“Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask.
“Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies.
“I thought so. Many thanks.”
I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet.
“Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed.
“Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud.
“No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked.
“Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed.
“But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand.
“What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand.
“Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said.
“Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party.
“Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella.
Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well.
“Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted.
Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone.
“Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge.
“Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over.
“You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo.
He cuts and fires up his heater.
“What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks.
“Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply.
“No. I mean right now.” He clarifies.
“Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply.
“Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks.
“My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply.
Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end.
Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies.
Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer.
We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off.
Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it.
I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”.
“Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion.
“One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another.
“No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo.
“But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain.
I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.”
She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion.
Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see.
“So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask.
“Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues.
“You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft.
I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense.
“Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection.
“Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins.
“So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo.
“Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing.
I pound on Toivo’s back.
“Heimlich time?” I ask.
Toivo signals ‘no’.
“Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks.
“Just my usual”, I innocently replied.
“Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much.
“Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily.
“Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out.
“The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool.
“It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean.
“Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled.
“You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink.
“No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest.
Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore.
“You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings.
“Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly.
I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable.
Great fieldcraft, indeed.
I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium.
He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing.
Then I delivered the strategic missile strike.
“Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…”
He swivels to look at me.
“And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly.
Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move.
I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane.
Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire.
Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business.
I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious.
“Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked.
“Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile.
“Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said.
“Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway.
I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH.
Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up.
Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane.
We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun.
Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal.
We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip.
She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink.
Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks.
Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs.
“Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!”
“No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear.
“Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!”
“’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly.
Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole.
“Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly.
“What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it.
He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose.
“Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.”
To be continued…⇝

This is gonna be a long one, so I appreciate all that stay and read the whole thing.
​
Sonic the Hedgehog: Robo Rebellion
TEST YOUR METTLE AGAINST THESE MECHAS AND SEE WHO’S THE WORLD’S STRONGEST!
It’s been 30 years since the events of Sonic 3 and Knuckles (the game), unfolded. The threat of Dr. Eggman is in the distant past, and Planet Mobius is peaceful once again. The great hero, Sonic the Hedgehog, has retired and now lives with his lifetime best friend Miles ‘Tails’ Prower. Knuckles the Echidna now lives in serenity in his own house on the downed Angel Island. The world is safe. But then, one of Eggman’s old creations begins to stir. Metal Sonic, after years of disuse, has finally reawakened and is ready to cause some good old-fashioned havoc.
Using the Doc’s ancient computers, Metal uncovers long lost data on a few other failed robotic experiments. Using this data, he revives the robotic rejects as his right-hand men in his conquest to take over the world. Take control of Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow, or Silver and face off against Metal Sonic, Silver Sonic, and Mecha Sonic in an ultimate duel to the finish! The fate of Mobius is in your hands! Good luck, and may Chaos be with you!
Gameplay (Sonic)
Sonic the Hedgehog is a natural-born speed freak, and has a need to bring about justice to the world! He controls as he normally would, with the analog stick in charge of most forms of movement. He has three play styles: Classic, Adventure, and Boost. The player now can create custom play styles, similar to Sonic Generations, however, this feature is only accessible after completing the game’s story mode once with any character. This feature is available to all characters. You can mix and match moves from any playstyle with these custom movesets. Going with the Classic style gives Sonic the Spindash, Dropdash, Super Peelout, and Insta-Shield. This style is influenced by momentum gathering and slopes. If you find a ramp, you can roll down it while curled in a ball to gain lots of speed!
Choosing Adventure playstyle gives Sonic the Spindash, Lightspeed Dash, Rail Grind control, and a new move called Lightspeed Burst. This style relies on the usage of the jump button a lot, because it is more platforming oriented than the other playstyles.
If you choose the Boost playstyle, you have access to the Boost, Jump Dash, Stomp, and Boost Drift. With this style, you use golden Rings to power your Boost (like in Sonic Unleashed). On the lower-left corner of your screen, there is a speedometer. It will calculate your approximate speed while running. With the Jump Dash, all you need to do is jump, then press A or X while in midair to hurtle forward. For Stomp, jump then press B or Circle to slam back down. For Boost Drift, start Boosting with X or Square, then hold down the Right Trigger while running around tight corners. Sonic’s levels are more geared towards speed, with Dash Panels, Springs, and Speed Launchers everywhere to help you gain velocity.
Gameplay (Tails)
Tails is a Technique-type character. For this fabulous fox, you get two playstyles. Classic or Adventure. His Classic moves are Spindash, Flight, Pseudo Tail-Swipe, and Dropdash. His Adventure moves are Spindash, Lightspeed Dash, Tail Swipe, Flight, and Dummy Ring Bomb. The Classic playstyle once again revolves around using momentum to achieve max speed, but this time with a slight twist. For Tails, there are different routes crafted especially for him to navigate. Some of them are faster than the normal routes, some are slower. The Adventure playstyle is more about platforming and making good use of your ability to fly. Press A or X repeatedly while in the air to gain altitude. There is a 15-second flight timer, which when depleted, will cause the fluffy fox to flutter back down to the ground. If you wish to stop flying in midair, simply press Down on the D-pad and press A or X. The controls for Spindash are the same as for Sonic. For Tail Swipe, you need to hold down the B or Circle button to put Tails into a crouching position, then flick the movement stick in whatever direction you want the tails to swipe.
Gameplay (Knuckles)
Knuckles is a Power-type character. For this extraordinary echidna, there are three playstyles. Classic, Adventure, and Fighter. His Classic moves are Spindash, Glide, Climb, Drop-In, and Wall Crush. His Adventure moves are Spindash, Climb, Wall Crush, Shovel Claws, Glide, Spiral Upper, and Mach Punch. His Fighter moveset is Mach Punch, Mach Kick, Meteor Crash, One-Two-Combo, Basic Punch, Drop-In, and Axe Kick. For the Classic style, Knuckles is more inclined to climbing up walls and gliding over spike pits to access hard to reach areas of a stage. For Adventure, Knuckles is more geared towards exploration, with certain areas of a level being diggable, giving you to capability to drill through portions of the zone. For Fighter, Knuckles aims for straightforward hand to hand combat. He does have his usual moves, but all of the common combat moves are replaced by the upgraded ones. To access your technique arsenal, all you have to do is hold down the Right Trigger and select the move you want to use based on the button you mapped it to.
Gameplay (Shadow)
Shadow is a dual-type character. Having both Speed and Technique on his side, he is quite versatile. For good ole edgy the hedgy, we have two playstyles. Adventure and Boost. His Adventure moves are Spindash, Homing Attack, Jump Dash, Stomp, and his plethora of Chaos attacks. For the Boost playstyle, he has Boost, Air Burst, Homing Attack, Stomp, and Consecutive Chaos Spear. With Adventure, Shadow’s task is to move quickly while remaining as stealthy as possible. With Boost, Shadow must learn how to use his moves while moving at high speed.
Gameplay (Silver)
Silver is a Technique-type character. For this time-traveling titan, we have three playstyles. 06, Boost, and Psychic. For the 06 playstyle, his moves are as follows: Kinetic Wind, Psychic Blade, Foot Flurry, and Rubble Crunch. For the Boost playstyle, he has: Boost, Kinetic Wind, Rubble Crunch, Air Burst, Jump Dash, and Stomp. For the Psychic playstyle, he has Kinetic Wind, Psychic Blade, Rubble Crunch, and Don’t Move! The 06 playstyle is more geared towards solving simple puzzles and moving things around to progress through the zone. You may use a partner character in these levels (if using the 06 playstyle), who is required to assist Silver in the completion of the level. For the Boost playstyle, the main goal is to learn how to use your psychic abilities to hover while boosting to cover long distances. For the Psychic playstyle, it is more geared towards the technicality of Silver’s powers, and the ability to use them mid-level without difficulty.
Levels
The levels in this game vary in difficulty, and they are abundant with special prizes and powerups for those who decide to explore. Finish all levels to unlock the final boss!
Peaceful Plains Zone: A good first level to any good Sonic game! Mostly linear, with areas for each character to explore using their respective abilities. Spiral through hollow tree trunks and wade through the tall grass as your character sets out on the first outing of their journey! Here, you can find plenty of Rings, powerups, and Giant Rings to access the Special Stages. Complete Special Stages to earn Chaos Emeralds. Get seven Emeralds, and your Super form will be available for use! Defeat the miniboss and major boss to move onto the next level. Don’t forget to pop that animal Capsule!
Flaming Factory Zone: One of Metal Sonic’s munition factories have been torched! Enter the burning complex and save the animals, all the while snagging as much intel as you can. Be stealthy but move quickly! You don’t want the patrolling Baby Mechas to catch you! Find as many Giant Rings as you can and grab those Chaos Emeralds. There is a miniboss and major boss in this zone. Bust through the doors at the end to finish the zone before it explodes!
Traumatic Thunderstorm Zone: Take to the sky on the Tornado (or if playing as Silver or Tails, fly on your own) as you shoot and dodge your way through a horde of flying Badniks! There aren’t any Giant Rings in this zone, but never fear! You still have plenty of time to collect the remaining Emeralds. This zone has only one act and isn’t too long. Occasionally, lightning may streak down from the sky and try to hit you, but a warning sign appears when that’s about to happen, so look out for it! Land the Tornado and proceed to the next zone.
Blizzard Mountain Zone: In a similar fashion to Ice Cap Zone, you must snowboard down the side of a snowy mountain! You are deposited in an ice cavern, which depending on your character, determines how hard the level will be. Using Silver’s psychokinesis, this level will be a piece of cake. Using Sonic or Shadow’s superior speed, this level might take some precise platforming and a bit of time. Traverse the large glacial crevasses, all the while a blizzard rages around you! Make it through, defeat the bosses, pop the Capsule, and scram outta there!
Roboticized Ruins Zone: This is a twisted, evil, and metallic version of the Sky Sanctuary Zone, ruled over by Silver Sonic. It is a city full of smog and pollution, and your job is to find the main power plant of the place and shut it down! Avoid pools of molten metal and deadly electricity sparks as you traverse this ironclad municipality. Enter Giant Rings, collect more Chaos Emeralds, and free the animals!
Outrageous Oasis Zone: This zone is a nice change of pace from the last few! Race through the sands and pools of crystal clear water holes as you snag the remaining Chaos Emeralds! There are palm trees, boulders, and small bushes everywhere. Some of these might contain a surprise for curious players, so make sure to look out for those! Defeat the miniboss and major boss to move onto the next level.
Flying Battery Zone: In this return to a classic zone, you are tasked with reaching the ship’s cockpit to stop the ensuing bomb raid! Speed your way through this giant zeppelin, and find the flashing Giant Ring somewhere in Act 1! Here, if you have all the Chaos Emeralds, you can enter and exchange them for Super Emeralds. In act 2, you have to make a hasty escape from the ship along its exterior, as it begins to descend from the clouds. You can collect three Super Emeralds here. If you make it in time, pop open the animal capsule and make a quick getaway. There is both a miniboss and a major boss in this zone.
Toxic Sewer Zone: Go into the bowels of Robotropolis, as you try to sneak into the Intelligence Tower and not get caught! Here, you are faced with Toxic Sludge, Poisonous Gas, Acid Vapor, and lots of Badniks! This zone has a miniboss, but no major boss. Steal Metal Sonic’s battle plans, trash the intel tower, and scram outta there! Make sure to look for flashing Giant Rings so you can collect two more Super Emeralds.
Volcanic Blast Zone: Wander through magma tubes and avoid rivers of molten lava as you try to escape this volcanic hellscape! Dodge flying rocks and jets of superheated steam. Depending on which character you use, this may or may not be an extremely platforming heavy level. Using Knuckles or Silver would be the best bet here. There’s both a miniboss and a major boss in this level. Pop the Capsule and move onto the next level. Collect the last two Super Emeralds here and prepare to face off against some big baddies!
Boss Rush!: Face off against all the bosses you’ve defeated so far in quick succession! Don’t worry, you’re given plenty of Rings, but make sure to time your hits right or you’ll lose them!
Titanium Titan Zone: Metal Sonic, Mecha Sonic, and Silver Sonic have decided to take matters into their own hands and band together to get rid of the threat for good! The three doppelgangers have fused into one large, very powerful, cunning, and agile robot. The final product’s name is Mechallix! Transform into your Hyper form and square up against the super armored monstrosity! This boss takes 15 hits to defeat. Dodge the bombs that are thrown at you, keep your Ring count up, and make sure to look for openings to attack! Hint: after the large energy beam attack, you have five seconds to make a mad dash towards Mechallix and hit the vulnerable point. Once you’ve scored the final hit, Mechallix begins to deconstruct, and you can rest safely knowing that the world is once again at peace!
Items
Rings: Just your average golden Ring. Their origins are unknown, but they have been discovered to hold immense healing properties and give whatever user an imperviousness to death, except under certain circumstances.
Red Star Rings: Rings that have been infused with a small amount of Chaos energy, giving them twice as much healing properties than normal Rings. Red Star Rings are worth more than Rings.
Chaos Emeralds: Gems of immense power, the seven Chaos Emeralds grant the user a Super form. Even one Emerald can power an entire city.
Ring Monitor: A monitor that, when opened, gives you ten Rings.
Speed-Up Monitor: A monitor that, when opened, gives you a speed boost for twenty seconds.
Electricity Shield: A monitor that, when opened, gives you a shield made of lightning, that grants you imperviousness to electricity damage. This shield is lost when touching water or fire.
Flame Shield: A monitor that, when opened, gives you a shield made of fire. This shield grants imperviousness to fire and lava. This shield will be lost if you touch water or electricity.
Water Shield: A monitor that, when opened, gives you a shield made of a water bubble. This shield grants imperviousness to drowning. This shield will be lost if you touch fire or electricity.
Star Post: This is an item that looks like a lamppost, with a red circle at its top. This functions as a checkpoint, and once you pass one, it makes a chime sound and the top spins. If you die, you will respawn here.
Invincibility Monitor: This is a monitor that, when opened, grants the player twenty seconds of nigh-complete invincibility. White sparkles and a catchy tune accompanies the invincibility. You can’t, however, escape death by crushing, drowning, or death pits.
Springs: These items are usually found on the side of slopes, to help the character run up the side. There are two types. Yellow and Red. Yellow springs are the least powerful of the two and are used to scale small ramps. They give a small speed boost. Red Springs are the more powerful and give you a way bigger speed boost. When used, they are accompanied by a boing sound.
Super Emeralds: These are a bigger form of the Chaos Emeralds, powered directly by the Master Emerald. When collected, the seven Super Emeralds grant the user a Hyper form. Your Hyper form is extremely powerful and outclasses the Super form in every way.
Rails: Rail grinding is a staple of every modern Sonic game, and this one is no different. When grinding on rails, your character moves at high speeds over long distances, and they usually serve as separate paths. In order to use the grind rail, all you need to do is jump on top of it. Special kinds of boost pads called Dash Rails grant your character an additional speed boost. You can usually find long lines of Rings sitting on top of grind rails, and there are also some obstacles that serve to impede your progress, such as spikes, iron balls, and even badniks!
Side Quests
In the Hubworld, the player can access certain Side Quests. After a level is completed, five side quests will appear. With the game having a total of 11 Zones, this means that there is 55 side quests that the player can do! They range in difficulty from easy to hard. There are 11 side quests for each character. There are several types of quests to choose from. Top Speed, Ring Grab, Clone Race, Badnik Survival, and Powerup Abuse, to name a few.
Special Characters
After the completion of the main story mode, the player has unlocked three new characters. The villains themselves. Metal Sonic, Silver Sonic, and Mecha Sonic.
Gameplay (Metal Sonic)
Metal Sonic is the first killer doppelganger of Sonic that Dr. Eggman ever built. He’s on par with Sonic, if not better than him, at everything he does. His speed is unmatched. Metal has two playstyles: Classic and Boost. With his classic playstyle, he has Spindash, Energy Field, Full Power!, and V. Maximum Overdrive Attack. Metal Sonic is able to fly for a short period of time, on a 40-second timer. Metal’s Spindash works the same way as all the others’, by holding down with the analog stick and pressing A or X repeatedly to charge up. The Energy Field is a green sphere of energy surrounding the robot that temporarily makes him invincible. It is on a 7-second timer. Full Power! is a special technique that grants Metal Sonic a small power boost, that surrounds him in electricity sparks.
With his Boost playstyle, he has the Boost, Jump Dash, Boost Drift, and Stomp. All of these techniques operate the same way they normally do.
Gameplay (Silver Sonic)
Silver Sonic was Eggman’s second Sonic copy, and his design was...rough. He wasn’t exactly agile, and his body was quite bulky. When Metal Sonic revived Silver Sonic, he made sure to eliminate these imperfections in his design to create the perfect warrior for his army. Silver Sonic has two playstyles: Classic, and Fighter. With the Classic style, Silver Sonic has his own version of the Spindash called Rocket Smash. With this attack, Silver Sonic’s rocket booster shoes roar to life and he shoots forward, spiked hands first. Silver Sonic also has an attack called Spine Slam, in which he jumps high into the air, disperses sharp spines in the hope of them hitting the target, then slams back down to the ground. Silver Sonic isn’t as speedy as the other two Sonic doppelgangers, but he has a wide range of skills to make up for that.
For the Fighters playstyle, Silv. Sonic has quite a few moves to show off: Ground Pound, Death Cannon, Energy Discharge, and Shock Punch. This version of the Fighters playstyle is a little different from Knuckles’ version. While playing as Silver Sonic equipped with Fighters style, most of the levels you traverse through take place in the air, or at least hovering above the ground. Enemies can approach you from any direction. Underneath, above, left or right. This is where your attacks will come in handy, especially Energy Discharge and Death Gun. Using ED, you create a sphere of energy around Silver Sonic that blows enemies away. It is a large AOE attack that usually one-shots enemies. Death Gun is your next best friend in these situations. It is a wide, sweeping energy beam that emanates from Silver Sonic’s one large eye. When using it, tilt the analog stick left and right to eliminate surrounding baddies. This attack takes three seconds to charge up, and is most useful in life-or-death situations.
Gameplay (Mecha Sonic)
Mecha Sonic is the most agile of the three doppelgangers, with immense speed, strength, and durability. He was the third, and final, robotic copy of Sonic, and is widely considered to be one of the strongest artificial beings in existence. He has two playstyles: Boost and Fighters. The Boost playstyle is arguably the funnest mode to play in. Mecha Sonic was created with a built in boost feature, e.g., the miniature RD-180 rocket engine in his back. He was the last to be brought back from the dead, and all the while, he’s had data on Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles inside him. After his fight with the trio on the Sky Sanctuary, he was forced into stasis mode. Metal Sonic found him this way and decided to bring him up to speed on the current events.
With the Boost style, Mecha Sonic can tear down the track of whatever level he’s in. Utilizing his ability to fly, you can cross wide distances, all the while attacking with the Mecha Sonic Energy Barrage. With this attack, Mecha can produce balls of Chaos energy from the hatch in his chest that home in on and follow its target. Another attack of Mecha’s is called Spiky Comet. He rolls into a ball of sharp steel and spikes, and careens toward his opponent. The move is lightning quick, and most people wouldn’t expect it if they didn’t know anything about him. Mecha Sonic has a super form; he is the first robot to ever achieve this status. It was, at one time, powered by the Master Emerald, but he has been adapted to be able to absorb Chaos Emeralds. Mecha Sonic’s Fighters style is similar to that of Silver Sonic’s.
Woo! That's it for this fangame! Tell me whatcha think in the comments!

It's been another bizzaro month of 2020 but I return with another possible story to follow up on! At the moment it's between Apotheosis Seized from the TWWC universe, Pawn from the Material Differences universe, and this one from a totally new universe straight from my exhaustion riddled brain! Let me know which you like most! As always I hope you enjoy my latest!
Debtless!
My Stories
My Patreon
“It is known then that the universe is made up of three categories under which all else falls. Quintessence, which conjoins light and dark. For even luminous and ink are both forms of Quintessence greatly deviant though they may be. It is across Quintessence we travel on, the currents of which are felt at all times. Then there is of course Terrestrial which brings us the mantles, earth, minerals, and biomes which bring us life, wealth, and creation. Precious as the terrestrial is, finite and limited we then come on the third force. Debt. Debt binds the other two together, achieving order out of chaos to form a system neither real or unreal, yet ideal. For it is a category of thought and ideas pure and putrid as determined by the consciousness observing and understanding it. But for existence to prevail Debt must be upheld and maintained. It is a force more powerful than any other as it is unbound by friction or limit and can even grow in compound form. This then is the nature of the universe and its three categories which must all be observed and understood.” - Quilmar the first Observer, founder of the Law, creator of the Lexicon, Architect of Order, Surveyor of the Currenseas, and the first Supreme Creditor.
“Listen, I’ll take the air and the dirt. But you can fucking keep the debt bud.” - Dron the first debtless.
Nick carefully reread his letter for perhaps the fifth time, pencil twirling between his fingers as he tried to think if he wanted to change anything, or remove anything. “Human, if you’re not ready to send the letter, decide swiftly. The courier ship leaves shortly.” Nick glanced up at the six armed Ruvea dangling from the ceiling and finally folded his letter to stuff it in an envelope.
“I’m ready.” He insisted, more to himself than to the lanky postmaster.
“Wax color?” The Ruvea asked next as he held out several steaming bowls with multiple colors.
“Cheapest.” Nick replied and waited for the postmaster to pour out a small dollop of grey wax before he carefully pressed his signet to the wax to seal it. Once that was done he let out a heavy sigh and relaxed his shoulders feeling a weight lifting off of him.
“Debt code?” The Ruvea asked next as it picked up the letter, gently wafting it over an ice tube to help the wax cool faster.
“None.” Nick’s comment made the Ruvea pause and inspect him a bit more carefully. Though he wasn’t troubled by the mag carbine connected to his rig. Being armed wasn’t unusual. But he doubted the Ruvea knew much of the intricacies of the artwork spread across his pressure suit telling of his life. No, the postmaster’s eyes were looking for much more obvious signs of something else. Marks of piracy. Nick answered early to save him time. “Just a Debtless. How many spools?” He asked next, pulling a pouch off the belt of his rig.
“One silver spool, or a quarter gold.” The Ruvea held out a delicate long fingered hand as Nick tugged a gossamer silver spool free of his pouch to hand off. “Favorable journeys to you Debtless.” The Ruvea nodded and then began to move back into the post office, his tails pulling him from rung to rung along the ceiling. With that done Nick turned to head out of the post office and into the main avenue of the city. Luminet City was one of the Minted cities, and by far the largest city Nick had ever been to. It was also the gateway to the Casian Traverse, which is probably the only reason it was Minted in the first place. Plenty of trade came through here, but it was far from stable. Financially that is. The Terrestrial chunk it was built on was stable even if a bit smaller than most Mint Cities had.
The street was full of all manner of species, from massive purple fleshed Potamgerly waddling around head and shoulders above everyone else, to cyan, magenta, or yellow furred Coretchkin scurrying around the edges of the traffic. Plus every size and shape in between it seemed. Even with the street cars rumbling along the central rails the mass of bodies would just open or close around their passing. He even saw a land roller up the street before it turned off towards the Credit Governor’s Palace.
The palace towered over everything else in the city, and rightfully so considering it housed both the mint in the lower levels, and the sector’s treasury. Gleaming metal flying buttresses extended off its tiered structure, stretching out at the top for a host of individual towers, and observatories. In the light of the local star a rainbow of color was cast by its vibrant stained glass windows. Nick bet most of those came from human master glassworkers. He couldn’t be sure if it was his people specifically but the Vulkoa were known for glass making so he wouldn’t be surprised.
What did surprise him however was how few ships were currently docked with it. Usually Governor’s palaces would be teeming with ships tending to all manner of daily routine. From depositing spools to be worked in the mints, or distributing debt markers to be updated along the semaphore lines. Yet, for now he only spotted a cluster to one side. Ship types he wasn’t familiar with either which was unusual for him. They sported gold and blue paint with pearl trim. He’d have to ask his brother if he knew about them.
His brother! Nick grinned as he shook himself from his contemplative position before the post office and quickly joined the heavy foot traffic along the street as he made for the hangar quarter. The sound of the city enveloped him swiftly enough as he walked. The rumble of the street cars, the distant clang of factory forges, the hiss of steam vents, all competing with the general cacophony of speech going on all around him. The city was too big for the market stalls and bazaars that he was used to but that didn’t mean people were much quieter calling out advertisements to try and lure customers into stores.
Thankfully the post office wasn’t too far from the hangar quarter, and soon the foot traffic began to thin out. The sky grew a bit darker on this side of the rock though, now that he was downwind of the factory stacks and the smoke they let off. Industrial skiffs were ever present in the sky, their forms casting countless shadows across the city below as they zipped through the sky. He missed the flocks of manu-o-Ku flying through the sky instead of skiffs. But he doubted many birds would do well in a city like this.
Soon enough he was at the central hub of the hangar quarter as dozens of landing strips, public, and private hangars stretched out around him. Massive elevators carrying ships up or down as they needed, while still more rumbling escalators were spread out to get people up, or down into the subterrestrial hangars. Nick had to stop at one of the clackboards as he looked for the hangar code his brother had given him. While he watched various numbers and names would change with the telltale clacking of the mechanical signs. Truthfully he was surprised the ship even fit in a hangar, and didn’t need a dock at the edge of the rock. Carriers were massive ships after all. He was curious to see how his brother had made this work.
Looking around a moment he saw a team of Mutheki organizing crates to haul onto a skiff and waved at the bug eyed laborers. “Hey! I’m looking for hangar H 22. Any help?”
The nearest Mutheki looked his way, or… at least angled his head so one of his eyes was facing Nick. The Mutheki always reminded Nick of mothmen. Just without the wings. Especially since they had those bug eyes, little tufts of fur along their torso, and long thin feet which never looked like they could support the rest of their body. But the bug people were always friendly so he never asked if they chased fires around. Even if he wondered… “H is that line.” The Mutheki gestures up pretty much straight the way Nick was going. “The clackboards are always updated so just find the escalator for 22.”
“Thanks. Is 22 a big one?” Nick asked next, still curious about the carrier.
“Subterrestrial hangars are adjustable. It’s out near the edge so… maybe.” The Mutheki gave a shrug.
“Thanks again.” Nick nodded and started to follow the line out just like he’d been told. While he was walking he saw a flight of Quarwi barges being lifted up from a hangar elevator as they all began to lift off and make for the nearest buoy marker as they appeared to be heading straight for the Casian Vortex to take them into the Currensea. It was an odd sight for him since he knew they typically avoided such reckless speed. They were known to be much more careful and precise as a people. Were they running from something?
He pushed the thought from his mind however as he saw the clackboard ahead marking H-22. His brother was close! Grinning wide he hopped on the escalator and started walking down even as it rumbled and carried him into the depths of the hangar. He could see various belts and conveyors hanging from the ceiling as they carried crates, and other cargo between the divided hangar sections. It did marvel him a bit at times just how much activity had to be going on in a city of this size at all times.
As he neared the bottom of the escalator he could see a security checkpoint. This must mark the beginning of armed hangar bays then. From what it looked like the guards were mostly Joss, a typical choice considering their stocky powerful builds and typically aggressive nature. Of course, how useful they were varied wildly since they might be as lazy as they were aggressive. Usually depended on the local tribe. Nick also didn’t like dealing with them simply because their oblong sideways pupils honestly creeped him out. Thankfully this group just kept chatting, or sharpening their horns while he passed so he didn’t have to deal with them. They were loaded for trouble though if it came to it. Minted plate, and mag carbines made it clear these city guards were well equipped if nothing else.
Nick had been so focused on the Joss that he nearly walked right past the open hangar he was looking for. It was also… smaller than he figured it would be so that didn’t help. Did he have the right place? H-22. He confirmed on the wall. There was a single ship inside at the far end, near the closed exterior hangar bay door. It wasn’t small… but it wasn’t a carrier. Not even close. Was this the right place? Nick kept looking the ship over as he walked closer.
Considering the dull orange lavaplate construction, and overall design it looked like a Vulkoa ship, but not one he’d seen in the fleet. Lavaplate was finicky even if incredibly durable. Usually reserved for special ships and was mostly phased out of standardized fleet designs. It had forward swept wings set just before the central bridge, twin stabilizer fins extending out from a boxy engine bay, and... he wasn’t sure about the flat part just under and ahead of the bridge between the forward wings. Torpedo bay? Something about it tickled the back of his brain… one of those old paintings in the history books...
“Nick!” His eyes flicked from the orange and brass ship to a figure in a large pressure suit walking down the ramp. His concerns with the ship were immediately replaced as he grinned wide and opened his arms.
“Nate!” As he approached Nate opened the silver faceplate of his suit and they embraced, hugging each other tight for a moment. “Damn good to see you!”
“You too! Look at the paint!” Nate tapped a hand at Nick’s shoulder and the new intricate designs painted on. “The war hero!”
“Psh.” Nick immediately shook his head and waved it off. “They just had some left over from the real heroes and slapped some around. Besides you’re not looking too shabby either!” Nick leaned back as he looked over the paint on Nick’s suit as he pointed to a few designs. “Engineer first class, cartographer first class, academy graduate! Gotta be proud of all that!”
“Please, the last thing I need is you claiming any of this is difficult compared to what you were doing. My life wasn’t in danger at the academy… Alcohol poisoning maybe.” He shrugged and they both laughed a moment, neither wanting to take credit for their paint even if they’d earned it. “Was it bad at the end? I read your letters and heard the wireless.”
“It… wasn’t pretty.” Nick’s happy attitude faded a bit as Nate asked. “But, it was all worth it in the end right? Hazard pay!” He tried to shift the topic back. “Debtless! And we have a ship! Though… I’m thinking this is… an escort of some kind? To take us to the carrier?”
“What? No. This is it.” Nate took a step back and looked at the ship behind them.
“You said you bought us a carrier. This isn’t a carrier.” Nick waved at it.
“Yes, it is.” Nate insisted. “Did you think I meant a fleet carrier? How much money did you think I made? Or you? Do you have any idea how many decades of hazard pay it would take for us to buy a fleet carrier and pay off our debt in the meantime? It’s an escort carrier! Don’t you recognize it?”
Now Nick really tried to think as he looked up at the ship. What was it? Alright… around… 500 feet long… central bridge but not a true flight tower… sealed midsection so it could land in water… Slowly he shook his head trying to think. “I…” It was so close to something… “I can’t place it… It’s like… I almost know it. The wings look like the old storm crow design… but the ship is much bigger… Also the engines look heavily modified. I just… I don’t know.”
“Well you’re on the right track. It is based on the storm crow hull.” Nate started, but Nick cut in.
“Hull? As in this is based on an actual storm crow?! Nate! Storm Crows are like… over a hundred years old!” Nick gasped out.
“Meaning it’s a well tested design. But more specifically this was custom built. I mean you obviously noted the lava plating. It’s… hard to miss… Because this is. The Lava Crow!” Nate held up his arms as if to show off something incredible but Nick was just staring at him. “Nick. Nick it’s the Lava Crow. The Lava Crow… As in… The Lava Expedition!”
That did make Nick blink and look back up at it. “You mean the Lost Expedition? The one grandad disappeared trying to find? Where the fuck did you even find this? How is this not huge news?”
Nate shrugged a moment. “Well, see, I can’t prove it’s like… the exact same one from the lost fleet. Obviously there’s no paperwork. I found this with that Quarwi salvage fleet on my last tour. They wanted to scrap it for the lava plate since they were concerned about resale value what with all the bloodstains-”
“Bloodstains?” Nick tried to cut in but Nate ignored him.
“So I actually got a very good deal buying it out from under them. Like I was saying it was custom built for the expedition and was heavily modified since then. Even I don’t know what some of it does. There’s a whole… workshop aft of the hangar bay. This thing is a real steal. Worth way more than what I actually paid for it. You should be thanking me for my bargain hunting skills. No one will have any idea what they’re up against when they see this thing.” Nate crossed his arms and gave a confident nod at his assessment.
“How many light craft can it hold?” Nick asked, wondering if his brother was right.
“Uh… four.” Nate confessed.
“It’s not a carrier!” Nick immediately growled once more. “Four is nothing!”
“It is a carrier! It carries other craft! Hence a carrier! What were you honestly expecting? Do you have any idea how many crew it takes to staff a fleet carrier like you imagined?” Nate growled back.
“Around two thousand.” Nick replied without missing a beat.
“Uh… Well… yeah. But that’s my point! We can’t afford a crew of that size! We can’t afford a crew at all! This!” He waved a hand at the vessel. “Is perfect for Debtless! It can run, it can hide, it can carry our own personal craft, and it only needs a tiny crew! The fact they modified it for the expedition is also perfect! Better fuel efficiency, lots of redundant systems for longevity, and minimal crew requirements!”
“I can’t believe you took all my money to pay for half of a piece of junk haunted ship that’s over a century old.” Nick slowly shook his head as he looked up at it.
“First of all, it’s not haunted. The bloodstains were totally mundane.” Nate began to count off on his fingers. “Second of all since it was outfitted for the expedition that means it’s 98 years old. Third, you heard all of grandpa’s stories about the expedition and those ships! It’s worth it! Fourth, I uh…” Nate stopped counting off on his fingers and coughed. “Your money is only a third of what I had to work with.”
Nick frowned at that. “A third? Did you make literally double what I did? I know the military doesn’t pay the best but… with all my hazard pay I figured I’d do better than that…”
“Ah, no I didn’t. I made about what you made. But there’s a third investor.” Nick arched a brow as he got a sinking feeling in his gut. “A… racing champion-”
“No.” Nick immediately cut his brother off. “Nooo. No, no no. Nooooope. Neeewp! You better be fucking joking right now!”
“Nick!” A feminine voice rang out from behind him and he froze up. Then he heard the sound of boots running fast across the deck and turned at the last moment to see a form jumping off the ground and rushing right for him. He had just a moment to react as instinct cut in and he braced himself, arms out to grab the assailant. “NICK!”
He gasped as his sister impacted into him hard, nearly knocking him over as she squeezed him tight, legs wrapped around his ribs as if trying to crush the air out of him. Yet, his reinforced rig and training enabled him to quickly turn and throw her off of him. However, she was also used to this and rolled as she hit the ground, jumping back up to her feet, arms raised. “Nora…” He growled out.
“Nova!” She corrected. “Nova Velocity Vanders!” Then she stuck her fingers up. “Pew pew pew pew! Normally I have my confetti guns-”
“Your what?” Nick blinked.
“But I need to get more confetti. So fucking great to see you! I’ve missed the hell out of you! Both of you! I was ecstatic to hear Nate’s plan! Isn’t this fucking awesome? The Lava Crow! A legendary ship for a legendary racer ace! The perfect start to the next chapter of my adventure! Oooouurrr adventure! To find grandpa! Woo!” Nick was glaring at Nate now.
“She won the circuit. Made a lot of money… More in fact than I actually got from her.” Nate pointedly mentioned.
“Listen I had to throw that fan appreciation party! It was for the fans! There’s rules! And pay back my crew’s debts. I told them I would! And Nova Vander is true to her word!” She announced and struck a pose as she set her hands on her hips. This was when Nick looked her over once more and pointed.
“Why the fuck do you have a sword?” He demanded to know.
“This is my dueling cutlass Cainani. For dueling. I am a duelist. On top of being an ace racer that is.” She announced and gave her other hip a pat to point out her revolver. “This is my dueling revolver Wahinani. Also I normally keep six magma pistols on my chest. They also have names but I like to keep them secret until I pull them out.” With that she drew both her weapons and an orange field flashed to life around her pressure suit.
“Seriously? You’ve got a shield?” Nick asked.
“It’s standard in racer rigs. More for crashes than anything else. But that’s why I also had to learn to duel. Shitbags didn’t take kindly to your little sister being this fucking awesome!” Nora spun her revolver around on a finger and took a few steps forward as she demonstrated her skill with the sword. Nick honestly wasn’t sure if her form was any good. The military didn’t actually sword fight anymore. Which was why he had his mag carbine.
“Also did you seriously name your sword and gun after the demigods of beauty and handsomeness?” If anyone had the nerve to commit such sacrilege he figured it would of course be Nora.
“Fuck yeah I did! The only names fitting for a legend like me!” She grinned wide as Nick just glared at Nate.
“I can’t believe you’ve done this to me.” He let out an angry growl.
“What? Did you not tell him?” Nora looked to Nate as she holstered her sword and pistol. “You specifically told him he was on board with your plan!”
“Yes… Because he was. He just… didn’t know the part of my plan that involved bringing you in on it as well.” Nate confessed before focusing on Nick. “Nick, look, we're family. I know it’s a dick move to get you here without telling you ahead of time. But, then you might not have come! And we needed her money! This is an entire family effort! Any one of us couldn’t afford this on our own. Are you really still that mad at her?”
“He’s mad at me still? Nick! I’m sorry! If you tell me why you’re mad I’ll apologize much more specifically!” Nora insisted.
Nick looked between the two of them and then just let out a heavy sigh as he reached up to rub his face for a little. “How much do we have left?”
“Spools?” Nate asked. “Nothing. Or… Nor-Nova how much is left after you bought food?”
“Twenty gold spools.” She pulled her spool pouch from her rig to toss to Nate.
“We have twenty gold spools.” Nate answered.
“How the fuck can we start our lives as debtless if we’ve only got twenty fucking spools?” Nick asked.
“Because I got us a job already.” Nate revealed. “Real simple. Painfully simple. No combat or anything even. We have to take a single passenger from here to Radius in the Traverse. A Lavvine at that. We’ve got the fuel, and can grab more food on the way if we have to. For a full ten thousand spools.”
“One Lavvine? Here to Radius? What’s the catch?” Nick asked.
“Apparently she’s a pain in the butt or something? I dunno. The other Debtless didn’t want her. Also she said she expects discretion. Afterall why pay a crew of Debtless ten thousand instead of just hiring a shuttle right? But we can do discrete. Right?” Nate looked around.
“Yes we can! Super discrete!” Nora gave a big thumbs up.
“Right.” Nate nodded, despite Nora’s answer being the opposite of her own words. “Easy. Plus it’ll give me time to keep working on the Lava Crow. Ah!” Nate raised a hand. “Not because it isn’t ready. Just so I can keep improving upon it.”
“Hmph…” Nick crossed his arms. “Did you even get me a proper fighter? Or are you expecting me to fly a century old dirigible skiff? Oh, or is this thing designed for parasite planes only?”
“I’ve got you a Raptor. Just like you’re used to.” Nate replied. “I have my Armadillo and Nova has-”
“The Comet! Nothing else like it in the sky as it tears through… the sky! No wait… Nothing else lights up the sky like the Comet tearing by! Yeah.” She nodded confidently now.
“A Raptor just like I’m used to? You do know those went out of service halfway through the war right? We’re flying P-19s now.” Nick just let out a sigh and reached into his helmet to run a hand through his hair a moment. “Fine… But I’m Captain.”
“What? I’m the one with the name recognition! Like anyone else could be the face of this crew! I’m the Captain!” Nora growled out as she and Nick glared at each other.
“Neither of you is Captain. Neither of you would accept it. We’re a family. We do this democratically. Three siblings. Three votes. And before either of you says we need a captain just like a pirate ship just for combat we’re not going to be pirates we’re Debtless we go with whoever knows the situation best. Deal?” Nick and Nora now both focused their gaze on Nate instead who kept a steady gaze right back.
“Well… we can do some piracy if we really need to right?” Nora asked, as it was time for Nate and Nick to now give her a surprised look.
“What? No. No piracy.” Nick insisted.
“But what about stealing from bad people? Like other pirates? That’s totally part of what Debtless can do. Right?” Nora checked.
“You mean be… pirate hunters?” Nate asked.
“Yeah…” She rubbed her chin. “Yeah that’s it… The only thing cooler than being a regular pirate. Hunting other pirates… Yeah that could work.” She nodded slowly as if having decided that suited whatever wild story was going on in her head. Which prompted Nick to give Nate another glare.
“Family.” Nate kept using the word like a shield. “And Nick I know you never saw her race in the big leagues but… she is a really good pilot. She did win the circuit.”
“First independent to win the circuit since they established the big five teams.” Nora stood up tall and grinned wide at them.
“We have a chance to find grandpa. And still be Debtless just like mom and dad always wanted.” Nate was still pressing the hard sell.
“Is my kit bag onboard?” Nick asked.
“Yes, plus it’s a nice big room like we all get. I made sure to modify them a little so none of our rooms is bigger than any other. Nova already checked and couldn’t find anything to complain about.” Nora shrugged as if to admit it. “Better than you ever got in the military I’m sure.” Nate smiled.
“Fuck it. Fine. I’m still in.” Nick nodded.
“Wooo! I am sorry again! For whatever you’re mad at me about.” Nova added, but her wide grin didn’t really help things. “But we’re ready to adventure!”
“I hope you’re ready to complete your contract you mean.” Nora jumped a little, as did Nick and he spun to face the sudden appearance of a new figure. The Lavvine, a race of furred humanoids that had long ears, and longer tails. They were also widely regarded by other species as being a bunch of smartasses.
This one made for an interesting figure as she seemed to be in a pressure suit as well, except she had a white coat on over it, with a high collar that covered the lower part of her face, and had thick goggles on over her eyes. Considering their long ears the Lavvine usually preferred air masks instead of full helmets. This one’s ears looked to be golden brown on the backs, though the inside tufts were white. Which were both different from her bright blue hair. Though Nick was never sure why some species with fur also had… hair? Her tail was long and white, with light blue… speckles? Or sort of… spots? Either way she had it wrapped around her leg, and kept close.
“You’re the passenger I assume?” Nick ventured. He looked past her and saw a team of Joss carrying a set of massive trunks behind them. The one Lavvine had a baggage train bigger than some regiments! “I’m Nick, this is Nate, and that’s Nora.”
“Nova! Nooovaaa!” Nora growled out. “Nova Velocity Vanders! At your service! Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” She struck another pose, hands on her hips.
“I haven’t. No.” Nova seemed to deflate a little as the Lavvine said that. “Now, I’m not well versed on human naming conventions. Mostly because you humans have too many culture groups. Are you all related in some fashion?”
“Siblings.” Nate waved at the others.
“So, presuming the family name is secondary that means you are all Nick, Nate, and Nora-”
“Nova! Nova!”
“Nova Vanders… Is keeping the same initials customary in the culture?” The Lavvine smoothly adjusted after Nora’s interruption and looked around at them for a moment.
“No.” Nick shook his head.
“And… who named you? Is it by paternal or maternal order in your culture?” She asked next.
“It’s really whoever. But since you’re curious our father is Norm Vanders.” Nick answered.
“Norm, Nick, Nate, and Nova Vanders… Does it make it easier to get your initials marked on everything?” The Lavvine looked between them.
“Yeah. Now about your stuff?” Nick waved at all the trunks. “Is all this necessary?”
“Yes, take it on board. Drop it off inside as close to the entry as possible. Do not tarry.” The Lavvine ordered the Joss laborers who grumbled but began to haul the chests up the ramp into the ship.
“Uh, we should probably get those stored properly.” Nate began but the Lavvine held up a hand.
“I need a moment to speak with you all privately.” Nick gave a worried glance over at his sibling who all looked around at each other a moment in concern. “Now then, I believe I spoke with Nate about this?” She asked and Nate nodded to confirm. “I must inform you that your negotiating skills need work. You failed to determine just why I was offering such an exorbitant amount of spools for a simple transport job. You see, I am being hunted by a notoriously wealthy and powerful maniac who wants me dead.”
“Yes!” Nova pumped a fist in the air. “Legendary adventure! Called it!”
Nick however was just glaring at Nate. “Shit. That’s why no one else wanted the contract?” He asked. “I hate negotiating. I’m so bad at it.”
“How?” Nick asked. “You’ve been on salvage fleets for years!”
“Yeah, as a salvager, not a barter guy!” Nate defensively huffed.
“You told me you got a great deal on the ship!” Nick waved at the Lava Crow behind them.
“Because they thought it was haunted!” Nate reminded him.
“You told me it wasn’t!” Nick growled.
“Interesting. I haven’t witnessed human specters before. That might be interesting.” The Lavvine mused.
“Okay…” Nick sighed. “Why does this maniac want you dead?”
“He thinks I’ll ruin his grand prophecy. Which I know nothing about. Just that he wants me killed. So I was forced to liquidate nearly all my assets to pay off my debt so I can’t be tracked by a debt code, and in fact become Debtless like all of you. I’m unsure how long we have, but I think he might be nearing the city so I would suggest we move quickly.” The Lavvine insisted which triggered Nick’s memory.
“This maniac… do they use gold and blue paint with pearl trim?” He thought back to the ships on the Credit Governor’s palace.
“Yes. Have you seen them?” The moment she asked that they heard a siren go off for a moment from the city’s public announcement speakers. “Ah. He has already begun his hostile takeover of the Governor’s position then. He will shortly announce an extremely large bounty on my head, and a lesser bounty on the heads of anyone who protects me. I suggest you get the hangar doors open and we leave immediately.”
“Why? Why are we taking this deal?” Nick immediately asked. “Why get involved?”
“I have done nothing wrong. Committed no crime. Yet, still he wants me dead.” The Lavvine explained. “Oh, also, his prophecy has something to do with the end of existence. If you’re comfortable with that then by all means turn me over. You’ll be quite rich for however long existence lasts. If he doesn’t betray you.”
“Attention all citizens of Luminet city!” A scratchy voice echoed out around the hangar over the speakers now. “A hostile takeover of the Governor’s position has been completed! All city employees now have a new Creditor! Failure to comply with new protocols will be met with triple debt penalties!”
“Nick this guy sounds like a total tool.” Nora said.
“All Debtless are to immediately renounce their ways and proceed to the nearest credit station to initiate a new line of credit with the Governor’s palace immediately or face severe consequences.” The voice continued.
“Yeah, fuck this. I’m going to spin up the engines.” Nate immediately turned and began to run up the ramp into the ship.
“What’s your name?” Nick asked the Lavvine.
“Tessa Wilde.” She extended a hand out to him.
“We’ll get you to Radius.” Nick gave her hand a firm shake as Nora grinned wide and clapped her hands. Nick looked around a moment examining the hangar doors at the far side while the voice on the speakers kept rattling on about adjusted city overtime rates and calling up all guards and militia forces immediately. There was no way they’d get permission from the Hangar Master to open up. “That’s got to be the motor for the door. We need to get it going. But…” He looked up along the ceiling. “Those have to be the counter weights… we need to disable the locks.”
“I can manage the motor.” Tessa offered.
“I got that lock!” Nora was already running off to one side of the hangar. Nick just turned and began to run towards a ladder heading up to the lock he was not in charge of. It was near the main door leading out into the hangar’s central hallway and he could see the Joss guards from earlier now all looking up at the speakers, obviously confused.
“Furthermore-” The voice kept on. “I seek to obtain a particular Lavvine of interest to me by the name of Tessa Wilde. I am setting a bounty on her. Alive only. For one hundred thousand gold spools.” Nick grabbed hold of the ladder leading up to the counter weight and began to dash up it as fast as he could manage. “Any individuals found protecting her will receive a bounty of twenty five thousand gold spools brought in dead or alive.”
“This guy isn’t fucking around…” Nick muttered as he reached the weight. He could see where the mechanical lock was engaged and quickly smashed open the emergency release lever as the weight began to drop down. Grabbing the sides of the ladder he then slid down it back to the hangar floor. While he was doing this he heard the grinding of the motor begin and the hangar doors on the far side started to slowly open. This caught the attention three Joss however who started to peel off from the rest of the group and head his way.
“Hey! Human! Your hangar has no debt code. Are you Debtless? Did you have a Lavvine head in here earlier?” One asked as they began to fan out a little.
“Nope! Got us mistaken! You’re thinking of the hangar behind you!” He called out and kept facing them, even as he was backing up towards the ship.
“Any individuals killed in the process of acquiring this Lavvine will have their wrongful death fees paid off in full and will not count towards the bounty offered. To ensure a smooth transition of power between Governor credit lines all guards killed during the takeover shall have their debts purged, and family shall have an additional five hundred gold spool bereavement payout.” The voice kept going. Nick heard some other commotion behind him at the ship even as the engines began to spin up and fill the hangar bay with a steadily growing rumble.
“That’s a Lavvine over there!” One of the guards insisted. They hadn’t grabbed their guns yet, but their hands were close… Nick started to slowly reach for his carbine, but didn’t want to grab it just yet.
“Hey man, I’m Debtless there’s no wrongful death fee. It’s just straight up murder if you do anything.” This did make the guards pause. Would that be enough?
“If he’s willing to pay off the rest… I think he’ll ignored a light bit of murder…” One offered. Nick looked between the three, and prepared to grab his gun.
“Hey assholes!” Nick and the three Joss guards stopped and looked over at Nora standing to their side. Her face shield was down, hiding her face but he could picture her grin. “Do any of you know who I am?”
“No?” The guards glanced at each other in confusion.
“Well… If you knew who I was you’d know what I’d do if you try anything stupid!” She growled.
“Maybe… But we don’t know who you are.” The Joss replied with a shrug.
“Well, I tried.” In a flash Nora drew her revolver and fired twice. Nick was already yanking his carbine from his rig as he saw one of the Joss’ horns go flying off his head while a crimson bubble of blood erupted from the top of his head. The other guards were turning to Nora as they drew their weapons but Nick was already firing a burst into the one on the far right. The first bullet struck him in the chest, which was absorbed by the armor yet started to knock him back. The second bullet caught him in the collar bone, and the third hit right in the throat above his armor.
Now the middle guard was stuck between the two and hesitated for just a moment, which was all Nora needed as she lunged forward, driving her sword straight through his chest as if the armor was made of paper. Nick could see the surprised look on the Joss’ face for a moment before Nora reared back and kicked him in the chest so she could yank her sword free as his body tumbled to the floor. Now the other Joss were crying out and heading their way however and Nick turned to sprint for the ship. “RUN!”
Focused on the ship now he sprinted for the ramp even as he saw the Joss laborers from before clustered around it. They likely were considering a change of career as Tessa approached. But to Nick’s surprise she reached out her hand and a fan of lightning arced out from it at the laborers. With that they scattered and ran, providing a clear path up the ramp for Tessa to run up. From behind him the Joss began to fire his way and Nick did his best to shoot over his shoulder to try and keep them from aiming too carefully.
Even as he ran towards the ramp he heard the crackling of bullets bouncing off a shield. “MOVE YOUR ASS NICK!” He felt a hand press on his back as he realized Nora was running behind him to use her shield to protect them both.
“I’M RUNNING!” He yelled back at her as they quickly rushed up the boarding ramp while bullets pinged off the hull around them. His first introduction into the actual interior of the ship was a short hallway opening into a hab area of some kind. But before he could really inspect it his foot struck hard against a trunk left behind he hadn’t spotted and he fell face forward over it hard, tumbling to the deck in a heap.
“NATE! GO!” He heard Nora scream and the deck below them started to rumble as the ship started to move. More bullets were hitting the side as he tried to roll over and pull himself up to his feet. A set of hands took hold of his arm to help pull him up as he stood face to face with Tessa for a moment.
“I know you had little choice but I do appreciate your taking the contract.” She mentioned.
“That’s just how I am baby! Cause I’m fucking legendary!” Nora howled out with a laugh. “Now Nick, help my crank up the ramp.”
“This thing has a fucking crank ramp?!” Nick gasped out, and stepped over the trunk on the ground to help her crank the ramp up into place as he watched the hangar bay move past then the underside of the city came into view, with the air rushing past as they got the ramp up and the door sealed.
“Welcome to the life of the Debtless Nick!” Nora laughed and slapped his shoulder. “It’s going to be a ton of fun!” One thing Nick was certain about in a now very uncertain world, is that it wasn’t going to be fun.

…The raging river, pulled them down.
Now they’ll always, be together,
In that Happy Hunting Ground…
- Running Bear by Sonny James
“Snakeyes! New roller, please, next up.” The game runner raked in the dice and chips and ignored the despair in the countenance of the most recent “high roller”. Ted shook his head and other people crowded him away from the dice pit. He was almost out of funds and it was still early. He’d budgeted his, “loss level” carefully to maximize his time at the reservation casino. It was an older one, filled with stereotypical paintings and statues intended to honor the local First Nations Tribes while fulfilling the expectations of rude tourists. He looked around forlornly for a new game to play. He didn’t care for the slots or the drawn-out and ever-shifting card games… ah, Blackjack! There was an opening at the table.
He rushed over before anyone else could snag it and bustled onto the chair. “Okay to deal me in on the next hand?” He interrupted the dealer, who ignored him until he was done dealing out the rest of the players and raking in the chips. He still did not speak but once Ted placed the minimum bet, he flipped a card down in front of him and the game began. Ted immediately started winning the straightforward game. He picked up most of his losses from his unfortunate run at craps and was finally enjoying himself. The couple at the far end of the table had apparently had enough and didn’t care for the new player. Ted liked to talk to new people and thought he was good at it. Before long, the other players had left and it was down to him, the dealer, and an older man, who wore a black cowboy style hat and chain-smoked thin cigarillos.
Ted, grinning heartily at his latest win, glanced over at the man, who had just fired up his next cancer-stick, “You know casinos, and a few bars are the last public places where anyone smokes. I remember when there were smoking sections at most places and my parents told me that there used to be no restrictions. I’ll bet you get plenty of pressure to stop from your family and friends. It’s a pretty bad habit for your long-term health…” Ted usually rambled on past any non-verbal cues that people might give him to stop talking, yet his diatribe came to a screeching halt at the look with which the stern-faced elder favored him.
The older man drew in a long pull on the firestick and then exhaled the stinking cloud into Ted’s face. He coughed a little and gagged at the odor of the raw blend of tobacco and chemicals. The old one removed the cigarillo from his mouth and tapped ashes onto the edge of the table and down onto the floor at his toes, “Sonny, nobody cares. Nobody wants your opinion, and you are not special, no matter what your mommy told you. I’ll do as I please and if you don’t like it, go bother people at another table.”
Ted gaped in shock. In his mind, the man’s words verged on an “assault”. He looked helplessly at the dealer, who just ducked his head and tried not to laugh. Indignant, he rose, took his pile of chips and fled into the depths of the gaming house in search of a friendlier table. He didn’t find one that he liked, so he finally gave up and sat at the bar. The bartender seemed to ignore him in favor of tidying up her workspace. He cleared his throat and received only a glance. He mumbled as much to himself as to her, “I just want a drink while I wait for a table to open.” He wondered at her stony silence, maybe she resents me for being…
His vocal ruminations were interrupted by a feminine voice, “What do you want?”
Ted looked up to see the bartender, mocking smile in place below shining, mesmerizing eyes. Ted simply gaped and eventually worked his jaw uselessly. The bartender shrugged and walked back to the other end of the bar. She spoke with a large man who was clearly part of the security team. He glared at Ted while she spoke. Ted wanted to avoid a confrontation. He’d been conditioned that he should seek authorities if such a situation loomed. Yet casino security was the only available authority here locally. There were Tribal Police on the Reservation, but he wasn’t sure they would want to listen to him. He finally shrugged and decided to go back over to the hotel for the rest of the night. This trip had been very unsatisfying… like all those he’d taken since he moved away from his parents’ home a few years previously.
There was an indoor walkway to the hotel, but Ted decided to go by the outdoor route to get some fresh air and enjoy the natural beauty that the builders had incorporated into the facility. As he walked dejectedly down the sidewalk, local flora pressing in from each side, he heard, from the nearby forest, a screeching wail. It startled him and he had to stop a moment to catch his breath and wait for his heart rate to slow to something more manageable. He realized that it must have been an owl or some other night bird. His father had told him that there were always weird noises “out in the sticks”.
As he plunged his hands into his pockets and determined to go to his room for rest, he caught the faint smell of burning tobacco on the breeze. It wafted over his shoulder from behind and caused him to emit a feeble cough. He looked back in annoyance. In the shadows behind him, he saw a figure. It was dark and stood still in a way that made him uncomfortable. An orange glowing circle of embers hovered around the face and rendered just enough light to illuminate the blue-grey curls of smoke as they exited the tiny conflagration and rose above the brim of a black hat. The ember flared for a moment and then flashed to the ground and was snuffed by a shadowed… foot? It wasn’t exactly clear to Ted; the figure’s lower extremities were... blurred. An even brighter flare, from a lighter or match stabbed into Ted’s eyes as the Smoker lit his next cigarillo.
Ted glared irritation but felt uncomfortable at the unnatural stillness to which the figure returned once the new fire was lit. He coughed once more, this time deliberately in a passive-aggressive attempt to communicate his displeasure and resumed his walk. He strained to listen behind him to determine whether the figure followed. He truly wished to get away from the stink and the threat of cancer or other respiratory illnesses. He slowed to listen, then gave up and looked over his shoulder again. There was no figure in the dark back near the exit to the casino. He turned to resume his walk, but a smoky black form now loomed before him! Its eyes glowed and smoked like large twin cigars as it gaped a maw that emitted pure black smoke and glowed with blue flames within the deep tunnel of the throat. Ted’s consciousness fled his body and found itself in a burning nightmare landscape that extended for as far as he could perceive in all directions.
**** * ****
Darnell, known to his public as “Murder Bush” a deliberate mistranslation of “merde bouche” a.k.a. “Deadly Rapper” for having been a suspect in a shooting back in his youth, stepped up to the dice pit as the geeky dude left. He had plenty of chips and cash to back them. His entourage was there to support him and kiss his backside as often as he wished. He rolled through six passes before he crapped out. He hadn’t over-bet, so he’d won a small amount. He picked up his latest winning chips and handed them to the hostess who had kept him well plied with drinks and snacks. He was sure that for the right price, she would take care of his other needs. He played a few card tables and finished with Roulette.
Each time he won a few chips, he passed them on to the young woman or to one of his flunkies. In the end, they had all received at least some reward for the praises they’d heaped upon him; not for any real accomplishments, but rather to curry favor with the man whom they considered to be wealthy and important: a celebrity. The girl stayed at his side and except for when he asked her questions, she said nothing. He liked that: bitch know her place, he reveled in internal satisfaction. He liked her looks too. She was medium height and a little, “thick”. She was clearly interested but hadn’t gotten in his way when he flirted with other women. He truly liked this one. The more he considered her, the more he wanted to get down to business.
Eventually, he posed the question to her, “How much for the next few hours?” His brazen suggestion that she would take money for sexual favors was the final test. If she grew angry, then she didn’t appreciate his genius…
“Whatever you think is fair. How about we see if I can satisfy you? If I can, then you may want to be generous… as you have been so far.” She hefted the chips so that the pieces clinked in her palm. “If not, I don’t deserve a reward.”
She had passed with flying colors. Might even take this one back to civilization with me, he purred in his mind. He’d always thought of himself as a Big Cat… maybe a leopard or jaguar, definitely something dangerous and sleek. His need grew more intense by the moment. He desperately wanted this woman. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” He husked in a voice grown thick with desire.
They reached his suite, his groupies having been dismissed to their own nefarious pursuits, even his bodyguard. The big man had shrugged, “Your call boss-man.” and then stumped across the hallway to his own room. Now he was finally alone with… her. He stripped off his shirt and flipped his shoes into a corner. She stood by the window and watched. The drinks he’d consumed finally caught up with him before he’d shucked his pants and drawers, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He was excited, which made urinating a challenge, but it had to be done, so that he could maximize his pleasure. When he stepped from the restroom, au natural, he saw that his latest conquest had done the same and now stood, bare to the world and staring out the window, all the curtains on it pushed to one side, so that the night loomed and the light of a single small desk lamp lit the room. He stalked over to her, ready to take her right there at the window in full view of anyone who looked up from the outside. He secretly hoped for an audience. He enjoyed having others watch him take what he wanted.
She turned to face him, her head lowered… no, it had sunken into her body, only her hair remained above her shoulders! A… mouth, gaping and slavering opened on her stomach, a mouth too large for her body and rimmed with rows of teeth like sharpened spikes. She stepped forward to embrace him and the screaming began… sounds that he was accustomed to eliciting from others rather than emitting from his own person.
**** * ****
“Rhino” was unhappy. He didn’t like to leave Darnell unattended. Perhaps now that his boss was in the room, he could go stand guard outside the door. He took care of some personal ablutions as he wolfed down a couple of energy bars and then walked out into the hallway. He started to settle in front of Darnell’s door, when he heard a muffled scream and faint… slobbering-gobbling noises come from the other side. He quickly tried the door, initially too panicked to think of the extra key card with which Darnell had entrusted him. He fumbled for it and soon had the door open. The interior was completely dark. The light from the hallway spilled inward but didn’t seem to reach as far into the room as it should.
He drew his pistol from the holster on his waistband and began to stalk forward, “Boss, you okay? You hurt?” The room was as silent as a tomb, he shivered a little as that thought crossed his mind. Over by the closed drapes, he smelled something awful: fresh blood and spilled entrails… recent death. His feet squelched on wet carpet. He turned around quickly. There had been no noise, but he’d felt a… presence. There she stood, arms spread wide, mouth on her gut spread wider. Rhino wasn’t one to scream or yell, even in extremis, so no others would come to this room to investigate.
**** * ****
Shelly was glad when the rowdy group left the roulette wheel that sat behind her favorite row of slots. The former “one-armed bandits”, that were now, “multiple button digital bandits” lined every available wall space, and in some spaces stood in rows that drew regulars like a dung-heap draws flies. She’d grabbed her favorite machine early in the evening and sat sliding in dollar bills and working up her points. It was called “Buffalo Dance” and featured images of American Bison and feather-bedecked hunters. The theme on the screen matched and she hoped to one day see the “White Buffalo” image adorn the entire set of images… the grand prize view. Despite the fun graphics, it was her favorite because it was near a restroom and a free soda and snack bar. She found herself ahead and on a roll. She absently lipped her dangling cigarette back into her mouth for a long draw. The smoke obscured the screen for a moment, and then she noted a shadow that lengthened across the reflective surface. Someone stood close behind her. Someone who exuded a chilly air. She paused and looked around, “Can I help you?”
There was no answer, though the shadow shifted slightly as if its caster had heard her.
Now she grew annoyed, this is just the sort of thing to break my winning streak! she raged internally. She braced her hands against the machine and worked her buttocks to make the stool on which she perched spin, so she could confront her harasser. She gaped, and nearly lost her cigarette, there was no one standing near enough to cast the shadow. No one even faced her. She chalked it up to excitement, maybe someone stepped too close when passing to go to the restroom, she thought, still a little annoyed and... chilled.
She turned back to her game and continued working the buttons, pumping in bills, and winning, a little at a time, the points now built well above her investment. This weekend is gonna pay for the last two months of losing and breaking even, she thought triumphantly. The shadow loomed across the screen once more, this time even larger, as though the figure that cast it stood closer. The shape was amorphous but hinted at anthropomorphic. She shivered as an icy breeze flowed around her, as though the air conditioning had sent out a short, cold burst, a minor malfunction…
She turned around with more alacrity and determination than the last time, mouth agape, cigarette once more dangling… precipitously and endangering the cleavage she displayed, already baked and wrinkled from years of sunbathing. The frigid air passed, and no one stood anywhere near her, though a customer approached, headed for either snacks or relief. “Excuse me sir, did you just see someone, maybe a large man, standing behind me?”
The man paused and looked at her in confusion. He had clearly been absorbed in his own thoughts, “Er, what? Uh, No. I wasn’t really paying attention, but… no.” He bustled on toward the free fountain drinks machine.
Shelly shrugged, can’t give up now, the pot is even bigger. She checked her points; she was nearing her all-time high. The winnings would pay her space rental fee at the RV park for the entire month. She pressed and played the buttons more fervently than ever, determined to break the bank on straight points or to reach that magical spin that would offer an instant reward of $10,000.00. She set her new points record and reveled for a moment. She reached for the now small stack of dollar bills the rest having been devoured by the machine. She fed in the entire remaining amount, then once more gazed at the screen. It was entirely blackened by a looming shadow.
The temperature of the air around her plummeted and she shuddered with the sudden biting cold. The cigarette was long extinguished, and she’d let the cold fag fall into the ash tray built onto the side of the machine opposite the drink holder. She was so cold, and she wanted to cry out for help, but the darkness closed in around her as the shadow enveloped her and cut off her breathing. Her fingers, paused above the “spin” button, struck and as her consciousness faded, she saw the flashing blue light and heard the blare of the winner’s siren. White Buffalo images filled all nine spaces. I won! The grand prize!
**** * ****
Terry filled his large cup and stood sipping and daydreaming. He’d lost everything he’d budgeted to lose. Yet he knew that one more try would put him back in black for this trip. He mused about what he would do with the prize money. He’d set his limit at $300.00 and had quickly lost it all on slots. Maybe he could risk just a few more dollars… skip a lunch or two until his next paycheck if it didn’t work. He was startled by the jackpot winner’s flashing light and siren that went off just behind him. That bitch! He yelled internally. Figures some old used up skank would win the big prize. He looked over at the nearby machine with anger and envy vying for control of his senses. She was gone!
He stepped over to the machine and looked around in confusion. Maybe she’d gone to the restroom? No, she’d have passed right by me. He shook his head and stepped up to look at the screen. He could still feel the recent presence of a player, the trace of warmth from a human body that might linger in a space for just a moment after the human had vacated the space. He looked around the casino floor, she was nowhere in sight. She’d been wearing a low-cut silver-spangled top that was cut way too low for her sagging, sun-ravaged bosom. She should be easy to spy, she looked like a deflated disco ball that had fallen from the ceiling to play slots. The only thing that came his way was a train of employees, led by a waitress in a skimpy outfit with purple sparkles and carrying a tray with a glass and a dark bottle. She was followed by other employees, who’d formed a sort of conga line: they sang a congratulatory chorus as they approached.
Terry gaped for a moment when he realized that they thought he was the big winner. He’d have to deny it of course. Surely the woman would be back at any moment to claim her prize. The floor cameras would have recorded who had sat at the machine, but it was too late. The group of enthused employees encircled him, and the attractive young waitress poured him a glass of champagne and snuggled up to him. The manager approached and seized his hand for a vigorous shake, “Well done sir! I see that not only have you hit the jackpot, but you’ve raised an additional $3,000.00 in points. A fabulous prize and well played I’m sure.”
Terry was flabbergasted. He’d never won anything like this… I still haven’t, not really, he reminded himself. He rarely broke even on his gambling forays, whether to the casino, or the corner store for lottery tickets and video slots. He allowed himself to be swept into the reverie and led from the machine to the bar. The employees peeled away as they approached, and he soon found himself with only the bottle and a receipt that he could cash out before he left the premises. A sullen-looking woman stood behind the bar, wiping glasses and a large, mean-looking security staffer menaced the far end. He already had his bottle, so he wasn’t sure why the staff members had deposited him with these two killjoys. He shrugged, picked up the champagne and started to walk away from the bar.
“You can’t take that with you. Either drink it here or give it to me and I’ll put it in the trash.” The bartender stated in monotone.
The security officer stood up straight from where he’d been leaning against the far wall, apparently propping up the building. He folded his massive arms in a threatening manner. Silly, thought Terry, folded arms should be a hindrance, but I get the feeling he’s dangerous regardless. He figured that he’d had enough anyway and set the nearly empty bottle on the bar, “You can keep it ma’am. I can afford another at the hotel.” Terry started to walk away from the bar, but a huge ham-like hand seized his shoulder.
Sausage-sized fingers applied painful pressure, “You apologize to the lady.” The wet heat from a mouth placed uncomfortably close to his ear and beath smelling of river bottom, sent a shiver of disgust through his body. The voice was low and deep as the river that ran past the back side of the property.
Terry decided on the better part of valor and head facing forward to avoid the obscene orifice, “Sorry ma’am, I meant no offense.”
The fingers let go and a harsh laugh sounded from behind the bar. “He don’t even know why he’s apologizing, fool. He ain’t worth the trouble, let him go.”
Terry felt a slight shove and he was sent on his way to the cash-out window. There he met with the lead cashier, an older woman in drab clothing, “I’m sorry sir, we give out only these pre-paid cards, we cannot provide cash over $1,000.00. However, you can treat them like a debit or credit card.” the cashier informed him. It seemed he had no choice, so he accepted. Thirteen grand is thirteen grand, he assured himself. He was elated, though he continued to glance around nervously, waiting for the woman in the sparkly fish-scale top to accost him and name him thief. Yet she was nowhere to be seen. The floor was full of players, some laughing, some intense, some dejected or mesmerized by the games of chance in which they’d lost themselves.
He thought about what to do with the rest of his evening. He didn’t have a hotel room; he’d planned to sleep in his station wagon as he always did before the long haul home. Perhaps he should get a room? Maybe they would take him without a reservation… he giggled a little at the unintended pun: a reservation at the Reservation… he shook his head to clear his overreaction to the silly internal joke. He decided that maybe someone on staff could help him. He approached the major domo at the front entrance that led to the interior walkway and the hotel beyond, “Excuse me sir, do you know whether the hotel will accept a resident without a prior reservation?”
The man, single dark braid wrapped in a leather holder and draped over one shoulder, looked at him gravely, “Yes, I know.” He said nothing more and did not smile as though he’d intended to be humorous.
Terry tried again, “Will you tell me please?”
The man flicked his chin in the direction of the hotel, “See the clerk at the desk.”
“Jerk, you’d think I hadn’t pissed away enough cash in this place over the past few years,” Terry muttered as he stumped toward the hotel, ensuring that he was well beyond earshot before he spoke. His head had begun to buzz a little from the champagne. Took a while for it to affect me, he mused. The hallway appeared to narrow, and his peripheral vision grew grey. He felt dizzy and as he entered the main lobby, the large room began to spin. His last view was of the sky-blue ceiling decorated with a few puffy clouds as it faded into darkness like the sun had set.
He awakened to the sounds of voices chattering happily. He looked around, his vision blurred slightly and his head feeling heavy and sore. He soon found that he could not move his arms or legs… they were bound… he was strapped to a table. He saw numerous bodies moving about in the mostly dark space in which he found himself. “Please.” He croaked, throat dry and feeling scraped. “Please, help me, let me loose. Loose me…” his perceptions cleared slowly, and he saw that the bodies that moved around him, now chanting rhythmically rather than babble-chattering, were emaciated. The owners showed as much bone through their skin as would a dead thing, long decayed. He noted spikes above a few heads… no, antlers… The rest wore… masks? Of various beasts… no, the skulls of those creatures, still filled with glistening fangs. Their dance grew ever more frantic, more energetic than they should be capable of performing. Then one of them reached out with a stick, on the end of which was a small claw, taken and preserved from some dead animal. It used the claw to gouge out a scoop of flesh from Terry’s side. He screamed in torment and horror. His screams soon matched the rhythm of the chanting and they went on for a long time before they at last faded when he’d lost too much blood to remain conscious.
**** * **** END PAGE 1 of 2

…The raging river, pulled them down.
Now they’ll always, be together,
In that Happy Hunting Ground…
- Running Bear by Sonny James
“Snakeyes! New roller, please, next up.” The game runner raked in the dice and chips and ignored the despair in the countenance of the most recent “high roller”. Ted shook his head and other people crowded him away from the dice pit. He was almost out of funds and it was still early. He’d budgeted his, “loss level” carefully to maximize his time at the reservation casino. It was an older one, filled with stereotypical paintings and statues intended to honor the local First Nations Tribes while fulfilling the expectations of rude tourists. He looked around forlornly for a new game to play. He didn’t care for the slots or the drawn-out and ever-shifting card games… ah, Blackjack! There was an opening at the table.
He rushed over before anyone else could snag it and bustled onto the chair. “Okay to deal me in on the next hand?” He interrupted the dealer, who ignored him until he was done dealing out the rest of the players and raking in the chips. He still did not speak but once Ted placed the minimum bet, he flipped a card down in front of him and the game began. Ted immediately started winning the straightforward game. He picked up most of his losses from his unfortunate run at craps and was finally enjoying himself. The couple at the far end of the table had apparently had enough and didn’t care for the new player. Ted liked to talk to new people and thought he was good at it. Before long, the other players had left and it was down to him, the dealer, and an older man, who wore a black cowboy style hat and chain-smoked thin cigarillos.
Ted, grinning heartily at his latest win, glanced over at the man, who had just fired up his next cancer-stick, “You know casinos, and a few bars are the last public places where anyone smokes. I remember when there were smoking sections at most places and my parents told me that there used to be no restrictions. I’ll bet you get plenty of pressure to stop from your family and friends. It’s a pretty bad habit for your long-term health…” Ted usually rambled on past any non-verbal cues that people might give him to stop talking, yet his diatribe came to a screeching halt at the look with which the stern-faced elder favored him.
The older man drew in a long pull on the firestick and then exhaled the stinking cloud into Ted’s face. He coughed a little and gagged at the odor of the raw blend of tobacco and chemicals. The old one removed the cigarillo from his mouth and tapped ashes onto the edge of the table and down onto the floor at his toes, “Sonny, nobody cares. Nobody wants your opinion, and you are not special, no matter what your mommy told you. I’ll do as I please and if you don’t like it, go bother people at another table.”
Ted gaped in shock. In his mind, the man’s words verged on an “assault”. He looked helplessly at the dealer, who just ducked his head and tried not to laugh. Indignant, he rose, took his pile of chips and fled into the depths of the gaming house in search of a friendlier table. He didn’t find one that he liked, so he finally gave up and sat at the bar. The bartender seemed to ignore him in favor of tidying up her workspace. He cleared his throat and received only a glance. He mumbled as much to himself as to her, “I just want a drink while I wait for a table to open.” He wondered at her stony silence, maybe she resents me for being…
His vocal ruminations were interrupted by a feminine voice, “What do you want?”
Ted looked up to see the bartender, mocking smile in place below shining, mesmerizing eyes. Ted simply gaped and eventually worked his jaw uselessly. The bartender shrugged and walked back to the other end of the bar. She spoke with a large man who was clearly part of the security team. He glared at Ted while she spoke. Ted wanted to avoid a confrontation. He’d been conditioned that he should seek authorities if such a situation loomed. Yet casino security was the only available authority here locally. There were Tribal Police on the Reservation, but he wasn’t sure they would want to listen to him. He finally shrugged and decided to go back over to the hotel for the rest of the night. This trip had been very unsatisfying… like all those he’d taken since he moved away from his parents’ home a few years previously.
There was an indoor walkway to the hotel, but Ted decided to go by the outdoor route to get some fresh air and enjoy the natural beauty that the builders had incorporated into the facility. As he walked dejectedly down the sidewalk, local flora pressing in from each side, he heard, from the nearby forest, a screeching wail. It startled him and he had to stop a moment to catch his breath and wait for his heart rate to slow to something more manageable. He realized that it must have been an owl or some other night bird. His father had told him that there were always weird noises “out in the sticks”.
As he plunged his hands into his pockets and determined to go to his room for rest, he caught the faint smell of burning tobacco on the breeze. It wafted over his shoulder from behind and caused him to emit a feeble cough. He looked back in annoyance. In the shadows behind him, he saw a figure. It was dark and stood still in a way that made him uncomfortable. An orange glowing circle of embers hovered around the face and rendered just enough light to illuminate the blue-grey curls of smoke as they exited the tiny conflagration and rose above the brim of a black hat. The ember flared for a moment and then flashed to the ground and was snuffed by a shadowed… foot? It wasn’t exactly clear to Ted; the figure’s lower extremities were... blurred. An even brighter flare, from a lighter or match stabbed into Ted’s eyes as the Smoker lit his next cigarillo.
Ted glared irritation but felt uncomfortable at the unnatural stillness to which the figure returned once the new fire was lit. He coughed once more, this time deliberately in a passive-aggressive attempt to communicate his displeasure and resumed his walk. He strained to listen behind him to determine whether the figure followed. He truly wished to get away from the stink and the threat of cancer or other respiratory illnesses. He slowed to listen, then gave up and looked over his shoulder again. There was no figure in the dark back near the exit to the casino. He turned to resume his walk, but a smoky black form now loomed before him! Its eyes glowed and smoked like large twin cigars as it gaped a maw that emitted pure black smoke and glowed with blue flames within the deep tunnel of the throat. Ted’s consciousness fled his body and found itself in a burning nightmare landscape that extended for as far as he could perceive in all directions.
**** * ****
Darnell, known to his public as “Murder Bush” a deliberate mistranslation of “merde bouche” a.k.a. “Deadly Rapper” for having been a suspect in a shooting back in his youth, stepped up to the dice pit as the geeky dude left. He had plenty of chips and cash to back them. His entourage was there to support him and kiss his backside as often as he wished. He rolled through six passes before he crapped out. He hadn’t over-bet, so he’d won a small amount. He picked up his latest winning chips and handed them to the hostess who had kept him well plied with drinks and snacks. He was sure that for the right price, she would take care of his other needs. He played a few card tables and finished with Roulette.
Each time he won a few chips, he passed them on to the young woman or to one of his flunkies. In the end, they had all received at least some reward for the praises they’d heaped upon him; not for any real accomplishments, but rather to curry favor with the man whom they considered to be wealthy and important: a celebrity. The girl stayed at his side and except for when he asked her questions, she said nothing. He liked that: bitch know her place, he reveled in internal satisfaction. He liked her looks too. She was medium height and a little, “thick”. She was clearly interested but hadn’t gotten in his way when he flirted with other women. He truly liked this one. The more he considered her, the more he wanted to get down to business.
Eventually, he posed the question to her, “How much for the next few hours?” His brazen suggestion that she would take money for sexual favors was the final test. If she grew angry, then she didn’t appreciate his genius…
“Whatever you think is fair. How about we see if I can satisfy you? If I can, then you may want to be generous… as you have been so far.” She hefted the chips so that the pieces clinked in her palm. “If not, I don’t deserve a reward.”
She had passed with flying colors. Might even take this one back to civilization with me, he purred in his mind. He’d always thought of himself as a Big Cat… maybe a leopard or jaguar, definitely something dangerous and sleek. His need grew more intense by the moment. He desperately wanted this woman. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” He husked in a voice grown thick with desire.
They reached his suite, his groupies having been dismissed to their own nefarious pursuits, even his bodyguard. The big man had shrugged, “Your call boss-man.” and then stumped across the hallway to his own room. Now he was finally alone with… her. He stripped off his shirt and flipped his shoes into a corner. She stood by the window and watched. The drinks he’d consumed finally caught up with him before he’d shucked his pants and drawers, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He was excited, which made urinating a challenge, but it had to be done, so that he could maximize his pleasure. When he stepped from the restroom, au natural, he saw that his latest conquest had done the same and now stood, bare to the world and staring out the window, all the curtains on it pushed to one side, so that the night loomed and the light of a single small desk lamp lit the room. He stalked over to her, ready to take her right there at the window in full view of anyone who looked up from the outside. He secretly hoped for an audience. He enjoyed having others watch him take what he wanted.
She turned to face him, her head lowered… no, it had sunken into her body, only her hair remained above her shoulders! A… mouth, gaping and slavering opened on her stomach, a mouth too large for her body and rimmed with rows of teeth like sharpened spikes. She stepped forward to embrace him and the screaming began… sounds that he was accustomed to eliciting from others rather than emitting from his own person.
**** * ****
“Rhino” was unhappy. He didn’t like to leave Darnell unattended. Perhaps now that his boss was in the room, he could go stand guard outside the door. He took care of some personal ablutions as he wolfed down a couple of energy bars and then walked out into the hallway. He started to settle in front of Darnell’s door, when he heard a muffled scream and faint… slobbering-gobbling noises come from the other side. He quickly tried the door, initially too panicked to think of the extra key card with which Darnell had entrusted him. He fumbled for it and soon had the door open. The interior was completely dark. The light from the hallway spilled inward but didn’t seem to reach as far into the room as it should.
He drew his pistol from the holster on his waistband and began to stalk forward, “Boss, you okay? You hurt?” The room was as silent as a tomb, he shivered a little as that thought crossed his mind. Over by the closed drapes, he smelled something awful: fresh blood and spilled entrails… recent death. His feet squelched on wet carpet. He turned around quickly. There had been no noise, but he’d felt a… presence. There she stood, arms spread wide, mouth on her gut spread wider. Rhino wasn’t one to scream or yell, even in extremis, so no others would come to this room to investigate.
**** * ****
Shelly was glad when the rowdy group left the roulette wheel that sat behind her favorite row of slots. The former “one-armed bandits”, that were now, “multiple button digital bandits” lined every available wall space, and in some spaces stood in rows that drew regulars like a dung-heap draws flies. She’d grabbed her favorite machine early in the evening and sat sliding in dollar bills and working up her points. It was called “Buffalo Dance” and featured images of American Bison and feather-bedecked hunters. The theme on the screen matched and she hoped to one day see the “White Buffalo” image adorn the entire set of images… the grand prize view. Despite the fun graphics, it was her favorite because it was near a restroom and a free soda and snack bar. She found herself ahead and on a roll. She absently lipped her dangling cigarette back into her mouth for a long draw. The smoke obscured the screen for a moment, and then she noted a shadow that lengthened across the reflective surface. Someone stood close behind her. Someone who exuded a chilly air. She paused and looked around, “Can I help you?”
There was no answer, though the shadow shifted slightly as if its caster had heard her.
Now she grew annoyed, this is just the sort of thing to break my winning streak! she raged internally. She braced her hands against the machine and worked her buttocks to make the stool on which she perched spin, so she could confront her harasser. She gaped, and nearly lost her cigarette, there was no one standing near enough to cast the shadow. No one even faced her. She chalked it up to excitement, maybe someone stepped too close when passing to go to the restroom, she thought, still a little annoyed and... chilled.
She turned back to her game and continued working the buttons, pumping in bills, and winning, a little at a time, the points now built well above her investment. This weekend is gonna pay for the last two months of losing and breaking even, she thought triumphantly. The shadow loomed across the screen once more, this time even larger, as though the figure that cast it stood closer. The shape was amorphous but hinted at anthropomorphic. She shivered as an icy breeze flowed around her, as though the air conditioning had sent out a short, cold burst, a minor malfunction…
She turned around with more alacrity and determination than the last time, mouth agape, cigarette once more dangling… precipitously and endangering the cleavage she displayed, already baked and wrinkled from years of sunbathing. The frigid air passed, and no one stood anywhere near her, though a customer approached, headed for either snacks or relief. “Excuse me sir, did you just see someone, maybe a large man, standing behind me?”
The man paused and looked at her in confusion. He had clearly been absorbed in his own thoughts, “Er, what? Uh, No. I wasn’t really paying attention, but… no.” He bustled on toward the free fountain drinks machine.
Shelly shrugged, can’t give up now, the pot is even bigger. She checked her points; she was nearing her all-time high. The winnings would pay her space rental fee at the RV park for the entire month. She pressed and played the buttons more fervently than ever, determined to break the bank on straight points or to reach that magical spin that would offer an instant reward of $10,000.00. She set her new points record and reveled for a moment. She reached for the now small stack of dollar bills the rest having been devoured by the machine. She fed in the entire remaining amount, then once more gazed at the screen. It was entirely blackened by a looming shadow.
The temperature of the air around her plummeted and she shuddered with the sudden biting cold. The cigarette was long extinguished, and she’d let the cold fag fall into the ash tray built onto the side of the machine opposite the drink holder. She was so cold, and she wanted to cry out for help, but the darkness closed in around her as the shadow enveloped her and cut off her breathing. Her fingers, paused above the “spin” button, struck and as her consciousness faded, she saw the flashing blue light and heard the blare of the winner’s siren. White Buffalo images filled all nine spaces. I won! The grand prize!
**** * ****
Terry filled his large cup and stood sipping and daydreaming. He’d lost everything he’d budgeted to lose. Yet he knew that one more try would put him back in black for this trip. He mused about what he would do with the prize money. He’d set his limit at $300.00 and had quickly lost it all on slots. Maybe he could risk just a few more dollars… skip a lunch or two until his next paycheck if it didn’t work. He was startled by the jackpot winner’s flashing light and siren that went off just behind him. That bitch! He yelled internally. Figures some old used up skank would win the big prize. He looked over at the nearby machine with anger and envy vying for control of his senses. She was gone!
He stepped over to the machine and looked around in confusion. Maybe she’d gone to the restroom? No, she’d have passed right by me. He shook his head and stepped up to look at the screen. He could still feel the recent presence of a player, the trace of warmth from a human body that might linger in a space for just a moment after the human had vacated the space. He looked around the casino floor, she was nowhere in sight. She’d been wearing a low-cut silver-spangled top that was cut way too low for her sagging, sun-ravaged bosom. She should be easy to spy, she looked like a deflated disco ball that had fallen from the ceiling to play slots. The only thing that came his way was a train of employees, led by a waitress in a skimpy outfit with purple sparkles and carrying a tray with a glass and a dark bottle. She was followed by other employees, who’d formed a sort of conga line: they sang a congratulatory chorus as they approached.
Terry gaped for a moment when he realized that they thought he was the big winner. He’d have to deny it of course. Surely the woman would be back at any moment to claim her prize. The floor cameras would have recorded who had sat at the machine, but it was too late. The group of enthused employees encircled him, and the attractive young waitress poured him a glass of champagne and snuggled up to him. The manager approached and seized his hand for a vigorous shake, “Well done sir! I see that not only have you hit the jackpot, but you’ve raised an additional $3,000.00 in points. A fabulous prize and well played I’m sure.”
Terry was flabbergasted. He’d never won anything like this… I still haven’t, not really, he reminded himself. He rarely broke even on his gambling forays, whether to the casino, or the corner store for lottery tickets and video slots. He allowed himself to be swept into the reverie and led from the machine to the bar. The employees peeled away as they approached, and he soon found himself with only the bottle and a receipt that he could cash out before he left the premises. A sullen-looking woman stood behind the bar, wiping glasses and a large, mean-looking security staffer menaced the far end. He already had his bottle, so he wasn’t sure why the staff members had deposited him with these two killjoys. He shrugged, picked up the champagne and started to walk away from the bar.
“You can’t take that with you. Either drink it here or give it to me and I’ll put it in the trash.” The bartender stated in monotone.
The security officer stood up straight from where he’d been leaning against the far wall, apparently propping up the building. He folded his massive arms in a threatening manner. Silly, thought Terry, folded arms should be a hindrance, but I get the feeling he’s dangerous regardless. He figured that he’d had enough anyway and set the nearly empty bottle on the bar, “You can keep it ma’am. I can afford another at the hotel.” Terry started to walk away from the bar, but a huge ham-like hand seized his shoulder.
Sausage-sized fingers applied painful pressure, “You apologize to the lady.” The wet heat from a mouth placed uncomfortably close to his ear and beath smelling of river bottom, sent a shiver of disgust through his body. The voice was low and deep as the river that ran past the back side of the property.
Terry decided on the better part of valor and head facing forward to avoid the obscene orifice, “Sorry ma’am, I meant no offense.”
The fingers let go and a harsh laugh sounded from behind the bar. “He don’t even know why he’s apologizing, fool. He ain’t worth the trouble, let him go.”
Terry felt a slight shove and he was sent on his way to the cash-out window. There he met with the lead cashier, an older woman in drab clothing, “I’m sorry sir, we give out only these pre-paid cards, we cannot provide cash over $1,000.00. However, you can treat them like a debit or credit card.” the cashier informed him. It seemed he had no choice, so he accepted. Thirteen grand is thirteen grand, he assured himself. He was elated, though he continued to glance around nervously, waiting for the woman in the sparkly fish-scale top to accost him and name him thief. Yet she was nowhere to be seen. The floor was full of players, some laughing, some intense, some dejected or mesmerized by the games of chance in which they’d lost themselves.
He thought about what to do with the rest of his evening. He didn’t have a hotel room; he’d planned to sleep in his station wagon as he always did before the long haul home. Perhaps he should get a room? Maybe they would take him without a reservation… he giggled a little at the unintended pun: a reservation at the Reservation… he shook his head to clear his overreaction to the silly internal joke. He decided that maybe someone on staff could help him. He approached the major domo at the front entrance that led to the interior walkway and the hotel beyond, “Excuse me sir, do you know whether the hotel will accept a resident without a prior reservation?”
The man, single dark braid wrapped in a leather holder and draped over one shoulder, looked at him gravely, “Yes, I know.” He said nothing more and did not smile as though he’d intended to be humorous.
Terry tried again, “Will you tell me please?”
The man flicked his chin in the direction of the hotel, “See the clerk at the desk.”
“Jerk, you’d think I hadn’t pissed away enough cash in this place over the past few years,” Terry muttered as he stumped toward the hotel, ensuring that he was well beyond earshot before he spoke. His head had begun to buzz a little from the champagne. Took a while for it to affect me, he mused. The hallway appeared to narrow, and his peripheral vision grew grey. He felt dizzy and as he entered the main lobby, the large room began to spin. His last view was of the sky-blue ceiling decorated with a few puffy clouds as it faded into darkness like the sun had set.
He awakened to the sounds of voices chattering happily. He looked around, his vision blurred slightly and his head feeling heavy and sore. He soon found that he could not move his arms or legs… they were bound… he was strapped to a table. He saw numerous bodies moving about in the mostly dark space in which he found himself. “Please.” He croaked, throat dry and feeling scraped. “Please, help me, let me loose. Loose me…” his perceptions cleared slowly, and he saw that the bodies that moved around him, now chanting rhythmically rather than babble-chattering, were emaciated. The owners showed as much bone through their skin as would a dead thing, long decayed. He noted spikes above a few heads… no, antlers… The rest wore… masks? Of various beasts… no, the skulls of those creatures, still filled with glistening fangs. Their dance grew ever more frantic, more energetic than they should be capable of performing. Then one of them reached out with a stick, on the end of which was a small claw, taken and preserved from some dead animal. It used the claw to gouge out a scoop of flesh from Terry’s side. He screamed in torment and horror. His screams soon matched the rhythm of the chanting and they went on for a long time before they at last faded when he’d lost too much blood to remain conscious.
**** * ****