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inthepantheon · 4 years

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Answers, Part III

My body aches. I pop six painkillers into a glass of water and watch them fizz aggressively. I never thought I would need mortal medicine, but they seem to work. If I take enough… Worse than the pain, though, is the huge sense of loss that follows me around like a second shadow. The hind’s blood Alastor, the Avenger, infected me with, has robbed me of my abilities. What am I without my abilities? I’m neither god nor mortal. I’m just a...a...I don’t know anymore. The humiliation is unbearable. No-one can know. I would never live it down. Prometheus: the Titan who lost his gifts. The so-called God of Forethought who couldn’t foretell his own downfall. I would be the laughingstock of the God Complex, a source of constant ridicule. Or worse, pity. I down the water and rest my head in my hands. Argos places his chin on my lap, looking up at me sympathetically with his multi-colored eyes. I stroke his ears, and he slowly wags his tail. Come on, Pro, snap out of it! He seems to urge. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he can tell that something is wrong. After Alastor left me on top of Mount Caucasus, I was angry. I swore that I would have my vengeance, that I would make him suffer, but then a sense of reality kicked in. He had outwitted me at every opportunity, and that was when I had my abilities. Now I have to face him weaponless, what chance do I have? Disbelief and the need to rationalize followed: he couldn’t have obtained hind’s blood. It was virtually impossible...the effects would wear off soon...I had embellished the events in my mind. No. It was real enough, and realization paved the way for an overwhelming sense of sadness over the pathetic god I had become. It felt like I was grieving for a lost friend, and my self-loathing paralyzed me. I couldn’t think, I could barely move. I had lost all motivation and couldn’t see the point of going on. After a few days, the sadness waned, and I knew that I couldn’t continue in such a sorrowful state. Now I just feel hollow. I’m adrift, and I desperately need some wind in my sails to get me going. I need to look forward rather than back, but every time I try, I stare into a mirror. I bang my fist on the table in frustration, and Argos walks away, sensing my mood. I didn’t mean to frighten him. He’s the only thing keeping me together. “Sorry, boy,” I mutter and grab a pile of papers in front of me. I have work to do. And a lot of it. Demeter went missing a while ago. I’m not the only one with problems. That thought provides a crumb of comfort, although I worry for her. I always liked Demeter, and I hope it’s nothing serious. Anyway, her role as Legal Counsel to the OA has filtered through to me. Temporarily, at least. It’s not a position I wish to hold on to, but needs must, I suppose. It would seem that she was fighting a lot of fires at the point she went missing. Now I’m getting all of her emails, so I busy myself trying to get on top of it. It’s a much-needed distraction. And then an email lands for her. It seems trivial, and usually, I would skip straight past it, but something about it catches my eye. I re-read it a few times. Demeter requested some searches on someone named Eric Draven, but they have come back blank. There is an apology for the delay; she made the request a few months ago, and it’s been forgotten. Eric Draven. Where do I know that name? I carry on with some work and allow my subconscious to get the answer for me from the depths of my mind. The Crow. It’s a film from the nineties with Brandon Lee as the lead. He was shot for real during the filming, and he died from his injuries. He plays a character called Eric Draven, who is brought back to life to avenge the murder of his fiance and himself. I watched it not so long ago, which is why the name seemed familiar. Now I’m intrigued. Why was Demeter undertaking searches on someone named Eric Draven? I look at the date the request was sent and then dig into Demeter’s calendar to see what she was doing on or around that time. There’s nothing that looks relevant, so I check her account. I discover an email chain dated a few days before the request was sent from [email protected]. It’s not a particularly interesting read. The emails tell me that Eric had an unstated proposition he wanted to make in relation to the God Complex, and he wanted to arrange a meeting with Demeter to discuss it. Demeter requested further information, and he pushed back to say it would be in her interest to meet up with him. He confirms his name and the name of his company - Draven Properties. Demeter then agreed to meet him, but there is no correspondence after that. I look at the filing system to see if there are any records of the meeting and find a file note. Demeter was certainly thorough. Attendance with Eric Draven I agreed to meet with Mr. Draven today to discuss a ‘proposition’ he had. He was quite insistent. He came to the office with three files and said that he had a proposal in relation to expanding the building. Mr. Draven then started to cough. When the cough turned violent, I went to get some water, but on my return, he had recovered. He then asked if we could postpone the meeting to a later date as he was not feeling well. I said that I saw no reason he could not send details about the proposal by email in the first instance, and he agreed. As an aside, I have undertaken some preliminary searches on Eric Draven and the company ‘Draven Properties’ but could not find anything other than a holding website for the company. As far as I can see, there are no companies registered with that name. I have paid for some additional searches to be undertaken as the entire event was rather peculiar. I will wait to see what comes back. D. I know that Demeter will have undertaken rigorous searches, but nevertheless, I search for the company and ‘Eric Draven’ and find nothing other than the holding page she mentioned. The company doesn’t exist, so whatever ‘Eric’ came in for wasn’t bona fide, to use a legal phrase. Then I search for the owner of the domain name. Often such results are hidden, it’s seen as necessary to protect the user’s privacy, but it seems I’ve gotten lucky because they must not have ticked the right box. The owner’s name is listed as Eric Draven, but the associated email address is [email protected]. A shiver goes down my spine. The domain name must have been purchased before the website with its new email address was created, and so it was registered using Eric’s old email address. Could [email protected] be him? Is that how he found all that information about me? From Demeter’s office? My personal file would be in there with my number, my address, and everything OA had gathered on me over the years. It would explain how he knew so much, how he was able to stay one step ahead. Knowledge is power. I undertake some searches of the new email address and play about with the parameters on the search engine. It seems [email protected] has been quite vocal on dozens of forums using the username The Crow, but he reveals no information about himself. All the forums relate to discussions and conspiracy theories on murders and violence from all around the world. I follow the trail to a message thread from several years ago. In it, a user, Falcon101 complains about her husband cheating on her with her best friend. The Crow responds by promoting a website where she can pay for retribution. The Crow claims to have used the site himself and was very satisfied with the result. Falcon101 is interested, and The Crow provides some instructions. I follow them. But this isn’t the sort of site you can find on a normal browser. For this, I’m going to need something called Tor, because I will need to enter the dark web. A place where you can’t find anything by searching. A place where people can hide in the shadows and avoid detection. I take a deep breath. I’ve looked at the rabbit hole, and now I need to venture down it. I download the software and continue with the instructions. This is it. A website called The Avenger. This is where Alastor sells his services. It must be. I scroll through what’s on offer, and it makes me feel sick. There’s stuff on there that would have you screaming for Freddy Krueger to come back. It promotes everything from mind tricks to violent death, each with a price in Bitcoin next to it. There are even reviews. All of them 5*. I look through the site and place violent death in the cart. It then asks me for details: who, when, where, why, how. There are some suggestions for the how that makes my blood curdle. I make up some false information, and then it asks for 30 Bitcoins upfront. The final payment of 40 Bitcoins is payable once the act is completed. That’s a lot of money, like hundreds of thousands of dollars. I was hoping to find a connection I could work with, but all I’ve done is make myself feel sick. There’s a box to tick to say that you have accepted the terms and conditions. What on earth could be in the terms and conditions? I click on them out of curiosity. They are surprisingly well written and explain what happens if you are dissatisfied with the service or wish to cancel an order like you’re buying socks or something. And then I spot something. A common mistake when terms are copied. The small print towards the end of the terms has not been amended, and they refer to a company called A. A. Construction. It’s in the text lawyers would call boilerplate. The text everyone glosses over. The text no-one cares about. The terms must have been drafted for A. A. Construction and then bastardized for this site, but whoever changed them forgot to edit the boilerplate. They probably got bored. I close the dark web and return to my normal browser. I feel like I need a shower after that, but I’m excited. I have a lead. I run a search for A. A. Construction and find that it exists. It’s a construction company incorporated a few years ago, and it has one shareholder: Alex Arnold. I look at the company details and discover that it has a large portfolio of properties. Alex Arnold’s address is listed on the records as the company’s registered address, which is not uncommon. But it is not particularly helpful. I look instead at the original incorporation document for the company, available for a small fee, and I hit the jackpot. I have Alex Arnold’s personal address, and it’s a penthouse in the affluent side of town. I know the location well, I’ve walked past it many times and stared up at the flats with their Juliet balconies and wondered what they were like inside. I search the company’s website to look for an image of Alex Arnold, but there is nothing. I carry out some image searches on Google, but it comes up with soccer players and actors. I try one last search using Alex Arnold’s name, the name of the company, and the name of a charity event that is mentioned on the website. An image pops up of a newspaper article. I click on it and zoom in. There are a lot of people in the picture, but in the background, I spot someone who is wearing sunglasses and looking extremely uncomfortable. It’s him. Alastor. Alastor is Alex Arnold and Eric Draven. The construction company must be his way of cleaning his money. Not only that, but I also have his address. I know how to find him. Quite what I will do with the information, I have no idea, but knowledge is power. I need to think...I need a vacation. 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#Alastor #DarkWeb #Demeter #email #lawyer #Prometheus

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tgbreviews · 4 years

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Stacking the Shelves is a meme co-hosted by Tynga at Tynga’s Reviews and Marlene at Reading Reality, where you share the books you’ve added to your shelves in the past week. You can include books you buy, books you borrow, review books, gifts, and ebooks.

This week was kind to my TBR, with the addition of two books. The first is historical fiction, an ARC found on Edelweiss. The second is a book I’ve already read and reviewed.

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It took a mere 1.5 seconds for me to decide I wanted to read Answer Creek. All I had to see what the first few words of the second sentence in the summary:

Starvation. Desperation. Madness. Shadowing the Donner Party as they trek west on the Oregon–California Trail, Answer Creek chronicles one young woman’s descent into depravity as she risks everything—values, faith, reputation, and every last coin sewn into the hem of her skirt—for the mirage of a better life in California.

From the award-winning author of Eliza Waite comes a gripping tale of adventure and survival based on the true story of the ill-fated Donner Party on their 2,200-mile trek on the Oregon–California Trail from 1846 to ’47.

Nineteen-year-old Ada Weeks confronts danger and calamity along the hazard-filled journey to California. After a fateful decision that delays the overlanders more than a month, she—along with eighty-one other members of the Donner Party—finds herself stranded at Truckee Lake on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, stuck there for the entirety of a despairing, blizzard-filled winter. Forced to eat shoe leather and blankets to survive, will Ada be able to battle the elements—and her own demons—as she envisions a new life in California?

Researched with impeccable detail and filled with imagery as wide as the western prairie, Answer Creek blends history and hearsay in an unforgettable story of challenging the limits of human endurance and experiencing the triumphant power of love.

This will become the third book I’ll review about the tragic Donner Party. (The first was nonfiction, while the second was a novel with a supernatural twist.)

My purchase of Guts: The Anatomy of The Walking Dead, a book I reviewed in August 2017, was brought about by a chance bit of serendipity.

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks quietly making changes to the look of this blog. Rather than do it the easy way—changing only the header image and background colors—I decided to take the time and do a proper makeover. Part of that entailed making sure my review graphics shared the same look, which included a new badge for books I tagged (or, in the case of Guts, forgot to tag) as highly recommended.

After making the new review graphic, I became curious about the cost of a hardcover, and checked Amazon. I was delighted to discover it was on sale, at a whopping 75% off! It was obviously time for the long-planned purchase to happen, so I placed the order, and it should arrive around the first week of January.

I’m extra excited about this purchase because this is a book that should have already been on my shelves. Back in 2017, a fansite of The Walking Dead hosted a giveaway on Twitter for this very book, as a promotion for both the book and 100th episode of the television series (the season 8 premier, October 22, 2017). I entered the giveaway, and was informed that I was one of the winners. Naturally, I was quite excited and immediately gave them my shipping details, and then… nothing. Weeks, then months went by, and the book never arrived. Of course, I attempted several times to contact the giveaway host about it, to let them know my book never arrived. Whether it was sent publicly or privately, none of my messages received a response. After a while, I decided I would have to let it go and accept that (for whatever reason) they were not going to honor their obligations for the giveaway by actually sending me the book they said I’d won—I’d just buy my own copy at some point.

I was bitterly disappointed about it, even though I’d already read the book, and upset that anyone would bother doing a giveaway without following through on it. I’d heard of it happening, of course, but didn’t fully appreciate how it felt until I was on the receiving end of, well, nothing. It’s a shameful thing for any blogger to do, and breaks the trust of once enthusiastic followers. Perhaps there was an issue of some sort, something that prevented them from fulfilling the obligation that, while regrettable, might have been understandable. It’s possible, but I’ll never know, because the chose to ignore my messages. At the very least, an explanation and apology would have been nice.

The website is gone now, and the tweet announcing the winners of the giveaway has been deleted from their account. I still have the screenshot I took back then, though. (I shared it on Facebook, to talk about how excited I was to win the giveaway.) I wonder if any of the other three ever received a copy of the book? Probably not.

Oh, well. It truly doesn’t matter anymore. I didn’t realize I was still upset about the whole debacle, until I started writing this post. Disappointment tends to linger, I suppose. Yikes!

Anyway… that’s the long story explaining why I’m so excited to finally have a copy of Guts: The Anatomy of The Walking Dead making its way to my shelves two years, two months, and six days after I mentally chose its place of honor.

What books did you add to your shelves this week?

Stacking the Shelves (12/28/2019) - Stacking the Shelves is a meme co-hosted by Tynga at Tynga’s Reviews and Marlene at…

#Ashley E. Sweney #Donner Party #Historical Fiction #Paul Vigna #The Walking Dead

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kidensdouble88 · 7 years

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Newfound chapter II

A/N: YAYYYY part two is up:) thanks for showing love to my first part, I really didn’t expect much bc I’m a small account! Nevertheless, thankssss!! Part three should be up eventually:)

P.S I realize this is kinda short, but hopefully you like it. This series is going to be super angsty and longish.

Pairing: Eventual Peter Pan x Reader

Warnings: none

Slight Summary of chap.2: Something big about Y/N and Pan’s plans for her have been revealed!

After your body had hit the sand, Peter smirked to himself. This was too easy. (Y/N) was just too weak when she wasn’t at her true potential. And with that at bay, Pan should be able to execute his plan flawlessly.

He picked you up from the sand bridal style, then teleported the two of you to camp within the blink of an eye. As Pan appeared in the middle of camp, he dropped your unconscious body to the ground without a second thought. Felix walked up to him, awaiting orders.

“Felix I want you to take her to the tent you prepa-”

The sound of a sweet, honey-like voice interrupted him. It wasn’t a song with lyrics, but a humming that was coming from another area of the island. Peter and Felix froze in their spots, leaving you on the ground for a tad bit longer.

“She’s acting up again.” Felix murmured.

“I’ll be back.” Pan said, curiosity and mischief shining in his eyes. “Take the girl to the tent.”

And with that, he disappeared to investigate the mysterious and uninvited humming. However, as smoke enveloped him, he was oblivious to the fact that his boot was just barely touching your body on the ground, but that was enough to allow the smoke to take you with him. As your body disappeared, Felix merely shrugged his shoulders. Pan would find out shortly that you were taken with him, but you were no longer Felix’s problem.

Pan, and unintentionally you too, arrived in a large clearing; a circle of no trees, with bushes and blooming flowers everywhere, a rare sight in Neverland. Once the smoke cleared completely, Pan could see that there was a... you standing in the middle of this clearing. Only it wasn’t you. It was a figure: gray, translucent, and made from smoke. But it was the spitting image of you. It strolled around the clearing, flowers appeared as its hand brushed along the tall grass. It was humming a tune that was unfamiliar to both you and Pan, even though you were still too deep in your sleep to hear it.

Pan’s brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at the ghostly figure. His attention was then diverted from the figure to you as you shifted and hummed in your sleep. The singing stopped as you did, and the figure turned to look at you as well.

“Shit...” Pan mumbled. He was sure that with you and this figure of you together, something was bound to happen. Something he didn’t want. He returned his attention to the copy of you, standing a good twenty feet from the real you, which was still sleeping soundly at his feet. The figure was staring at your body on the ground, mouth agape in surprise. The figure looked up to meet Peter’s eyes, smirking. This copy of you was smart. It knew it had Pan confused, and therefore he was nearly powerless to stop it from getting what it wanted, you. Almost 5 seconds after Pan and the figure locked eyes, it disappeared. Just poof. Gone. Peter still felt it’s presence, however, and noticed the wind shift toward you and him. The grass leaned toward you both, and the wind caressed his face, and played with your hair. Then all was still.

Peter turned to your body on the ground, utterly perplexed. He wasn’t sure what had just occurred between him and the figure, and he felt as if it was trying to tell him something with that smirk.

It wouldn’t just leave, (Y/N) was right there, open. He thought to himself, but his thoughts were cut short when you lurched from your position on the ground, taking in giant gulps of air at a time. As you did, your eyes were wide, and changing colors. Fast. The only ones Peter could catch were blue, green, neon yellow, orange, fuchsia, and then finally your eyes set on purple slightly longer than the others. The cycle of colors in your irises repeated for a mere five seconds as you pulled in a breath before returning to their original (Y/E/C). You were breathing hard, and Pan just stared at you, bewildered, but concealing it well. You couldn’t calm down, you were hyperventilating now. Your breath came in short pants as you looked at your hands. Pan knelt beside you, trying to calm you down, but you felt too off from your normal self to just brush this weird situation aside.

He grabbed your arm, but you were shaking too hard for him to be able to do anything useful. He moved his hands to your face, and breathed in and out slowly. You mimicked his breaths, trying to calm down like he was showing you. No words were exchanged between you two, but you knew he was trying to help. You felt warmer than you had before, with his hands on your face. Just then, as you were still trying to match his breaths, you realized how close his face was to yours, your noses only centimeters apart. His breath mixed with yours, and your cheeks reddened. He pulled away, oblivious to how you were blushing fiercely, and stood to his feet while offering you his hand. You grabbed it, and he pulled you up before teleporting the two of you back to camp with a frown etched onto his face at the events that transpired with the figure.

You reappeared in the middle of camp and Pan called a boy named Felix over, but not before dropping your hand, which you oddly felt disappointed at. After introducing the two of you, he left, claiming he had ‘business to attend to’. Felix turned to you, looked you up and down, and raised a brow.

“When did you wake up?” he asked, somewhat sounding as if he didn’t want an answer, so you decided it was best just not to give one. Instead, you fired back a question of your own.

“Where am I? Your leader forgot to tell me... well... anything.”

“Well,” Felix started, “Welcome to Neverland. Thats the name of this island. And you, my dear-” he paused to–rather harshly–poke you in the chest “-are stuck here."

Your eyes widened, and you became afraid all over again. “Don’t worry, it’s not all bad. Let me show you around.”

Felix explained much about life on Neverland. He introduced you to the lost boys, showed you your tent, gave you some clothes, a cloak, multiple daggers, and was overall very kind. Slightly mysterious and creepy, but kind nonetheless. He told you that training was tomorrow, and that he would wake you up. So without any more delay, you went to your tent. But you didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. How could you? You were torn from your family, knocked out by a cocky boy with weird magic, and woke up to him being somewhat nice to you. You are on an island with savage boys around your age and some younger, and given about 3 daggers to protect yourself with. What would you even have to protect yourself from? Wild bears? This was all so stupid. After many hours, with the hopes of eventual escape, you fell asleep only to have your eyes re-open. The only difference, was that they were purple.

You were you again. You were awake. You were back. You sat up in bed and recalled the past few years.

You were on a savage/thief in the Enchanted Forest. Many had asked for your expertise in killing, so you were technically a mercenary on the side. Just how lucky were you to end up under a curse? Wonderfully lucky. Just exceptionally lucky. You had stayed in Storybrooke for a while, orphaned, as you had no known family. Finally assigned to a pair of parents in a town far away, you were able to escape. Nobody knew how you were able to leave Storybrooke, but you could, and you did. Your new family was great. You loved them, but one day when you woke up something was missing. You felt empty, because unbeknownst to you, a part of you left. Your dormant powers were unused for so long due to the curse, that they decided to separate from you entirely, and resided in Neverland undetected for years, as it was a very magical place. That is until you came, because Pan had kidnapped you. You two weren’t the best of friends, enemies actually. You were the only person that he had ever encountered that could rival him and his powers, and therefore to him you were utterly annoying. Why had he kidnapped you? You didn’t know. Might as well ask the devil himself. So, off to his treehouse you went.

All you could do was wander the forest, as you ultimately had no idea where Pan’s treehouse was. your eyes were still strikingly purple as you cut through leaves and bushed with a tiny dagger. How convenient for Felix to be oblivious to your title, otherwise he would never have given you those daggers. You stopped as your ears perked up; you could hear whispering not far off. You slowed your steps and hid in the shadows of the night, as you followed the whispers that lead to Pan’s treehouse. Who was he talking with? you thought to yourself. The once faint whispers got louder as you arrived. Without making yourself known in any way, you listened as best you could to the conversation.

“You don’t understand, Felix! She’s dangerous!! I don’t care how much you think she’d fit in here. She’s the bloody Maiden!”

“...The what?”

“The Maiden of Many Forms. Otherwise known as just the Maiden. She is incredibly powerful. Her powers are the only ones I’ve ever seen that rival mine.”

‘Damn straight’ you thought, but you kept listening.

“Then what the hell were you thinking telling me to get her a tent? Why not send her to the cages?”

“She doesn’t remember who she is. If anything, she is the bloody opposite of who she was. We need her trust me, but I wasn’t planning on her merging with her powers. I only needed her so I could draw them out. It’s going to be loads harder to steal her magic if she’s remembered who she is.”

That Imp! What’s this about taking my magic? She was slightly outraged, but listened in as the two in treehouse spoke more:

“What’s the plan now?”

“We’d better hope she doesn’t awaken her magic and regain her memories. Matter of fact, you go make sure she’s still in bed, and I’ll get my contacts to check is the curse has been broken in Storybrooke.”

‘As stupid as ever, that one,’ you thought. ‘I only needed the magic of Neverland to regain my memories.’ And with that, you teleported yourself to your tent, hopped in the cot, and pretended to be innocently asleep. If Pan wanted to take her powers, he’d be playing a dangerous game. And what’s the fun of a game if you don’t have a second player? Pan was in for it now.

A/N” YAY finally another part! Sorry I took so long and it’s a little short, I had this unfinished in my drafts for so long, and my break is later than many of yours because I attend a private school. I have tons of projects due soon so I may not have time for another part, but I’ll be working hard (mostly during the night bc why not) to deliver one for you guys; I LOVE this series. I think It’s going to be a long angst-filled ride... buckle up ;)

P.P.S not the best editor, so I Apologize sincerely for any mistakes or typos. please ignore them, hopefully they didn’t ruin the story experience. And i’m praying this story makes sense because I literally had so many jumbled ideas in my head for this chapter/overall outcomes

love you guys<3

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