#which he has employed before. but it’s such a ghoulish way to do it anyway

[mangoisms]

you know what i’m thinking about. in the unmasked run in robin 93 where jack figures out tim is robin and does so by breaking tim’s privacy and going through his room and it’s often used as backup that jack was abusive most specifically in fanon spaces where bruce can then be posed as tim’s true father/better than jack and like dgmw it was bad and shitty and he shouldn’t have done it.

but it’s also funny that right before this, in that same issue—#124—it starts off with this terrible sequence of bruce treating tim like shit because he’s lost confidence in himself after accidentally killing (but not permenantly; now it seems that way) johnny warren; bruce’s defense here is tim doesn’t know this factually which i mean is fair, but he calls it an excuse and basically doesn’t address the core of tim’s feelings At All. like. look.

Bruce: This is dangerous business, Robin. No such thing as calling “time out” or “no fair.” Not unless you want those to be your final words, before the cops fish your body out of the Gotham River. Tim: Give me a break, Bruce. You’re Batman. How can I possibly hope to beat you in one-on-one combat? Bruce: I limited myself to using only the fighting styles indigenous to the Indian sub-continent: Kallar Payattu; Verumkai; some Gatka— Tim: So what? You’re Batman! Bruce: Still, you should have held out longer than three minutes. Last winter, you nearly lasted seven.  Tim: Last winter I was still—I mean back then I hadn’t— Bruce: If you have something to tell me, then spit it out. Otherwise I have better ways to waste my time.  Tim: Back then I still hadn’t killed anyone. Bruce: Oh, so it’s that again? How long are you planning to use that crutch? Tim: I— Bruce: For three months, you’ve used that incident to justify slacking off. You show up late for training sessions, or miss them entirely.  Tim: I— Bruce: You're moody, petulant and no longer self-motivated. Anytime Alfred or I aren't actually watching, you stop working. I've about decided you're not fit to continue being Robin. Tim: And that's the real crux of our problem, isn't it? You've lost trust in me. You haven't let me go out on real missions, or patrol on my own, since the Johnny Warren case. Bruce: Cart before the horse, Tim. You lost trust in yourself then, so I stopped giving you the weight you could no longer seem to carry. Tim: Is that true? Alfred, have you seen it, too? Was it me all along? Alfred: When you first came to us, Master Tim, you were so blithe and confident--ready to take on the world. How did my father describe the type? "Ready to charge into hell with no more than a bucket." Don't mind admitting that you seemed a godsend--the one young man who could exorcise the ghost of Jason from these chambers. Bruce: Careful, Alfred. Stick to business. This isn't an encounter session, and no one needs to dredge up ancient history. Alfred: Point taken, sir. My apologies. In any case, Master Tim, you no longer seem to be the same young man who so dazzled us then. Now all of the light has drained out of you, and this noble cause you once desired so much to participate in has instead become a dreadful burden. Bruce: I'll put you back out there the moment you show me that's where you want to be. But if you're going to keep using Warren to continue acting this way, not even knowing if you actually caused his death--well, that excuse is good once more, and once more only. I’ll accept it as the reason you quit. Take a day or two to decide.

like? bruce isnt looking too good here either. at all. anyway. there’s too much i want to say with this but this is already long so. Here

#should it be taken at face value? probably not. but even in that case this is most likely bruce’s idea of tough love #which he has employed before. but it’s such a ghoulish way to do it anyway #either 1) he genuinely means this which wouldn’t be hard to accept or 2) again. tough love/tim just needs a kick in the ass to get going #which if anything the second option is actually um. worse #and like he could’ve feasibly taken care of this reasonably by just talking to tim about it. but no. he has to be a dick about it. again. #‘tough love’ is what i’m getting from it. which is. sad #this was a total side quest btw im talking to rose about the urban legend retcon and was just trying to find a panel of bernard talking abt #a conspiracy theory for batman that i wanted them to see. got sidetracked. whoops. anyway #dc meta: tim #edit: nvm on the pages i don’t want to LOL #but if anyone wants them i have them. this is all in that issue

[m0r1bund]

Happy Indigenous Peoples’ Day!

10/12/20:

So. If you’ve been here a year or more, you might know that I have this little journal from back in 2018 that I try to update every year with works from local indigenous artists / created in collaboration with indigenous folks.

It was once hosted on another site, but that one’s since gone to hell! So, I’m shuffling it over here and giving it a little TLC : -) Enjoy!

◆

10/8/18:

You can probably glean from my work that I owe intensely to the people of the Sonoran Desert and surrounding communities. Since it’s Indigenous Peoples’ Day, I’m going to share a few works from (mostly southwestern) native artists that have really impressed on me. If you enjoy anything that I do, I think you’ll enjoy their work even more!

Tyler Bighorse and Suite 104

I was introduced to the work of Tyler Bighorse in downtown Flagstaff, where he runs a gallery called Suite 104.

If you're ever in the area I really recommend dropping by! He sells prints and originals of his works there, as well as other local artists' work. (snagged this sick Legend of Zelda spread for my bro while I was up there.)

  Mulaka, by Lienzo

Synopsis, from their website:

Dive into northern Mexico’s breathtaking landscapes with Mulaka, a 3D action-adventure game based on the rich indigenous culture of the Tarahumara. Renowned for their impressive running abilities, embark on the journey of a Sukurúame - a Tarahumara shaman - as you fight back the foulness corrupting the land, while drawing upon the powers of demigods.

Mulaka was developed by the Chihuahua-based game company Lienzo in conjunction with Rarámuri leaders and anthropologists. Lienzo also aims to keep their game dev local to Chihuahua, which I think is extremely badass.

And the music just. rules. ( Town of Paquimé / Nini Areware Ne Chunume )

Quantum Tangle (Grey Gritt and Tiffany Ayalik)

Quantum Tangle is really really good. Like, really really good. Blurb from their old bandcamp:

Fusing of old-world sounds and new-world flair, the Juno Award-winning group Quantum Tangle is embracing their blended background. Combining their talents of throat singing, haunting melodies and traditional legends, Grey Gritt and Tiffany Ayalik are excited to present pieces that look back through history to challenge, educate and encourage the next generation to be socially aware.

The unfortunate news is that their website went down earlier in the year : -( But the good news is their work is still floating around the internet. I believe you can find them on Spotify and other streaming services as well. Here is a favorite, a love ode of sorts called Igluvut:

My other favourites for first-time listeners are Love is Love pt. 2 and Tiny Hands : -)

Oral History of the Yavapai, by Mike Harrison and John Williams

Three tribes of Yavapai got together at Bloody Basin. Kewevkepaya, Wipukpa and Yavepe. Three of them. They get together and cook mescal, cook deer. Get together and eat, dance and have a good time. But the soldiers met them there and killed them. Then the White people called the place Bloody Basin. Called it after our blood.

- Oral History of the Yavapai I originally stumbled across this book (in reality a word-for-word chronicle of oral history told by Mike Harrison and John Williams, two Yavapai elders) through one of the sources cited in this blog post: The True Victims of “Bloody Basin” Were the Yavapai.

It really struck me, because to that point all major publications that I'd read had unquestioningly ran the old U.S. Army account of how Bloody Basin got its name (Check out the Verde Independent’s article here, and AZcentral’s take here.) It frames the massacre not only as a “punitive expedition,” but also incorrectly names the victims as Tonto-Apache-- The Dilzhe’e are a distinct people, though the Yavapai people were often conflated with them. It’s much harder to get folks into books, but if you have any interest in the history of the Salt River Valley or surrounding areas at all, this was an invaluable read to me. Be aware that it is vibrant and devastating in equal measures-- but if you can handle it, I highly recommend it.

◆

10/14/19 Additions

The writing of Darcie Little Badger

The Whalebone Parrot and Owl Vs. The Neighborhood Watch were my introductions to Darcie's work and they are so, so full of wit, character, and ghoulish suspense... the kind of stories you would read to family and friends as Halloween closes in, this time of year. I am only familiar with her mystery and horror-adjacent short stories at the moment, but I hope to become better acquainted with her body of work in the near future. You can find a list here, many of which you can read online for free!

Anyway. Let me leave you with the Inherent Horror of Birds (from The Whalebone Parrot,) which I don't think I've seen any other writer capture so artfully:

I wonder if all parrots have dancing eyes. The pupils are in a state of constant flux, contracting and expanding. Big, small, big, small.

“What song is that?” I asked. Her pupils danced: large, small, large. She possessed parrot eyes and parrot songs.

10/12/20 Update: Darcie Little Badger recently published her first book, Elatsoe! Check it here : -)

Imagine an America very similar to our own. It’s got homework, best friends, and pistachio ice cream. There are some differences. This America has been shaped dramatically by the magic, monsters, knowledge, and legends of its peoples, those Indigenous and those not. Some of these forces are charmingly everyday, like the ability to make an orb of light appear or travel across the world through rings of fungi. But other forces are less charming and should never see the light of day.

Seventeen-year-old Elatsoe (“Ellie” for short) lives in this slightly stranger America. She can raise the ghosts of dead animals, a skill passed down through generations of her Lipan Apache family. Her beloved cousin has just been murdered, in a town that wants no prying eyes. But she is going to do more than pry. The picture-perfect façade of Willowbee masks gruesome secrets, and she will rely on her wits, skills, and friends to tear off the mask and protect her family.

The pottery of Nathan Youngblood

I learned of Nathan Youngblood's work scarcely a week ago, during a visit to the Heard Museum, and it very nearly made me start hooting and hollering in the middle of the museum. It is, without exaggeration, unlike any kind of craft I've ever seen before. His work is something of a marriage between the Santa Clara pottery tradition with Asian ceramics and other traditions world-wide, and it's a coupling that is at once startlingly familiar and yet completely unique.

The art, writing, and games of Elizabeth LaPensée

Elizabeth is perhaps best known for creating Thunderbird Strike!

(synopsis from its website: )

In the 2D sidescroller Thunderbird Strike, fly from the Tar Sands to the Great Lakes as a thunderbird protecting Turtle Island with searing lightning against the snake that threatens to swallow the lands and waters whole.

But she has a very wide and rich body of work, and among my personal favourites are her visual art. She employs digital collage to create these sort of iconographic pieces, and to me there's a certain joy in the way her work employs silhouette and contour, tracing the shape of a body, the environment within that body, and its place in its environment. It's not something that I can really do justice by describing, so here's a favourite from her ("Thunderbird Circles") that I have on my wall:

#love this desert #long post -

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 5

The Personal Journal of Mr. S. Holmes

Diamond City, The Commonwealth, 2288

Valentine came by in the early afternoon while Shaun was over at Publick Occurrences, playing with Nat. They’re becoming quite the pair. The reason for the visit was a case, of a sort. Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor had sent one of his men all the way to Diamond City to ask the detective to do some reconnaissance for him. When I asked why he didn’t use his own men, Nick pointed out that the people in Hancock’s employ tend to be more of the shooting type than the sneaking type. He insisted Hancock wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t worried.

“How well do you know Mayor Hancock?”

“Ten years or so ago, he lived here in Diamond City. Wasn’t called Hancock back then… but that’s his story to tell, not mine.”

I was intrigued. “Very well. Let me get my things together.”

“Sure. I suggest leaving the Shroud costume at home this time.”

He laughed when I came down wearing the hat.

The Mayor of Goodneighbor greeted Valentine warmly. “Good to see you, Nick.”

A friendly “Hancock,” was Valentine's response. “Have you met my partner?”

Hancock looked me over once and smiled. “Yeah, I think so. Sorry about Finn. Bad first impression on the town…” It is difficult to know where exactly a pair of black pupiless eyes are focused, but I'm certain he glanced at the hat. “Though I guess you know all about Goodneighbor's less pleasant residents.”

“A few less of those now, I hope.”

He chuckled. “If you're Nick's partner, that means you're also General of the Minutemen. Publick Occurrences makes its way up here, a couple issues old maybe, but it's good stuff. Goodneighbor's always open to you.”

Eventually, we managed to get to the reason why we were there. Pickman Gallery was a building in raider territory near the Old North Church. The raiders had been quiet. Hancock described it as “uncomfortable post-coital quiet.” If something had spooked the raiders, he wanted to know what it was. He said this as if it were a passing curiosity, but there was real concern for potential danger, too. We agreed to investigate.

As we left, Valentine asked, “Do I want to know what happened to Finn?”

“I wandered into Goodneighbor without any concept if the sort of place it was. Finn was in the middle of his extortion routine when Hancock interrupted and scolded him for it. Then Hancock killed him when Finn accused him of going soft.”

I don’t know what reaction I expected, but the only response Valentine gave was, “Never did like the womanizing bastard, anyway.”

A dead raider lay outside the Gallery door.

“Good start,” Valentine muttered.

Two raiders stood inside with their backs to the door, deep in conversation. They were there to kill Pickman, apparently the gallery owner, as soon as they could find him. More raiders were searching the building; one spotted us from the stairwell a couple floors up. A firefight ensued, ending with all the raiders dead, and we were free to step into the main room of the first floor. The “gallery.”

Valentine summed it up perfectly; “What kind of monster could think this is art?”

In the middle of the room was a pile of scrap and bodies, heads on pikes, something I’d expect to see in a super mutant’s den. The more horrifying sight were the paintings. Ten paintings hung on the walls around the room, disturbing works of abstract violence. There was something strangely visceral in their execution, the clash of red, yellow, and black evoking a deep unease… and then I realized they were painted in blood.

A recently dead body lay on the floor near the pile. A holotape in his pocket held a message of the horrible discovery of this room, and the voice of the 'artist.’ “Hold that expression on your face…”

This madman had to be stopped. We ventured upstairs but found nothing but raiders and corpses in bedrooms. On the ground floor we found the kitchen, another painting on the wall. Behind a locked door were stairs to the basement. There was a work in progress, a can of 'red’ sitting abandoned before it. Another pile of bodies lay in front of a tunnel leading further down. We descended, following the sound of raiders searching, calling out the serial killer’s name, and then the sound of discovery and battle.

We watched from atop a ledge at the scene below us, a man in a respectable suit battling raiders with nothing but knife and fist. He managed to kill one before his body was riddled with bullets. One of the raiders spotted us, firing up at our hiding spot. I responded in kind. They did not live long after.

“Well this was a mess,” Valentine said.

I agreed. We made our exit and returned to Goodneighbor. Hancock was surprised by what we’d found, to say the least. “That's messed up, even for this town.” He was also impressed. “You ended up in the abyss, but you crawled back in one piece.”

I wasn’t so certain.

Valentine could tell there was something wrong as we left. “Drinks at the Third Rail are swill, but the music's good. Clear your head before heading home.”

I nodded with a sigh, doubtful music would suffice, but willing to try. The Third Rail was the same conglomeration of drifters and criminals-for-hire I’d seen when I first came to Goodneighbor. Magnolia was singing a modern composition she may have wrote herself given its reference to Goodneighbor. It was a slow tune heavily laden with sexual innuendo. Her performance was good, even if the material wasn’t what I would ever choose to listen to. The next song was an old jazz standard, which while an improvement, was hardly of as much interest to me as the conversations I could hear beneath the music.

Why should I find the hint of criminal activity in this place of all places suspect? This was different. Every job here, every discussion, was told in plain obfuscations. Terminology evolved to let the participants of the conversation know exactly what the other isn’t saying but expects to be understood, to be read between the lines. “Bobbi No-Nose has work” told nothing. Reactions to the name indicated she had been a source of trouble in the past. No details meant it was business that no one wanted to know about, and that it was business only the desperate, the naive, or those with zero moral scruples would ever consider taking.

I knew full well what sort of activity goes on in Goodneighbor. I’d left the Shroud at home, but this was no time for a vigilante spouting dramatic lines from a comic book. I’d have to wear a very different disguise if I wanted to know what else lurked in this place. Valentine would hate it.

My attention drifted to the VIP lounge.

“Valentine… I’m going to hire a mercenary.”

He faced me, yellow eyes shining through the dim light of the bar. “You’re what!? Why the hell would you take up with that sort?”

“I’m curious.”

He frowned. “Curious. You’ve gotta be kidding.”

I couldn’t explain. I didn’t want to risk the malaise I could sense on the edges of my psyche, the threat of domestic stagnation that waited at home. I could feel a black cloud looming. This place, this whole godforsaken town, was a distraction. My life after the Vault had been a whirlwind of new experiences, dangers, and the ever present quest to find Shaun. Now that it was over… but how to tell Valentine? I didn’t have the words… or perhaps I didn’t have the will.

“I’ll meet you back home.”

His mouth tightened, stopping the frown that nearly formed. “Alright. If that’s the way you want it.”

I ignored the twist in my stomach as I watched him go. Then I turned my attention to the two Gunners, as evidenced by the tattoos on their foreheads, that had just entered the lounge. I swiftly and quietly followed.

The Gunners were harassing a young man, early twenties, wearing a torn tan duster with several pouches over army green shirt and pants, a matching military-type cap on his head with two rifle rounds strapped to the brim. If the binoculars at his waist and bandoliers around his left leg didn’t give it away, the conversation fast revealed this mercenary was a marksman. He had recently been employed by the Gunners, but left. I was somewhat reassured by the fact. The Gunners were not pleased to hear he was operating inside their territory, and aimed to scare him off. The young mercenary, called MacCready, did not scare easily.

The Gunners left, and I approached. He was initially suspicious, but more than willing to talk business once it became clear I was a serious potential client. He named a price. I could have haggled, but accepting had the benefit of gaining favor immediately. Either he would think I was naive, or he would think I was wealthy enough not to care about money. Only an idiot would think I was naive. This man was not an idiot. “You've got a deal.”

He smiled. “Now you're speaking my language. All right, boss... you got yourself an extra gun. Lead on.”

Bobbi No-Nose is the unimaginative nom de guerre of a ghoulish mob boss. She spoke through a window in her alleyway door, provided no details about the work, apart from needing a few hands to dig a tunnel. More details would be provided on a need to know basis. She named a price. I told her she could do better than that. She named a better price. I agreed. We descended into the dig.

While he made approving sounds during the bargaining, MacCready was puzzled. “Seriously? You just hired me so I could watch your back while you dig a tunnel?”

Shouts of alarm came from ahead of us. Workers in hardhats ran out, “Mirelurks! Good luck, new guy!”

“Forget I said anything,” said MacCready, and readied his sniper rifle.

Once the mirelurks were dispatched, Bobbi was impressed we were the only people in the tunnel who didn’t run. She told me she had some business to take care of in Diamond City, and I should meet her there.

Diamond City is the last place I want to go right now, but I’ve committed to seeing this through. All of my instincts tell me this whole business is trouble. We’ll reach Diamond City tomorrow.

#fallout 4 #sherlock holmes #crossover #fan fiction #nick valentine #hancock #maccready #goodneighbor #pickman gallery

[sending-the-message]

My friend has been living in an alternate reality - (Part 10) by Mr_Outlaw_

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

ENTRY 32:

I’ve been having a hard time trying to wrap my head around Kagenori’s words. It… it couldn’t be, right? I mean, how the fuck could the world have come to this?

Well, I didn’t need to wait much longer for further explanations. Kagenori woke a few hours later. After devouring some forest-creature meat, he finally told me and Lauren how the hell he ended up here.

As it turns out, he went into hiding in Paradise X after our initial break-in. But since the whole city was kind of a mess to begin with, he was never actually caught. He tried staying hidden on the streets for a few days before he started going delirious from the lack of food in his system. Eventually, somebody stumbled upon him singing to himself in an alleyway. The guy took him into his apartment and fed him some energy bars.

“Those things were fucking vile” he told me. “But you gotta eat something.”

The guy – named Ace, was nice enough to let him stay. But from the way that he described it… the place sounded like absolute hell. While there was running water, it always scalding for some reason. In addition, AC wasn’t really a feasible amenity, so they were sweating buckets in there. But the worst part was the “neighbor”. Ace explained that he didn’t exactly know what it was in the room next to them, but that they weren’t supposed to risk “letting it out.” That meant at night, they were forced to listen to something stomp around next to them while letting out a ghoulish wail. And for whatever reason, it only moved around at night.

Eventually, Kagenori started working at a food production factory, in order to help with the rent. It was the same one Ace was employed at. It was easy for him to land the job because the staff turnover was staggeringly high. I almost gagged when he told me what those bars were actually made out of.

Anyways, a few weeks pass and he finds himself walking home alone at night. But even though the place was lawless, crime surprisingly wasn’t a huge problem. However, I guess it made sense. Everybody in that place was essentially a walking shell. Just a ghost wandering around in hell. Nobody would really bother trying to rob anybody else. It just wasn't worth it.

As he’s about halfway back to the apartment, he spots somebody up ahead. In any other instance he wouldn't have cared, but this person seemed familiar. It was Rust. He caught up to him and they started talking. They were both about as equally surprised to see each other. When he asked Rust how he’d gotten here, his demeanor soured. Apparently, the settlement that we’d first stumbled upon years ago was decimated by the Paradise X soldiers. The reason was unclear, but it probably had something to do with our break-in. He said that he’d seen innocent children get slaughtered in front of his very eyes. This… was not pleasant for me to hear, of course. I felt that I already had too much blood on my hands. Fucking hell… Anyways, as it was about to be his turn, he tried reasoning his way out of death. He claimed that he had skills that could be useful to them. This was true, of course. The guy had three engineering degrees. After an extensive period of pleading, they decided to give him a chance. There was a helicopter that needed work, and nobody over there had the technical skill to do it. If he could fix it within a month, then he’d be spared. If not… well, you get the picture. It took him 29 days, but he finally did it.

After that, he was essentially employed as a mechanical engineer. However… he wasn’t planning on staying. He told Kagenori that "he had something big in mind.” What that was exactly, Kagenori would just have to find out. Rust instructed him to survive for two more weeks before meeting him at his place.

“That was all that he told me” Kagenori stated. “I just trusted him. There was nothing else I could do, you know?”

He waited, just trudging along for the next couple weeks before knocking on Rust’s door. He didn’t say much when he opened up. Just told Kagenori to follow him. That the plan was “already in action”. He led him to the factory where he’d apparently been working at. The soldiers guarding it asked Rust who the hell Kagenori was. In response, he pulled out a nail gun and shot them both in the head. And since all that they had were batons, they couldn’t do anything about it. Reeling in shock, Kagenori asked him what the hell he was doing. Rust just told him not to worry. That this was the only way out. They walked into the place and started heading towards the back. Once there, Rust swung open a metal door and they found themselves in a tight maze of corridors. This is when Rust told him to run. They maneuvered around the claustrophobic space, taking out more guards that were scattered throughout. After a while, they started hearing distant yelling and footsteps behind them. Kagenori yelled at Rust to let him know what the fuck was going on, but he was just told to be patient. He soon realized why. About twenty seconds later, a thundering explosion could be heard from outside. As Rust would tell him later, he'd been spending his free time working on crude explosives with materials he’d stolen from the factory. He’d been discretely setting them up near the barrier walls, day by day, until it seemed enough to create a considerable entrance hole. A hole big enough for the creatures to get in.

Eventually, they found themselves in a control room with a ladder leading upwards. There were two more guards in there, which Rust also took out. It was perfect because after that, he’d run out of ammo. They hurried up the ladder, sealing the entryway with scrap metal, as they climbed onto a rooftop. There was a helicopter sitting there, about ten meters away. This was the one that Rust had been commissioned to fix.

You see, he’d been planning ahead for a while. Even though he’d essentially fully fixed it within the first few days he was here, he pretended like he hadn’t. He did this in order to have more time to tamper with the controls, as well as asking around and trying to get a sense of what each button and lever did. In the back of his mind, he knew that flying away was the only way off the island.

Eventually - on the 29th day, he’d figured it out completely. That’s when he started planting the bombs. The thing is, even though he’d fixed the engine, it still took an exorbitant amount of time to power up. About an hour and change. That’s why he needed a distraction. If he just sat in the aircraft waiting, the guards would’ve easily gotten to the rooftop in time and smoked him. But thanks to the explosion, now they were forced to deal with the horrors outside the walls.

As Rust started up the helicopter, Kagenori looked down at the chaos that had plagued the city. Monstrous abominations were rampaging the place, killing everything in sight. The guards tried quelling the ungodly assault, but to no avail. At one point, a large crocodile-looking thing started climbing up the walls to the roof, towards them. It took Kagenori about 22 swings with a baton before it eventually decided to crawl back down.

About an hour passes before they start to hear banging coming from the rooftop entrance. It sounded like somebody was using a battering ram. Fortunately, the helicopter had taken off before they had to deal with it. As they ascended into the murky sky, Kagenori looked back down at scene below. As it turns out, Rust underestimated how strong his explosives were. A huge chunk of the wall and the surrounding areas had been decimated. There wasn’t even much movement on the ground anymore. Everybody was either dead or in hiding. That’s when it dawned on him… Rust had just inadvertently killed a lot of people. A lot of innocents, in fact. He was about to say something when Rust seemed to read his mind and stopped him.

“Those people down there… they didn’t have lives worth living” He told him. “I just put ‘em out of their misery”

Kagenori didn’t try and argue with him. Deep down, he agreed with him. He just didn't want to admit it. They flew around for a few hours before he finally asked Rust where they were going. In response, he just sighed and said he didn’t know. But that anywhere would be better than Dusk Blue.

Eventually, they spotted an island and decided to descend. The engine needed to cool down anyways, so Rust thought this was a better time than ever.

The island itself was insane. Just off the flat shore stood mountains that apparently put Everest to shame. The whole place was full of them. At the base of the monumental Alps were what appeared to be vast, open cave systems. They explored the place cautiously, not wanting to draw any attention to themselves. However… it seemed that there was nothing on the island at all. Just them.

Rust told Kagenori to stay back and watch the helicopter while he explored the caves. While he initially objected to this, he figured that it’d be safer on the shore than in the darkness of the caverns. Rust put together a make-shift torch with some scrap wood and disappeared into the entrance.

Kagenori said that he waited there for what felt like hours. He was starting to get worried. Eventually, Rust finally surfaced from dark. He seemed unharmed, but his expression told a different story. He looked horrified. He was also holding a small book. Kagenori asked him what had happened before Rust just handed it over. It was old and the cover was peeling off, but there was no denying what it was.

A Bible.

Kagenori had been protestant for the longest time, so he’d essentially memorized the first few pages by heart. He read it over and it lined up perfectly. Rust explained that he found it sitting in the middle of a crudely drawn symbol, like it was part of some kind of botched ritual or something. They just sat there for a while after that. None of them had any words to say. This was a troubling revelation, after all. Rust broke the silence a while later.

“That wasn’t it.”

Apparently, he’d also seen cave paintings in there, along with pieces of what looked like torn manuscripts. He pulled them out of his bag, but they were all in Latin. Fortunately, Rust knew the language. From what he’d pieced together, something happened in 2026 that sent the world spiraling into what we were in now. It was unclear what this event exactly was, however. The writings were all vague, with words like “Corrupted” and “Reborn” popping up a lot. However… that wasn’t even the most interesting part. The year 2014 also seemed to be significant. Rust’s conjecture was that somebody had done something back then that took 12 years to fully manifest. Again, what really happened remained a mystery. All he had was the dates.

There was one last significant thing that he saw in there - a painting of a map on one of the cave walls. It seemed to be an outline of the new world. Apparently, the only thing that Rust could somewhat recognize was North America and East Asia. The other continents were torn into pieces. However, there was one small island that seemed to worth noting. It looked to be on the equator line, around where South America should have been. There was an arrow pointing to it, connected to a single word:

“Liberatio” – Latin for deliverance.

“That’s where we’re headed” Rust exclaimed. "Maybe we'll find answers". Kagenori asked him how the hell they were going to get there. “I’ll figure out a way” was Rust's only response. Right after he said that, the ground beneath them started rumbling. They soon figured out why there was nothing else on the island.

They looked over at the mountains behind them. They were shaking, but it didn’t look like an earthquake. There was a pattern to it. Almost as if they were being caused by footsteps. Eventually, they saw something moving in the distance. Something colossal. They didn’t waste any more time, hopping into the helicopter and getting the hell out of there. As they left they island behind, Kagenori watched as a creature around double the size of the mountains made its way onto the shore. Since it was obscured by some kind of mist, he couldn’t quite make out the details. But it was humanoid, for sure. What disturbed him the most was the bellowing laugh that it let out afterwards. The voice was deep and guttural, sending ripples through the sea below. It was also sinister in tone. Like it knew what they had just discovered.

After that, they flew around for a few more hours before Rust admitted that there was a problem. He didn’t know how to get to the island depicted on the cave painting. He suggested that they scavenge another island, in order to find materials for a compass. However, there didn’t seem to be one in sight. They weren’t low on fuel just yet, but that could change quickly.

The situation got even worse when they flew into a brutal storm. Kagenori claimed that it happened so suddenly. One second the skies were dry, the next, they were filled with heavy winds, rain and lightning. It was inexplicable. But then again… in this world, that seemed to be the norm.

It got so bad that Rust told him to put on one of the parachutes, “just in case”. There were no doors on the aircraft, after all. As it turns out, that was a good call. As a particularly strong burst of wind titled the helicopter to the side, Kagenori’s fingers slipped from a railing he was holding onto and he fell out.

As he made his harsh descent, he tried to gauge what he was heading into. However, the rain had gotten so bad that he could barely open his eyes. He made a swift judgement, waiting 10 seconds before ultimately opening the parachute. As he felt himself floating downwards, he started feeling the rain subside. He opened his eyes, being both surprised and relieved to find land waiting for him below. There seemed to be people on it as well. But as he got closer, he came to a horrifying realization. Those weren’t people. Or at least… not anymore. He’d made it to dead man’s land. After landing, he freaked out and started running away from the horde of zombies that had now focused their collective attentions on him. Eventually, he’d come across the settlement that we were in now.

He’d been here ever since, going on regular hunting trips and establishing himself as part of the community. But about a year ago, he’d been captured by the psychos we encountered yesterday. As it turns out, they were bat-shit crazy. They took turns torturing/toying around with him, as well as the others that he was with for pure entertainment. At one point, they were driving out, planning on tying him to a tree and letting the zombies swarm him. Fortunately, that was also we crossed paths with them ans saved him. He seemed to be getting light-headed as he finished telling me this. The nurse told me that he needed more rest, so I let him be. However, he let me know one more thing before slipping out of consciousness again:

“I don’t know if Rust is still alive. I don’t know where he is... I don’t know…”

I’m sitting here now, pondering the implications of Rust’s discovery. If this really is the future… then what the fuck happened in 2026? How could that have led to this? What was on that island Rust was trying to get to? Were we ever getting the out of here? But like Kagenori... I guess I just don’t know.

ENTRY 33:

I woke up this morning to heavy commotion. Everybody seemed scared of something. I asked around, eventually finding out that some kind of machine had been shot down over the island just a few minutes ago. I walked over to where they were keeping it. Smoker was already there, holding it in his hands. It was small and compact, looking extremely futuristic, which made sense now. I asked him what the hell it was. He stared at me, eyes wide:

“Neo-Civitus” he uttered out “This is a scout drone. They always send these before they’re about to invade.”

Confused and shocked, I took a closer look at it. In big bold letters was the phrase “NC military” written right on top of it.

Fucking hell. Not sure what’s going to happen next. But based off of everything that’s happened so far… it’s gonna be one hell of a time, for better or for worse.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story