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…⇝

DCNext Proudly Presents…!

STARMAN

Issue #8: Storm Force

Arc II: Fire Opal

Written by Fortanono
Edited by VoidKiller826
<< Previous | Next >> (coming February)
-=-=-=-= 🌟 =-=-=-=-
Part 1: Jennifer Knight
”Now!” Ted barks through my earphone. I dash between the rooftops of a series of old brick buildings and look down. Courtney and Jack are shooting blasts of energy through the dense pale-green fog that fills the streets around us; Rick is looking around, clearly bored but unable to actually do anything. Darrell is above the arena, making sure everything goes smoothly, and Aunt Sandra is somewhere around here but I have no actual idea where. I jump down, twisting my dial to the “Bubble” mode as I land. Quickly, I summon a purple-black bubble around me, trapping just a bit of the Mist’s fog in it. I’ve successfully separated part of the Mist from the rest of him, but I’ll have to be quick about what comes next.
The small tendril of fog in my bubble seems to realize what’s happening as I dart as far as I can down the street. I see it bend and contract, diving into my throat. I start choking; it becomes harder and harder to breathe, but I just have to go a bit further out. Eventually, as I begin to get light-headed, I release the bubble and switch my dial to “Panic.” A burst of energy surrounds me, knocking the fog away from me and out of my mouth. I cough a bit before straightening myself and speaking into my microphone.
”He’s gonna try to reassemble himself,” I say. ”Darrell, it’s your move.”
”Right,” Darrell says. I can’t see him above the battlefield, but I immediately notice his presence as dozens of tiny blue-and-red drones drift down from the sky, each one with fans. They surround the Mist’s missing piece, keeping him in one place, still separate from the cloud that Jack, Rick, and Courtney are dealing with.
”Fantastic,” Ted radios in. ”Mist’s primary goal will always be to keep himself together. It’s a sort of side-effect to his powers. Keep him there, and the rest of him’ll follow eventually, no matter how hard he resists.”
It takes a few seconds, but the giant cloud of fog slowly starts drifting to meet up with the smaller one. Courtney and Jack rush over to the area with the fans, both concentrating fire on the one position where they’re merging. I turn my dial to “Energy Blast” and add my own energy to the mixture. Slowly but surely, the green fog begins to get thicker, and soon enough, the figure of the Mist begins to take hold.
“I was hoping you guys still thought I was in Gotham,” he mutters in a raspy voice. I stare at the face of the villain that Ted had been so worried about, remembering how we had prepared for this battle for over a month before he felt comfortable sending us out. He looks old, weak; in his eyes, I see a man who knows he’s been defeated, a man who may have once been a titan but whom old age has gotten to. I smile as Aunt Sandra decloaks and cuffs him with a pair of power-dampening handcuffs. Nearby, a police car pulled up and Clarence, one of the older O’Dare brothers, escorts him away.
“I will be back,” he hisses. “You should all know that.”
I know that it’s still possible for him to come back once again, that he had even come back when the world thought he was dead. There is a sincere promise in his words. But even so, seeing the frail figure of Opal City’s legendary villain once again defeated, I smile.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Rick, Darrell, Courtney, and I re-enter Ted’s workshop once again; Jack and Sandra split from us and went back to the Stargazer. As we descend the stairs, I could tell that Ted was over the moon.
“Wow,” he says to himself. “Just… wow. I’ll be entirely honest; I was certain we would have had to retreat at some point during that battle. I did not expect this to be one and done.”
“Well,” Rick chuckles, “I think the guy’s just a fucking pansy. No offense; I get why you couldn’t beat him or whatever, but like, the dude tries to make us go to Gotham so he didn’t have to deal with us. Again, no offense; I’m sure you were, like, a great hero in your time, of course.”
Ted laughs heartily. “None taken. I’m sure that as he’s gotten older, he’s had to rely more on cheap parlor tricks like the one in Gotham. I, for one, definitely knows how the aging process can take a toll on your abilities. I’m just… so happy that bastard is behind bars again.”
Courtney nods. “Here here.”
“Anyway,” Ted says, “I’d like to let you know that our little merry band of heroes is going to get a fifth member fairly soon.” His tone sours as he continues to speak. “My sister… she’s a vapid idiot, so you can understand that we haven’t talked in a long time, but her son started developing metahuman powers. And he started going out as a hero. She told me that she couldn’t stop him, so she wants him to at least have more support.”
“Ah, great,” Rick laughs. “Because I was just thinking that we didn’t have enough people who sucked at being heroes on this squad.”
“Rick,” Ted glares. “Please cool your behavior. I’ve seen what you’re able to do on the field and I must say: it’s pretty bad too.”
The door to the workshop slides open once again, and a new kid walks down the stairs. He’s got dark brown hair that’s just barely covering his eyes and is wearing a grey T-shirt and jeans. He waves to us as he walks down the stairs to meet with us.
“Hi,” he says. “Name’s Aaron. Aaron Munro. I’ll be working with you guys for a while.”
“He’s been helping people in his hometown of Liberty Hill as the great ‘Iron Munro’ for the past few months now,” Ted explains. “Unfortunately, Aaron, when you decided to do that, you perhaps made the worst mistake you could have made in this line of work. You made your identity public. Tell me, why’d you do that.”
Aaron sighed. “I… I just thought it was a small town, and I figured we all knew each other already, and… I guess I wanted to be recognized for my deeds or something.”
“I’m sure you’ll feel sufficiently recognized when your mother gets a bullet in her skull,” Ted says bluntly. “Let’s be clear: I hate the lady, but not that much. Come with me.” Ted beckons Aaron to the far corner of the workshop.
I stare blankly at what’s happening in front of me; Ted’s a hardass, but this is… a bit much even for him. Clearly, this was about more than just business. I had heard small things about Ted’s sister before but never met her or her family. Whatever happened to separate them had to have been a big deal.
Ted shows Aaron to a costume on a stand in the corner; it consists of a brown-and-grey bulletproof bodysuit with metal accents and a full face-mask made entirely of metal. “This,” Ted says, “is going to be the new you. I’m calling it: ‘Metalsmith.’”
“Th-thanks,” he says. He looks frustrated; I can tell that he’s not happy to be here, but he’s holding it all in. “I--I just have to say that… this really isn’t my style. I’m trying to go for a friendly hometown hero vibe, and having my whole face covered up… It just doesn’t seem right.”
Ted grimaces. “You did the hometown hero thing, and you failed. You showed your face to everyone. Metalsmith isn’t the friendliest guy around, but he’s safe and so is his family. If you wanna talk about alterations, feel free to tell me. But keep in mind that I have to work to preserve your safety first.”
Aaron nods. “Fine,” he says.
I look around the room; all of my teammates are either looking at the spectacle in front of them, or looking at their phones. Starved of anything else to look at, I turn to look at Rick’s phone. He’s responding to a text message from someone named Luisa; I think she’s a girl in his class or something. It doesn’t quite look like a message about normal things teenagers talk about, though.
hey, so I have a confession to make, the message begins. John and Maya and i, we knew about you being hourman and everything before we met you. we’re still your friends, we always were, but we also want to get your help with something we’re working on. a project that involves metahumans, basically. let us know if you’re interested.
I immediately turn away from the message on the phone. Clearly, this is something I’m not supposed to know about, but now that I do, I can’t stop thinking about it. Some other people want Rick to help them with… something related to his powers. It sounds really shady; should I tell Ted about this? It could be a conflict of interest, whatever it is. On the other hand, Ted doesn’t seem like the most level-headed person to deal with this. Who knows; maybe it’s for some sort of superhero stunt show or something really cool, and I’d be denying him access to that.
Whatever. It’s not my problem right now. It was never meant for me.
“Hey,” Aaron says. “You here? You listening?”
I look up; Aaron is standing right in front of me, his hand outstretched. “Sorry,” I say, shaking his hand. “My name’s Jennifer. It’s nice to meet you.”
-=-=-=-= 🌟 =-=-=-=-
Part 2: Sandra Knight
“Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse,” I say, currently on the back of Jack’s Star-Cycle. Jack apparently figured out that he could make his motorcycle fly if he used his Cosmic Rod, which is both hilarious and something that neither Ted nor David would ever begin to consider trying out. Which is why Jack is so great; he’s questioning everything, figuring out new ways of doing things, and making a motorcycle fly.
Feeling the wind rush against my face, I’m taken immediately back to my rebellious college days and my early stints as the Phantom Lady. It’s nice, almost nostalgic, but still different enough. We come to a descent in the back of the Stargazer, and Jack locks up his motorcycle.
Hope comes out the back door to greet us. “Glad you could make it,” she says. “Cutting it a little close, though, I gotta say. The meeting’s in less than 5 minutes.”
Oh, right. The meeting with our potential client. The Mist tends to give a lot of people tunnel-vision; I had completely forgotten about this.
“Sorry about that,” Jack chuckles. “You know how it is, going out, saving the day. Maybe someday, you should give it a--” He cuts himself off as I glare at him. His expression turns more serious. “I’m so sorry,” he finally says. “I forgot about what happened with you and the Mist.”
Hope sighs. “It’s fine,” she says. “We can deal with this another time. He’s behind bars yet again; he can’t hurt anyone else. That’s the best news anyone could hope for.”
We walk into the office; Jack takes a seat, ready for the meeting. “So, this new client. What’s the deal with them, again? Missing kid? Brother’s a supervillain?”
“She has some information on who might have been behind the prison break a few months ago,” I say.
“Okay, wow,” Jack responds. “That’s sort of a big deal.”
We hear the door swing open. A young woman with light brown skin and shoulder-length black hair walks in. She’s wearing a sleeveless white shirt and black winter coat; on her left hand is a tattoo of the Superman “S” sigil. “Look who’s here,” Jack smiles. “Glad you could make it.”
The woman sits down in front of Jack, putting her coat on the back of the chair. “Yeah, well, me too,” she sighs. “Listen, if you have any witness protection-type deals or whatever, can you hook me up with one of them? I’m honestly… I’m honestly terrified right now.”
I nod. “Well, there are a few options there. My cousin can easily create a fake ID and get you out of the city without anyone noticing. If you want to go through a more legitimate program, Hope here has contacts with the police who can get you into proper witness protection.”
“I’ll take the first one,” she says. She reaches out and shakes Jack’s hand. “Name’s Sarah. I’ve been working for Maxie Zayas for the last few months; I needed work, and he seemed really nice at first.”
Maxie Zayas. That’s going to be a tough one. A big-time club owner and crime boss, following in the footsteps of his father; I was personally involved in putting his old man behind bars. All of Opal City’s heroes know about him, but we’ve never been able to really do much about it. A few years ago, David flew into Maxie’s club and arrested him straight-up for drug trafficking. Not 12 hours later, he was out, cleared of all charges.
This isn’t going to be a battle we can fight with force.
I walk closer to the table where Sarah and Jack are seated. “And you believe that Zayas is responsible for the recent breakout?”
Sarah nods. “At some point, I began to hear whispers that he was planning some meteoric takeover of Opal City. He said he needed something to distract the local heroes in the meantime. And then, a few days before the big event happened, I saw him talking to that card guy who broke them all out.”
“Jeremy Tell,” Jack says.
“I… I couldn’t be a part of whatever he was doing,” Sarah says. “I grew up in Opal City. Believe it or not, I loved you guys.” She points to me. “I actually had a poster of you in my room. I thought Zayas was a harmless dude who just sat around. It wasn’t a big deal, whatever he was doing. The people he broke out… I remember seeing what they did on the news. I had to talk to you.”
“Glad you did,” Jack says. “Hey, that’s awesome that you had a poster of Phantom Lady. Wait, why aren’t we selling posters?” He turns to me. “Can we do that?”
I laugh. “Topic at hand,” I smile.
Mia leaves, and Hope walks up to us. “So… what’s the plan then? We can’t both take down Zayas and the people he released, right? Those are two huge undertakings.”
“That may be so,” I say. I pause for a second. “We may not need to. If we can get the All-Stars to handle the escaped convicts, we could divert all of our attention towards figuring out what Zayas is planning.”
“Okay,” Jack says, “but how are we going to take him down? David tried, and he failed miserably. The guy’s just super well-connected. We can’t just storm in there, can we.”
I smile. “Jack, sweetie. There are other ways to do this kind of work that don’t involve punching all your problems away.”
-=-=-=-= 🌟 =-=-=-=-
Interlude VIII: Hour of Espionage
”Positions, everyone,” Al Carlyle said through the microphone. ”We need to set the scene just right.”
Carlyle stared at the multitude of cameras around him. He watched as Luisa, Maya, and John made their way to the docks. Turning to another monitor, he watched as several stealth-agents readied their sniper rifles, hiding on rooftops, in windows. He pressed a button on the console in front of him; a series of machines around the docks whirred to life; to the outside observer, they looked like they were doing nothing, but Carlyle knew that they were the key to this mission.
“I have to say,” Luisa said apprehensively. “I’m really worried about this. These snipers… if he doesn’t show up, they will kill us, right?”
”11:49 PM,” Carlyle reiterated. ”Unfortunately, for this to work, the snipers have to be steadfastly committed to their mission. The dude doesn’t get visions about things that could happen. He gets them about things that will if he doesn’t intervene. But don’t worry; we’ve run several experiments with the energy emitters. Every time, he shows up right on cue.”
Luisa nodded. ”Okay. And what’s the deal with those machine things? You’ve explained them to me before, but I’m not good at remembering all the science stuff. Just isn’t my thing.”
”They emit a specific frequency of radiation that, for reasons unbeknownst to us, seem to massively increase the likelihood that Rick gets a vision in that area. We found residual traces of it naturally occurring in almost half of Rick’s usual visions; when we massively crank up the numbers, he always seems to show.”
The three kids sat down at the dock. After a few seconds, Carlyle spoke up. ”We’ve gotten confirmation that Rick has now left his house. The snipers can now evacuate the area. The three of you, just act normal. It’ll take the better part of the hour for him to get here, so get comfortable.” As soon as they had settled in, the masked snipers quickly ran off, lowering their weapons and quickly changing into civilian wear like clockwork.
John was the first to speak up after Carlyle went silent. “So, what, we’re gonna wait, like, 58 minutes until he gets there? Well, this will be boring.” He pulled out a couple of joints from his pocket. “Anyone want some?”
“We’re on duty,” Maya said. “I don’t think it’s worth it.”
John shrugged. “What? We have to sit around, pretend like we’re doing something, and then act all buddy-buddy with him when he shows up. It’s not like we’re taking down Basilisk; this is easy shit. It’ll be fine.”
Maya shook her head. “We should wait.”
John chuckled. “Alright, fine, you win. But we’re popping these babies out as soon as the man of the hour gets here. Got it?” He shoved the joints back into his pocket.
“Alright, whatever you want,” Maya smiled. “Just don’t come running to me when Carlyle yells at our asses for being high on the job.”
Carlyle watched the security footage, smiling and shaking his head to himself. Behind him, William Vickers walked up. He was the same age as the rest of them, but he had proven himself remarkably more mature than the others, quickly becoming the group’s de facto leader.
“Sorry to bother you at this time,” William said. “I gotta talk to you about another developing situation.” Carlyle hesitated, before standing up and dusting himself off. The two of them walked into the next room, where they began to talk.
“Basilisk activity’s been at an all-time high for the past few months,” William finally said. “Just recently, they’ve opened up 3 new cells in Germany, and are pulling in a remarkable number of recruits in Indonesia and Malaysia, to name a few. There’s also been a lot of restructuring; several smaller cells have been suddenly relocated to South America for some odd reason. If the ASA’s gonna be able to keep limiting their spread, we need more agents, and they need to be trained.”
Carlyle nodded. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I’ll remind you that you’re looking at only a small piece of the bigger picture. We are only a tiny fraction of what the ASA has to offer, and the adults are well aware of these issues. That said, you’re not wrong; we need all the help we can get. That’s what we’re working on right now.”
“Rick Tyler,” William affirmed. “He seems strong; he’d be a great start. But one metahuman won’t be enough. We need more metahuman soldiers, or at least, soldiers equipped with energy weapons and similar tech. The capes have been doing it for years; it works. But somehow, we can’t seem to find nearly enough people willing to serve. Maya’s the only metahuman on our squad right now, and her powers are still very much a wild card in combat scenarios.”
Carlyle nodded. “Yes,” he finally said. “Well, I don’t think that just recruiting a bunch of people is the right way to go. If we do that, we run the risk of potentially exposing ourselves to a large number of double-agents. But… if this lead pans out, there might be a way to enhance the prowess of the agents we already have.”
William perked up. “Yes? Do tell.”
“Presumably, Rick could gain access to the technology that Starman and his companions use to fight crime. Luisa could take a staff, you could take the blacklight…”
“I’m not the type of guy to stay in the shadows,” William said. “Have you seen my attempts at infiltration? Not my strong suit. Appreciate the offer, though.”
Carlyle nodded and smiled. “Well, whatever happens, this new member could help us more than we initially thought.”
-=-=-=-= 🌟 =-=-=-=-
Part 3: Jack Knight
I pull up to a street corner a few blocks away from what many Opal City residents affectionately refer to as the ‘Zayas Strip.’ Hope is sitting in the back seat, done up to look like a completely different person, and Sandra’s already run off to do some good old-fashioned sleuthing. The prosthetic nose I’m wearing feels so uncomfortable already; couldn’t we just have gone for the blond hair dye and nothing else?
Sandra materializes on the hood of her green convertible, startling the bejeezus out of me. “Password for the night is ‘Prometheus,’” she mutters.
“Alright, alright,” I say. “Hey, I know it’s technically your car and all, but maybe don’t jump on the hood, okay? That was probably the biggest scare I’ll have all night unless Grant decides that the Olympia is his new favorite haunt.”
Sandra ignores me. “You two head into the bar; I’ve given you fake IDs for the absolute worst-case scenarios, but you shouldn’t need to wave them around. I’ll never be too far behind, but as usual, you won’t see me. Got it?”
“Clear as ever,” I smirk.
“So,” Hope says from the back seat, “you ready to raise some hell?” Her usually-red hair is now jet-black, and she’s wearing these bright blue contact lenses that accentuate her eyes. If I didn’t know who she was, I would never have recognized her in the first place. Let’s just hope my disguise is just as good.
Sandra vanishes and we walk a few blocks further down Harris Street. As we walk down the street, the quiet townhouses are quickly replaced with a completely different atmosphere of bustling nightlife and flashing neon lights. On both sides of the street are a series of Zayas-owned businesses: strip clubs, brothels, bars, casinos, even a fight club at the far end of the street. It’s almost disorienting; look, I’m not the nicest guy in the world, never pretend to be, but I promise I’ve never been in a place like this. Not quite like this, at least.
Nestled in the middle of the brilliant signs and faint bouncing of club music is a single building not illuminated by lights. The top floor is taken up by some sort of high-end brothel with a sign reading ‘The Elysian Fields’ on it. The stairs that lead down to the bottom floor are guarded by a dude who seems absolutely ripped--like, probably-a-meta ripped--and a sign at the front reads “Olympia Nightclub.” Zayas’ personal shining gem, for those who were affluent enough to get an invitation.
I walk up to the bouncer and am immediately taken aback as I realize who exactly it is. Tony Woodward, aka Girder. Former Flash villain who got in a few fights with David before being broken out. As I get closer, it becomes clear that this dude’s entire body is made of rusted metal. He speaks up in a deep voice as we approach. “What’s the code?”
“Prometheus,” I say.
Girder bows his enormous metal head and steps to the left. “Enjoy.”
As we walk in, the last trace of the booty-bounce music that I could hear vanishes as it’s replaced by a classical violin tune from a distant speaker in the corner. The walls are blue plaster; segmenting the walls are a series of white column-like decals meant to invoke ancient Greek architecture. The bar in the center of the room is also surrounded by similar white columns. On the far end of the club is a wooden stage, currently unoccupied, and a few poker tables. Still not nearly half as good as my restaurant’s interior design.
The bartender walks up to us as we take a seat. His head is completely shaved; from what I can tell from the rest of his body, he appears covered in tattoos of vines and flowers. “Don’t think I’ve seen you lovely pair before around here,” he says.
“No, you wouldn’t have,” I smile. “We’re new in town. Heard about this place from an old military buddy of mind, and as it turns out, we got just enough money to spend on a nice place like this.” I reach out my hand and he shakes it. “David Vosberg. This is my girl, Rita.”
Hope offers her hand as well. The bartender shakes it. She turns down towards the cocktail menu, looking over the options. Her face shifts a bit as she reads over the various options; each one seems to be based on various tragic events that Opal City has suffered through. Down the list, I see the ‘Swift Hydro Plant’ as their fancy new drink, the ‘Prison Break,’ the ‘Doll Killer’--complete with a miniature doll in Martha Williams’ likeness--a drink simply labeled ‘The Mist,’ and, the final drink on the specialty list, the ‘Fallen Hero.’ The description listed it as ‘a tribute to the asshole who tried to bust us finally kicking the bucket. May aliens continue to do what we never can.’
My stomach drops. Fuck, while we go out and bust our balls to make this city a better place, the people in this club turn around and laugh at our failures. Laugh when one of us dies. I feel my blood boiling. I need to stay in character. I can’t blow this for all of us. Gritting my teeth, I take a few deep breaths before sucking it up.
“What’s the matter?” the bartender asks. “Can’t take a couple of dark jokes? Lighten up, man.” He gives me a pat on the back like I would ever be okay with that.
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s just… Well, let’s just say I lost someone personal in the hydro plant attack. One of, uh, those flying shadow things cut my brother open. I’ll take… I’ll take a Fallen Hero, I guess.” At this point, I’m flying by the seat of my pants. I’m definitely excited to get that drink.
“And I’ll take a Mist,” Hope says.
“Damn,” the bartender says. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realize that you could… I’m sorry to hear about your brother.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “You couldn’t have known.”
The bartender serves our drinks and we quietly sip at them. Aside from a few regulars, nothing much seems to really be happening.
I feel a slight breeze on the back of my neck. I turn around; nestled in my suit is a small piece of paper. The writing on it reads, ”Can’t find Zayas, but did find something else big. Meet me outside? -Sandra”.
“Hey, uh, Rita?” I clear my throat and put my arm around her, subtly passing the note over to her. “This place is getting really stuffy; I think we need to step out for a second. Whaddya think?”
Hope shrugs. “Oh, alright,” she says, covertly reading the note. “But we’re coming back; this place is just fabulous, don’t you think?”
“Definitely,” I say. We walk outside, brushing past Girder’s cold metal form as we do. Sandra’s waiting on the corner of the street, fully visible.
Sandra turns to us as we approach, and her voice turns to a whisper. “So,” she says, turning to Hope. “Before I bring this up, I figure it’s worth asking. How much do you know about what your brothers work on in the Force?”
Hope takes a deep breath. “Well, you know what’s going on with Mason, Clarence is in the same precinct as me, Barry just got a promotion to Major Crimes, and Matt works… well, I think he works around here, actually.” Her face turns bright red. “What’s going on?”
“I managed to get into one of the back rooms,” Sandra says. “And… well, Zayas is there, and he’s talking to a bunch of associates. One of them was Tell. And I think one of them may have been Matt.”
Hope nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “I… I guess I’m not surprised. He’s always been really secretive about what he’s doing, he’s denied promotions before… but I didn’t really think about it before.”
Sandra sighs. “I know this can be hard to hear, but I, unfortunately, have to ask you for one more favor. We’re here to watch Zayas over an extended period of time, figure out what he’s planning. For that reason, you can’t tell your brothers about our suspicions.”
Hope nods. “Got it,” she says hurriedly. “My… my lips are sealed.” As she speaks, I can tell she’s not fully convinced.
We walk back to the car. This was a short mission, but if this goes right, it will be one of many. And once we’re done, I’m almost certain, we’ll be able to take Maxie Zayas down.
-=-=-=-= 🌟 =-=-=-=-
Part 4: Rick Tyler
“Okay,” I snarl as I pass Luisa in the hallways of my school. She’s currently putting her bag into her locker. “I need to know what the fuck is going on, and I want you to tell me everything. What do you want from me?”
“Rick, calm down,” Luisa says. “Look, there are reasons why we had to do what we did, why we couldn’t just tell you everything as soon as we met you. We’ll explain everything soon enough.”
I shake my head. “Again with the secrets. Just fucking tell me what I need to know, alright? You guys pretend to be my friends, stage some sort of chance meeting with me--I got no idea how you did that. You pay some guys to shoot your heads off if I didn’t show up?”
“More or less,” she whispers. “Look, keep your voice down, okay? What we’re involved with isn’t something we can talk about in public.”
Oh, for Jesus fucking Christ’s sake.
Luisa bows her head. “Meet me out front of the Valor Building, this Saturday at 3 PM. All three of us will be there. Once you get there, there’ll be no more secrets. You’ll get to know everything. Promise.”
I sigh and throw my hands up. “Okay, fine,” I whisper. “I’ll be there.”
As I make my way to class, I shake my head. Fuck this. Clearly, they don’t trust me any more than anyone else seems to. But still, for some reason, I still want to meet with them. Just to figure out what’s going on. And then I’ll be done with them.
I nod my head. That seems fine. Find everything out, then leave. I can handle that.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The Valor Building is one of Opal City’s oldest brownstone skyscrapers; it’s not even close to the tallest anymore, but it’s right in the middle of the city center, and it’s one of the most iconic buildings here. To those who actually give a fuck about Opal City, I guess. I remember that when Dad and Mom were still together, we ended up going for a weekend trip to Opal City. Dee and I were taken aback by the Valor Building and all of the dazzling skyscrapers in the city center; it felt so much nicer than Baltimore did. Then I moved here and discovered that like every other city, it’s full of shit. Tourists just like to hide the shitty parts from view.
I walk up to the front steps of the building. John is leaning against one of the pillars near the entrance, and Luisa and Maya are waiting for me up front.
“Yo, glad you could make it,” John smiles. “We were placing bets as to whether you’d actually show up. Seems like Luisa here owes me ten dollars.”
“Trust me,” Luisa laughs. “If you’d have been there, you’d have agreed with me. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood to keep putting up with our bullshit.” She turns to me. “Regardless, glad you could come. Sorry to put you through all of this.”
“Sorry,” I say, shrugging. “I can let my nerves get the best of me at times. I’m feeling better now, don’t worry.”
“So,” Maya says. “Are we ready to go?”
Luisa nods. Maya turns to the keypad next to her and types in a code. 7, 8, 4, 4, pound sign. The door clicks open. Immediately, as I walk into the lobby, I feel like I’m in a place I’m not supposed to be. The floor is made up of elaborately-patterned stone tiles; large windows to the sides let in a lot of sunlight as I walk to the elevators.
“So, uh, what do you do here?” I ask. “This is just, like, an office building, right?”
“Just, like, 10 seconds left,” Luisa says. “Then you’ll get to know all our secrets.” She calls the elevator, and we walk in. I push my way to the back as John and Maya get on.
“Alright,” John says. “I think it goes without saying that what we show you here today, you can’t mention to another living soul that we don’t approve of. Not even your hero pals. Got it?”
“Yeah, of course,” I say nonchalantly.
“Okay.” John reaches up above the panel of buttons on the elevator and opens up a small compartment. Inside is a fingerprint scanner; John jams his thumb onto the pad and the elevator begins to go down. After a few more seconds, the doors open. We’re in a pristine grey room; computers line every wall, and dozens of people look up as we walk in. Immediately, it reminds me of Ted’s workshop, but on a much bigger scale.
A man is waiting for us in the middle of one of the hallways. He’s wearing a neatly-ironed grey-green suit, with combed-over white hair. He reaches out his hand for me to shake.
“Al Carlyle,” he says. “Director of the American Security Agency. Nice to meet you, Rick. I’ve heard so many great things about you.” I turn around. All three of my so-called “friends” have deserted me, leaving me with this weird dude.
“Uh, nice to meet you too,” I mutter, shaking his hand. “So what exactly is going on here?”
“Well,” Al smiles, “what isn’t going on here? I suppose you’re a bit confused, a bit overwhelmed, so I’ll try and give you the long and short of it. We’re like the CIA, sort of. But a bit more secret. We’re the CIA when the CIA can’t be involved. Take, for example, metahuman agents. Do you know much about the Freedom Fighters?”
I shrug. “Heard of them. The original Starman was working with one of them, I think.”
Al nods. “Come,” he says. “Walk with me.” I sigh and follow him through the convoluted halls and terminals of this absolutely massive underground base.
“Now,” he says, “the Freedom Fighters were a truly amazing group of people. They were a UN task force composed of one sergeant, a handful of regular soldiers, and three metahumans. Well, they fought long and hard for the values that we hold dear to us today, but in the end, the UN saw them as a threat. What’s to stop our enemies from conscripting metahumans too? It’d be another cold war, one that many countries were all-too-eager to stop. So, metahumans were banned from serving in combat.”
He clears his throat and lets out a hearty chuckle. “Well, you see, terrorists don’t tend to follow by our rules. I suppose that’s what makes them terrorists, don’t you think? So that’s where we come in. One of many examples, I suppose, of where we come in. We use many of the techniques superheroes use to fight against potential threats to the land of the free and the brave. And I’ve had my eye on you for a while. I think you’d make a great addition to our cause.”
I pause and look around me. This place is huge. It’s bound to take up more than a few city blocks. When I intercepted the battle Jack was having with Swift, this base was underneath it all, computers typing away. Our school is only a few blocks west of here; it’s very possible the base extends that far too. I haven’t even been in Opal City for a year yet, but I had felt like I knew everything about it. Clearly, I was wrong.
I’ve never been the type of person who hated the government and everything they did. I followed the news, though, and they’ve clearly done some questionable things in the past few years. With Cale as President, that’s just going to get worse and worse. Do I want to be a part of this? Clearly, I don’t think I do. I was just here to get answers, and I got mine. That’s as far as this goes.
‘Take your time,” Al laughs. “We’d love to have ya, but no pressure either way.”
Before I can tell him no, my vision flashes white. A man walking down a run-down section of Snejbjerg Street. Nearly bald buzz-cut, blue eyes, wearing a grey hoodie. A car pulls up to him, firing three rounds in his chest. The blood splatters over the sidewalk. I snap back to reality.
“I have to go,” I say, my voice strained. “How do I get out of--”
Al gives me a knowing smile. “What’s going to happen, and where will it be?”
I sigh. “Some dude in a grey hoodie is gonna get shot on Snejbjerg Street. Drive-by shooting. It was a black sedan, I think. Just let me go, okay?”
Al turns on a radio on his jacket. “I want a dozen soldiers placed across Snejbjerg Street within the hour. Look out for black sedans, check each one for weapons. And get Rick Tyler here a tall glass of water.”
Immediately, the people around me start getting up and gearing into action. A young woman who was manning a computer earlier walks up to me and offers me a glass of water. I drink from it.
“Thanks,” I finally say.
Al hands me a burner phone from his pocket. “If you ever get any visions at an inconvenient time, text me from this phone. We’ll have it handled, and you can focus on the things in life that matter.”
I smile. “Wow, thanks.”
Al nods. “Look, Rick, I know that everything must be really disorienting for you right now, but trust me when I say that we’re here for you. From what I’ve heard from my agents that have been interacting with you, that doesn’t seem to be the case with the other team you’re on right now. They see you as a loose cannon. Maybe they’re right, who knows. But here, we need loose cannons. You can beat up as many terrorists as you want here--or don’t, whatever floats your boat. But you’re welcome here as you are, no matter who that is.”
I pause, looking around for a second. He’s right; in the few seconds I’ve met him, Al has made me feel at home more than I’ve ever been with the All-Stars.
I reach out and shake Al’s hand. “I’m in.”
“Fantastic,” he smiles. “Well, let’s meet the team then.” He brings me to a room with a circular table. Around the table are John, Luisa, Maya, and another kid I don’t remember. White kid with neatly-trimmed brown hair.
“Well,” Al says, “this is one of our finest covert ops units. We’re calling them the ‘Force of July.’ Right now, they’re mostly doing international missions, but we’re planning on bringing them into the spotlight as superheroes to handle domestic matters in the near future.”
He gestures to John. “You’ve already met John Trujillo, Jr., alias: ‘The Black Condor.’ His dad was one of our finest officers before sadly meeting his fate protecting our country. He piloted a one-of-a-kind wingsuit that his son now uses.”
“Besides that,” Al continues, “the Campoverde sisters have been fantastic assets. Luisa first came to us because she needed help with her sister’s metahuman powers. That’s right: she found us. Always a good metric for future success. Turns out, her sister has a bit of a way with plants, and it was a bit out of her control. Now, the two of them serve us as Lady Liberty and Mayflower.”
The last kid, the one I haven’t met, reaches over to shake my hand. “William Vickers,” he says. “Also known as Major Victory. My teammates have been telling me a lot about you. It’s good to finally get to meet you in the flesh.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” I say. And somehow, surprisingly, I mean it.”
Al nods and smiles. “Now that we’ve gotten to know each other, Rick, I have a special mission briefing for you and only you. I can tell that this will be the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership.”

https://www.reddit.com/dndstories/comments/kc5k4p/the_crashed_tower_of_the_late_zephyros_skt/ - Previously our heroes found Zephyros' tower crashed in the wilderness and a bunch of stone creatures were attempting to burn all his notes; among them was a Large Dragon also made of stone but also possessed a regular Dragon's lightning breath. After crumbling all their enemies to rubble the party gathers up as much of their late Cloud Giant friend's notes as they could and put a full day's travel between them and the tower in case any other statue-like minions showed up to finish the job. .
The cast of DnD Comrades.

• Ransom - Tiefling Cleric of Thor.
• Paxton Hightower - Human Wizard.
• Otto Norona - Gnome Rogue/Fighter.
• Creedun Grungerock - Dwarven Bard.
• Sir Oswald Pinkerton - Human Paladin/Warlock.

.
Paxton spends a good part of the evening using a Language-Comprehension spell to pour over Zephyros' journal and other loose pages. He finds pages of recipes, philosophical musings, and several pages relevant to their previous experience together, along with where he went after he dropped them off in Triboar.

• 1st Page - "I picked up a group of Adventurers yesterday and am giving them a lift to their destination: Triboar. Nice bunch, not nearly as rowdy or treasure-grabby as some Adventuring groups. I especially liked that extra-small-folk with the eyepatch - Otto was his name. He got way to high off some of my less-potent pipe grass and... (at this point Paxton stopped reading to the group as he realized Otto still doesn't know what he did when he was blackout stoned).
  
• 2nd Page - "A Storm Giant Herald named Iymrith, from the court of Maelstrom visited me yesterday. She was quite condescnding to my guests, but it didn't feel right correcting a Storm Giant - Ordning or no Ordning. Iymrith claimed the Lords' Alliance murdered Queen Neri, and when King Hekaton went to confront them he went missing. Iymrith also added that Hekaton's youngest daughter sits on the throne, but that her inexperience is throwing the court into chaos and weakening the Storm Giants' Influence.
  
• 3rd Page - "That thing the Storm Giant Herald told me last week has been weighing heavily on my mind. If the Lords' Alliance is truly behind Neri's death and Hekaton's disappearance, might they also be responsible for the Ordning breaking in the first place? I will finally make my pilgrimage to the 'Eye of the All-Father' to seek answers for myself."
  
• 4th Page - "This temple is much more magnificent that I'd imagined; our ancestors were the pinnacle of Giant-kind to have made all this. The bad news is that it's about as cold as one would expect this far North. On the other hand, for some good news: I finally formulated some pipe-grass with the right potency for myself but now I'm TOO high - I grabbed the wrong weapon and stumbled off with it, hahahahahahaHahaha. Did I really just take the time to write out 'haha?' Oh man..."
  
• 5th Page - "They've been pursuing me since I cleared Lurkwood and will be upon me soon. The Dream Spell failed - my friends, if you find this: if what the Oracle told me is true, then I..."
  

.
After some deliberation, the group decided the notes don't provide enough new information for them to step away from their quest to find the Giant-Slaying weapon presumably left behind in Yartar by the missing Harthol Zymorven so they continue on, but mean to seek out more answers about this 'Eye of the All-Father' at a later time.
Around midday Paxton's Owl familiar communicates to him, "Don't look up, but there appears to be a dragon circling high above us."
Paxton quietly lets his comrades know of the situation. He casts Mage Armor on himself and Sir Oswald casts Armor of Agathys on himself. Their casting of spells seems to have alerted the dragon of their awareness of them as it begins to dive. Paxton then casts Invisibility on himself.
There's a nearby tor jutting out of the bog nearby that Paxton suggests they all run towards, but they only make it a little ways off the road before realizing that Sir Oswald is staying in place, trying to draw the Dragon's ire to himself.
In a flash of cobalt blue, the Dragon both forcefully and gracefully lands on a nearby boulder still some 60' from them. With its bulk nearly the size of a large covered wagon, it puffs out the yellow plates of its underbelly and cocks its head as it stares down its snout and horn towards the group. In a deep, steady voice it speaks, "Greetings little travelers. Are you lost? From where have you come? To where do you travel?"
Not wanting to divulge too much information Creedun only mentions they're traveling to Yartar and they didn't mean to trespass on the Dragon's territory.
"I'm only here to talk, let's drop the spells and magic in the name of diplomacy; I know there's a 5th member of your group skulking around somewhere. Now, normally I'd demand some tribute for such a trespass," the Young Blue Dragon continues, "but today I'm interested only in information. Just last night I passed the strangest thing - what looked like a tower... that had fallen from the sky... just off the road? You wouldn't have happened to have noticed that too would have, traveling past there towards Yartar as you say."
Creedun asks the Dragon if they can just be on their way and that they mean no harm or disrespect. Sir Oswald musters as much Charisma as he can (which is quite a lot) and says they'd be willing to trade information for information). He asks the Blue Dragon what he found in the tower, what he thought of it, and why he wants to know more?
"I found a dead Giant in the tower, I found it rather odd, and it is my business to know what happens in my territory." The Dragon adds with a thin veil of forced patience, "I'm normally not so generous but you amuse me human; I've now answered 3 of your questions and you none of mine. What do you know of the tower?"
Otto chimes in saying the Cloud Giant Zephyros had been their friend once and he believes he'd been trying to get a message through to them.
The Dragon grins a cruel smile, "As I suspected. I will add you to the collection of the Queen of Statues - the Gathering Storm!" as it pumps its mighty wings to take flight.
Roll Initiative!
.
Creedun conjures two Giant Eagles which Grapple the Dragon before it takes off.
This is obviously a cunning foe as it completely ignores the beasts and unleashes a torrent of deadly lightning into the Dwarven Bard, shocking him so badly that it's impossible to maintain concentration. As the Eagles poof into nothingness, the Dragon flies up 40' above the ground and begins circling the group.
Otto is struggling to hit the dragon at this range with his Hand Crossbow and uses his new martial training to stow his shield and attack with his Shortbow at the same time.
Paxton appears next to Sir Oswald, and laying a hand on him casts a spell allowing the heavily armored Knight to fly!
Sir Oswald streaks towards the Dragon and positions himself above it, striking mightily into the Dragon's back twice.
Ransom makes a Spiritual Weapon appear next to Dragon to slash at him, while Creedun resummons his Giant Eagles, though this time the Dragon fends off their grapple.
The Blue Dragon mauls Sir Oswald several times then tries to fly away, knowing that even if the Eagle can keep up, the Knight can't. He's betting that his scales can fend off their attacks and is partly correct, both eagles fail to land even a scratch. Sir Oswald with a lucky swing strikes a critical weak spot behind the Dragon's shoulder and adds a charged-up Smite into the fleeing Dragon
Paxton takes advantage of the Dragon having left the cluster of his allies and centers a Fireball on the Dragon. As the dragon flies out of the bursting flame it is singed and starting to look quite hurt.
The resummoned Giant Eagles catch up and both successfully grapple the Dragon as the 3 of them tumble to the ground, WHAM! Still thrashing on the ground the Dragon bites and claws the injured Eagles, causing both of them to poof from existence.
The Dragon takes an expert shot from Otto's Short Bow and not only looks very hurt, but for the first time shows actual fear itself. It moves to retreat, but instead of flying away it begins to burrow into the soft boggy soil. The group only sees it burrow in 10' and then loose sight of it in the dark tunnel.
Paxton throws a fireball right at the opening of the tunnel, hoping the edges of the flaming blast will catch the Dragon. He hears no sound as to whether it hit or missed.
Even running at top speed Otto isn't quick enough to reach the hole before the Dragon can burrow further in and the tunnel turns at such an angle the Gnome can't blind-fire in. Then he remembers that he has one more "Ka-boomer" left from the merchant cart they encountered south of Calling Horns. He lights the fuse and tosses it into the tunnel. 4 seconds later KABOOM!!! followed by a screeching roar of pain.
Sir Oswald flies down into the tunnel with no hesitation in hopes to finish off the Dragon but emerges a couple seconds later saying, "It's dead." The Kaboomer had blown open the side of its face as smoke poured up and viscera dripped down from its eye.
The group tries harvesting some scales and teeth, but damages their trophies in the process. Sir Oswald opens the Dragon's belly to find a couple human skulls and bones, along with a partially digested dagger. He also insists on spending more time to try to acquire the Dragon's snout horn. Paxton puts his Secure Hut spell over the tunnel while he works because spending several hours exposed in the wilderness doesn't seem like a safe plan.
The rest of the day and a half journey to Yartar is uneventful and everyone arrives fully rested.
.
They find a contingency of guards inspecting everyone who arrives to the city's outer gate. They make their way inside and get food recommendations from a cheery local man.
They're directed to the man's favorite joint - a "dive" dinner on the edge of the "bad part of town - called Karletta's Table.
There they find a one story flat-roofed building hemmed in by larger buildings that appear to have 3rd-story additions built atop older structures. Karletta's Table has crates stacked up outside that several young street kids are using to play and climb on, some have even climbed up onto the roof and are playing up there, another youngster in dirty clothes runs out from behind the diner with a fist-full of bread.
The group walks through the swinging saloon-style doors and gets their bearings in the dim light inside. Most of the booths have privacy walls, but they see a few folk who look down on their luck, a few more working class people, and a couple women arm-wrestling.
Behind the bar is a window looking into the kitchen where clanging pots and pans and sizzling can be heard. A half-elf with dark blue dyed hair cropped short on one side, wearing leather armor with an apron over it comes into view yelling at some staff around the corner, "You don't have that ready yet? By the gods, what am I paying you for, eh?" She notices the party standing in the dinning area and immediately switches her demeaner to a sweet and welcoming smile. "Hey sorry nobody was there to welcome you, feel free to seat yourselves! Someone will be with you in a moment :) " She returns into the part of the kitchen out of view and continues commanding the kitchen staff in an authoritative tone.
Creedun suggests they sit where he can watch the women arm-wrestle and after a few rounds he approaches them with Otto and asks if he can challenge one of them for a round of drinks. There's some brief chit-chat and the women seem fond of taunting Creedun and Otto, mostly in good fun. They tell the adventurers that they work the docks in the fishing industry. Otto mentions that he's a fisher as well and that's how he lost his eye.
One of the women cranks her shoulder a bit as though it's stiff and says to the other, "What do you think Sally? You wanna take 'im?"
Sally, "Are you gunna need some books to sit on, guy?" alluding to the Dwarf's stoutness. "How 'bout instead a drinks though we wrestle for the story of your friend's lost eye. I win against short an stout 'ere - you tell us your tale, little guy?" Otto agrees.
After a particularly close match Sally pins Creedun and Otto launches into a captivating tale from his youth when their boats' nets caught a Kraken, and how he had to climb into the nets to free the beast. In the process he slipped and severed the end off one of the Kraken's tentacles, fell back into the boat and the knife "poked him in the eye."
There is a long pause. Eventually Sally says, "Pffffft, I call bullsh!t There's no way that was a Kraken. That's a mythical beast; even if one does exist there's been no claims of seeing one in a hundred years at least. Plus, it would have dragged your ship to the bottom before you had a chance to free it."
Otto insists he's not lying.
Sally adds, "look, I'm sure you were entangled with something big and tentacle-y, maybe a Giant Octopus, maybe a newborn Kraken, but if that were a real one you'd be a skeleton at the bottom of the ocean right now."
There's a little more benign chit-chat. Otto refers to the women as "madams" which they get a hoot out of. Then he uses his Thieves Cant to see if there's more to them than meets the eye and mentions being "a part of their guild" and "wondering if they could help him."
The women look at each other and Sally says, "Let's step outside for a chat little guy. Just us and and you; your friends can stay in here and order their meal." Otto assures his party that it'll be fine. Paxton keeps watch on the situation with his Owl Familiar waiting outside.
Sally calls to the kitchen, "Hey Karletta could we get some more bread" and they're given a basket of bread as they walk with Otto out a back door.
.
Outside Sally laughs and says he must be new in town and there's no way he's part of their guild. They ask what he wants and he mentions he's looking for someone. Sally scoffs, saying they don't point strangers to members of their guild. He explains - still in somewhat vague terms - he's looking for a Noble's son who's gone missing. He offers them 50gp if they can help. Sally leans to the other woman and whispers something.
Paxton, listening through his Owl's senses hears her ask her friend, "Do you think he's talking about Mel?"
Sally tells Otto to go back inside with his friends and they'll be back with their friend who can tell him more. Neither Otto nor Paxton (through his Familiar) can discern any fowl-play or malice so they wait.
In the meantime Karletta had come by to take the group's order and comments about how quiet Paxton is and asks why he's sitting upright with his eyes closed. Creedun tells her his friend is just really tired and asks for a bib to put on the wizard.
Otto comes back in just as Ransom is pinning Creedun in their own arm-wrestling match.
.
Paxton has his owl follow the two women. One sets the basket of bread down on a nearby crate but the owl follows them to a warehouse where they disappear inside for several minutes. When they reemerge they're accompanied by a young woman and an older halfling woman; they all head back towards the diner. Paxton tells his owl to check out the bread basket, but when he gets there there are barely even crumbs.
The four women reenter Karletta's Table. Without pause the Halfling woman jumps up onto the bench, eye-level with Ransom and the others "I hear you want to ask my friend Mel some questions. I'm just here to make sure it goes smoothly, okay?"
Mel pulls up a chair and sits at the end of the booth. Between asking questions to Mel and the Halfling, they learn:

• Mel and Harthol Zymorven ran to Yartar with some of his father's stolen property to start a new life.
  
• Harthol ended up "also stealing her heart before proving he was a snake." He got involved with another woman on a Riverboat gambling cruise. They were seen leaving the riverboat together, but he was never seen again after that.
  
• They must have gone back to his apartment because everyone of his that was of value was gone - including gold, platinum, gems, and a weapon stolen from his father's keep.
  
• The woman always wears a purple dress and is often seen entering and leaving the riverboat casino.
  
• Their Thieves Guild - The Hands of Yartar - want payback on the woman in the purple dress, but (a) can't gain access to the cruise (they suspect a traitor in their midst), and (b) has a strict code of no assassinations outside of a hired contract. By pointing the Adventurers in her direction the guild hopes the situation will escalate and revenge will unfold naturally.
  
• The casino cruise itself belongs to a rival of the Hands of Yartar, so any additional mischief or trouble caused for them is a bonus in the eyes of the guild.
  
• The gambling boat - called 'The Grand Dame' - is owned by a man named Khaspere Drylund, who lives aboard the vessel.
  
• The best way to gain access to the cruise would be to pose either as staff (rowers, chefs/servers, musicians, game table facilitators, escorts) or to attend as wealthy guests who come to network and to gamble in the casino.
  

​
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Next time - All Aboard the Grand Dame!

https://www.reddit.com/stormkingsthundecomments/kc5nai/the_crashed_tower_of_the_late_zephyros_chapter_35/ - Previously our heroes found Zephyros' tower crashed in the wilderness and a bunch of stone creatures were attempting to burn all his notes; among them was a Large Dragon also made of stone but also possessed a regular Dragon's lightning breath. After crumbling all their enemies to rubble the party gathers up as much of their late Cloud Giant friend's notes as they could and put a full day's travel between them and the tower in case any other statue-like minions showed up to finish the job. .
The cast of DnD Comrades.

• Ransom - Tiefling Cleric of Thor.
• Paxton Hightower - Human Wizard.
• Otto Norona - Gnome Rogue/Fighter.
• Creedun Grungerock - Dwarven Bard.
• Sir Oswald Pinkerton - Human Paladin/Warlock.

.
Paxton spends a good part of the evening using a Language-Comprehension spell to pour over Zephyros' journal and other loose pages. He finds pages of recipes, philosophical musings, and several pages relevant to their previous experience together, along with where he went after he dropped them off in Triboar.

• 1st Page - "I picked up a group of Adventurers yesterday and am giving them a lift to their destination: Triboar. Nice bunch, not nearly as rowdy or treasure-grabby as some Adventuring groups. I especially liked that extra-small-folk with the eyepatch - Otto was his name. He got way to high off some of my less-potent pipe grass and... (at this point Paxton stopped reading to the group as he realized Otto still doesn't know what he did when he was blackout stoned).
  
• 2nd Page - "A Storm Giant Herald named Iymrith, from the court of Maelstrom visited me yesterday. She was quite condescnding to my guests, but it didn't feel right correcting a Storm Giant - Ordning or no Ordning. Iymrith claimed the Lords' Alliance murdered Queen Neri, and when King Hekaton went to confront them he went missing. Iymrith also added that Hekaton's youngest daughter sits on the throne, but that her inexperience is throwing the court into chaos and weakening the Storm Giants' Influence.
  
• 3rd Page - "That thing the Storm Giant Herald told me last week has been weighing heavily on my mind. If the Lords' Alliance is truly behind Neri's death and Hekaton's disappearance, might they also be responsible for the Ordning breaking in the first place? I will finally make my pilgrimage to the 'Eye of the All-Father' to seek answers for myself."
  
• 4th Page - "This temple is much more magnificent that I'd imagined; our ancestors were the pinnacle of Giant-kind to have made all this. The bad news is that it's about as cold as one would expect this far North. On the other hand, for some good news: I finally formulated some pipe-grass with the right potency for myself but now I'm TOO high - I grabbed the wrong weapon and stumbled off with it, hahahahahahaHahaha. Did I really just take the time to write out 'haha?' Oh man..."
  
• 5th Page - "They've been pursuing me since I cleared Lurkwood and will be upon me soon. The Dream Spell failed - my friends, if you find this: if what the Oracle told me is true, then I..."
  

.
After some deliberation, the group decided the notes don't provide enough new information for them to step away from their quest to find the Giant-Slaying weapon presumably left behind in Yartar by the missing Harthol Zymorven so they continue on, but mean to seek out more answers about this 'Eye of the All-Father' at a later time.
Around midday Paxton's Owl familiar communicates to him, "Don't look up, but there appears to be a dragon circling high above us."
Paxton quietly lets his comrades know of the situation. He casts Mage Armor on himself and Sir Oswald casts Armor of Agathys on himself. Their casting of spells seems to have alerted the dragon of their awareness of them as it begins to dive. Paxton then casts Invisibility on himself.
There's a nearby tor jutting out of the bog nearby that Paxton suggests they all run towards, but they only make it a little ways off the road before realizing that Sir Oswald is staying in place, trying to draw the Dragon's ire to himself.
In a flash of cobalt blue, the Dragon both forcefully and gracefully lands on a nearby boulder still some 60' from them. With its bulk nearly the size of a large covered wagon, it puffs out the yellow plates of its underbelly and cocks its head as it stares down its snout and horn towards the group. In a deep, steady voice it speaks, "Greetings little travelers. Are you lost? From where have you come? To where do you travel?"
Not wanting to divulge too much information Creedun only mentions they're traveling to Yartar and they didn't mean to trespass on the Dragon's territory.
"I'm only here to talk, let's drop the spells and magic in the name of diplomacy; I know there's a 5th member of your group skulking around somewhere. Now, normally I'd demand some tribute for such a trespass," the Young Blue Dragon continues, "but today I'm interested only in information. Just last night I passed the strangest thing - what looked like a tower... that had fallen from the sky... just off the road? You wouldn't have happened to have noticed that too would have, traveling past there towards Yartar as you say."
Creedun asks the Dragon if they can just be on their way and that they mean no harm or disrespect. Sir Oswald musters as much Charisma as he can (which is quite a lot) and says they'd be willing to trade information for information). He asks the Blue Dragon what he found in the tower, what he thought of it, and why he wants to know more?
"I found a dead Giant in the tower, I found it rather odd, and it is my business to know what happens in my territory." The Dragon adds with a thin veil of forced patience, "I'm normally not so generous but you amuse me human; I've now answered 3 of your questions and you none of mine. What do you know of the tower?"
Otto chimes in saying the Cloud Giant Zephyros had been their friend once and he believes he'd been trying to get a message through to them.
The Dragon grins a cruel smile, "As I suspected. I will add you to the collection of the Queen of Statues - the Gathering Storm!" as it pumps its mighty wings to take flight.
Roll Initiative!
.
Creedun conjures two Giant Eagles which Grapple the Dragon before it takes off.
This is obviously a cunning foe as it completely ignores the beasts and unleashes a torrent of deadly lightning into the Dwarven Bard, shocking him so badly that it's impossible to maintain concentration. As the Eagles poof into nothingness, the Dragon flies up 40' above the ground and begins circling the group.
Otto is struggling to hit the dragon at this range with his Hand Crossbow and uses his new martial training to stow his shield and attack with his Shortbow at the same time.
Paxton appears next to Sir Oswald, and laying a hand on him casts a spell allowing the heavily armored Knight to fly!
Sir Oswald streaks towards the Dragon and positions himself above it, striking mightily into the Dragon's back twice.
Ransom makes a Spiritual Weapon appear next to Dragon to slash at him, while Creedun resummons his Giant Eagles, though this time the Dragon fends off their grapple.
The Blue Dragon mauls Sir Oswald several times then tries to fly away, knowing that even if the Eagle can keep up, the Knight can't. He's betting that his scales can fend off their attacks and is partly correct, both eagles fail to land even a scratch. Sir Oswald with a lucky swing strikes a critical weak spot behind the Dragon's shoulder and adds a charged-up Smite into the fleeing Dragon
Paxton takes advantage of the Dragon having left the cluster of his allies and centers a Fireball on the Dragon. As the dragon flies out of the bursting flame it is singed and starting to look quite hurt.
The resummoned Giant Eagles catch up and both successfully grapple the Dragon as the 3 of them tumble to the ground, WHAM! Still thrashing on the ground the Dragon bites and claws the injured Eagles, causing both of them to poof from existence.
The Dragon takes an expert shot from Otto's Short Bow and not only looks very hurt, but for the first time shows actual fear itself. It moves to retreat, but instead of flying away it begins to burrow into the soft boggy soil. The group only sees it burrow in 10' and then loose sight of it in the dark tunnel.
Paxton throws a fireball right at the opening of the tunnel, hoping the edges of the flaming blast will catch the Dragon. He hears no sound as to whether it hit or missed.
Even running at top speed Otto isn't quick enough to reach the hole before the Dragon can burrow further in and the tunnel turns at such an angle the Gnome can't blind-fire in. Then he remembers that he has one more "Ka-boomer" left from the merchant cart they encountered south of Calling Horns. He lights the fuse and tosses it into the tunnel. 4 seconds later KABOOM!!! followed by a screeching roar of pain.
Sir Oswald flies down into the tunnel with no hesitation in hopes to finish off the Dragon but emerges a couple seconds later saying, "It's dead." The Kaboomer had blown open the side of its face as smoke poured up and viscera dripped down from its eye.
The group tries harvesting some scales and teeth, but damages their trophies in the process. Sir Oswald opens the Dragon's belly to find a couple human skulls and bones, along with a partially digested dagger. He also insists on spending more time to try to acquire the Dragon's snout horn. Paxton puts his Secure Hut spell over the tunnel while he works because spending several hours exposed in the wilderness doesn't seem like a safe plan.
The rest of the day and a half journey to Yartar is uneventful and everyone arrives fully rested.
.
They find a contingency of guards inspecting everyone who arrives to the city's outer gate. They make their way inside and get food recommendations from a cheery local man.
They're directed to the man's favorite joint - a "dive" dinner on the edge of the "bad part of town - called Karletta's Table.
There they find a one story flat-roofed building hemmed in by larger buildings that appear to have 3rd-story additions built atop older structures. Karletta's Table has crates stacked up outside that several young street kids are using to play and climb on, some have even climbed up onto the roof and are playing up there, another youngster in dirty clothes runs out from behind the diner with a fist-full of bread.
The group walks through the swinging saloon-style doors and gets their bearings in the dim light inside. Most of the booths have privacy walls, but they see a few folk who look down on their luck, a few more working class people, and a couple women arm-wrestling.
Behind the bar is a window looking into the kitchen where clanging pots and pans and sizzling can be heard. A half-elf with dark blue dyed hair cropped short on one side, wearing leather armor with an apron over it comes into view yelling at some staff around the corner, "You don't have that ready yet? By the gods, what am I paying you for, eh?" She notices the party standing in the dinning area and immediately switches her demeaner to a sweet and welcoming smile. "Hey sorry nobody was there to welcome you, feel free to seat yourselves! Someone will be with you in a moment :) " She returns into the part of the kitchen out of view and continues commanding the kitchen staff in an authoritative tone.
Creedun suggests they sit where he can watch the women arm-wrestle and after a few rounds he approaches them with Otto and asks if he can challenge one of them for a round of drinks. There's some brief chit-chat and the women seem fond of taunting Creedun and Otto, mostly in good fun. They tell the adventurers that they work the docks in the fishing industry. Otto mentions that he's a fisher as well and that's how he lost his eye.
One of the women cranks her shoulder a bit as though it's stiff and says to the other, "What do you think Sally? You wanna take 'im?"
Sally, "Are you gunna need some books to sit on, guy?" alluding to the Dwarf's stoutness. "How 'bout instead a drinks though we wrestle for the story of your friend's lost eye. I win against short an stout 'ere - you tell us your tale, little guy?" Otto agrees.
After a particularly close match Sally pins Creedun and Otto launches into a captivating tale from his youth when their boats' nets caught a Kraken, and how he had to climb into the nets to free the beast. In the process he slipped and severed the end off one of the Kraken's tentacles, fell back into the boat and the knife "poked him in the eye."
There is a long pause. Eventually Sally says, "Pffffft, I call bullsh!t There's no way that was a Kraken. That's a mythical beast; even if one does exist there's been no claims of seeing one in a hundred years at least. Plus, it would have dragged your ship to the bottom before you had a chance to free it."
Otto insists he's not lying.
Sally adds, "look, I'm sure you were entangled with something big and tentacle-y, maybe a Giant Octopus, maybe a newborn Kraken, but if that were a real one you'd be a skeleton at the bottom of the ocean right now."
There's a little more benign chit-chat. Otto refers to the women as "madams" which they get a hoot out of. Then he uses his Thieves Cant to see if there's more to them than meets the eye and mentions being "a part of their guild" and "wondering if they could help him."
The women look at each other and Sally says, "Let's step outside for a chat little guy. Just us and and you; your friends can stay in here and order their meal." Otto assures his party that it'll be fine. Paxton keeps watch on the situation with his Owl Familiar waiting outside.
Sally calls to the kitchen, "Hey Karletta could we get some more bread" and they're given a basket of bread as they walk with Otto out a back door.
.
Outside Sally laughs and says he must be new in town and there's no way he's part of their guild. They ask what he wants and he mentions he's looking for someone. Sally scoffs, saying they don't point strangers to members of their guild. He explains - still in somewhat vague terms - he's looking for a Noble's son who's gone missing. He offers them 50gp if they can help. Sally leans to the other woman and whispers something.
Paxton, listening through his Owl's senses hears her ask her friend, "Do you think he's talking about Mel?"
Sally tells Otto to go back inside with his friends and they'll be back with their friend who can tell him more. Neither Otto nor Paxton (through his Familiar) can discern any fowl-play or malice so they wait.
In the meantime Karletta had come by to take the group's order and comments about how quiet Paxton is and asks why he's sitting upright with his eyes closed. Creedun tells her his friend is just really tired and asks for a bib to put on the wizard.
Otto comes back in just as Ransom is pinning Creedun in their own arm-wrestling match.
.
Paxton has his owl follow the two women. One sets the basket of bread down on a nearby crate but the owl follows them to a warehouse where they disappear inside for several minutes. When they reemerge they're accompanied by a young woman and an older halfling woman; they all head back towards the diner. Paxton tells his owl to check out the bread basket, but when he gets there there are barely even crumbs.
The four women reenter Karletta's Table. Without pause the Halfling woman jumps up onto the bench, eye-level with Ransom and the others "I hear you want to ask my friend Mel some questions. I'm just here to make sure it goes smoothly, okay?"
Mel pulls up a chair and sits at the end of the booth. Between asking questions to Mel and the Halfling, they learn:

• Mel and Harthol Zymorven ran to Yartar with some of his father's stolen property to start a new life.
  
• Harthol ended up "also stealing her heart before proving he was a snake." He got involved with another woman on a Riverboat gambling cruise. They were seen leaving the riverboat together, but he was never seen again after that.
  
• They must have gone back to his apartment because everyone of his that was of value was gone - including gold, platinum, gems, and a weapon stolen from his father's keep.
  
• The woman always wears a purple dress and is often seen entering and leaving the riverboat casino.
  
• Their Thieves Guild - The Hands of Yartar - want payback on the woman in the purple dress, but (a) can't gain access to the cruise (they suspect a traitor in their midst), and (b) has a strict code of no assassinations outside of a hired contract. By pointing the Adventurers in her direction the guild hopes the situation will escalate and revenge will unfold naturally.
  
• The casino cruise itself belongs to a rival of the Hands of Yartar, so any additional mischief or trouble caused for them is a bonus in the eyes of the guild.
  
• The gambling boat - called 'The Grand Dame' - is owned by a man named Khaspere Drylund, who lives aboard the vessel.
  
• The best way to gain access to the cruise would be to pose either as staff (rowers, chefs/servers, musicians, game table facilitators, escorts) or to attend as wealthy guests who come to network and to gamble in the casino.
  

​
.
Next time - All Aboard the Grand Dame!

Hi All,
I thought of putting together a list of all the current free to play games that are currently available to UK players. There is a blend of daily and weekly games that can tally up over time. Most require you to have made a deposit at the site in the past but there is usually a worthwhile welcome offer to use up if you're new to each gambling site. I usually take away £25-£50 from these games each month and combined with all the free bets it can add up to a nice little amount over time.
Ladbrokes - The daily game is called "Instant Spins" under the "Gaming" section along the top and the majority of the time you will get some sort of winnings out of it - either free spins on slots in the casino or even cash winnings. The weekly game is called "1-2-Free" in the "Sports" sports section and requires you to submit 3 guesses on the outcome of football games before a Saturday deadline - you'll either receive a £1, £2 or £5 free bet depending on the amount of correct answers.
Coral - This has a similar gaming offer to the above. You'll find a game called "Reward Grabber" under the "Gaming" section, look under the More link along the top navigation bar to find it. Again it has a nice selection of prizes and I have found it to regularly give out prizes. You should also play the weekly "Correct 4" game on the Sport tab, take 4 guesses for a chance to win up to £50 in cash or free bets.
WilliamHill currently has two games on offer. The daily play is called "Bonus Drop" and you will find it within the Vegas section of the site. It does not win as much as the above two daily plays, but I've won on it a couple times. They also offer a game called "Scratch of the day" that will always unlock a special deal of the day for you, however it usually involves a small amount if it is worth using at all. The weekly game involves picking 6 football games that which will have 3 or 4 goals.
SkyBet - Check out the "SkyVegas" section and look out for the "Free Prize Machine" for a daily game which you can play after 12 o'clock midday. I have won some nice amounts from this, however a lot of the time it can just unlock 10p bets so you can check out the gambling arcade games.
VirginBet - A pretty good offering here with three different games active at the moment. "Virgin Bet Fives" is a rather unique offering, if you go to the site each day and unlock a player. For each goal that player scores in the upcoming game you will get a randomly selected amount (usually £1). They also offer a weekly quiz, that you can use to unlock free bets if you know your sports history. I've found it fairly easy to answer 5 questions for a £5 free bet. Last of all is a free game within the casino called "Secrets of the phoenix" which can sometimes score you free games.

The results are in for Match 8.
Agnes and Arpeggi, in their shrunken states, continued to fight, surrounded by the rising flames of their lilliputian tower, fists flying and Stand blows being taken one after the other.
“You… Callous mother fucker!” Arpeggi cursed, Agnes feeling the singe of a heat blast both from behind and from launched wood. “We’re not aiming for a massacre!”
“You’re not,” Agnes spat out, then, pulling a tab on the table, a massive geyser erupting and launching his so-called ally away, “I don’t give a fuck about this place, and we’re in a Stand battle… And it’s all worthless, greedy scumbags watching! Let the fire spread! Let this place hit the ground so they see what someone with style can do!”
“You heard it here, folks! Agnes talked you all down… C’mon, where’s your passion! Don’t run out and away, c’mon! And here I thought you cared y’had money ridin’ on this…”
Conqueror Worm’s laughs reverberated as Glitch and William found themselves cooled by Ocean Eyes’ nectar, which found itself dissolving quickly but, for the moment, a functional barrier for the injured fighters, watching and listening to what happened.
“Th… They’re fighting each other up there…” William remarked, physically looking as though he was straining to force Ocean Eyes not to hurry up there and tear them a new one. “Glitch, we don’t have time to keep the flames at bay and call up another KST, and if I let Ocean Eyes up there it’ll eviscerate them, and-”
“What’s this? The kid is holdin’ back, afraid of his own Stand! Hey, kid, don’t hate this part of yourself! Ocean Eyes, it ain’t your enemy, that’s a part of you, what makes you special, so don’t be at odds with it! Embrace what it says, because it’s what YOU’RE sayin’!”
William was speechless, there, but his companion was less inactive in that time. Tiger “Glitch” Ricky simply hissed, then, her and her Stand hopping up out of the flames in an effort to brutally, mercilessly pounce upon the self-styled villain and the ally he had come to blows with. If they moved fast, they could bite through that shitty little twink’s neck right now!
Arpeggi grit his teeth, scrambling to find his footing as he witnessed the pouncing cat-stand, finding it hard to breathe among all the burning rubble, fading fast then.
Is… Is this how it ends..? Crushed and mangled as some lowlife’s burnt-up game piece..?
“And it looks like Glitch is about to take it! Shout-outs to Tigran, the only real one here, watchin’ through the fire and the flames!”
“Heh… This is just a bit of a sweat,” Tigran Sins answered, stifling a cough, “I’ll see all seven of these bastards run through games until they’re all-”
Arpeggi didn’t hear what was said next, only hearing his own defiant heartbeat. If he didn’t act fast, Agnes would die… Good riddance, right? But… Ugh, no, even scum like him, they don’t deserve…
He clutched at NEXT LEVEL until his fingers bled, and Glitch and William, both looking at him past their Stands waiting to attack, made curious sounds as yet more crumbled away.
“Mrr?!”
And then, there was white. An overwhelming cascade of baking soda burst from NEXT LEVEL, smothering the flames rapidly as an obscured form zipped up the tower again, grabbing Agnes and hurrying away from the thrown-off Glitch.
“You… Why did you…” Agnes rubbed baking soda out of his eyes, coughing and looking at the form of Arpeggi in this new Stand. “Motherfucker…”
“I have responsibility over even a scumbag like you… You tailed me here, and I’m not gonna let you die and escape responsibility easy.” He turned, then, to William and Glitch, his new form revealed. “Now, actually help me, follow my lead, and I’ll kick your ass later. We need to survive this-”
All four of the fighters, then, felt themselves grow rapidly, their combined weight so close together crushing the table they were on, much as a nearby tabletop wargame that had been setup found itself buckling under the weight of Metra, Oh No, the Black Angel, and their motorcycle.
“Welp,” Worm said with a bemused laugh, holding up the slumped body of Tigran. “Your fire couldn’t hurt him, but smoke inhalation sure could! I guess that means…”
“The winner is FIRE, with a score of 65!”

Category	Winner	Point Totals	Comments
Popularity	Graveyard Shift	12-17
Quality	Graveyard Shift	19-20	Reasoning
JoJolity	BADD GUYS	24-18	Reasoning
Conduct	Tie	10-10

With no more reason to fight, it got really awkward and everyone just sort of ran out of Heartache Casino. William Eyelash, recalling his stand and lost in thoughts, was the last to leave, joining the others in leaping single-file out a window into a nearby alley.
There, though everyone else seemed tensely uninvolved, the Black Angel’s motorcycle revved, and she stared down Worm as he safely stowed Tigran inside his Stand-body, leaning on his golden sword.
“There’s still something I need, Jones… I’ll run you down to get it if it means saving the city.”
Worm laughed, gesturing with his sword. “This thing? You’re huntin’ me down for this… Ah! I see! You’re tryin’ to do that.” Callously, he tossed it, so suddenly they fumbled with it in hand. “Here ya go, then! I don’t much want what Jack Aurel’s cookin’ up either!”
The Angel, worn and exhausted, stammered. “I… You just… But…”
“Lookin’ forward to killin’ me, huh? Get in line, kid… Or waste your time right now! See, nobody here is botherin’, they can all read that it’d be a waste when I’m in such good health! City’s countin’ on you, yeah, and you won’t get many opportunities for bein’ called a hero as an adult. Make it count!”
Then, before anyone could say more, he darted through a nearby wall, waving William and the rest off with a, “Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming and be sure it will lead us aright!”
…
…
“Asshole.” The Angel turned away, strapping the sword to their back and driving away. “Thank you, all of you. I’ll take this from here… Get yourselves help.”
There was silence as they drove into the sky, scarf billowing before them, and then Agnes started cackling. “You’re all fucking morons… If I didn’t burn that place down, we wouldn’t have gotten away, and some wannabe with no style would be going down as Los Fortuna’s worst villain! Fucking bow and grovel, Jack Aurel’s grave is gonna say ‘spat on by Agnes!’”
Nobody had the energy to dignify that with a response.
An anticlimax is leading into a super-climax, and meanwhile, an ant-loving little boy and an aid worker are racing through their dreamscapes, with a day left to vote there.
Narration:
What is, as of the 1990s, ‘Capital Island,’ was the epicenter of Los Fortuna’s founding several hundred years ago, in the midst of a bloody Stand User conflict, many militias clashing for superiority, in the 1680s, starting with the death of the era’s own Andrew Tiffany, the missionary William Mandolin, and towards its end, knocking people into their senses through the awakening of exactly what he had tried to warn them of.
A grand T-Rex by the name of Megalomania had survived, dormant, underneath the land through the might of its Stand, coated in a goldlike substance, and awoken in a deep rage by the conflict of the locals. Megalomania was met in battle by a man out of place named Aaron Bruno, ‘Sir Aurel’ to most, and Memory Management, and when slain, crumbled where it stood into a pile of bones, feet firm in the ground.
Los Fortuna’s natural history museum was built around this monster’s remains, and Sir Aurel would turn its golden coat into a ceremonial weapon. The power these symbols were imbued with, even with their old purposes lost, were of great importance to the city’s stability.
Scenario:
Outside Los Fortuna’s Natural History Museum, Early Evening
In the blink of an eye, the attention of everyone within Los Fortuna had been turned to the natural history museum. That made sense, of course - considering the looming dark clouds containing the ghosts of the dead within them, the scuffles of the stand users outside of the building, and the vague knowledge that a ritual with the purpose of destroying fate itself was currently being performed within it, it would be out of the ordinary for people to not be paying it any attention. Even those who weren’t stand users that were up to date with the situation were drawn to it by the unusual level of activity surrounding it, from emergency services and VALKYRIE forces alike.
And then there was Bert. They were invested in the whole situation, of course - keeping up with the latest reality-breaking ancient rituals was the least that a wannabe god like them could do. Their status as an observer did raise a few eyebrows - they’d had to shake off both emergency service workers and VALKYRIE forces, who’d both taken the time to try and encourage Bert to leave the area for their own safety, clearly underestimating Bert’s own prowess.
Within the chaos, one could be excused for not failing to notice the drones Bert had been sending around to overhear and oversee it all. First, they paid attention to the chief of security at VALKYRIE, Ugo McBasie, who seemed to be getting interviewed by someone from the Fortuna Hermod, an ODIN-owned news publication (not their usual guy at scenes like this… Wonder what happened to him). Bert had heard that the man was a violent and irresponsible meathead who’d caused plenty of trouble in the past, but he seemed to be keeping a thin veil of professionalism for now. However, Bert couldn’t help but notice a young man in a blue aviator cap standing a few meters behind the reporter and staring daggers at him, perhaps keeping him in check somehow, occasionally piping in for comment about how it was all they could do to surround the place and wait for an opening if they didn’t want a meat grinder on their hands.
Meanwhile, Los Fortuna’s own city council chairman, Raymond Delwin Shimizu was discussing something of note with someone else, who seemed to have just finished an interview of his own. Bert didn’t recognize him, but the interviewer had called him “Chief Prosecutor Cavallo”, and she seemed as if she knew what she was talking about, so Bert opted to believe her. The interviewer, Jillian Something-or-other, had been running all over the scene, trying to get interviews alongside her oversized cameraman Bert recognized as having been that really huge cop who used to hang around Aurelio a lot of the time not successfully doing his job. Not worth Bert’s time.
Cavallo scratched his head in frustration. “Chairman, please tell me that you’ve made progress of some kind here...”
Ray shook his head. “Not much. That stand user that’s working alongside Jack Aurel, Akiko Mizushima, is making it impossible to get in - anyone we do send in is as good as gone. We haven’t even been able to get Admiral Pineapples out. Judging by your demeanor, I assume that the board hasn’t made much progress either.”
“No, doesn’t seem like it.” Cavallo let out a long sigh. “Every day, it’s just more and more work… Now we’re stuck having to deal with this. If nothing’s done, the board’s thinking it might very well cause a disaster unmatched by… Well, anything but the earthquake from thirty years ago. Something like this, bending the rules of the city, and breaking free from it… Los Fortuna’s probably not going to let that slide easily.” He shook his head. “Where the hell is the mayor through all this? Watching anime at home or something, probably.”
Ray remained silent for a bit, thinking to himself. “Well, we’ve got emergency services ready to act for now, and we’re working on evacuating any susceptible areas, but it only works so much.” Before Cavallo could respond, another reporter came up to Raymond, ready with a batch of questions for him. “Well, Cavallo, our work isn’t done yet, so let’s get to it. Saving as many people as possible here should be our utmost priority.” And with that, the two men parted ways for the time being.
Having listened enough, Bert began thinking to themselves. This was a tricky situation - they clearly couldn’t get in as is, but they certainly wanted to. Learning more about the situation at hand would improve their knowledge of the mechanisms holding Los Fortuna together, and gaining control over the ritual somehow would certainly be a feat befitting of a god such as them.
Bert stood in front of the museum entrance, taking another look at the chaos in front of them and continuing to think about the next step they’d take. So many different possibilities, so little time. They thought, and thought, and then one of their drones’ eyes glanced upon someone familiar - a blue haired, red eyed woman wearing a mask, trying to blend in and clearly resenting it, skulking around the perimeter of the area as though she, too, wished to enter.
Yet despite her efforts, Bert recognized her.
“Emilie ‘Dread’ Delacroix!” They declared it loudly, thoughtlessly so, approaching her with a hand raised. “Are you perhaps looking to find a crevasse through which to enter that place as well? It’s quite fortified, isn’t it?”
“Hm?” She wasn’t bothered by the way Bert drew attention to her, still wearing her same very extra outfit under the also quite extra hooded dark robe she was using to blend in. “Ah, pardon me dearly for having failed to notice you… You are Bert, from that incident where we fought on equal terms, yes?”
“I am that same Bert, Emilie ‘Dread’ Delacroix, yes. Though I doubt I could be much mistaken for others…”
“We are both quite conspicuous individuals, yes,” Dread said, taking the conversation into a nearby alley before VALKYRIE goons on the scene could prove it was her, “but no, I’m not terribly nonplussed about my abilities to infiltrate that place… Simply, I am attempting to assess the probability by which my approach itself, through the barricades erected, might occur. If your intentions happen to be helping me sneak through, then it is simply not necessary on any fronts… I have formulated a plan now.”
Dread, now appearing alone, walked through that alley curiously, looking around her and beginning to see her opportunity of approach - there appeared to be a side door there, at which a certain fish-themed hero was sitting outside, looking, Dread knew from their DMs, at funny images of her wife atop the T-Rex skull in the museum.
Yes, certainly, this would be-
“Whoa, hey, it’s you!”
Damnable. Had she been spotted, or..?
No, no, wait. The one speaking, a man also in this alleyway who smelled of cannabis, holding what looked like a GAP bag, was speaking to someone on the opposite side of it, disembarking from a sportbike and handing it to the rider, who was wearing a very ornate-looking golden sword which Dread had sworn she’d seen somewhere before.
“Thanks,” the Black Angel told this young man, accepting the bag and producing its contents - a Roman helmet and black bird-looking tokusatsu cosplay? “Green couldn’t make it himself, huh?”
“I made it,” the guy said, pointing proudly to himself, before blinking. “Oh, you mean like… Showing up. Yeah, no, there was a thing with a mammoth coming down from the mountains, he’s helping East deal with that. Feel like lighting up before you go in? It’ll take the edge off..!”
The rider removed their helmet, coincidentally perfectly timed for the strawberry-blonde with pale blue eyes to stare him down incredulously. “About a million people live on this island, Weedboy. Now is not the time…” The Angel ducked into the nearby building to change, finishing, “shit, yeah, it looks just like the Flying Men do… uh. you should get out of here now.”
“You kidding?” He asked. “I don’t wanna bow out right before it gets good! That’s, like, saying I think you can’t do it!”
Well, these two appeared distracted, so Dread would continue along her way, walking right past them and towards the blockade, towards where Jo was sitting casually, only to be interrupted by-
“Holy shit, it really is her! Stop right there, Dread!”
Oh boy, here we go. This had been happening more lately, since a somewhat frustrating individual went and opened his big mouth about her dangers on Bifrost. Turned out that the head of VALKYRIE was literally in the server, so now she had a bounty on her head after a modicum of investigation into her after that public statement, and her casual admittance thereof!
Two armored guards were pointing guns at her as she stood there, unfazed.
“Don’t come any closer!” One of them, an older woman, said, turning to her younger partner and quickly telling him, “if she approaches, open fire. She’ll eat you alive if not!”
“This again, are you being serious?” Dread was less than pleased. “I am evil, and a murderer, unrepentantly so, yes, but I do not eat people. This rumor is being so blown out of proportion that I find it quite tiresome.”
“F-fuck off and die!” The younger moved to fire his weapon, only to realize there was a knife through him, catching the gun by the trigger after running from his shoulderblade to his fingertip.
Dread didn’t need the help, but like a true friend, Kimijo Kaneko offered it anyway
“Wh-what the-” The older woman cursed as her partner was cut open and dropped. “Fucking useless moron! HEY, EVERYONE, KANEKO BROKE RANK AND DREAD IS HERE TO! NOW’S OUR CHANCE TO-”
The distraction, then, was all it took for Dread to take her first kill of the day. Of course it was fine. She read the news, she knew how these VALKYRIE people were literally at war with poor people.
“Sh-shit, those people just died! More VALKYRIE corpses, and Jo again..!” The stoner declared in the background, and the Black Angel, now dressed exactly like the birdmen many had seen before, paused in her efforts to run past the opening created by Jo breaking formation.
Nobody could hear it or see her lips move, but she apologized under her breath, clenching her fist, but the disguise had worked. 32 Footsteps, the primary guard which would warp away anyone who tried to enter, apparently had instructions to allow in anybody dressed like this, yet none of the intended recipients of this deliberate loophole made their way in.
“Dread, hello, friend!” Jo exclaimed in high spirits, sheathing her knife, but still speaking quietly as she hurried back into place, “good to see you!”
“Yes, it is most certainly fortuitous for us to encounter one another…” Dread agreed, walking and talking with her as the pair were watched in horror. “By any chance, may I come into this museum? I am absolutely curiously intrigued by what is going on within here…”
“Sure!”
A VALKYRIE sniper was taking aim at Dread, then, as she entered, muttering under her breath, “got a shot lined up… I can take her out, and Jo a second later! Two bastards out of the way, at least, and-”
“Wait,” the youth in a blue aviator hat and goggles, speaking as VALKYRIE’s tactician, instructed, “hold your fire.”
“Sir, she just made one of our senior officers fall into rotten pieces! She’s chatting it up with this fish-bitch like it’s nothing!”
“I know, and I’m appalled too, but I think…” The Blue Kid paused, contemplatively. “No, I know it. Dread is here to defeat John Aurel, just like the Black Angel.”
Spinning and pivoting through the air, “Lou” Reed, dressed like a dark, sixth Flying Man, landed atop the skull of the t-rex, which had apparently been adorned in a cute little pirate hat. It made for a fine vantage point, then, to look all over the halls of the Natural History museum, noting one, two, three, four spots, grotesque and morbid statues Remix had apparently erected of ghostly abominations.
She was exhausted, injured from the three-way skirmish she, Metra, and Oh No had been forced to undergo and riding like hell to get here, but she had made it this far, and others had managed to get in too. She couldn’t choke now.
Seven minutes… I’ll just have to destroy those, and be back here in seven minutes. Easy enough… I don’t think I’ve been-
“Green, Orange, and Purple… I don’t believe a ‘Flying Man Black’ was ever mentioned, nor that any of the brothers were into swords.”
Shit. That voice, too… Lou turned around, then, seeing someone standing behind her, a man with long dark hair, brandishing a hammer and looking up at her.
John “Jack” Aurel.
“Even if you are what you appear to be and not in disguise, you should realize that you aren’t welcome here. There’s nothing to be done in this museum worth dying for, and no way to accomplish any more foolish goal if I were to raise attention now. Care to waste some of the time you have left and explain?”
Of course this would happen. Lou removed her faux-beak, helmet, and goggles, staring down at him as her hair billowed in the ceiling fans’ wind. “Jack… I’ve come here to put a stop to this.”
“You’re that kid who’s always running around, huh?” Jack frowned, twirling his hammer. “I hear what you talk about through the grapevine… About how we’re all victims of fate, forced against each other by Gravity. That Stand Users are always going to be molded by this… You understand it too. You understand that people like us prey upon the weak, that it’s in our natures and our place in the world. I want to remove myself from that… Remove these people from that, and atone for what I’ve done.”
“By killing even more people! There’s no way they’ll get everyone away from your blast radius, and you haven’t even given them the chance to!” Lou protested. “It doesn’t have to be this way… Don’t say this is how it has to be! We can save this place, free everyone from gravity, without barreling towards its destruction! I don’t want to kill you, Jack. I want you to stop this crazy, self-indulgent crap and help me do something real!”
“You think everyone deserves this? That Stand Users will simply reform without this? The cycle has started, and it will push to the end even if the wave guiding it fades away completely… Bastards, the lot of us, and I don’t intend to run from what I’ve done. I’ll give you one chance to run away, kid… the worst I can call you is naive.”
Lou drew the golden blade, seeing Jack wince as he clearly recognized its significance, all as her Stand appeared behind her. “We both know I can’t do that, even if I can barely keep my balance up here. And hey, maybe I will die here… Maybe I am fated not to see this through. But then, someone is gonna finish this for me! Your security is already compromised!”
“Fascinating… And you are utterly convinced that, should it work, those he’s slain to commence this ritual to begin with will return outside the city?”
“Remix is full of himself,” Jo said, nodding quietly, “but he and Jack, they researched a lot… Akiko and I, for helping this finish, we can finally go home! Be done with the bad city…”
“She has made this place remarkably impregnable,” Dread agreed, thinking aloud, “anyone who waltzes in waltzes into her backrooms…”
“Unless they have a ‘pass!’” A voice from within Dread’s cloak spoke, and as Jo raised her knife at it in defense, the pure-white, terribly contorted form of Bert tumbled onto the ground, stretching and reshaping into their typical humanlike shape.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, they are fine, with me!” Dread assured Jo, frankly thankful to have that weight literally off her back. Bert was very light, but even then it was hard to walk carrying someone, let alone not give it away. “We have… Some history, and so I thought I might as well indulge Bert’s request to see this place as well. I apologize for not mentioning earlier, but it was quite dire getting in here past guards attacking us.”
Jo didn’t seem to mind, continuing to lead the pair around, even passing Akiko who was casually, distractedly reading some manga while in a bit of a pirate mood.
They also passed by another scene, slightly more concerning, of an injured old man in a Hawaiian Shirt, close by the frontmost entrance of the place and clutching himself as his fleet of four Stand-starships remaining fired at Remix, who guarded against it with ghost-objects while a Flying Man Red tried to find an opening to strike.
“You’ve been at this for hours, old man, die already! You have no place in the world I mean to birth from your bloodied, pulped remains!”
Pineapples stood, then, leaning against the wall, trying not to show weakness.
“I think that guy is going to lose, at this rate… It’s a shame, too,” Bert, the loudmouth again, remarked. “He might have been a worthwhile pawn in wrestling control away from this operation.”
Dread, Jo, Remix, and Red all gave Bert simultaneous incredulous looks, all in completely unique ways.
Jo drew her knife again, about to transform, only to dodge out of the way of the injured ‘Lou’ Reed, blacked out, helmetless, being knocked away and into the floor, the shock of which made her rise quickly, feeling around. “Where’s the- Shit!” As she sat up, then, feeling around for the saber no longer in her possession, she noticed that she was smack in the middle of something else here.
Hurriedly, she rolled away, standing herself up and looking to the injured Admiral. “You… You’re one of those MFAs, right? How did you-?”
Weakly, he gestured to Remix. “He brought me here in a damned urn! I’ve been fending them off to buy others in the museum time to escape… Everyone in this hall here and Jack, those are the only ones left in the building, minus masses and masses of ghosts. They’re harmless, though… Don’t worry about them attacking unless that guy takes them.”
“I see…” Lou, then, smiled sadly, clutching her bloodied suit. She looked to Bert and Dread, then, moving to get between them and Jack’s incredulous accomplices. “You said you wanted to take him out, right? I overheard…”
“Well, Bert has let yet another cat out of the bag,” Dread admitted, “indeed, I came here with the intent of dethroning Jack Aurel before he had a chance to complete his little ritual. Few others would even be able to get in here.”
“So that’s my role, then…” Lou smiled, then, sighing, ducking out of the way of the Flying Man sending a kick her way, a gauntlet-clad arm emerging from her body, grabbing his ankle hard, and swinging him into the Jo who was shocked to hear Dread say that. “I can’t do anything about Jack… Too fucked up from that ED match…” She grinned, then, mouth bleeding as she stared Remix down. “But this old man and I can at least keep these assholes from interfering!”
Dread, then, watched passively as the five erupted into battle, she and Bert curious about what was to come as, from each hand, the Stand which emerged seemed to fire odd projectiles at their foes. “The ‘I’ll hold them off…’ You’re styling yourself as some sort of exceptional hero, aren’t you?” She seemed amused by that, the irony of their cooperation. “I’m evil, you know… And Bert, at least, is morally ambiguous. But if you’ve settled on putting the city in our hands, have you any advice?”
Over the sounds of laser fire, Lou quickly found time to answer, “yeah, there’s… I brought this golden ‘saber’ with me, and it must’ve fallen somewhere by the T-Rex… In, in a bit over six minutes from now, this ritual of theirs is gonna go through and rip this island open. Before that… They have these ‘failsafe’ statue things, and…” She took a breath, retracting and wincing from a blow her Stand had taken. “Look, I don’t have time to explain it, but you need to smash those up first! They’re there, made up of spirits fused together, to keep these guys safe from the consequences of their own actions… To ensure their safety, and at the same time act as a ‘failsafe’ for the ritual. Gives you the ‘power’ over it, too, in the way that right now Jack himself does… That’s important to stopping it. So you need to smash them first, and then, right as the time passes for the ritual, when the skull of the T-Rex in the center starts to split open and glow and its mouth starts gushing water… Embed the sword into the opening in its forehead, right as it starts to shape. That’s the only way to prevent this at this stage!”
“The forehead particularly, hmm?” Bert asked, pacing curiously and avoiding a cross split attack from Red, who barreled into Lou and was barely blocked. “Why there, per se? Why nowhere else on the thing?”
“Ngh..!” Lou grunted, saved from a follow-up by Pineapples. “I dunno, that’s just where you have to do it!”
“Black Angel… That’s what you’re called, yes?” Dread smiled, turning away. “You will be thanked for this victory… Try to live long enough to witness it firsthand, won’t you?”
“I’d… I’d love to,” Lou answered, smiling sadly, “for five years now, when I first learned there was anything worth a damn in this world, I’ve wanted to protect that… The dark pit of despair that was the first thirteen years of my life, and even so much since, I’d love nothing more than a world where no person is fated beyond impossible odds to suffer that.” She grew serious, then, raising her voice. “Go, now! Leave this to us!”
Bert and Dread approached the T-Rex, impressed at the amazing height and Akiko’s snazzy pirate duds upon the thing, the lab-grown being whistling with impression. “A T-Rex lived ‘til three-hundred years ago… Preserved whole, in this city. It’s astonishing, isn’t it, Emilie ‘Dread’ Delacroix?”
“A curious anomaly,” Dread agreed, examining it from afar, even noticing that alleged sword in the distance. “I wonder why it survived that long, so far after its brethren…”
“It’s because it was a ‘Stand User.’”
Jack approached from the same room in which Dread spotted glints of the golden saber, announcing his presence with that. “That was its ‘fate…’ A savage, cunning animal, ripped from where it belonged. to be a problem to solve and squabble over, to found this city on its literal bones.”
“John ‘Jack’ Aurel… You’d best stand down.” Bert, helpfully, started. “You cannot beat us… Even if we only had seconds to overcome you, I would be too much for you to handle!”
“No, he’s going to fight, I know it.” Dread, meanwhile, prepared Joywave, staring him down with a pointed, grinning lethality. “I suppose introductions are not necessary, with how Bert here loves to say my full name… I am not one to make things curt or brief, John, but consider yourself toppled, usurped, bloodied and dead.”
“The lab accident with a God complex and by far the worst, most grisly of Jo’s friends…” With no real amusement, no happiness in his eyes, Jack chuckled, looking them over. “Of course, right at the end, my final test isn’t some hero… It’s exactly the worst kind of Stand User! The apex predators that I’ve preyed upon, that stand in the way of saving everyone who’s died to reach this point! Of course it would be someone like me to gain entry, wouldn’t it?”
“You speak with such confidence you’ll raise the dead…” Bert was curious. “Even if it costs more lives, such a thing is… That is the realm of gods, John ‘Jack’ Aurel.”
“Not today it’s not,” Jack answered, twirling his hammer in his hand. “Both of you… You’ve been driven here, standing in my way, as agents of ‘fate’ itself. Isn’t that the reason you were ‘lucky’ enough to pass through our defenses… Because you were meant to stand here, and you were meant to watch as every horrible, cruel thing you’ve done amounts to nothing in the face of these circumstances.”
He looks the two intruders over with sympathy for a moment, before steeling himself and clenching his weapon, Stand appearing behind him just as stone-faced. “You may be the puppet of something beyond your control, but you must understand that I can’t let you ruin the plan I’ve bet my life on. I bear you no anger as people, but your role here is something I can’t ignore. I’ll waste our time no longer in arguing ethics, let there be no apologies or restraint until this is settled.”
The other conspirators had been instructed not to intervene if it came to this point, even if it risked the collapse of everything they had worked for. Not if it threatened lives. An enemy to make it this far was deserving of being dealt with reasonably. As the critical moment drew near, Jack readied all the fury that months of waiting had stored within him, and accepted that this may very well be his final true fight.
“Five minutes on the dot now, until ‘that time…’ If what the Black Angel said is true.” Dread looked to Bert. “What do you say we demonstrate incontrovertibly to John exactly how confused he truly is?”
OPEN THE GAME!
(Image credit to CaptainSpooky27!)
Location: A part of the Los Fortuna’s Natural History Museum. The area here is 75 by 75 meters with each tile being 5 by 5 meters. The ceilings here are 8 meters tall. The yellow tiles are the hallways and the green and purple tiles form the different rooms.
The white tiles have ritual shrines built on those areas. There are 7 shrines total and will be explained in further detail in the additional information.
The players start at the south of the map and Jack starts at the top of the map as represented by their tokens. The walls are represented by thicker borders and the dotted lines are the doorways.
At the top of the map, in the pink tile and yellow symbols, is the Golden Sword. It is currently pinned under 2 meters of rubble.
Each wing of the museum houses an exhibit, in the center is the main attraction a large T-Rex in display as denoted by the large grey circle.
The other exhibits are denoted by the letter on them:

• G: The geologic exhibit, displaying and teaching about different rock formations and types
  
• O: The two Oceanic exhibits, displaying the marine life and seabed of Los Fortuna.
  
• C: The climatography exhibit, displaying the different temperature maps and features across Los Fortuna.
  
• A: The Agricultural exhibit, displaying the various fruits and crops grown around Los Fortuna.
  
• T: The two Taxidermy exhibits, displaying a wide range of animals in roped off and glass displays.
  
• E:The Entomology exhibit, displaying photos and models of various bugs.
  

Goal: For the players, desecrate all the shrines and, when time runs out, have at least one of you, living and conscious, at the T-Rex with the golden sword in hand! For Jack, make sure the players don’t stop your ritual before it goes off!
The match will last exactly five minutes, unless of course players are dead before then. It doesn’t end just because players reach the goal.
Additional Information:
The shrines are 2 meter tall marked wood and metal structures, each having an strange carve effigy sitting in the center of them. In order to properly desecrate a shrine the players can do one of a few things, destroy the shrine outright, deface all the carvings made into the shrine, or destroy the effigy hidden within the shrine.
After destroying or defacing a shrine, the ghosts of the dead will begin harassing the players - three ghosts will move towards the player responsible for destroying the shrine (even in a situation where the stands are responsible: the ghosts will target Bert if a Perfect Hair minion destroys a shrine, and same for if anything affected by Joywave does so). These aren't strong, having flat 222 physicals and being partially see-through, but will increase in numbers as more and more shrines are destroyed. Strong enough hits can phase them out of existence, but they'll respawn ten seconds after at the spot that they previously were. They will go directly towards the players and can phase through any walls or objects that may be in their paths (but not out of any attacks), grabbing onto the players and trying to gang up on them once they're close enough to do so, dealing minor damage.

Team	Combatant	JoJolity
Red Carpet Rennaisance	Emilie "Dread" Delacroix	"Wow! It's a hand drawn original color illustration!" You’re a cultured woman, and this museum might very well end up being wiped off of the face of the earth quite soon, so you need to make the most of it while you still can! Make sure to visit and appreciate the various exhibits on display here! (Character Specific)
Suburban Regalia	Bert	"What a terrible person. If I wrote about someone like you, none of my readers would like it." So this man is playing at god, trying to control life, death, and fate themselves? What foolishness! Clearly, only you can do such things, and you do them best! Over the course of the strategy, prove your superiority to this “Jack Aurel“ and take him down a notch! (Character Specific)
???	Jack Aurel	"Where the hell did you go?! Come out, you fucker!" It's now or never. This is the culmination of all of your plans, and failing is absolutely not an option here. During the fight, hold nothing back, and make sure to thoroughly defeat your opponents so that no one and nothing will ever stand in your way again!

(Jack sheet plain text version)
Link to the Official Player Spreadsheet
Link to Match Schedule
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