The window in our living room is only about 13 inches wide. I've tried a portable unit for the last couple summers, but I just feel like it doesn't get good enough insulation in the window despite some of my best DIY efforts, so it's not nearly as effective as regular window units. Plus it's also really loud for the living room when I'm trying to watch TV. Has anyone ever come across a window unit narrow enough to fit in a window this size? I've checked Amazon, Wayfair, etc and no luck.
(What's most frustrating is that there are plenty of units that are less than 13 inches tall, if only I could put the unit in on its side!)

I bought an older house, I'm trying to re use the old cabinetry, I disconnected it all from the wall and slid it over so I could build a dishwasher cut out to go on the end of the old cabinetry. Turns out the old cabinetry is only 34 inches high, so when you put a laminate countertop on it, it has a half inch ledge, which drops the opening to 33 1/2, and when the new flooring goes in it'll probably drop it down to 33 or 33 & 1/8. So is 33 inches enough for a dishwasher or do I have to shim up the countertops 1/2, or lift all the cabinets 1/2", what's the minimum height that I'll be able to install a dishwasher into?

Hi, last year around spring break I was out on a walk when I saw a newly hatched turtle, caked in mud, and fully dried out. It seemed he was trying I cross the road, but didn't make it all the way.
I was always taught to just help them across and keep on moving, but the house across the street had highly aggressive dogs. Being the dumb fool I am, I brought him home with the intentions of taking him to a wildlife rescue.
Unfortunately, after buying all the supplies needed to house him, I started to grow attached and because I still live at home my parents told me should keep him.
Against my better judgment, I did. I know this is very wrong and I messed up, but I don't want my little guy to have to suffer because I'm a dumb human.
His name is Tydeus, like the word tide combined with Deus ex Machina, because when I got him I was going through a hard time and he brought lots of joy into my life. He is a little over a year old, and is a Western Painted Turtle. His carapace measures about 3.5-4 inches. He currently lives in a 35g setup with a sponge filter for a 60g tank, and proper lighting. He is very healthy and friendly, thought he doesn't like eating his vegetables most days. I feed him on varied turtle pellets, mealworms and crickets, varied greens, and occasional fruits such as strawberries and blueberries. Is a very voracious eater, and has no trouble with eating.
He is extremely friendly and social, he knows his name and enjoys being gently pet on his shell. Every time someone walks past his tank he always stops whatever he's doing to come to the edge and greet them.
He is so absolutely perfect and I feel terrible that I need to rehome him as he is my responsibility and I was the one who wrongly took him from the wild.
I'm just struggling to care for him with all the work of highschool, and I'm worried I wouldn't find an apartment that allows aquatic turtles when I go to college. I am a reptie keeper, I have a leopard gecko, I've had a two other rescue geckos, a toad, and a multitude of inverts along with them. I know how to care for him, I'm not in the position to give him the care he deserves.
He's aquatic, and this is my first time keeping an aquatic animal, and due to the fact I found him on spring break, and summer break came relatively quickly, I was able to keep up with water changes and tank cleanings.
I thought because I balanced my other reptiles with school, I could with him too. Over the winter I realized I was wrong. Keeping up with school work, water changes, and prepping for college, alongside giving him the enrichment and socialization he deserves was just too much for me.
He doesn't get water changes as often as he needs, and he rarely comes out to explore and get natural UVB rays. I feel terrible and I know how irresponsible this is, but he deserves to have a good home and life even thought I'm a stupid human who can't give it to him.
Because of this I need him to go to a good home. He has such a big personality and deserves the whole wide world. I won't charge any fees for him, because it's my fault he needs a new place to go, and I'm happy to provide some financial support- as much as I can without a job.
I just want him to have a good life, and I feel I'm not the right fit for him in this stage of my life, I just want to try and take responsibility for my prior mistakes and ensure I can give him everything he deserves.
I live in the Lenexa, Kansas area and an happy to make a short drive or to ship him (as long as the weather permits it)
Thanks for reading my long post- sorry again that my mistakes lead to this.

I'm a big collector you see, I love jars.
I love searching for every kind wide and far.
However, the jars must never be empty, never.
They must contain a piece of my victims to hold forever.
Hair, eyes, noses, lips, teeth, all the parts.
I find my collection to be a delicate art.
One day I went to check my collection but alas.
The jars were all smashed, nothing left but broken glass.
A dry heave formed suddenly behind me.
I turn to see the pieces of my past abductees.
Combined together to form one vile creature.
It stood there twitching, such a heavy breather.
It inched towards me as I fell to the ground.
It held me down until I was bound.
It ate me up until my body was all gone.
Then seperated back into the jars, me in every single one.

The lock on my door isn't working so well because the spring inside is weak from age. I don't need to replace the lock just the spring.
It's an inch long by 1/2" wide.
Thanks so much!

About me:
I'm 34, 5'10, average build (turned into skinny build and now it's slowly becoming fit build), olive skin, hairy chest, bearded (sometimes longer, sometimes clean shaven, currently - trimmed), glasses, nerdy, and in my own opinion, quite cute and attractive!
Careeeducation wise - I'm educated - I have an undergrad and a graduate degree. I just got an offer to work at a big company and am really excited about it! I've also started my own little companies in the past, just some small ideas I try to work on and develop in my spare time. I can go on and on about career and my ventures into entrepreneurship, and will gladly talk at length about them if this stuff interests you! Have you ever started something/wanted to start something? Tell me about it!
Outside of work and entrepreneurship, I am a big media buff. Movies, music, video games, tv shows, books, I'll consume any media that's good. Being a big nerd, I tend to lean towards fantasy, and sci fi over most other genres, but I seriously love anything good (rom coms are my guilty pleasure). Currently watching: caught up with Succession just in time for the finale, and watching some new release movies on my list (Shazam 2, Antman 3, Sisu, The Whale, etc.). Currently reading: just finished Tress and The Emerald Sea! It was sooo good, I really enjoyed it. Currently playing: Some League of Legends, some Magic the Gathering Arena, I picked up the new Zelda game but haven't started it yet.
I build my own computers, I'm a big tech nerd, I'm into high fashion, cooking, exercise, hiking, I enjoy travelling, but I am definitely on the introverted side, and as much as going out on the town sounds nice, I usually prefer a quiet night in as I'm a homebody. I just finished a remodel too and my place is almoooooost all done. I am still missing a main fridge for now haha.
Though I describe myself as an introvert and homebody, I do love to go out and do things, they're just my second choice to staying home and chilling with warm drink (or chilled whisky), soft music, and a fire in the hearth. I can be happy in most any setting from a black tie event to just talk a walk in a park or something, though for more formal events I do prefer a big heads up.
Sexually, I'm into lots and can be quite kinky, but my kinks generally mirror my partner's. If it's something you're genuinely into, I'll be into it as well, no matter how tame or extreme it may seem. My only limits are permanent damage and other partners. I mention this early on because, while I think it's important to build up trust and comfort with someone before really diving into this topic, it's also important to me so I don't want to waste anyone's time if this is an incompatibility off the bat. So, since this is pretty important to me, I would like any future partners to either be fairly kinky, eagerly curious, and pretty experimental in the bedroom. I don't care if you fall on the more dominant side, the more submissive side, something in-between, that matters less to me than the open mindedness and being open to experimentation. We don't have to talk about details until we're both comfortable, but knowing very, very roughly where you fall is important to know.
I believe being open minded, both sexually and not, is an amazing quality, so I try to always be open minded and try most anything - food, sex, random experiences - at least twice before writing it off.
What I'm looking:
You know that question dating apps ask where it has you ask a friend to describe yourself? Well a friend and I once swapped descriptions for each other, and I have to say, his for me is spot on:
"Goal oriented and driven. Endearingly snobby. Board room outside - game hall inside."
It is me really close to a T. A good time to probably mention I am pretty bougie and snobby about things I enjoy/care about, but that's just me really. I like things to be the best they can, and I strive for the absolute best things and experiences in life. It's all about how I like to experience life, and I don't really care or shame others about how they want to spend their money or experience life/things.
To that end, I've had a hard time finding a well educated woman, who is fun and easy going, leaning more towards type A, and also enjoys the finer things in life and seeks that sort of lifestyle. I've definitely lived very low in my life, and a few times very high, but usually my experiences are solidly in the middle. I am personally pushing myself for more, and to live a bigger life, and I want a partner that is very ambitious and wants those goals for herself (and her future partner) as well. Being a nerd isn't required but a huge bonus.
Side note, I'm always baffled to hear about really high achieving women that have a hard time dating because of insecurities of other guys, or some weird attempt to hold on to really outdated social norms. Those women sound so dreamy to someone like me!
I'm looking for something serious, and long term, though I don't like to put tons of pressure on things and enjoy a natural progression, so I prefer to move at a pace we're both comfortable with (however fast or slow that may be) - I really just want to get to know each other. That being said, if I'm into someone, I love to chat with them (I'm a big texter), and really just enjoy as much of their company as I can get.
The reason I'm posting to reddit is that, it's been very hard to find the kind of woman I think I can truly build something serious and long lasting with. I've been dating here and there over the past couple of years, and have yet to encounter someone who is good for me, and I, good for her.
In terms of distance, I prefer someone near me or someone already moving nearby (Washington, DC area), within a few months. And in terms of age, even though I know I'm on r4r30+, I'd prefer someone younger than me, so 33 and under.
I'd love to say more, but this is already long enough! This should give you an idea of the kind of guy I am and what I'm looking for. I think about things a lot, I put a lot of effort into my work, my leisures, and my relationships. So, want to be part of a type A power couple in the streets, bites and bruises in the sheets with me?
Happy to chat on most any platform you prefer! Thanks for reading this all, it means a lot! I hope to hear from you~~

This year’s arena was known as the Everglades. It was a swamp environment spanning four kilometers, making this slightly smaller than the vast savannah of the previous games. The arena was littered with tall mossy trees thin enough for tributes to climb. The high density of the trees along with the thick canopy of foliage above trapped a lot of heat within. There was some debate regarding the amount of water to be pumped in the arena. Due to Head Gamemaker’s preconceived ideas on the mutts and arena events, the crystal-clear swamp water that encompassed 80% of the arena was 15ft at its deepest. There were patches of raised grassland scattered throughout the arena, giving tributes a few areas of relief from the deep waters. The cornucopia stood in the center of a small clearing with the podiums in a semicircle near the southern perimeter. The depth of the water was ankle height, the gamemakers not wanting to hinder the tribute’s movements for the bloodbath. There were a decent number of supplies, however all food and non-weaponous supplies were stored in dark green waterproof bags floating in the puddles. Traditional Hunger Games weapons were also seen floating in the puddles and propped inside the small cornucopia structure.
When the podiums rose out of the arena, tributes felt the humid heat weigh down on them. A few tributes were relieved by the aquatic setting, especially the District 4 tributes. Pearl was wedged between Laurel (7) and Logan (11). She felt intimidated by Laurel’s muscles and decided to ignore her in favour of scanning for escape routes. After pinpointing two routes with more tree cover, she scanned the lineup for Mortimer. She spotted him between Wren (5) and Jack. He noticed Jack and gave him a greeting. Jack asked if it was true Tobias Stephens was dead, him nodding in response. Mortimer said “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave you alone for now. Just out of respect for Tobias and for helping deliver the weed to me.” Jack thanked him before searching for Cat. Cat was found standing between Nikita (2) and Neutron (12). Nikita tried to intimidate her, but she brushed it aside. She spotted Mortimer and Jack conversing, pleased it wasn’t confrontational. Mortimer spotted her and she waved to him. He stared at her for a moment before turning his eyes to the cornucopia. She looked at the cornucopia as well, aiming her sights on one of the bigger waterproof bags.
When the gong sounded, Cat sprinted forward towards the bag she set her eyes on. Nikita attempted to tackle her to the ground, but Cat was quick enough to somersault out of the way. She frantically searched for a way out, choosing to run northwest away from the careers. However, she spotted Pearl fighting Mishti (10) for a bag. Mishti was successful at obtaining the bag and pushed Pearl to the ground before grabbing a knife nearby. Cat bolted towards the two girls, hopping over the fallen Burlap (8)’s body. Before Mishti could strike Pearl with her knife, Cat tackled her to the ground. Cat pushed Mishti’s face under the ankle high water and used her knee to keep her head down. She wrenched the knife and pushed the blade into the back of her skull. She looked up to see Pearl already gone. She turned to see a sword propped against the cornucopia wall and decided to risk it.
Meanwhile, Jack hopped off his podium but was swept off his feet by the slippery mud. He frantically pulled himself up, but was relieved that all the nearby tributes were completely ignoring him. He witnessed the first death of the games when Andrei (2) stomped on Terry (5)’s neck, snapping it in an odd angle. He ran alongside the podiums to steer clear of the ongoing chaos all the while searching for Cat. He managed to spot her closing in on a sword. He ran towards her, unaware of an arrow courtesy of Jassy (12) narrowly missing his head. As he neared Cat, he noticed Logan (11) creeping closer to her with a heavy axe in hand. He yelled at Cat to look out, but she didn’t hear. Logan raised his axe at the unaware Cat. Jack jumped forward and pushed Cat out of the line of fire. The axe lodged itself into Jack’s head, sending him falling to the ground. Cat was horrified upon seeing her partner brutally killed in front of her. She decided she let his sacrifice not be in vain and retreated from the clearing with a bag and sword in hand.
Mortimer was one of the first to reach the cornucopia. He snatched a trident from the back of the cornucopia structure. He turned to exit the building only to come face to face with Laurel (7). She had an axe in her hand and voiced her intentions of killing him for her partner Wolvthorne (7). Mortimer warned her to get out of his way, but she charged forwards. Mortimer used his trident to catch her first swipe, pushing her backwards. He swung the trident, cutting Laurel’s face. She was unperturbed and tried striking him. This time, he dodged and thrust the end of his trident in her ribs. He used her brief moment of painful staggering to stab her in the head. He flung her body to the side like a ragdoll and ran back outside. He noticed two bags close together and decided to risk grabbing them. He scooped up both bags with his trident, with one hanging on each side before retreating. He fell to the ground after tripping over the corpse of Shoya (3). As he pulled himself up, he noticed Pearl hiding behind a tree beckoning him to follow her. As he ran, he heard Wolvthorne’s roars of anger after discovering his partner dead. So angry in fact that he managed to disembowel and kill Nikita (2) before escaping east.
When the bloodbath was over, Artemis and Luther followed the order of events. Artemis enjoyed this bloodbath as not only did they have a couple gory kills, but some rare moments of honor. Luther listed Terry (5) as the first death at the hands of Andrei (2), comparing it to the first kill of the 12th Hunger Games when Sparta (D2 female tribute) curb stomped Fleming (D6 male tribute). Cameras then spotted Burlap (8) stabbed in the eye by Olivine (1), making him the second death. On the opposite side was Shoya (3), whose throat was slit by Lionel (1). The next chronological death was Mishti (10), with Artemis wondering why Cat saved Pearl. Luther speculated that they were probably in an alliance. The fifth death was Laurel (7). Artemis felt bummed out to not see more of her as she seemed like victor material. The sixth and seventh deaths took place almost simultaneously. Number six was Neutron (12) after he was stabbed numerous times by Andrei (2). Two seconds afterwards was the death of Jack. Artemis declared his death as honorable and as a redemption from his disastrous interview. The last two kills of this year’s bloodbath were Ryetta (9) and Nikita (2). Ryetta was killed by Lionel when she jumped on his back and tried to gouge his eyes out. Lionel wrenched her off by the hair and bashed her head into the cornucopia structure. Artemis then moved to Nikita’s death and described Wolvthorne as savage. Luther wrapped the bloodbath analysis up and announced nine bloodbath kills, two more than the previous year.
Cat continued to create distance from the clearing. She followed as much grassland as possible, having to wade through the water at a few points. Suddenly, she came across a wide expanse of water with no land in sight. She slipped on a loose twig and fell to the ground at the edge of this lake. Her backpack spilled its contents upon impact, its contents consisting of a sandwich, four fruit packs, a pocket knife, a bottle of water, string, and a small medkit. The thoughts of losing the items she fought so hard for sent her in a panic. She reached out and tried to gather as much as she could. However, she failed to save the sandwich, the knife, and three of the fruit packets as they all sank below its depths.
After saving the rest of her items, she realized her hyperventilating continued. She crossed her legs and put her supplies to the side. The confused viewers in Maximus Square watched as she took deep methodical breaths while moving her arms up and down. They began to realize she was meditating in order to compose herself. Viewers watched as the gamemakers displayed her heart rate and the number slowly decrease. Soon, Cat was able to compose herself. She decided to inspect her remaining supplies, keeping her sword by her side. She opened the medkit and was disappointed by the lack of quantity. It consisted of one roll of medical tape, two bandages, and strangely a wax bottle of clear liquid. She inspected the label, which revealed the contents to be hydrogen peroxide. She took note of this and pocketed the medkit, string, and the one fruit pack.
Cat lastly picked up the water bottle and realized it to be empty. She internally debated collecting water from the lake in front of her. She cautiously dipped a couple fingers in the lake and then tasted the droplets on her fingertips. Tasting nothing out of sorts, she picked up her water bottle. She was interrupted by the mandatory cannons, signaling the end of the bloodbath. Cat quickly scanned her surroundings while carefully listening for tributes. After hearing nothing, she turned back to the water and felt her heart drop. The once clear water had now become cloudy and murky. Cat became dejected, knowing she couldn’t trust the water anymore. She let tears fall from her eyes for a few moments, mourning her dreadful situation. Artemis was about to tease her crying, when she was interrupted by Cat slapping herself in the face. Cat told herself aloud that she had to get it together and plan her next move. She continued to scan the lake and her surroundings. She noticed a near consistent path of grassland heading west around the lake. She decided to head that direction, whispering to herself that “sailor boy” was sure to head that direction. She packed her things and started her journey west along the lake’s borders, with her sword at the ready.
Back in the commentator’s booth, Artemis noted her determination to find the District 4 tributes, speculating whether she had a crush on Mortimer. Luther diverted the topic to the lake. He educated the audience on the layout of the lake, showing through schematics that it spanned at least 35% of the entire arena. At the end of the lake was a thick accumulation of trees and brush the cameras refused to go past. When he and Artemis questioned Head Gamemaker Grimstone, he told them there was a hidden surprise on the possibility a tribute figures out a way across.
The two hosts began checking tabs on the surviving tributes. Olivine and Lionel (1) had split from the clearing and were in the south eastern sector. They watched from the safety of a couple trees as Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) gathered supplies at the cornucopia. Surprisingly, Andrei was indifferent to his new ally having killed Nikita. The two debated their next move, Wolvthorne desiring to find Mortimer for revenge. Andrei admitted that while he was their biggest threat, he would have to put his grievances aside for them to survive the arena. Cameras diverted their attention to Carnelia and Logan (11) as they neared the southeastern perimeter. In close proximity was Horace (10) who was stalking them, using the trees and small mud banks as cover. Vista (3) had climbed up a tree and rested there. Wren (5) had struck up an alliance with Jassy (12) when the two crossed paths in the centre of the arena. Peggy (8) reached the northern perimeter and planted roots at the shore of the lake. John (9) had retreated west and was camouflaging himself with mud. He was nearly seen by Cat minutes into her trek west, but decided against confronting her upon seeing her sword. Artemis urged Luther to point the cameras to the District 4 tributes, which he obliged.
Mortimer had successfully distanced himself from the cornucopia. Cameras captured him diverting the supplies from one of his two backpacks into the other, discarding the empty one in the mud. It was around this time when the cannons sounded. The combined supplies included an empty water bottle, three fruit packs, a sandwich, a bundle of sturdy rope, a sleeping bag, and a small cooking pot. He was half a kilometre away from the lake’s southwest shore when he stopped walking. He turned around and asked the forest if hiding from him was really necessary. Pearl stepped out from behind a tree, asking how he knew she was there. He claimed that he spotted her dirty blonde hair poking out. He asked why she was hiding from him. Pearl asked if he was going to kill her. Mortimer was confused by this and questioned why he would kill her. Pearl defended herself by pointing out how much he hated accepting help from others and thought he would go lone wolf. Mortimer rolled his eyes, muttering “This again” under his breath. He put his right hand up and solemnly swore he wouldn’t kill her, for Gill’s sake. Pearl cautiously stepped out and thanked him. He asked what she had in her bag. She showed her contents, seeing a rain poncho, a water bottle, two apples, and a flint and steel.
Mortimer revealed his contents as well, noting the emptiness of the bottles. He suggested they continue going west, but Pearl pointed at a tall tree nearby. She said she would climb it and get a good vantage point. Mortimer didn’t object as she marched over to the tree and began climbing. While she was climbing higher, cameras noticed how antsy Mortimer was. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis said it appeared as if he was tempted to ditch her. Luther agreed with her observation, but didn’t believe he would just yet. Pearl reached seven metres in height and began surveying the arena. She reported to Mortimer that everything looked the same until she looked northwest and spotted the lake. Mortimer declared they would go there. She agreed and the two began their journey.
Out of nowhere, Pearl asked if he had anything against her father Alexander Riverstone. Mortimer claimed he didn’t and thought he was an honest working man. She retorted by asking for his reason to not accept his or anyone else’s help. Mortimer became annoyed by hearing this question for the umpteenth time, but Pearl insisted he explain. She already heard the story from Gill and wanted to hear his perspective, explaining, “After years of waitressing and hearing all the gossip, I’ve learned there is always another side.” Mortimer sighed and admitted he should’ve accepted his and Gill’s help as they had no gain in doublecrossing him. He cited his mother’s abandonment and the resulting playground bullying as the cornerstone reasons for him not trusting others. Pearl asked how old his mother was when she left, him answering six. Viewers weren’t aware of this detail and felt bad for him.
Before Pearl could press for more, the two had arrived at the lake. They noticed the murkiness of the water and surmised that it was unsafe to drink. Mortimer wondered how it was murky when it was crystal clear earlier. Pearl said she noticed the water became cloudy the second the cannons sounded, deducing that the water will become much more unsafe to drink as the death toll increases. The commentators and gamemakers were impressed with her accurate deduction but pointed out it was Jassy (12) who discovered it first though in a joking manner. Pearl however was more curious about the smell, comparing it to the sewage port at the Cardiff Cliffs. Mortimer agreed and pondered over what to do next.
Pearl climbed up another tree and spotted the stretching shoreline. Mortimer hypothesised how due to the unnatural shape and location of the lake, along with recent Hunger Games trends, there could be something in the northwestern sector on the other side. Pearl sarcastically commented, “Add a boat to the list of things we desperately need.” Mortimer’s eyes lit up and said, “Why not make our own?”, pointing out how they could construct a raft out of the sturdier trees and tie them together with rope, adding that being on the lake would keep them far from other tributes. Pearl admitted it was a good plan, but considered water as the utmost priority. When asked to test the water, Pearl gagged on the taste. Mortimer pulled out his pot and gave it to Pearl, telling her to start a fire.
Around the time Mortimer started his raft project, Cat was taking a break from all the trudging through the damp grassland. She held her only fruit pack in her fingertips and stared at it for several minutes. Viewers could tell she was speculating on whether or not to eat it. She decided against it and put it back in her backpack. She watched the still lake while licking her cracked lips to keep them moist. She dipped two of her fingers into the cloudy water and tasted the droplets. She instantly gagged and spit them out, using her sleeve to wipe her mouth. She then broke off a button from the backpack and stuck it in her mouth. Luther seemed impressed by this, educating the audience on this unique practice of preventing dry mouth.
Cat decided her break was over and stood up with supplies in tow. Suddenly, she heard voices coming from behind her. She listened carefully and recognized the voice of Olivine and Lionel (1). Cameras showed the two bypassing Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) after the two journeyed north to hunt for tributes. While raiding the cornucopia, Olivine played with a pair of binoculars and spotted Pearl in the tree. The two decided to go after her. Cat frantically searched for a place to hide. There were no nearby upright trees and she didn’t have enough time to camouflage herself in the mud. So, in desperation, she burrowed her backpack in the mudbank and waded herself into the lake. Cat ducked her head underwater just in time for Olivine and Lionel to reveal themselves. Many viewers in Maximus Square were at the edge of their seats as the two careers initially began walking past Cat’s location. The situation was filled with more tension when the two stopped before moving out of sight. The two discussed their plan of confronting Pearl, knowing Mortimer is most likely with her. Lionel assured her that the two could take him together. Underwater cameras captured Cat’s face as she struggled to hold her breath. Based on the quality of the cameras’ footage, it appeared that Cat was able to overhear their conversation. Just when it looked like Cat was about to give up, the two careers finally resumed their journey west.
Cat thrust herself out of the water, taking in deep breaths. Supporters of Cat in Maximus Square breathed out in relief as well. Cat dragged herself to shore and flipped herself on her back. She laid there for a few moments catching her breath and wiping the mud off her face. When she held her arm up, she noticed a black spot on her forearm. She grabbed it, pulled it off, and turned it towards her. She instantly recognized it from its sucker and rows of teeth, straight from her studies in the fauna sector in the aquatic station. It was a black worm leech, a relatively new species introduced to the world through the crossbreeding of the European medicinal leech and the terrestrial leech. Cat’s face morphed into one of pure disgust and fright. It took all her inner strength not to scream when she looked down and counted eleven leeches on her legs and forearms. She shakily ripped the leeches off her body one by one, lip quivering as she did so. She tossed the leeches aside and crab-walked away from the shore.
Cat sat on a log for almost an hour, traumatized by the experience. After composing herself, she grabbed her backpack and was about to leave when she recalled Olivine and Lionel’s plan. Realizing Pearl and Mortimer were in danger, she pulled out her empty water bottle. Capital viewers were confused at first, expecting her to “run for the hills”. Their confusion turned to interest as Cat scooped up the leeches and put them inside her bottle along with some of the lakewater. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis was holding herself, cringing at the sight of the leeches. She wondered why Cat would pick them back up. Luther guessed she would use them either to help her allies or food, noting that the leeches were edible. Artemis squealed at the thought. As Cat was about to start moving again, a cannon sounded. It was revealed to be Vista (3) after she climbed down from her tree and decided to bathe in the river. She was also overtaken by leeches and screamed very loudly at the sight of them. Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) heard her screams and found her writhing on the ground swiping at the leeches on her body. Andrei ended her suffering by plunging his sword into her head.
Two hours passed by without incident. Capital viewers still had some nuggets of tribute activity to entertain them. Carnelia and Logan (11) had successfully captured a handful of leeches and were attempting to cook them. Their stalker Horace (10) watched from nearby. The biggest area of interest was with the District 4 tributes and the approaching careers increasing the suspense in Maximus Square. While Mortimer was beginning the construction of the raft, Pearl boiled some water in the pot. She noticed her partner testing his rope on the logs he acquired and showing disappointment with it not being enough to secure the full measurements.
While the water boiled, Pearl gathered the moss growing off the trees and weaved some twine together. She tossed the twine to Mortimer and told him to test it out. She rolled her eyes at the look of skepticism on his face. She challenged him by asking why he was skeptical over some twine. Mortimer claimed he wasn’t suspicious of any malintent but was wondering why she would make it for him. Pearl simply stated, “We’re partners aren’t we?” Mortimer thanked her and tested the twine. He was satisfied with its durability and asked if she could make more. Pearl beckoned him to come to the fire. He walked over and was perplexed by the sight before him. The water still resembled the murky lake water. Pearl claimed she left the water to boil for ten minutes. Mortimer stuck his fingers taste tested it and spat it out in disgust. He said it wasn’t as bad tasting as the lakewater, but was still unsafe to drink. Frustrated, he went back to his raft while Pearl resumed making twine.
The two were unaware that Olivine and Lionel (1) were very close by and were able to pinpoint their location after hearing them talking. Lionel stepped forward and peeked his head behind a tree, ready to approach the unsuspecting Pearl. Pearl lifted her head to wipe the sweat off her face and was horrified to see him towering over her. She screamed at the top of her lungs and sprinted off not a second later. Lionel chased after her and swung his sword down toward her. Pearl shut her eyes preparing for the end, but only heard a single metallic thud. She opened her eyes to see the sword blocked by Mortimer’s trident.
Mortimer barked at Pearl to get behind him and she obeyed. Olivine made herself known brandishing a sword as well, having failed to secure a bow in the bloodbath. The arena and Maximus Square were quiet as the tributes slowly circled each other, Mortimer and Pearl taking measures to not be surrounded by their adversaries. Mortimer tried to make Olivine the closer enemy, knowing she was not nearly as experienced with a sword as Lionel. What he didn't know was she still had decent skills with the sword due to it being her "secondary weapon" that she decided to hide during training. Lionel swung first once again, his blade being caught by the trident. Olivine stepped in to strike while Mortimer was distracted. However, he spotted her and smacked her across the face with the back of the handle. She fell back into the water but before he could take advantage, Lionel went back on the offence.
The next three minutes kept the Capital at the edge of their seat. The two were evenly matched and trapped in a cycle of attack, block, and retaliation all while Pearl watched on, frozen to her spot. Lionel got his sword caught in the trident for the eighth time, but surprised everyone by twisting the blade downwards, pushing the prongs down and exposing Mortimer’s head. Lionel kept twisting in hopes Mortimer would drop his weapon, but he persisted. Just when it seemed like Mortimer was about to give up, he headbutted Lionel, dazing him long enough to free his weapon. Then in a swift motion, Mortimer thrust his trident up Lionel’s chin into his brain, sounding his cannon instantly.
Mortimer couldn’t celebrate for long as he heard Olivine charging towards him. She sliced at him in a frenzy, managing to cut his right eyebrow. She used this distraction to punch him in the face. Mortimer stumbled back a few inches, surprised by the power in her punch. Olivine brought her sword up high, ready to strike him down. Mortimer gave her a powerful uppercut, sending Olivine back three feet. The punch caused her to bite through her tongue, it falling to the ground. Olivine moaned in muffled agony at the sight of it on the floor as her mouth filled with blood. Mortimer thrust the trident in her chest. Suddenly, someone came rushing into the small clearing. It was Cat, having finally arrived to help Mortimer. She paused at the carnage laid before her and put her sword down. She said, “Guess you didn’t need help then.” Olivine’s cannon sounded seconds later.
The viewers in Maximus Square went crazy, cheering for Mortimer’s triumphant victory. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis and Luther were buzzing as well, the latter declaring this as one of the greatest fight sequences in the history of the Hunger Games. Historic documents reflected that sentiment as well. The cheering quickly died down, waiting to see his reaction to Cat’s sudden arrival. Mortimer furrowed his brows and backed her into a tree, saying, “You! You’ve been following us?!” Cat put her hands up and apologized for scaring him. She asked to at least explain herself. Pearl came to her defense and pleaded with him to hear her out. Mortimer relented and told her to spill.
Cat regaled her experiences so far, revealing the leeches’ existence and how she found them. Pearl rummaged through her things and pulled out the water bottle, but Cat warned her about the leeches inside. Pearl looked inside and identified the species, revealing they were edible. She walked towards the fire with the bottle. Cat turned back to Mortimer and told him, “I know you are reluctant to trust me, especially considering where we are. But seeing that I helped you with your training score and have something valuable to share, I think you need me as an ally.” Back in the Capital, Artemis said she admired Cat’s guts while Luther expressed interest in the dynamic they’re about to see, confident Mortimer would say yes. Mortimer looked back at Pearl inspecting the leeches, then the open backpack. He relented and accepted her invitation into the group, but warned he would end her if she did anything remotely bad.
Mortimer invited her to sit down by the campsite and go over what they learned. The small fire burnt out and Pearl was trying and failing to reignite it. Cat finally picked up on the rotten egg smell emanating throughout the arena. Mortimer noticed as well, claiming it was worse than before. Pearl asked if they noticed how it became worse the minute the careers died. The two were silent and realised she was right. Pearl speculated that not only will the water be rendered more undrinkable each death, but the smell will get worse. Cat compared the smell to the piles of feces left in Willard Alleyway by warmweed addicts and alcoholics. Mortimer suddenly had an epiphany. He realized that the rotten egg smell meant traces of flammable sulphur were present. Cat suggested they search for the source of the smell before it gets dark. The three fanned out. The search for the rotten smell garnered some moments of comedy. Viewers were laughing at the tributes picking up random objects and bringing them to their faces, left in tears at their disgusted facial expressions. It was ultimately Pearl who discovered the source, having explored the lake shore and found the source to be green algae barely touching the surface. She held her breath while collecting some and handing it to Mortimer. He wringed it off as much water as possible before shooting sparks at it with the flint and steel. After several tries, the algae ignited.
A fire was successfully crafted, and the trio resumed boiling the water. Cat speculated why boiling it wasn’t enough, recalling how it worked for Corpse Beckford in the 10th Hunger Games. Pearl suddenly squealed and stood up. One of the leeches escaped the bottle and began squirming on the ground. Mortimer picked it up and examined the creature. He noticed how sticky his fingertips were, his facing morphing into what Artemis coined as the “thinking face”. Mortimer used the tip of his trident to scrape some of the slime and thrust it into the pot. Cat was about to protest, but Mortimer recalled the species of leech and that it resided in the Rocky Shores neighborhood. He explained how the poorer citizens of District 4 would use the slime of discarded leeches to better purify dirty water. Cat commended him for noticing this and offered to ration the food for dinner. Pearl continued to create twine for the raft, but cameras noticed her constantly watching the nearby trees.
The sun was nearly out of sight and the water was still not fully purified. Mortimer was frustrated that the slime wasn’t enough. Cat told him to calm down and assured him they would figure it out. Pearl was still making twine for the raft when she cut herself with a tiny splinter entangled in the moss. Cat grabbed the first aid kit to bandage the wound before it became infected. Mortimer commented how he wasn’t aware therapists needed to know first aid. Cat responded, “Well, in a district full of addicts, you get a lot of practice.” Pearl asked her why she wanted to be a therapist like Phoebe. Cat explained how she used to be one of the young “zombies” hanging out in Willard Alleyway experimenting with new batches of warmweed. One day when she was thirteen, she had a respiratory attack. Her supposed friends were indifferent to her predicament and fled when Phoebe and peacekeeper escorts walked by. Phoebe spotted her, brought her to the hospital, and took care of her. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis was curious as to why she was dredging up traumatic experiences so nonchalantly. Luther guessed she truly moved past it and told her to keep listening. Cat further described a long conversation she had with Phoebe and how much it changed her life. After that, Cat strongly desired to get clean and was successful after nine arduous months. This was the part where Cat began to feel emotional. Cat explained that she wanted to help others get clean the same way she did, so no more kids are left to die in alleyways. She then revealed that when her mother died of an overdose, it was enough to convince her brother to get clean as well after years of begging. After years of dealing with erratic addicts, she claimed that no one scared her anymore, not even Mortimer. Mortimer apologised for being cross with her before, receiving an accepting smile in return.
While Cat bandaged Pearl’s wound, Mortimer noticed the small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He examined it and put some droplets in the water. Suddenly, the cloudy substance in the water completely cleared. The three stared in amazement. Pearl asked who would test it first. Mortimer looked at Cat, who annoyedly said, “Fine I’ll do it.” She took a sip and said it tasted like water. After a few moments of no effect, Cat congratulated Mortimer for successfully purifying the water. Mortimer seemed really proud of himself. Suddenly, two sponsor gifts fell from the sky, one with a 4 and one with a 6. The D4 gift contained a mini chemistry kit with droppers, tiny bowls, and vials. A note attached read “I told you friends are the best - G”. The D6 bag contained a picnic of sandwiches and fruit. Pearl was ready to dig in, but Cat insisted they rest as the sun had fully set. Mortimer appeared disappointed, but admitted she was right. He volunteered to take first watch, blushing when Cat claimed he did so just to play with his new set. The two rested while Mortimer got to work purifying more water with his new kit. The portraits of the fallen were presented in the sky. The fallen included Olivine and Lionel (1), Nikita (2), Vista and Shoya (3), Terry (5), Jack (6), Laurel (7), Burlap (8), Ryetta (9), Mishti (10), and Neutron (12). This left 12 tributes remaining.

SS:
1 Thessalonians 5:6: "So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober."
“Sleeping is giving in, No matter what the time is. Sleeping is giving in, So lift those heavy eyelids. People say that you'll die Faster than without water. But we know it's just a lie, Scare your sons and scare your daughter.” –Arcade Fire
1 Peter 5:8: "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."
Revelation 3:2: "Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God."
“I wish I could take the pain away If you can make it through the night, there's a brighter day Everything will be alright if you hold on It's a struggle every day, gotta roll on” –Tupac
Isaiah 52:1: "Awake, awake, put on your strength."
"I can't sleep, the clowns will eat me." –The Simpsons
"I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death." –Nas
"The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep! You must ask for what you really want. Don't go back to sleep! People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don't go back to sleep!" –Rumi
Proverbs 6:9-11: “How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep? A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest — and poverty will come on you like a bandit and scarcity like an armed man.”
"Ooh, I'm thinking we should stay in tonight Get lost in the Pacific, paradise Is it only two of us? Yeah, I think I like that I'm staying up all night, oh yeah, yeah" –Charlie Puth
“Up all night, yeah, all night long; We can make the world right, yeah, we can make it strong” –Sia
“Well, I argued all night like so many have before Saying, "Whatever you give me, I seem to need so much more" Then she pointed at me where I kneeled on her floor She said, "Don't try to use me or slyly refuse me Just win me or lose me, it is this that the darkness is for" I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old The stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold" "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored" So I walked through the morning, sweet early morning I could hear my lady calling, "You've won me, you've won me, my Lord" –Leonard Cohen
"This is why Why we fight, why we lie awake And this is why This is why we fight" –The Decemberists
“I'm young and I'm falling in love With the night I'm not tired, let's just ride” –Charli Adams
“Oh, I'm near to sleeping, I'm keeping awake It's tomorrow, yes it is” –Innocence Mission
“I know it's comfortable to go back to sleep Take a look at what you've been lying in Before you wake up in search of your paycheck death The demons of regret are making your deathbed” –Rocky Votolato
1 Thessalonians 5:6 so then let us not sleep as others do, but let us be alert and sober.
“Yes, the sidewalk soon will launch you Into Brooklyn, through the air And they will give a cheer, I am sure When you are coming near To the ground Oh, early in the morning When you fly away” –Innocence Mission
“No sleep No Sleep till Brooklyn” –Beastie Boys
"No sleep, no sleep until I'm done with finding the answer." –Linkin Park
Matthew 26:41: "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Mark 13:33: "Be on guard, keep awake. For you do not know when the time will come."
“Those in the know say how it goes You plan on reapin' you better sow You plan on sleepin' you better keep movin' Sleepin' ain't allowed around here you know” –Townes Van Zandt
Ephesians 5:14: "For anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, 'Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.'"
"Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them." –Edgar Allan Poe
“Smokin' weed like it ain't no thing, so even kids Wanna try now, then lie down and get ran through Nobody watches 'em, clockin' the evil man do Faced with the demons, addicted to hearin' victims screamin'” –Tupac
"Awake! Awake O sleeper of the land of shadows, wake! Expand! I am in you and you in me, mutual in love divine." –William Blake
"Sleep is the most moronic fraternity in the world, with the heaviest dues and the crudest rituals." –Vladimir Nabokov
“I haven't eaten a bite Or slept for three days and nights That's how I got to Memphis” –Tom T. Jones
"Insomnia is my greatest inspiration." –Jon Stewart
"I'm up all night to get lucky." –Daft Punk
“Whatever gets you through the night It's all right, it's all right” –John Lennon
Surah Al-Imran (3:113): "They are not [all] the same; among the People of the Scripture is a community standing [in obedience], reciting the verses of Allah during periods of the night and prostrating [in prayer]."
Surah Al-Zumar (39:9): "Devoutly obedient during periods of the night, prostrating and standing [in prayer], fearing the Hereafter and hoping for the mercy of his Lord."
"Don't close your eyes, you might miss the show." –Aerosmith
“In the night forlorn the morning's born And the morning shines with the lights of love And you will miss sunrise if you close your eyes And that would break my heart in two” –Townes Van Zandt
“don't close your eyes; don't close your eyes, this is your life” –Switchfoot
“(I'm wide awake) Yeah, I was in the dark I was falling hard With an open heart (I'm wide awake) How did I read the stars so wrong? (I'm wide awake) And now it's clear to me That everything you see Ain't always what it seems (I'm wide awake) Yeah, I was dreaming for so long” –Katy Perry
"I'll sleep when I'm dead." –Warren Zevon –Bon Jovi
"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." –Robert Frost
“Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake with me Just keep on holding on” –Dean Lewis
"I can't sleep, I'm in too deep." –Alan Walker
"Stay awake, don't rest your head. Don't lie down upon your bed. While the moon drifts in the skies, stay awake, don't close your eyes." –Mary Poppins
“I don't wanna sleep, I just wanna Keep On Loving You” –REO Speedwagon
“Sleeping is giving in, No matter what the time is. Sleeping is giving in, So lift those heavy eyelids. People say that you'll die Faster than without water. But we know it's just a lie, Scare your sons and scare your daughter.” –Arcade Fire

Opal stood up with a sigh, grimacing at the pain along her back and arm. She looked down on the man crumpled on the floor. “Sorry Devona. But life’s a bitch.”
“...fuck you,” he mumbled.
Opal’s eyes widened slightly. “Man, he’s one tough cookie. Not much he can do now though.” She pulled the documents out from her bag to verify that they were still there, and then slid them into her jacket. She turned to leave before pausing. Something felt… off. Her eyes scanned the area and she tensed herself. Even with Opal being as alert as she could, she didn’t see the fist coming at her face until it was too late. Her vision spun as her head snapped back, feeling her feet leave the ground as someone slept her legs out from under her. She pushed herself off and jumped to her feet, only to be met with a swift kick waist. She tried to swing her crowbar but a hand wrenched her wrist to the side and a knee slammed into her stomach. She doubled over and felt her lunch struggle to the surface before she was promptly slammed face-first into the wall. She slid down like wet spaghetti onto the floor.
She turned her head to the side to watch the retreating footsteps as she waited for her entire body to stop aching. Devona, if that was his name, was already sitting up, wincing but very much functional despite the blood dribbling down his face. She could see the figure now crouching beside him, doing something with their hands. It took Opal a few seconds to realise that they were signing something.
-you alright?
Devona nodded, rubbing his bruised cheek. “Yeah, I’m fine, Harlow. Don’t worry about me.”
Opal would have sworn out loud, but the pain in her face was making it hard to speak. “Are you kidding me? They sent the damn wolf after these documents too?” Speaking of the documents, why was she after them again? She frowned and rooted around her memories like a child digging in the sand. Right, to sell the information within. Wow, she was scatter-brained. Probably to do with the ringing headache she had.
She had to get away. But with her current situation, a foot race would be a pointless endeavour. All she needed to do was get to her motorcycle parked a few metres away, and she’d be able to depart. She looked over the side of the roof and studied the area. Then she rolled over the side. She grabbed onto the railings by the side and yanked them off, managing to swing herself into a window after skidding down several metres. If she couldn’t outpace Harlow, then she could at least slow them down. She shoved herself to her feet and started to run, the sound of someone scaling the wall already behind her. She shoved desks and cabinets in front of doors as she ran, the only sound she could hear being her own footsteps and bated breath. If she got caught once, if she slowed down for a single second, she’d be headed for the rocks.
She turned the corner and felt that same shiver of anticipation run up her spine. They’d caught up to her, somehow. She readied herself and ducked under but still caught the edge of the hit as Harlow appeared from behind her. She grabbed an oil can and crushed it behind her back, spilling it down onto the floor. They rushed forward anyway, using the momentum to slam into Opal and throw her across the floor. This time it was her scrambling upon the oil to get up, grabbing onto the wall to try to pull herself up. She was instead hoisted up and thrown through the door and onto the clean floor of the corridor where she pushed herself up and began to run again. Something nagged at her but she ignored it, electing to get to the exit as fast as possible.
She finally shoved the door open and ran upon the gravel, finding where her motorcycle was parked. She kicked back the stand and revved the engine, tearing off as fast as she could while weaving for good measure. She relaxed her body once she reached the empty fields of high grass, shooting a final peace sign towards the dwindling buildings. She reached into her jacket and then realised that the documents were not there.
“God. Fucking. Dammit.” That conniving bastard. They’d probably stolen the documents during that final tussle, and the nagging feeling she’d so carelessly discarded was how strange it was that they didn’t continue to chase her. There was enough time to go back, perhaps she could -
There was a massive explosion from one of the buildings, loud enough for the windows on the neighbouring structures to shatter. On second thought, perhaps she’d let this one go.
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Claren soared through the air and slammed against the ground and wall, bouncing around like a handball. He pressed a hand to his head with a groan as he stopped, barely managing to dodge the glaive that slammed into the ground and sent a blast of lightning into the earth. As he looked, he could see that metal had been infused into the bone and flesh that comprised the glaive. Laurel came at him again, swinging her glaive again and again as lightning coursed through her body. Claren blocked her attacks, but he was forced to the defensive, the lightning preventing him from getting close.
He pushed forward nevertheless, grabbing onto the end of Laurel’s glaive as she tried to drive it into his chest. He didn’t know how much longer his shield could keep up, but there was no chance for him to take a moment to recover. He could feel the heat from the electricity scouring the air, not hot enough to injure but hot enough to hurt. His fist connected with Laurel’s face and sent her flying backwards before she launched herself forward with a burst of electricity, sending him slamming through the door and into a hallway. He didn’t have time to test if his bones were broken before she was launching herself into the air, electricity worming around her like a writhing cocoon. Claren rolled to the side to avoid her slamming into the ground, sending shards of concrete everywhere. His thoughts rushed around his head as he jumped to his feet and started the process again.
Claren didn’t have time to consider the ramifications of why her magic was so different to what it had been before. All he had was to try and hold her off for long enough to… what, exactly? Figure out a way to beat her? For backup to arrive? Have the crime lords escape? He almost laughed at that one - internally, of course. He barely laughed out loud. He’d dedicated most of his life to law and order, and here he was: potentially throwing his life away for a bunch of high-end criminals. The thought of it casted a bitter taste in his mouth and he could feel his teeth grit together. The sudden, uncontrollable action startled Claren enough to make him almost freeze up. He’d trained himself for years to hold in anything of that ike, and here he was, in the midst of battle yet unable to compose himself. He smoothed his expression again and hit Laurel across the head with a hook.
“You know,” Laurel managed between breaths while dodging and weaving, “this would be a lot easier if you just stood aside.” Her glaive gave her the advantage in reach, but Claren’s bubble provided him with enough manoeuvrability to get in and out.
“I mean,” she continued, “why bother trying to save people like that? They’re scum, or lower than scum. Just the greedy pigs of the world that managed to get enough money to stay on the top of the bottom.”
It was such a mirror of his own thoughts that he almost, for a second, considered it. He tried his hardest to push her words from his mind and levelled his gaze at her. “I don’t make deals with people like you. Not to mention, you already murdered the English council, so don’t pretend like you’re above them.”
Laurel scoffed. “Please, they were politicians. Barely even people.”
She stomped her feet and a wave of electricity radiated off of her, scorching the ground and furniture around her. She raised her hands and a scent of ash filled the air. Fire suddenly flared into existence all around her, bright and blindingly hot. Claren had to jump forward as he felt himself cooking alive from the fire that rose just a few inches away from him. Laurel opened her palm and a wave of flame erupted from her hand right towards Claren. He expanded his bubble just before it washed over him, keeping the scorching heat away. He rolled to the side and outstretched his hand into a finger gun. His shield was sucked around his hand and onto the tip of his finger, hanging there like a dew drop. It fired off and slammed into Laurel, sending her flying backwards. It shot back and wrapped around Claren just as another wave of fire rushed at him.
He dodged to the side as she swung wildly with her glaive, the blade lit by flame. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his yo-yo. Laurel guffawed as she saw it, her voice revealing the emotion that her mask was hiding.
“A yo-yo? Seriously?”
Claren’s shield flowed over the yo-yo and he lashed out with it, wrapping around Laurel faster than she could register. He swung the yo-yo around and Laurel followed, being slammed all around the wall and floor like a ball attached to a ping-pong paddle. He pulled and she spun like a top as the yo-yo retracted to his hand before crumping to the floor.
“That’s Captain yo-yo to you,” Claren said dryly. The bubble from the yo-yo started to wash over him. It wavered for a second, and then shattered. That was not good. But with Laurel out for the count, he should be able to wait out for his shield to form again.
Laurel stood up. Claren was momentarily taken aback. Someone who was without any physical enhancements should have been taken out by that assault. She stretched her neck and arms.
“Nice trick. Wanna see me do it?” She lashed out with a strand of lightning, faster than Claren could dodge and wrapped it around him. While it was much faster, it barely tickled his skin as it pressed against him. Then the strand of lightning erupted into flames, and Claren could feel his flesh start to bubble. She slammed him all around the room and the world began to blur, his vision flashing white intermittently from the agony of the experience. She brought him in close, spinning him around like a ribbon dancer would, and punched him in the face. He collapsed to the ground as the last of the fiery electricity stopped holding him up, body still steaming as his wounds hissed.
Laurel picked him up by the collar and dangled him in the air.
“Like I said. This would have been a lot easier if you just stood aside.” She was tall, tall enough that with the two of them at eye-height Claren’s feet couldn’t find the floor at all. She started to carry him towards the window and Claren thought about how high the mansion was from the ground as she threw him through it.
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Cirius had taken a quick break when he felt his eyes start to slide from their sockets. He excused himself to the bathroom, died, and then came back out as fresh as a daisy. Ignoring the incredibly confused and alarmed expressions of the crime lords, he continued to lead them out until they were in the front yard.
“Welp,” he said, “you can all go home now.” He heard some commotion from the mansion, and turned around. The noises stopped.
“Huh. Must have been the wind.”
The window shattered and Claren hurtled through. Cirius scrambled around the lawn and managed to catch Claren, taking the brunt of the fall as the man slammed into him. He was burnt heavily all over, and a hiss of pain escaped his lips as Cirius set him gently upon the ground. He looked up as a figure jumped down, landing on top of a car as electricity coursed around her. It was the woman from before, still brandishing her glaive and with her mask covering her face. Bauble, was it?
“Hey,” said Cirius, because he didn’t know what else to say.
“Hey,” she returned casually, leaning against her glaive onto the ruined wreck. She seemed to be trying to appear flippant, but too much of her weight was put on the glaive for that to be true.
“Did you do this?” he asked, gesturing towards Claren.
“Yep.”
Cirius nodded. “Not going to lie, Bauble, you suck. I kinda have to fight you now.”
Even with the mask Cirius could feel her glare. “First off, it’s Laurel. Second off, I don’t have time to waste on you.” She directed her gaze towards the crowd and waved her finger around. The crowd surged as if trying to disperse before she slammed her foot and sent a wave of fire soaring up to block them.
“Not you, not you, not you,” she muttered. “Ah, there you are!” The flames dispersed and the crowd backed away from the man she was pointing to. He looked around, as if for anyone to help. Everyone turned and ran towards their cars, getting in and driving away within seconds.
Laurel twirled her glaive and jumped down. “I’m going to kill you now, okay?” She dodged leisurely to the side as Cirius tried to tackle her, sending volts of electricity through his body with a casual backhand. She grabbed Cirius by the collar and threw him with a blast of lightning, hurtling him several metres away. The man turned to run and she shot out a small bolt of lightning, seizing him up and collapsing him to the ground. She stepped forward, scraping the glaive across the scorched grass before being slammed in the back. She whipped around to see Claren pointing his index finger, his face screwed up in pain yet eyes forced open.
“You really don’t know when to quit, so you?” she snarled. She hoisted her glaive into the air but was interrupted once again as Cirius popped out and managed to grasp onto Laurel’s leg. Before she could kick him off, he clambered up onto her back and clung to her.
“What the fUCKKK” she yelled, the yell turning into a screech as Cirius bit down as hard as he could on her shoulder. She wheeled around wildly, shouting curses to the sky as she tried her hardest to shake Cirius off. He continued to hang on, his fingers gripping tightly and only the gloves preventing his nails from sinking into her skin. Fire and lightning roiled off of her yet Cirius continued to cling on. She slammed her back against the mansion again and again. Cirius heard something crunch from within his body. Still holding on with one hand, he grabbed a disk from his pocket and tossed it into the air. Dropping down, he kicked at Laurel’s feet before running away as the disk exploded and sent debris tumbling down onto her. He ran to Claren and hauled him up, trying his best not to touch the deep burns. He turned his attention to the man who was still lying on the ground as if pretending to be dead. Cirius walked over while holding up Claren and kicked him in the side.
“Ah! Just kill me quickly!” he screamed before seeing that it was just Cirius. Cirius stared down at him.
“Just get up and help me support Claren.”
They managed to get into a building and barricade the door. Cirius propped Claren up against the wall as the man started to pace the halls.
“God, where are the guards! They should have stopped her!” he yelled. Cirius grabbed a pen and threw it at his head.
“Shut up. She’s going to hear us.”
“Hear us! Who cares if she hears us! She’ll find us anyway! We’re doomed!”
Claren slitted his eyes open. “Keep it down. I have a headache and it’s…”
“Killing you?” Cirius interjected.
Claren raised an eyebrow. “No. My wounds are killing me. My headache is simply a pain to deal with.”
Cirius chewed his lip. He needed a plan. Devona and Harlow were both off somewhere else, and he didn’t have time to wait for them to come around.
“Think, think,” he muttered to himself. An idea sparked in his head. It wasn’t very good, but it was all he had.
“You there,” he said, pointing at the man who he had thrown the pen at. “Uh, what’s your name?”
“Winston Haxter,” supplied Claren with a pained voice. “He’s the one I was supposed to be negotiating with.”
“I see, I see. What’s your discipline?”
“I, uh, can run well.”
Cirius hummed. “Super-speed, eh? Yeah, I can work with that.”
“No, I run at normal speed. But like, I don’t get tired. I can just keep running.”
“Huh. So you have infinite stamina?”
“Yeah. But like… just for running.”
Cirius hummed again. “Well, I can probably still work with that.” He stepped towards Winston and pointed towards a long hallway. “Alright, when she gets here, you’re going to start running down there.”
“What! She’ll kill me!”
“Come on man. Your magic is literally just running. You can outpace her. ‘Sides, I have a plan. Claren’s going to be at the end of the hallway, and he’ll bubble the two of you up. I’ll distract her and lead her far away where I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”
Winston stared at him. “You’ll die.”
“Oh, most definitely. In fact, probably several times! But hey, that’s just how it is.”
Winston’s face dropped even more, if that was even possible. “You’re absolutely insane. We’re all going to die.”
“Nope! Just me! Anyways, go wait by the hallway. Don’t want to lose any ground.” He walked over to Claren before Winston could protest. He sat down next to him.
“Hey.”
Claren titled his head down. “Mr. Walker.”
“You up for the plan?”
He shifted his body and winced. “I am. I don’t think it’s an especially good plan, but I don’t see a better way.” A strange expression settled over his face. It took a while for Cirius to discern it. It was discontentment, irritation, bitterness. Claren seemed to recognise this and swallowed the expression.
“You know, it’s not too late to toss Winston at her and walk away.”
“What did you say?” Winston called out.
“Nothing!”
Claren sighed and his shoulders sagged. “No. That’s not for me to decide. I have a job, and I need to do it.”
“Why? I mean, you clearly don’t want to protect him.”
Claren looked away. The two of them sat in silence before Clarne spoke up again. “I need to do my job because it’s… it’s not a good job. It doesn’t feel good to look people you know have done horrible, horrible things in the eye and shake their hand. To watch them walk away and know that you could have stopped them but… couldn’t. Or just didn’t. I won’t - I can’t let anyone else do that.” His hand reached up to the two rings on his fingers and twisted them - a golden band with a bright yellow gem and a silver band with a cool blue one.
Cirius stared at the ground. “Wow. That kinda sucks.”
Claren huffed a laugh. “That it does.” He shook his head. “Look at me, talking about my feelings while on the job. How unprofessional.” He staggered to his feet. “You should go and get prepared. Won’t be long until she finds us.”
Claren was right. The door was thrown off its hinges and a figure ducked down. The light glinted off the white mask as Laurel stood in the frame. She stared down across the room at Winston, who was doing a very good job looking like a deer in headlights. She cocked her head to the side. Winston bolted down the hallway, his breaths sharp and panicked. She blasted forward with a bolt of lightning, each step energised as she leisurely followed him.
Laurel ran down the hallway, every step bringing her closer to Winston. Cirius let out a silent exhale. It was time. All the doors along the hallway were open, and a short figure jumped out of one only to be met with an immediate blast of lightning so strong it sent the figure slamming back immediately. Laurel had anticipated a trap being laid. Unfortunately for her, Cirius had anticipated her anticipation. The makeshift, stuffed, humanoid doll wearing Cirius clothes smouldered, the string that attached it to the tripwire carefully hidden across the floor snapped from the sudden force of the lightning. At the same moment as she turned to unleash her magic, Cirius leapt from the opposing side and tackled Laurel, sending the two of them crashing to the ground.
Laurel grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the wall, fire roiling off of her and washing over him. Cirius kicked at Laurel until he felt it connect with something hard and her grip loosened. He dropped down as he realised that his eyeballs had been burnt off. He scrambled around blindly for several seconds before a glaive tore through his chest and ripped him in half. A foot stomped on his head again and again until his skull cracked open and his brains were mushed upon the floor. Laurel stomped on the desecrated body again and again until blood and gore started to coat the cuffs of her pants.
“You know, I’m starting to feel a little insulted.” She whipped her head around and stared at Cirius, standing there perfectly fine.
“Wha- you-” she looked back at the corpse, then at Cirius. “I killed you!”
“You missed.”
She looked back at the corpse. “No I fucking didn’t!” She grabbed her glaive and threw it at him, slicing his face wide open along with the rest of his head. The top half of his head slid cleanly off and onto the floor.
“Missed again,” said Cirius from behind her. She gathered lightning in her hand and sent a bolt right through him.
“You should really aim better.”
“What the fuck!” Laurel screamed. “I killed you! I killed you several times!” “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He dodged the glaive being thrown at him again and turned to run. Laurel charged after him, each charged step leaving cracks within the floor. He ducked down as she ripped through the air, fire and lightning trailing behind her. She brought down a wave of flame with a kick, following it up by swinging her glaive as it crackled with lightning. Cirius ducked under, rushing forward through the flame and punching Laurel in the stomach. His gloves glowed for a second, a frosty cyan that pierced the air, and a blast of energy ripped out that slammed Laurel into the wall.
Cirius was hit with a wave of exhaustion. He’d died thrice in a row, and although there didn’t seem to be any limit on how many times he could die and revive, it certainly wore on him after a while. He needed to think of something to do. Laurel was already drawing herself back to her feet, her mask shifted to the side and revealing her cold, hard eyes that blazed with fury. His mind scoured all of what he knew of buildings like this.
“The boiler room! Of course! If I can get there, I can blow this place sky high and take her down with it.” He forced himself up and started to run, turning around briefly to wave at Laurel. As expected, she gave chase, her movements more akin to a rabid animal than a hunter. He ran through winding corridors and locked doors, barely dodging the stray bolt of lightning or fireball. He could already feel the exhaustion from dying and reviving thrice in a row; he’d be too tired to outpace Laurel if he had to die again.
He reached the door to the boiler just as Laurel caught up, tackling Cirius and sending him crashing through the old, rotten wood. She kicked him in the face as he slid across the floor, preventing him from righting himself. She stepped forward and pressed her foot down on his back.
“I wonder,” she said, “how many times can you die until it becomes too much? Is there even a limit for you?” Her voice was sing-songy and slightly manic, like glass about to shatter into thousands of sharp, sharp fibres. Cirius rooted around his pocket. He didn’t feel any explosives. He clicked his fingers and a spark flicked to life, the cyan light barely visible before fizzling out.
“I mean, if there is, I certainly haven’t reached it yet.” He clicked again and a bigger spark emerged. He managed to shoot it out of his index finger right towards one of the thermal tanks. The tiny spark travelled through the air, hit the tank and did absolutely nothing.
“Well. We’re screwed.” As Cirius started to lament his poor planning skills, Laurel’s head snapped up.
“What was that?”
“Uh. Nothing,” Cirius replied like the excellent liar he was. Laurel cocked her head. “Oh, so that sound from behind that thermal tank over there was nothing?” She lifted her arm and her hand flared with electricity. “Hope you won’t mind this, then.” She shot a bolt of lightning and hit the thermal dead centre. There was a beat of silence. “Oh, fuck.” A moment later, absolutely nothing happened.
“Oh. I really thought those were going to explode. Like, as soon as I realised I had blasted lightning at a thermal tank, I was all ‘that’s going to explode’.” She laughed. “Wow. That’s pretty funny.”
Cirius felt something brush up against the hand that was still in his pocket. He pulled it out.
“Oh hey! I still have an explosive disk!” He activated it, threw it at the thermal tank and the world exploded.
“-ey. Wake up.” Cirius blearily opened up his eyes. He was laid out across the floor next to what presumably had been the building. Claren was crouched next to him, snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.”
Cirius nodded and got up. He was so incredibly tired, but a sense of accomplishment filled his chest. “We did it.”
Claren nodded. “Indeed we did.”
There was a small silence before Cirius broke it. “Hey, about what you said before. I know it probably isn’t much, coming from me, but,” Cirius hovered his hand above Claren’s shoulder. “I think you’re really awesome.”
Claren bowed his head. “Thank you, Cirius.” He stared at the hand. “I’m sorry, what is this?”
“Well, I heard from bossman that you don’t like physical touch. So I’m doing this to show reassurance while still respecting your boundaries.”
Claren blinked. “That’s… pretty thoughtful, actually.”
“Hey, uh, am I safe to go now?” Winston asked, standing a few feet away and ruining the moment.
“Yeah, it should be all good,” Cirius responded before a bolt of lightning ripped through Winston’s head.
Claren immediately flared up his shield around the two of them, blocking the next bolt of lightning. Laurel, her mask half-shattered to show her furious eye, tuxedo torn with skin scraped raw underneath, and arm clearly broken staggered towards them.
“You clever, clever little fucker. You led me on quite the wild goose chase.” Her mouth twisted into a manic grin. “Typically, I’d just leave you be. But now? I think I’m going to kill the shield guy first and string out his body across the buildings here. Then I’m going to throw the little one in a box and toss him into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean.” She hoisted her glaive as lightning crackled around her, larger and more volatile than before.
Claren narrowed his eyes. “Cirius. Are you in any condition to fight?”
Cirius shook his head. “Going to be honest, this feels like a running situation.” As if on cue, a wall of flames erupted to life around them.
Something silent flew through the air. A thin, red line appeared over Laurel’s cheek. The crossbow bolt embedded into a wall. Laurel turned around and Harlow faced her, holding a crossbow aimed straight at her. There was a beat of silence as Harlow stared her down, their message held clearly in their hands. Laurel stamped her foot and a circle of flame enveloped her. When it cleared, she was gone. Harlow stared off towards the air, as if contemplating pursuing her, but turned to Claren and Cirius instead.
“I must admit, it would have been very useful having you here earlier.”
I was busy, they replied as they poured a blue vial over Claren’s wounds.
“Where’s bossman?” “Right here.” Devona popped into existence behind them and his eyes scanned the area. He looked down at the two of them. “Claren. You don’t look so good.”
“I could say the same about you. Broken hip?”
“Certainly feels like it. Cirius, you alright?”
Cirius flashed him a thumbs up. “You know it.”
“I’ll inform you of the details after I get these wounds treated,” Claren told Harlow. “I think I’ll be fine to walk on my own for now. I’ll let you know if I require any assistance.”
They made it all the way back to the original drop-off point and called Axon. After Claren explained a basic overview of why they were so late and Harlow was forced to promise to describe everything that happened, the portals opened up. Claren waved Harlow and Cirius through but held Devona back.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
Claren hummed. “Cirius was… the only reason that I survived. If it wasn’t for him, then I wouldn’t be here right now. He may seem strange and irrational, but-”
“When push comes to shove, you can count on him.”
Claren nodded. “It took me a while to realise that. But from what I’ve heard from Axon, you seem to be able to put up with Cirius’s less serious side very well. How is that?”
Devona scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I’m just used to it.”
“I see.” Claren bowed his head. “Goodbye, Mr. Verdant. And do get that hip checked.”
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“Jamie, no! That’s a terrible idea!”
“Come on, Vivian. It’ll be great! I’ve constructed the perfect plan!”
Vivian folded his arms. “Oh yeah? And what is that, pray tell?”
“Alright, so, in order to make our own water-slide, we steal all the blankets from all the houses and wet them. We tie them together, and then we attach it all around the town and slide around! It’d be amazing!”
Vivian stared at his twin sister with a mix of disbelief and amazement. “And how are we going to attach it all around the town?”
She faltered. “I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” She clasped her hands together. “Come onnnnn Vivi, please!”
Vivian sighed. “Fine. Just this once,” he replied, perhaps for the fifteenth time.
“Yay!” Jamie slung her arm over his shoulder. “I promise you, this is going to be awesome.”
“I’m sure,” he responded dryly, but he couldn’t hide the small grin on his fsce.
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Laurel Pariah was pissed. She winced as she jolted her broken arm, and she felt how her entire body radiated with pain from every movement she took. The wind was howling, so she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until they were right behind her.
“You’ve returned,” the figure said brightly.
“That I have.”
The Dreamer hummed, and Laurel shifted her gaze to see him picking at his nails. “Did you achieve your mission?”
“I did. I just ran into some… complications.”
The Dreamer chuckled unkindly. “I can see that.” He cocked his head to the side, his expression hidden behind a mask decorated with white stars. “You broke your mask again. They’re not going to be pleased if you keep doing that, you know?”
“They collapsed a fucking building on me. What do you exp-”
The Dreamer put his hands up. “Hey now, hold your horses. Yes, yes, opponents were tough yadda yadda. I get it, I really do. Sucks to get your ass beaten so often, doesn’t it, poor little baby? I mean, I wouldn’t know, but still.”
Laurel grit her teeth. “Go fuck yourself.”
The Dreamer laughed. “Well then, I’ll see you later, Demon of Babel. Toodles!” He walked away, deep into the thicket of trees until he vanished from sight. Laurel kicked at the dirt before turning to walk away too, leaving only the wind to howl to an empty sky.

There’d been another shooting today, in some dainty little cafe downtown, in the places tucked so neatly away only people who had visited there their whole lives went. Pete Cordell sighed to himself as he stepped past the shattered glass. Once, the scene inside the cafe would have made his stomach turn. These days, the sight of eviscerated bodies and rooms painted with blood barely fazed him. The entire cafe was ruined, bullet holes riddling every surface imaginable. He whistled, low.
“They must have used up ten mags to do this much damage,” he observed out loud.
“Hey, you’re finally here!”
Pete looked up at the new voice - a man he’d worked with for a bit under four years now but still barely knew anything about - Wesley Smith. “Crazy shit, isn’t it? You’d think it was an action movie in here with the amount of bullets they dumped.”
“I’ll say,” Pete grumbled.
“That ain’t the weirdest shit though. Come over here.” Dividing the cafe in half was a massive sheet, and Wesley brushed past it as Pete followed. He stared.
On the ground was a gun - which wasn’t the first thing to draw his attention. What did draw his attention was the pool of blood on the ground, way too large for any normal injury to have caused. He moved his gaze around and his jaw slackened. Slumped against the wall were the remains of a black-robed man - although remains were generous, considering all that remained was a single arm, a head, and blood-soaked garments. The wall behind the remains was cracked and severely dented, as if something great and powerful had rammed into it. A few feet away, a body had its head entirely gone, nowhere to be seen, with only a spray of blood, a stain of flesh and the same deep impact on the wall where the head should have been.
“Pretty freaky, right?” Wesley’s facade of bravado wouldn’t have fooled even a child. “Makes you feel like you’re in one of them horror stories, you know?”
“I’ll say,” Pete repeated, coughing to get rid of his shaky voice. A buzz from his radio drew his attention, and he held it up to his ear.
“All officers to the station now. I repeat, all officers to the station now.” The voice on the other end was… strange, but Pete chalked that up to his wracked nerves.
He nodded to Wesley and ignored the strange feeling in his stomach. “Alright. Let’s go.”
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A few days later, Pete was flipping pancakes in the kitchen. His wife came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist as the kids squabbled around the table.
“Had a good sleep?” He asked as she rested her chin on his shoulder.
She hummed in affirmation. “How was the latest case?” she asked.
He frowned. It’d been another shooting, in some dainty cafe downtown, and he’d… hang on, what had he done? Before he could strain himself too much, a memory slotted into place and he relaxed.
“Oh, nothing special. Nothing special at all.”
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It was just a few minutes into the breaking of dawn that a massive clanging woke Devona up. He shot out of the bed, not falling out of the bed but instead scrambling for the lightswitch as he got to his feet. His brain pushed past the fight or flight instinct that had shattered his sleep and he relaxed again as his memories came back. A few months into WICCA’s formation, during the time that they had been starting to talk to each other for purposes other than business, they’d headed over to Cirius’s abode.
“And here is my bed!”
They all stared at the bare mattress lying upon a metal frame, only a thin scrap of fabric and something that was barely a pillow upon it. The rest of the apartment wasn’t faring much better, with only a mini-fridge in the kitchen and one of each bathroom item. The walls were a murky grey with the wallpaper peeling, and there was a stench of alcohol in the air.
Axon let out a whistle. “Damn, you live like this?” Her expression turned solemn. “Seriously, though, these conditions are pretty rough.”
Cirius shrugged. “Eh. Could be worse. I used to just find a dumpster that wasn’t full and sleep in there.”
Devona sucked in a breath. “That’s… really bad.”
Cirius gave another shrug. “Some dumpsters aren’t that bad actually. Getting chased away with a broom for being an intruder or like, getting shot, is worse.”
“Well, moving on from that depressing bit of background, you could for sure get a better apartment with how much you’re being paid,” Axon interjected.
Cirius’s eyes widened. “I could?”
“Yeah, man. You know how much money you have. It’s all in your bank account.”
His eyes widened further. I have a bank account?”
“What do you mean? I sent the details to you through your email…” Understanding dawned across her face. “Goddamn it.”
There was a crash outside of the apartment, drawing their attention towards it. Devona walked open to the door and gingerly opened it to reveal two men tussling upon the ground, swearing angrily at each other.
“Hey John!” exclaimed Cirius cheerfully as the man on top lifted his fist and slammed it on the other’s face.
Devona stepped forward with his hands held out placatingly in front of himself.
“Alright, now, let’s calm-”
Devona was interrupted as he was talking by a fist swinging straight towards his face. As he reeled back, another hand was already closing over it and forcing the assailant down. Harlow stared down at the man they were forcing down with a singular hand, watching as his expression strained to continue to look defiant through the pain.
They pressed down further, causing the man’s expression to shift into pain as he hammered onto the floor with his free hand, hollering to let him go.
Devona gingerly placed his hand on their shoulder. “Hey, I think that’s enough now.”
Harlow raised an eyebrow at them. He tried to punch you.
“Well, he didn’t punch me.”
Harlow tilted their head but let go of the person, allowing him to run off with a bruised ego and most likely a bruised wrist. The other man got up and staggered away, the smell of alcohol fresh in the air. Devona let his hand drop as Harlow watched them go, wiping their hand upon their cloak.
After that, Cirius had thankfully used the money to get a proper apartment. Or rather, several proper apartments since he kept getting kicked out. And now he had found himself inside Devona’s new house. Devona sighed and rubbed his eyes to get rid of the tiredness, heading down the stairs to see what the commotion was all about. Cirius was sprawled upon the floor, his pillow several feet away, the couch he was staying on half tipped over and his blanket looking like it had been attacked by a savage animal.
He waved. “Hey bossman.”
Devona stared. “How.”
“Well, you see, I kinda woke up. And stuff was like this.”
Devona sighed and picked Cirius up. He held him like a cat, with his hands underneath the arms as Cirius’s legs dangled, and plopped him down onto the couch after pushing it down with his feet. He began to clean up the rest of the mess. Cirius shot to his feet instantly.
“I could-”
Devona waved him off. “It’s fine. It’s early, just try to get some more rest in. I’ll get another blanket.” He continued to clean up in silence, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He turned and Cirius was still sitting up, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
“Well, if we’re not going to sleep again, why don’t we eat breakfast? I’ll get the cereal.”
They ate together in silence, letting the sound of chewing fill the air. As Devona was thinking about setting up a garden outside, Cirius spoke up.
“Sorry for the blanket. And for waking you up. And-“
Devona raised a hand. “I told you, it’s fine.” Internally, he frowned.
“Was Cirius still hung up about that?” He had noticed an uncanny silence, but he had drawn that up to tiredness. Speaking of, was Cirius even tired? Cirius had been wide awake every time Devona had gone to bed, and wide awake when Devona awoke. One time, Devona had walked blearily down the stairs to get a glass of water in the dead of night, and almost got a heart attack from Cirius suddenly talking.
“So, what’s the mission for today, bossman?” Cirius interrupted his train of thought, rocking on his chair and back to his usual bounciness.
“Well, if you read your email, you’d know,” Devona deadpanned before relenting. “It’s just an attendance to some event that acts as a cover for underground dealings. While Claren deals with negotiations, we mingle with the crowd unless Harlow needs some backup. They’ll be off stealing some documents.” He polished off the last of the cereal. “We should get some more rest before the mission. Don’t want to be too tired.”
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Claren and Harlow were already there when Cirius and Devona arrived. They were all dressed in suits again, like they had been at that party months back. Claren took a few seconds to assess their outfits. Before the mission, Claren had talked with Devona, telling him that he would stand out too much. His height was the most obvious, but according to Claren his posture was ‘too subdued and open to pass as a crime lord’. Instead, Devona would be with Harlow, finding the documents, while Cirius would be a possible back-up to Claren. Really, it was because it was doubtful that he would be able to carry out a stealth mission.
Devona went over to greet Harlow. After exchanging conversation, he grabbed Harlow by the shoulder and the two of them vanished. Claren adjusted his suit, the light glinting off of the two rings on his fingers. “Well, you can go and mingle with the party. If I’m in trouble, try to cause a distraction.”
Cirius nodded thoughtfully. “Explosions?”
“Try to keep those to a minimum.”
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Cirius was mingling, but he was not mingling happily. The people really did hold themselves in a different way than Devona did, with pushed up chests and little hand waves. Everyone who talked to him seemed to need to suddenly leave, so Cirius was currently standing by the food table chomping on dishes.
“Real boring party,” a voice drawled.
Cirius turned. He tilted his head and stopped biting down on the plate. Leaning up against the table with an easy casualness, dressed in a full tuxedo with bowtie and tailed coat, the speaker plucked a grape from the stem and popped it into her mouth. Her rainbow scarf swished as she swivelled her head to look down at him, and her mismatched eyes were lit with amusement. She seemed familiar, but Cirius couldn’t put his finger on why. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
Cirius thought about this. “Eh, it’s alright. I remember one time I blacked out at a party like this and woke up in a bathtub filled with ice.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “You’re a pretty funny guy,” she snickered, waving a fork at him.
Her smile tapered into a grin, and her eyes narrowed. “But in my opinion, this party could really use some better entertainment.” She pulled a mask over her face - one of a white demon with small, pointed horns, and drew a glaive from her back. She threw it. The glaive soared through the air, and Cirius watched as it trailed dried intestines through the air before embedding itself deep inside the chest of one of the guests. Screams tore through the air and Cirius remembered that murder was not good.
“Claren, there’s been a murder! That’s not good!” he yelled, his voice drowned out by the din of panic and magic. The woman dodged past beams of energy and fire, grabbing onto the handle of the glaive and swinging it in a wide arc around her, carving into anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. Claren burst out from the room, his eyes narrowing and shield wrapping around him as soon as he realised the situation. He pressed up against the wall and then shot forward, like a rubber ball that had suddenly been decompressed. The woman’s cackling was interrupted as he slammed into her full force, sending the both of them crashing across the floor.
“Laurel Pariah. I didn’t expect you to show your face again so soon.” Cirius was close enough to hear them, and it helped that everybody had either ran away or died.
“So, my reputation precedes me,” Laurel responded brightly, kicking Claren off and swinging her glaive right at him. He raised his arm and it glanced off the glimmering shield, giving him an opportunity to land a blow at her gut. She stumbled back and he struck her across the head as she was darting backwards. Her glaive sliced through the air but ricocheted off of Claren’s shield, and he grabbed the bladed end to bring Laurel in closer. She kicked at him, causing her leg to bounce back and almost knock her over, only being held above ground by an uppercut directly into her stomach. She managed to stagger backwards, coughing.
“Wow, you really don’t play around do you?” she wheezed. “I didn’t expect to use my magic so soon, but I guess it can’t be helped.”
Claren moved back, tilting his head towards Cirius. “Go herd the people outside to safety. I’ll deal with her.” Cirius flashed him a thumbs up and headed in the direction of panicked shouts. Claren’s eyes scoured the room, as if looking for whatever Laurel may use against him. Speaking of Laurel, something strange appeared to be happening to her. Her skin seemed pale, almost bright. No, definitely bright - glowing, in fact. Before Claren could register it fully however, Laurel pivoted with a kick and sent a bolt of lightning slamming into him.
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The two of them had gotten past security with ease, Devona stealing documents from right under noses and Harlow repeating the pattern of fingerprints upon keyboards. The two of them were currently sitting upon beams, dangling their legs high above the ground.
Just a few more, and we’ll be out of here soon.
Devona tilted his head to the side. “These people really love to party, huh.”
Harlow chewed their cheek. Well, it’s sort of a coping mechanism. Unlike the more recent sorcerers like you and I, these people grew up in a society wholly made from those who possess magic. There’s a certain sense of… superiority within those places. To them, death was less of a constant presence. That was until the Scourges came. Suddenly humans, magic or not, were all pushed down a level on the food chain. That sudden shock of mortality, paired with the changing landscape of the world, is certain to cause some stress. They leaned backwards on their hands. Not to mention, it’s a pretty good cover for criminal activity.
Devona hummed. “Yeah, the world's a chaotic place.” He bowed his head slightly. “Do you think we can win? Against the Scourges, that is.”
Their tongue traced the inside of their mouth as they mulled, an action mirrored from others despite their mouth never being used to talk. It’s unclear. We don’t even know where the Scourges are coming from or what they are. There could be only a small handful left in the world, or there could be legions waiting to invade. We manage to push them back, but not without loss. The Scourge at Scotland was one of the weaker ones. The teleporting Scourge was one of the less destructive ones. And yet they managed to cause so much devastation. They tilted their head to meet his gaze. But I think we’ll win.
Devona smiled. “I hope so.”
How’s it going with Cirius at your place, by the way?
Devona scrunched up his forehead as memories came flooding in. “Well, he doesn’t eat unless I make him. Or really visit the bathroom since he doesn’t eat. I don’t even think he sleeps, at least not most of the time. I’ve also never seen him change his clothes. He seems weirdly nervous at times though. He’s probably destroyed like five of my blankets by now. He keeps giving me heart attacks at night by scurrying around the house. He tried to cook once and blew up the entire kitchen. I’m not even exaggerating, he had third degree burns all over his skin. Took me ages to patch him up, especially with him refusing to remove his clothing.” Devona sighed and noticed Harlow’s expression. They had a bemused expression on their face. “What is it?” You’re quite an attentive person, that’s all. They turned their gaze elsewhere. The last of the physical documents should be three doors down on the rightmost corridor.
“What will you be doing?”
Attending to my own business. I’ll meet you afterwards.
Devona nodded and vanished, leaving Harlow alone underneath the clouded sky.
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The hierarchy of the world was simple. At the bottom were the plants, the insects, the ones who barely fed themselves and were gorged upon or crushed by a wayward hand. On top, edging them out were the small predators, the mice and shrews of the world. And above them this and this and that until up on top the world, the pinnacle of power, was humanity. Of course, there was division within humanity. Some believed it to be race, or gender, or sexuality, or any other sort of arbitrary difference they’d use to hold a sense of superiority over others. But the true division, the fissure that stretched across like the mouth of a god, was magic.
Opal Pact was currently walking upon the tightrope across that fissure. To live in a world of magic without any of your own was common, given how billions of people did it, but to know about magic and to live in its world was less so. Of course, it was a lot less dramatic than her mini-monologues in her head, like the one about hierarchies, had made it seem. Most would expect fabulous displays of power, magic that could bend and buckle nations. Instead, they got people who could throw fancy balls that were basically slower, less effective bullets, or throw fireballs which were once again slower, less effective bullets, or become pinnacles of physical brawn who were immune to bullets and who were as susceptible to chemical warfare as anybody else. Even the ones who held incredible power weren’t immune to a knife in their neck in the dead of night. The point was, Opal was less of walking upon a tightrope and more of peering into a secret party and inviting herself in. Besides, if those unedited videos of cities’ destruction were anything to go buy, humans weren’t the top of the food-chain anymore, magic or not.
She whistled to herself, the tune of some forgotten song as she twirled a crowbar between her fingers. She knocked on the door to the security room and then smashed it open, interrupting the guard who was in the middle of trying to figure out why several of the cameras had stopped working. The smashing of the crowbar into his face sent several of his teeth scattering, and he collapsed onto his desk. He’d be fine, probably. Opal mentally shrugged with that thought and pushed him off the wheely chair, letting him flop onto the floor as she took a seat. She grabbed a can of oil from her bag and poured it out the door, letting it run down across the hallway. The tinted plastic she’d stuck to the lights before she’d made her entrance were just yellow enough that anyone who came rushing in wouldn’t have time to notice the oil until it was too late.
Opal slammed the door as shut as she could, kicking her feet onto the table and popping a piece of gum into her mouth. She chewed, letting the sugar flare upon her tongue as her fingers ran across the keyboard. There was a sound of people yelling, then the sound of bodies slamming against the wall and floor. She stretched her arms behind her head, kicking off of the desk to avoid the blast of energy that ripped right through the door. It was shoved open and Opal pushed off the wall towards the attacker, pulling out her taser and jabbing it into his stomach. He staggered and then slipped, falling chin-first onto the floor. She stepped off of the chair and kicked it, sending it bouncing around and knocking down the few guards who managed to remain standing. She slid across the floor, using the slickness to her advantage to weave past grasping hands and past the oil. Grabbing a matchbox from her hand, she struck a match and held it loftily between the fingers. The effect was immediate, with all the guards scrambling across the floors on either all fours or trying their best to stand up. She tossed the match to the oil-slicken ground and slid into the next room. The oil wasn’t flammable.
The oil eventually rubbed off from the friction, leaving Opal to walk along the floor. She eventually found what she came for. She smashed the lock off of the door, the alarm already having been disabled by her in the security room. She popped her bubble of gum and pushed the door open. Standing in the room, looking incredibly confused, was an incredibly tall man. He stared at her, the documents on the desk in front of him. She stared at him. He stared at her. She grabbed the tablecloth and threw it over his head, snatching up the documents as he stumbled back.
Opal dove out the door before the man could get his bearings, skidding across the floor and breaking into a sprint. She pulled out a bag of marbles and tossed it behind her, spilling the contents all across the floor. She used the crowbar to jam the door behind her shut, running past the winding hallways. The exit wasn’t far, and soon she’d be able to hop on her motorcycle and be scot free.
She wheeled around the corner and almost collided into a group of sorcerers. She could tell they were sorcerers since they immediately threw blasts of energy her way as she ducked behind the wall. One of them charged forward and punched the wall where her head had been. He lifted his arm to strike again and then vanished.
“Huh?” The other sorcerers seemed equally confused. Something appeared from nowhere and smacked into the face of one, leaving the last to look around panickedly before the frying pan knocked him out. The man from before appeared out of thin air, looking much more annoyed than he had before. He waved his pan at her face.
“Alright, who the hell are you?”
“Invisibility, probably. Strong as well if he managed to bypass the crowbar so easily, or crafty if he found another way to track me,” her mind supplied.
Opal rooted around for her spray-can. “Who am I? Oh, no-one really. Just a gal trying to make her way in the world.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “Would you be willing to hand over the documents?”
Opal pressed her thumb and index to her chin. “Eh, probably not.”
He sighed. He vanished right as Opal lifted her spray can and sent a blast of black into his face. She broke into a sprint, shoving the documents into her pocket as she continued to dash.
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Being short certainly had its shortcomings. Cirius couldn’t shout louder than the clamour, so he climbed onto whatever surface he could find and grabbed onto a plate and a fork. He scraped the prongs along the ceramic and the screech was loud enough to catch everyone’s attention.
“Alright, alright, listen up! I’ve been told to get you guys out of here, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
The people still seemed panicked and extremely suspicious. One of them aimed a hand full of fire at him. “Who the hell are you? And why should we listen to you?”
“You guys are running around too much! Look, that guy has other people standing on top of him!”
“Help.”
“In an emergency situation, it’s always good to have someone to direct everyone else. People tend to panic and move erratically, so having a leader allows the people to calm themselves down and move in a controlled manner, minimising the risk to themselves and each other,” Cirius recited. He felt a dash of smugness for remembering the entire thing.
The people did not seem very impressed. They stared up at him with confused and vaguely disgusted expressions.
“Anyways, the point is, we’re going to leave now.”
“What about the people back there!” one person exclaimed. “I have a husband who’s possibly dying right now!”
Cirius frowned. “What did he look like?” “He had- he has blonde hair, is wearing a suit with a blue tie-”
“Oh, I think I saw who you’re talking about!”
“Really? Was he alright?”
Cirius scratched his head. “Uh, well, if he can survive without his head on then he should be good.”
“What the hell is wrong with you!”
“Come on, man!” “Why would you say that?”
Exclamations and cries of dismay rose up from the crowd and suddenly everyone was yelling at him.They started to throw plates and utensils at him, throwing insults along with them.
“Alright, alright, let’s just calm down,” he tried to say over the clamour. A plate smacked onto his head and dazed him for a second. Frustration bubbled in his chest as the people kept on yelling and yelling and the noise built up and up until the frustration melded into anger and burst from him.
“Shut up! Shut up, all of you!” he yelled, his own voice barely rising above the chaos. He grabbed a plate of his own and threw it into the crowd. “I’m trying to save your goddamn lives you idiots!”
Something bright came flying at him and he felt his body light ablaze, the fire rapidly spreading over his clothes and flesh. A silence fell over the crowd, their expressions now of shock and bewilderment rather than outrage. He moved his head towards the one who threw the fireball, the slight movement drawing gasps from the people around him. He jumped down from the table and walked towards the attacker, everyone else clearing a wide berth around him. He dug his fingernails into his bubbling flesh, tearing deep and causing blood to spill out, dampening the flames with a hiss. Blood dripped onto the floor as he flexed his hand before pulling his arm back and punching the elemental in the face. His hand practically exploded, spraying gore and viscera all over the man’s features. He fell to the floor with a horrified scream, too distracted to notice Cirius lifting a chair until it was already coming down on his head. Cirius patted down his body, ripping away at skin where the fire refused to die out. He turned to the crowd - or at least, the blurry outline of the crowd.
“So, are we ready to go now?” he asked brightly. He lifted his hand to scratch at his face and felt bone. The crowd nodded, subdued. “Pick that guy up, by the way.” He turned to the exit and they all followed suit.
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Devona was not having a good time. He’d managed to avoid most of the spray, but he’d needed to wipe away at his eyes before they stung too much. He floated past the groaning guards on the oil-slick floor, up the stairs to the upper floors. Marbles were strewn across the ground, and one man was rolling around while clutching his spray-painted eyes. The window on the far end was smashed open despite the latch being unlocked. Peeking his head around, he could see the perpetrator running along the rooftop, sticking her tongue out at the people on the ground. She grabbed an egg from her pocket and slung it at the head of one, exploding it all over his face as he tried to grab his gun.
She ducked down and slid along the tiles as bullets fired above her head, grabbing the side and swinging down into the window. A few seconds later, a chair was flung out and slammed into the remaining guards. A guard rushed up to the window next to Devona, pulling out a machine gun. Devona wasn’t a fan of excessive violence against his enemies, so he introduced his face to a frying pan. At the same time, the thief, as Devona had dubbed her, was thrown from the window. She managed to grab onto the curtain and ripped it as she slid down the wall, landing with a thud onto the ground. Standing there in the doorframe, holding onto ruffled documents as air swirled was a guard, more filing around her with magic swirling in the air.
Devona felt movement behind him and phased out, dodging the blast of energy that would have taken off his head. He grabbed the guard and phased them out with him, using their newfound weightlessness to throw them as hard. All eyes snapped to the man as he flew through the air, giving Devona enough time to swoop down and phase out the thief.
He dropped the two of them on the roof of the building overlooking the guards as they looked around in surprise. The thief immediately got to talking.
“So, you can phase out, huh? I thought you might have been a Neoteric, seeing as you look less out-of-touch than a lot of other sorcerers. Do you have a cool name for your discipline?”
Devona glanced at her. “It’s incorporealism.”
She rolled her eyes. “Bo-ring. You develop a whole branch of magic and you give it some lame name like that?”
“It’s not- whatever.”
She sighed and rolled her shoulders. “Why don’t we make a truce?” she said suddenly. “Just until we get the documents. Especially since they see us now.”
Devona looked down just in time to weave to the side and let the lightning pass by him. There was a woosh of air and all the guards were upon the roof, one of them still holding the documents in her hand.
A gust of air, a blast, and several bullets connected with nothing as Devona vanished. He grabbed one guard and threw them off, lashing out with only his foot physical and kicked another guard right in the stomach. Weave, dodge, strike, move back, more forward. The movements weren’t as fluid as they could have been, and he winced from a graze across his arm, but it wasn’t long before he and the thief were the only people still standing upon the roof.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow. Not bad. You’re quite the combatant.”
Devona started looking around for where the documents had fallen, turning his back to her. “Thanks.”
“What’s your name by the way?”
He lifted up one of the unconscious bodies. “It’s Devona. Yours?”
“Bergeron.” A strange name, but Devona wasn’t one to judge. “Say, I’ve just to ask, why did you save me back there?”
Devona frowned. “Is it not enough to not want to see another person die?”
She hummed. There was a bit of movement from behind him, and Devona phased out as a taser struck where he had just been. He phased back in, lashing out with a pivot and kick that slammed into her gut. He grabbed his pan and swung it at her head, clipping only her hair as she ducked down and he withdrew his body as she jabbed with her taser again. He slammed his pan onto her arm before she could reel it back in. Her taser dropped and Devona managed to strike her across the head, sending her stumbling back. She clutched his arm as if it was broken and Devona faltered slightly, just long enough for her to lash out with another hidden taser and hit him right in the gut. She grabbed onto her crowbar and smashed it against his head, with him managing to only slightly dodge the impact. He phased out again and grabbed her by the arm, throwing her against the wall. He stumbled, his vision turning white as rivulets of blood ran down his nose. Before he could recover he felt the crowbar slam into his hip and his legs buckled. The cool metal of the taser pressed into his back and jolts ran through his body.

SS:
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1 Thessalonians 5:6: "So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober."
“Sleeping is giving in, No matter what the time is. Sleeping is giving in, So lift those heavy eyelids. People say that you'll die Faster than without water. But we know it's just a lie, Scare your sons and scare your daughter.” –Arcade Fire
1 Peter 5:8: "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."
Revelation 3:2: "Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God."
“I wish I could take the pain away If you can make it through the night, there's a brighter day Everything will be alright if you hold on It's a struggle every day, gotta roll on” –Tupac
Isaiah 52:1: "Awake, awake, put on your strength."
"I can't sleep, the clowns will eat me." –The Simpsons
"I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death." –Nas
"The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep! You must ask for what you really want. Don't go back to sleep! People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don't go back to sleep!" –Rumi
Proverbs 6:9-11: “How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep? A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest — and poverty will come on you like a bandit and scarcity like an armed man.”
"Ooh, I'm thinking we should stay in tonight Get lost in the Pacific, paradise Is it only two of us? Yeah, I think I like that I'm staying up all night, oh yeah, yeah" –Charlie Puth
“Up all night, yeah, all night long; We can make the world right, yeah, we can make it strong” –Sia
"So I walked through the morning, sweet early morning I could hear my lady calling, "You've won me, you've won me, my Lord"" –Leonard Cohen
"This is why Why we fight, why we lie awake And this is why This is why we fight" –The Decemberists
“I'm young and I'm falling in love With the night I'm not tired, let's just ride” –Charli Adams
“Oh, I'm near to sleeping, I'm keeping awake It's tomorrow, yes it is” –Innocence Mission
“I know it's comfortable to go back to sleep Take a look at what you've been lying in Before you wake up in search of your paycheck death The demons of regret are making your deathbed” –Rocky Votolato
1 Thessalonians 5:6 "So then let us not sleep as others do, but let us be alert and sober."
“Yes, the sidewalk soon will launch you Into Brooklyn, through the air And they will give a cheer, I am sure When you are coming near To the ground Oh, early in the morning When you fly away” –Innocence Mission
“No sleep No Sleep till Brooklyn” –Beastie Boys
"No sleep, no sleep until I'm done with finding the answer." –Linkin Park
Matthew 26:41: "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Mark 13:33: "Be on guard, keep awake. For you do not know when the time will come."
“Those in the know say how it goes You plan on reapin' you better sow You plan on sleepin' you better keep movin' Sleepin' ain't allowed around here you know” –Townes Van Zandt
Ephesians 5:14: "For anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, 'Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.'"
"Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them." –Edgar Allan Poe
“Smokin' weed like it ain't no thing, so even kids Wanna try now, then lie down and get ran through Nobody watches 'em, clockin' the evil man do Faced with the demons, addicted to hearin' victims screamin'” –Tupac
"Awake! Awake O sleeper of the land of shadows, wake! Expand! I am in you and you in me, mutual in love divine." –William Blake
"Sleep is the most moronic fraternity in the world, with the heaviest dues and the crudest rituals." –Vladimir Nabokov
“I haven't eaten a bite Or slept for three days and nights That's how I got to Memphis” –Tom T. Jones
"Insomnia is my greatest inspiration." –Jon Stewart
"I'm up all night to get lucky." –Daft Punk
“Whatever gets you through the night It's all right, it's all right” –John Lennon
Surah Al-Imran (3:113): "They are not [all] the same; among the People of the Scripture is a community standing [in obedience], reciting the verses of Allah during periods of the night and prostrating [in prayer]."
Surah Al-Zumar (39:9): "Devoutly obedient during periods of the night, prostrating and standing [in prayer], fearing the Hereafter and hoping for the mercy of his Lord."
"Don't close your eyes, you might miss the show." –Aerosmith
“In the night forlorn the morning's born And the morning shines with the lights of love And you will miss sunrise if you close your eyes And that would break my heart in two” –Townes Van Zandt
“don't close your eyes; don't close your eyes, this is your life” –Switchfoot
“(I'm wide awake) Yeah, I was in the dark I was falling hard With an open heart (I'm wide awake) How did I read the stars so wrong? (I'm wide awake) And now it's clear to me That everything you see Ain't always what it seems (I'm wide awake) Yeah, I was dreaming for so long” –Katy Perry
"I'll sleep when I'm dead." –Warren Zevon –Bon Jovi
"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." –Robert Frost
“Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake with me Just keep on holding on” –Dean Lewis
"I can't sleep, I'm in too deep." –Alan Walker
"Stay awake, don't rest your head. Don't lie down upon your bed. While the moon drifts in the skies, stay awake, don't close your eyes." –Mary Poppins
“I don't wanna sleep, I just wanna Keep On Loving You” –REO Speedwagon
“Sleeping is giving in, No matter what the time is. Sleeping is giving in, So lift those heavy eyelids. People say that you'll die Faster than without water. But we know it's just a lie, Scare your sons and scare your daughter.” –Arcade Fire

I’m finally upgrading from my two by fours and plywood workbench that I made 20 years ago. I want kind of a hybrid hand tool power tool workbench. I have an 8 foot section of 2 inch oak that’s 24 inches wide that I salvaged from my basement and I want to use that for the bench. My question is, I think I only have enough for a top or for the base, meaning I would make the rest of the bench out of some cheaper materials like white pine or something. If I use the oak for the top will bench be top-heavy and tippy? I’ve also seen others recommending that using a softer wood for the top is beneficial because it gets dinged up instead of your project. What’s the collective wisdom on this?

We bought a portable basketball net for our kids and their friends on the street to use. We live next to the street’s “bylaw neighbors” and have made sure that the net has been set back appropriately from the road, yada yada yada.
The issue is that our lawn isn’t the most level and we didn’t buy the most top of the line net because we don’t have $500 to spare on this. Wide base + lumpy lawn = wobbly/leaning net even when weighted down.
If we were to dig a 1 inch deep rectangle in our lawn (this would be in the right of way) and level it with some pea gravel, and set the base on that, would the net still be considered portable and not permanently installed? We obviously intend to take it down before the snow flies in the fall and store it in our garage over the winter.
I just don’t want bylaw to show up at our door issuing tickets because our neighbors have called.

https://youtu.be/73j6vM84lHk
In the tranquil town of Ravenswood, where the scent of autumn leaves hung in the air, the Thompson family embarked on a new chapter of their lives. Mr. Thompson, a history enthusiast, had long been captivated by the charm of old Victorian houses, and he couldn't resist the allure of the one that stood grandly on Oakwood Avenue.
As they unloaded their belongings, the Thompsons marveled at the intricate architecture and the faded elegance of their new home. Each room held echoes of the past, whispering stories of long-forgotten occupants. Little did they know, the darkest secrets lay hidden within the confines of their own walls.
It was on a rainy afternoon, as Mr. Thompson explored the musty attic, that he stumbled upon the mirror. Covered in a thin layer of dust, it seemed to beckon to him from a forgotten corner. Intricate carvings adorned its wooden frame, and the glass surface shimmered with an otherworldly sheen.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he reached out to touch it, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns. As his gaze met his reflection, a shiver ran down his spine. For a brief moment, he thought he saw movement within the mirror—a shadow flitting across its surface. But when he blinked, the reflection returned to normal, leaving him with a sense of unease.
Eager to share his discovery, Mr. Thompson called his wife, Mrs. Thompson, and their two children, Emma and Daniel, to the attic. Their eyes widened in awe as they took in the mirror's magnificence. Mrs. Thompson, a woman with an intuitive nature, couldn't help but feel a strange energy emanating from the antique glass.
Emma, a curious and imaginative girl with a penchant for mystery, stood before the mirror, captivated by her own reflection. As she peered into its depths, she felt a whisper of a breeze caress her cheek, as if the mirror itself were alive, whispering secrets that only she could hear.
Daniel, a pragmatic young boy with a scientific mind, observed the mirror with a skeptical frown. He dismissed the fleeting feeling of discomfort that washed over him, attributing it to the eerie ambiance of the attic.
Little did they know, the mirror held a sinister power—a conduit to an unseen realm, where the whispers of lost souls echoed through time. It had long hungered for new victims, craving the chaos and despair that its secrets could unleash.
As the Thompsons settled into their new home, hints of the mirror's influence began to seep into their lives. Shadows danced at the corners of their vision, disappearing when they turned to look. Faint murmurs echoed through empty hallways, like voices carried on a phantom breeze.
Mrs. Thompson, sensitive to the supernatural, noticed subtle changes in their behavior. Dreams grew more vivid, filled with nightmarish visions that seemed to spill into the waking world. Each family member experienced an unexplained restlessness, an underlying unease that gnawed at their minds.
Yet, despite these subtle disturbances, the Thompsons remained oblivious to the true nature of the mirror's power. They brushed off the unsettling occurrences as mere coincidences, attributing them to the quirks of an old house.
Little did they know that their lives were about to take a dark turn, that the mirror's whispers would grow in intensity, slowly unraveling their sanity, and plunging them into a nightmarish descent into madness.
The stage was set, and the Thompsons were unwitting players in a sinister game, where the stakes were their very souls. The mirror's whispers, though faint at first, were just the beginning of a chilling journey that would test the limits of their courage and resilience.
As the days turned into weeks, the Thompsons' fascination with the antique mirror transformed into something far more sinister. The mirror's whispers, initially faint and barely noticeable, began to weave their way into the fabric of their lives, ensnaring their minds in a web of dark secrets.
Emma, the imaginative and impressionable daughter, found herself irresistibly drawn to the mirror. Its ethereal whispers called to her, promising secrets and forbidden knowledge. Night after night, she stood before the mirror, her wide eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
In the dead of night, as Emma stared into the mirror's depths, she saw fleeting glimpses of tortured souls trapped within its glass. Their anguished faces contorted with pain, their silent pleas for release echoing in her mind. The whispers grew louder, their chilling words slipping between the cracks of her sanity.
Mrs. Thompson, a woman with a keen intuition, sensed a growing darkness within the house. Shadows seemed to dance with a malevolent energy, and a pervasive sense of unease settled over the family. She couldn't shake the feeling that the mirror held a secret, a secret that threatened to consume them all.
One evening, while the rest of the family was asleep, Mrs. Thompson tiptoed down to the parlor. She stood before the mirror, her reflection distorted by the warped glass. Her hand trembling, she reached out to touch the mirror's surface, hoping to unlock its mysteries.
In that moment, the mirror's whispers intensified, like a cacophony of tormented souls clawing at the edges of her consciousness. The words seared into her mind, revealing horrifying truths she could never have imagined. Her eyes widened with terror as the mirror unveiled the dark history of the house and the tragic fates of its previous inhabitants.
Desperate to protect her family, Mrs. Thompson confronted the mirror, her voice quivering with determination. She demanded that it release its hold, that it relinquish its malevolent power. But the mirror, fueled by its own wicked desires, only responded with mocking whispers, taunting her with the knowledge that there was no escape.
Daniel, the pragmatic and rational son, had always dismissed the mirror's whispers as mere superstition. He approached the situation with a scientific mindset, researching the psychology behind illusions and hallucinations. But as the mirror's influence grew, its whispers burrowed deep into his subconscious, chipping away at his rationality.
In his dreams, Daniel encountered a nightmarish realm where reality blurred and nightmares came to life. Dark figures lurked in the shadows, their menacing presence sending chills down his spine. The whispers seeped into his thoughts, distorting his perception of the world, blurring the line between what was real and what was imagined.
The once-harmonious Thompson household became a battleground of fear and paranoia. The mirror's whispers, like tendrils of darkness, wrapped around their minds, slowly driving them to the brink of madness. Each family member felt the weight of their own fears and secrets amplified by the mirror's malevolence.
It was a relentless pursuit, a race against time as the Thompsons fought desperately to break free from the mirror's haunting grip. They sought out experts in the occult, delved into ancient texts, and performed rituals in a desperate bid to sever their connection to the mirror.
But the mirror, fueled by a centuries-old malevolence, defied their every attempt. Its whispers grew stronger, more insidious, refusing to be silenced. The family teetered on the edge of despair, their minds unraveling under the weight of the mirror's secrets.
The Thompsons found themselves standing at the precipice of their own sanity.
Their pursuit had only deepened their desperation, their confrontation with the mirror looming like an impending doom. They had glimpsed the true face of the mirror's evil, and they knew that only a breakthrough, a glimmer of hope, could save them from the abyss that awaited.
In the face of the mirror's unrelenting whispers, the Thompsons refused to surrender to the encroaching darkness. This would test their resolve, as they prepared for the final confrontation with the malevolent mirror and the price they would have to pay for victory.
Driven by desperation, the Thompsons sought out a renowned paranormal expert, Professor Benjamin Hartley. With a lifetime of experience in dealing with the supernatural, The family poured their hopes into his expertise, believing he held the key to their salvation.
The Thompsons and Professor Hartley gathered in the parlor, where the mirror stood like a portal to another realm. They surrounded themselves with ancient relics, protective talismans, and whispered incantations. The air crackled with anticipation as they began the ritual to cleanse the mirror of its malevolence.
But as their voices rose in unison, a sinister energy permeated the room, twisting the words of the incantation into a mockery of their intentions. The mirror's surface seemed to ripple, as if laughing at their futile attempts to break free from its grasp.
Doubt gnawed at their hearts, but the Thompsons refused to yield. They delved deeper into forbidden knowledge, desperate to uncover the mirror's weakness. Guided by Professor Hartley's expertise, they unearthed an ancient chant—a potent spell that had the power to banish even the most malevolent spirits.
With trembling voices, they recited the incantation, their words infused with determination and a glimmer of hope. A surge of energy pulsed through the room, swirling around the mirror like a tempest. For a brief moment, it seemed as if their efforts had succeeded—the mirror's whispers silenced, its malevolence contained.
But their victory proved short-lived.
As the silence settled, a low, guttural laughter resonated from within the mirror. The surface cracked, revealing a sinister, smirking face—a manifestation of the mirror's evil. It spoke with a voice that dripped with malice, taunting them with their futile attempts to defy its power.
They exchanged desperate glances. The mirror had defied their every expectation, its malevolence growing stronger with each passing moment. It was no ordinary haunted object—they were dealing with a force beyond their comprehension.
With a renewed determination, the Thompsons made a pact to confront the mirror head-on. They armed themselves with courage, ready to face the consequences of their actions. They knew that to break free from the mirror's haunting grip, they had to confront their deepest fears and unravel the mirror's dark secrets.
Guided by Professor Hartley's wisdom, they entered a nightmarish realm within the mirror—a twisted reflection of their own fears and regrets. The air crackled with an otherworldly energy as they navigated a labyrinth of horrors, each step bringing them closer to the heart of the mirror's power.
The mirror's whispers swirled around them, twisting their thoughts and sowing seeds of doubt. Yet, the Thompsons pressed forward, their love for one another and their determination to protect their family acting as a shield against the mirror's influence.
Finally, they reached the heart of the mirror—an ethereal chamber where the mirror's true essence lay. Its whispers, now a cacophony of tortured souls, echoed through the chamber, threatening to shatter their resolve.
In a moment of clarity, Mrs. Thompson stepped forward, her voice resonating with unwavering strength. She confronted the mirror, demanding it release its grip on their lives. With a defiant gaze, she cast aside her own fears and regrets, refusing to be consumed by the mirror's darkness.
The mirror trembled, its surface flickering with uncertainty. The Thompsons stood united, their unwavering determination causing the mirror's power to falter. Inch by inch, they chipped away at its malevolence, exposing its vulnerability.
In a final act of sacrifice, Mr. Thompson stepped forward, offering himself as a conduit to absorb the mirror's malevolence. With a surge of energy, he absorbed the mirror's whispers and secrets, his body contorting under the weight of its darkness.
The chamber erupted in blinding light as the mirror shattered, its power broken. In the aftermath, the Thompsons stood, battered but triumphant. They had paid the price of victory, but their family remained intact.
As they emerged from the shattered mirror, the house stood bathed in a newfound light. The shadows receded, and a sense of peace settled over the once-haunted Victorian house. The mirror's whispers had been silenced, its secrets locked away forever.
The Thompsons, forever changed by their harrowing ordeal. They had faced their darkest fears and emerged stronger, ready to embrace the future with newfound courage. And as they moved forward, the whispers of the mirror would forever serve as a reminder of the darkness they had overcome, a testament to the strength of the human spirit in the face of unimaginable horrors.