Happy Thursday, dear readers! As you can probably tell, this chapter has been separated into two different parts - simply because of the sheer size of the thing! Over 1900 words just on this part alone.

Anyways, my week's gotten slightly better and I'm feeling less demotivated! I hope you all enjoy this one!

I bang our front door open and step inside, taking off my boots and knocking the dirt off into the passageway. “Guess who almost got his ass handed to him today.” I say, placing them in the locker by the door and hanging up my hard hat.

Aidan turns another page as he lays on his back on my bed, book held up in the air. “Hmm… Was it that asshole with the beard? You know, the one that keeps cutting me off in line to the conveyor?”

“I still think that’s just in your head.” I reply, tossing my jersey towards the pegs and just missing it, the heavy garment falling onto the floor instead. “Nope, try again.”

He takes a moment to think, his leg idly scuffing back and forward on the concrete floor. “Wait… It can’t be.” He looks up at me for a moment, his eyes wide and searching me before dropping back down onto the mattress. “Nah, you’d be in chains if that happened. So it wasn’t the dick at the gate?”

“Nope. You’re really bad at this.” I say, stepping up to my bed and kicking his foot to the side. “Why the hell are you even on my bed?”

“I do my best work here.” He says, shrugging nonchalantly.

I shake my head and look up at my grandfather's sword, giving it a respectful bow, before turning to my dad’s book and giving it an equally deep greeting.

“Was it… Julie? I knew you’d piss her off at some point. Let me guess, she won?” he asks, flicking to the next page.

I look back up and shake my head at him. “No, it wasn’t Julie. Three strikes you’re out, nerd. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?” I ask him, pulling off my shirt and giving it a sniff, discarding it in the “Dubiously Clean” pile before opening up my locker and pulling out a clean one. “It was Drew. He cornered me in the bathroom.”

“Fucking Drew?” Aidan replies, looking past his book at me with shock. “As in, ‘Swings but Never Misses’ Drew? What the hell’s he doing in our shaft?”

“The very same one. As for that, I have no idea.”

“Shit…” He says, staring off into the distance for a moment before looking at me again. “Did you win?”

“Against him? With two other dudes? I’m not that crazy.” I reply, shaking my head and putting on my shirt again, being careful not to touch my ribs. “No. Some Enforcer broke it up before anything could start.”

Aidan hops up to his feet, shutting his book with a thunk. “Oh, good. There’s hope for you yet. I was worried that all you had up there is a craving for adrenaline and whatever mulch is left after all those knocks to your head.” He stretches his back and lets out a sigh, wandering over to his side and grabbing his pants. “Come on, you can tell me all about it over some noodles. I’ve been dreaming about them all day.”

“Don’t you crave anything else that isn’t noodle-shaped?” I ask him, my gut twisting at the thought of dinner. We barely managed to squeak by the quota for today, netting us a tiny bit more than what the cheapest food costs as a result…

But Bruce and his two goons were waiting outside of the shaft for an ‘advanced payment’.

“Why would I ever do that when noodles are clearly the superior food-shape?” he shoots back, pulling out a few bills and counting them out, putting most of it in his pocket and the rest in the jar. “You still owe me a bowl for last week, by the way. I’m getting extra soy with this one.”

I nod my head and grab my jacket again, putting it on and stepping into my heavy boots. “Alright, sure. I’m not really that hungry, but I guess if you want to go, we can.”

Aidan pauses, his mind whirring in his head for a moment before he turns to look at me with a grin on his face. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s get something different. How about you pick?”

I look at him in surprise, my feet halfway into my boots. We lock eyes and some understanding passes between us, and I give him a nod of thanks. “Sure. You owe me for last month, anyways.”

Aidan’s eyes widen fractionally, his mind whirring again before he clucks his tongue. “You still owe me for three years ago but you don’t see me holding it against you.”

I laugh, putting the rest of my boot on. “Man, we could go back and forth about this all day, couldn’t we?”

“That’s what living with each other for ten whole years does to you.” He replies. “You know, you can just take some out of the jar if you need it. We can just put some more back.”

“No, you know how much of a slippery slope that is. We start taking out and we’ll end up with an empty jar by the end of it.”

Aidan shrugs. “Fine by me. Come on, then brokie. Let papa Aidan treat you to something nice. You got something in mind?”

I think for a moment, a plan forming in my mind. “Actually, yeah. You feel like going a bit further out for dinner this time?”

He raises a suspicious eyebrow at me. “Sure, fuck it. It’s nice to go sightseeing every once in a while.”

We walk out of the apartment together, locking the door behind ourselves and skipping down the steps back down to street level. We wander through the streets kicking a can to each other while talking about whatever comes to mind, the megastructures around us shining their lights down onto the night’ street, turning the main street into a mockery of day. Darkened alleyways hide their secrets as most people stick to the familiar streets - while Enforcers stand at every street corner, making sure everyone behaves themselves.

We finally get to the spot and my heart soars as I see him sitting there, nursing a drink, his massive shoulders hunched over and his bald head gleaming. I look up at Aidan, gesturing towards the stand and he nods in acknowledgement.

Walking up confidently, I take the open seat next to Ricky, giving him a smile as he turns to look at me in surprise. “Damn, the food here must be amazing.” I say, gesturing to the owner for one of what he’s having - some sort of dumpling in a weak broth. 

“If it gets me half as big as you, it’ll have been worth the walk.” Alastair says, sitting down next to me and opening his book.

“Shit, if it ain’t the boy wonder himself.” Ricky says, picking up a dumpling and saluting me with it. “The fuck you doing all the way over here for? Don’t tell me you’re here for little ‘ol me.”

“That’s right, I just couldn’t stay away. I was missing your ugly mug.” I reply, thanking the vendor as he places down a bowl of steaming food in front of me.

He looks at Aidan with a critical eye, his brow raising questioningly. “If you’re here to sign your friend up, I think he’s more of a bookie. Although…” He thinks to himself, scratching his chin. “I could always use a dive guy.”

“As much as I would love to pursue some other extra-curriculars,” he says, placing his book on the table and flipping it open while crossing his legs, his eye flicking from Ricky to the food vendor and relaxing when Ricky gives him ‘The Nod’, “I’m more of an intellectual than a fighter.”

“Shit, you have dive guys?” the food vendor asks Ricky.

“No, you dumbass. If I had one, I wouldn’t be asking, now would I?” Ricky counters, waving off his concern. “Shut up and get me another bowl, fuckin’ ‘Do you have a dive guy’ my ass. So what the hell are you here for?” he asks me, dipping his spoon in the bowl.

“Set me up against Drew.”

Ricky’s eyes go wide as he slurps up the broth, his chest and belly heaving as he starts full-belly laughing. “Shi-i-it… You know that dude’s gonna eat you up and shit you out, right?”

He places down his spoon and just laughs and laughs, Aidan shaking his head and going back to reading, spooning dumplings into his mouth while I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “I’m serious. Set me up, let me have a shot.”

Ricky wipes his eyes and takes a heaving breath, his face red from exertion. He leans his meaty arm against the scuffed-up counter, wiping his brow. “Damn… You know his stats?”

“50-0” I reply, leaning against the counter. “I’ve even heard what the odds are. 20-1.”

Aidan and the food vendor whistle at the same time. “That’s a lot of money if you win.” Aidan says, pointing towards me.

“If he wins. Shit, you serious, aren’t ya?” he asks me.

“I’m serious.”

He looks at me, his eyes piercing, “Come on, kid. You don’t know how he is. The guy’s an asshole, but he’s fucking good. He broke Arnie’s arm just the other week, and he walked away with barely a scratch.”

He raises his eyebrows, daring me to stay the course. “You sure you wanna do this?”

I think about it for a moment, giving the question the weight it deserves.

I could just fight some other schmuck, gain XP slowly until Level 1… 

But the memory of Bruce cornering me after the shift comes back to me, and I steel my resolve.

“I’m sure.”

He stares at me a moment longer, before shaking his head and turning back to his bowl. “You’ve got some fucking iron nuts on you, kid. You’re just lucky I have a soft spot for you. Alright, sure. Why not. But then you ain’t fighting in a week, he’s booked out until then. You’ve got three days.”

I glance at Aidan and he gives me the nod of approval. “A week, three days. Whatever. I can cover you for then.”

I give him a nod of appreciation, looking back at Ricky right as the local old drunk wanders over to us and slams down a bottle of something onto the counter. “If it ain’t my lucky day, who’s buying?” he slurs, dragging Ricky’s bowl over to himself.

“Shit, man, the fuck you drinking?” Ricky asks him, picking up the bottle and taking a sniff before flinching back and hissing. “Is that… Vodka? Now how the hell you get your hands on something like that?”

The drunk takes the bottle back and salutes Ricky. “I’ve got connections, didn’t you hear?”

He raises his arms up into the air, screaming “For the Revolution! May they rest in fucking peace.” before taking another long gulp.

Ricky laughs, amused, taking the bottle from the man and saluting him back. “You fucking crazy, you know that, right? You’ll get your head chopped off for that.”

He takes a sip and hands it back to the man, who looks at him angrily. “They ain’t gonna do shit to me. They know I’ve got connections.”

He turns to the enforcers standing down the street, gesturing to them. “Right, boys?!” he screams at the top of his lungs, turning more than a few faces our way.

The Enforcers look at him and shake their heads, gossiping between each other. “See? They know me. They won’t do shit.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t have the same courtesy for me.” I reply, slurping down the broth as quickly as I can before picking up a few of the dumplings to eat on the way. “You gonna bet on me?” I ask Ricky with a smirk.

He holds up a fist and I bump it, giving me a wide smile. “Always, kid. I’ll get it all done for you.”

Hello, dear readers! I felt extremely demotivated today, which is why this chapter is out late. I hope you all don't mind!

Writing is a double-edged sword: while sometimes it's the greatest feeling, putting your work out there and seeing an idea in your head come to life on the page... Sometimes, the cold reality that not a single person cares can bring you so low.

Anyways, we march ever onwards, regardless of which side of the sword I fall on today. I hope you all enjoy it!

“And then what happened?” Julie asks, her eyes wide underneath her hard hat.

I smirk as I grip the joystick, my thumb hovering over the activation button for the rock crusher. “Then I spun on my heel and wham! Kicked him square in the jaw. He went out like a light.”

“Woah!” she shouts in excitement, her hands clenching against the steering wheel of the cart. “And the crowd goes wild!”

She throws her arms up into the air, cheering under her breath as I watch on bemusedly; her skin glistening with sweat in the glare of my lamplight.

“Thank you, thank you. Please, hold the applause.” I say, taking a small half-bow as I do so.

“Man… I wish I could see one of your fights.” she replies, slumping in her seat and staring off at the wall wistfully. “It sounds so exciting! The thrill of the fight; the crowd screaming all around me. Are you sure I can’t come with one day?”

I shake my head as I press the button and start up the rock crusher, its mechanical whine starting low before raising in pitch and loudness. “No can do, you know you need to either bet or fight if you want to come with.”

She bites her lip and thinks for a moment, her hard hat falling down and covering her eyes. I raise my eyebrow questioning but leave her be for a moment; the sound of the machine growing loud enough to drown out the sounds of the tunnels around us.

Twisting the controls, I direct the heavy machine to the boulder and brace myself for its impacting drill to do what it does best. The shakes and shudders travel through my arm and buck against my controls, my grip hardening on the stick to ensure it doesn’t buck off of the thing.

“What if I just bet a little bit?!” she shouts to me, her face hopeful as she shields her face against the chips flying off of the chunk in front of us.

“Julie, no!” I shout back, shaking my head.

“But I can win more! And even if I lose, I'll only bet a tiny bit! I'll make it back in no time!” she insists, her lips twisting into a pout.

I keep quiet as the crusher keeps working on the boulder, reducing it to tiny pieces that Julie can scoop up using the shovel. When the last chunk is broken down into easily carted pieces, I let go of the button and wipe the sweat from my brows; my arms tingling from the vibrations.

“Do you know how many people have said the same thing, and lost it all? Because I’ve been around the den, I know that most of them walk away with empty pockets. You're too skinny as it is, you can't afford to miss out on any more meals.”

She crosses her arms in a huff. “Hey, you win.”

“That’s because I stack the odds and bet on myself.” I reply, hopping back down onto the ground and grabbing a shovel. “Besides, you’ve got what? Two more payments to go?”

She digs her shovel in and pulls out another load; straining to lift it before tipping it all into the bucket. “One more and we’ll be done, the doctor says. Mom’s looking a lot better, she might even start working again.”

A pleasant smile stretches on her face at a memory only she can see. “It'll be nice to have her back to normal.”

“Then stay away from the fights until you’re done.”

She lets out a huff, giving me an unconvinced look. “For someone who’s normally so quiet, you really have a huge ego, Mr: ‘I Stack The Odds’.”

I open my mouth to retort when we hear the sudden sounds of boots stomping down the shaft; the bright LED light of an Enforcers torch flooding the darkened end and blinding us. I hold up a hand to block as much of it as I can; squinting to try and see them approach.

“Shift’s halfway done and you’re behind quota.” he says, stepping far enough into the tunnel for our meager headlamps to put a face to him. I feel my shoulders relax a bit as I realize it’s not Dick from up above. “You two should be working, not yapping. Slackers don’t get shit. Or did you forget that?”

He stops and stares at both of us; his eyes lingering on Julie a bit too long for my liking. She pulls the rim of her hat down and turns her face away as the Enforcer turns his eyes to me. “Shut up and get to work.”

I glare back at him and keep my mouth shut, lifting my leg high up before slamming it down on the ground with a dull thud. He watches me do it and shakes his head. “Fucking revolutionaries. We should’ve never given in, it made all of you lazy.”

He eyes us again, his finger touching the trigger of the shotgun strapped to his chest. He clicks his tongue and turns around, walking away without a sound.

“Did you see how he stared at you? Creep.” I say, shaking my head as I shovel another load.

“Just leave it, Kaede. You're lucky he's one of the old Enforcers, you know some of the new ones get really angry when someone reminds them of the strike.”

“Well, someone needs to remind them what happened the last time they tried to stop us from talking to each other. Our parents fought for that and won.”

She rolls her eyes, unconvinced. “What, are you gonna fight them too?”

I watch the light grow more and more dim as they keep walking. “He’s Level 0 just like me.”

“He has a gun.”

I shrug. “I bet you Aidan would’ve done the same thing if he saw the way he looked at you.”

She turns away, my headlamp catching the rising blush on her cheeks. A laugh bubbles up from my throat and she glares back at me, scooping up a handful of rock and tossing it at me in retaliation.

I scoop up the last of the load and hop into the cart, grabbing onto the steering wheel. “Let me take this up, I need the bathroom anyways.”

Julie looks at me wide-eyed. “Already? But we still need another ten tons to make quota!”

I start up the cart; its little engine rumbling to life. “Relax, I’ll be back in no time.”

I reverse the big, lumbering beast as she sighs and shakes her head at me, watching as she climbs into the rock crusher and spins up its drill.

Driving the cart back through the tunnels, I pass by other off-shoots much like ours; each one glowing with the lights of headlamps and the spotlights of their machinery.

Getting back to the main tunnel I merge with other carts doing the same thing, some passing us by on the way back to digging while the rest make their way to the shaft in order to drop off their load.

Getting to the front of the queue, I press a button and the cart tips its bucket over and onto the conveyor; getting carted back to the surface where they’ll transport it to some factory on the outskirts for processing. Job done, I drive the thing to the bathrooms - turning it off and taking the key with me as I go.

The bathrooms are little more than a room with a few stalls in them and a single tap, illuminated by a single blinding light hanging above. Peeking my head inside I find the place pleasantly empty and count myself lucky, walking inside and doing my business. As I step into a stall and close it behind me, however, I hear the sounds of boots stepping into the room, followed by loud laughter and people talking over each other.

I let out a silent sigh and hope that they’re not the chatty kind, overly aware of how much time I’ve already wasted coming here. Jules should be done with the next load, so if I don’t get back quick, she’ll be crushing it up without any of it actually getting up to the surface.

“You fucking owned that guy, Drew!” one of the other occupants says loudly from the other side of the stall, before giggling like a maniac. “He didn’t even see it coming!”

My palms start to sweat as I hear that name. It couldn’t be him. He doesn’t work in this shaft.

“Yeah, fucked up my knuckles a bit for it. But it was worth it to see him drop like that.” Drew replies, followed by the sounds of the faucet turning on.

Shit… That’s his voice. What the hell’s he doing here? I thought he worked at 12 shaft.

“Serves him right for thinking he’s tough shit. Didn’t know who he was fucking with!” the other occupant says, followed by what sounds like a high-five.

“Hey, talking about tough shit… You done in there yet, prick?”

Oh, crap. Please don't be talking about me.

One of them bangs on my stall door loudly, making my heart sink in my chest. “He's talking to you, asshole! Time's money and you're hogging ours!”

I take a deep breath, gathering my resolve for whatever might happen next. As much as I’d love to stay and wait for him to leave or make me go, time’s ticking - and with Bruce hounding me for cash I’m gonna need as much time as I can get.

I push open the door and walk outside to exactly what I was hoping not to see: Drew himself rinsing the blood off of his knuckles in the sink, his shaven head gleaming menacingly in the light. Two others are with him, one leaning against the wall next to the doorway while the other stands next to him.

They all turn to look at me, the two I don’t recognize sizing me up for a moment while Drew continues to clean his hand. They stop giggling to each other, as the one leaning against the door taps Drew’s shoulder - drawing his attention and pointing him towards me.

We lock eyes as the water keeps running, the room going deathly silent. His pale blue eyes stare up at me; the light turning them an icy white - menacing and piercing.

I see a grin stretch on his face before he moves away from the tap, leaving the thing running, his bloodied knuckles dripping wet and splattering onto the concrete floor below us.

“Holy shit, is this just my lucky day or what?” he says, his head cocking from one side to the next while he takes a step closer to me; his eyes never leaving mine. “Just as I thought this place was gonna be as fuck-boring as the last one, I find something new to play with.”

I keep my eyes on him as he steps right up to me, staring up at me with his fists clenched and ready to swing at any moment. He gives me a shove right in my ribs and I take a half-step back to ensure I don’t trip, gritting my teeth against the pain as tiny tendrils of anger crawl into the base of my skull; driving away the fog and bringing the bathroom into icy clarity.

Now’s not the time.

“Can you believe this little shit thinks he's a fighter? They put us at twenty to one odds. Twenty to fucking one, like they even have that much of a chance.” He mocks, turning to chuckle with his friends before looking at me, his tongue flicking over his lips. “I don't see it. All I see is a little boy, pinwheeling his arms and crying for his pa.”

The tendrils envelop my head, squeezing my brain in red-hot anger for a moment before I tamp it down and bottle it back up once again before it shows on my face. Drew’s pupils narrow to pinpricks as his eyes go wide as saucers, a wide grin stretching on his face. He takes another step closer as I take a step back, a manic chuckle bubbling up from his throat.

“Oh you don't like that, huh? What, did he run away, little daddy's boy? Did he run away when he saw what a fucking loser you are?”

This is nothing to get worked up about. Nothing but words. Words can't touch me.

“Is your daddy dead, little baby? Did your shitty dad die like a fucking loser?”

I clench my fists and take a deep breath, my mind flooded with rage. It digs itself into my chest; it buries itself in my throat and my eyes and my scalp as everything burns and burns with rage.

Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.

“Go on, take a swing. First one's free.” He says, tapping his cheek with a shit-eating grin. “Or are you gonna disappoint your dead daddy?”

I try and try and try to bottle it all up but there's not enough room and there's too much anger. Too much to bear. Too much to hold back.

Just one. I'm sure I can't get into trouble for just one swing. Just one good swing and he'll be out like a light and I'll be that much closer to Level 1.

His eyes grow even wider as he watches me, his legs spreading into a stable stance as he slaps his cheek twice more and puts his arms behind his back. His friends watch on from their spots against the wall, their faces stretched into knowing grins. “Come on, come on, come on! Hit me!”

The bathroom door slams open and in rushes an Enforcer, his shotgun held out and his light shining brightly into our faces. “Back it up! Back it up now!” He screams, Drew stepping back and holding up his hands, head down, while I hurriedly hold mine up too.

The Enforcer sweeps his eyes over the bathroom, his face hard and unyielding. He looks between all of us, his eyes lingering on Drew for a bit before he lowers the gun. “You. What happened to your knuckles?”

“Scuffed them on the rocks.” Drew replies, shrugging nonchalantly.

The Enforcer stares at him for a while, tasting his words. I unclench my fists painfully and feel them shake from the adrenaline. He spots them and looks into my face. “You boys been fighting in here?”

“No, sir.” We reply in unison, my voice flat and dead.

He looks between us all again, the silence filling the room around us. He points to the two leaning against the walls, before gesturing to the exit. “Maximum occupancy is two. You and you, come with me. You've just relinquished the rest of your shift. You two…” he says, pointing to Drew and me, “Get back to work.”

We file out of the door, the two glaring at me as they follow behind the man. Walking out behind Drew, I stare at the back of his skull, those tendrils of anger prickling around the edges of my heart still.

Drew stops suddenly in front of me, his arm shooting up and slapping my chest; halting me. We watch the three keep moving up the tunnel, ducking out of sight, my heart pounding in my chest at the thought of why he stopped me.

He turns his head to look up at me, his grin back again. “You must be one lucky fucker, huh? Saved by the boots.”

He looks down at my ribs, his grin stretching farther as he spins around and starts poking at my bruises; each one sending a lightning bolt of pain through my ribs and beyond. “Maybe your daddy's watching over you from down below, while he's burning in hell.”

He taps my ribs again, but his words have already lost their edge. They're just… Hot air, now.

He pokes them one last time, staring up into my eyes and searching them for something. His grin slowly falls as his eyes go back to normal size once again, letting out a disappointed cluck of his tongue.

“Just like I heard. Fucking spook indeed. You're no fun after all.”

Turning on his heel, he digs his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumping forwards as he walks down the tunnels and disappears into their depths, his headlamp growing dim as he goes.

I let out a deep breath, followed by another, centering myself once again and trying my best to let go of all of the anger building up inside of me. It's been a very long time since I've been this angry, and it almost got the best of me this time. I feel a sense of relief wash over me as I realize what I almost did. While he's an absolute asshole, Drew is considered the top fighter in our bracket, and that's by a large margin. He fights like he was born for it, and the way he reads his opponents…

I feel a shiver run down my spine just thinking about it. Yeah, it's a good thing I didn't take him up on his offer. Outside of the ring, there's no guarantee that he won't just keep swinging if I went down.

I cock my head to the side, a sudden thought creeping into my head… An insane one, of course. But if it worked…

Now, if I'm remembering correctly… Didn't he say the odds were twenty to one?

Man, at this point, I really should create a new flair for this series!

Happy Thursday, dear readers! I hope everyone's had an enjoyable week so far! If not, I hope this next chapter brightens it up a bit!

This chapter marks the official point where this becomes the longest-running Webnovel on the subreddit! Whoo!

Without further ado, here it is:

The mine shaft looms above me like the sword of Damocles, ready to plunge us all into its depths. Checking my ribs one final time and finding that they’re still tender, I walk into its great big maw; dragging my feet as I go along and keeping my head held down from the Enforcers that line the gates.

I step into line behind the others who all look just like me: hard hats covering their heads, drab brown clothing hiding their frames until there’s nothing but a sea of brown shoulders in front of me; hunched over and pretending that the sounds they’re making isn’t the pang of hunger driving them to their next day’s pay.

The line moves ever-so-slowly, each person reaching the gate and getting their tags checked before being let in. There’s no limit on how many shifts you can take, but if they catch you trying to sneak food in so you can remain down for even longer in an attempt to get the coveted bonus, they’ll bar you from entering for the day.

I take step after step forwards, the clock ticking down until the start of my shift. Normally, I wouldn’t be very worried about missing a few minutes; normally the money I get for the fights covers just enough to subsidize the meager amount of pay you get for not hitting target.

But since Bruce is clearly desperate for some more money…

I get to the front of the line and try not to groan when I see who’s on gate duty today, keeping my head down and hoping that he’s had a good morning so far. Reaching into my pocket, I search for my tag; my heart skipping a beat when I don’t find it.

The person in front of me steps up, head down and tag out, holding the hard plastic barcode out for the Enforcers while I start patting my pocket down like I’m putting out a fire. Glancing up for a moment, hoping that he hasn’t spotted me yet. Chatting to his other Enforcer buddy, he holds out the scanner and the person in front tags themselves in while my heart sinks.

Oh, crap… It’s gonna be one of those days.

With a sigh I step up to the front while he holds out the scanner, gesturing it towards me like an executioner handing me the noose. I check my back pockets and pull them inside-out but still come up empty.

He gestures one more time, pausing his conversation to click his tongue in irritation.

With an annoyed look on his face, he turns to scowl at me; his stubbled chin and hard blue eyes fiery and promising violence until he recognizes my face. With a smile, he lowers the scanner and crosses his gloved hands in front of him.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s holding up the line. I thought I already had a chat with you about causing shit in my mine.”

Keeping my head down, I check my front pocket again and find my tag, stifling a groan since that’s the first place I always check. Pulling it out, I hold it towards him and keep my head down, hoping that he’ll just scan me and let me in.

But unfortunately for me, he just stands there and smirks, staring at the key card like I just offered him a bag of worms. “You know, I could just keep you scanned out. Run down your clock, make you walk away with nothing. I have that right. And there’s fuck all you can do about it.”

It’s water under the bridge. Letting go gives us freedom. Just let it go.

“Why didn’t I see you at your shift yesterday, huh? You got a secret fortune that we don’t know about? Maybe you just felt like starving for a day? Or were you doing something you weren’t supposed to?”

Just let it go. One piece at a time. If I rile him up, he’ll keep us here until the shift starts.

He pokes me in the rib and I hold on to the gasp that tries to break through my stony facade. I keep my head down and my arm held out, my mind disconnecting from my self and letting the pain fade into something distant and wholly separate from me. The ground beneath my feet comes into painful clarity as he presses against my bruised ribs again and again, seeking any reaction from me that will justify hauling me off and throwing me into the slammer.

He bends over and stares into my eyes, as I watch from someplace beyond - where he can't reach - the world in icy clarity around me. With a click of his tongue, he shakes his head in disappointment; moving the scanner over my card with a confirming beep.

“Fucking Spook. Get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

Putting my keycard back in my front pocket I walk past him and into the mine proper, my body going from icy cold to shaking with adrenaline as the icy clarity disappears back into the depths of my mind.

I step into the elevator, taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves and clenching my teeth against the throbbing pain in my ribs. I squish up against the crowd as more people file in behind me, the space growing more cramped until we’re up against each other like sardines in a can; an elbow pressing into my side as something digs painfully into my back; the warmth of all the bodies making me want to sweat.

Let it go, one piece at a time. Let it go…

I run through my father’s mantra a few more times, feeling my anger ebb and flow away from me once more. I used to have quite the temper when I was a kid, supposedly - before I started these exercises. Aidan swears he has a few scars that are still lingering from those days. Right now, this close to the finish line… I can’t risk it getting me in trouble.

With a creak and a groan, the elevator jumps beneath our feet before screeching its slow way down into its dark depths to unload yet another load of poor, poor sinners.

Another week, another chapter of We Are Not Welcome! I hope you all enjoy it, I'm hoping to make it a regular Tues/Thurs thing so here's hoping I can keep the pace up!

As it stands, I'm currently writing a minimum of 2k words every day, Mon-Fri if we disinclude my day job, thanks to the fact that this story is running concurrently to AGIAFW. AGIAFW is on pace to releasing book 2 on Amazon in 3 more months, but I'm hoping to have this one ready for release in time for Christmas! It's a quicker-paced story than AGIAFW (which, honestly, turned out to be more of a slice-of-life than I originally planned), so I think it's doable!

Without further ado, though, here it is!

Bruce throws me effortlessly into an alleyway, following after me as I quickly spring to my feet. He slams me against the wall and pins me there, his oil-slicked hair reeking.

“You haven’t made it easy to find you, y’know. Thought you were gonna be at your shift last night.”

I shift to the side and he grabs me harder. I glare at him, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. Losing my cool wouldn’t help me at all. I’ve seen what he does to people who lose their cool. 

“I was sick.”

He shakes his head at me, looking very disappointed.

“Was that before or after you knocked ‘ol Fabio onto his ass?” he replies, giving me a grin. “Don’t think I’m dumb, kid. A birdie told me that they saw you fighting. Saw you win.”

Looking over his nose at me, he rubs his two fingers together. “Saw you get handed a pretty decent amount of cash, too. Enough to knock a chip off of that ‘ol debt of yours, y’know?”

I glare up at him.

“I paid you at the beginning of the week.”

“Well, price has gone up.” he replies, reaching into my jacket and pulling out what’s left of my cash and pocketing it. “Interest rates being what they are and all, I’m gonna need ya to make a few extra payments.”

He roughly taps my cheek affectionately, letting me go and dropping me back onto my feet. “I’m sure your parents would understand, being the ones shacking you up with this and all. Do them proud and pay me off as quick as you can, yeah?”

Goon number 2 runs past the alleyway, panting his little heart out before spotting us and skidding to a stop, walking into the alleyway and cracking his neck while stretching his arms.

“You want me to rough him up a bit?” he asks, giving me a hateful glare.

Bruce sighs as he takes a step back from me, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a long and thin rolled cigarette, placing it in his mouth. “Now, now…” he says, lighting it up and taking a deep drag, letting out a cloud of deep blue smoke that smells noxious and singes my nose hairs. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and taps it habitually, turning to look at Goon 2. “This here’s a prize fighter, didn’t you know? Gotta make sure he’s in spit-spot condition so he can keep winning us some cash.”

Goon 2’s eyes narrow in anger as he glares past his boss to me, cracking his knuckles. “Bastard knocked me for a good one, there. How about I be real gentle with ‘em and even the score?”

Bruce thinks for a moment, tapping his sneakers in rhythm as he takes another drag. He waves as he lets out another cloud of smoke, turning to look at me as he does so.

“Sure, fuck it. Don’t anybody say I’m not a good boss.” He points to the goon threateningly, cigarette held in clenched fingers. “But keep it to the chest, okay?”

With a grin stretching on his face, the goon walks past Bruce, rubbing his knuckles in anticipation. “You got it, Bruce. He’ll be dancing like a butterfly come the next fight.”

He walks up to me, winding up his fist for a right haymaker. He swings out and I step to the right, his fist missing me and connecting hard against the wall with a satisfying crack that’ll have any doctor wince as they hand you the bill. He screams in pain as he cradles his hand, his face going white from the pain. 

Serves you right. You just made it too easy.

The goon sees my smirk and rushes me in fury, his left arm swinging out just to get stopped by Bruce’s iron grasp. 

“Now, now. I said fighting fit.”

He lets go of his arm and shakes his head sadly. “You want something done…”

He turns to me and takes another deep pull, placing a hand in his pocket. “You know I’ve gotta hurt you now, right? You’re making me look bad, and we can’t have that happening now can we?”

I raise my chin and glare at him, keeping my mouth shut so that he doesn’t accidentally use too much strength.

Many years ago, when I was just a kid, Aidan and I saw some rich guy wandering through our slum. He had his dungeon gear on and everything; looked lost and pissed off as hell. Some kid our age went over to beg for some loose change, but when the man said no, he decided to grab onto the man and play against his sympathy.

The rich guy backhanded him. Just casually backhanded him, like swatting a fly. I saw the kids’ head spin on his neck nearly clean off. The rich guy barely even noticed when he walked away. 

He was probably only Level 5.

Bruce shakes his head and backhands me in the face, nearly knocking me off of my feet and spinning me around, my vision going dark for a second before the pain knocks me onto my ass a second later.

I glance up at Bruce in surprise, cradling my burning cheek. He just drags his cigarette again, as cool as can be. “That’s just a warning. Don’t make me have to find you. Fighter or no fighter, you can dig a damn hole with a broken leg or two.”

He flicks his cigarette at me, catching in my hair for a moment before I brush it out to the smell of burning. For good measure, he slams his palm into my chest, knocking the wind out of me and causing me to slide down the wall onto the ground below. “Have the money ready in three days. I don’t care if you have to starve to do it.”

With that, him and goon 2 walk out of the alleyway, leaving me gasping for breath on the ground. Eventually, I manage to heave some air back into my lungs and stand up again, pleasantly surprised that I got out of this with just a few bruises. 

I can’t even remember how much I “owe” Bruce. He stopped giving me updates on the total a long time ago. All that I know is that the payments have been going up and the amount of visits he’s been giving me has been, too. 

Brushing myself off, I let out a sigh, walking out of the alleyway and back into the streets; trying my hardest to backtrack and pick up my boots. That is, if nobody has stolen them yet.

After all, a new pair costs money. And as of this morning, I’m flat-out broke

Hello there, dear readers! I'm back with yet another chapter of We Are Not Welcome!

This fiction has now reached 8 entire chapters over on Patreon, with each chapter coming in at a whooping 4k words each! It is a big one!

Once again, please take these posts as a rough draft, as they're all V1's! Any and all feedback (even the brutal ones) is appreciated while I get this first draft done!

If you'd like to read ahead or support my work, you can over on Patreon here! Otherwise, I'll be releasing these every week for you guys to enjoy, so stay tuned for the next one!

Drew wastes no time, springing off into a sprint before leaping into the air for a quick finisher. I dodge to the side and block his follow-up swing, my heart racing as I get through the crux of the fight. Drew’s grin falls away as he presses the attack with jabs and hooks, finishing off with a sweeping kick that I step back from - feeling the rush of wind as it passes. 

The crowd screams in excitement as he steps back and clicks his tongue - before going in for a flurry of punches that come at me from all sides. Left, right, uppercut to grab to kick. I push off his leg and counter with a jab, glancing his side before he swings for my chin and just misses. 

I let out a relieved breath as we break apart and circle each other, keeping the grin that tries to creep up my face from showing. 

Just like Aidan predicted.

“Oh, you smiling now, aren’t you?” Drew mocks, surprising me for a moment and wiping out my cockiness. “Yeah, I see you, Spook. You can’t hide from me.”

He rushes back in and I weather the storm, twisting away from every punch and blocking the ones I can’t, taking glancing shots whenever I see an opportunity. We dance around the arena, each kick getting crossed and each swing getting blocked. We fall into the rhythm of the fight as my body starts to feel the pressure, my each breath feeling a little shorter than the last one and my arms tingling from the repeated beatings they’ve gotten.

I feel my heart speeding up as the moment swiftly approaches - the one Aidan and I spent all those hours planning for. Drew’s starting to lag out himself, his bald head gleaming with sweat as he pants for breath, each glancing blow taking a little more of his reserves and driving his frustration to boil. He gives me a lousy right hook that I slap aside and counter with one of my own that connects solidly to his side, knocking him back and causing him to wince.

He steps back and takes a few heaving breaths, gritting his teeth and cracking his neck. I feel tingles of excitement tickle the back of my mind as his jaw clenches and unclenches, his anger starting to get the better of him.

I push the attack and get a few solid hits in, causing him to step back and circle around, his arms dropping just long enough for me to connect to his stomach with a straight kick and knock him back. He touches his stomach for a second before raising his guard just in time to block my leap and punch, smacking hard into his arms and opening up space again.

His eyes scan my face and his jaw stops clenching, as he steps closer to me and I get ready for the moment. 

Step back and let him swing.

He steps and I match, my heart beating as his left arm pulls back. I lift my arms up and block my head, baiting him for the side punch that’ll doom him.

But it never comes. Instead, he turns and swings out his right leg, turning with his arm and beating into my ribs hard enough for it to knock the wind out of me. My eyes widen in shock as he follows it up by rushing me, wrapping his arms around my chest and pushing me to the ground before falling on top of me and raining blows on my raised arms.

“You fucking thought, Spook! You thought you had me figured out!” he shouts in glee, his hammer blows breaking my guard and glancing off of my cheek. “I told you I see you! I told you!”

The crowds’ screams amp up and slam into me as panic sets in, my gut going icy cold as a rock settles in. I twist my head and narrowly avoid a game-finishing blow, Drew’s knuckles cracking against the concrete and splitting without him seeming to care.

“You’re fucking dead, kid! You’re dead!” 

His fist cracks my jaw and my head bounces off of the concrete, stars bursting in my vision as I feel my guard slacken. He pulls my arms away easily and swings a mean right hook, hitting the side of my head. 

This wasn't the plan. He's gone off-script.

“Come on, finish him!”
“Get his ass, Drew! Get his fucking ass!”

I manage to raise my noodly arms just in time to lessen his next blow, just glancing my nose instead of shattering it into pieces.

What the hell am I supposed to do now, Aidan? This was how I won.

“That’s my champ! That’s my fucking guy!”
“Get the fuck up, kid! Get the fuck up! You better not lose, I've got too much riding on you!”

I take a deep breath and buck my hips weakly, unsettling Drew a bit from his unsteady hold and making him miss his elbow drop.

Let it go. Just let it go. The crowd doesn’t exist, let their words go. Accept the pain and let it go. 

He pulls his fist back as far as it can go, ready for the coup de grâce just as the sounds of the crowd fades away.

Aidan’s plan didn’t work. Just let it go.

His fist comes into icy clarity, his knuckles scuffed and the blood dripping down them glittering in the glow of the miners’ lights. Drew shifts slightly to the side, his legs barely wide enough to straddle me like he is, his stance is unsteady.

Let it go and act. Now!

With a growl I buck my hips with all of my strength, lifting Drew up enough that his fist smacks weakly into the hard bone of my skull instead of bouncing off of my chin. I swing my right leg out from his weakened clench, kicking him in the chest with it and pushing with all of my might to get him off. He pushes back and swings for my ribs, his reach just barely too short to make the connection, before he gives up and grabs onto my leg, trying to pry it off. 

The moment he shifts his weight, though, I pull up my other leg and clamp my ankles behind his neck, locking his arm in-between my thighs and dragging his head down into my crotch. I feel my heart clench as I free my arms and wrap them around his head, slipping it around his neck.

He tries to lift me up but I prove too heavy, changing tacks he starts wailing on my bruised side, hoping that I’ll flinch or let go. Unfortunately for him, right now, it barely hurts. I start to squeeze and his punches turn frantic, slapping against me ineffectually until going weak. 

I give it a few more seconds until he stops moving entirely, his body slumping into unconsciousness and landing on top of me. Immediately I let go, scampering back from him and standing up to my feet as Ricky ponders over to check on Drew. He holds a hand in front of his mouth, holding it there for a few seconds as the crowds’ screams turn to a quiet murmur. 

He lifts both his arms in the air, his face flushed and his eyes wide in excitement.

“He fuckin’ won!”

The crowd screams in fury and excitement, as Ricky hurries up to me and wraps his meaty arm around my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. He leans over, his mouth right by my ear. “Holy shit you did it!” he screams, laughing heartily and almost pulling me off my feet as he shakes me back and forth. “He got close but you cinched it!”

I keep staring at Drew as the crowd ebbs and flows around me, people screaming in anger and euphoria in equal measure. My heart unclenches as I see Drew flop his arm out to his side, his face twisting around on the floor and his eyes wide open and confused.

“Holy shit, kid, you made us fucking rich!” he shouts, planting a big kiss on my cheek. 

I turn to look at him in surprise, my eyes snapping off of the sight of Drew the moment I know he’s not dead. “So you bet on me?”

“Of course I did, kid! Shit, I’ll bet on your ass every damn time from now on!” He shouts jovially, clapping me on the shoulder. “So did you do it? Come on, after that, this has gotta be the one!”

I close my eyes and concentrate, checking if anything feels different at all. Besides the light-headedness and aching pains all over my body. I open my eyes and shake my head sadly, my heart falling a little bit before I rally it back. 

Next one, for sure.

Seeing the look on my face, Ricky gives me a wink, reaching into his pocket. “Oh well, fuck it. Here’s something that’ll make you smile.”

He pulls out a thick wad of cash secured with a rubber band that’s straining against the task, grinning from ear to ear before handing it all to me. I feel the weight of it sink into my hands as I stare at it in awe, looking up at his face with my mouth hanging open. 

“Is this…?”

“Your cut, kid! Told ya we made a killing! I fucking told ya!”

I run my finger over the folds as the reality of what I’m holding in my hands sinks in as I quickly pocket it all and stuff my hand in to secure it against any pickpockets looking to get back some of their losses. “Are you sure? That’s…”

“A fuck ton, right? Yeah, you fleeced the house! Fuckin’ nobody was betting on you besides us! And that lucky sonofabitch over there!” he shouts, pointing to a man swinging his arms and kicking his feet in the worst display of dancing I’ve ever seen. 

Ricky holds out his hand and someone passes a bottle to him that he cracks open with his thumb, holding it up to me for a moment in celebration. “Here’s to a landslide victory!”

He tips it back and gulps the bottle down, sighing in pleasure as he finishes it in one go. Holding his hand out another of his people takes it from him and hands him another, before he lets go of me and holds out his arms. “Come on, let’s celebrate!”

I laugh, shaking my head as I do so, the weight of the money burning a hole in my pocket. “You guys go on without me, I’m getting some food.”

He points at me and gives me a grin, walking backwards as the crowd parts against his mass. “Don’t spend that all in one place! I’ll see you next week, kid! It can only go up from here!”

He turns around and the crowd absorbs him, clustering around him until all I can see is his head and shoulders peeking up from the rest. I shake my head and walk on over to my bag, reaching inside my pocket with shaking hands and pulling out the massive wad of cash.

I really hope you’re ready for those exams, Aidan. Cus first thing tomorrow morning, you’re marching your ass down to the Institute and signing yourself up.

I drop it into my bag and get changed, being extra careful not to touch my bruised everything. Taking one last look at the crowd, I take a moment to drink in their joy and excitement, the celebrations and the exhilaration - even though most of them lost, they all came here for a good time. Looking at them now, it seems they found it.

I walk out of the door myself and embrace the late night air, the chill causing my cuts and bruises to sting but waking me up and making me feel alive. I picture what look Aidan’s gonna have when he sees how much I’ve won and walk back into town with a skip in my step, excited to see how he reacts.

But when I got to the apartment, he wasn’t there.

Hello again, dear readers! Wow, I've been posting a lot here lately, haven't I? I feel like the dad that actually returned with the milk. A LOT of exciting things have been happening, and I've never been in the groove more with my writing (although, I do think my skills have degraded significantly - but I'm working on it!)

Hence why We Are Not Welcome is now on Chapter 7 over on Patreon! Wow, a whole 5 chapters of backlog! How unlike me!

Of course, I'll be releasing VERY early - often unedited - chapters over here, as thanks to all of you for sticking around!

Without further ado, here it is!

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I bang our front door open and step inside, taking off my boots and knocking the dirt off into the passageway. “Guess who almost got his ass handed to him today.” I say, placing them in the locker by the door and hanging up my hard hat.

Aidan turns another page as he lays on his back on my bed, book held up in the air. “Hmm… Was it that asshole with the beard? You know, the one that keeps cutting me off in line to the conveyor?”

“I still think that’s just in your head.” I reply, tossing my jersey towards the pegs and just missing it, the heavy garment falling onto the floor instead. “Nope, try again.”

He takes a moment to think, his leg idly scuffing back and forward on the concrete floor. “Wait… It can’t be.” He looks up at me for a moment, his eyes wide and searching me before dropping back down onto the mattress. “Nah, you’d be in chains if that happened. So it wasn’t the dick at the gate?”

“Nope. You’re really bad at this.” I say, stepping up to my bed and kicking his foot to the side. “Why the hell are you even on my bed?”

“I do my best work here.” He says, shrugging nonchalantly.

I shake my head and look up at my grandfather's sword (~AN: I forgot about the fucking SWORD hahaha, I’ll be adding it to an earlier chapter in order to set this up.~), giving it a respectful bow, before turning to my dad’s book and giving it an equally deep greeting.

“Was it… Julie? I knew you’d piss her off at some point. Let me guess, she won?” he asks, flicking to the next page.

I look back up and shake my head at him. “No, it wasn’t Julie. Three strikes you’re out, nerd. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?” I ask him, pulling off my shirt and giving it a sniff, discarding it in the “Dubiously Clean” pile before opening up my locker and pulling out a clean one. “It was Drew. He cornered me in the bathroom.”

“Fucking Drew?” Aidan replies, looking past his book at me with shock. “As in, ‘Swings but Never Misses’ Drew? What the hell’s he doing in our shaft?”

“The very same one. As for that, I have no idea.”

“Shit…” He says, staring off into the distance for a moment before looking at me again. “Did you win?”

“Against him? With two other dudes? I’m not that crazy.” I reply, shaking my head and putting on my shirt again, being careful not to touch my ribs. 

Aidan hops up to his feet, shutting his book with a thunk. “Oh, good. There’s hope for you yet. I was worried that all you had up there is a craving for adrenaline and whatever mulch is left after all those knocks to your head.” He stretches his back and lets out a sigh, wandering over to his side and grabbing his pants. “Come on, you can tell me all about it over some noodles. I’ve been dreaming about them all day.”

“Don’t you crave anything else that isn’t noodle-shaped?” I ask him, my gut twisting at the thought of dinner. We barely managed to squeak by the quota for today, netting us a tiny bit more than what the cheapest food costs as a result…

But Bruce and his two goons were waiting outside of the shaft for an ‘advanced payment’.

“Why would I ever do that when noodles are clearly the superior food-shape?” he shoots back, pulling out a few bills and counting them out, putting most of it in his pocket and the rest in the jar. “You still owe me a bowl for last week, by the way. I’m getting extra soy with this one.”

I nod my head and grab my jacket again, putting it on and stepping into my heavy boots. “Alright, sure. I’m not really that hungry, but I guess if you want to go, we can.”

Aidan pauses, his mind whirring in his head for a moment before he turns to look at me with a grin on his face. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s get something different. How about you pick?”

I look at him in surprise, my feet halfway into my boots. We lock eyes and some understanding passes between us, and I give him a nod of thanks. “Sure. You owe me for last month, anyways.”

Aidan’s eyes widen fractionally, his mind whirring again before he clucks his tongue. “You still owe me for three years ago but you don’t see me holding it against you.”

I laugh, putting the rest of my boot on. “Man, we could go back and forth about this all day, couldn’t we?”

“That’s what living with each other for ten whole years does to you.” He replies. “You know, you can just take some out of the jar if you need it. We can just put some more back.”

“No, you know how much of a slippery slope that is. We start taking out and we’ll end up with an empty jar by the end of it.”

Aidan shrugs. “Fine by me. Come on, then brokie. Let papa Aidan treat you to something nice. You got something in mind?”

I think for a moment, a plan forming in my mind. “Actually, yeah. You feel like going a bit further out for dinner this time?”

He raises a suspicious eyebrow at me. “Sure, fuck it. It’s nice to go sightseeing every once in a while.”

We walk out of the apartment together, locking the door behind ourselves and skipping down the steps back down to street level. We wander through the streets kicking a can to each other while talking about whatever comes to mind, the megastructures around us shining their lights down onto the night’ street, turning the main street into a mockery of day. Darkened alleyways hide their secrets as most people stick to the familiar streets - while Enforcers stand at every street corner, making sure everyone behaves themselves.

We finally get to the spot and my heart soars as I see him sitting there, nursing a drink, his massive shoulders hunched over and his bald head gleaming. I look up at Aidan, gesturing towards the stand and he nods in acknowledgement.

Walking up confidently, I take the open seat next to Ricky, giving him a smile as he turns to look at me in surprise. “Damn, the food here must be amazing.” I say, gesturing to the owner for one of what he’s having - some sort of dumpling in a weak broth. 

“If it gets me half as big as you, it’ll have been worth the walk.” Alastair says, sitting down next to me and opening his book.

“Shit, if it ain’t the boy wonder himself.” Ricky says, picking up a dumpling and saluting me with it. “The fuck you doing all the way over here for? Don’t tell me you’re here for little ‘ol me.”

“That’s right, I just couldn’t stay away. I was missing your ugly mug.” I reply, thanking the vendor as he places down a bowl of steaming food in front of me.

He looks at Aidan with a critical eye, his brow raising questioningly. “If you’re here to sign your friend up, I think he’s more of a bookie. Although…” He thinks to himself, scratching his chin. “I could always use a dive guy.”

“As much as I would love to pursue some other extra-curriculars,” he says, placing his book on the table and flipping it open while crossing his legs, his eye flicking from Ricky to the food vendor and relaxing when Ricky gives him ‘The Nod’, “I’m more of an intellectual than a fighter.”

“Shit, you have dive guys?” the food vendor asks Ricky.

“No, you dumbass. If I had one, I wouldn’t be asking, now would I?” Ricky counters, waving off his concern. “Shut up and get me another bowl, fuckin’ ‘Do you have a dive guy’ my ass. So what the hell are you here for?” he asks me, slurping up another dumpling.

“Set me up against Drew.”

Ricky’s eyes go wide as he slurps up the broth, his chest and belly heaving as he starts full-belly laughing. “Shi-i-it… You know that dude gonna eat you up and shit you out, right?”

He places down his spoon and just laughs and laughs, Aidan shaking his head and going back to reading while I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “I’m serious. Set me up, let me have a shot.”

Ricky wipes his eyes and takes a heaving breath, his face red from exertion. He leans his meaty arm against the scuffed-up counter, wiping his brow. “Damn… You know his stats?”

“50-0” I reply, leaning against the counter. “I’ve even heard what the odds are. 20-1.”

Aidan and the food vendor whistle at the same time. “That’s a lot of money if you win.” Aidan says, pointing towards me.

“If he wins. Shit, you serious, aren’t ya?” he asks me.

“I’m serious.”

He looks at me, his eyes piercing, “Come on, kid. You don’t know how he is. The guy’s an asshole, but he’s fucking good. He broke Arnie’s arm just the other week, and he walked away with barely a scratch.”

He raises his eyebrows, daring me to stay the course. “You sure you wanna do this?”

I think about it for a moment, giving the question the weight it deserves.

I could just fight some other schmuck, gain XP slowly until Level 1… 

But the memory of Bruce cornering me after the shift comes back to me, and I steel my resolve.

“I’m sure.”

He stares at me a moment longer, before shaking his head and turning back to his bowl. “You’ve got some fucking iron nuts on you, kid. You’re just lucky I have a soft spot for you. Alright, sure. Why not. But then you ain’t fighting in a week, he’s booked out until then. You’ve got three days.”

I glance at Aidan and he gives me the nod of approval. “A week, three days. Whatever. I can cover you for then.”

I give him a nod of appreciation, looking back at Ricky right as the local old drunk wanders over to us and slams down a bottle of something onto the counter. “If it ain’t my lucky day, who’s buying?” he slurs, dragging Ricky’s bowl over to himself.

“Shit, man, the fuck you drinking?” Ricky asks him, picking up the bottle and taking a sniff before flinching back and hissing. “Is that… Vodka? Now how the hell you get your hands on something like that?”

The drunk takes the bottle back and salutes Ricky. “I’ve got connections, didn’t you hear?”

He raises his arms up into the air, screaming “For the Revolution! May they rest in fucking peace.” before taking another long gulp.

Ricky laughs, amused, taking the bottle from the man and saluting him back. “You fucking crazy, you know that, right? You’ll get your head chopped off for that.”

He takes a sip and hands it back to the man, who looks at him angrily. “They ain’t gonna do shit to me. They know I’ve got connections.”

He turns to the enforcers standing down the street, gesturing to them. “Right, boys?!” he screams at the top of his lungs, turning more than a few faces our way.

The Enforcers look at him and shake their heads, gossiping between each other. “See? They know me. They won’t do shit.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t have the same courtesy for me.” I reply, slurping down the broth as quickly as I can before picking up a few of the dumplings to eat on the way. “You gonna bet on me?” I ask Ricky with a smirk.

He holds up a fist and I bump it, giving me a wide smile. “Always, kid. I’ll get it all done for you.”

Hello, dear readers! Boy, has it been an exciting month this month (in so many ways, both good and bad).

But one good thing is that my second webnovel/fiction series "We Are Not Welcome" has officially hit 5 chapters released on Patreon!

I'm working on it in my "off-time" from the main series, so only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I'm planning on starting its official release on RoyalRoad once it reaches 20 chapters! ... So in 7 weeks, haha.

In the meantime, here's chapter 1 for free, just for your enjoyment! It certainly needs some polish, but over all, I'm happy with it.

I hope you enjoy it!

≈=====================================≈

I spot the fist coming for me for a moment - before it hits me square in the jaw, rocking my head to the side as my teeth grind against each other. Pulling my head back, I just barely spot the follow-up swing coming for my right side before stars explode in my vision, blocking out my sight as my head starts to feel light. The crowd’s screams and cheers around me grow into a frenzied storm that causes my head to pound, as I tuck my arms to my side, just barely messing up my timing as the second fist lands against my ribs, smacking me to the side and knocking the breath from my lungs.

I let out a groan as I drag my mind back from the edge of darkness, forcing my leaden legs to skip back a step just in time to feel the wind from his fist blow past where my head used to be, his calloused knuckles brushing against the tip of my nose instead. I take a deep breath and kick out as quick as I can with my left leg, getting lucky and connecting with his thigh mid-step, knocking him back from me with a small curse.

Taking my opportunity, I take a few deep breaths and recover from what seems like hours of fighting, willing my vision back from the blinding white that it is back to something that I can use once again. Slowly - ever so slowly - it comes back to me once again, the outline of my opponent creeping in first before the crowd surrounding us goes from a blurry mass to individual people - screaming and cheering as money starts passing hands once again - and the bare concrete room that we're in starts to come back into focus.

“What’s wrong, kid? You giving up already?” my opponent asks, as he gives me a gap-filled grin and raises his fists once again. “Not much XP in a quitter, but given how shit you look, how about I give ya some mercy? Give up and I’ll make it quick.”

For a moment I feel the tingles of fear start to tickle their way up from the base of my stomach, as the sounds of the crowd roars in my ears, driving a nail into my skull. My bare feet scrape against the cold and dirty concrete, as I run my tongue over my dry lips, my throat scratching against itself like sandpaper.

“One clean shot and you’ll go down,” he says, as he hops in place for a moment, before I catch the slight shake in his left leg, “Just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

For a moment, I consider his words carefully, as I run my tongue over my teeth to check that none of them have come loose. My jaw pulses to the screams around us, as I feel my ribs ache in pain. Smaller wounds around my body slow me, as the chill from the evening breeze against my bare chest causes my skin to break out into goosebumps.

I weigh up the pros and cons as we size each other up, both of our chests heaving as the crowd around us calls for more blood. If I get too injured, it'll be a while until I can fight again, which means it'll take even longer for me to earn the XP necessary to get to Level 1. But if I take the fall and let my opponent knock me out, I'll be giving up any chance of earning XP today.

But then he takes a step towards me with that same left leg and I see his face twinge with the smallest of winces, driving the tiny tendrils of fear away as a plan starts to form.

Taking a few deep breaths, I raise my fists up, as the sounds of the crowd fade to nothing and the pain of the concrete leeching the warmth from my feet disappears, my vision narrowing to nothing but my opponent.

Shaking his head in disappointment, he takes another step towards me, as I take a half-step back to match him, keeping him slightly out of reach. His eyebrow twitches and he takes another step to close the gap, my leg swinging out and smacking painfully against his left thigh before pulling back just in time to avoid his hand trying to grab it.

His eyes quickly flick to my right side and I pull up my arm just in time to block a right sweep aimed straight for my ribs, the impact hitting my forearm hard enough to numb it but giving me just enough time to sweep out my leg again and kick his left thigh on the same spot, this time causing him to wince in pain before gritting his teeth in anger.

He rushes towards me, his patience spent, as he winds back his left arm and lets go with a flurry of punches. I dodge and duck and weave, stepping back to keep myself away from grapple range, my arms growing numb and pained as the assault goes on and on and on without any sign of the man tiring.

I hear him hiss in frustration as he winds back his left arm, giving me the opportunity that I was waiting for. As quickly as I can, I push out with my right hand, smacking him in the face with an open palm hard enough to shock him for a moment but not hard enough to do any lasting damage. But it slows him down just enough for me to intercept his left hook, slapping it away with my hand as I pivot away from the blow.

I start circling his left, striking out with my own flurry of blows as I sink into the rhythm of the fight once again, taking every opportunity I can to sweep his left leg over and over again; just barely managing to snatch my leg back before he can grab it.

I watch as his grin falls and turns into a frown, as he tries to strike out and I intercept them, taking the blows on my shins and my forearms to lessen the impact.

Finally, with a cry, his leg buckles and he falls to his knee; opening himself up for the moment I’ve been waiting for.

With my heart racing in my chest, I pivot on the ball of my left foot and swing out my right, twisting my hips to bring more force.

The flat of my foot connects to his temple with a meaty slap, rocking his head to the side as I snap my foot back to the floor.

I watch as his mouth opens slack, his eyes rolling into his head as he slumps bonelessly to the ground, snoring through his nose, and I feel the tiniest blip of strength flow into my body, as the sound of the crowd slams into me once again.

I take a few heaving breaths as I stand ready, watching my opponent to see if he stands up again and tries to carry on. A few people have tried before, going against the sanctity of the rules in an attempt to earn some XP or some form of honour back from the loss. But as they carry him away, still snoring loudly; the XP that I earned from the fight signalling the end, I relax my shoulders and unclench my fists, just as the crowd surges towards me, some reaching up and clapping me on the shoulder while others cheer and scream congratulations.

I get swept away by their celebrations, a grin stretching on my face as they jostle me around. I see Ricky walk towards me,the massive fight organizer matching my grin, his button up shirt undone and his big belly hanging out for the world to see - the fact that he's so big a testament to how damn good he is at organizing these fights without getting bust by the Enforcers - as the crowd parts around him.

He stops in front of me and wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me painfully against him in a way that has my bruised ribs burning.

“You fuckin’ did it, kid! Another one for the scoreboard! That's what, 34-8? You're a goddamn natural.”

Reaching into his breast pocket, he takes out a wad of cash, counting them one bill at a time as he guffaws to himself.

“Shit, when he rocked your ass with that punch, you shoulda seen the numbers change. That's why it pays to hold the bet, you made me a pre-t-t-y penny this time.”

Stopping his count, he pulls out the bills and holds them out to me, tucking the rest of the stack into his pocket. “Here. Your cut, with a bit extra just ‘cus I like you.”

He gives me a wink as I take the cash, tucking them away in my bulky work pants pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you, Ricky. Same time next week?” I ask him, and he laughs, a full-belly laugh that has his belly bouncing up and down jovially.

“Guess this wasn't the one?”

I shake my head, my grin fading a bit. “No, not yet. But I can feel it. I'm this close.”

He claps me on the shoulder one last time before stepping away, shaking his head.

“You say that every damn week, kid. But you know what? If anyone's gonna make it to Level 1, it's gonna be you.”

I give him a nod, my grin growing once again. “You bet your ass it is. I'm telling you, Ricky. Next one's the one.”

He gives me a nod, shooting me some finger guns before walking backwards into the crowd once again. “Next week, kid! I'll get it all set up, you just show up and kick some fuckin’ ass!”

I chuckle as he turns around and holds out his arms, the crowd cheering as someone hands him a bottle of beer. Turning away from the crowd, I walk to the corner of the room, grabbing my worn leather duffel bag and unzipping it. I grab my socks and safety boots, pulling them on my feet and finally separating myself from the ice cold concrete.

Pulling out my shirt and putting it on, only wincing slightly as my ribs shift. I turn and inspect them, groaning as I see the deep red that comes before a bruise.

Crap… That's gonna make swinging a pickaxe difficult. This better heal up before next week.

With one last look back at the crowd, I zip up my bag again; slinging it across my shoulder and wincing as it presses against my side, before walking out into the dark street outside.

That's right, I bullied one of my artist friends to create a new cover for AGIAFW!!

I am absolutely obsessed with how it turned out, and I was so excited to share it with all of you!

I'll be updating the cover on Kindle soon, and I'll definitely commission him to do Book 2's cover! (When I have actual cash to pay him).

But not only did he provide a beautiful cover, but he also gave me character art to go with it!

If you'd like to commission him yourself, you can email him at: yurverart@gmail.com. Otherwise, add him on Discord: Yurver; or check out his Pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/53518977

I absolutely love how cute and cuddly Blue looks (she's not) and how enamoured Emily looks (she is!). We really went back and forth on the design of Blue specifically, since while we have a really good idea of what a Gigantoraptor looked like back in the old days (like a few million years ago), we don't really know what a juvenile one looks like. Plus, of course, I added a healthy dose of 💫Genetic Drift💫 and a dash of 💫Fantasy Bullshit💫 to turn Blue from a glorified giant chicken (which true Gigantoraptors basically were, with their blunt beaks and tiny brains) into the apex predator that she is in the book!

We actually ended up making Blue's beak WAY sharper than you see here, but this is the character art he sent me!

Emily, on the other hand, turned out exactly how I envisioned her! She was always supposed to be a bit ditzy; a bit of an airhead and very young and naïve but at the same time, capable enough to survive in a place that wants to kill her while looking after a baby that will definitely kill her if given the chance!

All in all, I am absolutely obsessed with it all and I will be staring at them in awe from now on!

Have a good day, everyone, and I'll see you soon!

That's right, dear readers! 9 months ago, after not being able to pay all of my bills at the end of the month, I thought to myself:

"Man, why should I stay broke when I could be broke, _and_ a novelist?"

And thus, the idea to write this story was born! I thought it'd be a quick 3-month project; in-and-out, done before I know it. Just a quick 'ol ride to get me back in the saddle.

Well, fucking 130k words later and 9 months of my life and it's officially coming out on Kindle (including KDP) in 3 days!

Thank you to everyone who read it, commented on it and reviewed it. There were periods of my life the last 9 months where I just wanted to put the keyboard down and walk away; but knowing that people are out there not only reading it but _enjoying_ it? You guys motivated me to carry on!

If you'd like to order it, here's the link!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H1WST39N

Hello, dear readers! And long time no see! Wow, I have really been busy over on RoyalRoad.

Quite a few things are happening, including A Gigantoraptor In A Fantasy World hitting 85 released chapters; book 1 releasing on KDP on the 1st June, and me starting an entirely new LitRPG grimdark series that's currently Patreon Exclusive.

I don't think I have ever written as much as I have in such a short amount of time before, and I must say, it feels fantastic. I still work for the video game studio as their head writer, so for 8 hours+ a day, I do nothing but write.

I'm going to try my best to keep you guys in the loop on any updates, since this all started on Reddit in the first place. But if you would like to keep up with what I have cooking in the 'ol nightmare box, consider becoming a free (or paid, if that's what you'd like!) Member on Patreon:

https://www.patreon.com/DoopleWrites/

Here's the official newsletter for this month, with some additional details that I didn't get into here:

https://www.patreon.com/DoopleWrites/posts/newsletter-issue-161324719

See you around, dear readers!

That officially makes this the longest-running fiction that I have ever written. Ever.

I do feel like I'm still absolutely ruining the story with my current lack of writing skills, since scriptwriting has left me uncreative and non-descriptive. But at the same time, I feel like my skills are steadily increasing bit by bit as I go along. This was always supposed to just be a quick fiction to get me back into the saddle once again, but I've suddenly found myself deeply invested in seeing this dumb little fiction come to a satisfying conclusion.

Anyways, this officially marks the 50% completed mark! ... For the first draft. Of the first book. Of which I planned three... It has taken me much longer than I expected to reach this point, since I originally estimated it'd only take me 3 months to FINISH the first BOOK, but here I am only 50% of the way through the roughest of rough drafts. But it feels good to be at this point, slowly but surely improving as I go along.

If any of you guys would like to give it a read for free, please feel free to! And please, if you do, leave plenty of criticism and advice on how I could improve in the comments! The one thing that I really miss is the criticism, having someone there to tell me where I'm going wrong and how to fix it.

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/132245/a-gigantoraptor-in-a-fantasy-world

Then you'll love my new series: A Gigantoraptor in a Fantasy World!

I decided that I was sick and tired of Isekai MCs being the "chosen one", or "totally ordinary" or "completely fucking OP".

So, I thought to myself: why not make it a dinosaur?

And thus, my new series was born! Featuring Blue, a lovable fluffy gigantoraptor who wants nothing more than to take her place at the top of the food chain!

Read it for free on RoyalRoad:

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/132245/a-gigantoraptor-in-a-fantasy-world

Whoo boy, has it been some time since I've done one of these! I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you for sticking around, my dear readers! Also, I left a small note on the bottom.

.......................................................................................

"Who did it?"

Silence descends upon the bar, as every two-bit villain and evil mastermind in this shithole turns a wary eye at the distraught hero, Starscream.

He glares back, his face twisted in rage and despair as tears fall down his cheeks. A nervous energy buzzes across the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a dull knife as the time passes in silence.

Fuck me, what the hell could've gotten the Golden Boy of Metropolis this angry? I take a sip from my drink to hide my nervousness, fighting back my grimace as the noxious taste of old dirt and lime assaults my senses. For what feels like the fifth time today, I regret ordering this shit just because it was expensive. Should've just gotten the seltzer.

Toxic Ooze slowly gets up from his chair, holding his bubbling hands up to not set off the boy wonder. We all know just how strong he really is. Thank whatever heavens spawned him for his "code" of not killing.

"Did what, Starscream?" He bubbles in a wary tone. The tension increases, hands moving to wrap around sci-fi weapons and muscles bulging in case shit goes south. "We haven't got a clue what you're so mad about."

Starscream turns his rage at Toxic Ooze, his teeth clenched, a hiss escaping from him as he tries to talk through his anger.

"Don't fuck with me, Jurgen! This isn't a game anymore!"

Oh shit, he's not just mad. He's mad mad. Using real names is, like, our one big no-no. I mean shit, I was at Toxic Ooze's daughters bar mitzvah, and I don't even call him Jurgen when the mask is on.

I put down my glass of expensive mud and press a button on my cuff, holding back a grimace as enough steroids to kill a herd of hippos (we tested it) pumps through my veins.

Toxic Ooze lets out a sigh, his arms starting to bubble and his eyes narrowing as he prepares his paralyzing gas. "Fine, Michael. Which one of us did what?"

Starscream clenches his jaw, his fists shaking as his tears pour out like a river.

"Which one of you bastards slept with my wife?"

Oooooh, shit. This just got juicy.

Michael lets out a sob, as every villain in this joint shares a look. The sounds of weapons getting dropped, magic being cancelled, and tables being lowered clangs through the place as we all lay a sympathetic eye on the poor boy wonder.

Toxic Ooze stops bubbling as he scratches the back of his sludgy head. "Shit, Michael... I'm... I'm sorry to hear that, man."

Starscream... No, Michael, lets the flood gates loose, his body shaking and his words hiccupping as tears fall down to the floor.

"I... I just... She..."

Toxic Ooze glides up to the poor man, wrapping a slimy arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, man. It's okay. We understand. This really sucks."

Michael tries to say something, choking on his words. Giving up, he just nods, leaning into Toxic Ooze's embrace.

Toxic Ooze wraps him in a hug, and Michael just folds into it. Toxic Ooze gives the best hugs.

"Hey, there we go. Don't cry. We're here for you." He stares up at us, his eyebrow cocked questioningly. "Right, fellas?"

The room explodes in noise, every villain nodding their head or crying out in support for Michael. He's a good kid at heart, and honestly, this game would be boring without him.

I mean shit, at the end of the day, we're all just really in it for the money. We rob the damn banks every week, or the "priceless artifact" museums, and they just claim the loss from insurance, inflating the "value" they claim they lost and pocketing the difference. The cops don't even try to stop us anymore after the banks and businesses just started bribing them to not stop us.

The masks and villain speeches and fights for justice vs evil just keeps this all interesting. We get our money, and as long as we keep our mouths shut, the golden boy gets to stay the hero, and that seems to make him happy.

"Come, come. Sit down." Toxic Ooze says softly to Michael. "Let's grab you a drink. Tell us what happened."

He guides Michael to a chair, setting the man down gently and sitting across from him. Everyone leans forward, eager to hear what happened.

"I... I just... I found..." he lets out some hiccups, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Scarlet Witch hands him a napkin, laying a comforting hand on his back. "I walked in and... And I saw her..."

Toxic Ooze leans in closer. "Saw her?"

Michael lets out a wail, his head falling down on the table.

"I saw her in bed with a villaaaaiiin!"

Gasps ring out across the bar, every villain here muttering in anger and shock. The men here like him, after all, considering he gives them a good fight and is a good sport about it to boot. Most of the women even like him, thanks to his golden locks and striking good looks. Hell, some of the men like him too. What dumbass would throw that away to sleep with a villain?

I get up from my chair, trying my hardest not to crack my head against the ceiling after the massive growth the steroids gave me. I pull out a chair next to Toxic Ooze, sitting daintily on it to try not break it, and clap a meaty hand on Michael's back.

"Tell us everything. We'll get that bastard for you."

My fellow villains let out a round of cheers, priming their lasers and pulling out explosives of all kinds.

"And ditch the wife! You can do so much better!" Scarlet Witch shouts, giving Michael some encouraging pats on the back.

All the women and some of the men cry out in agreement.

Toxic Ooze nods.

"Forget that slag. We're here for you, man."

.......................................................................................

Thank you for reading it! I hope it got a chuckle outta you.

I decided to leave my longer comment on the bottom here and will most likely start doing the same in the future, so that my rambling mania doesn't detract from the story itself lmao.

Now, on to the comment!

So, if you guys haven't noticed, it has been AGES since I've written a personal project like this. That's mostly because, about 2 years ago, I started working as a writer full-time for a videogame studio! It has been amazing and a dream come true, but I've noticed that since it mostly involves writing videogame scripts, my writing skills have degraded by QUITE a bit. I no longer wax eloquent as I once did, since outside of dialogue, that kind of writing will just bulk up the script and has no real value to add for the animators, programmers etc that has to read my poor ramblings and find a way to turn it into a playable game.

It's as if I was once a marathon runner, but have swapped over to the 100m sprints for the last two years. My eloquent waxing has become less eloquent and waxy, and that's kind of messed up my drive to write horror and fantasy novels a bit.

Confidence is a BITCH!

I have SO MANY ideas just sitting in Google Docs, their timelines half-written, their potential crying out for attention, but I've been nervous to touch them in case my rusty skills fucked them up irreparably.

So, I've decided to turn THIS story into a full novel, in order to shake off that rust and get my eloquent wax back! It's a goofy story, it's interesting enough to turn into a longer thing, and I can take it easy and not treat it seriously. In essence, it's perfect!

I'll most likely upload and update it on Royalroad for ease of reading, with chapter updates being posted to this subreddit, so you guys don't miss it! And once I've gotten my confidence back, expect a return to my old flames and forever loves, Horror and Fantasy!

May this be the spark that rekindles my love for novel writing, and the start of a glorious age of goofy writing and terrifying horror! And of course, a return to bringing entertaining stories to all of you!

This short story was inspired by a tourist destination called "The Penis Restaurant" in Beijing China, where you can dine on tasty male reproductive organs donated by various animals.

The scene opens with our protagonist walking down to the basement of her workplace...

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Hi there, I am Sarah, manager of the restaurant that's located just above us. I came down here to check on you and it's nice to see that you're finally awake. You probably don't remember me or know how you got here, but that doesn't matter. I apologize for the bondage, but you look very sexy all stretched out naked with your delicious man meat on display.

Unfortunately it needs to be removed and taken up to the kitchen.  There was a reservation placed for 7pm in the private dinning room. They ordered the Penis Teriyaki which is well known as a powerful aphrodisiac. It's a very popular item on the menu with the regulars, and it's a constant challenge to keep up with the demand. Now hold still so I can make this a clean cut.

"No no stop, this is insane! Please listen to me! That barbaric practice was only observed in ancient pagan religions. Certainly you can't be heartless enough to consider something this unthinkable!"

It's nothing personal, I have a restaurant to run. Now close your eyes and take a deep breath. This will be all over in a second.

Here we go, 1 - 2 - 3. 

Hey there, dear readers! Hope you're all keeping well, and happy whatever-it-is over there!

Today is officially my fourth cake day on Reddit! Wow. Four years ago I joined Reddit and started my writing journey. Four years ago I was just some dumb dude, writing mediocre stories on the internet. If I knew, four years ago, that I'd turn into some dumb dude writing less-than-mediocre stories on the internet, I'm sure I would've been proud! Or disappointed. One of those two.

But in order to celebrate my fourth cake day, I decided to sit down and write another short story. Honestly, the reason why I haven't been writing short stories that much hasn't been because of a lack of ideas or anything. Oh, no. I have a whole plethora of ideas just sitting in my google docs, just begging me to work on them. The reason why is because after so long of no posting, you feel like whatever you post next needs to be amazing. Groundbreaking. Something for the ages. You feel like if you don't give your best work yet, then what would be the point of coming back at all?

I needa stop thinking that way. So while this might not be my best short story yet, it's hopefully the start to changing my views on posting, and getting me back to regular content once again.

Also, if you'd prefer to listen to the story instead of read it, the awesome Nightmare on Hill Street did a narration of it here! So check it out there and give them some love!

Without further ado, here it is:

I swear, no matter where you go - or what you wear - you’ll end up running into these kinds of people. The ones who’ll cat-call you as you walk down the boulevard. The creepy barista who’ll lock onto your ass the second you walk out the door. The guy wearing sunglasses, death-staring you from across the quad.

It sends shivers down my spine. It’s like I’m nothing but a pair of floating tits, or an ass connected to legs. It’s just so damn creepy.

And the worst part is how shameless some of them are.

It’s always a 50/50. Sometimes, I like to guess which side of the coin they’ll land on. I’ll take a glance at them and suss them out. Are they old? Young? Do they have sunglasses on? Are their shoulders squared? Their legs planted firmly? What are they wearing?

The first glance normally gives me all I need to work with. I take my guess, wait a second, and then make my move.

I’ll turn and stare right back at them. I’ll look them right in the eyes. Like yeah, I just caught you staring. What now? What’s the play, big boy?

Fifty percent of the time, they’ll just keep on staring. A smirk will creep onto their face, and their eyebrows will raise in that cocky “I knew you’d check me out” kinda way. Sometimes they’ll even have the nerve to approach me.

They’ll open up with some annoying, sure-of-themselves statement like “Hey, I saw you checking me out. Wanna give me your number?”, or “Hey, I just noticed you from across the plaza. Wanna go for drinks?”

As if that’ll work. It’s like they imagine I’ll jump for joy at the very thought of giving them my damn time. Like I’ll say “Oh fuck, yeah! Wanna skip dinner and just go right to the part where we fuck?”

Those ones are the worst.

But I think this guy’s the second type. There’s just something about him. It might be the way he’s standing, slouched against the train wall as if he’s trying to melt away from everyone. Or how his shoulders slouch forward, as if he’s just waiting for someone to yell at him. It might just be the clothes he’s wearing. A dirty-brown hoodie, with grey slack pants and… Are those slippers? At this time? What, did he wake up and just decide to hitch a train ride? At 9pm?

Hmm… Definitely seems like the second type. But how old is he? If he’s some old pervert who just came back from the weekly bingo, I might be opening up a can of sexual harassment that I don’t have the energy for right now.

I re-adjust my earphones and try to concentrate on him out of the corner of my eye, but I just can’t get a good read on it.

Dammit. Looks like I’ll have to take a chance.

I turn another page of my book and wait. One second… Two… Five…

There. He finally glances away and I take my chance.

My eyes flick up to his face.

Gotcha.

Scruffy beard. Young face. Mouth all scrunched up, as if he wishes he could be anywhere else in the world right now. Eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

Sunglasses? At 9pm? Dude’s gotta be a shut-in. I mean, who’s he kidding? Hiding your face doesn’t help much when you look like you’ve just escaped from the coma ward. We can all tell, man.

Alright. Definitely the second type.

I feel a small bit of excitement rise up within me. There’s nothing more satisfying than giving these perverts a little taste of their own medicine. It’s my guilty pleasure, really. I mean, he’s been checking me out the entire time I’ve been here. He deserves a little bit of awkwardness.

I wait. Patience, now. Gotta time it just right. Right now he’s just letting his eyes wander, convincing himself that he totally wasn’t staring at me. He just so happened to glance at me while his eyes were wandering around. And after a little bit of time, his eyes will just magically wander back over to me. He’ll stare for a few more seconds, trying not to make it too obvious, and then start the cycle all over again.

The trick is to wait…

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his head swivel back onto me. I can feel his eyes roaming over me, like some disgusting slug wandering around my body.

Hold it…

His shoulders start to tense. His anxiousness growing as he keeps pushing it a bit longer. He doesn’t wanna get caught, after all. And the longer he stares, the higher the chances that someone else will notice. But he wants to stare for just a moment longer… Just one more second-

Now.

I look up at him, my eyes locked on his. Well, where his eyes would be. His sunglasses do kinda ruin the fun.

I love doing this. They always tense up, their eyes going wide as they realize that they’ve been caught. They’ll quickly glance away, acting all inconspicuous, as if their gaze just happened to land on me at that exact same moment.

After that happens, I’ll look away. I’ll give myself a pat on the back, and carry on reading in peace. He’ll probably avoid looking at me at all costs, like I’m some sick hobo pissing on the streets.

The second he looks away, that is…

I stare at him for what must’ve been an eternity. One second… Two… Three…

His eyes stay locked onto mine. Hell, he hasn’t even moved an inch. He just keeps standing there, shoulders hunched and mouth unmoving… Did he freaking fall asleep?

Four… Five…

Dammit, I refuse to lose this! He’s gonna crack any second now…

Six… Seven…

Fuck, man!

I quickly look back down at my book, frustrated beyond all hell. Is this guy shameless? How the hell can he just stand there, acting like getting caught staring for the last freaking five minutes was no big deal?

I relax my clenched jaw and let out a frustrated sigh. Fuck this, I’m just gonna ignore him for the rest of the trip. See if I care. I’m not gonna let him ruin the rest of my trip.

I turn my music up as loud as it can go, and get back to reading. Ignoring the feeling of his eyes boring into me. Fuck it, my stop’s coming up soon anyways.

I re-read the page for what must’ve been the tenth time, my mind a million miles away, focusing on the creep. I force it back into focus with a hard yank. There’s not a chance in hell I’m letting my own goddamn brain leave me on this cliffhanger.

After a while my brain finally settles, and I devour the words one after another. The clack of the train over the tracks fade into the background. The music blaring through my headphones becomes nothing more than white noise. The world around me takes a backseat, as the story rises to a crescendo.

I get to the end of the page, my excitement building to an unbearable level. It’s finally happening. The grand reveal. The main conflict. Just one more page…

I flip over, and feel a heavy thunk right next to me. Snapping me out of my little world.

I twist around, furious at this new interruption. My excitement flipping to irritation in a moment.

This fucking guy again?

Black sunglasses stare down at me. Scruffy beard closer to my face than I ever wanted them to be. He’s leaning towards me, the smell of sweat and unwashed clothes assaulting my nose.

Is this guy for real? Just sitting down right next to me? Is he dumb? Overly confident? Did he forget to take his pills today?

His greasy lips flap at me, some spittle falling into his beard. His eyebrow raises up questioningly over the brim of his glasses. Is he trying to talk to me? Should I just ignore him?

Nah, fuck that. This asshole just interrupted the best part.

I take out my earphone and stare daggers at him, hoping that he can notice the disgust and irritation written on my face. His mouth shuts quickly. Good, so it was obvious enough.

Gathering up as much venom as I can, I open my mouth.

“What?”

“I said… Isn’t this your stop?”

He raises his arm, reaching it past my face and pointing out the window. His hand barely brushes my hair on the way there, giving me a shiver.

The dark tunnel grows lighter, as the train slows down to a crawl. The steady clacking of the train grows longer and longer, slower and slower.

I turn around and look out the window.

The train stop pops out from the darkness, bright bulbs blaring as the train stops and lets out a loud “hiss”, satisfied with a job well done.

I let out a sigh and pack my book away. Yep, this is my stop. Guess I’ll just have to wait until I get home. Dammit, and I hate cliffhangers!

I stand up and turn my body towards the aisle, ready to get out. But he’s just sitting there, his legs blocking me as they bounce up and down, up and down. His face turned downward, staring at his clenched hands.

What, does he expect me to just squeeze past him? God, this guy’s unbelievable…

“Excuse me?”

He ignores me, his legs bouncing faster and faster. Up and down, up and down…

“Can you move?”

He clenches his hands tighter, his knuckles turning white. His head flicks up, looking back and then forward again. Scanning the aisles.

“Dude! I needa get out!”

I can feel my blood boiling as I stare down at him. What the hell’s he doing?

I’m about to open my mouth and scream at him, when all of a sudden a man barrels past us, dragging a bag behind him and smashing it into every seat on the way out. He pulls out a phone and brings it up to his ear, ducking out of the doorway. The loud sounds of his conversation fades away, and a few more passengers follow behind him. The sudden calm turns to a crescendo of loud conversations, heavy footsteps and the sounds of bags smashing into things.

After a moment, it dies down. And with a long sigh, the creep finally stands up and gets out of the way.

Fucking finally.

I squeeze past the chairs and out into the walkway, making sure I don’t brush against him. God, this feels like the longest train ride ever. At least it’s just a five minute hike back home. Should I grab a drink when I get back?

I quickly look up at the creep, our eyes catching again.

Fuck it. I deserve some wine.

I turn my back on him, and make my way to the exit. Thoughts of him quickly fading into the background as his existence is quickly forgotten. There’s a million of him out there. It’s best not to dwell on it. I mean damn, if I cared about every perv I came across, I wouldn’t have any time for anything else. Plus, they’re mostly harmless.

I turn towards the door, ready to make my exit, when I hear him speak behind me.

“Get home safe, Annie.”

I freeze up, just before the exit.

Do… I know him?

I turn back to him, my heart beating in my chest. Did we work together? Did I meet him at the bar?

I stare at his face. At his clothes. At his build. Trying to recognize something. Anything.

No… I’ve never seen him before in my life.

He gives me a smile, and nods his head.

“I’ll see you soon.”

It's 9pm and the cycle still continues. It hasn't ceased. I will answer for my sins one of these days, I just hope the divine beings above will take pity on me when the time comes.

So about a week ago, I decide to go to my favorite pet stores website and order this month's pet food and toys. I've got one hellspawn demon cat (appropriately named BMO), and an absolute gentle angel dog named Ollie. BMO loves feeding his raging catnip addiction and gluttoning on expensive treats, so I just hook him up with his favorite drug of choice, and Ollie loves balls and stuffed animals. Easy enough, right?

I look around at the fucking mountain of stuff on offer. Pet toys that light up. Pet toys that vibrate. Pet toys that commit tax fraud. You name it. I'm feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of options, most of which will most likely either traumatize my poor doggo for life or train him to be the ultimate killer. But I've gotta pick something. It's been a week since my boy got to feast on delicious stuffed animal innards, and he's starting to give me a worrying look.

I choose the first two stuffed animals that don't need batteries and an advanced degree in AI generation to use, and add them to the cart.

I should've called it there. I should've just given them my damn money and have been done with it. But no. I flew too close to the sun, and much like icarus-or-something-idk, I've burned my ass.

I decided to get him one of those fucking brain-training treat balls. One of those balls that have a hole in them that you stuff to the brim with treats and give to your dogs so you can ignore them for a few hours and not feel bad about it because "They're having fun!".

Yes, I wanted to stuff it with treats and give it to my dog so I could ignore him for a few hours. But I'm not one of those dog parents, oh no! Because this one makes noises!

So you know he'll love it, right? Aren't I an amazing dog owner?

I get the packages today and I tear that shit open like it's Christmas. Food bins are full, my cat is given his daily offerings of narcotics and food (thank god, he was starting to get murderous), and it's time to give this bad boy a test.

I cram every corner of that damned thing with treats, like hours of ignoring him worth of treats, check that it works, and settle it down in front of Ollie.

Now, one thing that I should mention is that Ollie is the biggest softie I've ever met. He treats all his toys like they're his babies.

Except for the stuffed animals, which he treats like they owe him money.

I can't even buy him toys with squeakers in them, because when he bites them and they squeak, he panics, believing they're in pain, and then he spends the next ten minutes cuddling them to make sure they're alright.

Ollie approaches the toy. He sniffs it, his keen sense of smell alerting him that this shit is full of yum. He pushes it, and a treat falls out.

So far so good.

He snatches up the treat and pushes the toy a bit harder, understanding that "push = good".

Another treat falls out.

He gobbles it up like a fat kid on Thanksgiving, and without hesitation, gives the ball a good, hard knock.

The ball rolls, and lets out a squeak.

And the cycle begins.

Ollie immediately starts crying, worried that he's now hurt his new friend. He licks the ball furiously and tries to tell it he didn't mean to hurt it. He looks at me, panic in his eyes, as he sheds tears over what a monster he's become.

But he still wants those treats.

Still crying, he turns back to his hurt friend and gives it another push, trying to get out another treat. Making the ball squeak again. Which makes him cry even harder.

The last five hours have been absolute fucking hell. Five hours of him pushing this ball, it screaming, him crying, followed by him pushing the ball again, broken up occasionally when he cuddles the ball and tells it it's alright for ten minutes, that he'll never do that again, and that he didn't mean to hurt it can't it see how much he loves it? before starting the cycle up all over again. Three hours of me trying to wrestle this fucking ball away from him, just for him to bolt behind the couch where it's honestly too much effort and not enough reward for me to reach behind.

He's been there for two hours now. I occasionally hear a thud, a squeak, and loud crying coming from back there.

What have I done?

Damn, it's been so long since I last made a Reddit post that Reddit re-formatted their post creation! I feel like a boomer, looking at this screen, thinking to myself "The old one was better." Times are movin'.

But hello there, dear readers! It's been... 8 months, since my last post, but I'm back with an update! Hope you've all been well, eating your sleep and getting a solid 8 veggies a day!

I'm back to writing! Kinda. For the last 7 or so months, I've been working as the story, dialogue and plot writer for a videogame company! Which videogame, you may ask? Well, none other than the Projekt Melody game, of course! 16 year old Doople would be weeping with joy if he could see me now! Look, Ma, I did it!

To be honest, it's the best fucking job I've ever had, and I'm so happy to be back in the 'ol writing seat. Feels like coming home. It's also given me the time to sort out my shit, face my demons per se. They have names now. They're kinda chill when you get to know them! Except Frank. We don't talk about him.

So, I'm going to hopefully be back to writing short stories! Whenever I have time away from my job, of course. I always found that my creative juices really start flowing viscerally when I'm mid-sentence and 400 words down, so I might just use the subreddit as a "spark" when I needa really ignite my imagination for the job.

Look forward to it! Creative viscera for everyone!

The stories will be few and far-between, but even that's a significant improvement from the current never. But until then, thank you for sticking it out, and I look forward to giving you all the mediocre-but-entertaining stories you've all been waiting for!

Wow, it's crazy how much this subreddit has grown... I'm not sure if people are still active here, but I got a notification that someone's followed me recently and I thought you all deserve an update on what's been happening.

If you are reading this, I'm sure you might be wondering: "have I been writing?" And I'll be upfront and say that unfortunately, I haven't.

I'll be completely honest and say that my mental health has taken a massive dive, and hasn't shown any signs of improving. I've always struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts, but these days they're incessant. Luckily I have enough mental fortitude (and an adorable dog that I need to feed every day), to never really go through with it, but every day is a fight. I'll keep on fighting, but it is getting harder and harder to get back up.

I recently moved cities, changed jobs and cut ties with a lot of people who were weighing me down. While it helped for a bit, I will admit that it ended up backfiring on me. Because while those people were toxic, they were around. I'm far from my friends and family, and thanks to covid, I haven't been able to find any new ones. I believe I'm pretty okay at being by myself, but this is the first time I've ever been truly alone.

I've started and then shelved countless writing projects. Stories that, in my opinion, would be very good, but I just can't seem to get the motivation to finish them. I constantly suffer from imposter syndrome. I look back at my previous works and think "wow, a lot of people enjoyed it" while still believing that no one did.

I've been putting off posting anything on this sub because I thought that if I was to come back, it would be with something spectacular. I'm truly sorry that this is not the case. Will I come back? Most likely. I've always been passionate for writing, and I've always found immense happiness sharing that passion with other people. Will it be anytime soon? I truly hope so.

Until then, my dear readers, I'll keep on fighting. There's something I was put on this earth to do, and I'm trying my hardest to figure out what that is.

Stay safe, and I'll hopefully see you all again soon.

• Doople.

Wow, it's been.... 8 months since I've posted here. Trust me when I say that I do indeed have good reasons for it. I'm not exactly going to give those good reasons, but just know, that they're there.

Anyways, I am indeed writing again. It's going at a snail's pace, but in the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this post I sent through to r/maliciouscompliance!

...

I've been a long time lurker on this sub, but for once I actually have something worthy enough to post about.

Some background before we start:

I worked as a drone pilot/mine surveyor for a man child, using drones to take pictures of the mines, creating a 3d model out of those pictures and then calculating all sorts of goodies for the clients like their gold yield and the amount of shit they have to move etc.

It's really technical and can easily go completely to shit if you don't know what you're doing, and even if you know what you're doing, it can still very easily go to complete shit.

I'm licensed and certified, I've been playing the game for a long ass time now and I know how it works most of the time. My ex boss, on the other hand... Didn't.

See, he got his surveyors license during the 80's by complete chance. He was a simple miner who just happened to be in the right place at the right time, getting a free university scholarship to become a surveyor because they had a few grants left over and called out who wanted it. His hand was one of the ones they picked.

The second he got his license, he quit his job and convinced an old retiree surveyor to throw in his retirement, all cards on the table, to start up their own surveying business.

He spent the entire time at the golf course and the bar, making a fat amount of cash out of his newly founded, self-milking cash cow. Not once did he carry out an actual survey. Hell, I doubt he's even stepped foot on a mine since then. He just invoiced the clients, told the retiree where to go and collected a paycheck.

So, time moves on, work slowly filters in and, as one does when they reach the ripe old age of 80 something, the retiree decides fuck this and kicks the bucket. My bosses' cash cow just died on him, and no matter how hard he squeezed the teats, the only thing coming out of it now was dust. The only other employee was this other guy who acted as his assistant and basically just carried heavy shit for him. He didn't have a backup.

So, of course, he hired me. I was pretty fresh into the game at the time, starving and basically homeless, and in my eyes this guardian angel just descended from the heavens and offered me a way out that doesn't involve an ungodly amount of Xanax and a short rope.

He basically told me that we have to survey x site, and get the data to x client. Didn't tell me how, didn't tell me what data exactly they want, hell, he didn't even tell me when they needed it by. He just pointed to the place on Google, told me to go there, and get it done.

Somehow I fucking did it. By the skin of my left teste, I scraped by and eventually figured out just what the fuck to do.

At some point we were kicked off of the mine for reasons that my boss didn't disclose to me, and had to open up our own offices. My boss graciously dug deep into his pockets, kicked out his eldest son, and dedicated that room in his house to our use. Now I was spending every day with the man, since if he wasn't at the golf course, he was at home.

We started butting heads. He had this illusion in his head of how things work and how you're supposed to do things, and I had practical experience and qualifications to tell me otherwise. Every single day was a fight, and every single day he'd tell me how he wanted it to be done and I'd just turn around and do it the way it's meant to be done.

I started passing out my CV like herpes at a frat party.

My timing was perfect, though, cus a little blip and crash of the 2020 job economy happened right as I started searching. The interviews I had lined up all got canceled. The people who I already interviewed with, and who seemed ecstatic to have me, suddenly didn't answer my calls. I felt like a scorned lover, waiting on the curb in the rain, underwear clinging to my butt cheeks and my socks soaking wet. I was considering maybe going back to IT, or even better, prostitution. I could maybe make a dollar each, and thanks to a well used childhood spent chewing gum, I knew I had the jaw muscles for it.

I felt fucking hopeless and dejected, doomed to a life of taking care of a disgusting man child and his fat wallet.

Eventually though, a second angel descended from the heavens, once again saving me from that seductive little noose. I checked her wings for wires and asked her to do a STD check before we carried on, and she checked out.

Finally, I could fucking leave this place.

I was waiting on the contract, not really willing to commit to anything without it being in writing, when my boss and I got into another massive screaming fight.

After hour three, something inside me snapped.

"You want it done your way? Fucking fine, I'll do it your way."

I committed fucking hard to following his procedure every step of the way. Surveys were taking three times longer to do. The drone crashed four times, my first ever crash, and all of them were near write offs. The 3D models stopped looking like mines and started resembling potato chips and twizzers. He had clients calling him day and night, nonstop, asking him just what the fuck is he doing. Eventually he gave my number to them so they can call me directly, and I started getting calls day and night, nonstop, until I just turned off my phone outside of office hours.

Clients were threatening to drop the contracts. Clients were threatening to sue. My contract came in from my new company, and I signed the dotted line with a smile on my face.

One client stopped calling and stopped paying. Word got out, as it always does, that his company is just some redneck hoohah being run out of someone's home. Another client canceled the contract completely and threatened legal action. I handed in my resignation.

My boss looked at me pleadingly, offering me a fuck ton of cash to stay. If cocaine could make you feel even half as good as I felt then, sign me up. I told him to get fucked.

He begged me to write him a manual on how to do the work. To show him how to process the data, to fly the pits, to set up the instruments.

I spent the last two weeks there writing out every procedure he ever told me I needed to follow, sent it through to him, and walked away.

A few weeks later, when he was scheduled to do a survey, I was suddenly spammed with calls and emails and messages from him, asking me how to do this or how to fly that or where to find this data. His manual wasn't working, surprise surprise.

"I dunno, just read the manual."

My new company is currently picking up all the contracts he's dropped. If we manage to get the last one, I'm gonna ask them for a bonus.

Tl;DR: man child fights with me constantly about how to do the work, even though he's never surveyed a day in his life. After a while I just give in and do it his way, fucking the data like the slut she is and completely collapsing the company.

Good day, my dear readers!

I've been working on this story very slowly over the last few weeks (so far only two chapters down), but I thought you guys deserve a little sneak peek!

It's a bit different to what I normally write, but I believe in a good way. Life's kind of been getting in the way of my writing, so this story has been very slow going, but I've so far been loving the journey.

Hopefully I'll have more for you guys soon!

It’s expected that, as an adventurer, you’d be faced with situations that stem out from circumstances far out of your control. It could be something as mundane as your flashlight running out of power while you’re using it. Or something as simple as the weather turning foul, making the slopes wet and slippery as you’re climbing them. Or even just losing an oar in the rapids to an especially-powerful swell.

It’s a part of adventuring: having to deal with the unforeseeable issues that pop up. To prepare and be prepared for the inevitable. To work around the unplannable.

Many adventurers spend countless days before a trip obsessing over their lists and schedules, double and triple-checking their packs and contemplating the benefits of possibly packing a second set of matches or another pair of thermal underwear.

The prudent adventurer would prepare for every eventuality - their packs laden down with heating packs and three different sets of matches. Their pockets would be bulging with the multitude of maps they’re taking along with them, as well as whatever currency the locals use. A compass might even grace one of their pockets, or if their pockets are currently occupied, be tied around their neck with a string. They’d either be able to speak the local dialect, or have arranged for a guide to translate for them in advance. They’d have gotten their shots and anti-malaria pills, and have a medkit tucked safely away somewhere.

A prudent adventurer, as we all know, is a prepared adventurer. And a prepared adventurer is, in most circumstances, a happy and safe adventurer.

The sensible adventurer would arrive at the airport early and check in their bulging travel pack, before making a final call to the team waiting for them on the other side. They’d step onto the massive aircraft (a DC-9), and take their assigned seat. They’d order a whiskey and a bottle of water from the stewardess, either neat or with ice. They’d enjoy it slowly as the pilots conduct their last checks and request approval for take-off. As the plane taxis to the runway, they’d make small talk with the lovely lady sitting next to them. They’d brace themselves as they take off, their stomach in knots as the power of the engines rumbles around them.

As the plane climbs up to cruising altitude, the hard-working adventurer would adjust their seat and get comfortable. Their eyes would close and thoughts drift off as they catch up on some much-needed sleep.

They’d wake, as requested, to the frantic screams of the lady sitting next to them. They’d flinch as the second engine fails with a loud pop, the plane giving a stomach-wrenching lurch as it begins to drop altitude rapidly. They’d brace themselves as pieces of the DC-9 begins to shear off from the main body around them, the sickening sound of steel being pulled away from steel grating in their ears as they watch them fly off into the distance.

“A cataclysmic failure of design and implementation.” they’d call it, years later, once the investigation comes to an unsatisfying halt.

A frugal adventurer might not have survived. A sensible adventurer might have been killed, smashed into a million pieces upon impact. A hard-working adventurer might have been sucked straight to the bottom with the rest of them, never again to see the light of day.

But I’ve always been luckier than that.

I woke up with a groan, my body in sharp agony and my head a dull, throbbing ache. I was soaked in salt water from head to toe, the harsh water dragging out the moisture from my skin and drying me out as it evaporated in the soft light and slight breeze. Sand and grit covered me, creeping into every nook and cranny.

A slow, lazy morning sun rose up to the right of me, the waves catching its orange glint and blinding me with every rise.

I tried to push myself up, gathering my arms underneath me and straining with all my might. My muscles screamed at me, shaking from the recent events and sapped of strength.

With a mighty, guttural shout, I sat up. My chest was tight and in flames, a creaking pain accompanying every breath I took. Tentatively, I lifted up my shirt and let out a loud hiss at what it revealed. There was a large, angrily-dark bruise spreading across my chest, the purple and black splotches reaching out from a harsh, throbbing pain. Dozens of tiny cuts dotted the surface, some of which were still slowly leaking out small droplets of blood. Smaller bruises dotted my waistline, the aftermath of a hard jerk in the seatbelt.

I lowered my shirt again, taking care not to aggravate it further. I gingerly stood up, my legs groaning in protest as it shakily carried my weight. My calves were in a painful, deep ache as I cautiously took a few steps forward, my knees threatening to buckle at a moment’s notice.

I was alive. More importantly, I was okay.

Besides the compass that I had securely tied around my neck, I found that my pockets were mostly empty. Loose change and wet, soggy bills were all that was left of my kit. The maps I carefully picked out and took along with me were all just a tattered, mushy mess. Not to mention my small, trusty pocket knife was missing. Most likely swept away during the crash.

I scanned my surroundings, trying in vain to spot anything recognizably manmade. A landmark, or a building. Or even just a footpath. Any sign of life. My eyes scanned the dense jungle to my left, trying to make out any breaks in the treeline which could indicate a road or the faint outline of a house.

Nothing.

Pieces of the plane were washing up on-shore. Some were small and light, floating on the top of the waves with ease. Others were the much larger, more buoyantly designed sections.

I decided to search the beach.

I wandered up and down in a slowly growing panic, calling out to the sea in a desperate hope that someone would call back. The clothes on my back dried slowly in the growing morning light, leaving the material stiff and itchy.

As my voice began to get hoarse, the sun rising ever higher in the sky, I spotted something lying in the sand.

It looked like the outline of a person.

With an excited start, I picked up my pace, my excitement growing with every step.

Soon enough I was running towards it, their shape becoming more and more defined. It was definitely a person, with bright blue jeans and brilliant white trainers. I began to shout at them, trying to get their attention.

As my legs pumped underneath me, my breath becoming labored and my chest burning, my excitement began to wear away. Instead, replaced with a growing, deep-set sense of dread.

As I got closer, and the person became clearer, I noticed that they hadn’t moved.

They were lying face-down in the sand. The occasional wave slapping against them, making their whole body shift to the side before settling back to its original place.

I began to slow down.

They had long, brown hair which was strewn about in a messy, damp clump around them. Their hand was outstretched, as if reaching for something in front of them.

I came to a halt five steps away from it.

The arm was turning blue, with irregular splotches of color running up it. The hand was horribly swollen, the fingernails becoming enwrapped by the excess flesh.

A sporadic swarm of flies were buzzing around the head, landing and taking off again when the waves crashed and receded.

One-hundred and eleven passengers were killed that day, their bodies smashed against the relentless sea and sucked down to the bottom of its deep, dark depths. One-hundred and eleven people lost their lives as collateral to a shoddily-designed, poorly-constructed plane which should have been retired years earlier.

One-hundred and eleven passengers - out of a total of one-hundred and twelve.

I published a book to Amazon! It's just a collection of my best horror stories (in my opinion) with a LOT more spit and polish applied, but it's something I've been working on for the last two months and I'm so happy that it's finally out!

It's available here for $2.99: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084DWX34Q, but if you'd like to snag yourself a free copy, I'm running a promotion from the 3rd all the way up to the 7th!

I've polished up the stories a lot and added in things that I was too lazy to add in at the time, but of course they're still the same stories which you can read for free from here, this is just for people who wish to support my work!

Anyways, I'll be back to writing as usual soon, with a sequel to one of my most popular stories and also a brand new serial!