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> The Stormcrow, A Superhero's Tale
Acadian
post Mar 9 2024, 09:25 PM
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Cray’s picture link would not come up for me.

Jan in stiletto heels! Wow!

My initial thought about Jan’s helpful hacker was that it might be Cray. Cool how the same idea occurred to Jan.

Whoa! Kaelin’s polymorph potion finally bears some real fruit as January meets Stormcrow! A brilliant follow up after she saw how it worked vs the Dogman. This is a massive boost to her ability to protect her identity. And by extension, helps protect Barbara – which is important given her increased scrutiny as a wannabe politician.


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SubRosa
post Mar 10 2024, 12:12 AM
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Cray's pic is working for me on multiple different browsers. Maybe you just had a slow connection?


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Acadian
post Mar 10 2024, 01:22 AM
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Earlier it was throwing an error 404 but now is working fine. I'm sure it was your magical presence that fixed it. tongue.gif


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SubRosa
post Mar 10 2024, 02:20 AM
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Imgr is has been running really poorly lately. That is probably why.


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Renee
post Mar 10 2024, 12:15 PM
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Imgur has been acting up lately. All pics look okay from here. But a couple times recently, a pic I've posted (and which I know works on this Windows 10 browser I'm typing thru now) will not display on my cheapie laptop, or vice versa, or on some other computer (like the ones I can access at work). But this happens while a second and third link right below the missing pic DOES display. rolleyes.gif Sigh.

Right, plus what Patricia's doing would be hard to prosecute.

I hear ya (in regards to movies).

Detroit Riverwalk looks pretty. In B'more we've got the Inner Harbor, which looks wonderful from all those scenic pictures such as this one. Get up close to the water though, and there's the trash floating around. Trash, occasional dead fish, oil slicks floating on discolored waves. Blecch. Somehow, I think the Riverwalk isn't as yucky.

Aw, look at them all in fancier clothes.

"eidolon" there's a new word for me. noun,plural ei·do·la [ahy-doh-luh], ei·do·lons.
1. a phantom; apparition.

2. an ideal
.
Very nice.

Rooster Beak sounds like direct opposite of that other event from earlier in the summer, the outdoor one with all the drinkers. Can't remember its name at the moment, dangit. The one where Jan's brother lost his life, if I'm not mistaken. Edit: JOBBIE NOONER!

Ah. So here's Barbara trying to raise some money. 💰 I like the detail, describing how colorful and decorative this place is.

And indeed, while all this fancy stuff is going on, there's this online sense of DOOM. indifferent.gif Due to the wrath of Patty. Hmm, the Provocation of Patty.

QUOTE
Or that women's bodies were theirs, and theirs alone


thank you.

Uh oh, why is Avery scrolling??? And giggling while doing so? -------- Oh my gosh. indifferent.gif Holy crap that's .... I don't know. It's bad and it's good. Nobody should have their info posted like that. But then, it's also sweet revenge, in a way. Since they pretty much did the same thing to Jan.

Doxxing, another new term. Dictionary hasn't got a meaning, so let's head to Urban Dictionary. emot-ninja1.gif

someone who reveals personal information such as an email address, phone number or home address.
“hey did you hear how max dressler doxxed that girl on tiktok??”

“omg why would he do that??”
“because he’s a little b1tch DUH”
“yo facts”


laugh.gif laugh.gif

Interesting. Okay, so most of those thousands of replies on Twitt were just auto-generated, huh. Crazy.

QUOTE
It did feel a little better know that most of the outrage against her had literally been manufactured, but only a little. Seeing it all in text had a way of short-circuiting her rational, logical brain, and just punched her right in the emotional gut.


This. Very pertinent. It just kills, to see bad text uploaded for all to view.

"hacktivist" another new term, although this time don't need a definition. I can see why she didn't want to plug her podcast due to all the stuff going online, but let's say none of the Patty Cakes stuff happened, would that make any difference?

The cosplayer part is wacky! I'm sort of confused, but that's okay. I should read that part again later this week. Edit: Okay, I get it now. Kaelin, Lighthammer, and Harper are "behind the suits". Still, that's really freakin' risky though, to put likenesses of the three capes in front of the three actual capes who're being represented!

On the other hand, that's going to make potential donors and voters take notice. The heroes who saved the world stand behind Barbara Ward. Well, I believe they already are known to be backing her, but now they're in front of her as well. Like, literally in front, making their support more overt.

This post has been edited by Renee: Mar 13 2024, 03:41 PM


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WellTemperedClavier
post Mar 13 2024, 05:26 AM
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Nice introspective moment for January to reflect on some of the recent events. She's gone far.

Important though the fundraiser is, I can empathize with January's boredom. I'm somehow never in sync with those kinds of events.

Calling the platform "Twitt" seems more and more accurate these days (though I'll admit I was never a fan of the platform, even before Musk).

And yeah, January's right. If the people on top want to stay on top, that means they have to give up something.

Hm, seems like someone's on January's side, at least. Though I can understand why doxxing of any kind would feel uneasy. That sort of thing can spiral out of control, regardless of the original intent. Also can't help but think of that old phrase, something about how the enemy of your enemy is only the enemy of your enemy, nothing more.

I'm sure you've heard that RL Twitter is mostly bots these days. It's kind of creepy to think about, honestly.

Barbara's doing some difficult work here. Ultimately, it's probably best for her to just be open about what happened. Everyone already knows, anyway.

January understands the politics of the situation demand a certain level of comportment. Not fun, but politics rarely are.

Wait, she's shaking Stormcrow's hand? Huh?

Ohh, I see. Clever move to to use the polymorph potion this way. Plus, it helps disassociate January from Stormcrow in the public eye. Seems like a productive night all around!
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SubRosa
post Mar 16 2024, 05:47 AM
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Acadian: January is not much of a girly-girl, but she can work her feminine charms when she wants to.

I originally was thinking that the team might have Gola use her illusion powers to trick people into seeing January and company alongside the Alliance in their super suits. But that had issues, namely that Gola's powers are telepathic. They affect people's minds, but not video cameras. Then when I was working on the Michigan Dogman chapter and came upon the polymorph potion idea, I realized that it was the perfect solution. Now it has finally reached its fruition.


Renee: The Detroit River does look nice up close. No garbage or dead fish or oil slicks or anything like that. It just looks like river water. You know, not that crystal clear blue of the Caribbean, but that murky greenish brown that freshwater lakes and rivers get because of all the mud and plants in them. People go fishing on the river, and even swim and kayak around Belle Isle where that is safe (the main channel is dangerous because of freighter traffic, and it can have some really dangerous undertows and riptides). Here is a kayaking video I just found that shows the river.

The Roosterbeak is the exact opposite! Jobbie Nooner is just a bunch of drunks on boats converging on an uninhabited island. The RL Roostertail is a classy event space.

I am surprised that doxxing is not in your dictionary. It is a pretty common term nowadays. Sadly because it is a pretty common thing since Gamergate. The same with Swatting, which it is often tied up with.

January would not want to plug her podcast on TV in any case. As she was thinking at the time, it just feels gauche and like shameless self-promotion to her. And it is, and everyone does it anyway. Which is why Avery was all for it.

It is not that risky of Kaelin and company to impersonate the Allies. They are using polymorph potions after all. They *are* physically identical to January and the others. As January noted, they have the exact same voices, the same shades of skin coloration, same bodies, etc... Only a skilled mage looking in astral space would have been able to see through it.


WellTemperedClavier: At this point in the story so much has happened, that almost every place January goes to has some sort of memory tied to it. Or to a location they pass to get to it. Like Belle Isle, or Gull Island, downtown Ann Arbor, etc... It is kind of neat. I like how that makes the world feel more real and solid.

My other alternate name for Twitt was Titter. I never got into it either. I remember when it first came out a friend explained it to me, and I just thought it was moronic. I never thought about how it could be used to promote toxic and outright evil propaganda upon the world. I just don't give a crap about what some stranger has to say about what they had for breakfast, or what they thought of a movie, or anything else.

The doxxing part made me feel uneasy too. That was ultimately why neither Cray or Avery was behind it. They would not have gone that far, because of how dangerous it can turn out to be. At the same time though, there was no denying how good it would feel to them to see it happen, given that turnabout is fair play and all. So this time it is an anonymous hacker. Which I did like, as it gave me the opportunity to show that not everyone in the world hates January. She has people on her side that she does not even know about.

Now January has proof that she is not Stormcrow. And a pic that she can put on her fridge of her shaking a real superhero's hand! biggrin.gif Now that I think of it, it makes me think of Office handshake meme. smile.gif











Witch House Floor Plans

MRAP

The Keffals Swatting was an inspiration for today's events




Book 12.17 - Broken Arrow

August 20 (Tuesday morning)

January lay on the cold marble floor of the Belle Isle Casino. A runic circle was drawn out around her in little yellow ridges of cornmeal. She traced the path of these from the circle she was trapped in, to an even larger summoning circle not far away. A third and final circle was connected to that as well. All three joined together to create a "V" shape. As Avery had once described it, it was a simple circuit: with two power sources feeding into a load.

She tried to kick out and sweep the small lines of cornmeal away. But her foot struck an invisible barrier, and bounded away helplessly. She rose to her knees next, and beat upon this invisible wall with her fists. But they too were turned aside like a leaf striking a glass window.

Then she heard the voice. It was a mocking laughter that rolled across the marble floor and filled her ears with dread. She knew it. It was the Hierophant's voice. It was her brother Julian's voice. It turned her heart to ice, and her knees to water.

She looked up and saw that the sound issued from a figure clad in a black and white Dominican friar's robe. A cloth mask covered his face. But somehow she could see through it regardless. It was the face of the Hierophant. It was the face of her brother Julian. It was the face of her father Romulus. It was the face of Patricia Fine. It was the faces of the bullies who had tormented her in school. It was even the face of a giant spider, that massive green-eyed djieien that had nearly killed her at Ferndale Pride.

The figure raised his hands and the ritual started. Only this time he was not the one who was thrown to the marble floor, and dragged across its cold, smooth surface. No, it was January who felt the air crushed out of her lungs. It was she who felt that invisible force smash her down into the marble below. It was she who flailed with fingers and toes against the smooth, polished stone.

What had gone wrong? It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be the Hierophant who was killed by his own spell. She had changed the runes, and reversed their working. What had happened? How had it gone wrong?

She stared wildly at the symbols in Elder Futhark that bordered the runic corridor that she was being drawn down, the one that led inevitably to the summoning circle at the heart of the massive rune. They were the originals. They had not been altered. Why had she not changed them?

Where was Gola? The raven mocker had been there before, and had distracted the Hierophant while she subverted his ritual. But there was no sign of the undead Cherokee woman. Not a single feather. Even the corpse of the original Dogman was missing, as were the other supernatural henchmen the Hierophant had gathered. There was only her nemesis, mocking her from his own circle that controlled the ritual. It was just her and him now.

And that terrible end point, which she now careened inevitably toward. She heard a new laughter now. It was a low, thick baritone, rich in cruelty and command. She instantly recognized its owner as Nátthrafn, her eight times great-grandfather. He was the Shadow King and harbinger of the world's end, and he was triumphant.

His laughter rose up all around her now, even as she felt her legs stretch out longer and longer. In a moment they popped out of their sockets at the ankles, then knees, and finally hips. Her flesh and bone stretched out beyond all recognition. They turned into a hideous form of spaghetti, pulled and twisted all out of shape or recognition.

A new series of screams came to her ears now. This was a desperate, high-pitched wail. It was a screech. It was the plaintive call of a lost soul that knew it was damned.

Finally it dawned upon January. She was the one screaming.


January bolted awake. She was at home in her bed. The light of the morning sun glowed through the windows that faced the back yard. That made it easy for her to see how rumpled her white sheets were, in addition to the dampness from sweat that now soaked them. The watermelon-colored comforter that usually topped them had nearly completely fallen away, and now lay half on the hardwood floor nearby.

She sat there for long moments and gasped for breath. With a conscious effort she willed herself to ease up, to slow her breathing, and feel her power. She drew up her magic from within herself, and allowed the cool stream of mana to wash through her frame. She tried to push out thoughts of the nightmare. Instead she concentrated on her breathing, and felt of the magic course within her.

Soon enough her heart slowed to a steady beat and her lungs relaxed into slow, regular breaths. She dragged her fingers through her long blonde hair, and let it hang down behind her shoulders and along her back.

It had just been a nightmare, again. It had not surprised her when they had started after the Battle of Belle Isle. She had been kidnapped and nearly murdered there after all. But she had thought she would have worked it out of her system by now. Obviously that was not the case. The bad dreams still came so many nights. So too did the all-too real flashbacks during the day, and less vivid ideations about the Hierophant's death.

She would just have to work through it. What else could she do after all?

She glanced at the glowing numbers on the electronic clock that sat upon the plain white end table beside her bed. It was still early. But January was a morning person anyhow. She might as well get up and get moving.

Maybe it had just been the sunlight that had caused the nightmare and woke her up? Sure, that was it. It was totally not that she was carrying around a load of trauma caused by the horrific events she had lived through. She was a superhero after all. That sort of thing did not bother people like her. Everyone knew that.

Maybe if she just kept telling herself that, she would believe it?

She was in and out of the bathroom, and was in the process of getting dressed when a new sense of threat blossomed within her mind. It was the witch bottles around the house. They were going off inside her head like a silent alarm, warning her that someone was coming up the driveway. In fact, it was a lot of someones, riding in numerous cars and vans and even an armored truck.

Through the wards she felt the auras of the men - it was almost entirely men - who rolled up to the house. They were dull with mundanity. But dark clouds of aggression roiled around them, tinged with the acrid stench of apprehension. Hands wrapped around rifles. Eyes dashed this way and that, looking for targets. Fingers lurked near triggers, ready to wrap around them and just squeeze.

January's bathrobe vanished, and she was in her Stormcrow armor an instant later. She ran out of her bedroom to the balcony that ringed the second floor rotunda in the center of the house. The grand staircase to her left curled down to the ground floor below. But instead of taking that, she bounced up to the handrail, and leaped across the space to the far side.

She was just in time to see Ryo spill out of his bedroom. He too was clad in his gray, black, and white Ôkami armor. The two of them raced to the loft in the right front corner of the house, the one that bordered the driveway. Through its windows they saw a fleet of police cars, SUVs, and even a military-style MRAP covered in armor plate.

Red and blue lights flashed brightly from the vehicle's roofs, while men in body armor spilled from their doors. They carried AR-15s and a few sniper rifles. Leading the pack of black-clad infantrymen was a cop holding a battering ram. It was a bright red steel cylinder capped with a wide flat head, which he held by handles that sprouted from its rear and top.

He raced straight up the steps of the front porch. His compatriots were just a step behind, their rifles at their shoulders and trained upon the windows. The first cop did not pause at the front entrance. Instead he used his momentum to send the battering ram directly into the face of the door, beside its knob.

January braced herself for the shock of the door splintering under the impact. But instead the cop and his weapon simply bounced off harmlessly. At the same time the wards attached to the house warned January of the impact. But she could also feel through them that they were quite intact, thank you very much. Keziah Talmadge had crafted those defenses. It would take far more than one man with a hunk of metal to break them down.

January balled her hands into fists. She heard her knuckles pop loudly as she raised them in front of her. She reached out to open the window. She had no idea what those cops were doing. But right now she did not care. Lightning flashed brightly against the sky outside, and Valhalla yearned for new arrivals...

Ôkami raised one hand to hers, and gently pushed her fists down. She glanced at him, and he silently shook his head. He did not need to say anything. At this point she had known him long enough not to need words to understand him. He was once more reminding her that this was not the time to meet force with force, but rather to subvert it.

He turned and went to one wall of the corner room that they stood within. His hand stretched out, and the secret panel that hid the stairway leading up to the sanctum magically melted away. January followed, seeing his plan. Along the way she spoke to the mini-computer built into the left forearm of her armor.

"Sága, call Cray, emergency," she said clearly.

They charged up into the sanctum a moment later. But they did not pause to take in the grandeur of the space-warping room, which was both a cube, a triangle, a sphere, and numerous other shapes and sizes all at once.

Instead January summoned the waypoint hidden within the mosaics laid into the floor. It responded to her blood, and a moment later it glowed to life as a pentacle around them. January flipped through the rolodex of other waypoints, and settled upon the Raven's Nest. She focused her will upon that place, and the power within the runes joined her waypoint to it.

The magic faded, and then they stood in the western quadrant of their skyscraper headquarters. This had once been Blood Raven's genealogy study. Now it was a Gothic-Victorian sitting room, with red velvet couches and chairs set around elegantly carved wooden tables. Through the windows outside rose the tan stone and decorative columns of the Book Cadillac hotel, and the Brutalist concrete skyscraper of the Federal Building.

They both strode through this lounge area to Cray's computer domain, which lay kitty corner to the south-east. Now the Detroit River and a forest of skyscrapers rose up beyond the French windows that lined the wall. The hacker was not there. But his computers still glowed with life around them. Ôkami strode to the massive table computer that took up the center of the space, and began tapping upon its screen.

"Cray here," the elder hacker's gruff, but mellow tones filled January's ears from the earpieces in her helmet.

"We need you at the Raven's Nest," January explained crisply. "The police are trying to break into the Witch House."

"What!" Cray exclaimed. "What the hell? Why?"

"We were hoping you could tell us that," Ôkami's voice echoed through both January's comlink and the air around her.

"I'll be right over," the hacker explained.

January waited while Ôkami brought up the security cameras they had long ago installed around the Witch House. January had never imagined that they would be needed for more than identifying possible porch pirates stealing packages from the front door. She had never expected to need them to observe a full on assault upon her home.

Welcome to America.

"This has something to do with Patricia Fine," Ôkami declared as they both stared at the video camera footage around the house.

"Crap, yes," January planted one palm against her forehead. "She doxxed me all over Twitt yesterday. But I was expecting angry letters, threatening pictures, swastikas spray painted on the sidewalk. Not the cops."

"Remember the Death Dealer?" Ôkami referred to the errant chemist who had created Crystal Death so recently. It was the name the state police and later the media had used for him. But January had never liked it. It made him sound too cool, like the protagonist of a Frank Frazetta painting. He was just a loser with a chemistry set who had killed a lot of people, and reduced others to brain-dead vegetables. He was more like the Crystal Choad in her mind.

"His henchman lost to a kid on World of Guncraft, so he called the cops on him," the samurai reminded her.

"Yeah, what was that guy's name?" January wondered aloud. That was when she had met the Emergency Response Team of the State Police, and that asshole who led them. Then again, it was also when she had met their sniper Nyah: yet another goddess to add to the list. Where did they all come from? Was there an island of super hotties that they just floated out from at regular intervals?

"ThunderRhino666," Ôkami noted. How he could remember that was beyond January. She had almost completely forgotten the guy.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Midlife Crisis himself," January murmured. "That guy blew their whole operation, over something as petty as being tea-bagged in a video game."

"This is why we have to keep our cool," Ôkami declared. "I use people like that to remind me of how not to behave."

January felt her cheeks redden at the remark. She had been ready to go out and throw down with the cops on the front porch of her house. What had she been thinking? The answer of course was that she had not been. She had simply been reacting on emotion. In her case, the instinct to fight back when attacked.

Even still, when she looked at the police milling around her home, she wanted to ball her hands into fists and punch something. As a Queer person, the police had always been amongst the greatest of the boogeymen in her world. They had a long and sordid history of institutionalized violence against people like herself after all. Fighting back against them had been what Stonewall and the Gay Liberation movement had been all about.

But as an albeit vaguely defined leftist, January's natural instinct was also to work with others in a community. That liberation movement had not secured rights for her and others through individuals acting alone, but by groups organizing and acting in concert. It was the same reason there was an eight hour work day, and a forty hour work week, and the like. People acting together were always stronger than by themselves.

January's whole super life had been that way. Right from the very start she had had a partner in Gadget, giving her real time intelligence during every fight, and even just lending her advice. She never would have learned to use her wings without Lighthammer. She never would have survived the djieien at Ferndale Pride without Blood Raven. She never would have defeated the salamander at Montserrat without Calypso and Viuda. She never would have survived the Hierophant's summoning circle at Belle Isle without Gola. She would never have escaped the Abyss without Hannah.

Even before then, she never would have made it through school with people like her gym teacher allowing her to change in her office. Not mention without her mother and Adin to teach her martial arts. Then there was Blackjack and the other Knights of Nerddom, who were always much better than she was at cleverly insulting the bullies when they picked on her.

All of her successes came with the help of others. So naturally as a cape she wanted to work with authorities like the police, and attorney general, and governor. But times like this made it really, really hard not to take the Blood Raven approach instead.

Cray came in while she still fumed. The normally impeccably dressed hacker wore his pajamas and a threadbare bathrobe. His graying hair was a mess above his glasses, and a half-eaten bagel protruded from his mouth.

He mumbled something through a mouthful of his impromptu breakfast, and raced over to the table computer. His fingers flew across the screen that stretched out across the table top, and one holographic window sprang up after another in his wake. Reports and other data flowed down these floating displays.

January and Ôkami stepped back and let him work. January could not keep up with everything the hacker was doing. She did realize at one point that he was cracking the Sterling Heights Police Department's network. More data spilled out afterward, among them was an email sent to them earlier that morning, along with the City Manager, Mayor, and members of the City Council.

"Hello, my name is Jen Ward…I am a transgender person. I have had enough of you anti transgenders being in positions of power and oppressing us. You finally broke me, you cisgendered transphobic a-holes. When this is over this entire city will remember my name. I have killed my transphobic mother and today I will be going out to city hall and shooting every cis-gendered person I see with a gun I illegally acquired."

A photo of an AR-15 was attached.

"This was sent earlier this morning," Cray murmured. He moved down along the table computer, and created even more screens. She saw email addresses, IPs, and MACs flowing across display after display.

"January would not misspell her name as 'Jen'," Ryo noted. "And the rest of it is just nonsense. It is a conservative's idea of what a progressive sounds like."


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Acadian
post Mar 16 2024, 08:53 PM
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A really well-done and effectively haunting dream that really emphasizes that sometimes the fight’s not over just cuz the killin’ stops. On a lighter note, it shall be some time before I’m able to enjoy a plate of spaghetti without imagining poor Jan. tongue.gif

Swatted! Jan’s initial response is predictable; after all, the force at her door has clearly violated the Buffy doctrine. Fortunately, Jan’s voice of reason does not dwell inside her but is her sage roomie. The cops don’t know it’s a Swat yet and if Jan responded with force, they’d be victims too.

Hopefully, Cray can sort out the culprit behind the assault. Jen Ward indeed.


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Renee
post Yesterday, 03:56 PM
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Okay yes, that doesn't look so bad in that video. When we get outside the Inner Harbor as it leads closer to the Chesapeake that's also not so bad. It's only close in, ironically where all the tourists are. Granted, most of them ain't looking into the water...

I looked up Doxing at Dictionary.com! biggrin.gif Actually, I spelled it with two X's last week, that's why it didn't show. Because I just tried it with one X and now a definition pops up. ... But then you also spelled with like doxxing. Hmm. Mystery.

Ah, I see. She's not wanting the "look at me" thing going on, now that she's in front of a bigger audience. And okay, got it (about the cosplay part). Uh oh. Why is she lying on a cold floor? OKay, seems like this is ... she's having a flashback. Or a nightmare. ph34r.gif

OH my gosh, Nátthrafn is laughing. All these evildoers, they just love to laugh, diabolically so. EEsh, this is messy. He's tearing his 8x great-grandbaby apart. Come on, now.

QUOTE
Maybe if she just kept telling herself that, she would believe it?


That's a great statement. So true. I used to say stuff like this all the time as a new mother during the 2000s...

Whoa. Rifles? Red & blue lights. Big trucks. Remind us, how close are the Witch House neighbors? Are they gonna be able to see all of this as they head to work, get kids ready, etc.?

Had to look up Frank Frazetta's work. Here's some of it, anyway.

World of Guncraft! laugh.gif There are some humor moments during this scene, despite all the ruckus going on. I'm LOl'ing a bit, which I kinda feel bad about. "Island of super-hotties!" laugh.gif It's like Ryo & Jan are so accustomed to being surrounded by chaos they can make jokes, even as the world's falling apart.

Gotta say though, it is weird they're trying to break into the house at all. Why not just knock? Makes me think something really powerful is going on. Maybe President Frump himself is somehow involved, trying to stop Barbara Ward. Or something.

Yeah exactly. Jen Ward? That's exactly the first thing I noticed too, that's not how her name is spelled at all, even casually. And why would she sign her own name to such a document anyway?

Sheesh.

This post has been edited by Renee: Yesterday, 04:01 PM


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