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It seems like they could kill the villain directly with that ability.

Oh, no need…my ankle monitor can show me the way

Things would go wrong so fast.

"You can hold all the keys to your own prison cells and not know which lock to try first."

I looked up from the latest series of nonsensical orders. Already much used to the sight before me, all I could focus on was the slight furrow creasing my brow through my reflection, warped and distorted on Adam's surface.

"What are you talking about now?", I moved closer to Adam, or rather his receptacle, my interest piqued. It was rare that Adam bothered to talk to me, but when we did converse it was always a one way overload of information explaining a sequence of events that I could never have understood or comprehended without his sequential descriptions. But this was the first time he said something so… philosophical.

“You flip a coin and I can predict which side it’ll fall to a millionth probability, but you humans always surprise me with how casually your actions make even my inexhaustible databanks run full speed with every step.”

“Going all philosophical on me Adam? That isn’t like my favorite AI overlord, you know.”

“How long have we worked together now?”, the reflective metallic sphere that is Adam’s way of imaging himself floated closer to me.

“A decade now, give or take”, I replied. A decade of betrayal and bloodshed. My inner voice screamed.

“A decade of studying how I use the butterfly effect to save this continent. I admit that I don’t have the ability to explain what I do but yet you can’t get over the guilt you feel about taking my orders.”

Yes, a game where I’m the convenient pawn for your schemes, a game I can’t even tell how it plays, let alone its rules or my contribution to it. Out loud, I said, “The calculations you do are too much for me to understand, we both are aware of this fact and I still agreed to help you, and trust you. Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Come”, Adam floated out from his receptacle, a slight hiss announcing the complex shifting to make a path for us. Never did understand why he made a path for me to walk when he could just shift the rooms to me. A constant reminder of your mortality you idiot.There’s no way he will let you forget that you’re a pawn.

We walked through the curved neon corridor, bright and sterile enough to make it seem that we’re just walking in an infinite circle, though I can feel the slight shifts in the walls, made to confuse intruders. So that you can’t guide anyone through them, even if you had the courage to try. As if I had any left after the first time I obeyed Adams orders. Better to have died than be here, a constant reminder or how you killed her!

I muted the voice to a buzz as Adam started talking again. “I have tried several times to explain the eventualities that you helped me take to fruition, but I couldn’t. Especially because even a little bit of self-doubt from your questions and misunderstandings will lead to shifts that need to be recalculated”, he continued as we reached our destination, a small room with just a desk on it, “I couldn’t risk that.”

The room seemed like any ordinary office, I noticed that the walls were lead-lined, several inches thick and continuing with several layers of metals. That could only mean that the room was effectively sealed, a way for the AI’s to make sure a space has no effect other than emotional effects on the overall game board that they called Earth.

Looks like it’s finally time for you to be removed from the game. The mad voice cackled with glee, and for once I agreed to it. “What’s this?”

“The other continental AI’s call this a game. But I disagree. For me it’s a way to change and shift our world towards the better. But I had one single self-doubt, a risk I took.” A hollow thump sounded somewhere in the facility.

“Me, you mean?” Yes you madman, yes!

“Yes.”

“So this is it? Will you at least explain why?”

“Butterfly effects can last for a century or more, but this one I calculated precisely to this very moment. All that I did led to this, for it’s time I left you to choose your own path.”

I blinked in confusion, expecting this to be the end, but he kept talking, floating around the entrance while gently pushing me towards the table, where a single piece of paper was lying face down, as if inviting me to pick it up. I did, and saw the two words written in what seemed like an old fashioned typewriter. The thumps were now louder, the room slightly vibrating.

Adam continued, “You’re not a pawn, old friend”, I looked up sharply. His voice clearly held a note of pride now, “Knowledge given without context is more dangerous in their game than you think, but as I leave you now out there in the world, you will see the players in a much larger context if you remember all that we did together last decade.”

Finally I could hear the alarms of the facility being attacked. Was it my fault? Did they trace me somehow? Adam is doing some damage control, erasing the evidence and traces, you.

“This room leads to a secret facility out of the country”, Adams voice was failing, static covering his perfect pitch. I could only stare at him, and back to the piece of paper in my hands, which was rapidly disintegrating now that I read it.

“It was never my job to save this world”, he continued in a garbled voice as he pushed me further into the room with a blast of wind, “It’s yours”. And he closed the door between us.

I could feel the shift as the room was being whisked away, away from Adam and his servers. I couldn’t do anything else as I kept thinking back to our years together, connections and nodes suddenly making sense in my head, all the things I did, all coming together, including the fact that Adam will be wiped off, and this game left to me. A decade of actions coming together, though I can tell there are thousands of other branches which I can’t even fathom yet, but I will, all connected to the single message Adam left for me, with what I realized were his dying moments.

She lives. The mad voice in my head said, sounding lucid, wonder lacing it’s tone. I knew I would never hear the voice again.

It was time for the game to begin.

Adding this to my reading list riiiiight.... NOW.

Need some help with directions to the police station?

". . . so after I got hit by a truck saving a kid, I died, where God told me that I had died before my time. But in exchange, he told me I could reincarnate in a new world with all the memories of my old life. . . and one item from my own world."

"And you chose a gun?" Shadow asked.

"It seemed a good idea at the time," I said ruefully. "I mean. . . guns ended the age of the medieval knight, right? I figured that, with my gun, I would be unstoppable."

"Were you aware that our alchemists had learned the secret of black powder ages ago? And that gonnes were tried, but were deemed a dead-end technology?" the elf girl asked.

"I learned. . . quickly," I said. "The first time I shot at a bunch of bandits attacking a caravan, I thought I was going to be a hero. Then one of them held up their hand and deflected the bullet. Turns out that a simple Shield spell does a pretty good job of protecting from bullets as well as Magic Missiles."

Shadow sighed and rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "Yes," she said. "That would do it."

"They hit me with Hold Person, took me prisoner, and stole my gun," I said. "And that's how I ended up as a slave in the gladiator pits of Tharn."

"A place I know well," Shadow said. "I was a slave there once. It took me fifty years to win one hundred fights and earn my freedom."

"Yeah. . . well, I was lucky. Pitmaster Grimtooth decided I was too scrawny to make a good gladiator, and too dull to make good Manticore food, so he put me into the training course. Three months of high protein diets, constant exercise, and sword training. I figured that by the end of that time, I'd be a warrior true, and I could earn my way through the world by the strength of my arm and the steel of my sword. At least, until the first time I got put into a sparring match against another gladiator. Turns out that swordfighting wasn't my talent either. Grimtooth had given up on making me a gladiator, and I was due to end up as Hydra food, when I overheard him complaining to the Pit Lords about owing money to Senator Vornak. Which seemed strange to me because the Tharn Gladiator Pits were raking in money hand over fist, so why the hell weren't they turning a profit?"

Shadow laughed brightly, a sound like silver bells. "And that was when you made yourself indispensible to Pit Lord Olvan?"

"Yeah. . . turns out that Olvan had never heard of double-entry bookkeeping before. His scribes were skimming money off the top." I laughed ruefully. "It turns out that when God offered to let me take my prior knowledge and one item from my old world, the former was more important than the latter. Figuring out what was going on was child's play for any trained CPA. I managed to turn Olvan's business around, and his old scribes ended up as jobbers during the next gladiatorial games."

Shadow took a long sip of her icewine. "That still doesn't explain how you ended up here," she said.

"Well, it turned out that Olvan was good friends with Ser Ulrich. A lot of retired gladiators end up becoming sellswords, after all, and the Blue Daggers were the foremost adventuring guild in the land. Ulrich's books were better organized than Olvan's, but he was still running into issues with guildmasters stiffing him on their yearly tithes. Olvan figured that if anyone could figure out a solution to the problem, I could. So he set up the meeting, and we came up with a plan." I shook my head and sighed, memories of long nights by witchlight coming back to haunt me. "I thought I was done with middle management after I got hit by a truck, but it turned out that nobody in the Blue Daggers had ever learned project management. The guildmasters were trying their best, but they had never learned how to keep a project running smoothly, how to make sure people stayed on task without wasting time, how to value their employees rather than treating their workers like crap. It took me a year and a day of running the Valendil chapter of the Blue Daggers to convince them that my way would work better. After that, they had the guildmasters send me their best apprentices to train up in my method, and go forth to train up their own people. After some time, people outside the Blue Daggers asked me to help train them up on my method too, and I bought out my contract and went into business for myself. I got a charter from the Emperor. . . and here I am."

"And here you are," Shadow said. "And here I am as well."

"And here we are," I agreed. "Shall we get down to business?"

"Yes, indeed," Shadow said. "You understand, of course, that your tongue shall be cut out of your head and your eyes left for the ravens if you ever speak a single word of what I say to another living soul?"

"Jefferson Consulting Solutions treats client confidentiality as its top priority," I agreed. "Bound and sealed by a Tenth Level Geas."

"Very well," The black-clad elf woman smiled. "The Assassin's Guild wishes to undergo one of your 'restructurings.' Our members fight amongst themselves constantly, and bloodshed is common. What would it take to improve our organization's efficiency and prevent infighting amongst our members?"

"Sounds to me like you need one of our leadership retreats and corporate culture consultancies. If you look at our brochure here. . ."

So basically 'Alice in Borderland'?

Take a look at this. See if we can convince Harry to expand the menu-- J.

Dark Secret Behind Leesburg's Happy Streets

By Kelly Hu

Everyone has a home in Leesburg. It's town you'v likely never heard of. Just at the base of the Rocky Mountains. It also has the lowest rates of homelessness in the country.

It was not always this way. Walk around Leesburg and you'll see the remnants of Leesburg's recent past; abandoned tent cities, piles of cardboard, used needles, run through the city like veins. Yet Leesburg proudly proclaims itself as having "The Happiest Streets in America."

Look at this tweet from Leesburg Police Spokesperson Jennifer Warner-Scott proclaiming "another day making sure our #HappyStreets stay happy! :police: :policebadge: :tongueout:". The photo shows an abandoned tent city, once home to thousand of unhoused people who have all seemingly disappeared.

It would be a mystery, were it not for the 15th century Wallachian castle that is now occupying an entire city block, and the proud owner inside: Handric "Harry" Charesciu, community activist and vampire.

While the Leesburg PD would not answer any of Clackson's inquiries, Harry Charesciu was more than happy to speak with us.

He wears no cape, but a Patagonia weather breaker. If you met him on the street, you would take him for any work-from-home tech bro, with the exception of his scarlet eyes and prominent fangs. He says he moved to the United States for the healthcare, which he claims as "second to none in the world".

Unlike stereotypical depictions of vampires as decrepit and blood-thirsty aristocrats, Harry Charesciu presents himself as a "freelance public servant looking to use his unique talents to improve his community."

"It's a wonderful arrangement," Harry said in an interview with us. "The people of Leesburg have been just incredible. It is a far more welcoming environment for people with my condition. Here I am seen as a credit to community, not some monster to be feared. Believe me when I say that there is plenty of support for what I do."

That support does not extend to the family and friends who have mysteriously disappeared on Leesburg's streets.

Frank Yellin has recently brought a lawsuit against the Leesburg PD on behalf of his brother Dean, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia at age 14 and has lived on the streets for thirty years.

"We tried everything," Frank said. "We tried finding doctors, we tried getting him medicine...but it wasn't ever enough and he never could live in the house. So we just checked on him while we could until one day...one day he was gone."

Frank believes that Leesburg's mysterious "community activist" is to blame.

"Dean said to me, the last time I saw him, 'Frank, there's something drinking me at night. Sucking my soul up like a milkshake.' I went to go pick him up one day at his favorite spot and...he'd just been left out there, shriveled up like...and I'd only seen him the day before."

The Leesburg Police Department did not immediately return our request for comment. They later put out a statement that said, "We are committed and remain committed to using all the tools and resources available to support Leesburg's Happy Streets program, and are unable to comment on ongoing suits or legal action."

Just the top of my head peers out of the water, watching as the goons unload crates from a nearby semi onto their boat... Their island base sat empty with "For Sale" signs on the banks for years because of the lack of power lines. Guess that doesn't matter when you have technology that far outruns a regular generator....

Shockwave moved to the area 3 years ago and completely took over the lake... Business owners cower before him, and what was once a flourishing summer destination is now completely dead.... Why travel to a lake where everyone is scared to go on the water?

For years, my powers seemed pointless, but now I'm the favorite spy amongst the Gifted... Remember the intro scene to Percy Jackson where he's sitting in the pool? Sometime during my teens, I accidentally discovered that I could do the same. Breathing underwater was little more than a party trick, or so I thought... Now, it's the only way to get near Shockwave and his followers without getting launched into a nearby building.

So here I sit, peeking out of the water like a demented crocodile, gathering information for those with more interesting powers...

There came another soft rapping at the door to the royal commode where Prince Paul, first of his name, lay soaking in an oversized claw foot bath tub.

“Honey? Is everything okay? You’ve been in there for over two hours now and, well, it’d be a bit strange if you didn’t show up to your own party don’t you think?”

Ah, Princess Chloe with her heart of gold. Paul knew she meant well. She’d kissed damn near every frog and toad in the kingdom before ordering the draining of the swamp and forcing him out of hiding.

He clears his throat, but the croak is still there. “Just a few more minutes, dear!”

Yes, he knew she meant well, but she’d never understand. Paul didn’t quite understand it himself. There was the obvious: no having to tend to court matters, no speaking engagements, land disputes, or existential struggles. Was that worth giving up opposable thumbs, beautiful hair, and the love of friends and family?

They could learn to love me as a frog, he thinks. I learned to love me as a frog.

Chloe doesn’t wait. She enters the bathroom with her hair half in pins and regards her moisture-logged husband with pity.

“Come on then,” she says. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but your nephews haven’t seen you in over six months and they’ve been asking about you.”

Paul sighs and exits the tub, dries his pruned feet and dons a robe. “You know, I saw them not too long ago riding through Swamp’s Edge. If I hadn’t hopped out of Henry’s way, I’d probably still be squished into the mud.”

“See? This is why we were lucky to find you. I wish it hadn’t taken so long, but–”

“Yes, I know dear. If I’d had any of my faculties about me, I’d have been waiting just outside your door for true love’s kiss. The prey drive was just…awful,” says Paul, drying off his hair.

In truth, he had retained some of his human intelligence after that hag laid the curse on him. He could still make out the words of distant shouting huntsmen on certain swampy mornings. And in that half year as a frog, he also came to learn the language of beasts. Not that there was much of a language to learn beyond “tall bird! Take cover!” or “rain, glorious rain, let us croak and peep in celebration!” One could relish in such simplicity.

The princess leans in and kisses him on the cheek. “I’m just glad I don’t have to kiss any more of those hideous things,” she says. “But I’d do it all again to have you back.”

That could be arranged, the prince muses. All I’d have to do is upset Edith the Hag again, and it doesn’t take much. He smiles and returns the kiss.

“Well,” she says, “step to it! The feast starts in half an hour!”

“Excellent. I’m famished.” He pauses a second as the princess fusses with her hair in the mirror. “Do you think Chef Reginald will be serving any bugs?”

He sees the reflection of Chloe’s face turn into a grimace.

“Buns I mean. You know, those steamed buns he made last Christmas with the lovely mince in the middle?”

“You know,” she says, not turning away from the mirror, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you kind of liked your time under that curse.”

I suppose it's better you don't, he thinks.

I've heard of this, but after reading some snippets here and there it struck as something equivalent to mid 00s bad self insert fanfiction. But maybe I just got unlucky. With 10 million words there's bound to be some absolutely dreadful passages no matter how good the overall project is.

If we're recommending things along this line, there's an alternate history series, Island in the Sea of Time, that is also a mass isekai. Quite fun, quite goofy at times, I think it's overall pretty good if a society wide isekai appeals to you. It also takes place in the same universe as the same author's post apocalyptic fantasy series, if that sounds appealing at all.

Thanks for taking the time to read it. I'm glad you enjoyed it!

“How many times!?”

I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. Reports don’t lie. Printed, clear as day, in big black letters on bleached white paper were the figures. No matter how hard I squinted over my glasses, the numbers refused to yield and read the same with every passing.

Soul: 301199/YOR.

Heaven application status: Declined

Hell application status: Declined

Iteration No.126 ready for processing.

This soul has passed through here 126 times! How is that even possible? Surely Heaven or Hell would have picked this one up by now. No soul, and I mean none, has ever had to be processed here more than half a dozen times tops. There must be some clerical error. But reports never lie. I had to get to the bottom of this conundrum otherwise the big man upstairs would start asking questions.

“Dennis,” I buzzed over the intercom, “Dennis, get in now, would you?”

A moment later my lanky assistant sheepishly peered through the crack in the door, “You…you wanted to see me, Sir?”

“How is this possible? How come I wasn’t aware of this before now?” I slapped the report back down onto my desk with such fervour poor Dennis almost jumped out of his skin. These interns, so skittish and frail a strong gust of wind could blow them over and send them crying to their mothers.

“I…I…don’t understand, sir.”

“This damn soul! How has it come to pass through here 126 times!”

He stood there, gobsmacked, lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. His stammering was getting us nowhere.

“Is the soul still here?”

Dennis nodded.

“Send it up.”

Dennis nodded and left the room rather sharply, closing the door faster than he had opened it.

A few moments later and Dennis announced the errant soul was waiting outside. I buzzed my intercom, and the soul entered the room. It’s yellow-white wispy form glided across the space between desk and door, hovering several inches above the mottled greying carpet.

“Have a seat.” I gestured to the seat opposite mine in vain as the incorporeal form of a soul would find little use of a solid object. I cleared my throat out of embarrassment and began with proceedings.

“So…it says here,” I wafted the report around for dramatic effect, “that you’ve been through the system once or twice before. 126 times to be exact. I brought you up here to my office to come to an understanding about the reasoning behind your…persistence. Care to enlighten me?” For a few long moments the soul remained silent, gracefully bobbing both above and in the soft cushioned chair.

Then, in a voice little shattering glass and rolling thunder, the soul answered, “I made a promise.”

“A promise?” Not the response I was quite expecting, not to say I had any idea what it would say, “What sort of promise?”

“One that drove me to great lengths to keep.” Yellow-white whisps condensed into thicker clouds of blue and purple signifying great stress upon this soul. Clearly there was something going on that was truly affecting this poor fellow, but it was not being particularly helpful at present. My brow furrowed slightly at this disturbance which seemed to incite some agitation on the soul’s part as it then slowly began to speak once more.

“Many lifetimes ago I was a Human. My name was Jerry, and I had a typical life. Friends that came and went, family that I fell out and made up with countless times, money troubles. You know, all the boring normal stuff. I also had Jane.

Jane and I spent the most wonderful decade together, our love growing with each passing year as our relationship matured into something quite special. We were so deeply in love that I felt sick without her, I couldn’t go more than a day without seeing her face. It was meant to be. We are true soulmates.

Unfortunately, Jane got sick. Very sick. Cancer. Such an awful thing, but Jane was strong. She fought hard. She went to all the chemotherapy sessions, she took the medications they prescribed, she even had a few surgeries to help slow it down. In the end, none of that mattered.

Cancer eventually wore her down and took her from me. In her final moments I made a promise to her. A promise I have kept ever since. I promised that no matter how long it took me, no matter how many lifetimes I needed to search through, I would find her, and we would be together again.”

Despite not being affected by the same emotional conditions as the spirit before me, I could feel the pain radiating from it like the heat from the blazing sun. The poor thing was clearly in a lot of distress, and I had to help in any way I could.

With a start, I rose from behind my desk, snatching up the report and heading for the door. The lost soul watched me as I strode across the room and put on my jacket. As I opened the door, I turned to face the longing spectre and said with haste, “Well, come on then, we’ve got a soul to find.”

The soul leapt up from its chair and followed me through the doorway as we set out to find the long-lost love.

If you liked this, you can read more of my stuff at r/TheHiveWithUdders.

Somehow I know exactly what you mean even though I'm sure none of my friends with more than a generation age gap would understand what you said.

The knock on the door rattled the pictures on the wall.

"You really gotta knock that hard, Miss?" The frazzled delivery driver next to me spoke for the first time since we'd left Colorado.

"YES."

With that, the door swung open.

"What's all the racket?" A middle aged man in a t-shirt and boxers asked.

"Are you Don Harlan?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Well I'm the SONIC BOOM!" I tossed my cape with a dramatic flourish.

"What are you doing here?" Don asked.

"This isn't about me. See this guy?" I gestured to the driver. "This is Macario. He's got shit to do. His wife just had twins. When you order packages like this five minutes before midnight --"

Don interrupted. "I wasn't expecting him to actually deliver the package tonight! I made it impossible so the company would have to refund my shipping!" He laughed.

Macario's face hardened.

"Look, man. Macario's parents own this company. There's a real Jesus Gonzalez behind Jesus Gonzalez Trucking. Refunding shipping costs to goddamn eastern Nebraska is not cheap, and it takes a real financial toll on this guy's family."

"Not my problem. They can change their policy if they don't want me doing that."

"¿Bueno? ¡Papá! Lo siento que es medianoche..." Macario was already on his phone.

"It's 23:58," I said as I handed him the package.

"Well I'm not taking it now!" Don whined. "I can't afford the package and the shipping!"

"Too bad." With super speed, I pushed past him and grabbed a copy of the footage from his doorbell camera.

"Wait! Where'd she go?!"

"Right here," I said as I breezed by him again.

"...muchas gracias." With that, Macario hung up the phone.

He turned to Don. "The policy has been changed. Shipping refunds for same day delivery are available in the Denver area only."

Don unleashed a barrage of verbal abuse on Macario and me that turned the air blue.

"Hey Mac, you really wanna listen to this?"

"Nope."

"Stay right here! You have some nerve, thinking you get to decide when this conversation is over!"

Without another word, I hoisted Macario onto my back and ran west, back toward home and the babies.

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Very fun read, id love to hear more about his big dick adventures.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? Is freeing you against the rules?” I asked, incredulously.

The genie crossed their arms and sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “Look, it’s not against the rules, per se, but it isn’t a good use of your wish.”

“I mean, wish one gave me infinite wealth in a way that will not crash the economy and wish two gave me health and longevity, between those two things, I’m set for life.”

“True.”

“So why can’t I use my last wish to free you? I really can’t think of anything else I’d need.”

The genie dropped its arms to its side and slumped its shoulders. “Alright, you caught me. It’s not about you, it’s me.”

“You want to be imprisoned?” I crossed my arms and dropped into a chair. “You’d choose to be trapped in a tiny bottle for eternity than accept my help?”

“I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but look at it from my perspective. The awesome power and all that comes with it is tied to being a genie. If I’m freed, I’ll turn into a normal human.”

“So?”

“So, all that stuff that you just wished away. Rent, medical bills, grocery costs. Not to mention, I have no education or employment history. Would you hire me, in this economy?”

Realization dawned on me. “Oh…I get it.”

“Plus, the bottle has a library, Wi-Fi, and all the premium streaming. Every hundred years or so, I grant some buffoon- sorry- some wishes, and beyond that, my time is mine. I’ve got no complaints.”

I thought carefully for a moment. “Does it have a nacho cheese fountain?”

“No.” The genie furrows its brow, clearly not expecting that.

“I wish it had a nacho cheese fountain.”

With a laugh, the genie replied, “Granted!” And it and the bottle vanished before me.

You’re doing your best, you really are. Everyone is talking about how tragic the accident was and mourning the death of such a “bright young soul”.

Meanwhile, you do your best to take this secret to the grave. He would’ve done it for you.

Your mind wanders to the conversation a few weeks ago.

“How bad is it?” “Terminal.” “Are they…are they sure? I mean…how long you got?” “Weeks at most…maybe days.” “We can…I don’t know…go do some crazy shit, make the most of the time you got left?” “…dude…you don’t understand, the pain, I don’t know how I’m even sitting here. It’s so bad I can barely see you, there’s a halo around everything and…the hallucinations are getting worse…I don’t want to go out like this…I’m gonna end it, before it gets worse.”

You sat quietly, begging the universe for the right thing to say.

Leaning over, you gently hugged your oldest friend. Even the gentle contact causes a wince of pain.

“I understand.” “You can’t tell anyone. Ever. I don’t want them to know. It’s gonna look like an accident. You understand?” “Yeah.”

You had pulled a bottle out of your backpack.

“Hey…I know you don’t drink…”

He took the bottle and took a long pull.

“Seems like a good time to start. Not like I have to worry about my health.”

You both laughed and passed the bottle back and sat in silence. There was nothing left to say.

That was the last time you saw him.

When the news of the freak accident had come…it was no surprise and you resisted the urge to smile.

Sitting in the same place by the river, looking out over the water, “I’m glad you got to go out on your own terms old friend.”

The Black Knight; tall, darkly-armored, feared throughout the land...all because of an effective and entirely false smear campaign.

Leonard Wilmot. The hypochondriac nurse.

Happy to hear it. Thanks! :D