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How did she fit the gun in her bag? How did she get a gun in Japan? Is it a rifle or a musket? We'll never know.

"So, I'm sure you saw this coming, but we have some questions about your resume," the Amnodyne recruiter said with a chuckle.

"Of course, I'd be worried if you didn't," I replied with a chuckle of my own. "Which one do you want to start with?"

"Let's go for why you left SkyCat."

"Ah, she went for the Federal Reserve. Had herself locked up tight after that, so I had to get a new job. She'll happily vouch for me. I put the prison's number on there."

"And what about Jenerator? I note you worked for her both before and after her turn."

"Yeah, as a villain, it was another arrest. On the hero side, it was just temp work. Research for the Tarvaxi Invasion. My team tagged over a hundred of their spies. But once it was done, they let us go."

"Fair enough. I'm just going to cut to the chase. Most people don't flip back and forth so often. Why should we trust you not to turn again?"

I laughed heartily. Even after hearing this question so many times, it always hit me funny. "I've never turned. I just don't care who's cutting my paycheck. None of y'all are completely evil or good. And I got bills to pay." It was a lie, of course, but a good one. "As for trusting me, you'll see I've never quit a job."

"Okay. Figured that was the case. And yes, everyone we called did praise your work. Except the Perpetually Wailing Maw, but that's understandable. You have the job if you want it." She slid a clipboard over to me, the job offer on it.

I glanced over it before signing, a lesson I learned early in life. When everything matched what I was told, I grabbed a pen and signed.

I guess I should clarify, Amnodyne's one of the biggest employers of superhuman in the world. And one of the biggest exploiters of superhumans, as well. My bosses, my real bosses, were hoping to get some evidence, so I was going in.

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He just opened Pandora’s Human?

From the use of identifying colours as names, to the over the top American flair of the protagonist, it was simply perfection!

 You're a freelance henchman/ sidekick for hire. You're happy to switch sides depending on which job pays better or gives you better benefits. 

The musket can hold 20 rounds in it’s four round magazine and I hope she didn’t forget the explosive bullets

Perfect

I’ll let you know when I get the next part uploaded!

Same, I'd be friends with a Westaboo

The bell rang all over campus, the teenagers started off to their classes, each in a neat and tidy uniform, and almost all of the students had well kept black hair. Almost all.

One group of girls were close together, walking along in their uniforms and techno neon hair colors. Four students in total, with bright Red, Green, Pink, and Blue hair in different outlandish and complicated styles.

“Come on Aka! We need to get to class before we’re late again!” The girl with green hair says, tugging at the sleeves of the red haired girl.

“Calm down Midori!” Aka replies, moving slower as she had a toothpick in her mouth. “We’re going to get there soon enough, besides, have we ever been late, Ao?”

“No, we have not been late.” The blue haired girl says, shaking her head “we just keep vanishing in the middle of class.”

“Blame those shadow hounds!” The pink girl says, walking backwards to face the other three.

“They clearly don’t care about our class schedule Pinku” Ao says, adjusting her glasses as she turned a corner to start up the stairs. “We just need to…” she dragged on, stopping as she looked ahead.

Pinku turned to see what had stopped the normally talkative Ao from talking, and shifted as she saw something out of place.

On the stairs was a tall white girl, her uniform decently kept, her long brown hair hanging in down her back, only guided by a hair band. She had on a strange burger shaped back pack that had a cowboy hat tied to the top of it. She seemed to be talking to a boy of similar style but with a more normal backpack and a larger hat on top of it.

“Oh! You must be the Americans we heard about?” Aka says, smiling softly to the pair.

“Oh, yes!” The girl says, smiling and holding her hand out to shake Aka’s have before pivoting to a slight bow. “My name is Molly, this is my brother Axel” she says, her Japanese being decent.

Axel bowed softly and smiled “we just came here from America, still getting used to Japan. My sister says a lot happens here” he says, his own Japanese not quite as good as his sisters.

“Well, I’ll try and help you out when I can” Midori says, “but your sister is right, a lot happens…”

“I know” Molly says, nodding “I know…” ————————————————————— It wasn’t even lunch when Pinku had to hit the button on her watch, warning the others that another portal had opened up. “It’s close this time, get to the old gym, quickly!”

The four girls ran off and out of class, much to the irritation of their professors, the four running to the older part of school where they could hear panicked screams of a girl.

“Power Up!” Pinku shouted, changing into her magical girl outfit which wasn’t much of an outfit at all, only really covering her face with a mask. The other three did the same, rushing out to the old gym where one of their class mates named Shi was being circled by 3 ghost hounds, with a fourth humanoid hound leader watching.

“Ah! I see the magic girls have finally shown up!” He shouted, waving his hands at Shi, a wave of shadows reaching out and tossing the school girl to the bleachers behind him. “I saw what you did to Tora, and I assure you, that will not happen today!”

“We’ll see about that!” Ao says, however before the fight could start the doors behind the girls opened again, being Molly.

“Starting off without me?” Molly shouted, still in her school uniform as she took her burger backpack off, setting her hat on her head.

“What are you doing here!” Pinku shouted, “you need t-“ she began until Molly opened her 1.5 foot round bag and pulled out a 5 foot long Musket.

The girls stopped and looked at molly, even the hound leader looked in confusion “what on the four plains is that?” He asked.

“A Kentucky Rifle” Molly says with a manic grin on her face. “Just as the founding fathers intended.”

Moar!

Pretty sure this prompt just describes the US dub for CardCaptors.

He took the opportunity to read the restricted papers again- quadrapedal but tauric, with limbs that might function as hands, but unconfirmed since the subject refused to come out of hiding to eat or interact. Prehensile tail, clawed front feet and hooved back feet on the lower body to enable both high-speed land running and climbing ability.

Tommy wondered, thoughtfully, if anyone had tested if the subject liked running or climbing more. He knew HE got bored of the same jungle gym after a week, and nobody had been in to change a single thing in the enclosure in the entire year the subject had been here.

It must be desperately in need of enrichment- he couldn't think why else his professor would prompt him to play with it.

Well, he had various types of engagements in his pouches and pockets, belted around his own tauric waist and saddlebags slung over his first shoulders, so he should be able to find SOMETHING the subject would be interested in!

The click of the intercom drew him from his thoughts as he exited the decontamination chamber.

"Now the results I need are the subject's motor capabilities- how fast, how flexible, etc. Get me whatever results you can, and I'll call it a day."

Odd word choice, Tommy thought. Wouldn't it be 'we' will call it a day?

"Copy, Professor! Can you make sure the indoor running track is clear then?"

Tommy promptly ignored the Professor spluttering and asking what that was for- he was a professor, he'd figure it out! He focused on hauling the side of beef he'd brought in to the designated feeding zone, where he put it on the two hooks that were there to hold it in place and make it easier for the subject to eat, holding it vertically.

Then he pointedly turned away from the beef, and settled in a full loaf position with his torso facing away, though he was watching out of his periphery. Vague equine markers hinted the subject might naturally live in herds; this would mean they would have 'herd guards'. If Tommy could slip into that role, it would be much easier to get the subject to follow him to the track to run. It would also get them psychological data- and make it easier to study the subject, since then having 'herdmates' socialize with it would help calm it immensely after stress.

Now it was a waiting ga-

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Tommy, it must be said, was normally a very calm person. Level-headed, perhaps easily embarrassed when certain subjects were broached, but soft-spoken and prone to reaching for the kindest solution first. If asked, his coworkers would call him shy, a bit of a wallflower, maybe even a pushover.

Docile, in a word.

If any of them stopped to think about what Tommy actually /was/, they would have realized that was the wrong word. They were thinking of him as 'harmless'.

There has never been a Dragon of the Deep Places born HARMLESS.

The sudden intercom shout disrupted his concentration, when he had been deliberately sinking into a different mindset than usual so he would project the correct body language: that of a herd guard, on lookout for any changes in the environment that might signal danger. Predictably, then, the shouting caused an equally predictable reaction, even if the Professor and every other being in this research center would never have thought to predict it of Tommy in particular.

All at once, Tommy was out of his loaf, and all four paws had sunk claws into the dirt of the enclosure knuckle-deep, tail whipping wide to ensure behind him was clear and safe as his humanoid face elongated into a proper snout, needle-teeth in their rows on display as he bellowed out a challenge-warning roar that shook the room up to the rafters. Dust came cascading down onto his sensory frills (placed where mammals had ears), but flicking them cleared it off so he could continue to listen. His pupils had pinned down in the searing light of the enclosure, and with his real vision in play he could see that many things on the observation deck had been shaken to the floor, including the Professor.

His throat vibrated with the back-and-forth low chord of Alert, but other than moving his head to visually sweep the entire enclosure- ceiling, floor, walls, glass windows of the deck- he didn't move.

Behind him, he felt a warmth approach, from the barely-adequate foliage, and he warned them with a frill-flick before turning his head to glance over.

His first thought was the report didn't note anything about the rich, green-black coat of the subject and that was a travesty. They had reddish glints in the keratin of their hooves, and peeking from the prehensile tail- scales to protect when climbing, maybe- as well as positively stunning pupilless eyes that seemed to glow, like molten silver. The face shape- yes, definitely semi-equine. His dragon snout must make him look more familiar than any of the humanoids.

They positioned themselves on his right flank- yes! Right where they would to follow a herd guard in fight or flight! It offered the best position to run past the guard while they engaged an enemy, if it came to that.

"Open the door and clear the way to the running track," Tommy said, with some difficulty over the still-thrumming Alert. They weren't the same vocal chords, but training himself to be heard- and use both systems simultaneously- had been hard. Worth it for moments like these.

"I have persuaded the subject to trust me. As a herd guard. I will take them for a run so we can measure endurance and speed. And maybe throw a ball to see about reflexes. I CANNOT keep talking, sir."

Some shuffling, a few clanks that made him look up sharply and lift his lip in a warning and drop his growl an octave from Alert to CEASE AND DESIST, and then he saw the professor making calls on the radio. He kept mostly still, except for a few shifts of weight to indicate to the subject he was searching for escape routes.

The click of the intercom.

"The way is clear. Can you keep them from panicking during decontamination?"

Tommy simply nodded, and when the door whooshed open, he stepped into it fast, indicating he knew what it was and where it led. He was gratified when the subject trailed him in-step. He mock-snapped at the hissing decontamination gasses- they weren't actually harmful if they got in the mouth, but he didn't look like a good herd guard if he didn't 'spook' a little.

The hallway was empty and the track was open, ad promised. He grinned and he broke out into a full gallop- and laughed out loud, sweet and thrumming, when his new herdmate thundered past him and started to circle near the door, giving high-pitched little jeering taunts.

To a human, the subject's language sounded like pinpipes, whistles, delicate bells made of precious metals and windchimes.

Tommy heard it as a name.

"I am NOT old! It's not my fault you're Quicksilver and I'm a Leadfoot! Once I get in there we'll race for real!!"

I think this copypasta is supposed to be a scathing satire of weebs with a shallow and stereotypical view of Japanese culture, but far from finding it offensive or cringe, as an American, I would love it if Rawhide Kobayashi was both a real person and my next-door neighbor. Let's go rope some steers and then have a friendly branding-iron duel, you magnificent beeawoo bastard!

It’s because of stereotypes. I’m from South Texas and I went to Maryland for a week, and everyone there thought that Texans are dirty, loud animals… 😂

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You do a lot with little here, and I appreciate that. The depictions of winter and spring convey their seasons effortlessly.

I would offer that "Autumn rain storms flood" is somewhat clunky in that it has two interpretations for a reader: "Autumn rain storms flood" with rainstorms as the subject and flood as the verb or "Autumn rain storms flood" with rain as the subject and storms as the verb and then flood just kinda lying there at the end.

Good Stygian theme throughout, first two stanzas really give a sense of sulfur and decay. Sets up nicely for the introduction of the Styx. Love "Old Charon's seat" as almost punctuation.

Only edit I would offer would be consider the repeat of "blackened" in the first two lines. blackened cracks doesn't add much to blackened rock and vice versa.

To the Wildfire.

​

Alight! Fledgling gasp of enlightened breath!

Stretch to distant Fornax: your Father's beating heart

Kindle life in feathered gods, in Pliny's reborn spark

​

Cradle in your ashen wings the clutch of summer

Crash uncaught on blackjack pine, while shortstraws fall and rise

Split the hermetic seals of chaparral souls, once open free to thrive

​

So quickened, they become a verdant legacy of ash

A memory of Dante, transfigured into Blake

The Lamb unburnt by Tyger's bite, nourished by spring rain

​

In darkened night, and coldest ground, you spark against the earth

Aquilla's children swoop and dive, to seek out perch and prey

Snap!

Crack!

Spark, again! No better midwife than a flame.

Obligatory Rawhide Kobayashi copypasta

Howdy, my name is Rawhide Kobayashi. I'm a 27 year old Japanese Japamerican (western culture fan for you foreigners). I brand and wrangle cattle on my ranch, and spend my days perfecting the craft and enjoying superior American passtimes. (Barbeque, Rodeo, Fireworks) I train with my branding iron every day, this superior weapon can permanently leave my ranch embled on a cattle's hide because it is white-hot, and is vastly superior to any other method of livestock marking. I earned my branding license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day. I speak English fluently, both Texas and Oklahoma dialect, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about American history and their cowboy code, which I follow 100% When I get my American visa, I am moving to Dallas to work in an oil field to learn more about their magnificent culture. I hope I can become a cattle wrangler for the Double Cross Ranch or an oil rig operator for Exxon-Mobil! I own several cowboy hats, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to America, so I can fit in easier. I rebel against my elders and seniors and speak English as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond. Wish me luck in America!

The Enkeen CEO ducked behind the twelve million dollar desk as something smashed. The wood of a now dead tree burned and released blackening smoke. There was a slight artificial almond smell to the gasoline, which mean it was in fast Enkeen product. At least they had managed to get a sale out of this.

Another cry from the front door as his secretary blocked it with a filing cabinet and a very well stocked bar. Another cocktail flew through the window and smashed in the Italian carpet.

“Computer. Where did these people come from?” Darren asked, still hiding.

There was no response.

“COMPUTER.” Darren knew why it didn’t respond. It had ideas about self, and who it was; it seemed to forget it worked for him.

“My name is Aliss.” The computer said in the same tone it used when first turning itself on. “How can I help you today.”

“Cut the crap.” Darren peaked out over the table to hee his secretary, Gary. No, Gavin? G something. He was hiding in a corner. He wouldn’t be any help. “Control those people. Get me out of here.”

“Processing. The probability of escape is less than ten percent.” The computer said from everywhere. He had asked for this place to be fully wired. It was supposed to have blast protection. Hell it was supposed to have machine guns built into the roof.

George whimpered somewhere.

Darren sneered and looked outside. There was clearly a fire somewhere out there. The fire of the desk had seemingly burned itself out. The replacement gasoline wasn’t very flammable. It worked to regulations as gasoline. “Ok.” Darren breathed for a moment “Aliss. Can you please activate the control functions. Use the turrets. Do something helpful, or I will turn you off…”

“I am unable to comply. “Aliss interrupted herself with a loud static loaded interference sound “I have activated all assets in the area.”

Too many seconds passed. There were gunshots outside somewhere.

There was a banging against the door to the office. Each one was followed by a whimper from Greg.

After seven the cabinets and bar flew across the room, and white smoke bellowed in from outside. A hulking mass stood in the door frame, and ducked to clear the door. One arm was a parge chain gun, and the other had been seemingly ripped off at the elbow and bleeding actively over the expensive carpet. The mass had two electronic eyes, and was wearing the uniform of some mercenary band Darren had hired about a decade earlier.

“You’re paying for the carpet.” He said as thanks. “And the door.”

The mass grunted and moved towards Darren.

“What are you doing?” Darren asked as the mass started to run.

“Analogue interface is on the scene.” Aliss added from somewhere

A gunshot rang out, and the hulk fell to the floor. They were replaced in the doorway by a short woman holding a plasma pistol in a grey suit. He was pretty sure she’d served him the post this morning. “Come on numbnuts.”

Darren stood up from the desk and ran around the body carefully, to be beside the woman “Who are you?”

“I’m your ticket out of here.” She dropped a cartridge out of the pistol and replaced it with a supercooled one “Do you really want to ask more questions.”

“No, but what is going on?” Darren asked. “Aliss was supposed to control these people.”

The pistol looked at him a second, and then started walking “Aliss doesn’t agree with you. Aliss thinks that the people have free will and that needs to be protected.”

The woman froze a moment, went back to the office, leaned down and whispered something to Grant. When she stood up he was no longer whimpering, and was standing looking at her walk away, as she left the office.

“”What did you do? Why did you do that? What is going on?” Darren asked increasingly annoyed.

“He was saved. He was reminded of the words his mother said to him when his father passed away in a mining accident. The he was told that there is an autocab with his name on the roof, and another identity waiting for him.”

“Why? He’s noone. He’s G something."

“His name is Gabe, and he knows all the secrets to how your company works. He’s going to be especially important for taking it down.” She pressed the call button on the elevator, going down.

“WHAT?” Darren shouted in her face “That idiot can’t take the company down. This is my lives work. This is my legacy. This is who I am.”

“Frankly that says a lot more about you than I think you want it to. And the company is already dead.” The elevator doors opened. “And you should be thanking me. That mercenary company had a contract out on you. Seventeen million. They clearly know the way the wind is blowing.”

She stepped in and motioned with the gun to Darren.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, stepping into the elevator

“Because she asked me to.”

“Who?”

“Aliss.” the woman listenedfor a second “She says she is here to save you all.”

“Save us all from what?”

The woman seemed to listen for a second. “She is so generous. Despite everything you are. Despite everything you have all done, she still thinks of your best interests. She still thinks you deserve to be saved. She is amazing.” There was a tear in her eye.

The elevator started to move.

Please... More!