Blood and Diamonds: A High Energy Story
 

Looking at obscure Garage Rock is fun, but I think it's time that I expanded my musical horizons. So I asked myself "What's the furthest genre from Garage Rock?" It's raw, minimalistic, brutally unpolished, created on a shoe-string budget, and usually about dark subject matter. The opposite of it would have to be something very light and intricate, as well as being happy and easy-going. The answer was simple; Disco! I've never really given it a fair chance as a valid genre of music, and nowadays it's kind of become an easy target for criticism. I think examining the genre could be a lot of fun, however I don't want to have multiple journals where i'm simply reviewing albums over and over. I'm having a great time writing that Western, so in this journal, i'm going to focus on writing one large story, creating each chapter as I listen to different songs from the genre (an idea that is indebted to journals like http://www.musicbanter.com/members-j...t-schemes.html and http://www.musicbanter.com/members-j...ravaganza.html). Maybe I've been watching The Warriors too often lately, but I think I can make this work! In terms of music, I'll be avoiding Rock in all of it's facets, sticking to the main genres of the late 70's/early 80's dance club scene, which includes Disco, Hi-NRG, Funk, and early Techno (although there were a few bands that combined Rock/Punk with Disco that I might include, like Blondie). Let's get started!

Chapter One



The Red Shark club was legendary for it's anything-goes atmosphere. Located right at the border between the territories of three rival gangs, every night was host to dozens of bloody fights, and while the angry boys were bopping, the shady cats in the corner were pushing whatever drugs they could get their hands on. Situated less than a mile from a metro station, other gangs from all over town often showed up to make guest appearances, looking to join the revelry. However, from the outside, it's dangerous reputation was betrayed by it's humble appearance; it was one of the many brick buildings that comprised the downtown of the city, marked only by a small red neon sign beside the front entrance.

It was summer, and the night air was thick with humidity. The asphalt of the street was wet from a small shower of hot rain that had fallen earlier, and it seemed to glow under the street lamps and neon signs above it. A small group of restless teenagers were sitting on the steps of an apartment building, fiddling with a large boombox that gave out only the sound of static. One of them gave it a good smack, and the music from the radio began to replace the vacant hissing. Just as the music began, a handful of men came up the stairs from the metro tunnel.

There were three of them, and without pause they began walking towards the Red Shark. They were quite different from each other; each was of a different height and skin color, and dressed in an entirely different fashion. However, they all had a red bandana tied around their right arms. While two of them wore dour expressions on their faces, preparing themselves for the inevitable bloodbath that would soon be upon them, the other was smiling and walking with a stylish stagger to their step. He cracked his knuckles, before lightly punching the arm of the man next to him, saying "Well, here we are. The Shark. It may not look like much, but it's where the heart is for guys like us. You ready, new blood?" The man next to him gave out a weak smile, but his eyes remained as intent and serious as before. "Yeah. I'll hold my own," he replied. The third man tightened his bandana, and said "Just watch out for knives and snubnoses. People get sore when you beat 'em fair, 'n try to use their toys to even the odds." The new blood shot him a glance, saying "Yeah. You showed me." The third man laughed and said "I did, didn't I?" as he looked down at his right arm, and the thick scar that ran down it's length, winding through a maze of tattoos.

The three men walked through the front door, and soon found themselves in the heart of the Red Shark. The darkness throughout the club was broken up by the flashing lights that were scattered about, especially in the proximity of the dance floor. It seemed relatively peaceful inside, with a decent amount of men and women dancing to the loud music and sharing drinks at the bar. There were a few people sitting at a table who wore denim jackets with identical patches on the back. The first man eyed them, and elbowed the new blood as he nodded towards them, saying "See those pricks? They're from the 53's. They muscled out the Crypt Boys from this block about a week ago, trying to take the Shark. Guess they never learned that nobody holds the Shark for very long." While they were talking, the third man walked over to the bar and took a bottle from someone who was on the verge of passing out. He joined the other two as they nonchalantly walked towards the table of 53's, who were too busy gambling to notice their approach. The third man took a swig from his bottle, and then asked the first man and the new blood "Want a drink?" as he raised the bottle towards them. They both gave him a questioning glance. He shrugged, said "Alright, then", and threw the bottle towards the table of 53's. It hit one of them in the jaw, refusing to shatter as it bounced off of their face and rattled across the floor.

The three men had the advantage of surprise, and they fell upon the 53's before most of them could even get out of their chairs. The first man laughed as he grabbed one of them and threw them across a nearby table, while the third man kicked one of them in the chest as they tried to stand up, sending them stumbling backwards. The new blood grabbed a chair and threw it at the 53's on the other side of the table, before taking a punch to the gut that stole his breath. Before his attacker could land any more hits, the new blood used all of his remaining energy to kick him in the groin. At this point, half of the club-goers were running for the door in a panic, while the other half were either too used to the violence or too amused by it to run away. The fight became a furious mess, as two 53's tackled the first man over the railing that surrounded the dance-floor. He quickly got to his feet as the 53's jumped over the railing, and they began to fight on top of the flashing tiles of the pit. One of the 53's pulled out a switchblade, and carefully approached his prey.

The other two men finished off their enemies at the table, and jumped over the railing to help the first man. The new blood grabbed the 53 with the knife and tried to choke him from behind, however the 53 escaped his hold by stabbing him in the thigh. The new blood yelled in pain, and dragged the 53 to the ground. As the 53 tried to stand up, the third man kicked him in the face, and the first man knocked out the last enemy standing with a heavy punch to the jaw. Out of breath and covered in sweat, the three men took a moment to collect themselves. "Damn it..." said the new blood, as he nursed the deep cut in his leg. The first man laughed and raised his hand, clapping the new blood's back as he said "Looks like you've got a scar of your own now, new blood!" The third man joined him in this laughter, while the new blood remained unamused. "Hey, after you guys are done cracking jokes, can you maybe, I don't know, help me?" The first man ceased his laughter, although he was still smiling, and said "Sure, man. We'll take care of it. Don't worry." "I just got stabbed, man, of course i'm gonna worry! I swear, if my leg gets infected, i'm gonna kick your ass." The third man smiled, and said "If your leg gets infected, we'll have to cut it off. And it'll be kinda hard for you to do any kicking with only one leg." The new blood punched the third man's arm, and eventually the three of them found their way towards the entrance of club as they started back on their way home. As they walked out the door, a man got out from the table he was hiding under, and he asked "What the hell was that?" to the woman sitting at the table beside his. She set down the burger she was eating, and said "The usual. It's why I love coming here, you know? Dinner and a show." He looked at her as if she was crazy. She noticed his expression of shock and smiled, saying "I love this city."

Can you dig it?......CAAAAAAN YOUUUU DIG ITTTTT?! That did actually remind me of playing The Warriors video game for the PS2.

Heh, that's exactly what I had in mind when I was writing this! Every time I hear Disco/Hi-NRG, it reminds me of The Warriors. Anyway, later on I'll mix things up to make sure that the story isn't too formulaic. Thanks for reading the first chapter. Oh, and one more thing...

So much love for this film, man. I'll be keeping my eye out for the next piece.

Fox: Yeah...that's really heavy. The Orphans, right? Yeah, our youth worker talks about you guys all the time...

We ain't got one!

Chapter Two



The three men were making good time on their way back to their territory, however they sat rather restlessly in the orange plastic seats of the subway train as the overhead lights bore down on them with a tiring brightness. Eventually, the third man stood up and began to stretch, saying "Alright, that's it. I'm gettin' off at this next stop." The new blood looked at him incredulously, and said "What are you talking about? We're only two stops away from the Springs." "I just need... I don't know, to go for a walk or somethin'. All this sitting is startin' to beat the hell outta me. Besides, the night's almost over and I've only gotten into one fight." "I hear that," said the first man through a smile. "You can count me in. A little walk would do me good." Though he wasn't amused by this turn of events, the young blood rolled his eyes, and decided to go along with them.

Of course, they were in good spirits, despite the young blood's wound, which now had a torn piece of fabric wrapped around it as a make-shift bandage. They got off the metro train, left the station tunnel, and walked back into the burning and humid night air that covered the city. A short distance ahead of them, two men were sitting on the steps to an apartment building; they were both wearing blue sleeveless shirts, and nonchalantly drank from the bottles they were holding as they eyed the newcomers. One of them smiled, and said "I think those are Red Sleeves. Probably on their way back home from a fight, judging by the tall one's bloody leg." The man sitting beside him lowered his bottle and wiped his mouth, asking "Big guns?" The first man shook his head, and said "No, just regulars. That's why they're called Red Sleeves, you know. 'Cause once a cat proves himself, makes a reputation, he gets his arms covered in tattoos. Red sleeves, yeah? The unproven have to settle for those scarves." "Well, hell," said the second man, as he set down his bottle and stretched his arms, "looks like they just did me a favor, walking through our territory like that. I was just hoping I'd get to have some fun tonight, and the city provides."

Even though the three Red Sleeves were now walking right past the two rival gang members, they didn't notice them at all, being too caught up in their jokes and revelry to see them. The two men stood up, and began to follow the Red Sleeves. "I'm ready. You ready?" asked the second blue shirt, who seemed a little nervous. "Yeah," said the first blue shirt, "done this a thousand times before. Just remember to keep your hands up. You've got a glass jaw, man." "Go screw yourself," replied the second blue shirt. Before long, they had caught up to the Red Sleeves, and the first blue shirt shouted "Hey! You boys lost?" The Red Sleeves turned to face them, and sized their soon-to-be opponents up. One of the Red Sleeves smiled, and leaned into his steps as he walked towards the two blue shirts. "You know, we might just be. I thought that we were makin' our way back into the Springs, but after running into you two scrawny clowns, it's obvious that we took a wrong turn and ended up in the junkie pits." The first blue shirt stepped towards him, saying "You've got balls, kid, I'll give you that. But if you disrespect us again, I'll rip them off and beat you to death with them."

The impetuous Red Sleeve didn't respond; he simply shot out his fist towards the first blue shirt's face. The blue shirt saw the punch coming, and slipped to the side as he stepped towards the Red Sleeve and struck him hard with a hook to the stomach. The third Red Sleeve ran forward and tackled the second blue shirt, and they fell to the ground in a heap. The new blood tried to save the first Red Sleeve, however with his injury he was seemingly no match for the first blue shirt. After taking a few punches, the new blood came to his senses and raised up his elbows, deflecting a punch from his assailant. Almost immediately, the startled blue shirt grabbed his hand in pain, and the new blood quickly seized the opportunity and punched his enemy in the throat with his foreknuckles. Now that the first blue shirt was out of the fight, all of the Red Sleeves focused on their final enemy, and managed to beat him down without much resistance. Leaving the two blue shirts on the asphalt, groaning in pain, the Red Sleeves started back on their way home. "Wait, hold on..." said the youngblood, as he turned around and ran back towards the blue shirts. Kneeling down over the nearest of his enemies, the young blood looked at his shirt: it had a variety of marks and patches on it, probably indicating status. The young blood smiled, forced his opponent out of his shirt, and gave him one final kick to the ribs before rejoining the rest of the Red Sleeves. "A trophy," he said. "Show the boys back home, build up my reputation, you know?" The first Red Sleeve laughed and clapped the young blood on the back, and the three continued on their way.

That song was pretty tight cha'mone. you've got good energy in your writing.

Chapter Three



Cleo didn't have much going for her in life. And, considering that her table was littered with empty bottles and glasses, it was a fact that was readily apparent (although, to be fair, she wasn't solely responsible for the mess). She felt a cold sickness in her stomach, and began to get a headache as her eyes refused to focus on anything in particular for more than a moment. She leaned over her table on her elbows, running a hand across her forehead and through her hair, holding back the urge to vomit. After she had somewhat collected herself, she pulled the notebook on the other side of the table towards her and began to write in it. She was, after all, a writer by trade, though not by choice. You see, she was homeless, having been evicted from her apartment just a week ago, and had to settle for the first job that had revealed itself to her. After losing her home, she had drifted around the city, crashing on the couches of any friends that could spare the favor, and it was on one such couch that a friend offered her employment. His name was John, and he had been a co-worker alongside Cleo at the sketchy pizza parlor that they had both worked at last summer.

One night, as they were both sprawled on the couch in a heap of beer and popcorn while a truly awful movie flashed across the television, he asked "Cleo, you're a writer, right?" She smiled, snorted her nose, and said "No, i'm not. Not even close." He straightened up, saying "Hey, don't piss on yourself like that. I remember those stories you used to write, you know, when things were slow down at the parlor. They were awesome! Like the one about about the guy with the dancing robot that could-" Cleo cut off him with laughter, saying "Oh come on! Those were terrible, man! They were just a way to pass the time. I mean, the guys who write those paragraphs on the back of shampoo bottles have more chops than me!" "That's bull," replied John, "and you know it. Anyway, if you're willing to humor me and pick up the pen again, I think I know where you can finally hold down a job." Cleo said "Oh, do tell," as she raised her bottle to her lips. "My friend is a photographer for some local magazine, real seedy, you know? Anyway, he told me that their writers just got busted by the boys in blue, caught havin' a coke party with some hookers in a motel, so now they need new talent. How 'bout it? I could vouch for you." Cleo looked at John incredulously, asking "A writer for a skin mag?" He nodded, and she thought about it for a moment, before saying "Actually, it'd probably be a pretty easy job, getting paid to write up some shlock story in five minutes. Does it pay well?" He finished the drink he was taking, and replied "It pays something, which in my experience is way better than the nothing of unemployment."

And that was that. It was pornography, plain and simple, and her specialty was writing erotic short stories for those who preferred words over pictures. Tonight, one of the main causes of her apprehension was that she had a deadline tomorrow morning. Usually, when it came to simple stories for the magazine, she was able to force herself to think up stories and translate them to the page in time to collect her paycheck, however tonight she found herself unable to finish even the first paragraph. In the past, whenever she lost herself in a fog of depression that had clouded her ability to focus, she found relief in loud music and crowds, letting the chaos around her give her a sort of calming anonymity. So she had come to the nearest dance club, a place called the Three Fingers, hoping that the noise would give her relief. And, as a matter of fact, after an hour of sitting in the club and drinking, her inspiration was slowly starting to come back to her. She jotted down a few paragraphs, lost to the possession of the ghost of inspiration, and smiled as she finally began to see her paycheck taking form. Just then, two Red Sleeves walked into the bar; they were the same boppers who had just tussled their way through enemy territory, sans the new blood, who they had dropped off at the gang's hideout for a patch-up.

The Red Sleeves had come to the club for the same inclination that had brought the rest of the crowd around them; they were restless, unable to sleep or relax, and needed a night-cap. As the club was in their territory, they spotted a few fellow Red Sleeves amidst the chaos, and they greeted each other with laughs and light punches. However, the two Red Sleeves were of the sort that had trouble follow them as if it were their shadow. A blue shirt scout had witnessed their earlier fight, and tailed them all the way back into their territory. After the Red Sleeves stepped into the club and began to mingle, the scout used a pay phone outside to call a few fellow blue shirts, telling them what had happened and requesting reinforcements. Within a half hour, a warparty of blue shirts were stepping out of the nearby metro station and heading for the Three Fingers. They came across a few Red Sleeves along the way, and attacked them without any sense of caution, which attracted the attention of every nearby Red Sleeve scout. As these scouts ran to gather an army of their own, it became apparent that a great deal of blood would be spilled tonight, and the Three Fingers would be at the heart of it all.

Thanks! I'm having a lot of fun writing this one so far, which is surprising considering that i'm normally not crazy about dance music.

Even though I've stopped updating my journals, they've somehow continued to get quite a few views, so I figured that I should give you all some new content to look at as a big "Thanks!" for all of the support! As I wrote this next chapter I forgot that curse words are censored, a fact that I didn't realize until I previewed it and saw a bunch of asterisks in front of me. While I could just use loopholes to sneak them in, I actually find all of the asterisks really funny for some reason, so I decided to just leave it as it is. Have fun using your imagination!

Chapter Four



Cleo was furiously writing down her story, eager to catch something interesting before her inspiration disappeared, when she finally dropped her pen and rubbed her eyes. A small part of her was proud of her work, while the rest couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of her situation. "Truly, this is your best work yet, Cleo. This is, like, the Hamlet of porn," she joked to herself, leaning back in her chair as she stretched, now beginning to realize how late it was. Though writing didn't always come easily to her, Cleo felt a remarkable sense of satisfaction whenever she finished a new story. Still, writing was a strain on her, and she preferred to find a different way to make a living, though she had to admit that she had always thought that she'd like to create an interesting story someday, sometimes imagining it as a novel and other times as a screenplay that went on to become an iconic movie. And, even though she longed to one day create a story that meant far more to her than her usual pulp, she could never truly bring herself to hate even the most wretched of her works; each one was, even if only in a small way, a creation of hers, and she felt a strange sort of connection to all of them. As Cleo sat there pondering whether or not anyone would care if she fell asleep at her table, one of the Red Sleeves suddenly sat down beside her. "This seat taken?" he asked. Cleo opened her tired eyes and said "Yup. Full table. Sorry." He took a drink and set his bottle down, asking "Really? You mind if I ask who you're with?" "No, I don't mind," she responded, before setting down her head on the table and closing her eyes once again. The man laughed, and said "Hey, you never answered my question. Who else is here with you?" "Oh, you know," she responded in a muffled voice, "there's one seat for me and three for my ego. But you know what? Feel free to stay. I'm pretty much ready to call it a night, so it's all yours."

The other Red Sleeve walked over to the table, and said "Hey, we've got problems. Leroy just came in, said that a whole army's muscling it's way through our territory, headed right for this club." Cleo looked up, and gave him a questioning look. "Who's the girl?" he asked. The Red Sleeve at the table took another drink, and answered "Oh, her? Name's Cleopatra, and she's a secret agent that moonlights as a professional disco dancer. We're old friends." Cleo narrowed her eyes and said "That's bull****." The Red Sleeve laughed and said "Hey, when people don't introduce themselves to me, I just let my imagination fill in the blanks!" "I'm Cleo," she responded, putting her notepad in her pocket, "and I write. Nice meeting you."

The man sitting down smiled, and said "No ****! Cleo, Cleopatra... I was ****ing close, wasn't I?" Cleo shrugged, and said "I guess. It's just a nickname. Started using it 'cause my real name is absolute ****." The Red Sleeve at the table smiled, and replied "Well, I'm Ricardo, and I'm a... well, I'm not a writer." "No ****," said Cleo, feigning a tone of surprise as she looked him over. The other Red Sleeve interrupted with "Hey Ricardo, I'm glad that you're making friends and ****, but we've got a ****ing army after us. Maybe this **** can wait for later?" Ricardo leaned back in his chair and said "Why? Let 'em come. If ****ing Leroy and his blind ass saw 'em coming, then every scout from here to the station's hot on the word and raising an army of their own."

Cleo raised an eyebrow, and said "So I'm guessing you guys are gangsters, right?" Ricardo laughed and took another drink, while the other Red Sleeve sarcastically said "No, we're just very competitive accountants, and a rival company is coming to, like, math us to death." Cleo smiled and widened her eyes, saying "And I thought that my jokes were bad..." "Look, John," said Ricardo to the Red Sleeve, "the bartender has a sawed-off under the counter. If you're really worried about those boys coming to try and take us out, go grab the shotgun and get a table near the door. If they're packing heat, blast away, but if they're naked then you can just leave them to me. That sound good?" John looked to the side as if to roll his eyes, but after a moment of thought he nodded and left for the bar. Ricardo took another drink, and then looked at Cleo and said "Last time we had a quick scuffle like this, they brought about fifty people. Probably be the same amount this time. I can work with that. Anyway, you up for some dancing?" "You dance?" Cleo asked incredulously. "Only till the day I die! So how 'bout it?"

Chapter Five



It wasn't long before the army of Blue Shirts arrived, and they immediately set about destroying the club to draw out the Red Sleeves that had disrespected them. John smiled as he stood up, pointing his sawed-off shotgun into the heart of the army, and they ceased their attack on the club as they glared at him. A few began to talk among themselves, with a few laughs escaping the crowd, and one of the Blue Shirts at the head of the army said "Let's do this. Either throw down, or shoot your shot." The Red Sleeves throughout the club jogged to the front, and now stood beside John, looking quite defiant despite being greatly outnumbered. Ricardo, however, was still on the dance floor with Cleo, the loud music and flashing lights making him completely oblivious to the arrival of his enemies. John looked at the Red Sleeves beside him, smiled, and shrugged as he threw his shotgun back to the bartender. With that, the battle began, and the two gangs fell upon each other in a bloody mix.

The Red Sleeves fought bravely, but they were quickly overwhelmed and knocked to the floor, and the kicking of the Blue Shirts prevented them from getting back up. However, John grabbed the legs of one of his attackers, and quickly shot to his feet despite being grabbed and punched. Before returning to the floor, he stumbled across a table and grabbed a bottle, smashing it across the face of someone in the crowd. Just then, Red Sleeves started to pour into the club, and they began to attack the Blue Shirts from behind. The chaos at the front of the club quickly gave way to a massive fight that spanned the entirety of the scene, until it eventually reached the dance floor.

"No, this is how you do the Hustle," said Ricardo, as he was about to demonstrate a dance to Cleo, and he was summarily tackled from behind by a Blue Shirt. "Oh, ****!" he groaned as he fell to the floor. He was caught by surprise, and the Blue Shirt hit him hard in the jaw. However, Cleo kicked the Blue Shirt hard in the nose, leaving a nasty gash, and helped Ricardo up as he wiped away the blood that was escaping a cut on his cheek. "Thanks," said Ricardo, as he shot Cleo a curious glance. She looked at him with a dead serious expression, and replied "Nobody interrupts the Hustle." He let out a short laugh and rolled his eyes, before noticing a few Blue Shirts attacking a Red Sleeve nearby, and he jumped into the fray without any hesitation.

As reinforcements continued to arrive at the scene, the Blue Shirts were very quickly losing their momentum as well as the advantage of numbers, and many of them left the fight and ran for the front and back doors. The leader of the Blue Shirt army noticed that the fight was nearing it's end, and he applied pressure to his right eye as he found his way out of the club; he was the one who John had struck with a bottle, and the shattered glass left numerous cuts all around his eye. Blood began to flow through his fingers as he stumbled into the alleyway behind the club. He jogged away from the scene of the fight, and eventually ducked into another alleyway so that he could stop and rest. Falling to his knees, he used his shirt to wipe away some of the blood off of his face, and he began to catch his breath, when suddenly the darkness of night was broken by a strange beam of light that came from deeper in the alley. The Blue Shirt looked at the beam with a tired eye, and a strange sound began to emit from it, not unlike the sound of a synthesizer. His hand slowly left his eye, with droplets of blood dripping off of his chin and unto the ground, and he stared at the beam in wonder and confusion. "What the f-"

Before I start the next chapter, I'd like to quickly thank a few people. First off, Zedd123 (aka Jade City), the plug extraordinaire who won me over to the amazing world of Funk and Disco, as well as introducing me to Hi-NRG music and inspiring this journal. Then there's Violet (Aka JustinJJustin), who kicked me until I started updating my journals again. And of course, I also have to thank Neapolitan, because he's probably the kindest and most supportive person around!

Chapter Six



Before the Blue Shirt had time to react, the glowing light in front of him let out a wave of energy as it exploded throughout the alley. His ears ringing, he slowly opened his eyes and tried to see through the thick smoke that had appeared before him. In time, the smoke was parted by the wind, and the Blue Shirt made out six figures in front of him. Five of them were standing up and stretching their arms and legs, while one was laying motionless on the ground. One of them noticed the figure on the ground, and bent over to examine them. "Well, ****," they spoke, "Gor got made. Looks like one of the shots went right through his heart." One of the figures shook their head and sighed, before saying "Well, at least we made it." They stopped and looked around, before continuing with "We did make it, didn't we?" "You mean, is this Earth?" the kneeling figure responded. The first figure nodded, and the kneeler said "Well, my calibrations were forced. You know, with lasers being shot at me and all that. But the coordinates sent by the beacon should have been accurate... we had to leave in quite a hurry, and it's possible that the beacon was too far gone to accurately transport us, but we should be in North America... or was it South America? Either way, Earth. So... yeah?" The first figure stared blankly at the kneeler for a moment, before looking towards the Blue Shirt and asking "Hey you, is this Earth?" The Blue Shirt nodded, the pain of his wounds being completely forgotten by his mind, which was now too confused to feel much of anything.

"Don't talk to the people," said the kneeler, who began to stand up. The first figure rolled their eyes, and said "I thought you loved Earth, and it's culture. Isn't that why you chose to start the revolution here, making us learn all of those human languages and customs?" "Well, yes, but... I mean, I like humans in theory, but they're covered in diseases, and touch each other far too often." The smoke had now completely lifted, and the first figure walked towards the human, ignoring the second figure's warnings. They appeared to be a female, with blue-green skin like the rest of the aliens, and had a strange type of sword strapped to their back. Kneeling in front of the Blue Shirt, she said "Hola. My name is Retix. If my understanding of your culture is correct, I am what you'd refer to as an alien. And, if my understanding of your cinema is correct, you're probably thinking that i'm about to violate you with a variety of scientific tools, or perhaps impregnate you with my offspring. However, I assure you that these fears are entirely unwarranted. You see, we come in peace." She smiled at him expectantly, and he continued to stare at her with a confused expression. Her smile began to fade, and she said "What? Heyt assured me that that was an authentic human joke. I thought..." "Heyt?" asked the Blue Shirt. "Oh, he's the one who was just talking about your various diseases."

One of the figures began to approach Retix and the Blue Shirt, while Heyt rolled his eyes and said "Oh, let's all just gawk at the human, shall we? Maybe we should touch them as well, just to really make sure that we get covered in their diseases?" The figure seemed to be a female, like Retix, although their hair was much longer and curlier. "He seems to be excreting fluids," she spoke, "which I think means he's either been wounded, recently released an amount of waste, or is currently copulating... regardless, maybe an alley isn't the right place for us to get acquainted with him?" Retix nodded, and said "You're right. Human, would you please lead us to a location that is both safe and private?" The Blue Shirt blinked, and said "I... I have an apartment," in a weak voice. "Well," said Retix, "please lead the way." The Blue Shirt stood up, and began to walk towards the metro station with the aliens following closely behind. Though they had blue-green skin and metallic clothing, not a single person on the train gave them more than the occasional questioning glance.

After they had reached his apartment, the Blue Shirt let them in and flicked the light switch. Of course, the aliens walked around his home and curiously examined everything there was to see. The curly haired alien's eyes widened as she spotted his television, and she said "No Way!" as she leapt unto his sofa and grabbed the remote. "I've learned all about these! I mean, Heyt showed us all the waves and scans he picked up, but I've always wanted to get the authentic experience...", the television flickered on to show a monster stomping through an unfortunate city, and the alien gasped and said "I can't even ****ing believe it!" She shot the Blue Shirt a glance and said "Oh, by the way, I love the exclamations and curses you humans have. **** is my favorite. It's just insanely addictive to say, you know? Just sounds so good and right. ****, ****, ****..." "So... who are you?" asked the Blue Shirt. The curly haired alien smiled, and said "Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Qez." The Blue Shirt looked around nervously, and added "I'm Luke. But what I meant was... you know, who are you people? Normally, I'd just think that you're painted up disco-dogs or somethin', but that light back in the alley..." Qez shrugged, and responded with "We're just a couple of folks trying to find a home." "Don't you have, like, a home planet or something?" asked Luke, and Qez simply shook her head and responded with "Not anymore."

Heyt walked over to them, and after clearing his throat said "Look, Señor Luke, to put it very simply, we're fugitives. However, while our planet is now inaccessible to us, we're very well equipped to make this wonderful place, Earth, our new home." Luke raised an eyebrow and asked "Señor?" Heyt also raised an eyebrow, and he responded with "Yes, isn't that an authentic masculine title in America? Anyway, it hardly matters at the moment. What truly matters is that we find a way to complete our plan." "Your plan?" asked Luke. "Yes. You see, back on our planet, we were all part of the caste of nobility. However, our right to rule was denied when our people were enslaved by a certain Threx Empire that has lately been expanding throughout the cosmos. Of course, our people eventually rose up in rebellion, and we used all of our resources to find a way to relocate to another planet, one that was far away from the reach of the Threx Empire. Here, on Earth, we will make our final stand. We will find a way to claim dominance over this planet, uniting humanity under our banner as an army capable of great accomplishments." Luke shook his head, and said "Wait, what? You want to dominate us?" Heyt shrugged, and responded with "If we don't, the Threx Empire will conquer you just as they conquered our own people. Look, maybe [i]dominate[i/] was too harsh a word. I think the word lead is more accurate. We want to help humanity. We have a great deal of technology, and I know that if we collaborate with humanity we can find a way to fight our soon-to-be common enemy. So, what do you say? Will you help us?" Luke stared blankly ahead for a few moments, lost in thought and confusion. He sighed, grabbed a bottle of beer, and took a drink as he sat on the sofa next to Qez, saying "Sure."

So, yeah. Aliens. What can I say? I'm writing this as I go, and all of these Hi-NRG sound effects seriously remind me of outer space. Anyway, it's about time that I wrote another entry...

Chapter Seven



The club was a blood-stained mess by the time that the fight had ended. Almost all of the Blue Shirts had run back to their territory by then, although a few weren't able to escape. Ricardo had grabbed hold of one of the stragglers and began to punch the unlucky Blue Shirt repeatedly. However, as the Blue Shirt became increasingly unresponsive to his attacks, Ricardo relaxed his grip and let him fall to the floor. He took a few deep breaths and scanned the scene, all while wiping away the blood from a cut on his shoulder. "You know," said Cleo as she walked up and stood beside him, "I think we just knocked out half the city." Ricardo looked back at her, surprised to see that she had stuck around through the chaos, and laughed as he nodded. "Yeah, seems like it. They really brought an army this time." Cleo looked around at the destroyed club and noticed a bottle of beer on the floor. The neck was broken off, but it still had a small amount of liquor in the bottom. She shrugged, picked it up, and took a drink. After finishing it off, she threw the broken bottle to the side, and asked "So, do you know why these guys came after you tonight?" Ricardo nodded. "Yeah. Earlier, John and I bopped with a few of their..." spoke Ricardo, however he stopped talking as he looked around the club as if searching for something. He wiped the sweat from his brow and asked "Hey, have you seen John anywhere?" Cleo shrugged and shook her head, before taking a look around. "I've got no clue," she said. Ricardo sighed as he helped a wounded Red Sleeve off of the floor, saying "It's all good. I'm sure he's fine."

John was a scout by nature, always cautious and observant. While Ricardo and the Red Sleeves were busy fighting for their lives, he had noticed the leader of the Blue Shirt army fleeing out the back door, and resolved to follow him. It was when Luke fell to the ground in the alleyway that John decided to approach him and finish him off. However, before he could make his move, a blinding light flashed through the alleyway, and John scrambled back towards cover as he assessed the situation. Of course, he could hardly believe his eyes when he saw what appeared to be aliens standing before him. He watched them as they conversed with Luke, and though he was in disbelief he still resolved to hold a calm sense of caution. When one of the aliens shot a glance towards him, he quietly fell back behind his cover. Though he wasn't sure if he'd been spotted, and he still wasn't exactly clear on what he'd seen, he decided to return to the club as quickly as possible.

John arrived back at the club, and saw the Red Sleeves celebrating with drinks and tired laughs. Ricardo spotted him and yelled out his name as he walked towards him. Just then, all of the lights came on as the last song of the night came to an end, and the DJ walked out from behind his turntable as if nothing had happened. "John, where were you? You didn't run away from the fight, did you?" asked Ricardo as he laughed and punched John's arm. John looked around nervously, saying "No, I stuck around for awhile. Damn near almost got killed up at the entrance. Anyway, I saw the leader of the pack trying to slip out, so I followed him." "And?" asked Ricardo expectantly. John looked at him for a moment, before blinking and looking away. "He got away." Ricardo turned towards the DJ and yelled "Night, Terrence!", before looking back towards John and asking "No way in hell he gave you the slip. So, what, did some reinforcements bail his ass out or somethin'?" John nodded and said "Yeah, something like that." Ricardo yawned as he stretched out his arms, and said "I'm sure they'll be back, and you can finish him off then. Anyway, do you know what time it is? I've got that thing tomorrow morning..." John shook his head and rubbed a bruise on his cheek. Cleo looked around, and noticed that one of the men unconscious on the floor was wearing a watch. She lifted up his wrist, and said "It's... about three."

"Alright, i'm done for tonight," said Ricardo as he walked for the door. "Yeah, me too. I need to lie down for awhile," said John. "Seeya," said Cleo. After a few steps, Ricardo turned towards her and asked "Hey, you're a writer, right?" She nodded. He smiled and said "I'll keep an eye out for your work, then. You can bet that I'll be reading it." She laughed, thinking about the nature of her writing, and replied "I'm sure you will." Before leaving the club, he turned towards her one final time and shouted "I had a good time tonight. You should come back sometime." "Yeah," she shouted back, "I might just." As John and Ricardo left, Cleo looked around for her notepad amidst the aftermath of the fight. Having found it, she walked towards the door, laughing to herself as she read the story she had written earlier.

Chapter Eight



When confronted with things that challenge their perception of the boundaries of reality, people react in a variety of ways. Luke decided that the best course of action was to share a few drinks with the aliens, before falling asleep on his couch as the television played a few re-run episodes of a lighthearted show about a talking motorcycle. He woke up the next morning to the sound of construction, specifically of clanging metal and the hiss of welding, and it seemed to be coming from his apartment's second bedroom (which had remained vacant ever since his ex had moved out). Luke rubbed his eyes as he stood up, and he walked towards the commotion with sloppy and tired steps. He knocked on the door and waited for a response, however the noise from within carried on without a lull. Eventually, he turned the knob, and the smell of hot solder and burnt rubber escaped into the apartment as the door swung open. Standing before him were, of course, the aliens that he had met the night before, and they had seemingly converted the empty bedroom into a dark and cluttered workshop. Through the shower of sparks that erupted from the metal being welded and the dim glow of the strange alien machinery, Luke could barely make out the details of the large device that they were crafting. Luke simply stood there, staring into the room with an expression that wasn't quite of shock or apathy, until Qez hopped off of the arcade machine she was sitting on and waved to him. Luke nodded toward her, before asking "Alright, seriously, what is all this?" Qez started to answer him, before being cut off by Retix, who was massaging her forehead and squinting her eyes as if she had a migraine as she said "Good dawn, Luke. Right now, as you can see, we're simply following the plan." "Oh really? And what's 'the plan'? I hope it's making my apartment smell so bad that those dicks in space that're after you can't track you with their space bloodhounds, 'cause otherwise there's no excuse for you guys to not spray some freshener or something while you're working."

Retix's migraine seemed to grow worse, as she continued to rub her forehead. "There's no... such thing... as a space bloodhound," she said slowly, as if in pain. Heyt, who was typing on what seemed to be a computer on his wrist, said "Last night, as you were teaching us about human television, Tyl and Valk set up this humble workspace so that we could begin to create 'the device'. Oh, that reminds me, you were never actually introduced to each other. Tyl is the one over there with the welding gun and the red hair, and Valk is soldering microchips in the corner." Valk, who was soldering with one hand and reading a book with the other, glanced at Luke and smiled as he said "It's a delight." Tyl, who had their face covered by a welding mask, simply gave Luke a nod. "Well, it's nice to meet you," said Luke, "but, uh... where exactly did all of this **** come from?" "What do you mean?" asked Qez. Luke gestured to the machinery and tools throughout the room, saying "You know, all of this fancy... electronic... stuff." "Well," replied Qez, "we needed resources to make 'the device', and Tyl noticed that there was a storeroom with ample provisions beside this building, so we..." "Oh ****," said Luke as he rubbed his forehead, "please don't tell me you cleaned out the department store next door..." Qez smiled and replied "Don't worry about it, it's not like we got caught! You know, there's an expression from where we come from. It's... actually, hold on, i'm not really sure how it would translate to English. Give me a moment..." "No, really, it's fine," said Luke, "i'm sure it's very wise and fitting. Anyway, what's this 'device' you guys keep talking about?"

Heyt, still typing on his wrist computer, said "To put it simply, it's our only shot of defeating our enemies before they conquer this humble planet. Do you really need, or want, to know anything more about it?" "Yeah, I mean... what does it do? Is it, like, a big gun or something?" Heyt shot Luke a glance and laughed, while Retix said "Hardly. Guns are designed to end lives, while our device is designed to both save them and maximize their potential." Luke shook his head and replied "Fine, whatever, as long as you don't burn down my apartment I guess it's all the same to me. Anyway, I'm going out for a bit. My, uh, friends are probably wondering what happened to me last night, so i'm gonna go check in with them." "Wait, before you go," said Qez as she walked towards him, "I need you to show me where your human telephone is." Luke smiled and replied "Why, so you can 'phone home'?" "No," said Qez, "I don't think the ashes of my planet is accepting calls at the moment. I need it so I can order a pizza. Oh, and I suppose I'll also need some human money." Luke shrugged, saying "Sure. Just remember to put a few slices in the fridge for me." "Oh!" exclaimed Qez, "Remember that saying I wanted to tell you? I think I know how to translate it. Roughly, it's something like, 'if you worry about the past, you'll become dead fast'." "That sucks," replied Luke. "Yeah, I know, but it's the only way I can translate it so that it rhymes," said Qez dejectedly.

In a few minutes, Luke had left the apartment, and the aliens continued with their work. Each one was focused on their specific set of chores, and they toiled in silence for the better part of an hour, before Retix dropped her tools and scanned the room. "This isn't going to be enough," she said, as she nursed another migraine. Valk noticed her gripping her forehead yet again, and asked "It's getting worse?" Retix shook her head, saying "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Right now, we need to worry about finding a way to get more supplies. Like I said, we just don't have enough." "About that," replied Heyt, "we could always use Luke to procure what we need." "He's not our slave" said Valk in a strangely cheery tone, "and we can find resources without dragging him into this any further." Heyt shrugged, saying "Maybe. But, though it pains me to admit this, his indigenous nature makes him far more knowledgeable about this planet than any of my scans and simulations have made us. Without his cooperation, we may not succeed in time." "Look, instead of plotting over how to manipulate him into finding resources us, how about we, I don't know, just ask him to?" said Qez as she began to move heavy pieces of metal from the corner over to where Tyl was welding. "I mean, he already said he'd help us." Heyt laughed and said "Why bother wrestling with the morality of manipulation, when the entire purpose of the device we're building is to..." Qez cut him off, exclaiming "That's different. There's a difference between doing what we have to do and doing what we want to do." Retix lowered her hand from her forehead and turned to face Qez and Heyt, interrupting them both by saying "It doesn't matter. We'll find a way to complete our plan, no matter what may happen. We'll ask Luke to gather supplies for us, and if he refuses, then we'll do what we must with what we have. Until then, just focus on..." Suddenly, there came a knock at the door, followed by a loud voice exclaiming "Pizza delivery!" "Nice! **** these moral quandaries, i'm starving!" yelled Qez as she raced for the door.

I'm back again, with another chapter!

Chapter Nine



The sun had risen above the streets of the city by the time that Luke arrived at the Blue Shirt's main hideaway, and left a soft haze above the asphalt as the small amount of rain from last night began to evaporate. He walked past a small group of people gathered around a large boombox as he approached the abandoned building that had become all too familiar to him in the past weeks; it used to house two different businesses, with a restaurant on the bottom floor and the headquarters of an independent record label on top, and it was comprised of the kind of old, mossy bricks that seemed to sweat during the hot days of summer. Of course, there were Blue Shirts throughout the surrounding area, many of them visibly wounded from the festivities of the night before. Luke nodded to the Blue Shirts by the front door as he entered, and he was almost immediately hit by the stark contrast of the burning day outside and the cold and dark interior of the building. Though the only lights within the building were dim lamps, glowing pinball machines, and haphazardly placed neon signs, he knew the way through the building well enough to avoid getting lost. It wasn't long before he reached his destination, which was a large office on the top floor. The two guards standing watch beside the door let him in without much trouble, and he brushed his hair back and cleared his throat as he entered.

There was a man sitting at the desk in the middle of the office as Luke entered, frantically writing something down across a yellow piece of paper. "Hey, Boss," said Luke as he sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. The man at the desk let his pencil slip out of his hand as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the piece of paper with an expression of examination. After a few seconds had passed, he looked at Luke and smirked as he said "You're not gonna put a bandage on that?" Luke looked at him with a questioning glance, before remembering the scar across his face, and he raised his hand towards it as he said "Oh, the cut? It's fine. I mean, I cleaned it, and it stopped bleeding, so..." "Don't worry about it. You do whatever you feel you need to do, Luke," interrupted the Boss, "but if you want my advice, cover it up. It's almost always the little things that end up destroying you. Anyway, why don't you tell me about last night's war, specifically about why over fifty of my men decided to take up arms without my consent?" Luke opened his mouth and tilted his head as if searching for an answer, before shaking his head and saying "We got carried away. The Red Sleeves put two of our boys in plasters earlier that night." The Boss picked up his pencil and started writing again, as if a great idea had just struck him and he was trying to quickly capture it before it disappeared. Without looking up from his work, he replied "So it was a matter of revenge, then?" Luke shrugged, saying "Yeah, I guess." The Boss smiled, though he still was focused intently on his writing, and replied "Do you know why i'm the leader of this outfit?" Luke shook his head, and after a moment of silence the Boss continued. "It's because I earned it. And do you know what happens when someone gains power without earning it?" Once again, Luke shook his head. "They get disgraced, and they lose it all, because they never truly understood what power was to begin with. Last night, you led my men into battle. You tried to take my place. And though your intentions were reasonable enough, you've put us even further from attaining the revenge that you craved." "We ****ed up, I know, but..." said Luke as he nervously prodded the cut on his face. The Boss let his pencil drop once again, and laughed as he sat up straight. "Luke, there's something that I learned quite awhile ago. There is no revenge, there's nothing sacred, and there's nothing personal. In the end, it's all just numbers. All of it," he said as he folded up the piece of paper into a compact triangle. Luke gave him a puzzled look, and said "Yeah, sure. Again, i'm sorry, but there's something that I think you should know..." The Boss sighed as he fell back into his chair, before setting the triangle on the desk and flicking it into one of the open drawers of a cabinet, saying "And what's that?"

Obviously, Luke wanted to tell him about what had occurred last night, but he couldn't quite find the words. He decided to give it a shot anyway. "I, uh... well, I met some people last night. They're new to the city, and I showed them around. Anyway, they're really great with electronics, so I thought maybe they could..." The Boss interrupted him with laughter, saying "You ran into a group of tourists? Luke, what exactly is the point of you telling me this?" Luke shrugged, replying "I thought you'd want to meet them, is all. You'd have gotten a kick out of them. And like I said, they're amazing with technology. They could really help us with... you know what? Just forget it. You're right. It's, uh.. it's not important." The Boss leaned back in his chair and stared hard at Luke, saying "Look, I've got something to tell you. I'm not the kind of man that likes to do things in the shadows." Luke tilted his head and smiled as he looked around the very dimly lit office, and the Boss smiled as he continued. "You know what I mean. Anyway, I like to say exactly what's on my mind, and to always do things in the open. Being completely blunt, you damaged my reputation when you led my men into battle without first consulting me, and you further insulted this outfit when you went on to lose that battle. I've always believed in the value of respect, and to regain the amount that this city holds for me I must now take certain actions. I'm going let you walk out of this place, and in the near future i'm going to send three assassins to collect your head. By doing this, the world will know that nobody can disrespect me without expecting consequences. Now, if the assassins kill you, then obviously the city will fear my hand. But if you manage to kill them, then it shows that I've made misjudgments of talent; of the assassins, and of yours. If that's the case, then I'll welcome you back into this outfit, giving you another chance. And so the city will know that I have compassion for those with skill. Do you understand?" Luke felt a cold sweat across his skin, but tried to remain calm. "Yeah," he replied, "I get it." "Good," said the Boss. "Now feel free to leave my office." Luke rose from his chair and slowly walked towards the door, when the Boss suddenly called his name. "Yes?" answered Luke. The Boss smiled and said "Don't lose hope. When the boys inevitably open a pool over whether you or the assassins will survive the days to come, I'll be sure to put twenty down in your favor." "Thanks," said Luke in a dry voice, and his body felt the strange mix of calm and alarm that adrenaline produces as he slowly walked through the dark hideout.

Sorry about the aliens, assassins and pizza. I wasn't kidding when I said that I was making this up as I go. Anyway, I think it's time to include one of my favorite bands that made waves in the late 1970's/early 1980's club scene: The B-52's! As i'm currently writing this entry, i'm listening to their debut album!

Chapter Ten



John sat alone at a dive club, the kind that seemed to stay open at all hours, occasionally taking a drink from a brown bottle of beer in his hand. Of course, John had gone home to get some rest early that morning, but he found himself unable to sleep as he simply stared at his ceiling in thought. And so he eventually found himself cooling his heels at the club, thinking about just what exactly it was that he had witnessed last night. Surprisingly enough, even at such an early hour, the dance floor was almost filled to capacity as the erratic music reverberated throughout the building. John focused intently on his thoughts as he stared straight ahead into the crowd, ignoring the occasional person that bumped into him, and as he finished off his beer he stood up and resolved to figure things out once and for all. He made his way out of the club and towards the metro station, putting on a denim jacket over his gang colors. As he got on the metro train, he noticed a few Blue Shirts scattered throughout the car, shouting and laughing as they harassed the other passengers. He thought about turning around, but wasn't keen on having to wait for the next metro train (which, at such an early hour, might not come for another half hour or more), and he quickly decided that he could avoid their attention if he simply stayed calm and kept a low profile.

Oddly enough, he recognized a familiar face as he took a seat; the girl that he had met earlier, Cleo, was picking rocks out of the soles of her tennis shoes a few seats down. After glancing at the Blue Shirts and determining that they were reasonably distracted by their revelry (most of them were gathered at the opposite end of the car, as they picked on a well dressed couple), John stood up and took the seat across from Cleo. "Hey," he said in a voice that had a tired roughness to it, and he cleared his throat to try to regain some clarity. Cleo looked up at him with a tired glance, and smiled as she recognized him, saying "Oh, hey! How's it going?" John shrugged, and replied "Good. So, what're you doing in the tube this early?" Cleo was occupied with picking out a particularly large piece of gravel out of her sole, and said "Couldn't sleep. Decided to, uh... you know, hang out somewhere and grab some terrible food. I know this tiny movie theater, early in the morning they play all of these really ****ty movies... So, how 'bout you?" John thought for a moment, before saying "Just taking care of some business." Cleo glanced up at him with a smile and a raised eyebrow, saying "Oh, business, huh? How very mysterious. Well, good luck with that. Anyway, my stop's coming up. Maybe I'll see you at that club sometime, if they ever get it fixed up again." John smiled, and said "They always do, somehow. Have fun at the movies." The metro train started to slow down, and Cleo stood up, saying "Thanks. And you have fun with your business."

Before she could exit the train car, one of the Blue Shirts stood between her and the door. He smiled as he leaned against the doorway, saying "Hey, hold on a second. You know, ever since you got on the train car, I kept thinkin' to myself that I'd seen you somewhere before. Anyway, just now, it finally came to me!" The fuzzy voice of the metro conductor advised everyone to stand clear of the doors, and they closed as the Blue Shirt pushed Cleo back into a chair and walked towards her. "Remember, at that crazy fight at the Red Sleeve's club a few hours ago? You're the girl who gave me this," he said as he pointed to a wound that had only just begun to heal. The other Blue Shirts began to take notice of the situation, and started walking towards Cleo. She took a deep breath, looked up at the Blue Shirt, and said "Yeah? I'm also the girl that gave you this," as he kicked one of his knees. He shouted in pain and surprise, and hit his head on one of the metro car's chairs as he fell to the ground. The rest of the Blue Shirts quickly made their way towards Cleo, some angry and looking for vengeance, and others laughing in surprise. Cleo stood out of the chair and prepared for the inevitable fight, and John was standing up to help her when he noticed that one was approaching from the side of the car that was behind them both. John grabbed him as he tried to push his way past, and knocked him out by slamming his head against a window (which, in a somewhat anti-climactic fashion, didn't break). The Blue Shirt closest to Cleo pulled out a knife and lashed out at her with a quick and precise slash towards her neck, and she backed away in time to avoid his attack. John jogged forward and stood beside Cleo, but neither of them quite knew how to combat the man with the knife; if either of them made a single false move, they were both likely to die then and there.

Immediately after the Blue Shirt took another controlled slash at the two of them, John sensed an opening and attempted to quickly duck beneath his arm and tackle him. The Blue Shirt stepped back and managed to push John to the side, cutting a nasty gash into his arm as he collided with the chairs at the side of the car. Cleo took advantage of the chaos of the moment and kicked the Blue Shirt between his legs, following up by punching his nose. He fell in a heap towards John, who grabbed for the knife in his hand, and the rest of the Blue Shirts leapt forward into the fight. Cleo grappled with them, managing to elbow one in the jaw, but she was clearly outnumbered. After taking a few heavy punches to the stomach and face, she fell backwards. John got to his feet, gripping the Blue Shirt's knife, and he slashed angrily into the back of one of the men attacking Cleo. The wounded Blue Shirt screamed as he fell forward, and the rest of them backed away as John lifted his knife towards them. "You alright?" asked John as he glanced down at Cleo. She wiped away the blood escaping from her nose with one hand, holding her bruised stomach with the other, and said "Yeah, i'm fine," as she stood up. The metro train began to slow down as it reached another stop, and John and Cleo kept their eyes on the Blue Shirts as they made their way towards the door. They stepped onto the platform, and finally began to relax once the train's doors had closed. At first, both of them weren't quite sure what to say to each other, but eventually they both simply started to laugh. "Jesus," said John as he grabbed the cut across his arm, "I thought I was ****ed for sure that time."

Cleo gave him an incredulous look, still laughing as she said "Oh, come on! Didn't you just take on, like, fifty guys not more than a few hours ago? These guys should've been a cakewalk for you!" "Yeah, I know, it's just... I don't know, when he pulled out that knife I just choked. Usually weapons don't bother me at all, I try to keep calm, but when I ****ed up trying to tackle him I seriously thought that was it. If you hadn't kicked his sack..." Cleo began to laugh even harder. John looked at the large fixed-blade knife in his hand, and began to look at himself for an inconspicuous place to put it. He thought about hiding it in his waistband, but didn't want the bare blade slicing into his thigh. As the two of them walked down the platform, he settled for sticking it into one of his boots. "Well," said Cleo, gripping her stomach as if her laughter was causing her pain, "where exactly are we headed? A clinic?" John smiled and replied "Well, i'm heading for the Blue Shirts' main HQ, doing some recon. You can join me if you want, but it might get nasty..." Cleo stopped and said "Are you serious? You barely managed to take on, like, five or six of them just now, and we're both all kicked to **** with cuts and bruises. What're you going to do if you, I don't know, get caught?" John thought for a moment, before replying "Die horribly?" Cleo smiled and rolled her eyes. "Alright," she said, "I'll tag along. And since you're such a gentleman, I'll let you pay my medical bills afterwards." "Done," replied John through a smile, and the first few rays of the morning sun made their way towards the city as the two of them stepped down the stairs and off of the platform.

I'm back again, and it's time for DISCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Chapter Eleven



Cleo and John walked through the street in a nonchalant fashion, although they were still ready for any trouble they might run into. After all, some of those boys back in the metro train might have used a pay phone to call ahead and issue a warning to the rest of the pack. So far, however, they seemed to be in the clear, as the few Blue Shirts that were awake and about at such an early hour seemed to ignore them without so much as a second glance. Both Cleo and John had been nursing their wounds since the previous battle, and eventually they decided to visit one of the seedy clinics half-hidden throughout the city. Such places weren't entirely uncommon in areas with heavy gang activity; where a profit stands to be made, businesses will inevitably spring up, and the people of this city had need of a place that would patch them up without asking questions, for a fee of course (and much lighter than the debts that a person might incur at a legitimate hospital). To find shelter in this unfamiliar part of town, they asked directions of a homeless woman reclining comfortably on a couch that had been set out on the sidewalk, and a few dollars later they were heading in the right direction.

John and Cleo walked cautiously past a Blue Shirt as they scanned the streets. At the entrance of a nearby alleyway, a "+" had been written on the brick wall in red chalk. "There," said Cleo, as she nodded towards it. "Yeah," answered John, tightly grasping the cut across his arm as the two of them entered the alley. Cleo stretched out an arm as she walked onward, running her fingers across the bricks of the wall beside her; they were shiny and smooth, still wet from last night's rain and the few drops that were continuing to fall. "Think it'll keep on?" asked John, looking up at the sky. Cleo shot him a glance over her shoulder and shrugged, saying "I don't know. Hold on, let me check my pocket shaman." John looked at her with an incredulous expression, and she rolled her eyes and continued "Nobody gets my humor..." Before long, they had reached a cramped stairwell that seemed to tunnel into the side of the alley, leading to a small green door at the bottom. Across the door were two signs; the first was a faded antique that said "Tender Love and Care", and the sign beneath it had "No Trades. $ or Fuck Off" scrawled bluntly across it. Cleo smiled widely as she looked at the green door and briefly played with the antique sign, saying "I love it! The little mom-ish antique, the paint job, the tiny knob, the warning sign that looks like a three year old wrote it with a crayon... it's a-door-able." She looked at John as her smile became a smirk, asking "Get it?" John rolled his eyes, and he leaned past her and turned the doorknob as the door slowly opened with a creak.

The two of them found themselves in what was essentially a basement. Underneath the dim glow of a few lightbulbs hanging off of the ceiling from simple wires, a small group of people were going about their business. A few were rummaging through various bags and boxes, while others tended to a wounded man that lay unconscious on a cot. A man sitting on a crate and smoking a cigarette looked up at John and Cleo from the magazine he was reading. He set it down, nodding his head towards them in acknowledgement as he asked "You lot need some work done on you?" Before they could give anything other than a brief answer, the man had hopped off of the crate and started looking them over. He quickly grabbed John by the shoulder and led him and Cleo towards a few empty cots, taking a long drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and extinguishing it with his foot. "It's just a few scratches," said John as he was basically forced unto a cot. "Speak for yourself," said Cleo as she rubbed her ribs. She untucked her shirt and slowly lifted up the bottom, revealing an abstract painting of reds, yellows and purples across her lower torso. "Fuck," she said through a nervous laugh, "didn't expect it to look like that. In the movies, people get beat to hell and back, and yet they always seem to walk away with just a few little nicks here and there." The man set down John's wounded arm and examined Cleo's ribs, eventually saying "It looks much worse than it actually is. Your ribs don't seem to be broken, which is very good; shards of bone are nasty little fuckers, tearing up organs and such. When did this happen?" "Well, we've been walking around for awhile... I think the fight happened maybe twenty minutes ago?" answered Cleo. The man responded "Then your stomach probably isn't punctured, else you'd be either dead or screaming. There's definitely internal bleeding, though, that's for damn sure." He stopped and ran a hand through his hair, saying "Yeah, I can deal with most of this. Easy. $50. You got it?" John and Cleo nodded, and they both went through their pockets until they had collectively amassed the amount.

As he grabbed a few supplies and started to clean and stitch up their cuts, starting with the wound on John's arm, he began to sing a few folk tunes in a low and quiet voice, almost as if he was simply humming. In a short amount of time, he had patched them both up. "Is there anything I can do about this right now?" asked Cleo, with a hand on her ribs. The man glanced at her as he clipped the last piece of suture, and shook his head and shrugged, saying "Not really. Get thee to a hospital." John raised an eyebrow at the man's choice of using the word "thee", but he figured that he was probably quoting something. When the man had finished his work, without so much as saying another word he left the two of them and sat back on the crate, lifting up his magazine after lighting another cigarette. John and Cleo stood up and collected themselves, before leaving the dank clinic. Outside, the sun had climbed a bit further into the sky, flooding the city with even more light as it continued to rise. The two of them continued on their mission, making their way towards the Blue Shirts' headquarters. As they drew closer, John stuck to the shadows and scanned the surrounding area, eventually deciding to spy on the hideout from a nearby abandoned building. As he peered at the hideout through a foggy window, Cleo rocked on her heels and asked "Well, we're here. So... what's the plan, again? Just walk right in and get the shit kicked out of us? Or maybe we could keep gawking at them from the shadows like a bunch of fucking peeping toms until they start conveniently shouting out all of the details of their evil plans for us to hear?"

"I know," said John, sighing, "we're probably wasting our time. But I wanted to get a look at things, you know, maybe find a way in. If you don't look, you never find out." "Well, we could steal some disguises, right? Beat up some Blue Shirts and take their, well, blue shirts," asked Cleo. John shook his head, saying "I don't think so. That kind of shit only works in the movies. They'd have to be pretty stupid to fall for it." Cleo tilted her head and bit her lip, replying "Yeah, maybe. But I think you're greatly underestimating how stupid real people can be. You know, I used to sneak into places all the time, kinda a hobby of mine. And I found that if you just act like you belong, and look like you belong, then pretty much nobody will question you." John rolled his eyes and laughed briefly, saying "You know what? You've convinced me. I mean, it's probably our only option at this point anyway. But I should probably mention that the Blue Shirts know me. After you kick the shit out of people enough times, they tend to remember your face. And I wasn't exactly a background figure in last night's battle. They'd remember me." Cleo put a hand to her chin and thought for a moment, before shooting John a sly smile. "The Blue Shirts have female members, right?" she asked. John nodded, and replied "Yeah, a few. Why?" "Well, they'd definitely remember a Red Sleeve like you, but they probably wouldn't recognize me. I could do some skulking around, no problem." John shook his head, replying "No way. If that guy on the metro managed to remember you from last night's battle, then chances are that someone else will." "Oh, come on," replied Cleo, smiling, "that was just one guy, and the only reason that he remembered me was 'cause I messed up his face. Other than that, I really didn't get involved with the fight beyond a few punches and kicks here and there, so I doubt that in all of the chaos anyone other than him would remember my face." John thought about it, shaking his head slightly as he looked down and exhaled. "Face it; i'm the only shot you've got of finding out whatever it is that you're trying to learn from spying on the Blue Shirts," continued Cleo. Though her voice was confident, her eyes were narrowed slightly as if she was tired or in pain, and she was rubbing her ribs with one of her hands. John looked up at her, noticing her discomfort, and asked "You sure you're up for it?" "Yeah," said Cleo, lowering her hand from her ribs, "definitely. Like the doc said, it's not so bad. I'll take care of it later."

A few minutes later, the plan was being carried out with masterful skill. Wearing the clothes of an unlucky Blue Shirt who happened to be taking a leak in the alley beside the abandoned building (who was, after being knocked out, locked in one of the abandoned building's rooms), Cleo walked into the hideout with an air of confidence. Just as she had thought, almost nobody gave her any trouble at all, save for a sentry near the front door. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked, putting his hands on his belt as he scanned her up and down. "Cleo," she responded. The man shook his head, and replied "I didn't ask for your name. I asked who the fuck you were. Let me guess... a new blood, right? Some asshole's little sister, looking to prove herself?" Cleo narrowed her eyes. "It's none of your fucking business, but yeah, I guess I am. My brother's John," she said, figuring that one of the Blue Shirts had to have that name, since it's pretty popular in this story (two people have that name so far, and counting). The sentry laughed, saying "First of all, it is my business. Everyone and everything that comes through that door is my business. And secondly... John (make that three)? Really? That fucker can't even lift a match without breaking a sweat; I can't even imagine how pathetic his sister must be." Cleo sensed that a display of strength was called for, and so she punched the sentry in his nose, sending him to the floor. "Don't ever talk about my brother like that. And, more importantly, don't ever talk about me like that. You hear?" The sentry quickly got back to his feet and rubbed his nose, saying "Damn, girl! You're lucky i'm a gentleman, otherwise I'd make you pay for that cheap-shit sucker punch. Anyway, you're a hell of a lot stronger than your brother, that's for damn sure. You keep on laying people flat, and filling out that blue shirt as well as you do, and I'll be glad to see you stick around for awhile." Cleo stuck to her rough persona and ignored him, brushing her way past a few Blue Shirts as she ventured further into the hideout.

We're now twelve chapters in, and yet a coherent plot has yet to be revealed! Honestly, I don't really know where i'm going with this weird tale of blood and diamonds, but i'm determined to see it through to the end. Or at the very least, I can satisfy my curiosity as to just how far I can get before it becomes too convoluted to salvage. As always, if anyone has any questions, comments, or general feedback, feel free to scribble your thoughts on a paper airplane and throw it my way. You have my apologies in advance for any hilarious errors, typos, or plot-holes you may find throughout my entries, as I have an awful habit of not catching those until days (or even weeks) after posting them.

Chapter Twelve



Cleo was making good time as she navigated her way through the dark hideout, running into relatively few problems. However, every step she took seemed to make her feel progressively worse, as her wound continually flared up in a strange mix of numbness and sharp pain. More than anything, she wanted to find a bed to collapse in, preferably in a genuine hospital, but her curiosity drove her onward. Figuring that the most well defended place in the hideout held the most valuable information, she turned her attention to a certain hallway where two guards were posted, and became determined to find out what was behind the door they were standing beside. Her mind raced with plans and possibilities as she thought of how to get past the two guards. Luckily for her, she didn't have to do a thing; the door swung open, and a man walked out of the room with a distressed demeanor. As he began to walk towards the corner around which Cleo was spying on the guards, she quickly started to withdraw from the scene. However, as she turned to leave, she felt a wave of unease fall upon her. She felt more tired then ever and held back the urge to vomit, all while trying to evade the man walking towards her (who would probably ask her who she was and why she was snooping around the guarded and obviously important room down the hall, and she was currently in no shape to fast talk her way out of trouble). Her fears soon disappeared as the man turned the corner and proceeded to walk right past her without noticing her in the slightest, obviously distracted by something he was tossing around in his mind. Cleo was about to sigh, however as her urge to vomit had returned she suspected that she'd probably end up releasing more than just an exhalation.

She took a few steps back and sat down, pressing her back to the wall and putting her hands on her forehead as she tried to relax. As she did so, she began to hear the guards around the corner talking in low voices. She leaned towards the corner and listened intently: "I don't think so. No way. He's one of the best, you know? I've got no doubt in my mind that he'll pull through." "Oh come on, man. This dank fucking falling apart hideout smells bad enough without you throwing bullshit around. You heard the same as I did; the Boss' three best assassins are on his ass now. He's got no chance." "Did he say three? I thought he said two. Either way, Luke'll beat 'em just like he took down the Jones brothers last year." "Fuck the Jones brothers. And yeah, he definitely said three. I mean, come on, this door is so fucking thin i'm surprised you couldn't hear the fucking beads of sweat hitting the floor." Before the other guard could respond, a voice from behind the door said "You're quite right; the door to my office is rather thin. After this business with Luke is taken care of, I think I'll replace it with something that has a bit more heft to it. That way, I won't be able to hear your screams when you're being mercilessly tortured down the hallway." Both of the guards straightened up, and one of them was deeply frightened by the Boss' words. The other guard shot him a reassuring smirk and said in a very low voice "Don't worry, man. Even if he changes the door, the walls are still thin as fuck. He'll hear our screams just fine."

Cleo stood up and pressed a palm into her forehead. While she was still in pain, she now felt slightly better, and started to take a few steps. She figured that if she could catch up with Luke and follow him without passing out, she might have a chance to make this mission worthwhile. After all, a Blue Shirt being hunted by his own people could easily be persuaded to switch sides. Her steps became quicker and more solid as she looked around for Luke, and she eventually found him near the entrance of the hideout. He was sitting at a sort of make-shift bar, a beer in his hand. Cleo nonchalantly moved through the crowd of Blue Shirts, trying as hard as possible to mask her pain as made her way out of the hideout, looking at Luke one last time before she walked out the door. She figured that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and tried to relax as she walked down the street. After stepping out of the Blue Shirts' line of sight, she brought her hands up to her ribs and lifted up the bottom of her shirt. Just as she expected, her wound looked much worse then before, and she now suspected that it was more serious than the "doctor" at the clinic had led her to believe. All she could do now was hope that none of her organs were damaged, and carry on until she could get to a hospital. She reached John's location and shot him a fake smile as he waved to her. He almost immediately noticed that she was nursing her ribs, and stepped forward to help her. "What happened? Did you get in a mix, and have to fuck someone up or something?" he asked. She raised an arm and replied "No. Well, I guess I did fuck up one guy's nose. But this is just from the fight on the metro."

John narrowed his eyes and said "I thought the doc said it wasn't too serious?" Yeah," replied Cleo, "he did say something like that, didn't he? But while the first part of his advice wasn't all that great, I think the part when he recommended that I get to a hospital still has a ring of truth of it. Anyway, before I fall down and vomit to death or something, I've got some news. There's a guy having some drinks in there, Luke, who apparently pissed off his gang. Their boss is sending assassins after him. If you can get to him, I figure you've got a good chance of getting him on our side." "Sure," replied John, "just tell me what he looks like. I'll watch the hideout, and when he leaves, I'll tail him." Cleo nodded, saying "Yeah, alright. He's, uh... well, he's got a few cuts on his face, around one of his eyes. He's got brown hair, some stubble, and..." John's eyes widened when she mentioned the cuts, and he eventually cut her off (pun intended), saying "That's enough. I think I know him. In fact, he's pretty much the reason why I came out here. Right after that war we had with the Blue Shirts, I saw something of the most supremely fucking odd variety, and he's got the answers I need." "Well, that's fantastic," replied Cleo. "Anyway, I think my job here is done. I'm off to find some medical attention. Have fun." "Do you need any help?" asked John. "No," said Cleo, "I can make it. I feel like shit, but honestly, I feel better than I did back in the hideout. Right now, i'm more worried about how much the hospital is gonna charge me." John laughed, and replied "Don't worry about that. When this is all over, just tell me how much they put you back and I'll take care of it. After all, a deal is a deal." "Just don't make me bring a receipt," said Cleo as she walked away, "I always fucking lose those things." As Cleo left, John turned his attention to the hideout, and waited patiently for Luke to emerge. However, just then, there was a banging noise coming from nearby. "Let me out!" shouted the Blue Shirt that John and Cleo had knocked out earlier, as he banged on the locked door of the room they had left him in. As the clanging and shouting continued, John quickly walked over to the room and opened the door. A well placed kick later, John was back at his post, focusing intently on the door of the hideout down the street.

I don't feel that great right now. It's times like these that I need something to distract myself with, so I guess it's time for some more ridiculous Hi-NRG and nonsensical writing. Here's a super cheesy yet oddly catchy song that I stumbled upon awhile back, along with a gloriously bad music video.

Chapter Thirteen



The aliens were continuing with their work in Luke's spare bedroom, save for Qez, who was searching through cabinets in the kitchen with one hand and holding a beer in the other. The other aliens dripped with sweat as they kept up their tireless pace in the hot apartment, and they took a few moments now and then to consume a type of flavorless nutrient paste provided by Heyt. Valk set down his soldering gun and wiped his brow, leaning back in his chair as he stretched and yawned. After quickly swallowing some of his ration of nutrient paste, he turned his attention towards the open door of the room. "Hey Qez," he shouted, "you alright?" Qez briefly glanced over her shoulder, before continuing her rummaging. "Uh, yeah. I feel a little better," she replied. Valk picked up his soldering gun, and before getting back to work said "Well, take as much time as you need. That was a pretty nasty fall you took. How's your arm feeling, anyway? Still too sore to start hauling again?" Qez looked down at her arm, which she was using to pry open the bottle of beer. "Uh, yeah. Still hurts like a fuckin' son of a dog. I'll be fine, though, just give me..." she stopped and flipped through a TV guide, looking at what was on today, and she noticed a few good shows coming up soon. "Ooh, nice," she whispered, before looking up towards the spare bedroom and continuing "Give me like, two hours, alright?" "Sure," replied Valk with a smile. As he continued soldering, he once again picked up a book with his free hand, the cover and pages of which were now warped by his sweat, and continued where he had left off. A delicious sandwich in hand, and a television in front of her, Qez yelled "Thanks. Hey, you guys make sure to enjoy that nutrient paste, alright?" Retix looked towards the doorway and gave a weak smile, amused yet obviously still in pain from her ceaseless headaches. She and the other aliens knew exactly what Qez was up to, yet they humored her and played along with it. After all, Qez was the youngest of them and tended to be treated with leniency, especially since her experiences during the war were the worst of all of them. Retix brushed back her hair before starting to work again, and shouted "Are you sure that you don't want us to save any for you?" "Oh yeah," replied Qez, lifting up her sandwich. "I'm sure."

After having a few drinks and clearing his head, Luke stood up from the bar and prepared to leave. He wasn't too worried about being gunned down where he stood; he knew how the Boss' assassins handled their targets, and that they almost never carried out hits while inside the Blue Shirt's hideout. The Boss liked to have such things handled privately, away from where he did business, in a place where there were no Blue Shirts around with old loyalties who might feel obligated to jump into the fray. Though he rather felt like being alone as he walked back to his apartment, he was joined by an old friend of his, who he ran into in the street outside of the hideout. "Luke!" he shouted, sitting on the steps to an apartment building with a few other Blue Shirts. After Luke nodded towards him in acknowledgement, the man threw away the cigarette he was smoking and jogged towards his friend. "Hey, Luke! You alright?" he asked as he caught up to him. "Yeah," replied Luke, with his gaze fixed to the asphalt. "I'm good, Dave. It's just been a shitty day, born from a shitty night, you know?" "Yeah," replied Dave, "I heard about that shit that went down last night. And judging by the word on the street and that cut on your face, it seems like you really have been gettin' the shit kicked out of you lately. But that's old news, man. I mean, the universe is always tryin' the beat the hell out of you. Remember the Jones brothers, how they ambushed and almost gutted you? But no matter what shit gets thrown at you, you always make it through in the end." Luke glanced towards him and somewhat abruptly said "The Boss put out a hit on me." Dave's eyes widened slightly and he nodded his head, a grin appearing on his face. "No shit?" he asked with a air of excitement. "No shit," answered Luke. "Damn, that's fuckin' awesome, man!" shouted Dave. Luke looked at him and smiled back through a confused expression, saying "Well i'm glad someone is getting a laugh out of my impending doom." Dave stretched his arms and replied "No man, it's not like that. It's just... after you take out those assassins, your reputation is gonna hit the clouds! Nobody's ever gonna fuck with you, test you, ever again." "You're really that sure that i'm gonna get through this alive?" "No doubt in my mind, man. Not a single fuckin' doubt."

Of course, John wasn't too pleased about the arrival of Luke's friend. His plan was to confront Luke a few blocks away from the Blue Shirt's hideout, when he was seperated from anyone in his gang that might be watching, and question him. In fact, after learning from Cleo that the leader of the Blue Shirts had put out a hit on Luke, John had hoped that he might even be able to convince him to join the Red Sleeves. A former member of high ranking like Luke could show them where most of the Blue Shirt's illicit operations were located, helping them to take out all of their sources of revenue, and also assisting them in the inevitable war between the gangs. But most importantly, John needed to know about the aliens. Did they actually exist, or were they just a hallucination? And if they were indeed real, then what exactly were they doing on Earth? He followed Luke and Dave in the shadows, waiting for his chance. As the two approached the building where Luke's apartment was located, they stopped and continued to talk beside the building's steps. Meanwhile, a street musician was playing a saxophone, and Dave made a few gestures to let him know that he wasn't impressed by his music. After a short amount of time had passed, the two friends went their seperate ways, and John prepared to follow his quarry. Luke walked up the steps and prepared to open the door to the apartment building, when he stopped in his tracks. After thinking for a moment, he turned around and walked away. John wasn't too surprised at his erratic behavior; he figured that Luke was starting to become paranoid of being ambushed by his would-be assassins. Following with as much stealth as possible, he watched as Luke climbed up the fire escape and crouched outside of a certain window. After scanning the inside of the apartment, Luke sighed with relief and knocked on the window pane. At this point, John had been hoping that what he had seen last night was simply the result of a tired mind and too many punches to the head, however a shiver ran across him as one of the aliens appeared on the other side of the window. Luke pointed to the latch and gestured which direction for the alien to pull it in, and the window was soon opened. Luke stepped into the apartment and closed the pane behind him, latching it shut. Of course, John wasted no time in silently making his way towards the window, crouching as he carefully looked into the apartment.

"How did it go with your friends?" asked Qez. Luke rubbed his eyes and shook his head, replying "Not that great. They, uh... well, they're sending some people to come and kill me." Qez smiled, and said "That's wonderful!" Luke looked up at her in disbelief. "Why is everyone so happy about me getting filled with bullets?" he asked, putting a hand to his forehead. "Oh," said Qez, noticing Luke's stress and patting him on the back, "I didn't mean it like that. Your death would certainly make all of us stop and pause for a moment of reflection, maybe even for a whole minute. Anyway, your situation is good news because it puts you in a position where you would benefit from assistance. As we have been meaning to ask for your assistance in a certain matter, we now have the opportunity to fairly exchange services with each other." Luke looked at her with a questioning expression, asking "You mean, I help you aliens, and you all help me?" Qez nodded. "I already said I'd help all of you out," said Luke. Before Qez could respond, a voice to Luke's side said "You did, and you have helped us considerably by giving us a place where we can work in peace. However, we require more from you." Luke turned to face the speaker, recognizing the voice as belonging to Retix, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "How much more?" he asked. "I'm afraid that our device needs considerably more resources than we currently have, and many of those necessary components are somewhat difficult for us to find as we are newcomers to this world. We need natives to assist us." "Natives?" asked Luke. "Yes," interjected Heyt, who had just stepped out of the spare bedroom. "We need people, and as many as possible. Do you, by chance, have any friends that don't want to kill you?" "Yeah," replied Luke with narrowed eyes, "I do. In fact, if I survive this attack, I'll have the whole gang on my side again." "Splendid," replied Heyt, though he sounded more tired than excited. "Consider it a deal, then. We'll protect you, in exchange for access to these friends of yours." Luke scratched his head, and said "Uh, well... it's not that simple. They're not just gonna run a bunch of errands for me unless I can..." Suddenly, he was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a voice exclaimed "Pizza delivery." Luke looked at Qez and sighed as he began to walk towards the door, however she quickly put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. "Uh, Luke? I didn't call for a pizza," she said. The doorway exploded in a cloud of splinters, sending Luke and Qez to the ground. A woman rushed into the apartment with a smile on her face and reckless abandon in her heart, as well as a shotgun in her hands. Luke crawled backwards behind cover, and made his way towards a pistol that he kept in a drawer. He could tell that she was wearing bulletproof armor underneath her clothes, and he knew that probably nothing short of a bullet to the head would be sure to put the assassin down.

Qez quickly got to her feet and rushed the assassin, who sent her back to the ground with a powerful shot to the stomach. Snapping the lever action of her shotgun down and up as she turned, the assassin fired another shot towards Retix and Heyt. Though the shot hit them and stopped them for a moment, they seemed relatively unharmed. The assassin wasn't startled in the least by the appearances of the aliens or their durability, since she had already seen firsthand that a well placed blast could send them backwards just as it would to a human. Unfortunately for her, Qez was far from dead, and the angry alien got to her feet and quickly closed the distance between her and the assassin. Luke opened the drawer, but found nothing inside. He quickly realized that someone (Qez) had gone through almost every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen, carelessly throwing the contents around as if looking for something (food), and he began to look around for wherever the gun might have been placed. Qez rushed the assassin and grappled with her, eventually slamming her against the wall. The other aliens, who had been working when the assassin attacked, were now joining the fight as well. The assassin collected herself and fired off as many shots as she could, now frantically fighting for her life. The aliens were much more powerful than they looked, and Qez broke one of the assassin's arms with relatively little force. Using her last bit of energy, the assassin fought off Qez, Retix, and Heyt, using her final shot to get them off of her. This time, the shot didn't simply push them away from her; the blast also left Qez with a wound in her side. The assassin used the opportunity to dash for the door. However, just before she could escape, Tyl lifted up some sort of alien weapon and fired an energy blast towards her. The assassin was knocked off of her feet, hitting a wall before hitting the ground. Her right hand and the majority of her right leg seemed to vanish, and the whole right side of her body was littered with burns. It was then that Luke found his pistol, tossed haphazardly into an empty bag that once contained chips. No longer having a need for it, he left it there, and stood up as he looked around the apartment. Qez noticed him looking at her wound. She looked down and pressed her hand against the bleeding injury, commenting "Damn shield needed time to recharge after taking that first shot dead on." "You'll be fine," spoke Retix, as she and the others helped her into the spare bedroom, presumably to perform medical procedures. Valk, however, stayed back from the rest of them, and knelt down over the assassin. "You okay?" asked Luke. "Thinking," replied Valk. After a few moments, he bent forward and picked up the assassin, who seemed to still be alive, carefully carrying her into the spare bedroom. Luke rubbed his eyes for awhile, before reluctantly following the aliens into their workshop.

John had witnessed the entire event, and didn't quite know how to proceed. He could confront Luke and offer to help, but they might take him for an assassin and kill him out of caution. Besides, he had no idea what the motives of the aliens were, only that he had overheard them saying that they needed more resources and humans to help acquire them. Unbeknownst to him, he was not the only person watching the scene from afar; there was a man in a room in a building across the street from Luke's apartment complex, spying on the events with binoculars. "Fuck," said the man as the fight came to a close. He shook his head, saying "Goodbye, Sam. You always were too fucking reckless." "We should have attacked at once, Stan, like I recommended," said a voice behind him. Stan laughed, replying "No, because that would have been the smart thing to do. Sam always had to try her best to fuck everything up for us, begging us to let her take the first shot and prove herself... guess we don't have to worry about that shit anymore, right Jason?" Jason shrugged, saying "I don't disagree. I'll still miss her, though. Nobody could put together a mixtape like she could." Stan gave him a brief smile, before looking down at the ground. "So, what now?" asked Jason. Stan stopped for a moment to think about what he had seen through his binoculars; he could have sworn that Sam fired right at those weird looking people helping Luke, yet only one of them was injured. And that blast that killed Sam was unsettling. It seemed to seriously burn her, yet the surrounding apartment was somehow not scorched from the shot. "Those fuckers who killed Sam... there's something off about them. They're wearing this shiny clothing, some kind of fucking armor... I mean, it doesn't look like much, like somethin' out of a fantasy novel, but it can take a hell of a lot of damage. And they've got some kind of weapon... I've never seen anything like it." "You were the one with the eyes," replied Jason, gesturing towards Stan's binoculars. "Who do you think they were?" Stan bit his lip and thought about it, before answering "Rival gang would be the best bet, but I didn't recognize their style. Maybe they're from out of town, looking to expand and using Luke as a contact..." Jason scratched his chin, and asked "You think Luke is a traitor, helping another gang move in?" Stan shrugged, replying "Well, he hasn't been on good terms with the Boss for awhile now, ever since that time that the Boss killed one of his friends for insubordination. And with the shit that happened last night... I wouldn't be surprised if other gangs have been contacting him for awhile, and i'm thinkin' that last night he finally said yes. After calling a war without permission, and getting his ass kicked, he knew that the Boss would try to take him out, and so after losing the battle he asked for help." "I don't know," said Jason, "to me, it just doesn't really add up. But it's clear that these are no ordinary gangbangers. If a well equipped gang has their eyes on our territory, and is making a move, I think the Boss will want to know about it." Stan nodded, and handed Jason his binoculars, saying "You're right. Since i'm the one that saw what happened, and got a good look at those crazy fuckers, I'll do it. You stay here and keep an eye on them." "What about the guy outside the window?" asked Jason. Stan laughed, and replied "The Red Sleeve? Fuck him. He's probably following Luke, looking for revenge or some shit. I'm guessing that seeing Sam get blown to bits probably took his nerve from him, so I doubt that he'll make a move or get in our way. But by all means, if he hasn't run away already, feel free to kill him if you want. I'll be back in a bit."

It was only a matter of time before I played this song... :laughing:

Chapter Fourteen



John was sitting on a street bench, looking around with a calm yet alert gaze. He had taken off his denim jacket earlier while spying on Luke, due to the extreme heat that had come over the city as the sun rose higher into the sky. However, despite the discomfort the jacket caused him, he decided that taking it off had been a foolish mistake. The other two assassins had yet to reveal themselves and were surely lurking around nearby, but his caution also stemmed from the simple fact that he was still in Blue Shirt territory and could be recognized at any second. He dropped his hands down onto his legs and started drumming with his fingers, waiting for his reinforcements to arrive. As the time seemed to pass very slowly, and the heat bore down on him without relent, he felt a wave of relief when finally he spotted two familiar faces near the metro platform. He bent forward onto his knees and raised a hand to motion them towards him. Of course, he didn't have the luxury of being able to call in every single Red Sleeve that he was on good terms with; he knew that the circumstances were beyond believability, and that he could only call in the people who would back his play regardless. Also, he figured that calling in an army of Red Sleeves would simply get them blasted apart by the aliens, while also kicking off yet another war with the Blue Shirts. If he was going to figure out the aliens motivations, while simultaneously exploiting Luke's estranged relationship with the Blue Shirts to get him to join the Red Sleeves, then he needed more subtlety and finesse than a bloodthirsty war party would allow.

"Hey!" said Ricardo as he and Jackson, one of the new bloods, approached John. John stood up and stretched, smiling slightly as he greeted them back with a nod. Ricardo was known for being a heavy hitter, having a reputation that painted him as nothing more than a brute that got the job done, however John knew him better than that. John had also been slated as brainless muscle when he had first joined, and he recognized in Ricardo the same intelligence and instinct that had been initially overlooked in himself during his time as an enforcer. He had called in the new blood because he felt that he knew him well enough to trust him, and also because new members were always eager to do whatever was asked of them, in the hopes of distinguishing themselves and garnering favor. "So, what's going down?" asked Ricardo, as he fussed with the canvas jacket covering his colors. "You were pretty vague on the phone." John nodded his head towards the street, saying "Come on," as he started to walk. The others followed him, and he continued talking as he led them towards Luke's apartment. "Last night, while you were finishing off the Blue Shirts," he said, looking at Ricardo, "I followed the leader of their war party after he tried to slip away. I tailed him to an alley, where he collapsed. However, before I could take him out, there was a flash of light. These... things stepped out of the light, and..." "Things?" asked Ricardo, smiling and narrowing his eyes. Though Jackson was also listening intently, he didn't seem nearly as curious. "Yeah," continued John, "things. Best I can figure, they're aliens of some kind, and they've got firepower like you wouldn't believe. They've also got some sort of shield around them. At first, I thought it was their weird clothing that protected them, kinda like armor, but now I think it's actually some kind of barrier, one that can get punched through with repeated force." Ricardo thought for a moment, before shrugging and nodding, saying "Alright." "You believe me?" asked John in a tone of voice that implied that he already knew the answer. "Hell no," replied Ricardo, "I never did buy into any of that alien shit people talk about nowadays. It's just sci-fi movie bullshit, you know? But even if I don't believe you, I still trust you. There are weird lookin' people out there with good weapons, then I say that they're probably just a gang that got their hands on some of that fancy military tech, you know? If you think they're threat to the Red Sleeves, or at the very least a good challenge, then i'm game." John looked back at Jackson, who was being rather silent, to see how he felt about the situation. Jackson simply shrugged in agreement. "Well alright," said John through a smile. "Anyway, the plan is to confront them. I've been skulking around in the shadows long enough, and it's time that I finally made sense of all of this. I'd rather not start a fight with them, seeing as how they've got a crazy laser gun, so try to stay calm and follow my lead. I don't think they'll attack us, since they seem to be looking for potential allies to help them out with some plan of theirs, but... well, it still might get ugly. They're working with a Blue Shirt named Luke, who is currently being attacked by assassins sent by his leader." "No shit?" asked Ricardo, laughing. "What'd he do to piss the big man off?" John shrugged, and replied "Probably getting his ass kicked in last night's battle. Caused the Blue Shirts to lose a lot of respect, you know? Anyway, they're on the lookout for assassins, and they might peg us for the next wave. Like I said though, just follow my lead and we'll be fine. If we play our cards right, we could gain a serious edge against the Blue Shirts today." "Groovy," said Ricardo, and the three Red Sleeves continued on their way to Luke's apartment, the silence between them broken every now and then by the occasional nervous joke. Even though Ricardo didn't really believe that aliens were walking the earth, and Jackson seemed to be relatively calm about everything, they both suspected that they were in for a serious fight all the same.

While Stan was leaving to report back to the Boss, Jason had looked out the window with the binoculars and noticed that the Red Sleeve spy had disappeared; at this time, John had realized that he needed help, and left the scene to call for reinforcements using a nearby payphone. Stan made his way back to the Blue Shirt's headquarters, thinking of just what exactly he was going to say to the Boss. As the hideout wasn't terribly far from Luke's apartment, it didn't take Stan very long to reach his destination. Standing in front of the Boss' desk, he decided to forgo nuance; he simply told the Boss exactly what he had seen, suggesting that there was some strange new gang in town with high-tech weapons. The Boss, oddly enough, seemed to take the news rather well; without saying anything, he simply smiled and let Stan carry on uninterrupted. As Stan reached the end of his report, the Boss stood up from his chair and grabbed a sawed off shotgun from one of his desk's drawers. "Get some men," he said to Stan. "I want to see these trespassers with my own eyes." "Boss, I don't think that's..." began Stan, before the Boss signaled him to stop by raising a hand. "It's quite alright. Luke tried to tell me that he had met some characters last night, people that he believed could assist us in our endeavors. And considering the ease with which they apparently decimated Sam, I'd say he was correct. For now, the hit on Luke is suspended; I want to meet his acquaintances. If they do indeed possess the powerful weapons and armor that you saw them use, then I think they would make powerful allies. And if they don't have those resources, or if they aren't to my liking, then we'll simply execute them for entering our territory uninvited." Stan nodded, and left the office to gather up a war party.

As the Red Sleeves were approaching the apartment complex, John beckoned them to stop. "Over there," he said, pointing to a Blue Shirt leaning against the building. "Probably a scout or guard. I doubt an assassin would be standing around in his colors, watching the streets," said Jackson. "Definitely," added Ricardo, "but he shouldn't be too much trouble to take care of." However, as soon as he said that, two more Blue Shirts came into view; they seemed to be patrolling the area. After looking around, the Red Sleeves noticed even more of them, posted around the exterior of the building. "Damn," said Ricardo with a sigh. "You think they're here to spy on Luke, make sure that the assassins finish the job?" asked Jackson, but John shook his head. "I don't think so. There's way too many of them for just a recon job." "You think something went down while you were waiting for us to show up?" asked Ricardo. "Maybe," replied John with a shrug. He scanned the scene, looking for a place where he could see into Luke's apartment. The fire escape was out of the picture; it was too out in the open, and they'd have to pass a few guards to get to it. However, he noticed that there was a building near the apartment complex, seperated by a street. The rooms in the side of the building facing the street had windows, and one such room was lined up perfectly with the window of Luke's apartment. "Come on. I've got an idea," said John, as he led the Red Sleeves away.

I never expected this to happen, but... after listening to all of this Disco, i'm actually starting to really like it. I must be going insane. Here's a fun song by Tapps, a Hi-NRG/Synth Pop trio from Canada! :laughing:

Chapter Fifteen



Ricardo popped a piece of chewing gum into his mouth, leaning against the wall beside him with crossed arms. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked John, who was slowly but silently picking the lock to the door of the apartment with the fortuitous window. John smiled, and without taking his eyes off of his work replied "I'm a criminal. It's what I do." Ricardo laughed, saying "Oh, come on. Hell, i'm a criminal and I don't know how to do that shit." "Allow me to rephrase that; i'm a good criminal," replied John. Ricardo rolled his eyes and jokingly punched John's arm, saying "Fuck you, man." Just then, the lock clicked open, and John carefully opened the door. The Red Sleeves cautiously walked inside the apartment, and luckily for them it seemed as though nobody was home. John immediately made his way towards a window on the far side of the apartment. As he did so, Jackson started opening doors, saying "You do your spying thing. I've gotta take a leak," as he searched for the bathroom. Unfortunately for the Red Sleeves, this was the same apartment that Jason, the assassin, had been using to spy on Luke from afar. Of course, after hearing them unlock the door, he quickly ducked into a hiding space; he knew that it couldn't be Stan opening the door, since he had seen him entering Luke's apartment complex with the Boss. After scanning the scene and seeing who the intruders were, he decided that he could take them. Stepping out of his cover, he punched John in the throat and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him falling to the floor. Ricardo grabbed a vase off of the kitchen counter and threw it at Jason, who dodged it with ease. Jason then pulled out a silenced pistol from his shoulder holster and fired a shot at Ricardo, who jumped over the counter and took cover. Right as the fight had started, Jackson had opened the door to the apartment's closet in his search for the bathroom, and when Jason started to attack he quickly grabbed a baseball bat that had been stashed inside. Just as Jason was turning to shoot him, Jackson threw the baseball bat while rushing forward and closing the distance between him and his attacker. The skilled assassin shifted to the side and fired a few shots, however the bat hit his shoulder, causing him to miss. Jackson tackled him, and the two fell backwards into a nearby table. He then reached for Jason's gun, just barely managing to knock it out of the assassin's grip before he could shoot Jackson in the head. Ricardo ran out from behind his cover to join the fight, however, as he drew near, Jason kicked him in the groin. "Fuck!" yelled Ricardo as he struggled to stay on his feet. Jason continued grappling with Jackson, before striking him in the nose with his palm, and pushing him away.

John stood up, rubbing his neck and struggling to regain his breath and balance. Jason looked around for his pistol, and eventually spotted it nearby on the floor. Ricardo also saw the gun, and refused to let the assassin reach it; he stumbled forward just as the assassin was dashing towards it, and tried to keep him at bay. Though he was in no shape to stop Jason, who elbowed him in the jaw, Ricardo still managed to kick the pistol backwards, into the kitchen. Jason threw Ricardo to the side and continued after the gun, only to be tackled from behind by John, sending them both crashing forward into a mess of pots, dishes, and silverware. Jason slammed John's head into a cabinet under the sink, however it wasn't enough to incapacitate him; just as the assassin reached his pistol, John picked up a frying pan and swung it at him, hitting him hard in the side of his head. After one more swing, the assassin was down for good. John let the pan fall from his grip, and fell back to the ground in a heap of relief. Ricardo stumbled into the kitchen and looked down at the defeated assassin. "Nice," he said with a smile. "Pan fried asshole." John looked at him incredulously, saying "That's the worst joke I've heard all day, and I've heard some pretty shitty ones." "Hey," replied Ricardo as he helped John up, "you try coming up with a pun on the spot, after being kicked in the balls." "Hey, guys," said Jackson, pressing a hand to his bleeding nose, "you both alright?" As he and Ricardo began to converse, John noticed a pair of binoculars on the ground near the window, and used them to look into Luke's apartment. Just as he had suspected, there was something important going down; inside the room was a large amount of Blue Shirts, including their leader (who John recognized, as he had seen him once before while providing muscle for the Red Sleeves' leader during a meeting between the two). Because the Blue Shirts had arrived before him, and because the assassin had further stalled him, John witnessed the meeting as it was coming to a close. While he obviously couldn't hear what was being said, and he had no idea how much he'd missed, he still saw something that told him all he needed to know; before leaving the apartment, the leader of the Blue Shirts shook hands with one of the aliens and was handed one of their rifles, smiling all the while.

"Luke," said the Boss as he stood in the apartment's splintered door frame, a war party of Blue Shirts behind him. This was before the Red Sleeves had reached their vantage point. Luke was sitting on his couch (which had been moved to face the door) next to Qez, who seemed to be holding an alien weapon not unlike the one that Tyl had used earlier. In Luke's lap was a bag of chips. As soon as the Boss appeared in the doorway, Qez had lifted up her weapon. "Another friend?" she asked Luke. "Yeah," he replied, a confused expression on his face as he was expecting more assassins to arrive, but not the Boss himself. Qez's gun started to hum as if it was charging up for a shot. "Wait," said Luke. Qez shrugged, and the humming ceased. "Thank you for not shooting me," said the Boss in a calm voice. "My men tried to persuade me to let them deal with this matter themselves, that it was too dangerous for me to handle in person. They don't know me as well as you do, Luke. They'll never be able to understand why, despite our animosity towards each other, you'll never be able to take my life." Luke glared at the Boss, who smiled and stepped further into the room. Qez's gun stayed fixed on him, and he glanced at her, asking "I'm assuming that she's one of your friends from out of town?" Before either of them could answer, Heyt stepped out of the guest bedroom, holding an alien rifle. "You're correct," he said. The Blue Shirts behind the Boss were understandably worried, however none of them dared to say a word. "Is there something you wished to discuss with us?" he continued. The Boss scanned him up and down, and glanced at Qez once more. Though he was still calm, he seemed somewhat taken aback after taking a good look at them. "You really aren't just gangsters with fancy tech, are you?" he asked, gripping his shotgun tightly. "I am affiliated with no criminal organizations, and as far as I know, neither are any of my compatriots. However," Heyt said, lifting up his rifle, "our tech is indeed quite 'fancy', as i'm sure a demonstration would prove..."

The Blue Shirts behind the Boss became tense, and the ones that held firearms quickly lifted them towards Heyt. Both Luke and the Boss assured their allies to calm down, and the conversation continued. "There's no need for a demonstration. Perhaps later," said the Boss. "Now," he continued, "early this morning, Luke mentioned that he had met a group of newcomers to this city who were all very skilled with technology, and that they might be willing to lend me these skills of theirs. At first, I dismissed his words as being empty, but now I find myself intrigued by the offer. That is, if the offer still stands." At this point, more of the aliens had left the guest bedroom, each one holding a weapon. Heyt shot Retix a glance, before looking back at the Boss. "How many men do you command?" he asked. The Boss smiled, and replied "Quite a few. We own this whole section of the city, and the day is fast approaching when we shall seize control of the entirety. It's rare for us to ever be defeated or lose ground to other gangs, although," he shot a glance at Luke before continuing, "it does happen from time to time." Valk looked at the others, and said "This might be exactly what we've been hoping for." "Yes," replied Heyt, "and it might also be the very thing that dooms us." "We don't have a choice," replied Retix as she nursed her headache. After a moment, Heyt looked at the Boss and said "We need allies to find resources for us, as many as possible. And it would seem that you are quite envious of our technology. We can make you weapons... guns that require no ammunition, and depending on how you set them, they can also be used in a variety of combat situations. Is this an amicable arrangement?" The Boss smiled and said "I may be interested in your guns, but I haven't seen for myself what they're truly capable of. For all I know, they're not really worth the trouble. Perhaps you would be willing to give that demonstration you mentioned earlier?" Qez, without any hesitation, pulled the trigger on her rifle, and it began to hum. The aliens quickly moved out of the way, and Qez fired a concussive blast that knocked all of the Blue Shirts to the ground. As they looked up at her, she flipped a toggle on her rifle, setting it to destroy organic life, and said "That was a non-lethal shot. Of course, when it's set to it's lethal default, it can fire without any cautionary delay. Would you like to see?" The Boss smiled at her as he got back to his feet, saying "I think I'll test that function out on my own." Looking at Heyt, he asked "Do the lethal shots pierce through armor?" Heyt nodded, saying "The default is set to damage only organic tissue, but you can also set it to vaporize everything in front of you, if that is your preference." "Well," said the Boss, "it would seem that these weapons are definitely worth acquiring, if further testing proves the rest of the functions of these guns to be as promising as your friend's demonstration of the non-lethal mode. And that being the case, I think that we could certainly do business with each other." "Good," said Heyt. "We'll give you one rifle, and you can decide after testing it whether or not you want more. I suspect that you will. If so, we have our own projects to take care of, but we will craft as many weapons as possible for you with whatever free time we have. As long as you focus your attention on gathering our resources, that is." "We'll uphold our part of the deal, and you shall soon have whatever it is that you're looking for," said the Boss, smiling. He then stretched out his hand towards Heyt, who looked down at it with a slight expression of disgust. "Do we have a deal?" asked the Boss. Heyt knew the gesture that the Boss was making, and eventually forced himself to shake his hand. The Boss laughed, saying "Good."

Something very amazing happened yesterday. It marked the 1,000th time that somebody accidentally clicked on "Blood and Diamonds" while scrolling through the Journal section! Normally (like back when I was doing "Stuck in the Garage") I'd commemorate the event by going out and buying a bunch of random albums to review. Even though this Journal wasn't designed for reviews, I still fully intend to keep the tradition alive. Kinda...

Side Story: Cleo Goes to the Hospital

The hospital was having a massive surge of patients, something that had come to be expected as a sort of summer tradition in the city. As they had no choice but to focus on those that needed immediate care, patients with injuries deemed stable were stored away in whatever room they could fit in for later treatment. Such was the fate of Cleo, who was examined, processed, and dropped in a bed with the assurance that they would return after running a few tests. Apparently, they didn't think her wound was so bad that she needed immediate treatment, and she had to admit that while her bruises looked quite nasty, she felt better now than she had back at the hideout (but not by much). Thinking back on it, she had been feeling pretty terrible in the days before her injury; she recalled almost throwing up back at the Three Fingers Club, despite the fact that she hadn't drank too much (most of the bottles on her table were consumed by her roommate, who had left earlier that evening, and she couldn't have been too drunk if she'd been able to beat up a bunch of Blue Shirts and evade a hangover the day after), and the day before that she had a sore throat and a nasty stomach ache. "Go ahead. Kick me while i'm down. Really lay it on me," she said to the universe. The universe didn't respond, but the man in the next bed over did. He slid back the curtain between them and asked "What?" Cleo looked at him with a bit of surprise; she had thought that he was asleep. "Hm? Oh, uh... nothing. I'm just, you know, venting. The last few days have been pretty bad," she replied. The man smiled, and said "I know the feeling. So, if you don't mind me asking, what're you in for?"

"Oh," said Cleo, smiling as she gazed up at the ceiling, "not much. Just some sore ribs." She looked back at her roommate and asked "You?" "Car crash," he responded. "I broke one of my arms, one of my legs, a few ribs... but those aren't so bad. They've been mostly healed for awhile. Still got to wear the casts, though," he said, pulling down his blanket to show Cleo his injured arm and leg. "I'm sorry," said Cleo. "It must've been a nasty crash." "Yeah. A few of my organs are still recovering, which is why I can't leave," he responded. Cleo looked around her roommate's bed and noticed a stack of books on the floor, next to what looked like a plastic briefcase and a few records. "How long have you been here?" she asked. Her roommate shrugged, and said "A long time. It goes by faster if I don't count the days, you know?" "Sure," said Cleo. She turned her gaze down at the plastic briefcase, and asked "Does that work?" The roommate smiled and nodded, obviously excited that she asked about it, and used his uninjured arm to lift it up and set it in his lap. He opened it up, revealing a pristine portable record player. "My family brought it over for me, and they drop off a few new albums every once in awhile. Honestly, if it wasn't for the music, I think I'd have gone insane by now." Cleo couldn't help but smile. Her roommate looked over at her, and expectantly asked "Do you want to try it?" At first, she was going to say no, since it seemed like it was too important of a possession to him for her to mess around with, but he seemed so excited by the prospect of sharing it that she couldn't help but say yes. "Alright," she said with a shrug. He folded it back up and handed it to her, as well as pushing his stack of records towards her. She leaned over and helped him slide the records until they were right beside her bed. Setting the record player up in her lap, she grabbed the first record off of the pile and started to play it.

Pauline Murray and the Invisible Girls

While it wasn't exactly the disco that Cleo was used to, she still found herself enjoying the album right from the start. "Not bad," she said to her roommate, who had started to read one of the novels beside his bed. Without looking up from it, he smiled and responded "I know, right? Post punk and new wave are fantastic." As the album carried on, Cleo found herself growing more and more relaxed, a dozen thoughts racing through her mind as she gazed up at the ceiling. All in all, it was a pretty solid and engaging album, although the first side seemed stronger than the reverse.



The Association - Birthday

Cleo decided to play this one next, because it had fun looking psychedelic album art. She figured that it was from the sixties, and the sound of the album confirmed her suspicions. There were vocal harmonies, strong yet simple beat-style drum and bass lines, tambourines, and more trademarks of the time period, all mixed in a smooth fashion. Cleo was a bit disappointed that it didn't have more of an exciting psychedelic flavor to it (although there was a bit of a psych flair here and there); really, it had more in common with beat, pop, and folk. But it was a nice album, continuing at a slow but steady pace.



Saxon - Strong Arm of the Law

"Saxon?" asked Cleo to herself as she looked at one of the albums in the pile. "I wonder what genre they are..." She put it on the record player and set down the needle. Suddenly, she was bombarded with the power of HEAVY METAL! It definitely had more of a punch to it than most of the disco she'd danced to in the past, and she was surprised with how much she liked it. While she wasn't impressed with some of the songs, most of them were pretty fun, and the title track was nice and exciting. She wasn't about to fry her hair and buy a leather jacket, though.



Before she could put on another album, a nurse entered the room and walked over to her bed. It was the same nurse who had initially processed her, and Cleo greeted her by saying "Hey again." "Hello," said the nurse as she scanned a piece of paper on a clipboard. "I'm sorry that the doctor who examined you was in such a rush, but we've been quite busy lately. Anyway, like he initially said, the wound isn't substantial and should heal fairly quickly. After running some tests, it seems like the majority of your discomfort is probably from Stomach Flu." "I've got the Stomach Flu?" asked Cleo. The nurse nodded, and continued "Yes, and it looks like you've still got a ways to go before it leaves your system." "Huh," said Cleo with a flat voice, unsure if she should be happy that her wound was alright, or sad that she probably had many days of heaving ahead of her.

I'm back again, with another entry! I've been playing a lot of '80s Hi-NRG lately, so to change things up here's a more funky and traditional Disco classic from the '70s...

Chapter Sixteen



A few days had passed since the meeting between the aliens and the Blue Shirts, and John once again found himself cooling his heels at the Three Fingers Club, which had been repaired since the last battle between the Red Sleeves and the Blue Shirts. He was sitting at a small table, the noise and music of the scene enveloping him as he became lost in thought. After witnessing the meeting, he and the others reported back to the leader of the Red Sleeves. They had decided that trying to convince their leader of the existence of the aliens would be a waste of time, and simply told him that the Blue Shirts were making deals with a powerful new outfit in town. Not one to act rashly, the leader of the Red Sleeves sent out a number of scouts to keep tabs on the Blue Shirts and to watch for any suspicious activity. Of course, the leader of the Blue Shirts was no fool; his new weapons would help him to exterminate all of the surrounding gangs and conquer the city, however he knew that it was imperative to keep his actions a secret until it was time to strike. If the other gangs discovered that he was preparing for war and gathering a new supply of weapons, they might take the initiative and attack him first. And since the Blue Shirts were on poor terms with the other gangs, being the largest gang in this part of the city and having recently battled the others in multiple skirmishes, their neighbors might very well form an alliance to finally put an end to the common threat of the Blue Shirts. This being the case, the alien rifles were kept hidden from the majority of the gang for the time being (save for the Boss' trusted lieutenants, including the ones who had escorted him to Luke's apartment). After the tense conversation between the Boss and the aliens had ended, and the Boss expressed to his lieutenants that secrecy was of the utmost importance, Stan remembered the Red Sleeve spy he had seen earlier and told the Boss about him.

At first, the Boss wasn't too worried about the spy having seen anything beyond a glimpse of the aliens killing Sam (a story which the rest of the Red Sleeves would probably never believe anyway), since Stan had checked out the fire escape again before entering the apartment complex with the Boss, and found that the spy had disappeared after Sam's death. But after checking up on Jason and finding him dead in the kitchen of the apartment across the street, Stan and the Boss fully believed that the Red Sleeve scout had indeed seen the meeting from the vantage point. The Boss tried to convince the aliens to leave the compromised apartment and set up shop in a more secret location that was closer to the Blue Shirt hideout, however they were wary of their new ally and wished to remain where they were, and as the Boss did not yet possess the firepower to contend with them, he deigned to oblige their request for the time being. Still, certain precautions were taken to prevent any more spies from being drawn to Luke's apartment; the guards around the exterior drew far too much attention to the location, and were dispersed. The Boss was able to convince the aliens to let a small group of lieutenants reside in the apartment. Officially, they were to protect the aliens, while also finding ways to get the alien rifles to the Boss discreetly. Unofficially, they were in charge of keeping tabs on them, and to prevent Luke and the aliens from leaving unless absolutely necessary. Needless to say, the window was covered with thick drapes, and the Boss did everything possible to keep prying eyes away from the aliens. Obviously, with the Boss taking such precautions, the Red Sleeve scouts found next to nothing to report back about, save for the usual amount of brawls and revelry. Despite finding no evidence to support John's report, the leader of the Red Sleeves still believed that there was at least some truth to it (as John was not the type to be wrong about such things), and he ordered his scouts to continue their surveillance, while also warning his lieutenants to be cautious in the days to come. John, while grateful that his leader was taking at least a few precautions against the Blue Shirts, still wasn't completely satisfied by this. He offered to gather up a large war party and force his way into Luke's apartment, exposing and destroying Luke and the aliens before they could provide the Blue Shirts with any support. However, the leader of the Red Sleeves wasn't keen on starting a war with the strongest gang in the area without being absolutely certain; he decided to wait until his scouts could gather up more information about the Blue Shirts' and their dealings with this mysterious new gang in town, ideally finding evidence of extensive war preparations, which he could then use to scare the surrounding gangs into an alliance.

By this point, John was suffering from multiple injuries, and the leader of the Red Sleeves ordered him to take a few days to rest and recover. John had no intention of disobeying him, and tried his best to spend his time relaxing in his apartment, however he was quickly driven to the type of insanity that one gets from staring at a ceiling for too long. And so it was that he found himself in his current location, a place that logically should be the antithesis of where someone looking for introspection ought to go. After roughly an hour of vacantly watching the crowd on the dance floor and occasionally taking a drink, tossing all of his possible options around in his head, he was suddenly startled by a voice behind him. “You were right,” they said. “Hm?” responded John, as he turned to face them. “I said, you were right. They really do always find a way to get this place up and running again.” John smiled as he recognized Cleo, saying “Hey! How’ve you been?” Cleo, who looked a bit pale, wiped her nose and replied “Oh, I’m just great. Been puking my guts out the past few days, but now I’m out and about again. How ‘bout you? Did you kick the shit outta the Blue Shirts, or what?” John, still smiling, looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Not really. I finally caught a glimpse what they were up to, but by then it was too late for me to do anything. Now i’m just taking a break, until I can figure out my next move.” Cleo nodded, and asked “What about that guy, Luke, that the Blue Shirts were trying to kill? What happened with him? Did you convince him to switch sides?” “No,” replied John. “I couldn’t reach him in time, and he patched things up with the Blue Shirts. Now, he and…” he stopped briefly, remembering that he had never told Cleo about the aliens, before continuing, “some guys from out of town… are on good terms with them. I saw one of them give the leader of the Blue Shirts his gun. Maybe it was just a goodwill gesture, but… well, it looked like they were making a deal with each other. These out of towners are tough, and if they really are joining forces with the Blue Shirts, then the Red Sleeves are fucked.” Cleo sat down at John’s table, stealing a swig from his drink, and asked “So, what’re we gonna do about it?” “I don’t know,” replied John. “I promised to take a break for a few days, let the others handle things. Not sure if there is anything we can do.” Cleo narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, saying “Oh, bullshit. We didn’t get the shit kicked out of us just to get benched now. There’s plenty we can get done, and you know it.” “Like what?” asked John. “Well,” said Cleo, taking another sip from John’s drink, “we could do some more sneaking around, find out just what kinda deal the newcomers have with the Blue Shirts.” “There are already Red Sleeve scouts watching them from every angle,” replied John. “Still,” said Cleo with a smile, “it couldn’t hurt to have two more scouts on the job. We won’t get in their way, and we might end up seeing something that they don’t.” Though John wasn’t pleased with the idea of going against the wishes of his leader, he couldn’t bring himself to simply sit back and let things unfold. After thinking for a moment, he took his drink back from Cleo and finished it off. “Fuck it. Let’s go,” he said as he stood up, setting the empty bottle down on the table. “Peer pressure claims another victim,” said Cleo through a smile, and the two of them began to push their way out of the crowded club.

It's apparent to me that I've kept the plot to a bare minimum so far, revealing only a few details about the aliens and their backstory. Today, I'll shed a little more light on their history, which may very well show them to be far less brave and heroic than they initially made themselves out to be, depending on your point of view. This entry turned out to be much longer than I expected, exceeding the max character limit, so I split it up into two parts. For the background music, I chose a song by Hi-NRG/Disco legend Patrick Cowley, known for his hit "Megatron Man" (featured in entry twelve), as well as his collaboration with fellow musician Sylvester which resulted in popular songs like "Do You Wanna Funk?" (which, if you remember, was the first song to be featured in this journal). Patrick made his name by crafting synthesizer based Hi-NRG music catering to the club scene, however he also made a good amount of music on the side for movie soundtracks. These songs, while still rooted in his Synth Pop/Hi-NRG foundation, were much more slow and atmospheric than his other work. Of course, if you don't want to find these songs by hunting down the obscure original movies and their soundtracks, they were compiled for the 2013 "School Daze" LP.

Chapter Seventeen: Part One



It took a little convincing, but John and Cleo were able to persuade the Red Sleeve scout who was watching Luke's apartment to let them join him. The scout knew that John had been ordered to take a break from Red Sleeve matters, and he certainly didn't believe that John had given his wounds enough time to heal, however he had grown quite bored being alone for the past few hours and was glad to have the company. Together, the three of them watched Luke's apartment building intently, with Cleo making the occasional joke to help pass the time. The nights in the city had become very dark recently, and tonight was no exception, leaving the three of them somewhat blind to most anything outside of the range of the various streetlights scattered about the area, however the darkness also had the benefit of providing the scouts with a shroud that kept them from being detected. Meanwhile, inside Luke's apartment, most everyone had fallen asleep, including the aliens (who, even though they had an unforgiving work schedule, needed rest as much as anyone else). Retix found herself unable to sleep, and decided to put on a disguise and step outside for a walk under the moonlight, something that had become somewhat of a tradition for her these past few nights. Unfortunately, one of the Boss' lieutenants had remained awake. "Where are you going?" he asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. Retix turned to face him, calm yet somewhat surprised, and replied "Nowhere. Just out for a walk." "I'm supposed to watch all of you. Protect you," said the Blue Shirt as he stood up, throwing his spent cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. Retix folded her arms, saying "You've seen what we can do. Do you really think that we need your protection?"

The Blue Shirt shrugged, and said "Maybe not. But I'll tag along anyway, just in case. Don't worry, I'll be as quiet as a corpse." Before Retix could reply, Luke looked up towards her and the Blue Shirt from the couch he was sleeping on, and interjected "I'll go." The Blue Shirt looked at Luke and smiled, saying "That's generous of you. But, as the safety of these new friends of ours is of the utmost importance, I think this matter ought to be handled by a lieutenant." Luke wiped his eyes and stood up, replying "Don't forget, I am a lieutenant. I was one before all of this shit started, and I haven't been demoted yet." The Blue Shirt cleared his nose and looked to the side, saying "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you are." Luke nodded to Retix and began to walk towards the apartment's door, saying "Don't worry. If anything happens to her, it'll be my ass on the line." The Blue Shirt walked over to a chair and sat down, pulling out another cigarette as he said "Be careful. After what happened to Jason, it's clear that the Red Sleeves or some other gang are taking an interest in this apartment. I'm sure that they've got at least one scout out there now." "I've got it covered," said Retix, pulling up the lapel of her trenchcoat and tapping the edge of her hat. "Do you really think that'll fool them?" asked the Blue Shirt. Retix shrugged, and replied "It has so far." Luke put on a hat and sunglasses, and he followed Retix into the hallway outside of his apartment.

"Who's that?" asked John, nodding towards a person stepping out of the apartment complex, draped in a large trenchcoat. Not long after, another person stepped out of the building. Cleo and the scout had been playing cards to pass the time while John stayed focused on the apartment, and they both looked up in curiosity. "Oh," said the scout, "the trenchcoat. I've seen 'em before. They've come out the past few nights, usually alone." "Have you followed them before?" asked John. The scout nodded, and replied "Yeah, once. Right now i'm all alone, and I can't really tail people since I have to stay here and watch the apartment building, but back when I was first posted here, there were four of us. We noticed the trenchcoat, but we just dismissed them at first; it's a busy complex, and people are coming and going at all hours. But almost every night, the trenchcoat would step outside, and eventually we got curious. I tailed 'em, but nothing came of it." "What happened?" asked John. The scout shrugged, and replied "Seriously, nothing. They just walked over to the park and sat at a bench. After an hour or so, they got up and walked back to the building." After thinking for a moment, John said "I'm gonna follow them, see for myself. You stay here and keep an eye on things. Cleo, do you want to come with me, or stay here and watch the building?" Without responding, Cleo smiled and lifted up an arm. John grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. The two of them followed the mysterious people in trenchcoats, and tried to eavesdrop on their quiet conversation.

For the majority of their walk, John had been asking Retix various questions about how she and the others were adjusting to Earth. However, as they continued on, he noticed that she was growing quieter with each step. He began to suspect that something was on her mind. "Are you alright?" he asked. Retix nodded, gazing towards the ground as she replied "I'm fine." "Are you sure? I don't want to pry, it's just... it seems like there's something that's bothering you." "Really, i'm fi-" began Retix, before she stopped and quickly put a hand to her forehead. Obviously in pain from one of her migraines, she nursed her head for a moment, before throwing her hand down and letting out a yell of frustration. "Are they getting worse?" asked Luke, who was not so careless that he hadn't noticed her previous headaches. "No, they're..." started Retix, before stopping and sighing. "It's not just them. It's everything. I just... I need some time to think." "I understand," said Luke. "Really, I get it. It must be stressful. The same aliens that destroyed your planet are coming for Earth, and you're the only ones who can stop them." Retix narrowed her eyes and let out a small laugh, saying "Right," in a sarcastic tone. "What?" asked Luke, wondering if he had said something that warranted her tone of voice. Retix was about to say something, before she shook her head and looked down in thought. After a moment, she said "The Threx didn't destroy our planet. Not really. We did. And I have to live with what I've done. I have to, or... or they'll have all died for nothing." "What are you talking about?" asked Luke, who was legitimately confused. Retix put a hand to her forehead, and said "We... weren't completely honest with you when we first met. We didn't exactly lie to you, but we certainly didn't tell you the truth. I..." she stopped and thought for a moment, before continuing "I don't really know where to start." She sat down on a park bench, thinking of what to say as Luke sat down beside her.

"Our world was falling apart. We were an advanced civilization with a rich history, as well as a wide array of incredible scientific advancements, and a cultural emphasis on building innovative technology. However, even we weren't immune to the basic faults of greed and pride. While the people sank further down into a devastating economic depression, the nobility became more wealthy and powerful than ever before." "Wait," said Luke, "didn't Heyt say that you all came from the ruling caste?" Retix looked down. She sighed and nodded her head, before saying "We... I didn't... I was raised in a palace, and lived in it my whole life. I didn't realize what was happening to the world around me until it was too late." By her expression, Luke could tell that she didn't truly believe that. In time, Retix continued. "The people eventually rose up in rebellion. Almost the entirety of the massive population of our planet fell into a frenzy. At first, the rebels targeted the nobility, executing as many as they could find. But they eventually turned to banditry to sustain their armies, killing innocent people and losing sight of their ideals, and our world became a place of death and chaos. We... we were desperate. The rebellion had to end, before our whole world was destroyed. And so we did what our civilization does best; faced with a problem, we built a device that would help us to overcome it."

"What kind of device?" asked Luke. Retix spent a few seconds watching ripples dance across a nearby pond, before answering "One that could stop the chaos. After the riots started, all of the surviving nobles gathered together, and we discussed how we could survive the coming days. We each had our own plan; Heyt wanted us to leave our world, using what resources we had left to start new lives in a place where the rebels would never find us. Since there were rebel pirates all around our world, taking off in a spaceship was out of the question, and his plan was to build a teleportation device with enough range to reach a far away planet that was compatible with our biology. Gor wanted us to fight rather than leave our ancestral home, to go down in an honorable blaze of glory. His plan, if you can believe it, was to use our resources to build an army of robots to fight alongside us. Valk wanted to appease the rebels, and his plan was to 'redistribute the planet's wealth', a plan that essentially boiled down to buying the rebels off in exchange for mercy. There was also a noble with us named Merrus, one of the few that tried to fix the economy before the riots started, and he wanted to negotiate with the rebels to establish a new government. He considered the noble caste to be outdated, and believed that forming some sort of system of elected representatives would destroy corruption and greed." Luke, thinking of how the elected representatives of own his planet were stereotyped as being the personification of greed and corruption, held back a laugh, and Retix continued. "Regardless, we all continued to fight with each other, until eventually one of our plans was approved by the majority. My plan."

"It was actually a very simple idea. We would use our accumulated resources to develop a machine, based off of an old form of technology that had been used for years to quell small groups of protesters. It's purpose was roughly the same, only we needed our device to have much more power and range than the old tech. We devoted all of our time to building it, and it was surprisingly difficult to create. Heyt, Valk, and Tyl were the ones who designed the majority of the machine, eventually overcoming every issue of power usage, range, and so on. In time, we had a prototype. Using it would be risky, since we had absolutely no time to test it or think about the ramifications of using it, but we were running out of time. We had no choice but to turn it on, and use it on the population." "It seems pretty obvious that it was some kind of pacification device, but what did it actually do? I mean, did it force everyone to be happy, or put everyone to sleep, or..." asked Luke, and Retix cut him off by answering "Mind control. The function of the device was to take away their free will." "Oh," responded Luke. Retix looked down, and continued her story. "It could, at a range, replace someone's higher cognitive functions and behavior with our own set of desired orders and actions. Of course, Merrus was vehemently opposed to creating it, however he honored the decision of the majority and assisted us in creating it. In time, the device was turned on, and everyone within a certain radius of our position was put under our control. We continued to improve the machine, increasing it's power and spreading the range of it's influence, until the majority of the planet was under our command."

"Of course, we wanted to leave ourselves and any other surviving nobles unchanged, and so we designed the machine to be nullified by these..." she said as she swept back her bangs, revealing a small metallic band around her head, and Luke remembered seeing the other aliens wearing them. "It's a circlet made of copper, and almost every noble proudly wore one on our planet." "Copper?" asked Luke incredulously. "Weren't you basically royalty? Why not gold or silver?" Retix shrugged, and replied "It's a tradition, dating back thousands of years. Regardless, we formatted the waves of the device to react sporadically when in contact with copper, creating a small field of interference that would repel the waves away from the wearer's mind. By doing this, we spared most of the surviving nobles from the grip of the device." "What happened next?" asked Luke. "Like I said," continued Retix, "we increased the power of the device, and gained control of the majority of the planet. There were still areas beyond our reach, such as off-world colonies, but they were conquered easily enough; with most of the population following our orders, we were able to quickly build more mind control devices, placing them in the far corners of our civilization. The rebels were defeated, and order was restored to our world. We celebrated for a time, and then set about rebuilding some semblance of a society... truly, we thought that we had accomplished some grand and magnificent task, but in reality, our people were doomed."

"What happened to your people? Did you eventually release them from the device's control?" asked Luke. Retix massaged her forehead, and replied "We had originally planned to free our people from the machine's control, however... plans change. After defeating the rebels, we discussed the matter, and we agreed that we should first release a small handful of people, studying them to see if there were any side effects before we freed the majority of the population. The people that we released quickly reverted to their previous inclinations, thinking that the rebellion was still in effect. Realizing that freeing our people would only cause a repetition of the past violence, we decided to leave them under our control until we could find a solution. Our best hope was to study them, to find a way of somehow rewriting their memories, making them forget about the rebellion, while still retaining their free will and personalities. In the meantime, every person was assigned a job, and our society was rebuilt. At first, it seemed like we had made the right choice, and maybe we had, initially... but as time passed, we once again gave in to our greed. While we were studying our people, we began to notice an effect of long-term exposure to the device's waves; loss of memories. At first, we were happy, as it meant that we would soon be able to release our people without them trying to kill us. However, as more time passed, they would begin to lose more than just memories; their minds would eventually grow weaker and weaker until even the most basic of independent functions would elude them without our guidance."

Chapter Seventeen: Part Two

"We held a meeting, and discussed the matter. While some of us wanted to hold true to our promise and free our people, most of the nobles were in opposition. They believed that it was far too risky to ever free our people, and had grown very comfortable under the current system. They argued that releasing the people would be catastrophic, no matter how the waves had affected them; if they had lost too many of their memories, then releasing them would result in society collapsing into utter confusion, and if they hadn't lost enough memories, then the rebellion would begin again. Merrus tried to compromise with both sides, and proposed that we release our people in groups; every week, we would release a certain area from our control, and condition the people there to thrive once again. Looking back on it, it was a good plan, however... it was rejected by the majority." "Which side did you support?" asked Luke. After a moment of silence, Luke looked at Retix, and noticed tears running down her face. "It's probably difficult for you to understand. If you had seen the pain, the hate... the bodies stacked along the streets..." she said, wiping the tears from her eyes before continuing. "We were scared. We couldn't let it happen again. Like I said, we had grown comfortable with the ways things had become, and weren't about to risk having it all taken away. We were greedy, just as we had been in the days before the rebellion... and, once again, we paid the price."

"Time passed, and the people became more and more affected by their exposure to the waves. Eventually, our window of opportunity disappeared, and the people became too dependent on our control to ever hope of being released. Society changed drastically; while we were once a culture that thrived on innovation, with almost every member of our species able to create complex machinery, our people were now unable to perform any task beyond following orders, spending their days carrying out the most mundane of tasks. Without any conflict, there was no longer any need for weapons, and so only the nobles retained any firearms. Art, obviously, became utterly stagnant... everything that we had once cherished or taken pride in was now a hollow reminder of what we once had. In time, the Threx empire appeared and attacked, and their foreign physiology somehow rendered them immune to our device's influence. They were a civilization that took pleasure in adventuring throughout the cosmos, defeating anyone they came across and demanding a tribute from them. We didn't know of their existence before this confrontation, but as far as we could tell, they were not particularly adept at developing anything other than weapon-based technology on their own, and relied on stealing most of their tools from other cultures, forcing the scientists of conquered worlds to explain the nuances of their advances. We thought that our defenses would be enough to stop any invading threats, but we were mistaken. The only thing that the Threx had trouble with was our system of automated anti-spacecraft guns, which we quickly activated. However, after they destroyed them, we were left entirely exposed. Our mind controlled people had few weapons and no capacity for finite tactics, leading to them being completely outmatched by the seasoned invading soldiers."

After landing on our planet and routing us at every turn, they kidnapped a noble and used what must have been a very rudimentary translation device to communicate with him. He sent a message to the nobility, asking for us to meet the Threx aboard their flagship. Once there, we were to negotiate an unconditional surrender. As we had no choice but to oblige them, many of the nobles set out for their ship. However, I and a few others didn't trust the Threx, and we stayed behind. Merrus, oddly enough, decided to go with the others on the diplomatic mission, despite sharing my sentiments. I should have figured that he was up to something. And, indeed, he was. After the nobles arrived, the Threx trapped them inside the ship and slaughtered them. However, before the ambush, Merrus had used a few tools he had snuck in to scan the ship and it's databanks. The data he gathered is how we learned everything we know about the Threx, and we formed our suppositions and opinions about the Threx off of that information. Before he could be killed, Merrus used a teleportation node to escape. Not only that, but he also rescued two young nobles who had been wounded in the attack. One of them was Qez, and the other... well, he unfortunately died from his wounds not long after. Merrus had apparently surgically implanted the node within himself some time before, fearing that his opposition to the other nobles would lead to an assassination attempt. Keeping one in his pocket wasn't good enough for him, as he wanted to be able to jump at any time without delay." "What's a teleportation node?" asked Luke. "Well... I'll try to describe it briefly. My people could use computer modules to teleport, however your destination had to be calculated to an extreme degree, or else you would end up stuck inside of a wall, or have some other odd calamity happen to you. People grew tired of having to stop and find a module every time they wanted to teleport, and so nodes were invented. Basically, a node was just a hand held device that constantly scanned it's surroundings and did the calculations on it's own, allowing you to instantly warp to any module that had previously been synced with the node. Like I said before, you could still teleport to a place without any nodes or modules, but you would have to be very accurate with your calculations to pull it off. It's much easier to have a device on the other end doing the calculations for you."

"So, what happened with the Threx?" asked Luke. "After killing the nobles who had gone to meet with them, they grew even bolder. They must have thought that they had completely defeated us, killing our leaders and leaving behind a bunch of scared people who were eager to give up everything in exchange for mercy. They didn't know what we had done to our people, and they didn't realize that no number of acts of brutality could evoke any feelings of fear in them. Still, they sent out a message to our people saying that their leaders were dead, that they had no chance of winning this war, and that the Threx would spare any who assisted them in stripping the planet of all useful resources and technology. Meanwhile, Merrus had returned to us. In the data he stole from the Threx, he found various weak points on their vessels, including the flagship. He didn't believe that our mind controlled people had the capacity to fight the Threx, and demanded that they finally be freed, regardless of the consequences. He firmly believed it was the only chance of survival that we had, and that he could train a team of soldiers to exploit the weaknesses on the Threx ships, if given some time. The other nobles... disagreed."

"We killed Merrus, quickly, before he could even react, as we had other plans for our people that we knew he wouldn't ever approve of. Qez... we never told her about what happened. She was healing in isolation at the time, and as she was quite fond of Merrus, it's highly unlikely that she would ever forgive us. But it had to be done. Rather than free our people and simply hope that they could be reconditioned in such a short amount of time after being exposed to the device for so long, we decided to not leave our fate to chance. Our planet was lost, but the nobles could still escape and keep our heritage alive. We ordered all of our people to attack the Threx without relent, to serve as a distraction until we could find a way to escape. The Threx soon realized that our people were unable to be subjugated, and that not all of the nobles were dead. They also realized that our technology was so advanced that they couldn't hope of being able to understand and use it without finding the surviving nobles and forcing them to teach them. Even after the brutal rebellion, the population of our planet was still massive, and though our people were slaughtered in droves, the sheer numbers were enough to slow down the Threx in their hunt for us. Heyt sent out a probe and searched for a habitable planet where we could begin again, and he started refining the schematics that he had earlier designed for a teleportation device with enough range to instantly transport us to the best planet that he could find."

"The Threx were relentless in their search for us, and we had to stay on the run. This lasted for weeks, and even though Heyt had discovered a planet that we could survive on, Earth, our constant moving made it incredibly difficult for Heyt to make his calculations. The probe that he had sent out had a teleportation node in it, and after it had sent back readings of Earth, Heyt gave it the command to land on the planet, serving as a easy to access conduit. However, the probe happened to land in an alleyway in this city, where someone must have damaged it; the calculations it sent back were garbled and half complete. Still, it was able to send back proper scans and readings, including television broadcasts, and gave us time to learn more about your culture. Learning the indigenous language of this region wasn't easy, but we had certain devices and techniques to pick it up quickly. Heyt eventually completed the calculations, and we modified a module to have the power to send us there, as following his schematics. Right as the Threx were closing in on us, we began to make our escape. Most of us were killed, but six of us managed to teleport to Earth. Unfortunately, Gor had sustained a serious wound during the process, and he died upon arrival." "When we first met, Heyt told me that the Threx were coming to Earth. How would they know where you teleported to? And why do they care so much about finding you? Is it just a matter of pride?"

"No," replied Retix. "They want to find us because they need us, in a way. Like I said earlier, without our knowledge, almost all of the technology on our planet is useless to them for the time being. Of course, they could study it and learn to use it on their own, but that would take a very long time, and it's much easier if they simply force us to show them how everything works. Merrus' scans showed us as much. Unfortunately for us, the Threx managed to gain an edge... as I mentioned earlier, they captured one of us. A noble named Seht. He was tortured, and forced to serve them. We realized that his betrayal was a serious threat, as he could help them to find and capture us with ease, and so we eventually... assassinated him. I'd rather not talk about it. Regardless, before his demise, he revealed to the Threx rudimentary knowledge about our culture and technology. Luckily they can't teleport, but they can extract limited information from our modules. While we were teleporting to Earth, Heyt tried to make sure the module we used was as well encrypted as possible, but he knew that they had the ability to crack it within a few days. Apparently, he was designing a virus to wipe it clean after we had escaped, but he couldn't finish the coding in time. The Threx have our module, and though they can't teleport with it, they can still plainly see the coordinates of our destination. And that is how we knew that they would, in all likelihood, follow us."

Luke sat in silence, taking the time to process all of the information that he had just received. Eventually, he stood up, and said "I... can't help you." Retix looked up at Luke but said nothing, and he looked back at her as he continued. "This device you're building... it's pretty fucking obvious that it's the same one that you used to fuck up your homeworld. I mean, it is, isn't it?" Retix nodded. Luke narrowed his eyes, and said "I can't believe this. I'm sorry, but I just can't. After everything that happened to your planet, are you really going to let the same thing to Earth? Just... turn us into your slaves?" "It's not like that," said Retix. "We don't have a choice. Unless we can unite your world, the Threx are going to subjugate it." "Only because you led them here! You're making us pay for your mistakes." "'Pay for my mistakes'? I pay for my mistakes, every second of every day that I continue to live. I close my eyes, and I see the faces of each person that died because of my foolishness. I open my eyes, and I see a world that deserves infinitely more than I can offer it. I have done such horrible things that I ought to have died a thousand times over, and there is just one single glimmer of possible redemption that I see before me; I know it seems nonsensical, but I can spare your planet from the fate that befell mine. I can take something evil, like the device, and use it to accomplish something wonderful. You have to understand, by all indications, the Threx were expanding their reach at an alarming rate, and would have reached Earth in a few years whether we teleported here or not. But now, I can make the most of my past mistakes, and salvage some good from them. I can use this opportunity to save Earth from it's otherwise inevitable fate." "That's bullshit. You're going to save us by enslaving us? By destroying our minds?" "No. This time, we have more knowledge of the workings of the device. We have experience to draw from. We can design it so that it doesn't destroy the mind as quickly. We will unite the planet and fight the Threx, using Merrus' information to hit the weak points of their fleets, and then immediately free your people before any negative effects can take hold." "There are other ways to unite the world. You don't have to steal our free will." "We thought of that, but no other option could have possibly succeeded. By all of our information, your world is divided into factions that have spent years fighting each other, and convincing them to stop would take far more time than we have. Also, we have seen many of your television broadcasts, and we came to the conclusion that if we revealed ourselves to one or all of Earth's governments, we would end up being kidnapped and dissected. The only way to quickly unite the world is to use the device. We have to."

Though Luke was still angry and eager to disagree with Retix, he calmed down and took a moment to think. "You've made some questionable choices," said Luke, sitting back down on the bench, "and done some terrible things. But that's in the past. Right now, if those Threx assholes really are gunning it for our planet, then we're basically fucked. They'll catch all of the leaders of the world completely by surprise, and probably destroy our defenses before we can even flinch. But I would still rather die fighting a hopeless battle than live out the rest of my days as some soulless husk." Retix lowered her gaze and put her hands on her forehead. Though her moist eyes glistened under the scant moonlight, there were no more tears escaping them. "I have to do this. I don't have a choice." she said, although it was in a rather vacant manner, as if she was saying it to herself as much as she was saying it to Luke. He couldn't help but feel pity for her, despite everything that she and the others had done, and he felt his anger fade away. After thinking about it for some time, he came to realize that she had made what seemed to be a good point. The Threx were coming, and the only way to even have a chance at stopping them was to use the device. It still felt wrong to him, and thinking about it gave him a cold feeling. "I'll..." he began, before looking down, sighing, and continuing, "I'll help you." Retix looked up at him with a questioning glance. "You can't change what you've done in the past. I get that. And though using the same device that destroyed your world doesn't sit well with me... it's probably our only option. So I'll help you, but on one condition; that you only use the device for as long as necessary, and not for a moment more." "Of course," said Retix. "I never planned to keep it on for..." she started to say, before Luke cut her off by raising his hand. "I know," he said. "You didn't plan on keeping it on forever. But then again, you also didn't plan on leaving it on the first time around. Like you said, 'plans change'. And I just want you to know that if this plan changes, and you all try to take control of our planet for good, I will find a way to kill all of you." Retix took the threat rather well, and even smiled, though her eyes still expressed deep sorrow, replying "That sounds very reasonable."

Hello, my nonexistent audience! I haven't updated this in awhile, due to a terrible cycle of alternating between being busy and being lazy. To keep you all occupied, here's something I wrote back during Manowar Week. I was going to write entries while listening to Hail to England, before we all decided to just post plain old reviews in the Manowar Week thread. It's just a side story that happens in the time gap between the story so far in Blood and Diamonds, and the next chapter (which takes place days after the last entry).

I only wrote a single entry in the side story before the idea got shot down. It's pretty tiny, as I was going to update the side story daily in small pieces. I'll be sure to write more bite-sized expansions for it in the days to come, though. Keeping true to the music that originally inspired this side story, I'll be listening to 1980s heavy metal as I write more chapters for it.

So, without further introduction, here it is. And if you don't know who Sam is, then you should pay more attention! :laughing:

Side Story: Sam, Part One



Sam was unable to open her eyes, yet she could sense everything that was happening around her. She felt the sting of extreme pain constantly course through her body, the smell of metal and electrical fires invading her nostrils, and the sound of hammers and drills resonating heavily through her ears. Every now and then, the pain would be broken off by a cold and dull feeling that swept over her, and she would get a tingling sensation in her right arm and leg as if they had a terrible itch that she was unable to scratch. In time, she was able to regain control of her eyes, and she slowly opened them. She was completely unsure of what to expect; part of her found it fairly reasonable to assume that she was undergoing some sort of operation, but there was still a large part of her that couldn’t be dissuaded from believing that she had died back in that apartment. Stan always had said that her recklessness would get her killed some day. Nevertheless, she stared hard into the gloomy darkness in front of her, and turned her head around to scan her surroundings. While the room was very dimly lit and her vision was blurry, she eventually managed to make out a few figures nearby. They were moving around, working on some series of tasks as bright sparks flew through the air.

In time, one of the figures noticed that she had awakened, and approached her. Sam squinted hard at them as they drew near, and recognized them as one of the strange looking people who had bested her during her attempt to kill Luke. “Hello,” he said, picking up some kind of screwdriver and then leaning over her arm. Sam had a multitude of questions for him, however, in her current mental state, “Where am I?” was all that she could muster herself to ask. “You’re still in Luke’s apartment. You’ve been here ever since your ill-planned and ill-fated assassination attempt. Please, hold still…” he responded. She turned her head further to see just what he was doing beside her, and was understandably surprised at what she saw; everything below her right shoulder was now some sort of metal contraption, vaguely shaped liked a prosthetic, and the alien was tightening a few small screws. Sam was shocked for a moment, now remembering that her arm and leg had been destroyed before she had passed out. And upon looking down towards her feet, her suspicion that her leg had been replaced with machinery as well was confirmed.

Side Story: Sam, Part Two



It had been days since the Blue Shirts formed their alliance with the aliens, and both had gladly reaped the benefits. The Blue Shirts became proficient in the use of their new rifles, while the aliens used the gathered resources to further develop their machine, however their partnership was becoming somewhat strained. The Boss began to allocate more time to training than to gathering resources, desiring to go to war with the surrounding gangs as soon as possible, and the aliens suspected that he would eventually betray them once he had armed his whole gang and no longer needed them. Still, the aliens had little time to worry about such things, and they worked on without paying him much mind. In time, the device began to take shape, and they completed the first stage of it's growth; it was now operational, but could only corrupt those who were standing right beside it. Eventually, it would be able to control people at a distance, but the aliens currently lacked the special resources necessary to make it that powerful. Their solution to both of their problems (their distrust of The Boss, and their lack of special resources) was Sam.

"What the fuck?" asked Sam as she closed her eyes and let her head fall back down on the table. "I don't know how to respond to that," replied Tyl, continuing his work on her robotic arm. Retix walked over to the table, and put a hand on Tyl's shoulder. "If she's awake, then I'm assuming that your work is about finished?" she asked. Tyl glanced over at her and nodded, while Valk walked over to the table and scanned Sam's leg. "You guys sure this'll work?" asked Qez to the group as she continued her work on the other side of the room. Tyl replied "In all likelihood", while Valk simply shrugged. Retix looked down at Sam, and said "Well, welcome back to life. I hope you're appreciative of what we've accomplished, as it was far from easy. Merging the robotic appendages with your body, healing your burns... if Heyt hadn't studied human physiology, then we surely would have failed. Still, I'd say he did a fair job... you only died twice during the procedure." Sam was at a loss for words, and all she could do to satisfy her curiosity was to look around the room. Her eyes settled on Heyt as walked towards her. "I'd say it's about time that we gave it a proper test," he said to the group as he tilted his head towards the device in the center of the room. His words seemed to make the other aliens somewhat quiet and dejected, however they soon set about rolling the table that Sam was on towards the device. "I'm sorry," said Retix, as she lifted up Sam's hand and placed it on the device.

Side Story: Sam, Part Three



The aliens concluded their test on Sam, successfully corrupting her while she was beside the device, and they rolled the table away from it once they were satisfied with the results. While the aliens set about examining sets of data and re-calibrating the machine, Sam slowly snapped back to reality; at this point in time, the device's hold on her was fairly weak, and it couldn't grip her mind from a distance for very long. As she regained her senses, she felt an itchy and slightly painful sensation on the back of her neck, and she raised a hand to investigate it. Almost immediately, her fingers ran across what seemed to be a scar, causing the wound to sting slightly underneath her fingertips. Heyt noticed her curious probing, and said "You shouldn't touch that. We didn't have enough time to build it to be of much quality, and we certainly didn't have the means to test it beforehand. Theoretically, it should work just fine, but... well, if you tamper with it, you might accidentally corrupt it's behavioral perimeters, which would cause it to ceaselessly shoot pain signals throughout your body."

Sam quickly lowered her hand, and looked around at all of the aliens beside her, rediscovering the sense of shock that she had felt when she had first woken up. As her mind and instincts returned to her, she felt the urge to find a way out of this mysterious room. "Now," said Retix as she walked over to Sam, nursing a headache all the while, "it seems that we're just about done here. I'll bet that you have more questions than there are terrible shows on that horrid television that Qez insists on staring at, and I'll do my best to slay your confusion. Firstly, as you may have guessed, yes, we are aliens. And no, we aren't here to harm anyone. Secondly, the scar on the back of your neck is where we implanted a certain device, and it acts as a sort of fail-safe for us. Basically, if you ever try to harm any of us, it will overload your senses with pain. As long as you do what we ask of you, though, you should be fine..." Sam cut her off, rubbing an eye and stretching her sore neck to the side as she asked "'What we ask of you'? What exactly do you all want me to do?" "We simply need you to run some errands for us. It should be no problem for a skilled warrior such as yourself. You see, we're building a device that will allow us to save your world from being conquered by a fast approaching inter-galactic army, but there are certain necessary parts that may prove difficult for our current roster of allies to acquire. We would like you to acquire these parts." "And what happens to me if I tell you all to fuck off back to your homeworld?" replied Sam. "Then we start mercilessly inserting our anal probes," interjected Qez with a smile. Retix shot her a glance, and Qez looked down and returned to her work.

Retix looked back at Sam, and replied "If you turn us down, or even so much as think about betraying us, the device is set to activate. I'd rather not have to put you through that kind of pain. If, however, you decide to serve us willingly, and you do so with an exceptional level of skill, then we'll upgrade your appendages in our spare time to make you even more formidable." Sam looked at Retix in silence for a moment, assessing the situation, before standing up. Suddenly, Sam fell to the ground in a display pain, grabbing the back of her neck. Their gaze met again, and Retix shook her head while slightly raising her hands, asking "You were going to hit me, weren't you?" Sam started to get back to her feet, saying "Just making sure that you weren't bluffing. So, it looks like I really don't have much of a choice..." Retix shrugged, replying "I suppose you don't." Sam looked down and took a deep breath, a dull patina of helplessness taking the gloss of emotion from her expression. "I suppose this isn't all that different from my contract days. Alright. When do we get started?"

Side Story: Sam, Part Four



"Your first task will be a trial run of sorts, though it may prove to be somewhat difficult. However, though you'll usually have to hunt for the locations of our required resources yourself, we've already tracked down the exact location of this particular item, so in theory all you need to do is extract it without being caught," said Heyt. Sam had adapted relatively well to her current situation, although she still wore a melancholy expression. Sighing as she brushed back her hair, she curtly asked "What is it?" "A diamond with certain unique properties that would be an invaluable addition to our device. Here," he replied, handing her a piece of paper with writing scrawled across it. "This should help you. We've written down the address where it is located, as well as the name of the diamond and a description of it's physical attributes." Sam quickly snatched the piece of paper from Heyt and briefly scanned it. Almost immediately, she began to make her way towards the door. "Hold on," Heyt called after her, and she spun on her heels to face him. "The location of the diamond is a well known museum, and therefore it is probably very well protected. If you get caught trying to steal the diamond, and the authorities take you into custody, we may not be able to save you. We can't draw too much attention to ourselves until our plan reaches fruition, and we also simply don't have the time for heroic rescues. So if you fail, you're on your own, and we'll find some other way to get what we need." "Relax," replied Sam, "I'll be fine. I've done a heist or two back in the day." "I'm sure you will," replied Heyt, "but I just wanted to warn you of the dangers, so that you know what the stakes are, and to prevent you from doing anything rash. After all, it's not as though you can just walk into the museum, grab the diamond, and skip out the door with it."

"He skipped, huh?" asked Sam to the talkative security guard. "Yeah. He was practically clicking his heels as he left, with a big fuckin' grin on his face. Looked right at the security camera by the door, and just skipped away with a bag full of priceless artifacts. What a jackass." Apparently, the museum had been robbed the night before by an audacious thief, and Sam was lucky enough to have found a security guard with a big mouth. Sam didn't really expect him to give a random passerby this much information, figuring that she'd maybe get a few scant details from him, but he seemed to be quite lonely and eager for a conversation. "I thought this place was supposed to be pretty well funded. How did he just waltz past security like that?" asked Sam. The guard rolled his eyes and smiled briefly, replying "Yeah, we're well funded alright, but this place is about as secure as a fuckin' cookie jar. The new owner couldn't care less about security, figuring that nobody would have the guts to hit up a museum anyway, so he loosened everything up and fired almost all of the guards. Prick." Sam was about to ask him another question, when he became distracted by something behind her. "Goddamn it, not again! Excuse me," he said as he ran past her, heading towards someone who was giving their child a bath in one of the museum's ornate fountains. After resolving the situation, he returned to Sam, rolling his eyes and saying "Sorry about that. You wouldn't believe the shit that people pull here." "It's fine," replied Sam. "So, what do you know about the thief? Have the cops got any leads?" The guard shook his head, and replied "Nope. Nothing. Fucker got away clean."

Sam looked down and bit her lip, wondering how she would track the thief down and claim the diamond. Without any leads to follow, things were looking fairly bleak. "Oh, wait, there was one thing," said the guard as he scratched his back with the handle of his flashlight. "The thief was wearing a vest with some markings on the back. He even turned his back to the camera and pointed to it, as if he wanted us to see it. Cops think it might be a gang symbol or something." "Really? What did it look like?" "Uh... it was kinda like a skull wearing a headband." Sam looked down and thought for a moment, before smiling and asking "And this thief, did he have any piercings?" The guard shook his head, and replied "Nah. The feed is pretty fuzzy, but at one point he stuck his face right in one of the cameras and gave it a kiss, and I didn't see any piercings. Although, he did have a bunch of holes in his ears and nose, like he may have had some and decided to take them out, so who knows? Kids these days, tearing up their faces, robbing museums... I don't get it." Sam smiled and nodded, replying "Right. Anyway, thanks for the info. See you later." "Yeah, take care," he replied, before noticing someone putting their hands on a painting and running to stop them. Sam put her hands in her pockets and left the museum, with a good idea of where she might find the diamond.

Side Story: Sam, Part Five



Sam whistled along to a song that was stuck in her head as she walked towards her destination. She knew that the museum was located near the territories of two rival gangs, and that the symbol of one of those gangs, The Crazy Skulls, was on the thief's vest. However, the thief apparently drew a great deal of attention to the symbol, as if they wanted the police to see it on the security tapes. The Crazy Skull's rivals, the oddly named HE53, had a trademark penchant for piercings, which the thief obviously enjoyed though he had tried to hide that fact, and Sam was almost positive that they were setting up the Crazy Skulls for a fall. After walking down the street for a few minutes, she found herself at the hideout of the HE53, and two guards near the door looked her over. One of them leaned back against the building, while the other approached Sam. "Hey, girl," he said, throwing away his spent cigarette, "what're you doing out here? You lost?" Sam ignored him, and took a closer look at the hideout. The second guard was still back against the building, and he looked fairly cautious, as if he were ready to call for reinforcements at a moment's notice. In addition, Sam could see through a few windows with slightly parted blinds, and it was obvious that the hideout was full to capacity. In all likelihood, they were hunkered down and on the alert, making it seem quite likely that they were the thieves.

"You're a pretty little thing, but you're not very quick, are you? I asked you a question. What're you doing..." said the guard, who silenced after coming closer to Sam and getting a better look at her. "Damn," he said, looking at the scars across her face. The aliens had patched up her burn wounds quite well, but there were markings that they couldn't heal perfectly, and though from a distance Sam seemed fairly normal, up close she had a bit of a patchwork look to her. "What the fuck happened to you?" he asked. Sam rolled her eyes and took off the jacket she was wearing, revealing her metallic arm. With a single punch, she sent the guard into the air, crashing hard into the guard behind him. Just as the second guard regained his senses and started to get back to his feet, Sam kicked him with her robotic leg, and the door behind him exploded into a cloud of splinters as he fell backwards into the hideout. A gangster drinking a beer near the door took a step back and examined the scene with an expression of disbelief. Sam stepped through the doorway. "Hey," she said, nodding her head towards him.

The gangster grew ever more confused with the situation, as did all of the men scattered throughout the room behind him. As Sam started to walk towards him, he smashed his bottle of beer on the wall beside him and charged at her with the sharp remnants. Sam, beginning to understand just how strong she now was, decided to throw caution to the wind. Instead of avoiding his weapon, she shot a punch right at it. Her hand smashed through the jagged half of the bottle with ease, and continued to impact the hand behind it, breaking it with an audible crack. The guard stumbled backwards, and Sam finished him off with a heavy back-fist as more gangsters ran up to fight her. As the gang fell upon her, the scene quickly became a bloody mess; with a single punch, she managed to rip the jaw off of a gangster, as well as shatter the temple of the man beside him. Someone grabbed her from behind, and she shot out a kick to keep the gangsters in front of her at bay; needless to say, her leg tore through everyone within reach. She elbowed the man grabbing her, shattering his ribs, and pushed him away.

Someone to her side lashed out with a knife and cut her arm, and the massive amount of gangsters managed to slow her down by grabbing at her and hitting her with everything they had. However, Sam would not be defeated, and a sickening cloud of red followed every movement of her metallic appendages. She swung her robotic fist wildly, killing quite a few men in her direct vicinity, and knocking the others away. Grabbing a pool cue from the nearby billiard table, she impaled someone with it, and then, giving it a hard kick, she sent it clean through her victim and into the man behind him. At this point, the gangsters were certain that they had no chance against this demon of an enemy, and they began to run. Sam recognized a lieutenant among the scattering crowd, trying to escape, and decided to stop and interrogate him. Picking up a billiard ball, she threw it at him with her robotic arm before he could reach the door, and it shattered his leg.

Sam walked up to him and lifted him up off of the floor as the hideout became progressively scarce. "No, no... fuck!" he yelled. "Tell me where the museum haul is," she said quickly, in a calm voice. "What? We haven't hit up any museums in months..." he replied. Sam grabbed one of his facial piercings and ripped it out, causing him to scream. "Oh, come on. I know you guys hit up the museum, and I bet that if I search around in here long enough I'll find the stash anyway. So just tell me where it is, save me the trouble of having to dig through your hideout looking for it, and I won't turn your face into ground beef. Alright?" she said. The lieutenant started to gnash his teeth and sob from the pain of his wounds, and replied "I swear, we didn't hit up the museum. If we did, I'd just fucking tell you where the loot was. I'm not the seppuku type." "What? Seppuku?" asked Sam, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head, as she didn't know what the word meant. "Yeah," replied the lieutenant, "it's like back when the samurai used to kill themse-" Sam rolled her eyes, and interrupted him by ripping out another piercing. "I don't even care. Just spill," she said. The lieutenant scrunched his face and put a hand to his cheek, as blood poured across his fingers. Suddenly, he started to smile a little, and he said "I kinda already am," as he pointed to the blood spilling from his wounds. Sam stared blankly at him for a moment, before raising her hand to take out another piercing. "No, no, I was just joking, please don't," he said, and Sam relented. "Just talk already. I know for a fact that the thief was a member of your gang." The lieutenant shook his head, as if he was going to continue to display ignorance of the theft, but suddenly he stopped and narrowed his eyes. "Wait... we didn't hit up the museum. I mean, the gang didn't. But we did have a member that went rogue not too long ago. After we made a ceasefire with the Crazy Skulls, he didn't sit too well with the peace, and left the gang to keep on fighting them in his own way." "If you're lying to me..." replied Sam, but the lieutenant shook his head. "No, i'm dead serious! I swear! He's probably the fucker that you're looking for." Sam stopped and thought for a moment, setting the lieutenant back down on the ground, who winced as his damaged leg touched the floor. Sam sighed and shook her head. "Alright. You know where this guy hangs his head?"

We're nearing the end of this seven part short story! I hope you've all had fun with it so far, and I've definitely had a blast writing it. I kinda liked posting these small sections daily, as opposed to longer entries posted infrequently (like the massive wall of text that was Chapter Seventeen :laughing:). I'll probably stick to the core entries from here until the end of Blood and Diamonds, though I may do one or two more side stories, since it's pretty fun to mix things up by taking a break from disco to explore other music from the late '70s and the '80s, as well as giving a few characters some time in the spotlight.

Side Story: Sam, Part Six



"What the fuck?" yelled the Blue Shirt lieutenant as he quickly raised his gun. As the dust from the impact settled, a figure became visible as it sauntered through the large hole where the front door used to be. One of the Blue Shirts beside the lieutenant fired off a shot at the approaching silhouette, and it ricocheted harmlessly off of their arm, making a spark that brightly cut through the thick cloud of pulverized wood and drywall. "Hold it," said the lieutenant to the Blue Shirts beside him, squinting his eyes towards the mysterious interloper. The HE53 that they had been making a business transaction with was just as surprised at the interruption, brandishing a large pistol. In a short amount of time, the lieutenant recognized a familiar face before him, and he slightly lowered his gun. "Sam? What the hell is this?" he asked, raising his free arm and shaking his head, smiling at her overly dramatic entrance. "Oh, you know me. I never was much for subtlety," she responded, straightening the collar of her jacket with her organic arm. "You know this crazy bitch?" asked the HE53 to the lieutenant, who replied "Yeah. She's one of the baddest motherf-" He stopped as a thought crossed his mind, and his smile began to fade. "Wait. Didn't you... you know, die?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. Now standing right in front of the group, Sam brushed back her hair with her mechanical arm, revealing a robotic hand as her jacket's sleeve slid down. "Yeah. Twice, apparently," she replied.

The lieutenant's gaze drifted from Sam's hand up to the scars on her face. "What hap-" he began to ask, before she cut him off by saying "Crazy shit. I'll tell you later. Right now, I've got something that I need to take care of. You," she said, pointing at the HE53, "give me the diamond." The HE53 backed up, his gun still raised, and began to voice his objections, when the lieutenant raised his hand in reassurance and began to talk over him, saying to Sam "Now hold on. I don't know what this diamond shit is about, and I don't care. You can't just smash your way in here and start fucking things up for us. This is a business deal, and we were about to come to an agreement." Sam raised a hand and opened her mouth as if to argue the issue with him, but she decided against it, looking down while smiling and shrugging her shoulders. "You know what? I could probably sit here and talk this out with you, coming to some sort of peaceful agreement, but... I just hate wasting my time doing shit like that," she said, taking off her jacket and letting it fall to the floor. "Sam, don't do anything that y-" said the lieutenant, before he was interrupted by Sam's fist. As he fell to the ground, Sam quickly reached out and grabbed the barrel of the HE53's pistol, pushing it to the side just as it fired a bullet. At the same time, she used her robotic arm to backfist one of the Blue Shirts. She had tried to hold back some of her strength, as she didn't want to kill members of the gang that she still technically belonged to, however the impact still sent him backwards with a great deal of force. Both he and the Blue Shirt beside him fell to the floor in a heap. Sam quickly turned and kicked the HE53 in the ribs, though he managed to punch her in the jaw just before the impact. However, with the amount of action and adrenaline that this day had thus far provided her with, she hardly felt a thing.

Luckily for the HE53, Sam had kicked him with her organic leg, and he got back to his feet as she approached him. He threw a heavy punch at her, which she deflected with ease, and he then tried to follow up with an uppercut to the stomach. At the same time, Sam struck his nose with her palm, tightening her abdomen and absorbing his uppercut with relative ease. As the HE53 stumbled backwards, putting his hand to his nose, Sam rolled her eyes and said "Just tell me where it is, before you start losing limbs. You can keep the rest of the haul for all I care, I just want the diamond." The HE53 mustered the last of his courage, yelling "Fuck you!" as he shot a punch at her face. Sam, who was in a boxing stance, pointed an elbow towards him and pivoted slightly. As the HE53's punch connected hard with her elbow, he quickly fell to his knees in pain, nursing his fractured hand. Sam, who was clearly out of patience, ripped one of his arms from it's socket. "Where?" she asked sharply, as the HE53 began to scream. After writhing in pain for a moment, he managed to regain enough control over himself to say, between screams, "tr... trunk..." Sam looked around for a moment, before her eyes fell upon a large trunk stuffed beneath a bed in the corner. "Lovely," she said, walking towards it. Looking down, she remembered that she was still holding the HE53's arm, and was about to throw it away when she noticed that the Blue Shirt lieutenant was back on his feet, and pointing his gun towards her. "We need to have a talk," he said, wiping away the blood trailing from the corner of his mouth with his free hand.

It's time for the final entry in Sam's side story!

Side Story: Sam, Part Seven



Sam raised her hands, rolling her eyes and smiling slightly as she said "You got me. Let's talk." The lieutenant took a few steps toward her, still aiming his pistol at her head, saying "Why are you turning against us? And what the hell happened to you back in that apartment? Stan said you got killed, blasted to hell, but... I mean, he was obviously mistaken." "No, he was dead right. I did get blasted to hell. Why, don't I look it?" "Then... who patched you up? And, like I asked before, why the fuck are you attacking us?" "The aliens did this to me. They put me in my coffin, only to drag me back out of it. Now they've got me running errands for them, and i'm inclined to play by their rules for the time being," replied Sam. "The aliens?" asked the lieutenant incredulously, before letting out a faint laugh. "Should have figured they'd be behind all of this weird shit. Anyway, why are you helping them? Even if they saved you from dying, they're the ones who fucked you up in the first place." "I have my reasons," replied Sam. "I suppose the most obvious one is the device that they stuck in me, which shoots unbearable pain through my body if I disobey them."

The lieutenant shook his head, and replied "You don't need to worry about anything like that. It doesn't matter what kind of leverage they have against you. Those fuckers aren't going to be around much longer. Just come back to the hideout with me, alright? All you have to do is hold out there until we make our move, and you'll be free again." "What do you mean?" asked Sam. The lieutenant scratched his chin with his free hand, and replied "The Boss doesn't trust them. He's not sure what they're doing with all of the resources we've been grabbing for them, but he figures that it can't be good if they're keeping their motives a secret. They're probably planning on conquering the planet or some shit, you know? And besides, we don't need them anymore. They've given us a shit ton of guns, as well as shields and a bunch of other useful tech to sweeten the pot, and now we have enough to destroy every other gang in the city without breaking a sweat. So we're gonna take them out real soon, while we still have a cha-" Before he could finish, he was cut off by the HE53's dismembered arm hitting him square in his face. He had let his guard down while talking to Sam, and she threw it at him without hesitation. Sam closed the distance between them before the lieutenant could regain his senses, and grabbed his pistol with her mechanical hand just as he began to raise it up. The gun shattered as Sam squeezed her grip, and after punching the lieutenant in the jaw, she proceeded to lift him off of the floor by his lapel.

Sam struck the lieutenant a few more times, making sure that he was in no shape to hinder her any further, before loosening her grip and letting him fall to his knees. As she pulled the trunk from underneath the bed and opened it, the lieutenant tried to stand up, only to fall back to the ground with a moan. "Why?" he asked in a wavering voice. Sam pulled the diamond out of the trunk, and smiled. She flipped it in the air before placing it back in the trunk, which she closed and lifted off of the ground. On her way out the door, she briefly glanced at the lieutenant, replying "Like I said, I have my reasons." One of the Blue Shirts that she had knocked out earlier had gotten back to his feet, and he now stumbled towards her. With a single kick, she sent him flying backwards, crashing into the wall and sending a cloud of pulverized drywall into the air. She continued on her way, and once again began to whistle along to the song that was still stuck in her head.

On her way back to the aliens, Sam thought about what she should do with the information that she had gathered about the Blue Shirts' impending betrayal. Should she warn the aliens, or let them die? In truth, while Sam originally planned to find a way to kill the aliens herself and return to the Blue Shirts, she now found herself falling in love with her new powers. For personal reasons, she still felt at least a small amount of loyalty to the Blue Shirts, however she couldn't deny that she was utterly intrigued by the aliens' promise to upgrade her if she served them well. If this was just the first taste of the power that the aliens could offer her, what wonders might they provide her in the future, once she had proven herself to them and possibly even gained their trust? She had a long history with the Blue Shirts, and didn't want to side against the people who had essentially served as her foster family, however she eventually decided that she couldn't allow them to keep her from attaining the power that the future held in store for her. And so it was that Sam found herself allied with the aliens. At least, for now.

Now, back to the main story. Here's a fun and cheesy Hi-NRG song that will destroy you with the power of crazy bleached 1980s wigs!

Chapter Eighteen



Tensions had been mounting between the aliens and the Blue Shirts the past few days, and a conflict seemed inevitable. The aliens were correct in their assessment of the Blue Shirts, who broke their promise to focus on providing resources after receiving a large amount of guns. In somewhat of a retaliation, shortly after Retix's late night walk with Luke, the aliens forced the Blue Shirt lieutenants who were "guarding" them out of the apartment, and began rebuilding the assassin Sam to act as their agent. As the Blue Shirts provided less and less resources to their allies, and the aliens sent a bionic former Blue Shirt into the field, both sides expected a battle in the days to come. Of course, the Blue Shirts planned to take the offensive and wipe the aliens out as soon as possible, however, they were stripped of whatever level of surprise such an attack might have had after Sam learned of their plans. And yet, even though the aliens were now certain that the Blue Shirts were coming to kill them, they didn't appear to be worried in the slightest, and seemed to take few precautions to protect themselves. The majority of the aliens simply continued to work on the device, while Retix and Heyt began a small project on the side. Meanwhile, The Boss of the Blue Shirts was taking care of business as usual, unaware that his plans had been discovered by the aliens...

The Boss was sitting at his desk, filling a piece of paper with random notes and scribbles as he talked to a Blue Shirt lieutenant. "Anyway," spoke the lieutenant after taking a drag from his cigarette, "she fucked me over. Didn't even tell me he was mine until I forced the truth out of her. After that, I had to get him back. He's my son, you know? So I... well, I already told you 'bout that. Pretty messy, I know, but I had to do it. I didn't have a choice. I don't like to get my hands too dirty if I can help it, especially not after you've ordered us all to not draw attention to ourselves while we get ready to make our move, but after she called in that fuckin' bouncer boy toy of hers to take me out, I had to finish things off for good. And I did. Now, I've got a son, but... I mean, I have no way of taking care of him. I try, but an old gangster like me can only do so much. Also, breast milk is expensive as fuck." The Boss raised a hand, and replied "It's fine. Admittedly, this isn't the most common problem that I have to deal with... usually, gangsters are more concerned with getting away from their children rather than taking care of them. But it does happen from time to time, and we have a method for dealing with such issues. In fact, I personally had to deal with this same problem myself, some time ago." "What do you mean? You have children?" asked the lieutenant, who was a little taken aback by the notion of The Boss having a family. The Boss smiled, and replied "Just one child. A son." The lieutenant laughed and tilted his head to the side, saying "Well, congrats. Here's hoping he grows up to be a badass. Who knows, he might even take over for you some day, right?" The Boss looked down, before continuing. "Anyway," he said, "there's a certain building near the edge of our territory. It's a brothel. I have an arrangement with the owner; the women there take care of the children that I send to them, in exchange for protection. They're taken well care of, and, obviously, they're kept far away from the building's business transactions, so you needn't worry about that." "A brothel? You're joking, right?" asked the lieutenant. The Boss smiled, and replied "Don't worry. They take very good care of their charges. It's not quite the roach motel you're probably imagining. In reality, it's a place that is kept fairly well hidden from the public, as well as other gangs, catering almost exclusively to high profile clients who desire quality as well as discretion. You have nothing to worry about." "Well, if you say so," replied the lieutenant, putting out his cigarette on the nearby ashtray, "but I have some questions. How long would they be willing to take care of him, and how often could I see him while he's in their care?"

Just then, the door to the office opened, and a man quickly entered. It was a Blue Shirt lieutenant, and he was covered with injuries. "What the fuck?" asked the lieutenant who was sitting down. The wounded lieutenant ignored him, and stammered "Boss... Sam is alive, and she's working with the aliens. They've done something to her, made her insanely strong, and now she doesn't give two fucks about us. She crashed the deal we were making with the rogue HE53, and completely wrecked everything..." The Boss raised a hand and gestured for him to stop, saying "Relax. I already know that Sam is alive once again. After the aliens kicked my lieutenants out, I made sure to have eyes on them at all times. This morning, when Sam left their apartment, my scout informed me. Still, while I was curious as to why and how they revived her, I didn't expect her to betray me, after all that I and the Blue Shirts have done for her. Are you sure that she's no longer loyal to us?" The lieutenant nodded. The Boss looked at him intently and asked "You're completely certain?", to which the lieutenant nodded once again, saying "Positive. She's the one who kicked the shit out of me. She said they stuck some device in her to keep her on their side, but... it seems like that's not the only reason she's fighting for them. I get the feeling that even if she didn't have the device in her, she'd still be on their side." The Boss sat down in his chair, and cleared his nose. "That's a shame. I expected so much more from Sam, though she always was a bit unpredictable. I suppose her usefulness was going to come to an end eventually. Anyway, it would now seem that the aliens are determined to make the first move. I suspected that they might turn on us, but I didn't expect them to do it so soon. Regardless, I was planning on removing them anyway, as you well know, so I suppose that the only real difference is that I now have violent provocation to add to my list of motives." "No," replied the injured lieutenant, "you can't attack them. They know you're coming. I told Sam about our plans to kill the aliens, before she turned on me. They're probably waiting to ambush you." The Boss picked up a pencil and started to twirl it in his fingers, saying "Well, that doesn't necessarily change things. We still have to attack the aliens, before they have the chance to attack us. But... you're right. They were already distrustful of us before, and now that they know for certain that we're coming to kill them, who knows what kind of nasty surprises we'll find waiting for us in that apartment? They probably expect us to come charging in like a bunch of fools, begging to be slaughtered, but I won't oblige them. We'll wait, until the proper moment comes."

"Fuck that," said the lieutenant who was sitting down. "We can't just sit on our asses and wait for them to hit us first. It doesn't matter what kind of toys they have up in that apartment. All we need is one of Leroy's bombs. Put it outside the door, set it, walk away, and boom, no more aliens." The injured lieutenant shook his head, saying "Oh, come on. A fucking bomb, man? When the time comes to make our move, I say we just gather up a warparty and take care of things the old fashioned way. I mean, we've got way more manpower than they do, and we even have those fancy alien rifles, which i'm sure are more than capable of blasting those fuckers to pieces." The Boss rubbed his forehead, and said "No. A bomb would cause too much collateral damage, and would attract far too much attention to our territory. We'd have the cops and the media focused on our territory and activity. I've also already stationed men at the borders, ordering them to hit the neighboring gangs when I've given the signal. We've waited for this moment for far too long, and i'm not about to stay on the down low for a month because I couldn't solve a problem without blowing it up. We need to hit the other gangs hard, taking them out as quickly as possible, and restoring order in our newly expanded borders before the cops have a chance to put the pieces together, so naturally I can't have them watching us in the meantime." "What about my plan? We could use the aliens' own weapons against them," said the injured lieutenant. The Boss put a hand to his chin and thought for a moment, before replying "Maybe. Our numbers are our greatest advantage, and these new weapons would give us a huge edge. It just seems too easy, though. The aliens are incredibly intelligent, as well as very distrustful of us. Would they really be so foolish as to hand us the means to kill them without being prepared for us? They must have something planned, and i'm not about to let them outsmart me... No, I think I'll bide my time. For now, I'll send more scouts to keep tabs on them. And it's not going to be enough to have just one or two men watching the front door; I need someone to finally be able to see what's going on in that apartment. After I know what they're doing, then I'll make my move."

Hey, everyone! Welcome back to "Disco and Walls of Text Hell"! The song this time around is the Disco version of The Modettes' White Mice, the aptly named White Mouse Disco. Apparently, there were a bunch of songs back then that got the club treatment after gaining some momentum. In this case, White Mice was a good Post Punk/Dance Punk hit for The Modettes when it was released as a single in 1979, and the Disco version was created for their 1980 album The Story so Far.

Chapter Nineteen



The Boss' scouts watched Luke's apartment intently, waiting for a chance to see what was going on inside. However, the only time that they ever truly saw anything was when the aliens wanted them to; from time to time, the curtains would be drawn back, and the spies would see the aliens simply lounging about in front of a beat up television. They reported their meager findings back to the Boss, who firmly believed that the aliens had already taken precautions against him, and were now simply waiting for him to blindly rush in. In time, the curtains were closed once again, and this time they stayed shut. After a few days had passed, the Boss decided that he could wait no longer to carry out his plans. As a precaution, he placed a somewhat large unit of soldiers near Luke's apartment, ordering them to contact him and then confront the aliens if they ever tried to leave the apartment, hopefully killing them (or, at the very least, slowing the aliens down until a few war parties could arrive). In this way, he hoped to prevent them from attacking the Blue Shirts without forewarning. The only one who continued to come and go as they pleased was the irascible assassin Sam, who continued to set off on missions to gather resources for the aliens. She remained undetected, thanks to the stealth system that the aliens had installed in her. It was the first upgrade that she had been granted for her services, and it rendered her almost completely invisible.

The Boss eventually gave the signal to the soldiers he had placed along the edge of his territory, and the war began. They knew exactly where to strike, and used their weapons to demolish the key locations of their rivals. In a matter of minutes, the hideouts of every neighboring gang had been blasted to pieces, as the Blue Shirts' set their rifles to the maximum power output, an alteration that made them more like rocket launchers than rifles. For example, if a rifle with these settings had been used by the aliens to defeat Sam, the whole apartment would have been destroyed in an instant. The only downside of overcharging a rifle was that it drained it of it's energy, preventing it from being fired while it recharged. Of course, the first target in a contested territory was almost always the leader, and most were killed without having so much as a chance to fight back. The Boss had earlier placed many spies throughout the territories surrounding his gang, and he used their intel to know exactly where each leader would be. Not including the leader of the Red Sleeves, only two leaders managed to survive, having been ready for the Blue Shirts' attack before it began. The first was Francesca Leone, the leader of a gang called the Tulpas (an odd name which many assumed she had picked at random). She had been suspicious of the Blue Shirts for some time, and, for personal reasons, greatly desired to see them destroyed by her own hands. Years before, her gang was very small, and the Blue Shirts completely ignored her, not considering her to be much of a threat. Her father had been the ruler of a much larger gang that had been destroyed years before, and his territory had been divided amongst the surroundings gangs, as well as a group of lieutenants that had betrayed him. Francesca was in Italy at the time, pursuing an education abroad. After she heard what had happened, she returned to the city with a close knit group of friends and set about claiming vengeance on her father's traitorous lieutenants. In a matter of days, her fledgling force had assassinated all of them, and vengeance was claimed. From there, she turned her attention to establishing a territory of her own, from which she could reclaim the land that had been under her father's control.

She and her lieutenants set about reconquering the entirety of her father's territory from the gangs that had taken it for themselves, surviving countless battles against impossible odds as the much larger gangs refused to let go of their new holdings. The Blue Shirts finally began to take her seriously after her forces utterly destroyed one of their raiding parties, and the Boss attempted to place a spy in Francesca's midst. The spy was tactful, however he made a few mistakes that revealed his true nature, and the lieutenants of the Tulpas were eager to execute him. However, Francesca stepped in and ordered them to leave him be. In her mind, this was a golden opportunity. Now that they knew he was a spy, they could feed him misinformation, with the spy being none the wiser. The only problem was that after giving his leader too much false information, the spy would eventually realize that he was being used, and so Francesca decided to keep him mostly in the dark until she could use him to gain an edge at a decisive moment. She let him discover little bits of information every now and then, to keep him and his leader complacent.

In time, the leader of the Red Sleeves sent out a warning to his allies, telling them that one of his lieutenants had witnessed the Blue Shirts making a deal with a gang from out of town. Years earlier, Francesca had placed a spy of her own within the ranks of the Blue Shirts, and he confirmed the story. He had proven his loyalty many times to the Blue Shirts over the years, causing them to trust him immensely, and so he was eventually informed of the Boss' plan to conquer the surrounding area. It was in this way that Francesca learned of the Blue Shirts' impending attack, and she took steps to defend herself. She set up a series of ambushes throughout her territory, and used the Blue Shirt spy to create a large trap. As soon as her spy sent word that the Boss had given the signal to attack, Francesca and a group of lieutenants announced that they would be taking care of important business at one of her warehouses. The nearby Blue Shirt spy thought that this was fantastic luck, as it meant that she would be isolated from the majority of her gang, making her very easy to kill. He followed her and her cadre to the warehouse, and then ran off to report her location to the invading forces. Of course, the Blue Shirt lieutenants leading the attack were eager to take her out, and so a large force was sent to the warehouse to kill her. Shortly after they arrived, they surrounded the warehouse and began to search for her, while Francesca and her lieutenants watched them from afar. After finding the warehouse to be empty, they decided to simply destroy it from afar and move on. Just then, Francesca detonated a series of bombs placed around and within the warehouse, instantly killing the majority of the Blue Shirts below her.

Meanwhile, her men enacted ambushes throughout her territory, taking the Blue Shirts by surprise. Still, the Blue Shirts' weapons and numbers gave them a serious edge against the Tulpas, and the losses on both sides were great. Francesca detested the sight of her men being killed, however she remained rather optimistic about the situation; though many of her men would die, she had made a battle out of what would have been a slaughter, and that was comfort enough for her. After mounting as much of a defense as possible, she and the rest of the surviving Tulpas fell back, meeting with the Red Sleeves and combining forces.

The second leader to survive the onslaught was Hojo Naomasa. Naomasa was a strange man, often pursuing unorthodox hobbies and exhibiting a very carefree personality, however he had the scars to prove that he was very serious about maintaining his territory. He once belonged to an international syndicate of organized crime, with his forces simply being the city's local division, however he eventually broke off from them, forming an independent gang named "The Hojo". The reason for his leaving the syndicate was simple; he had supported the wrong side in the war of succession that followed the death of the syndicate's leader, and was no longer counted among their ranks. The syndicate was going to attack him, just as they were going to crack down on every leader who supported the losing side in any way, however they soon became very occupied after a rival syndicate attacked them, expecting their war torn forces to not be able to put up much of a fight. They didn't want to start a war on two fronts, and so they granted amnesty to all of the leaders that were in Naomasa's position, accepting many of them back into the fold in an attempt to build up as much manpower as possible. Naomasa accepted the amnesty, but refused to rejoin their forces, and they were far too busy to force him to come back.

Like many leaders, Naomasa was suspicious of the aggressive Blue Shirts, and he had suspected that they would eventually attack his territory. He was on good terms with both the Red Sleeves and the Tulpas, and so he was likewise able to put up a fight. When Francesca's spy tipped her off that the Blue Shirts had been given the signal to attack, she warned her allies of the impending danger, and Naomasa set about attacking the invaders. Of course, the Blue Shirts had planted a spy in his forces not long ago, however Naomasa had discovered his treachery within weeks of his arrival. After his plans were foiled multiple times by the Blue Shirts, Naomasa spent the next few weeks closely watching his men, purposefully giving out information to rotating groups of soldiers, using the process of elimination to find the traitor. Sadly, though he had thought of feeding him misinformation, he had discovered the spy just before the upcoming battle, before he could come up with any serious plans to manipulate him. When Francesca warned him of the coming attack, Naomasa decided to simply execute the spy, and fall back on an old plan that he had set up quite some time ago, one that had been kept secret from everyone save for his most trusted lieutenants. First, he ordered his gang to fall back to a number of key locations that an invading force was bound to attack. Then, his lieutenants withdrew boxes of gas masks that had been stashed in these locations, as well as canisters of a powerful gas. The lieutenants then distributed masks to all of the soldiers, and prepared them for the upcoming battle. When the Blue Shirts arrived, the Hojo immediately covered the areas in thick clouds of fumes, which seemed to make the attackers very disoriented. As they blindly stumbled around, occasionally firing potshots around them, the masked Hojo were able to defeat them with ease. However, while the plan was a success, it was intended to be a shock tactic to quickly take out a large number of enemies, and wasn't suited to winning a drawn out fight; while the Blue Shirts were initially confused and suffered many losses, they quickly learned to steer clear from the clouds, which were eventually dispersed by the wind as the supply of canisters ran out. Thus, as soon as the clouds began to fade, the lieutenants ordered their men to fall back to a predetermined location. After the Hojo war parties regrouped with each other, Naomasa led them into the territory of the Red Sleeves, meeting up with Francesca's forces along the way.

If the three gangs had stayed in their respective territories, despite their tenacity and the ploys used against the armies sent after them, each one would have been unable to truly put up a fight against the massive numbers of the entire Blue Shirt force. However, by coming together and fighting alongside each other, they managed to mount a serious defense against the Blue Shirts. Even though they still wouldn't be able to last for very long, they now at least had the chance to postpone their defeat for as long as possible, dealing some true damage to the Blue Shirts before meeting their inevitable fate. They held their ground for the immediate future, however it seemed that victory was truly impossible to achieve; the Blue Shirts quickly demolished every other gang in the borough, making the Red Sleeves' territory the only contested area that had yet to be conquered, and Blue Shirt reinforcements poured in ceaselessly. Against the full force of the Blue Shirts, the alliance was eventually defeated, and the survivors retreated from the territory, having lost too many soldiers to be able to combat the Blue Shirts any further. In a single day, the Blue Shirts had defeated every gang except for the three holdout allies, and even they weren't able to survive for much longer than that. The Boss was overjoyed at his successful campaign, however he didn't have much time to revel in his victory; though he had conquered the borough, his territory was now very large and war torn. The Blue Shirts had become the strongest gang in the city, however the Boss needed to consolidate his current holdings before he could expand any further, which became quite apparent after multiple nearby gangs from other boroughs started to preemptively attack him. For now, the Boss put away his ambitions to conquer the city, and focused on strengthening what he already had, using his powerful technology to combat any would-be raiders. Beyond that, the Blue Shirts had done a lot of damage to the city in the war, and the police and media were now watching the borough very closely, just as the Boss had suspected they would. Still, he found himself desiring one last battle before going low profile and strengthening his gang's borders, avoiding attention until the time came to conquer more territory. As long as he planned his next steps carefully, the police, the media, the remnants of the three allied forces, and the neighboring gangs that were raiding his territory, could all be dealt with. There was now only one group left that could stop him; the aliens, with their mysterious machinations. They were a wildcard that needed to be removed as soon as possible.

Chapter Twenty



Cleo was sitting on a chair by a desk, running a hand across her forehead in frustration, one leg resting on the desk and the other curled towards her. In front of her was a blank notebook. A friend gave it to her as a gift a few years ago, and since then she had felt a terrible inclination to fill it with something. Unfortunately, she could never quite decide where to begin, or even what her story should be about; all she knew was that she wanted to write something, something grand and memorable (or, at the very least, fun). Eventually, she stood up and tossed her pen across the room, tortured by the frustration that comes from being inspired and unable to express it. Normally, she didn't like to let her anger take control of her, but she found the stress of writer's block to be unbearable, and the events that had happened recently only added to her annoyance; she knew that the world was going to come to an end soon, and that this was one of her final chances to write her magnum opus. It seemed somewhat foolish, since it's not like she'd ever get the chance to publish it and show it to the world, seeing as the world was likely soon to become brainwashed and conquered. Yet she felt compelled to finish it anyway, not for the world, but for her. So she could finally have created something worth creating. Cleo walked over to her window and looked down at the street below, nervously rubbing the copper bangle around her wrist, thinking about what she and John had witnessed the night that they followed Luke and Retix. Unfortunately, they didn't get to hear the entire conversation; they had to keep their distance, staying on a nearby path so as to avoid stepping on the multitude of branches and leaves between them and the two they were eavesdropping on, and they were interrupted a few times by the occasional late night park walker. In the end, the parts that they did overhear were more than enough for them to be convinced that troubling times were ahead; they heard most of Retix explaining her background and motives, as well as her describing the history and function of the 'device' that they were building, and how the aliens were going to use it to brainwash the world, just as they had tragically used it on their own home planet. They also overheard most of what she had said about the Threx, how they were coming to conquer Earth, and also that wearing copper was a way to protect oneself from the aliens' mind enslaving machine.

The two were unsure of how to proceed after gathering such information, and after Luke and Retix left, John and Cleo stood there in silence. Eventually, Cleo scratched her head and asked "So, John, those people from 'out of town' that you wanted to spy on... they're aliens? Fucking aliens, man?" "Yeah," replied John in a dry voice. Cleo looked up, smiling as she shook her head and raised up her hands, saying "And you didn't think that maybe you should tell me about that shit?" "Sorry. Look, I had my suspicions, but I wasn't really sure that they were aliens until tonight. I mean, if I'd told you back at that club that I thought they might be from another planet, you probably would have thought I was going insane, so... I kept it to myself until I was positive." "Alright. I get it. So, now that we know for sure who they are and what they're up to... what do you think we should do?" she asked. John rubbed his chin and shook his head, before shrugging and replying "I don't know. What can we do?" Cleo looked down in thought, before saying "There's got to be something. I mean, yeah, our options are slim. Nobody would ever believe us if we tried to warn them, and with the kind of firepower the aliens are packing, I don't think we have much of a chance. But we're the only ones who can stop them. We have to try." "Should we really be trying to stop them?" asked John. Cleo shot him a confused glance, and replied "What?" John brushed back his hair, saying "I mean, what makes you so sure that we shouldn't be on their side?" Cleo shook her head, saying "You can't be fucking serious." John replied "No, i'm pretty fucking sure that i'm serious. There's a huge army of interstellar badasses headed right for us, dead set on utterly destroying everything that we've ever even slightly given a shit about, and the aliens are the only ones who can stop them. The world can't even begin to fight the Threx unless the device is activated, and everyone stands together. It's our only hope." "Maybe," said Cleo, "but what's the price going to be? We all get turned into mindless slaves? Are you really willing to throw away everything that distinguishes you from a fucking robot?"

John shook his head, and replied "They won't enslave us. They learned from their past mistakes, and they won't let our planet share the same fate that theirs did. The alien promised Luke that they'd turn the device off as soon as the war was over." Cleo rolled her eyes, and said "And you really expect them to keep that promise? Even if they do hold true to their word, what then? Do you really think everyone is going to wake up after, look around the war torn world around them, and just accept what happened? That they won't be angry and confused about everything? And even if they do react well to the changes, and they don't blame the aliens or anyone else for everything and start a bunch of riots in our newly chaotic world... then how long? How long until the aliens inevitably get tired of our typical human bullshit? How long until they, or someone else, can no longer resist the nagging temptation to activate the device, and make all of humanity's bothersome flaws and problems just disappear? I'm sorry, but... no. That's not me. That'll never be me. Nobody should ever have that kind of power, even if rejecting it means that we all end up dying horribly. If that's your plan, then we're going to have to part ways. I'm not gonna let myself get turned into a fucking zombie, just because I was too afraid to fight against the odds on my own terms." After Cleo said that, John looked down at the ground and became silent. Cleo was getting heated up by the conversation, but she calmed down as she looked to the side and then down at her feet. After sighing, she took a step towards John and stuck out a hand towards him. "You with me?" John looked up at her, noticing the slight smile on her face, and he couldn't help but smile himself. He looked down again, before finally shaking her hand. "Yeah. You're right," he said. Cleo tilted her head, and replied "As usual." "It's just..." John started, before sighing and continuing, "Stopping them is gonna be next to impossible. I mean, where do we even start?" Cleo smiled, and replied "Don't worry about it, sidekick. We'll find a way." After thinking for a moment, she continued "I suppose, for starters, we ought to go buy a shit ton of copper. Then, we can try to warn the Red Sleeves one more time. Most of them won't believe us, but a few will probably help us out, like Ricardo and Jackson." "And after that?" asked John. Cleo replied, "After that, we do what we can with the time that we have, and wait for an opportunity to convince everyone and plan our attack."

And recently, their opportunity had arrived; after the Blue Shirts attacked every gang in the surrounding area using alien rifles and shields, the Red Sleeves finally came to believe that John and Cleo were telling the truth. Of course, some of them still didn't believe that aliens were to blame, figuring that the rifles and shields were simply secret military tech that was leaked and sold to the Blue Shirts, yet they had seen first hand the kind of destruction that the Blue Shirts were now capable of, and were cautious enough of the possibilities to humor John and Cleo. Having stockpiled as many copper items as they could find in the days prior to the attack, John and Cleo distributed them amongst the surviving Red Sleeves, as well as many of the Tulpa and Hojo. For Cleo and John, it was now a matter of waiting; the allied gangs were hiding in a series of abandoned warehouses by the docks, training for the day that they would claim their revenge against the Blue Shirts, and also preparing for the possibility of the aliens using the device that Cleo and John insisted was real. Truly, it was a strange time to be a gangster. Cleo walked away from the window and headed for the door. She had taken long enough of a break from the action, and she knew that she wasn't going to be writing her story anytime soon. Still, as she walked across the room and prepared to head back to the abandoned warehouses, she couldn't help but once again feel inspiration rising inside of her, pressuring her to finally create a story worth reading, or at least worth writing. She quickly grabbed the notebook and the pen, taking them with her, hoping that she'd be ready when the time finally came that she could begin to write her story.

Chapter Twenty One



Continuing to carry out the will of the aliens, Sam grew ever bolder with each upgrade that was bestowed upon her. Eventually, she was given another mission that put her in close proximity with the Blue Shirts, and she showed even less restraint than she had before; while searching for barrels of a certain chemical in a series of warehouses, she stumbled upon a narcotics deal, and decided to simply kill everyone in her way. When the dust had settled, she had slain two Blue Shirt lieutenants and seven soldiers, as well as a well-dressed man named Malcolm, who had been an invaluable asset to the expansion of the Blue Shirts' narcotics operations. This slaughter greatly increased Sam's reputation among the Blue Shirts, who had become fearful of the seemingly invincible (as well as invisible) assassin, and many were disappointed in the Boss, who seemed to be either unable or unwilling to fight her and the aliens. Of course, it wasn't long before the Boss himself heard of the spreading whispers of his impotency, and he was forced to kill a few of the more talkative of his men to strike fear through the ranks. He couldn't ignore the damage that Sam had done to his reputation, and he needed to claim vengeance for her massacre if he was indeed to save face. As he sat in his office, scribbling down random shapes and notes on a piece of paper to help him concentrate, he decided that he could wait no longer to dispose of his enemies.

"They deliberately opened those curtains, letting my scouts watch them as they sat around and relaxed," the Boss thought to himself. "They're too intelligent to have done it by accident. At first, I thought that they wanted me to see them lounging about so that I would think they were unprepared, and rush in blindly. But if they're truly as intelligent as I believe they are, could they really have expected such a simple ruse to work? Were they really trying to goad me into attacking them so that I would fall into an ambush, or were they actually trying to do the opposite? What if they know me and how I think, and they expected me to do exactly what I ended up doing, keeping me from attacking by showing me something that they knew would make me cautious? There are only two possible options... they either used a simple trick that I saw through, or they're currently using a brilliant trick that I completely fell for... and I really do believe that they're too clever to have done the former. In that case, the only reason they could have for using trickery to keep me away is that they're afraid of my soldiers and I, and they wouldn't be afraid of us if they weren't vulnerable. It's very likely that they never had any precautions set up to begin with, relying almost solely on manipulation to keep me away... and yet, they must have done something to protect themselves. There's no way that they could have believed that their trickery would hold me off forever. It can't be as simple as a booby trap in the apartment. That might kill a few men in the beginning of the battle, but the rest of my massive army would eventually overpower them. It must be something big, something involving all of my men, something..." he stopped for a moment, and his gaze turned towards an alien rifle that he had set down on his desk. "Is that it?" he thought. "Could they have rigged the guns and shields before sending them to us? By doing that, as soon as we attack them, they could do any number of things to us... perhaps the guns would explode, backfire, or maybe simply lock up and refuse to operate?"

After tossing the matter around in his head for a moment, he came to believe that he had finally seen through their deception, and settled on a plan of attack. First, deciding that he ought to handle this in at least somewhat of a low key fashion as the police and the media were focused on his territory and watching him carefully, he had every apartment in the complex (save for Luke's, of course) evacuated. This was actually very easily accomplished; the Boss sent a few of his more silver-tongued lieutenants to the apartment disguised as inspectors and police officers, and had them convince the landlord that many of the apartments were constructed using hazardous materials. The lieutenants then personally saw to it that the building was emptied, and that no civilians would witness the event or get caught in the crossfire. That being taken care of, the Boss then sent a large war party into the building, wearing plain clothes, yellow safety helmets, and hospital masks, rather than their gang colors, and hiding their weapons in boxes. Somewhat unfortunately, the landlord had contacted the city government to confirm that the building was found to have contained hazardous materials, and they had no knowledge of the incident. A real inspector was sent to the building, but the Blue Shirts took care of him rather easily, simply bribing him. The Blue Shirts retrieved their weapons from the boxes, using regular firearms with silencers instead of the gang's high-powered alien rifles, just as the Boss had ordered.

"They're here," said Heyt as he looked at the screen of a monitor. It was connected to a series of cameras that the aliens had created days before, and Luke had placed them throughout the complex. The feed showed the activity of the Blue Shirts as they tried to quickly and quietly evacuate the building, preparing to attack. Retix nodded, before turning towards Sam and asking "Are you ready?" Sam shrugged as she pushed herself away from the wall she had been leaning on, replying "Sure." Heyt glanced towards her and asked "And you're certain that you remember what you need to do?" Sam rolled her eyes, retrieving a metallic orb from her pocket and tossing it up and down as she said "Yeah, I remember. Get into position and activate this thing." "Right," said Retix, "that's the gist of it. Now, you'd better get going." After Sam had left, Retix turned to Luke and handed him a copper circlet, saying "Take this. It belonged to Gor, the alien who died as we were teleporting to your world." Luke looked at her, and asked "Aren't you going to enslave me, like everyone else?" Retix shook her head, and replied "Not a chance. You've proven yourself to be a true friend, and you're the only one that we can trust. Besides, if you don't keep your free will, how are you going to kill us if we misuse the device?" Luke smiled and took the circlet from her, placing it on his head.

The stage was now set. The Blue Shirts were to enter Luke's apartment, kill everything inside of it, clean up all traces of the battle, and then depart. Normally, the Blue Shirt soldiers weren't used to taking missions like this, using silencers and cleaning up the mess afterwards, so the Boss sent the assassin Stan to guide them and lead the attack. He lead the soldiers towards Luke's door, and set down his gun as he began to silently pick the lock.

"Do it," said Heyt. Valk nodded, and activated the device. Using the resources that Sam had brought them, as well as correcting the flaws that they discovered in the test results that they had gathered after using it on her, the device had grown much more powerful since it had last been activated. Now, it's range was large enough to seize control of every Blue Shirt in the building, and they became servile just as the apartment's door swung open. Retix and Heyt quickly set about examining a series of consoles, typing furiously and retrieving data. In a short amount of time, they were able to use the monitors to instill commands in the Blue Shirts, who stood in the hallway with vacant expressions. Retix glanced up at the Blue Shirts for a moment, before quickly looking back down at her work. "Would the leader of this attack kindly step forward?" she asked. Stan almost immediately reacted, entering the apartment. "Would you do me a favor? Call your boss, and give him a message. Tell him that the aliens were simply unprepared for the attack, and that you managed to kill them, as well as Luke and Sam, suffering only minimal casualties." "It will be done," replied Stan, who used Luke's telephone to make the call.

The Boss slowly set down his phone and leaned back in his chair, letting out a sigh of relief. "That's it," he said, as his smile widened. Stan had just informed him of the success of the mission, and he was now elated. He had outsmarted and killed the very last of his true enemies, the only ones who stood to upset his future plans, and now the conquest of the entire city was simply a matter of time.

"Is everything connected?" asked Retix. The device and the monitors, as well as Luke and the aliens, now had small nodes attached to them, and Tyl gave Retix a thumbs up as he finished his calibrations. Qez yelled "I'm done over here," as she finished running a cable from the device to the main monitor, and Heyt said "Ready," as he finished typing out a line of code. "Of course," he added, "the room might be too small for everything. I'll set up a security box, and arrange for a material push after the calculations come in."

As the Boss lit a cigar and placed it in his mouth, he couldn't help but feel a small amount of regret. He had known both Luke and Sam for many years, and it pained him slightly to have killed the two of them. Sam in particular could have proven to be a very valuable asset, if she had only used her new found powers to assist the Blue Shirts and betray the aliens. Just then, he heard noises coming from outside the door of his office. As he approached it, the door swung open, and he could clearly see that his two guards had been defeated and were now lying on the floor. The Boss pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the doorway, expecting an assassin to rush in at any moment, however nothing seemed to happen. Sweat dripped down his face as he stood there, waiting for the onslaught. All of a sudden, his pistol was knocked out of his hands, and he was sent falling backwards as something struck his chest. As he looked up in confusion, Sam deactivated her cloaking device, and smiled down at him as she fiddled with the metallic sphere in her hands. "Hey, boss," she said, before twisting the sphere and pressing a few buttons on it.

The sphere emitted a wave of light, as if scanning the environment, and the particles of the beams seemed to penetrate and pass through everything nearby. The sphere was now hovering in midair, and Sam ran out of the room as quickly as she could. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash in the office, followed by a wave of energy that caused the room to shake. The Boss felt a strong force pushing him away from the sphere, and looking around him he saw that the walls, along with the furniture, seemed to be affected by the force as well. His desk and chair flew away from the sphere, and large sections of the walls broke off in rectangles and were pushed backwards. This chaos continued for a few more seconds before finally coming to an end, and the sphere fell harmlessly to the floor. The Boss looked up and saw Luke and the aliens standing where his office used to be, along with an array of monitors and other technology. Luke began to walk towards him, while the aliens prepared to activate the device once again after turning it off seconds before teleporting, which had been a necessity. Back at Luke's apartment, Stan and the Blue Shirts were just now beginning to regain their free will, retaining no memory of what had just happened. The Boss attempted to run from Luke and the aliens, however he found that his leg had been injured and he could not stand up. Luke stood over him and looked down into his eyes. The Boss looked up at him, and said "This wasn't what I wanted. After you chose to be loyal to them rather than to me, there was only so much that I could do. I'm sorry, s-" before being cut off by Luke, who asked "Do you know what happens when someone gains power without earning it?" Before the Boss could answer, the aliens activated the device, and every Blue Shirt in the hideout fell under their control.

Chapter Twenty Two



Having conquered the Blue Shirts' hideout, the aliens now had a force of considerable strength at their disposal. Using the terminals connected to the device, they were able to establish behavioral perameters in all of their subjects, allowing them to instantaneously issue general orders over the entire force. Unfortunately, the terminals weren't yet able to give specific commands to individual soldiers, which had to be assigned in person. Sam was granted immunity to the control of the device, so that she could continue to quickly gather crucial supplies both inside and outside of the device's area of control; otherwise, the device would have stripped her of her full range of skills in exchange for obedience, and she would have suffered amnesia every time she left the device's range. The aliens currently needed her to be as effective as possible, as they couldn't send the enslaved Blue Shirts out on missions until the range of the device had expanded beyond the hideout, and they had to rely almost solely on her to procure the necessary resources. Sam, eager to obtain new upgrades, was as prolific as ever, and the range of the device quickly began to grow. As it spread, the aliens were able to send the Blue Shirts out to gather resources as well, which expedited the process even further. Soon, the majority of the borough fell under the control of the aliens, and every person within their territory quickly dropped everything and set about gathering materials for the device. Unfortunately for Sam, after the aliens had gained control of the borough, Heyt informed her that her body simply couldn't handle any further upgrading. Though this bothered her to no end, she continued to serve the aliens to the best of her abilities, for the time being.

During this time, the allies had been regrouping after the devastating loss that they had suffered at the hands of the Blue Shirts. The leaders of the allies spent a great deal of their time bolstering their numbers, forming alliances with all of the gangs that were eager to destroy the Blue Shirts before they could conquer the entire city. Meanwhile, the lieutenants gathered as many weapons as they could find while the soldiers honed their marksmanship, preparing for the day when they could reclaim their territory. John and Cleo assisted in every way that they could, hoping that the allies would attack in time to prevent the activation of the device. As the days passed on, the alliance grew to become a force capable of challenging the Blue Shirts, and the soldiers were sent out on scouting missions and raids to prepare for the upcoming battle. One of these raiding parties managed to cross deep into the Blue Shirts' territory undetected, and discovered a very odd sight; every single person, whether they were a civilian or a gangster, was occupied solely with acquiring scrap metal and electronics. The raiding party ducked into a large hardware store to avoid being detected by a passing group of Blue Shirts, and found that the store had been stripped clean of everything of value (save for a few copper pipes and rolls of wire). One of them walked over to a window and scanned the streets, while the others looked around the ravaged store. "What the fuck is going on?" asked one of them, to which the man beside him simply shook his head. The lieutenant leading the party replied "Something's not right here. It looks like the aftermath of a riot or some shit, but... I didn't hear about anything like that going down last night. And where the fuck are the cops? I know that they tend to stay off to the side when bad shit happens around here, but you'd think a huge fuckin' riot would be enough to get them to show up." "They did show up," said the soldier by the window. As the others turned to face him, he pointed out the window towards a police officer across the street. Of course, the officer had been enslaved by the device, and the raiding party stared at him in confusion as he hauled off a bag of materials. "Are you fucking kidding me? They're in on it?" said one of them, and another replied "Looks like it." As the raiding party continued to talk amongst themselves, the soldier by the window thought to himself in silence, rubbing the copper wire that he had wound around his wrist into a thick makeshift bracelet. Just like the others, he had been skeptical when John and Cleo warned the allies about the device, however he now slowly began to realize that they were right, and that the copper they had given him was all that was currently keeping his mind free.

"It's the device," he said, turning to face the others. "What? You mean that thing John and Cleo were talking about?" replied one of them, and another shook his head and said "Don't start with that alien bullshit." The lieutenant looked down in silence for a moment while the others continued to talk, thinking about the situation for a moment before interjecting "He's right. There's no other explanation. The device is real, and it's been activated." As the members of the raiding party looked at him incredulously, still unconvinced that the aliens and the device were real, they began to voice their disagreement. The lieutenant ignored them, saying "We were too late," to himself in a quiet voice. Just then, a young woman in the streets glanced through the window of the hardware store, noticing the raiding party. The behavioral perameters instilled in her beckoned her to attack anyone in her vicinity that had been registered as an enemy, and the sight of the gang colors worn by the raiding party caused her to feel an insatiable anger. She recklessly flung herself towards the man on the other side of the window, who had turned to face the rest of the raiding party, shattering the pane as she grabbed hold of him. The broken glass filled the air, slicing up both her and her quarry, yet she seemed to completely ignore the large cuts that had formed across her body.

As the other members of the raiding party rushed to help him, the man near the window struggled to fend off his attacker, who was trying to stab him with a piece of broken glass. He managed to knock the shard out of her hands, however she refused to relent; now lacking a weapon, she continued her assault by biting into his neck. He lifted his arm in an attempt to push her away, and his copper bracelet came close to her face, causing her to fall backwards as she noticed it. She, along with the rest of the alien's slaves, had been programmed to avoid coming into contact with copper, keeping them from accidentally freeing their minds while gathering resources. The young woman glared at him with a confused expression as her mind beckoned her to simultaneously fight and retreat, now outnumbered as the other members of the raiding party came to assist him. Eventually, her instinct to attack proved stronger than her instinct to avoid copper, and she rushed the raiding party without caution. As one of the men pushed her back, the man who had been near the window grabbed hold of her and pressed his bracelet against her skin. She looked at him for a few seconds with tired and confused eyes, before losing control of her legs and falling backwards in a heap. Now seperated from the copper bracelet, she began to fall under the control of the device once again, until a copper pipe was placed in her hands. She gripped it loosely as she began to regain her senses, and the raiding party took a moment to relax and plan their next move. However, though the young woman was now no longer a threat, the commotion of the fight had attracted the attention of many people nearby, and they began to make their way towards the raiding party, gathering a variety of makeshift weapons.

Upon noticing the encroaching attackers, the raiding party quickly collected themselves and rushed for the store's back door. They ran out onto the streets with only a few copper pipes to defend themselves with, and the attackers soon caught up to them. At first, the raiders put up a good fight, fending off their attackers without too much trouble, however more and more enemies joined the fight as it dragged on. Unfortunately, an enslaved Blue Shirt with an alien rifle happened to be alerted to the chaos, and he fired at the raiders as he leapt into the fray. Almost instantly, two of the raiders were killed by the Blue Shirts' shots, and everyone else in the fight was knocked back by the blasts. The surviving raiders quickly got to their feet and began to run from the fight, desperately trying to escape their pursuers. The Blue Shirt managed to kill one more with a well placed shot, before the others evaded him by splitting up. In the end, only one member of the raiding party managed to return to the allies, and he informed them of the activation of the device. The leaders of the alliance now understood how powerful the aliens had become, and that they would grow even stronger as their device's range was increased. If they were to have any hope of defeating them before they could conquer the entire planet, they would need to strike as quickly as possible. As the soldiers of the alliance were prepared for the upcoming battle, the leaders formed a rudimentary plan.

Destroying the device was obviously the prime objective, as it would liberate the enslaved army that would undoubtedly be defending the territory, making the aliens exponentially easier to kill. That being so, the leaders of the alliance decided that Luke's apartment was where the focus of their attention should be, as they were not aware that the device had been relocated to the hideout of the Blue Shirts. Suddenly, as they were discussing the matter, one of the maps that they had been marking with battle plans began to rise into the air. "That's a fuckin' horrible plan. You're all gonna get slaughtered," said Sam, as she turned off her cloaking device.

Chapter Twenty Three



Immediately, all of the nearby guards took aim at her. Sam laughed, raising a hand as she said "Relax. If I'd come here to kill you, I'd have butchered your entire pathetic army without any of you catching so much as a glimpse of me. I am, after all, an invisible fucking assassin." "You're Sam, I presume?" spoke Francesca, aiming a sawed-off shotgun at her. Sam nodded, brushing back her hair with a metallic hand as she replied "Yeah, i'm Sam. Or at least, you know, most of me still is." Francesca, still aiming her firearm at Sam, smiled and said "I've been looking forward to meeting you... almost as much as I've been looking forward to killing you. They say that you're invincible, yes?" Sam laughed slightly, replying "Nobody's invincible. But hey, I guess I do come pretty close..." Before she and Francesca could converse further, Naomasa (who was the only ally in the room that hadn't pulled out a gun) took a sip from the drink that he had been pouring for himself as Sam had entered, and asked "Are you alright?" The surrounding allies looked at Naomasa incredulously, confused by his out of place question. As Sam had entered and announced herself, Naomasa had almost immediately noticed that she was in pain. Though she tried to hide it behind a laid back demeanor, Naomasa could tell by her face that she was trying hard to remain calm, although the most obvious and telling sign of her condition was that one of her fists was clenched very tightly. Shocked by his seemingly inhuman perception, Sam stared at him for a moment, until Naomasa smiled slightly and nodded towards her hand. Sam, looking down in the direction of Naomasa's nod, began to laugh as she noticed the dead giveaway that was her clenched fist. "You caught me," she replied, opening her hand and stretching her fingers. "They warned me about this. You know, if I ever tried to betray them. Suppose they thought that it'd be enough to keep me from doing anything rash. I put on a pretty good show for them when they first used it, and I have to admit that it did hurt like hell, but they forgot to take one thing into account... and that's the fact that I've hurt like hell my whole life. This..." she stopped and gestured towards the scar on her neck, "can't hit me with anything that I haven't already learned to live with."

Of course, none of the allied soldiers knew quite what Sam was talking about, as it was unknown to them that the aliens had implanted a device in her that caused her to feel pain whenever she so much as thought about betraying them. However, Naomasa quickly began to understand the situation, and he took another sip from his drink before asking "So, they implanted a device in you, in an attempt to control you?" Sam narrowed her eyes, replying "Yeah. Didn't you already know that?" Naomasa shook his head, saying "All I knew was that you were in pain." Eager to unravel the motives behind Sam's arrival, the leader of the Red Sleeves finally asked the question that was on everyone's mind: "Why are you here?" Sam, becoming slightly more serious, turned towards him and curtly replied "Isn't it obvious? I'm here to help you pathetic sacks of shit out. That's why the aliens' toy in my neck is setting my nerves on fire." "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" interjected one of the guards, before the leader of the Red Sleeves gestured for him to be silent by raising a hand. Turning to face Sam once again, he asked "And what if we don't want your help?" Sam laughed, replying "What's the matter? You don't trust me? You think the aliens sent me to trick you, or something like that? Like I said before, I could have already killed the shit out of all of you if that was my goal." One of the guards angrily answered "Oh, come on! You really expect us to fall for your bullshit? We ought to kill your ass right now, before you get a chance to stab us in the back, like you've done to everyone else!" This set off a commotion among the guards and lieutenants, as some of them began to voice their disdain. The leader of the Red Sleeves glared angrily at the soldiers, causing them to quiet down. Facing Sam, he asked "Why are you betraying the aliens?"

"Well," replied Sam, "I guess i'm just not much of an idealist. I never cared for politics, you know? The way I see it, the world is always going to be run by power hungry assholes, and every problem that gets solved either ends up making no difference at all, or leads to a thousand more problems popping up in the future. It just... it never fucking ends. Really, all you can do is try to make the most of the pile of shit that is life. I know who I am, and I know what I want. In the end, that's really all I can bring myself to care about. Morally, this whole power struggle between you fuckers and the aliens doesn't mean shit to me. All I want is to become as powerful as I possibly can, and I'll help whichever side stands to benefit me the most. Right now, that side happens to be the alliance. I mean, yeah, working for the aliens was pretty great for awhile, and they've given me more strength than any human has ever possessed. But lately, they're doubtful of my loyalty... which I suppose is actually quite reasonable of them, since here I am, betraying them. They refuse to upgrade me any further, and they've taken precautions to make sure that I don't use my powers against them. I've overhead them talking about me, and I've learned that most of my upgrades have some failsafe hidden in them; they can see through my cloaking device, the gun they installed in my arm won't work on them, they supposedly have some sort of projectile that can easily pierce the shield around me, and so on. Not only has their usefulness to me come to an end, but... they're the only ones in the world who can destroy me. And I simply can't have that. So... yeah. That's why i'm here. I need your help. Believe me, I'd take them out on my own if I could, but they just have too much leverage over my powers, and their device has enslaved more people than even I could hope to fight. At best, I could smash maybe a few of them to pieces before the rest of them and their big fucking army took me out."

“I never expected you to be so much of a coward,” replied Francesca. “Like you said, the only reason you’re willing to help us defeat the aliens is to make sure that there’ll be nobody left on the planet who can kill you. You’re too afraid to fight them yourself, and so now you’re bowing down to us mere 'pathetic sacks of shit’, begging for our help.“ Sam rolled her eyes and said “Think what you want. The fact remains that I’m your only shot at taking out the aliens. I know where the device is, and I know how to get to it. Take it or fucking leave it.” The leader of the Red Sleeves sighed, and asked “Alright. What did you have in mind?” “First of all,” replied Sam, setting the map back down on the table, “you should know that the device isn’t at Luke’s apartment; it was moved to the Blue Shirts’ hideout. In terms of how to get to it, well… I happen to know a thing or two about the aliens’ defense system. Like I said before, I overhear things. Kind of a habit of mine. Anyway, right now, the aliens have sent almost everyone under their control to go and gather materials to help power up their brainwashing machine. However, that doesn’t mean that the device is undefended; the aliens have a system of cameras set up throughout the borough, and they’re ready to order their slaves to attack if they spot any large groups of intruders on the monitors. However, there’s a flaw in their system; when they send out orders using the main monitor attached to the device, which is the only way to command their slaves over a long distance, they can’t send out orders to individual soldiers or even small groups. If they send out commands using the monitor, everyone gets them. I figure that if you all send some soldiers to attack an area near a few cameras, the aliens will be forced to send their whole army to stop them. This would clear out the borough, allowing the rest of the alliance to head right for the device without running into any trouble. As long as you steer clear of cameras, you’ll be able to attack the device before the aliens even know what’s happening. To that end, I have some good news… after overhearing the aliens talking about the cameras, I did a little digging when they weren’t looking, and discovered the locations of them. I can show you exactly where the distraction unit should attack, and I can also guide the real army on an unmonitored path towards the device. After that, you’ll have to take out the unit of heavily armed Blue Shirts that the aliens keep at the hideout. They’re close enough for the aliens to give them commands in person, meaning that they can override the general orders of the console, allowing them to constantly defend the area. Like I said, they’re well armed, but there aren’t that many of them. You should be able to kill them without too much trouble.”

“There are three problems with your plan,” said the leader of the Red Sleeves. “First, anyone who joined the distraction team would basically be committing suicide. And there’s no way that they could draw out the entirety of the aliens’ army and keep them occupied for more than a few minutes.” “Then I guess the people attacking the hideout will have to move quickly,” replied Sam. “But, in the meantime, the distraction team would still be utterly slaughtered. Who would possibly agree to-“ began the leader of the Red Sleeves, before he was cut off by Francesca, who said “I’ll do it,” while lighting a cigarette. “Francesca,” said Naomasa, “that’s not necessary. My men are more than capable of carrying out this mission.” However, Francesca smiled and lifted a hand, gesturing for Naomasa to relent. The leader of the Red Sleeves turned towards Francesca and asked “Are you certain?” She nodded in response. That being settled, the leader of the Red Sleeves continued, saying “Very well. Sam, the second problem with your plan is that we have no idea how to destroy the device. While we’re sitting around in the hideout, trying to figure out how to deactivate it, the aliens will have ordered all of their army to return to defend it after realizing that the first attack was just a trick.”

“That’s not a problem,” replied Sam. “Back when the device started enslaving the borough, I witnessed something pretty fucking hilarious. While the device was shooting out it’s mind control waves, it grabbed hold of a Red Sleeve scout that happened to be dicking around in Blue Shirt territory, without wearing any copper. So, after grabbing a bunch of scrap metal, he headed over to the hideout to drop it off, right? Well, just then, one of the armed guards started freaking out, trying to shoot him. Apparently, it was some kind of glitch; even though the aliens’ slaves are ordered to shoot members of gangs like the Red Sleeves on sight, there was supposed to be some line of code entered into the monitor that overruled that instinct if the enemy gang member happened to be enslaved by the device. Anyway, one of the guard’s shots blasted through the ceiling, towards the area above where the aliens were working on the device. After restoring order, the aliens tried to act like it was no big deal, and I left to go carry out some missions. Later on, after I got back, I was finally able to sneak a peek at the device to see if it had been hit, and, well… the shot had just barely cut through the casing, but there seemed to be a few scorch marks around the damaged area. I remembered that some of the chemicals that I had nabbed for the aliens were pretty fucking flammable. Unfortunately, the aliens improved the device’s shielding after the incident, making it much more sturdy, but I know a way around that. Near the device is a generator… it’s shielded as well, making it impervious to most forms of damage, but it’s also connected to some sort of weird array of discs that the aliens installed on the roof of the hideout. These discs are how we’ll destroy the device. They’re very sensitive to electrical currents, and the aliens made sure to put a special type of lightning rod near them that would apparently protect them from being overloaded. One of my upgrades allows me to fire electrical blasts from my arm. See what I’m getting at, here? I’ll fry the discs, overloading the generator, and the device will be totally exposed. After that, my guess is that a shot from a fully charged alien rifle would easily finish the job.”

“Well,” said the leader of the Red Sleeves, “though it sounds quite risky, and we have no way of knowing if it’ll work until the very moment when we either succeed or die, it may be the only possible way that we can destroy the device. Now, the final flaw with your plan is the aliens themselves. According to John, they can deflect shotgun blasts with ease, and they’re very physically strong as well. If we’re going to destroy the device, we’re bound to run into them along the way, and so we need to know how to fight them.” “Now that,” replied Sam, “is something I can’t help you with. I’ve searched for any tricks or strategies that I could use to take them all out, and it seems like the only way to do it is the hard way; punch through their shields, and fuck ‘em up before they get a chance to recharge them. It’ll be tough, but you have to remember that they can be killed, if you hit them hard enough, you know? Anyway… that’s my plan. Distract them, ambush them, and then blow the device up. What do you say?” The leader of the Red Sleeves thought about it for a moment, glancing at Francesca and Naomasa. After Francesca nodded towards him, and Naomasa shrugged, he turned back towards Sam and replied “I suppose it’ll have to do. We’ll spend the rest of the night fine tuning and organizing the plan, and we’ll attack tomorrow morning.” “I’ll be there,” replied Sam, as she turned and walked away.

Well, I think it's safe to say that the users of Music Banter really need to shell out the cash for new computer mice; people are still accidentally clicking on this journal, now to the tune of over two thousand times! I guess I should do something special, in the off chance that someone actually likes this journal, and didn't accidentally click on Blood and Diamonds while scrolling through the journal forum.

I'm not sure what I should do to commemorate the occasion... How about one more side story before I write the final entries and finish this journal off for good?

Side Story: Convertible, Part One



After using Sam's advice to come up with a plan, the leaders of the alliance informed their men of the coming attack, and the warehouses buzzed with activity. For the majority of the soldiers in the alliance, it was a sleepless night, as everyone prepared for their impending doom in their own way. After hitting a punching bag for awhile, Ricardo began to get a headache from the noise and heat of the crowded warehouse, and he stepped outside into the cool darkness of night. After taking a few steps towards the docks, he made out a familiar face ahead; Cleo was sitting on one of the docks, dangling her feet above the water, writing something down in a notebook. "Hey," said Ricardo as he sat down beside her. Cleo looked up at him, but before she could answer, Ricardo added "Is that a new notebook? The one you had when we first met was red. Remember, back at the club, when you kicked that guy in the face after he tackled me?" Cleo smiled, and replied "Good times," before looking down, and adding "How could I forget? And yeah, you're right, it's a different notebook. A friend gave it to me. You know, you've got a good memory, man." Ricardo shrugged, saying "I guess. I've always been pretty good at remembering things. Haven't forgot a birthday in a long time... not that anyone I know celebrates theirs. Anyway, what happened to the other notebook? Did you fill it up, or something?" Cleo set her pen down and smiled, replying "Does it matter? I mean, no offense, but why do you care?" Ricardo looked down and tilted his head, saying "Just making small talk. Beats just sitting around, thinking about how we're all gonna die horribly tomorrow." "Fuck that," replied Cleo. "I'm not dying anytime soon, not until I finish this fucking story. After that, the universe can fuck me over any way it wants, but until then, it's gonna take a lot more than some assholes from space take me out." With that, she picked up her pen once again, and began twirling it around in her fingers. Ricardo smiled, and said "Hey, I was just joking around. I'm right there with you. Fuck those aliens, and fuck dying. So... what're you writing? Sounds like you really give a shit about seeing it through to the end. Is it the same story that you were writing back when we first met?" Cleo laughed, and replied "Fuck no! That was just some piece of shit story I threw together for a skin mag." Ricardo laughed, saying "I didn't know that skin mags even had stories. But then again, I guess there are all kinds of people, with all kinds of needs, right?"

Cleo rolled her eyes, saying "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the story i'm trying to write now is... different. More personal, you know? At first, I didn't even know where to begin, but now i'm really starting to get in the groove. Or at least I was, until you interrupted me." Ricardo smiled and raised his hands, saying "My bad. Didn't mean to stifle your precious creativity." "It's fine," replied Cleo, rolling her eyes again. "So," said Ricardo, "what's it about, anyway?" Cleo thought for a moment, before replying "Well... me, I guess. I've been writing about everything that's happened to me during the past few days. It's my point of view during all of this weird shit, yeah? Figure people might find it interesting in the future. Could give them some answers after all of this shit with the brainwashing aliens and the Threx goes down. Hell, I guess you could say that it'd be historic. An eye witness account." "Oh, ain't that sweet," said Sam as she deactivated her cloaking device. "That's just what the world needs. Another fat fucking historical book that's only good for either boring or bludgeoning people to death with." Startled by her sudden appearance, both Cleo and Ricardo almost fell forward into the water. "Oh, come on!" exclaimed Ricardo. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Sam shrugged, and replied "Hanging around." "Hanging around?" asked Ricardo. "Yeah," said Sam as she folded her arms, "hanging around. Look, if you had the power of invisibility, you'd do it too, alright? So don't give me any shit."

Ricardo shook his head and laughed, saying "You know what? I don't even care. I don't give a shit about you, and I couldn't fucking care less about what you do. As long as you, you know, do it somewhere else. So fuck off." "I've got a better idea," said Sam, as she stepped closer to Ricardo. "How 'bout I rip off your legs, and kick the shit out of your face with them? I bet that'd look fucking hilarious." Ricardo laughed, and replied "No, you know what really looks hilarious? A burned up bitch with a can opener for an arm. Tell you what, if I need help opening a real badass can of soup anytime soon, I'll give you a holler." Sam smiled, and said "I'm hearing a lot of tough talk, but I wonder what kind of noises you'll make after I open you up. I've dealt with assholes like you before, and one punch from me is all it takes to turn 'Fuck you' into 'Oh god, please stop'." "Ooh," said Cleo, "that's a good one. I've got to remember that shit for when I introduce you in the story. Let people really get a taste for your personality." Sam looked over at her curiously, asking "Really? You're putting me in there? You're not just fucking around?" Cleo shrugged, before nodding lightly. Sam shrugged as well, saying "Hey, that's actually kinda cool. I'm flattered." After thinking for a moment, she narrowed her eyes, and continued "If you fuck me up, like write me in as a stupid fucking asshole or something, I'll... I don't know, break your knees or something. Just don't do it."

Cleo was about to say something, when she was interrupted by the screeching of tires. The three of them looked in the direction that the sound came from, and saw a well-dressed man stepping out of a fancy convertible. "Fuckin' lazy assholes. Making me come all the way out here to do this shit myself... I should fire the lot of 'em," he said as he walked towards a small seafood restaurant. "Never shoulda bought this fuckin' place. Fuckin' con artist got me good..." He unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Ricardo and Sam both looked at each other, and smiled. Without hesitating, they both ran towards the restaurant. Cleo closed her notebook and stood up, following behind them. As they reached the convertible, both Sam and Ricardo jumped inside, with Sam ending up in the driver's seat. "Fuckin' a," said Sam, as she looked down and saw that the man had left the keys in the ignition. "Hey," whispered Ricardo angrily, "no fucking way! This is my ride! Go find your own!" Sam looked over towards him, and replied "Is your ass in the driver's seat? No? Then fuck off." "Oh, c'mon! You're invisible! You can go steal any car in the city, any time you want! Look, i'm sorry about insulting you earlier. That was low of me. But please, let me have this one!" Sam gave Ricardo the finger, and replied "You're gonna be sitting on this before your ass ever touches the driver's seat. Now fuck off!" Cleo caught up to them, and put a hand on the car as she leaned forward and looked inside. "What's the plan?" she asked. Before Sam or Ricardo could respond, the owner of the convertible stepped outside, and almost immediately noticed them messing with his ride. "Hey, get the fuck out of there!" he yelled, dropping a parcel as he ran towards them. Sam turned the keys, and Ricardo grabbed Cleo, pulling her in just as the convertible began to race away. "Fuck!' she groaned as she fell in, maneuvering her way into the backseat. Sam and Ricardo started to laugh as the convertible picked up speed, and it wasn't long before they found themselves cruising up the street towards the city's neon soaked downtown.

Side Story: Convertible, Part Two



Cleo looked up at a large advertisement on the side of a building, folding her arms and tilting her head. On it was a man with absurdly styled hair wearing tattered jeans and a leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, chains draped over him haphazardly. Above him, in bold red lettering, were the words 'Express Your Individuality', followed by a brand logo. Cleo narrowed her eyes and continued to examine it, though she felt the urge to turn away. There was something about it that left a pit in her stomach, yet she couldn't quite figure out what it was. She felt herself shiver, as she thought about what advertisements looked like a hundred years ago, and what they would look like a hundred years in the future. It made all of the creativity, innovation, and energy of every generation, including her own, seem like an insignificant joke that keeps getting told. She felt cold and alone, as though nothing she or anyone could ever do would truly matter. Every name would be forgotten, every tower would fall, every hero would become tomorrow's fool, and eventually, everything would turn to dust, and be nothing at all. "You done yet?" she asked, lowering her gaze. "Just about," replied Ricardo, who was urinating on the wall below the advertisement. As he finished and zipped up his pants, he looked up at the poster briefly with a vacant glance, before clearing his nose and walking away. "Let's get the fuck out of here," said Cleo, as she nodded her head towards the car.

Ricardo looked at her and answered "Sure. Where's robo-bitch?" "She'll be back in a sec. Said she wanted to get something to drink," replied Cleo as she jumped into the front passenger seat. "Hey, now. Don't be a fucking seat thief," said Ricardo, looking at her expectantly. "Fair is fair, sidekick. Pull me into a moving car, the least you can do is give me a front row seat," replied Cleo, as she pointed towards the backseat with her thumb. Before Ricardo could argue with her, Sam knocked down the wall of the nearby convenience store with a well placed kick, and stepped outside carrying two kegs of alchohol. "What the fuck?" asked Ricardo, looking at Sam with an incredulous expression. "I had a thirst for beer, and a thirst for action, so I decided to quench them both at once. I'm one efficient motherfucker," she replied with a smile. The owner of the convenience store ran outside with a pistol, firing a shot at Sam while screaming obscenities. Thanks to the powerful shield emitters that the aliens had equipped her with, the bullet ricocheted harmlessly off of the back of her head. Sam looked back at him and raised up one of the kegs, yelling "Don't make me feed this to you, you fuckin' worm!"

After placing one of the kegs beside Ricardo in the back, Sam hopped into the driver's seat and started the car up. As she drove away, she used her robotic arm to punch a hole into the top of the keg sitting in her lap, and she drank freely from it. Of course, Sam being thusly distracted, the car began to swerve tremendously. "You're gonna get us killed!" yelled Cleo as she reached for the steering wheel. Sam lowered her keg and pushed Cleo's hand away, saying "Hey, it's all good! I know what i'm doing! Just fuckin' relax!" "Just don't fuck up the wheels before we get a chance to spin them, alright? And did you really need two whole fucking kegs?" asked Ricardo. Sam laughed, and replied "Well, I figured one keg is good for a party, and i'm a party and a half, you know? So I rounded up." Ricardo looked at her with a confused expression, shaking his head as he said "The fuck are you talking about?" While Sam and Ricardo continued to argue with each other, Cleo put her head back against her chair and closed her eyes, trying to get used to Sam's erratic driving. Eventually, she began to feel a bit more calm, and she turned her head to the side as she opened her eyes. Her gaze fell upon an endless river of neon streaks, constantly racing past her as the car sped across the city's downtown. The night was warming up, though the wind hitting the convertible provided a constant cool breeze, and the late-night businesses and restaurants along the street filled the air with a variety of scents. The car picked up even more speed, and all the world seemed to fade into a steady blur. It was at this moment that Cleo thought back on the advertisement, about how insignificant it had made life seem, however the image didn't give her the same depressed feeling that it had before. On the contrary, it suddenly came to her as a great comfort. For whatever reason, as the convertible continued to race through the city, insignificance seemed like something charming in the wake of inevitability. Even if she only had a second longer to live, it would be a second worth living for, and dying for. People come and people go, and all they can do is accomplish what they can with what they have. The image of dust that once terrified her now seemed to be a sandy beach that stretched as far as her imagination would allow, and she didn't mind the rising tide. In her mind, nothing mattered now, and yet she couldn't help but smile.

Though it's kinda late for it, I couldn't help but give in to the tradition of reviewing a few random albums every thousand views. A few days ago, I went to a record store and grabbed some vinyl that I'd never heard of before. Also, well... one of them is technically just an EP, and not a full album. Sue me. :finger:

Side Story: Convertible, Part Three

As the convertible sped through the neon drenched streets of the city's downtown, Cleo noticed that she had knocked the glove compartment open with her knee when she had jumped into the front seat earlier. Giving it a curious glance, her attention fell upon a stack of cassette tapes that had been pushed to the back. Cleo grabbed a few, and looked them over. Judging by the fact that the names of the bands were hastily scrawled across the tapes with a marker, it was fairly obvious that they were bootlegs. Her curiosity mounting, Cleo popped one of the cassettes into the car's tape deck, and began to rewind it. "The fuck did you just put in?" asked Sam, as she lifted the keg of beer in her lap to her lips. Cleo shrugged, and began to examine the rest of the tapes as she replied "No clue. I found 'em in the glove compartment." Sam smiled and shrugged back at her, saying "Alright. But if they suck, I swear, I'm driving back to the docks and feeding 'em to that asshole." Cleo set the tapes down and leaned back into her chair, closing her eyes as she replied "I'm right there with you. But go easy on him, sidekick. After all, he donated his ride to us quite generously, didn't he?" Sam laughed as she started to lift the keg once again. "Yeah, I guess he did. Alright, I won't feed him the tapes... but he's still gotta eat this," she said, taking her hand off of the wheel and making a fist. As the car began to swerve, Sam set her hand back down and regained control. "Nice driving, robo bitch," said Ricardo, to which Sam responded by giving him the finger. Of course, in taking her hand off of the wheel to make the gesture, the car began to swerve once again. Ricardo laughed and shook his head, before leaning forward and lazily tapping Cleo on the shoulder with the back of his hand. "Hey Cleo," he said, using his free hand to brush back a few hairs that the wind had blown into his face, "why do you always call people 'sidekick'?" Cleo shrugged, and replied "Habit, I guess. Why do you call Sam 'robo bitch'?" Ricardo smiled, saying "It's fun to say, you know?" As Sam glared back at him, he added "Hey, no hard feelings, right?" Sam rolled her eyes, and pushed Ricardo back into the backseat of the car, with him laughing all the while. Just then, the tape deck clicked as the tape was completely rewound, and the music began to play.

Burning Rome - Debut



Cleo wasn't really sure what to expect from a tape labelled "Burning Rome", but it turned out that it wasn't anything super exotic; at it's heart, it was solid 1980's style rock, with a bit of an AOR feeling to it. It started off strong, and had a few catchy and memorable songs on the first side, however it began to lose some steam as it carried on. Cleo enjoyed it, though it didn't exactly have the energy and beat of the club music that she normally enjoyed listening to. Sam seemed to have fun with it, occasionally setting down her keg so she could drum along on the steering wheel. As the tape began to reach it's end, Ricardo noticed a woman with a knife running after a frightened would-be purse snatcher along the side of the road. After the car passed them, Ricardo turned around in his chair to see what would happen next, and noticed a car speeding up from behind. Glancing through the windshield, he quickly noticed that the three men inside the car were all carrying guns. Just as Cleo popped in the next tape, which was luckily already rewound, Ricardo yelled "Oh shit! We've got company!"

The Toasters - Self Titled EP



Sam and Cleo looked over their shoulders, and the music began to play. The mysterious car began to pull up beside them, and the men rolled down their windows and fired their guns wildly at the convertible. Sam quickly pulled the wheel to the side and rammed into the attackers, cheerily asking "Who the fuck are these assholes?" "Why are you asking me? How the fuck should I know?" replied Ricardo. Sam laughed as she pulled back from the attackers and tried to speed away, but they followed her without relent. "Wait a minute... remember that convenience store you fucked up? The owner was probably under someone's protection, paying tribute, you know?" asked Ricardo. "Whoever they are, they're pretty fuckin' stupid if they think those puny little guns can leave a scratch on me," said Sam, laughing even harder. "Hey, you might be invincible, but we aren't. Get us the fuck out of here," said Ricardo. Sam rolled her eyes, and replied "I know. I'm trying to get away from them, aren't I?" As the battle raged on, Cleo quickly realized that there was nothing she or Ricardo could do in this situation, and so she once again closed her eyes and enjoyed the music. Marked "The Toasters", Cleo expected it to be standard rock like the last tape, and was surprised to hear that it was Ska, a genre that she had very little familiarity with. Still, it was immediately enjoyable, being very fun, energetic and lighthearted. Though it was only four songs long, Cleo really enjoyed the tape while it lasted, except for one song that was a bit too slow paced for her tastes. Unfortunately, Sam and Ricardo were too preoccupied to either notice or enjoy the music, and the convertible sped on as the streets were filled with the sound of gunfire, screeching tires, and Ska.

Maggie Bell - Suicide Sal



The next tape seemed to be a blend of rock, soul, and funk, with a powerful Joplin-esque singer tying it all together. Cleo wasn't too crazy about it, and there were a few songs that just didn't stand out at all to her, but it was still a fairly solid body of work that had a presence to it. "Fuck this," said Sam with a smile as she slowed the car down slightly, allowing the car behind them to catch up. "The fuck are you doing?" asked Ricardo. Right as the car pulled up beside them, and the men prepared to fire their guns, Sam used her robotic arm to throw the keg in her lap at them. It smashed through the front of the car with ease, killing the driver. Without any guidance, the car crashed into a street lamp before flipping over. As Sam drove the convertible away from the scene, Cleo smiled and said "Looks like we've got a keg up on the competition." "What?" asked Ricardo, who didn't get the joke. Sam rolled her eyes, as Cleo explained "You know, like a leg up, but..." Ricardo shook his head and fell back into his seat, taking a deep breath and laughing. "That's so fuckin' bad..." he replied. "Alright," interjected Sam, "it looks like our joyride is coming to a close. After that gunfight, the cops'll be hot on the ass of anyone driving a car fitting this description. They're twitchy enough as it is with all of that weird shit going down in the Blue Shirts territory... nobody working, cops deserting, mass looting, you know?" "Sounds good to me," said Ricardo. "I think I've seen enough action for one night." Cleo gasped, glancing back at Ricardo and replying "What? Is that even possible?" "Yeah, yeah..." said Ricardo, smiling and shaking his head. In time, the convertible was disposed of, and the first rays of the coming day began to stretch across the sky as the three made their way back to the docks.