San Diego Padres 10 @ Miami Marlins 1

Line Score

Team	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	R	H	E
Padres	0	0	0	2	1	7	0	0	0	10	11	1
Marlins	0	0	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	1	4	0

Box Score

Padres Batters	AB	R	H	RBI	BB	K	LOB	AVG	OPS		Marlins Batters	AB	R	H	RBI	BB	K	LOB	AVG	OPS
1 Kim, Ha SS	4	2	1	0	1	1	0	.241	.717		1 Arraez 2B	2	0	1	1	0	0	0	.382	.903
2 Tatis Jr. RF	4	2	3	4	1	0	0	.253	.786		Hampson 2B	1	0	0	0	0	1	1	.236	.645
3 Soto, J LF	3	0	0	0	0	3	2	.259	.913		2 Soler DH	3	0	1	0	0	0	1	.249	.879
Grisham CF	1	0	0	0	0	0	1	.192	.670		a-Stallings P	1	0	0	0	0	0	1	.148	.432
4 Bogaerts SS	4	1	1	0	0	1	2	.257	.743		3 De La Cruz LF	4	0	1	0	0	1	1	.295	.804
Odor 3B	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.200	.692		4 Sánchez, J RF	4	0	0	0	0	0	3	.293	.894
5 Dixon 1B	4	1	2	2	0	1	2	.243	.688		5 Gurriel 1B	4	0	0	0	0	1	2	.273	.746
6 Cronenworth 2B	4	1	1	1	0	2	2	.206	.696		6 Fortes C	2	0	0	0	1	0	0	.239	.610
7 Sánchez DH	4	2	2	3	0	1	1	.294	.925		7 Segura 3B	3	0	0	0	0	1	1	.201	.493
8 Azocar LF	4	0	1	0	0	2	0	.235	.525		Berti 3B	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.272	.662
9 Nola, Au C	4	1	0	0	0	0	2	.125	.415		8 Davis, Jo CF	2	1	0	0	1	0	0	.308	.900
											9 Wendle SS	2	0	1	0	1	1	0	.182	.565
Totals	36	10	11	10	2	11	12				Totals	28	1	4	1	3	5	10

BATTING		BATTING
2B: Kim, Ha (8, Luzardo); Tatis Jr. 3 (8, Luzardo, Hoeing, Stallings); Bogaerts (8, Luzardo); Dixon (2, Hoeing).		TB: Arraez; De La Cruz; Soler; Wendle.
HR: Sánchez (2, 5th inning off Luzardo, 0 on, 0 out).		RBI: Arraez (21).
TB: Azocar; Bogaerts 2; Cronenworth; Dixon 3; Kim, Ha 2; Sánchez 5; Tatis Jr. 6.		Runners left in scoring position, 2 out: De La Cruz; Gurriel 2.
RBI: Cronenworth (20); Dixon 2 (3); Sánchez 3 (5); Tatis Jr. 4 (23).		SF: Arraez.
2-out RBI: Tatis Jr. 3.		GIDP: Stallings; Sánchez, J.
Runners left in scoring position, 2 out: Cronenworth; Soto, J; Sánchez.		Team RISP: 1-for-5.
SF: Dixon.		Team LOB: 4.
GIDP: Dixon.
Team RISP: 6-for-14.		FIELDING
Team LOB: 4.		DP: (Wendle-Hampson-Gurriel).
FIELDING
E: Nola, Au (1, throw).
DP: 2 (Musgrove-Nola, Au-Dixon; Cronenworth-Dixon).

Padres Pitchers	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K	HR	ERA		Marlins Pitchers	IP	H	R	ER	BB	K	HR	ERA
Musgrove	6.0	3	1	0	3	3	0	4.71		Luzardo	5.1	4	5	5	1	8	1	4.05
Carlton	2.0	1	0	0	0	1	0	1.08		Barnes, M	0.1	4	5	5	1	0	0	5.48
Cosgrove	1.0	0	0	0	0	1	0	0.00		Hoeing	2.1	2	0	0	0	3	0	3.27
										Stallings	1.0	1	0	0	0	0	0	3.00
Totals	9.0	4	1	0	3	5	0			Totals	9.0	11	10	10	2	11	1

Scoring Plays

Team	Inning	Play	SD	MIA
MIA	▼ 3	Luis Arraez out on a sacrifice fly to left fielder Juan Soto. Jonathan Davis scores. Joey Wendle to 2nd.	0	1
SD	▲ 4	Fernando Tatis Jr. hits a ground-rule double (6) on a line drive to right-center field. Ha-Seong Kim scores.	1	1
SD	▲ 4	Brandon Dixon out on a sacrifice fly to center fielder Jonathan Davis. Fernando Tatis Jr. scores.	2	1
SD	▲ 5	Gary Sanchez homers (2) on a fly ball to left field.	3	1
SD	▲ 6	Brandon Dixon singles on a line drive to center fielder Jonathan Davis. Fernando Tatis Jr. scores. Xander Bogaerts to 3rd.	4	1
SD	▲ 6	Jake Cronenworth singles on a ground ball to center fielder Jonathan Davis. Xander Bogaerts scores. Brandon Dixon to 3rd.	5	1
SD	▲ 6	Gary Sanchez singles on a ground ball to center fielder Jonathan Davis. Brandon Dixon scores. Jake Cronenworth scores.	7	1
SD	▲ 6	Fernando Tatis Jr. doubles (7) on a line drive to left fielder Bryan De La Cruz. Gary Sanchez scores. Austin Nola scores. Ha-Seong Kim scores.	10	1

Highlights

Highlight	Duration
Jesús Sánchez makes a nice sliding catch in right	00:29
Fernando Tatis Jr. lines an RBI ground-rule double	00:21
Brandon Dixon cracks a sac fly to center field	00:16
Gary Sánchez crushes a solo home run to left field	00:19
Jesús Luzardo whiffs eight in outing against Padres	00:52

I'm a returning player, only been here for the last two months. At the end of last season I came back with little time left to actually get pen tuvala so I rolled Sorc, my original class and she's still fun as ever. Then I went on a spree of trying like 7 other classes that I'd either never played or never got to 60 and now I have 3 60s and everyone else 56+. Maegu was my favorite among them with her movement and explosiveness.
But man oh man, am I happy I waited for Summer Season to roll Woosa. I got her to 60 in two or three days within the start of season and was enjoying her Succession full of big AoE's and learning the class. But I really enjoy what PA did for the awakening. When I heard that she swapped weapons with her sister I was skeptical, and even more so when I saw the trailer. It looked flashy but I wondered how her awakening would differentiate itself from Maegu's charm and also from Woosa's succession.
If I had to sum it all up in one sentence, Awakening Woosa is a mobile mortar strike just launching heavy artillery all over the place. It took me a couple hours at desert nagas testing out her different abilities and seeing how they all fit and chained together.
And man, when I finally felt like I got the hang of chaining her movement skills in with the heavy attacks, it felt really nice. She's nowhere near as mobile or fluid as her sister imo and doesn't cover as much distance with her movement skills, but when those timed blasts go off just right or you have all those tiny projectiles homing in on a big group of mobs, it feels sweet.
All in all, I like what PA did despite my original skepticism and I'm definitely looking forward to seeing what they do for Maegu's awakening. Althought I assume Maegu will be more mid-melee combat and I prefer more mid-or-long-ranged combat with good movement, I'm still open and excited to see what they do with her. I'm definitely looking forward to getting more used to the class and learning the ins and outs of her cancels and skill chains and how to be more fluid with her movement skills.
So what do you guys think of Woosa's Awakening? Do you agree, disagree? One thing I will say is she does feel a bit heavy and sluggish at times, and some of the animations are quite long to complete, but I've found she has some relatively simple cancels for most of those and the wind-up she has for the beginning of some of her bigger AoEs mostly come with SA so I'm not too upset about that. I think it's meant to be like that, where the heavy artillery attacks she can launch comes with that heavy, weighted feeling in her movement.

https://imgur.com/701yX7F https://imgur.com/MVUETjK Hey there. I'm unloading some manga I don't want anymore. All issues are in like-new condition (Unless otherwise specified) and spent their lives cozied up on my bookshelf. If you see anything you like, let me know. I will also be using USPS to ship since their flat rate options are pretty affordable. Break of Dawn (Complete Omnibus) $15 Attack on Titan (Omnibus 1, 2 and 3) (Minor damage to the front and back) $10 Seaside Stranger 1, 2, 3, 4 $10 each Yachirin Bitch Club 1, 4 and art book $10 each (4 will include the art book) Those Not-So-Sweet Boys 1-7 $10 each, 60 for all seven books That Wolf Boy is Mine! Omnibus 1, 2 Love in Focus (Severe spine damage but still readable) $5 Au Haru Ride 1, 2, 3 $10 Out Dreams at Dusk 1 $10 Lovesick Ellie 1 $10 Ima Koi 1 $10 No Matter What You Say, Furi-san is Scary! 1, 2 $10 Dreamin' Sun 1 $10 Barbarities 1 $10 Scarlet 1, 2 (Issue 1 has a big misprint: first 51 pages are from a completely separate manga) $10 for both A Kid From the Last Dungeon Boonies Moved to a Starter Town 1, 2 $8 The Misfit of Demon King Academy 1, 2, 3 $8 Wolf and Parchment 1, $10 The Elusive Samurai 1 $8

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a towering ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, with a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.

Sir David
Far across the Capital city from the impromptu Sarkin wedding feast Sir David and Ariane were walking around the Imperial district, hand in hand, lazily enjoying the light breeze and the warm sun as they played tourist.
Sir David couldn't help but glance over at Ariane constantly, both to enjoy her, and to listen to her next piece of interesting information.
One place he had some mutual hobbies with Ariane was in history, and Ariane had devoured human history and mythology by the truck load once she'd gotten access to the Tear's internal comm net. Her reading speed and retention rate was truly something you had to see to believe.
She'd also proved she was quite crafty in the arts and crafts sense. After she'd found out about the minotaur of Greek myth, she'd set herself to work designing some new outfits that mixes ancient Greek and traditional Agela fashion, then partnered with Mama-san the Pavorus tailor aboard the Tear to produce them.
The result in this particular case was a stunning white dress that was just sheer enough in some places to be more than a little distracting, while not being at all lewd or erotic. Or anything but conservative by galactic standards.
Sure, with a slit in the skirt to her upper mid thigh, and some actual cleavage, she was showing off more skin than an Apuk girl might on average, but anything more than a micro bikini could be considered 'conservative' by galactic standards. Paired with her usual concealed shifter belt which showed off her waist and the sheer intensity of her curves in a delightfully subtle way, she'd then left her bountiful golden hair curly and put it up with a pair of pins.
The total effect between the colors of her body, her rich caramel skin, the blue of her eyes, her shining golden hair, and the various whites and creams of her not quite toga made her look the part of an actual goddess of Greek myth. Ari was an absolute gem of a woman, and was just as beautiful in sweat pants as she was all done up... but Sir David certainly appreciated the results when Ariane took the time to get all gussied up.
It was only due to David's sheer force of will and decades of self discipline that he wasn't all over her like a teenage boy on his prom date to use an American idiom. The temptation alone was... intense. The desire was strong.
Yet.
Sir David wanted to hold back. For his own sake. For Ariane's sake. He wanted to build a bond in more than mutual physical desire... and he had to remember what being... touched... was like. How to touch. How to accomplish the physical parts of being a lover.
He could hear Mary scolding him for ignoring her when she'd told him to seek out someone else to help keep his life fulfilled and happy... letting what were once well developed skills in how to be a partner, how to be a lover, how to be a friend in a context outside the military, atrophy deeply. Then again, could Mary have known just how badly her death was going to hurt him? She'd have likely scolded him for that too, but still. He just couldn't give the old girl up... and with Ariane around to stand next to the ghostly love of his life, and not in place of... well. Maybe Mary would forgive him for waiting just a little bit longer to find the right woman.
That more women could quite easily follow was... something that was becoming somewhat intriguing to David. There was, after all, near limitless potential in the galaxy.
Perhaps he was talking to Jerry too much about such things in the Ward Room after the female officers had mostly left for the evening, but the man made a persuasive, if somewhat self-serving argument in the name of plural marriage in the galaxy. Sir David himself didn't have a religious or moral objection to such things, and considering he already had more or less agreed with his... girlfriend for lack of a better term. Fiancée perhaps. That she would be his second wife per galactic terms, to respect the mother of his first children made the question of a third or fourth wife seem... much easier than simply considering a second. If the right woman showed up... why not?
"Oh! David! Look!"
Before David can be completely shaken from his thoughts he's been dragged through an ornate gate set into a stone wall into a garden. David's eyes wander the place and automatically map out the details. They're just passed through a stone wall onto a platform resting on what appeared to mostly be a natural hill, with a small set of steps leading down to the actual ground level and the stone path that ran through the grass.
The garden itself is quite large, and beautifully crafted with paths, not just of stone but within the plants themselves winding naturally through the stunning blooms and leading towards what appeared to be an altar at one end of the garden and a large set of stairs at the other.
The stairs lead up to a balcony, over which loomed a fortified building some distance behind it. David recognized it as an old fort, in a style endemic to older Apuk architecture that David had seen a few times with Ariane so far this morning while touring the Imperial district.
David makes his second sweep of the area, now looking for even more fine details this time around. Looking up a bit higher finds ten statues lining the area, each paying homage to a larger statue of a woman in armor behind the altar.
She was posed with a warblade that was nearly as long as she was tall, and she appeared to have been very tall in life, regardless of how the sculptor had scaled her up. Still, the detail in the sculpture was remarkable. The warrior woman's smile warmed the garden that was clearly a memorial like she was standing there with them that moment, no matter how long it had been since her death.
Ariane sighs with pleasure at both the exquisite sculptures around them, but also the skillful display of horticulture, taking a brief moment to sniff a vibrant blue bloom before pulling up her guide book.
"Let's see... Yes, this is the Memorial Garden of the First Battle Princess. Hmm. Some warning in the Apuk language I can't read, where's the... ah! Here we are!"
Ariane grins at her success at finding what she was looking for and starts to read the contents of the page to David.
"Princess Mira'Tok Crownborn was the title that she ended her life under many thousands of Centris standard years ago at the dawn of pre-space flight modern Apuk history. Mira'Tok was the first to receive a crown directly from the hand of the woman who would become the first Empress of Serbow, and is the predecessor of every battle princess to ever wear a crown."
The Agela woman's eyes glimmer as she continues to read, clearly excited by both the history and the craftsmanship around them.
"The statues displayed around her are her ten companions, her battle sisters... and there's a twelfth statue behind her, of the Sorcerer Dus'Kvun, her husband. Not to deemphasize him, but rather their display rotates with the Princess being displayed forward by day, and her husband by night when bioluminescent plants from the dark forest naturally light the garden up! Seems the statues automatically rotate into their different positions after sunset and at dawn. The guide suggests this was a commentary on the two halves of martial supremacy on Serbow... and a more traditional depiction of both male and female."
David arches an eyebrow and leans over to read over Ariane's shoulder a bit. "Really, she was the first? Interesting... How old is the statue then? It's incredible. Almost like she's about to start laughing and tell us a story about her adventures."
Ariane nods. "She was famous for doing just that. This garden is a few thousand years old, commissioned early in the current Imperial family's reign. Mira'Tok was named a... it's hard to pronounce it, so I'll just translate, a sword saint. So like the kensei from Japan on Earth that we discussed the other day. So Mira'Tok is a religious figure as well as a historical and martial figure. So this memorial garden was dedicated as an official war shrine of the Apuk Imperial military. What's the mean though?"
Ariane flicks through a few more screens, focused entirely on learning something new about the place they'd found themselves in.
"Here we go! As an Imperial War Shrine, the garden of the mausoleum plays host to a variety of ceremonies annually including the Empress praying for the Imperial military, officers being commissioned or promoted, and senior enlisted swearing fresh oaths of enlistment. To be offered or granted permission to swear your oaths in the garden is a significant honor and marks out either a highly distinguished, or extremely loyal individual with many years or service... or the type of fresh face who's on the fast track to bigger and better things. It's not automatic even for battle princesses who take up Imperial military service."
Ariane pushes her communicator towards David, pointing to a specific paragraph. "Ooh, look! Apparently it's not uncommon for the Empress to turn up unannounced and receive the oaths of those permitted to make their oaths in Mira'Tok's mausoleum personally."
Sir David raises an eyebrow at that. "Dear God, I don't think her majesty ever surprised anyone to take their oaths of service personally... though she did knight me and award me my Victoria cross personally, as was the standard of the age. To take an oath of service personally like that from her warriors. That's truly special for those Imperial officers and enlisted who are privileged to offer their oaths like that I'm sure. To make oaths of loyalty and service personally to your liege. Ye gods and little fishes, it's right out of a fairy tale!"
"I know! Isn't it great?" Ariane clearly suppresses a squeal, doing her best to remain respectfully calm in this sacred space.
Suddenly however, a concerning thought struck Sir David.
"Say, Ari, are there any issues with us being here as outsiders? This is, as you say, sacred ground."
Ariane puts her nose back in her communicator and reads through a few pages quickly.
"Well it says this shrine isn't considered super popular to visit because it's small and somewhat out of the way, though many warriors make pilgrimage here to entreat Mira'Tok's blessing and invoke her courage, so this part of the war shrine is proudly open to the public. Though offworld visitors are of course asked to be respectful to the gardens and the spirits of the Princess, her husband and her shield sisters. In fact... as a warrior yourself you should be able to access the inner shrine if you'd like. There's apparently some rare artifacts related to Mira'Tok, and there's usually a few Wardens, retired senior members of the Apuk Imperial forces, around who are always happy to chat with a fellow warrior. While they nominally guard the shrine, apparently they also give regular discussions and talks about the history of this place, the Imperial military, and Mira'Tok. It's by appointment only, but they also only need like thirty minutes notice."
David nods, looking around again and admiring some more of the sheer effort that had gone into this beautiful little slice of serenity in the capital.
"Sounds like we should register for one of their talks if they wouldn't mind an audience of two. Heh, registering for a tour from wardens of a tower in the capital city of an Empire. It's so familiar it's almost a touch nostalgic."
David gestures upwards at the tower that was clearly the inner shrine.
"It's just like the Tower of London back home in some ways, right down to the wardens. The Yeoman Warders of the Tower back on Earth are all retired senior enlisted military personnel. Next you'll tell me they keep a local species of black bird here. Still, this other part of the shrine, the inner shrine, I can gain access to it? But you made it sound like you couldn't? Why's that?"
David gazes over at the now blushing Ariane.
"No such luck on the black birds. As to the inner shrine... It. Ah. Access to the inner shrine is limited to warriors and their... well. It says husbands but considering you're the warrior I'm sure they'd make exception for your spouse but we aren't married and I-"
Sir David leans over, cups Ariane's cheek and chastely kisses her on the lips, a mark of affection Ariane eagerly returns with a loving sigh.
"Ooh..."
"Maybe I'm not so worried about that any more. Forgive an old man his foibles my dear... besides. I'd say you're at least my fiancée, and I. Well I don't want to presume, but I'd be. It."
David feels his tongue tangle a bit as he remembers he hadn't expressed a lot of his feelings on this subject to Ariane yet.
"I... Ari. I'd be a fool not to marry you. I think I might have done you a great disservice in not being more clear about that. I ah. Yes. It's. You're to be my wife. If you'll have me of course... Bollocks that came out wrong."
Ari looks back at David, her long lashes fluttering as she gives him a coy smile.
"You're impossible sometimes you know that?"
"I'm unfortunately aware."
"I love that about you. I suspect Mary did too. Yes David. I'm going to be your wife. You're going to be my husband. There's no need to ask, it's set in the stars and has been from the moment we first made eye contact when you came to rescue me. Because for all your desire to take it slow, I've utterly failed to honor your desires and I fall more and more in love with you with every passing minute of every passing day. How can I not? I'm a girl who loves fairy tales after all, and here at last is my gallant knight to carry me away. I do prefer the human style role swap honestly. Much more fun to be carried off on horseback by you instead of carrying you off. Makes me feel all delicate."
The first kiss was nice. The second kiss was like nothing else David had ever experienced in his life apart from kisses with Mary, and in that second kiss he wasn't worried about having to remember how to be a lover to someone anymore.
Ari's lips warmed him from the tips of his ears down to his toes, making him melt just slightly as they embrace among the flowers, which seem to bloom all the more brightly in the face of such a passionate act of mutual affection, turning up to the couple ever so slightly as if they were the sun itself.
Then the spell is broken by a sharp wolf whistle and a leering cackle from nearby.
"Hey sister, care to share some sugar?"
Three well dressed Apuk, with what David recognized as gang markings peeking over their collars or out of their sleeves saunter through the gate, slowly spreading out.
"Told you girls I smelled a man. Cute too... So what's the slice sister, you the first wife?"
"S-Second. I'm his second wife." Ariane stutters for a second but quickly gets more confident in her tone, her powerful body tensing.
One of the toughs, a woman with poorly maintained reddish purple locks, looks at the senior tough, a woman with vibrant green hair that's clearly much better taken care of.
"...Why are you asking? We just want to have a little fun right? Make this trip up to the Imperial district worth it?"
"Yep, and all the better if sister here is willing to share. Might even make some easy credits girlie."
Ariane tenses a bit more, as her cheeks color with what David recognizes as anger. Then he notices Ariane's hand subtly going towards the controls for her shifter belt.
"Did you seriously just ask me to whore my husband out to you dirtbags?"
"Hey now, dirt bag's a mean way to put it!" The gang leader's tone takes on an oily, play acting hurt tone as the three women begin to spread out a bit more. "Might just hurt my feelings, and you know girls, when my feelings are hurt there's just about only one thing that'll really quench the fire it starts in me."
"...Bout a liter of this bitch's blood boss?" Says the redhead again, leering at Ariane as she speaks.
The gang leader's smile gets extra toothy, making her look like she was part Cannidor for a moment.
"Yep, and a couple rounds with old boy over there while she bleeds out on the stone. Hey. Call some more of the girls over, I think this might end up being a grand old time."
First Last

Here is every team ranked by how many playoff wins they have since the 2018 postseason:

Rank	Team	Playoff Wins	Playoff W%
T-1	Golden State Warriors	52	66.7%
T-1	Boston Celtics	52	55.3%
3	Milwaukee Bucks	42	58.3%
4	Miami Heat	38	57.6%
5	Denver Nuggets	33	52.4%
6	Philadelphia 76ers	32	52.5%
7	Toronto Raptors	29	56.9%
8	Phoenix Suns	27	58.7%
9	Los Angeles Lakers	26	60.5%
10	Houston Rockets	22	55.0%
11	Los Angeles Clippers	20	46.5%
12	Utah Jazz	17	42.5%
13	Dallas Mavericks	14	45.2%
T-14	Cleveland Cavaliers	13	48.1%
T-14	Atlanta Hawks	13	44.8%
16	Portland Trail Blazers	11	35.5%
17	Memphis Grizzlies	9	39.1%
18	Brooklyn Nets	8	27.6%
T-19	New Orleans Pelicans	7	46.7%
T-19	New York Knicks	7	43.8%
21	Oklahoma City Thunder	6	33.3%
T-22	San Antonio Spurs	4	33.3%
T-22	Minnesota Timberwolves	4	25.0%
T-24	Sacramento Kings	3	42.9%
T-24	Washington Wizards	3	27.3%
T-24	Indiana Pacers	3	20.0%
27	Orlando Magic	2	20.0%
28	Chicago Bulls	1	20.0%
T-29	Detroit Pistons	0	0.0%
T-29	Charlotte Hornets	0	N/A

Even if you go back to the 2014 playoffs, only the Warriors have more wins than the Celtics. Since Brad Stevens joined the organization, Boston has been one of the most consistent playoff teams in the league despite not winning a title during that time period.
Going all the way back to 1988, only 4 franchises have more playoff wins than the Celtics: Lakers, Spurs, Bulls, and Heat. All of those other teams have at least 3 championships during that time, while Boston only has 1. They are essentially the Atlanta Braves of basketball over the past 35 years. Almost always good, sometimes great, but only 1 championship to show for it all despite being in that upper tier of consistency.

My current financial loan is 25% APR with a 66 month term. I had to put my car up, and the principal balance left on the loan is 15k. I'm speaking with a credit union that offered a 60 month loan for 7.09% APR $398 full coverage (GAP, VSC, CVP). I'm currently driving a 2018 Hyundai Sonata, I drive about 80 miles a day, currently has 84k miles on it. I make about $2800 a month, 1k goes to the car expenses ($563 car payment, $300 car insurance). Other expenses goes towards rent, bills. I'm thinking of trading in my car for a new car and have the credit union take it over for the same rates. New car is a 2023 Honda Civic LX Hatchback $24,750. My car is probably worth $10k, so the remaining balance of my loan will probably go towards the new car. My question is, should I purchase the new vehicle with this new loan, or take the new loan without trading in my car. I'm more concerned about the reliability and longevity of the car as I'm needing it everyday.

Don’t buy from these people. Don’t even think about it. I bought a 2008 Honda CRV for 8,000 from them in January, and by March the dashboard lit up with engine codes. The engine was completely dead by April, about 90 days after I bought the car. After basically threatening to sue them, they reluctantly agreed to trade for a car of much less value. I eventually decided against trading in fear of getting more problems from them. I sold the car to get not even half of my money back. There is no explanation for dropping a valve randomly after doing nothing but if anything, overly maintaining this car. This was the first car I owned in 2 years and it took a long time to save up this money, doing research and careful planning for nothing and a bad attitude when I came to them with my dead car they sold me. I would stay clear of this place at all costs. This is a warning.
Here is the copy of the timeline I sent to my lawyer:
Hi Kevin,
I bought an 08 Honda Crv from Eduardo Contreras at Express Motorsports Dealership in Lawrence, Massachusetts. I’ve done nothing but try to maintain the vehicle and the engine was dead within 2 months of purchasing the car.
Here is a timeline of events.
Jan 10 2023 at 4:30pm Traveled to Lawrence, Massachusetts to look at the vehicle which is a 2008 Honda Crv ex sport utility. Was told the “total loss” on the CarFax was a mistake the insurance company made with only minor front end damage. Was told the title was always clean. After reviewing the CarFax further it appears it had both a salvage and rebuilt title issued then later corrected in “error” then a clean title was issued. Put a $500 deposit down on the vehicle. At the time the dealership had no negative reviews. However on or around the time I bought my vehicle they received many negative reviews similar to mine.
January 12 2023
Bought my insurance policy for the vehicle.
January 17 2023
Was issued a temporary license plate to transport the vehicle from the dealership to my residence.
January 18 2023
Purchased the vehicle for 8,000. Was told the purchasing contract included a 30 day warranty for the entire vehicle. Purchaser contract had no disclosure of being subject to recalls. Tmps light was only light on the dash.
January 20 2023
Registered the vehicle.
February 9th 2023
Vehicle passed state inspection.
Between February 9th and March 15th (can get exact date)
A letter was issued describing multiple airbag recalls dating back to 2016.
March 24 2023
Engine started shifting gears harder. No engine light. Oil life at 60%. Last oil change was preformed 121,500 miles. At 123,800 I preformed an oil change using the same oil that was written on the last oils change sticker. The oil life never increased.
March 26 The airbag light, check engine light, and hazardous conditions light turned on and never turned off. Developed a p303 engine code. Mechanical problems including engine misfire on cylinder 3 and a hard start. Mechanical issues never improved even after a tune up and attempting to fix all possible causes. List of what I spent to try and fix with receipts.
Spark plugs Coil packs Battery Fuel injector Tools Sea foam Oil Mass airflow cleaner Throttle body cleaner
April 3rd
Took vehicle to Honda dealership to replace airbags and have misfire diagnosed. Honda dealership declared engine failure with a dropped valve. Was quoted 3,000 to fix.
Communicated with Eddie the mechanical issues and requested compensation for selling me a dead engine. I asked questions regarding my warranty and discovered I was never given an official warranty in writing. Eddie said “ we have you a 30 day warranty on the engine and transmission only. It is in the purchase contract.” However upon inspection it was not. Asked him about the vehicle being subject to recalls and he denied that it was. This is when I discovered the odd verbiage on the CarFax about a rebuilt title issued in error after an insurance company deemed the car a total loss. Eddie agreed to give me a car of lesser value, then listed said car. Eddie insisted on communicating through voice notes and over the phone and not through text. I was not able to communicate over the phone at that time.
Arranged to trade cars on May 11th, however on Tuesday April 11, my engine started smoking and it is not safe the transport the vehicle back to Massachusetts. Also after reading a negative review about someone in my similar situation trading in a car to him, then later that car wasn’t suitable as well, I decided not to trade in. Id rather have my money back so I can purchase a safe, reliable vehicle than gamble with doing business with him again and trusting his vehicles.

This ones gonna be a long one so I'm sorry, but this is also for me to put this out into the world so I can be over it and move on with my life.
Tldr at end.
Let me give you backstory prior to meeting my ex. I was always a go getter, always had multiple things going on in life (played for a band and did local tours, did home rennovation, worked on cars, had multiple hobbies, played video games with friends etc.) And always was pushing myself to be better. 1 1/2 years before I met my now ex, I broke my neck. This hampered my lifestyle for about 3 months. My Stepdouche kicked me out of my house because I refused to put up shelving in the garage because and I quote "if you are able to play guitar you can easily put a shelf up." Mind you the day after surgery I had my parents bring me my acoustic guitar so I could make sure I still had normal function of my hands and muscles. And the doctors gave me a strict 10lb lift limit and not to raise my hands over my neck until I was healed from my fusion. Much to my and my moms pleading, the stepdouche wouldnt see it any other way.
So 3 months out of surgery I end up getting a full time job and end up working anywhere from 60-75 hours a week in the auto industry. My healing was going remarkable and I was getting my life together. Found a place to live, dumped my cheating ex, and was still playing gigs with my band and doing all my hobbies inbetween the busy workload. All seemed to be okay at this point and I seemed to be a fully functioning/never broken adult.
After about a year of this crazy workload, enter meeting my ex.
Almost 6 years ago I met my ex (July 2017). She was 19 and I was 22. For our first date I picked her up near her parents house at about 6ish. I dont remember all the details of the date, I wish I did (Ill explain soon) but theres two major things I remember. We clicked almost instantly had very similar views on life and what we expected out of eachother and ourselves. And secondly that I dropped her back off at her house at 6am. I had work in 30 minutes and that was the only reason I cut the date off.
So we started dating. Every day we would see eachother. And things went very well for a long time. I bought her food every night we would go and do things multiple times a week, and we generally had a very very healthy and good relationship. I tried to get her to come to car meets with me and my friends but she ended up just sitting in the car for hours by herself and when I would ask her to come out and hang out she would refuse. Nbd, I eventually stopped bringing her along because she was just sitting in the car. Figured that wasnt her scene so I figured id just keep that as guy time. I asked her out in early sept to be my girlfriend and she said she wasnt ready. We talked and she agreed to be exclusive to me however. A few weeks later she came back and asked me about being together and than we were official.
Our first major challenge came in January.
She went to a trade school for 2 months 4 states away. She was thankfully only gone for 2 months and I told her not to worry its only 2 months and I love her alot so Ill be right here when she got back. Thanks to my awesome boss and coworkers I planned it so I flew out to see her every 3 weeks. So she left, was alone for 3 weeks than I flew out for the weekend, than she was alone again for 3 weeks than I flew out to see her again for a weekend than she had 3 more weeks alone than she came back.
The first time I went up to visit her (it was a suprise) her mood completely shifted like she was a new person. She wasnt all lovey dovey like we had been, she was cold and distant. I chalked this up to her being alone and away frok everyone and its just part of her growth. It wasnt but well get to that.
During one of those weekend visits she took me to the shop to introduce me to her teacher and some of the other people. I remember one thing in particular happened. She was introducing me to everyone and all seemed good. The teacher was awesome, his wife was super nice and a few other older gentlemen I met were cool to talk to. Than we walk into the back of the shop and there was a guy probably 2 years older than me back there. She went up and introduced me as following "This is my friend, anon." I shook the dudes hand but he didnt seem interested in knowing me or even wanting to meet me.
Our first fight was here. I asked her why she was ashamed of calling me her BF and she had a million excuses. She was a bit eccentric (which is why I liked her) so I figured thats just the way she is. Nbd.
Now inbetween my two visits to her, I had got sent in a car from work to pick up another car and the rideshare I was in got hit and my neck fusion came loose. I essentially lost my job, lost my paycheck, lost my housing and lost all my hobbies and band over the next 2 months.
Her odd bevahior continued when she got back however and I noticed during the group photo of her class, she and the other young dude were standing close together. (Mind you I probably was over reacting given I was just cheated on but all the circumstances just seemed too much fir me at the time.) I tried to talk to her about what was going on but she was just cold and distant. I told her how I didnt appreciate being called a friend and made to seem like Im just some dude she knows and not someone who she is in a committed relationship with.
I dont remember when this conversation happened but I remember my ex finally telling me that she overheard a women giggling while I was on the phone with her the day before I left on the first trip to see her.
Long story short one of my good friends from middle/high school got a job working with me and she was kind enough to swing me by the airport on friday mornings to see her and pick me up when I got back sunday night. Thats who she heard giggling.
I told her if that was what is causing all this why didnt she talk to me about it and it could have been cleared up right away. She said she over reacted and thought it was much worse but said she can get over it (paraphrasing)
Well after that life went to crap for a while. I moved in with my grandparents. Couldnt do anything fun, couldnt take her out on the dates we used to do multiple times a week and I was in a sour mood a lot. Always in and out of doctor appointments etc. She had pulled away from me physically and it just hurt. She was still there sometimes emotionally but I felt like she just didnt physically see me as a partner.
My second surgery was in September I think. Instead of going through the front of my neck like the first time, they went through the back and my nervous system. This surgery happened about 8 months after the crash. I saw hell. No other way to describe it. 2 of the worst weeks of my life. I remember 3 very vivid things about those 2 weeks. One was literally hell. The second was a nurse aggressively rolling me on my side while I was asleep jarring me awake and sending a tremendous amount of pain throughout my body. The third was me getting up out of bed to go to the bathroom and having one of the loudest and longest farts I think Ive ever laid. I could hear people in adjacent rooms laughing. I use to have the video of this fart but I dont anymore.
This second surgery messed me up beyond belief. Physically, mentally and emotionally. The worst part is that my brain was running on like half power. Ive always been a smart guy, decently high IQ, and while memory was never a strong suit for me my memory was now nothing. Id forget things people told me just minutes after them telling me it... This was one of my biggest hurdles.
When I got home I refused pain pills and ended up throwing up blood. My ex was there by my side through this. She later told me that she was very mad at me because when I was heavily sedated for those two weeks I didnt acknowledge her. To be fair, I dont remember a single person who visited me that second surgery.
A little less than a week back from surgery I had my bearings set a little more straight and was depressed with where I was. I broke up with my ex and told her I cant provide her the life that she deserves. I was expecting pre surgery to be up and running in another 3 months like the first surgery but this was a completely different animal. I knew this wasnt going to be a quick recovery.
So I told her to go find someone better who can take care of her and her needs and spoil her like (i thought) she deserved. She begged and pleaded and after a few months I took her back because I loved her so much and if she was really willing to stick by my side than I would give her everything I could.
The recovery road was long. Little over 3 years. It took a huge toll on not only me but on my Ex. I hit new levels of depression, all my ways of letting out my emotions were now gone (playing music, drawing art, racing cars, etc) I lost my purpose in life, lost my will to push forward and overall just became super lazy about everything. I was sick of hitting rock bottom and starting iver again (this was about the 5th time Ive had to start over from nothing)
Our relationship definitely had its ups and downs during this time. For instance we went on multiple road trips to over 14 states, but she also would hold any physicalintamacy back from me for extended periods of time for seemingly no reason. She lived alone and I lived with my grandparents still. I would be over at her place at least once a week. And wed watch movies or go out and do light activity dates. Though, I was a bit of an ass and constantly would complain if something was too much or if I was in a bad mood and just didnt want to do anything.
Throughout this entire time Im fighting to get disability and settle my lawsuit with the insurance company for my injuries.
Well we hit a crossroads 2 years ago. I just got my disability and got screwed out of my backpay so I didnt have as much as I should have got.
During this time I find out my exs first BF had treated her in a way that was very forceful when they were together and commitied unalived recently. And our rocky physicallove life went nearly to zero at this point. I figured its no big deal shes just dealing with this bombshell of not ever being able to get closure and is probably just not taking it well.
I than find out my whole family was moving out of state. And my GF is highly considering moving out of state aswell. So we take another road trip because I wanted to find a place I could buy a house with a downpayment from my settlement and have a stable living situation for the first time in my life.
My exs parents had moved to a new state about a year after we started dating. So they offered to out us up while we found a place to live/rent. We had gone there a few times to visit over the years and thought that would be a good idea.
So this is where the crossroads were.
I had 3 options.
1) Build out an RV and live the nomadic wandering life I always wanted to live. (I told my ex about this many times and she seemed luke warm at best to the idea)
2) Move with my moms side of the family to State A
3) Move away from everyone I know and love to be with my GF and move to State B where I know no one.
I obviously went with 3. I spent A LOT (over half my settlement) of money moving to this state with her. She moved 2 months before I did and I drove up with her to move her. She ended up making a friend at her new job and I was happy for her because we both are pretty anti social. I got up there right before halloween. So she took me out with some coworkers on Halloween. She just sat at a table and didnt say much. Didnt introduce me to anyone and overall it was a pretty crap night.
At this point we had zero physicalintimacy in the relationship. We moved out of her parents place in 3 months and I figured that might help fix a little bit of the intimacy issues... it didnt. I suggested she see a therapist so she can work through this stuff and maybe we see a couples therapist so that we can work on us a bit more. I was still head over heels for this women and did everything I could to help her.
My depression took another turn for the worse at this point. I now had no friends. No family. I was all alone with this girl that I love that doesnt hold my hand or give me kisss on the cheeks or even a hug anymore. Id take her on dates and not even get a thanks. My already bad habits got worse. I kept pushing however to try and be better for her but it was never enough.
I am HORRIBLE at doing chores. Ever since I was a kid. I got better at them as I grew up but I aas back to a little kid by the time we were in our new place. We tried lots of things. I was working every day to be better at them and be mindful of them. I simply would just forget. Or maybe my blinders were on and I just wouldnt do them. However even if very little I was doing more and more every day. My body was giving out on me though and some days I couldnt do more than a hour before I was exhausted. She came to me a few months back and said "you need to do more " so I did. I pushed myself harder and harder. It was never enough.
Around this time she brought up that she wanted to go bear hunting with 3 of her guy co workers. I flat out said no. Not only is it innappropriate but I dont know a single one of those coworkers, dont know if she even told them shes in a relationship, and my ex is avidly against ever using a gun herself. This was a fighting point thats been getting brought up for months now. She seems to think its perfectly okay and I dont see it that way.
She always had something to tell me how I was wrong. She told me she hated that I was home all the time (we both are homebodies) she hated that I never let her go out with her co workers (I told her multiple times to go out aand hang out with them. Just let me know whats going on and occasionally invite mee out with you all so I can make some friends too) she said I never did chores even though she agreed I was doing a lot better and picking uo my slack. It just hurt a lot because I feeel like I absolutely had things I needed to work on but at least I was putting in the effort. Meanwhile she has never once tried to fix our physical love side which is the ONLY thing I have ever asked of her.
Well a month ago she broke up with me. I begged and pleaded that we could make it work but she was set on it. The next day I caught her on a backroad going on a date with a guy. She swears "its just dinner with a co worker." She did this 3 days before I had a trip for my Bday back to my home state. Long story short my trip that should have been about $1.2k and 2 weeks long ended up costing me $4.5k and I cut it short to get home.
When I get home I find other guys laundry in my house... than I find out my now ex doesnt come home until 4am drunk. (This really makes me mad because shes been curious about drinking and weed and I told her we could do it so she hhas a safe place at home to get as crazy as she wants. She always had a excuse why she didnt want to do it.) At this point im livid. Its clear shes been setting up another relationship/fwb situation and just stringing me along. Theres a lot of details that have happened over the last month but its mostly just her saying "we might work out but you have to leave the house for me to find out."
I also find out that she got a therapist and did everything I had asked of her for the past 2+ years the second she broke up with me.
My heart was broken. Im completely alone. I got no where to go. Every night now she is out til 2am with this dude, going on dates and even sleeping over at his place multiple times a week. She also is trying to kick me out of the house although we agreed that she would move out since I have 9 vehicles and the place we are staying is on mulitple acres. She flipped this and got her parents involved and they are all now trying to kick me out of the house. Even though her parents have more than enough room for her to stay with them for a while. But nope Im the bad guy and I need to move. And trust me, I want to move but sadly theres nowhere to rent. In a 60 mile radius there is 1 rental. Yes just one. All apartments waiting lists are 1 1/2 years +. My life is in shambles and I now have to start over once again.
Theres two major things that came up in our conversations over this past month that really completely destroyed me. 1) I was only 19 when we got together I shouldnt be locked down by you and stuck with you. 2) I dont date my best friend, and you never were my best friend.
Tldr
I know a lot was said in here but there also was a lot not said. Im not a perfect person. No one is. We all have our flaws. And I made many mistakes in this relationship. But I also own up to those which my Ex never would admit she ever did anything wrong. But If you made it this far I just want you to know. If you see red flags stop ignoring them. Do NOT move your entire life for someone and most importantly give up your material possessions.
Im just so devistated about how quick she moved on like a light switch and how awful she is being to me and how Im stuck here in this house while she already is shagging up with another person. It just really hurts and theres nothing I can do about it. I know this is for best in the long run. And we never would have worked out. But that doesnt stop it from hurting this bad. I just wish I didnt uproot my life for her and give her as much energy as I did.

Don’t buy from these people. Don’t even think about it. I bought a 2008 Honda CRV for 8,000 from them in January, and by March the dashboard lit up with engine codes. The engine was completely dead by April, about 90 days after I bought the car. After basically threatening to sue them, they reluctantly agreed to trade for a car of much less value. I eventually decided against trading in fear of getting more problems from them. I sold the car to get not even half of my money back. There is no explanation for dropping a valve randomly after doing nothing but if anything, overly maintaining this car. This was the first car I owned in 2 years and it took a long time to save up this money, doing research and careful planning for nothing and a bad attitude when I came to them with my dead car they sold me. I would stay clear of this place at all costs. This is a warning.
Here is the copy of the timeline I sent to my lawyer:
Hi Kevin,
I bought an 08 Honda Crv from Eduardo Contreras at Express Motorsports Dealership in Lawrence, Massachusetts. I’ve done nothing but try to maintain the vehicle and the engine was dead within 2 months of purchasing the car.
Here is a timeline of events.
Jan 10 2023 at 4:30pm Traveled to Lawrence, Massachusetts to look at the vehicle which is a 2008 Honda Crv ex sport utility. Was told the “total loss” on the CarFax was a mistake the insurance company made with only minor front end damage. Was told the title was always clean. After reviewing the CarFax further it appears it had both a salvage and rebuilt title issued then later corrected in “error” then a clean title was issued. Put a $500 deposit down on the vehicle. At the time the dealership had no negative reviews. However on or around the time I bought my vehicle they received many negative reviews similar to mine.
January 12 2023
Bought my insurance policy for the vehicle.
January 17 2023
Was issued a temporary license plate to transport the vehicle from the dealership to my residence.
January 18 2023
Purchased the vehicle for 8,000. Was told the purchasing contract included a 30 day warranty for the entire vehicle. Purchaser contract had no disclosure of being subject to recalls. Tmps light was only light on the dash.
January 20 2023
Registered the vehicle.
February 9th 2023
Vehicle passed state inspection.
Between February 9th and March 15th (can get exact date)
A letter was issued describing multiple airbag recalls dating back to 2016.
March 24 2023
Engine started shifting gears harder. No engine light. Oil life at 60%. Last oil change was preformed 121,500 miles. At 123,800 I preformed an oil change using the same oil that was written on the last oils change sticker. The oil life never increased.
March 26 The airbag light, check engine light, and hazardous conditions light turned on and never turned off. Developed a p303 engine code. Mechanical problems including engine misfire on cylinder 3 and a hard start. Mechanical issues never improved even after a tune up and attempting to fix all possible causes. List of what I spent to try and fix with receipts.
Spark plugs Coil packs Battery Fuel injector Tools Sea foam Oil Mass airflow cleaner Throttle body cleaner
April 3rd
Took vehicle to Honda dealership to replace airbags and have misfire diagnosed. Honda dealership declared engine failure with a dropped valve. Was quoted 3,000 to fix.
Communicated with Eddie the mechanical issues and requested compensation for selling me a dead engine. I asked questions regarding my warranty and discovered I was never given an official warranty in writing. Eddie said “ we have you a 30 day warranty on the engine and transmission only. It is in the purchase contract.” However upon inspection it was not. Asked him about the vehicle being subject to recalls and he denied that it was. This is when I discovered the odd verbiage on the CarFax about a rebuilt title issued in error after an insurance company deemed the car a total loss. Eddie agreed to give me a car of lesser value, then listed said car. Eddie insisted on communicating through voice notes and over the phone and not through text. I was not able to communicate over the phone at that time.
Arranged to trade cars on May 11th, however on Tuesday April 11, my engine started smoking and it is not safe the transport the vehicle back to Massachusetts. Also after reading a negative review about someone in my similar situation trading in a car to him, then later that car wasn’t suitable as well, I decided not to trade in. Id rather have my money back so I can purchase a safe, reliable vehicle than gamble with doing business with him again and trusting his vehicles.

I need some help. I run a marketing agency and I have been white labeling for another agency for adwords. They just informed me that they were going to take over their own adwords and asked me to transfer the account. Can anyone help explain how to do that?
Things to note:

• We have about 60 total clients running under our MCC (15 of them belong to this agency) I obviously want to make sure I don't accidentally bulk transfer or send over one of our accounts by mistake
• We own all of the payment profiles and our card is being charged (we invoice them the total)
  • Even though I've added their card as the primary, Google will not let me remove my card from the account any suggestions on this?
• The clients are set up as individual ad accounts each running multiple campaigns.

​
I believe this will take more than just adding them as an admin because we want to get this removed from our MCC all together
Would appreciate any input or things to look for!

Currently I have an associates degree, 60 credits, and a few science classes under my belt. All done for free on a scholarship. I was able to pass Calc 1 after 4 attempts, and when I passed I got a high A.
​
I have just been getting burned out at school to the point where I physically can't be in the classroom, and I am having meltdowns in the middle of the night (something that hasn't happened for years). I agree with my mother that I can do the math, in theory, but I find the classes move far too fast for me, and I really struggle with the tests even when given extra time. I also find that it is difficult to put in the constant effort over a long period of time. Like I can't lock myself in my room and do math for 6-8 hours strait, and I must work a part time job as part of my rent to my mother.
​
I scored very high on the math portion of the SAT, being a majority of my 1300 score. I have gotten an A in every single math class I have ever attended and I got A's in the college level prerequisites for calculus. I also decided to peruse engineering because my high-school level physics class was the most enjoyable class I ever took and I scored number 1 in my state for the standardized physics test.
​
I have been told it get's easier, but I don't really know where to go from here. I really don't know if I'm cut out for the workload.

Currently I have an associates degree, 60 credits, and a few science classes under my belt. All done for free on a scholarship. I was able to pass Calc 1 after 4 attempts, and when I passed I got a high A.
​
I have just been getting burned out at school to the point where I physically can't be in the classroom, and I am having meltdowns in the middle of the night (something that hasn't happened for years). I agree with my mother that I can do the math, in theory, but I find the classes move far too fast for me, and I really struggle with the tests even when given extra time. I also find that it is difficult to put in the constant effort over a long period of time. Like I can't lock myself in my room and do math for 4-6 hours strait, and I must work a part time job as part of my rent to my mother.
​
I scored very high on the math portion of the SAT, being a majority of my 1300 score. I have gotten an A in every single math class I have ever attended and I got A's in the college level prerequisites for calculus. I also decided to peruse engineering because my high-school level physics class was the most enjoyable class I ever took and I scored number 1 in my state for the standardized physics test.
​
I have been told it get's easier, but I don't really know where to go from here. I really don't know if I'm cut out for the workload.

TIMESTAMP: https://imgur.com/a/T5u1cds
Lamzu Atlantis Mini Polar White: Bought like new from another user on here, didn't end up using it unfortunately, comes with all grips except left applied, and large skates applied, everything else comes in the box - 80 shipped CONUS
G-Wolves HTX Ace (No Holes) - comes with g pro wireless corepads, missing stock grips and skates, in excellent condition - 85 shipped CONUS
White GPX - magnets taken out but included in box, comes with g pro wireless corepads, in excellent condition, no grips - 85 shipped CONUS
Puretrak P-51 - used for about 2 days, tried putting the base cover back on but has some air bubbles in the picture but the pad lays perfectly flat on my desk which you can see here: https://imgur.com/a/YFTb1at - 35 shipped CONUS
Artisan Raiden FX XSoft XL - great condition, feels like new - 40 shipped CONUS
Local to san jose for any meetups, although prices will be the same
Thanks!

Hey yall, here's some basic information about me so you better recommend cars
-Im an 18yo going into college in New Jersey, and I will be using this car to commute 15 miles total everyday. We get a moderate amount of snow over here in the winter as well. -my parents are buying me this car. 12-25k is the budget, but preferably lower.
-here is my criteria, but most things Im willing to change. Im not very picky, I just want something fun.
Make: Doesn't matter
Type of car: Sedans > Convertible> Coupe> Wagons
Reliability and Practicality: Im willing to sacrifice some Reliability and practicality for fun but not a lot. I do not want a deathtrap car either which is known for being unsafe.
Age: Has to newer than 1997
Transmission: Parents want an Auto, I want a manual.
MPG: Can be low but ideally not below 18 (Im paying for gas anyways, so it MPG isnt all that important to me)
Power: Betweeb 250-500hp. I dont want to accidentally kill myself.
Engine: It doesnt really matter to me, but Id prefer something with 6 cylinders. 8 is fine but a little much. I say this because of insurance premiums.
Modding: Ive done some work on cars before but I wouldnt say I know exacrly what Im doing either. I want something that can be tuned and modded in the future once I have the money, something that can help me learn more.
I know that sounds like a lot or that Im picky but it really doesnt matter to me. As long as Im not driving something like a 2013 Corolla who's sole purpose is to get me from point A to point B. I want something that had some fun and performance without being overkill. I dont know what that might entail. Ive been looking at a lot of different cars, from Camry's to M cars. I love the idea of a BRz but Ive driven one and its underpowered for my tastes. I was thinking a Wrx, Evo X, E90 335i, Gen 4 mustang, an amg car, any Audi really, G35/37/Q50/60, a Panamera, or an old E39 M5, and many many others. Let met know thoughts and recommendations yall. I have a wide range.

Hi! (On mobile obligatory apology) In December of last year, I dropped out of college after a semester because 1 I didn’t know what I wanted to do and 2 it’s expensive asl. I am now in 13000 dollars worth of debt :D I’m choosing to ignore that right now tho and focus on my more urgent problem. When I dropped out of college, my mom kicked me out (my parents are separated) so I had to resort to living with my boyfriend and his family (thank god for them). Living with my dad is not an option because he abused me throughout my childhood. Over my dead body would I ever live there again. I don’t have a job since I had to quit the one I had for college and my dad took away my car because I “wasn’t using it for the right reasons” (I literally only used it to go to work and his house). I have applied to over 60 remote jobs in the past 2 months and either they haven’t gotten back to me or rejected me. I love my boyfriend but his family is unbelievably problematic, so much so that it’s cause a major decline in my mental health. I already have a list of apartments I’d send applications to once I have the money for it, I just need help with what to do. I don’t have reliable transportation so remote jobs are my only option and my mental heath is gonna crash if I don’t get out of this house soon. I realize that was really messy but that’s how my thoughts feel at the moment lol. Any advice you can give me will help more than anyone in my life has. Thank you for reading :)

I'm 51. I've been weight training semi-consistently for 5 years. I used to attempt training in my 20s and 30s, but not enough knowledge, poor nutrition, overtraining, injury and discouraging results.
So my situation now is a basic stocked gym in my garage. Tough in the cold and top of summer, but the convenience outways any discomforts. I slow up a little in the weather extremes.
I suppose I've learned some things and maybe my training is getting refined and more effective. I'm moving some heavy weight this year for some reason; I'm excited about it and I want to continue progressing.
The sad thing that I just read (and can't relocate the article for reference) is that some university study determined that young people tear muscle and build NEW muscle during recovery, versus old people tear muscle and recover stronger and increase current muscle size, but never build any new muscle. It saddens me. I really feel like I'm progressing, and I'd like to hit a 500lb deadlift and a 4 plate squat over the next few years. It just doesn't seem logical if there is a point in age where no new muscle is created.
Bah humbug. Hopefully some 60+ year old powerlifter that just started a few years ago will jump in and tell me about his/her 1200lb three lift total and cheer me up.