strange-nicnac95

Wow! The first episode of a new game show, and we’re the first guests. We’re going to be famous! If they air the pilot and solidify their place in a timeslot, I can brag about being on tv for the rest of my life. My best friend, Lindsey, is appearing too. We’re supposed to be a team, but they’ve taken her to a different dressing room separate from mine. I was given a survey to complete, so I guess it’s to make sure that we don’t cheat. The only thing I know is that we’re supposed to answer questions about each other to prove we’re best friends. The producers asked me for my clothing sizes, and when I gave them to them, they told me they would have special clothing for me to wear during the show. I don’t get it, they’re just a regular tank top and shorts. I could’ve brought this from my personal closet, but I assume they have their reasons. A knock on the door snaps me out of my inner thoughts. A PA pokes his head into my room. “Jake, sir? They’re asking me to check if you’ve

Another call from your landlord flashes on your phone screen, making you feel queasy again just like the call that came through this afternoon. You let it ring away just like before, and when the call gets pushed, your headache reaches a stinging peak when you see that he’s left you a voicemail. You already know what it’s about, but you’re still morbidly curious as to what he has to say. You click the voicemail and listen in. “C’mon, I know what you’re trying to do. You said by Friday you guys would have the rent money for this month and the last. I gave you a buffer, I didn’t have to, but I did. Either CashApp me or put some bills in my hand by Sunday morning. I don’t want to have to ask you to leave, but I will if you keep taking advantage.” It’s short but still nerve-racking. The last time you checked your wallet, you didn’t even have three-quarters of the first month’s bill ready. You’ve been doing the best you could with bringing home some income, but you haven’t landed a

I’d be lying to say that Katey doesn’t have a pull for baby-sitter sexiness. She’s a full eleven years older than me, but all vixens like her seem to stay gorgeous for their whole lives. Truth be told, I’m starting to enjoy it when she calls me a twerp. “You’re so dead when I get out of here. I’m going straight to your parents with this, Zak, I promise. Let me go!” Even when she’s lost, she still thinks she’s in charge. I have her done up in a restraining apparatus. She kneels on a cushioned pad, legs together, while her arms are stretched above her head and linked together at the forearms with a powerful cuff, arching her back at a slight angle. This way, her armpits are taut and fully exposed. Her feet are locked behind her in sturdy stocks that lift them just slightly off of the floor so that her toes hover a couple of inches above it. Her shoes are still on; I can’t wait to slip off those old Converse. “My parents? The ones you’ve never even met before?” “Just undo these

Day 73: Planet Thucara Exploration Current Mission: Research/Study local carbon-based lifeforms Current Staff: Dr. Ethan Millard/ Dr. Morioka Kiri We’ve been watching this creature for three weeks using the habitat field cameras. It uses quadrupedal locomotion to get around its hilly environment. Its body is covered in thin, grey fur like a short-haired dog would have. “It looks uncomfortable,” Dr. Kiri says to me. The creature is contained in our harness. Its four limbs and locked into cuffs, the hindlegs are completely immobile, its forelegs are stretched over its head to expose as much of the torso as we possibly can without hurting it. “All research on this particular specimen reveals it is capable of flexible positions. It is doing fine. What does the vitals monitor say?” She bends down to watch a screen in the center of the console. “As far as we can see, it isn’t experiencing pain, but it’s releasing an excess of cortisol.” “Stressed? Of course, it would be. We

Did you know that your favorite video game characters can feel things that you force them to experience? That if we get hurt in the game we actually feel it and are hypnotized into carrying on? No, the pain doesn’t last long, but it is there. I hope next time you show mercy to us by letting us sit down while you go to the bathroom, or at least find us a warm spot to wait. My name is Anunabi, a female Khajiit character created for the Elder Scrolls Online lobbies. My player and I have gotten very far in the game, and I feel an attachment to them as we both experience this grand world around us---growing together and loving each step of the way. As we are trying to claim the Master Angler achievement in Reaper’s March, my player has logged me off while standing near a river next to a feisty fishing spot. I have to wait around and endure the heat of this land until they decide to come back and play with me some more. At least they left me under the shade of a small bridge. I watch

A quick equipment check revealed that the sword has a crack along the middle of the blade. That iron clash was barely blocked, but with a crack this size, I won’t trust the steel to take another hit at all. I call Ryunen who is slightly ahead of me. “Circle back, we need a blacksmith.” “What? We must already be two miles away by now, travelling back would be a huge waste of daylight.” “Then risk the blade to be shattered in the next fight. Repairing it after it’s in pieces, or buying a new sword entirely is going to be more expensive than fixing it now. Assuming we’d live after one of us can’t fight.” He looks ahead at the road untraveled. “Maybe we won’t run into anyone on the way to the next resting town.” “A fool’s fantasy.” “Shut it. If you want to head back on your own you may do so. I’m not repeating the same scenery again, I’m going on with or without you.” “What if I get attacked on the way back? What if you run into a bandit hideout without help? What if I do

"My feet are so sore, maybe we should've rested longer in Saarik. Can we sit in the grass for a moment?" "You're usually more athletic than I. Why so tired suddenly? Are you feeling sick again?" S'ren plops onto the side of the road, throws her pack off of her, and waits for me to join her. "I'm not tired, it's just soreness. In my feet. Like I said." I take my place by her side. "Okay, we'll sit for a while. Did you want something to eat as well?" She shakes her head and unlaces her boots. "No, I just need these puppies to breathe for a bit." She pops a boot off, and even though we sit outside in open air, her powerful scent still finds its way to my nose. "Ahh, oh gosh that feels better. So much better." I clench my nose shut with my fingers to pretend that I can't bear it. "It certainly doesn't smell better. You're killing the foliage." In her typical fashion, but certainly not what I was expecting, she shoves her foot in my face. The brutal scent overtakes my bearings

I took The Keeper off and let it sit in my room. There’s no self-cleaning module, and the blood drying on the tentacle arms makes the whole space smell horrible. I clean it with hot water, soap, disinfectant, all-purpose cleaners, and anything else I could get my hands on. The smell doesn’t go away, it’s sunken into my bedsheets, my posters, and my walls. Cheq was right, this thing is pure evil. I scrub and scrub, my gloves are spotted with red streaks. I can hear this thing laughing at me, telling me that I’m not strong enough to wear it ever again. I had no idea that I wasn’t going to be able to pick what targets to take out. It just automatically detects threats and goes after them. The only reason my team is still alive is that they threw their blasters away from them. The Keeper didn’t see them as a threat, but Bouncer kept clutching his, and he paid for it. God, it stinks! I’m scrubbing so hard that Cheq’s paint job is coming off, and that somehow is still not enough. My

Planet Venumaris-NN4, that’s what I wake up to when I glance out of my viewing window from my bedroom. Malware’s home planet, it’s strange that this will be the second time I visit it all in less than a week and none of it is for sightseeing. Malware (Intercom): “Dress warmly, everyone, we’ll be heading for the frozen side of Venumaris in the mountains.” Here I sit with no shirt, an image of ice shards and deep snow causing my skin to be riddled with bumps. I hate the cold, all the pain I get becomes twofold with biting winds nipping at me. I’ll need to make sure that my thermal wear is fully charged, don’t want it running out of juice mid-blizzard. I get fully dressed, oversized trenchcoat jacket included, but before I head to the hangar bay, a neatly wrapped package laying in the corner stops me from leaving. I must’ve been so tired not to have heard someone coming into my room. I place it on my bed and unwrap it. Clearly, this came from Cheq. It’s ready… That’s all

The precarious parley room is the deadliest room installed on the Motely. It’s not the first time we’ve had enemies board our ship in the pursuit of friendly negotiations, and in order to make sure nothing dastardly is tempted during these neutral debates, we use the parley room. It forces everyone to behave themselves, including us. The cigarette’s end burns bright as I inhale the smoke deep and breathe it out above our heads. I can see the strange looks from my team, they are certain that I don’t smoke, but I usually take a quick puff in privacy to settle my nerves. “How are we going to handle this?” Knight asks, batting away some of the smoke that wafted his way. I take another drag. “What do they want exactly?” He shrugs. “They didn’t say. I guess they’ll be laying everything on the table during the meeting. It’s no secret that one topic is going to be about Bouncer. Are you ready to give him up if it comes to it?” “Hey,” Bouncer says while pointing a wrapped fist at

The night sky lacks visible stars due to the city’s light pollution. Still, all the neon billboards standing at skyscraper heights and multicolor windows of businesses and apartment complexes make it beautiful nonetheless. It even makes Malware’s metal shine a little brighter, a little different. I remember the Vemalite book telling me that it’s near impossible to tell what a Vemmy might be feeling at the moment since all of them are drastically different from each other frame-wise. If you want to read their emotions, you just have to get to know them and learn their specific ways of showing sadness, anger, and embarrassment. To me, Malware looks like he’s content, maybe the equivalent of a smile. But why at such a bad time? Maybe I’m not as perceptive as I think I am. “Any luck filtering Bouncer’s signal?” I ask. I hold his hand as I maneuver us on the sidewalk. Doesn’t matter how late it gets in Xesowah, the crowds never thin out. Too much to do, and too many distractions to go

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five ships spread out and hang around the Motley like hungry hyenas waiting for the lion to leave some scraps. Their ships look fierce and fast, and the paint job is impressive. No slacking in this fight, I don't want to take the chance that they might be good at combat too. As for our side? One. Two. Three. Four. And now, five. We line up the same way they are, and for now, we just stare at each other waiting for the first sight of a photon blast. I still don't trust Bouncer one bit to actually stay and fight, but with my team having my back, I don't think we'll even need him. Mason Grey (Public): "C'mon, Nev, let's just hold our fire for a moment. I see Bouncer right there, I know that paint job. Just have him fly over, and we'll be off and out of your hair in a flash." Nev (Public): "I don't enjoy repeating myself. Bouncer isn't going anywhere. You should leave while you still have all your teammates." Mason Grey (Public): "That line is actually

All systems are as good as they're going to get. Ammo is ready, shields are charged, and hulls are pristine. Even with all this in mind, everyone seems to be waiting around with heavy sweat and queasy stomachs. Maybe it's just me. "How much longer until the next attack?" I hear Knight ask Malware. "We've still got some time. It'll be another sixteen hours before we're pinged again." Cheq continues to type away at his terminal; a screen of incomprehensible codes litters his display. Incomprehensible to me, probably 3rd-grade literature for him. "If we had another techie in our little band of merry men, we'd also be able to work on intercepting that stupid ping, or at least find out what it is they're tracking and shoot it out into deep space." Bouncer raises his left arm, showing off his PVD. "Maybe it's this fuckin' thing." Cheq shakes his head. "Doubtful. Even if it was, it's not like we can just get rid of it. We need that thing for just about every action we take. It wouldn't

The Motley hums to life as all ships dock into the hangar. Even though it's not true at the moment, I feel safe at last behind the impenetrable shields and heavy guns. I have the team pile into the command deck immediately, I'm not too keen on wasting even a single second after these attacks. Everyone stands in a circle with the exception of Knight who takes a seat in his usual navigational chair. I hope those Hunters didn't give him a hard time. Two professionals aren't enough to take on Knight in a straight fight, but he's climbing in age, I don't want all this stress weighing him down. "One day. Only one day in Xesowah. Bummer," Cheq complains. "I'm sorry the direct threat to your life isn't a good enough reason to cut vacation short. From this point on, we stick together until otherwise advised. Now that we know we're being directly tracked somehow, splitting up is suicide," I explain. Knight stretches out a leg. "So we know we're being tracked, and we know that every

As Malware drags me out of the giant dome by hand, my gut tells me that even at this speed, there's a blaster pointed to the back of my head. I'd turn to check if I didn't think a slight adjustment would crack my neck in two. When I finally see some natural light from the sun, I'm brave enough to whip out of his grip and throw my hand down to my holstered blaster. I don't draw, not yet. I just check around us, check the speeding lines going in and out, check behind us, check for eyes looking right at us. It's hard to tell what a Vemmy might be looking at, their eyes aren't the easiest to read. I keep my hand on the grip of my blaster, but I raise my left arm to talk into my PVD. Nev (Group): "Cheq, Knight, report!" Cheq (Group): "Boss." Knight (Group): "Sir?" Nev (Group): "Keep guard! You're currently being tracked right now! I need you two to make it to the Motley as soon as you can. You see anyone trailing you, dispatch them, no questions asked. Got it?" Cheq (Group):

When I woke up this morning, I was greeted by a pair of dimly lit digital eyes scanning me from the other side of the room. I wonder if Malware is able to take in data just from staring at things. Why would he want to do that to me? He should already know what carbon entities are made of, humans are plenty in this galaxy. Speaking of humans, there's a surprisingly large number of them in this city built for Vemalites. They walk all over, eating street food and using public toilets. Vemalites only eat for fun, and I've never seen Malware enter a bathroom unless it was to assault someone while working a contract. "I know this cute breakfast place," he tells me as we casually stroll through the busy side lanes. The traffic around here actually seems slower, but the cars are the same concept as on planet Paxes. "Cute?" I ask. My boot lands in a puddle of something, and I know it's not water. Water is clear, this is some strange tint of green and brown. I don't know if I should be

"I don't believe it," Cheq says, "how could this have happened right under our noses?" His hands tremble over his keyboard as he sifts through the active rosters for certified mercenary outfits. The stack of files we've carefully put together is no longer accurate, that is, if this digital measurement is telling the truth. "Gauss Beam: Decommissioned, Light Year: Decommissioned, Heat Wave: Decommissioned, N-TCK: Decommissioned. This is impossible," he continues. "Something tells me they didn't all decide to just quit at the same time." "It's those Hunters," Knight says, banging a fist on a nearby table and rattling the monitors, "they've made a target out of the mercs in this galaxy. We didn't notice because we were too busy pretending that this wasn't a big problem." Cheq swivels in his chair to face me, his expression is heavy with fear. "What are we going to do? Is there anything we can do? Nev?" I tap my chin. "Don't freak out just yet. There's no proof that these outfits were