Amidst the sea of concrete snow that the stage had become, egged on by Agnes’ unusual encore request that Metra had agreed to, the killing intent of the self-styled villain and master mixologist had won out against the comparable brutality of the affable mercenary who had tried to take his life with just as much brutality. The crowd, though annoyed by being utterly doused in carbonated everything, literally tossed around, literally watching their fellow partygoers exsanguinated and turned into meat puppets, did not allow it to ruin their fun, cheering on for Metra and her eclectic song choices. Agnes hopped off the makeshift surfboard he’d constructed, his opponent cut to pieces and speared and speared to hell, and it a testament to the sheer resilience of Guy-Manuel Mota that, even in such a gored, pulverized state, his opponent wondered if he was actually dead. Regardless, he wasn’t getting back up, or reassembling, or pulling any more surprises or attempts to play possum. Realizing that it was over, Agnes was shaking. Breathing heavily. Hints of tears started to form in his eyes… but before he had a chance to cry, he arched back, laughing into a sea of concrete snow. He’d won again. “There you go, Metra, your show is saved or whatever,” he said with a mocking flippancy as she left the crowd to meet him backstage, “and I didn’t even kill any of these guys who paid to see you… They’ll just have to deal with sticky-wet clothes and some broken limbs.” “Can’t believe this happened again… And I just had no choice but to keep singing and dancing.” Metra rubbed her hands on her arms, shaking her head. “I’m sick of this shit… I thought it was all almost over, but it’s just going to be forever in this city, huh?” “Probably,” Agnes said, still half-laughing through a strained face, “just a constant, encroaching wave of ‘despair’ every waking moment… Way I see it, either you ride that shit as far as you can, or you let yourself drown. Doesn’t make a difference to me which you do.” He glanced up at the ceiling then, cupping his hands. “Hey, fuckers! I won now! I beat the guy you sent! Get on the biggering or I’ll burn your casino down again!” The game had, in fact, been won, and Agnes and Metra were the first to start to be free of its grasp, along with the spiked and bloodied separated bits of Guy, still pulsating ambiguously. “He’s out for blood.” Tigran declared, warning the others Entertainment District highrollers observing, as he produced a deck of cards. “My Stand can’t hold him at that size much longer… But this whole place is about to be flooded with people, too. Duck into somewhere, and get away in the confusion.” He spoke authoritatively, and even his sole superior, Fox, complied with his wishes after an urgent glance. “I… I’ll come for you! I promise I will!” Tigran didn’t hear much more of that, then, beyond the sounds of Pork Soda’s Stand cry amplified by sonic boosts courtesy of Metra Doria. He fought impressively with little more than a deck of cards, but even then, could only buy his friends the seconds they needed to get away, live to gamble another day. Tigran “Golden” Sins, User of ‘The Grid Retired! Face broken in nearly a dozen places by Agnes and TD/MD, the 48 year-old owner of Heartache Casino would be very quickly interned at Red Clay penitentiary, Metra insisting that her ally not kill him. As thousands of confused concertgoers suddenly grew to full size and began to flood the halls of the Alexander Dickinson Amphitheater, the rest of his accomplices were able to escape the authorities yet again. Despite his extremely infamous protectiveness towards his face, he almost seemed to wear the damage with pride, knowing that this time, it represented having allowed the only man he considered greater than himself to run free yet again. Red Clay Penitentiary - Industrial District “Well, well, well, isn’t this a small world now? Tigran Sins, now in my care… Certainly less of a looker than I’d heard.” A dark-wavy-haired twenty-something sat snickering in the warden’s big swivel-chair, clad in a sleeveless velvet minidress, what of her flesh was exposed covered in flickering tattoos resembling closed eyes, flanked by uncanny-looking guards. “You don’t know me, but I’ve certainly heard of you… Of how you treated someone I hold dear very cruelly. Don’t you understand we’re all Stand Users trying to live our best life, Mr. Golden? I’m not the one who hurt you and threw you in here, and you’re not the one who said that I needed to be kept half-starved at all times so I couldn’t create anything.” “Wh… Wait. Who the hell’re you?” “Did my sweetheart never mention me, or do you just not pay attention to anyone but you and yours?” She leaned forward, bridging her fingers together. “I’m Palmer. I was a drama teacher at a small-town high school, but they kept overfunding football, one thing led to another, and now… I’ve got some serious vision.” Tigran would be the last inmate admitted to Red Clay before a coup months in the making finally came to fruition. Hey, yeah, Palmer! Remember that fun NPC? She was dating Mr. Jones and killed four people for him! Anyway, yeah, adjacent to him, an all-out meanspirited brawl in a sewer is taking place, feat. two chaotic clowns and two very frustrated young women. What rotten luck this had been. That leak, now of all days, when Being So Normal, Cairo Satori’s pet project that they had been slaving away at ever since setting foot in this series, had the deals with the devil that it had been built upon from the very beginning exposed for the world to see, and the city, which had loved every second of it before, had now been divided sharply between the loyal fans remaining and those protesting the entire thing, demanding the resignation of their producer, the cancellation of a show which had been picked up by so many streaming platforms, had already begun to make so much for the people who had made a livelihood of it all. With the connection to Andrew Tiffany’s demise, even the oh-so-loyal Purple Flying Man resigned with only a short argument, and even the damage control removal of Caroline Jeffords, responsible for the worst of it, did little to contain the fact that Cairo knew about this, and Cairo allowed this to proceed nonetheless. What, were they going to just throw it all away at the last minute? Ruin lives, tank companies, get how many people laid off? All over the failures of those close to them? Of course not. “Cairo, dear,” the voice of that ever-troublesome producer, Million Dollars, muttered into a cell phone for them, “I’m going to need to go under the radar for awhile… People are beginning to look into my own affairs as well. But know that, as always, no matter what, you have my support. This show isn’t just a cash cow, Cairo… It’s an example. An example for the world to look to, and something for Stand Users to aspire to be better. I know you’re probably mad at us as well, but… You know that, don’t you?” “Dollars… You’ve got a lot of nerve, trying to plead with me right now,” Cairo answered, tense in what had been their green room, sitting in the mall their producer had owned, “we definitely need to talk about our future… But we need to have one, too. Of course the show must go on… Nothing’s gonna jeopardize that!” Free Viper Strip Mall, Suburban District In recent times, the atmosphere at Free Viper was… somewhat dire. In fact, it had been on a rapid decline since that fateful day a couple months ago when Bert hijacked a ritual meant to challenge fate and did so, while murdering tens of thousands of people and injuring far more than that at the same time. Actually, Black Knight Penitentiary Album’s death and the realization that Remix was a serial killer came before that and weren’t very uplifting either, but what Bert did was somewhat hard to top. Either way, the realization that he found one of the most morally bankrupt groups of people to team up with in Los Fortuna was one that Arthur Lifeson had reached not too long ago, and though it was somewhat of a painful thing to come to terms with, he had no choice but to do so and simply carry on. Bert had died, and the least Arthur could do from here on out would be to do his best to assist the city of Los Fortuna and bring justice to those who deserved it. The city certainly needed it, given all that was occurring right now. For all the time Arthur spent in the city, he hadn’t gotten enough of note done yet… but that was soon to change. He had a plan in mind, one that would help keep the city and the world of stand users as a whole from devolving into further chaos. Before he could put it in place, however, he’d have to get some help. Los Fortuna Shopping District, Sweet FA Mall - The Next Day Nix Ripa had been in this city for months now, and in that time, all he had done was tear down walls, break buildings, break people who had dared to step all over the safety of others, of those too weak to bend fate to their whims. It was despicable to him, and the icy Stand User was seething with hot rage. Those without the power to change the world themselves were pitiable, in their ways, yet at once, he knew they were not above help… That they needed to be driven higher, reach for the stars rather than wave to the heroes they saw in them! When Arthur Lifeson discovered and contacted him, he did not hesitate to make his way to the megamall in which this was all set to culminate. Rather than in the comfortable solitude of the Black Hill Estate, where he could train without disruption, he’d even spent the night in an alley nearby, wanting to be able to spring out first thing in the morning! When he did, then, as if on schedule, the older bearded man who had requested his help stood at the foot of Sweet FA, looking himself quite regal with that increasingly modified Medieval Times getup. “Sir Ripa… It is an honor to meet in person, with yet another warrior of great acclaim.” “Heh… I’ve seen you around,” Nix answered, stretching off the sleeping-on-a-dumpster aches and forcing out his hand, which Arthur, in turn, grabbed firmly, the pair locking fingers tightly and staring one another down intensely. “Did a damn fine number on those guys at this very mall awhile back… And it takes some guts to drive out into the Middle Finger for any reason! The mountains are where I do my most intense training of all!” “Aye, I regrettably was fooled into following the glorious allure of Being So Normal… I lack even your good reason, of how you and your fallen brother-in-arms, Sir Rains, apprehended a true villain in the process of this fight, and even a black knight who would have put a past companion of mine to shame with her depravity.” He looked towards the space and shuddered. “The show, it refused to show the truth, but the wounds from that grueling battle, the burns… They were excruciating. That witch Jeffords, nothing she’s touched can be trusted as a truth to show the world.” “So we’re in agreement then!” Nix said, finally letting the handshake go as Arthur’s hand began to grow numb, rolling his arms around and turning to face Sweet FA. “I looked into this place, their mission statement, their show, their producer… Set a good example my ass! They just want the whole damn world to think there’s nothing better than being a Stand User! That the ground we walk on should be kissed just for what we’ve got! Well… I’m no goddamn celebrity!” “Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Arthur agreed, “and this mockery… It will not do good for the world to learn of us this way. A knight’s honor is not something we seek for glory, for congratulation, but because there is no greater purpose than to slay evil, to protect those who cannot for themselves!” “Heh… I like you. After this, we’re sparring ‘til one of us can’t move!” Nix led the way in there, then, Arthur feeling pause for a moment at the sheer intensity of his companion. This was not of fear, however, or of a sudden feeling of inadequacy at someone so much younger, yet so much more driven than him. Nay, he had been filled with more righteous determination than ever, and with a battle cry that led to a family with two kids in a stroller staring his way, he ran in after him! … … As soon as they reached the main foyer of the mall, both of them realized, in tandem, and Nix spoke first, “…this place is huge as hell! Where do we even go to smash shit up?” “I… That. That is a good point! Perhaps we should conduct a map kiosk, one which says ‘you are here!’ Ugh, those are always a pain to read…” “I’ll help you.” Both turned, then, to see a very fashionable teenager, clad in a purple aviator cap and goggles, slim and bearing a dour expression on his face. All who had hung around Cairo would recognize the Purple Flying Man from someplace or another, as well as all the extremely online and influencer-following of Los Fortuna. “This show… They’ve done so much to capitalize on my uncle’s death. They’ve actively stopped the truth of whatever might have happened to him from being investigated with their frameup… And this conflict, I have lost two of my brothers to it all over again.” He paused, then, and the two men seemed to trust him. “You won’t be able to erase the show completely… It’s already had a limited run in this city. But masters, extra footage, content they were going to actually send out… There’s a storage space nearby… Most of the show’s data is backed up, of course, but that’s where everything is being saved. If your wish is to sabotage Being So Normal, to ruin its international release before it can cause any more harm to the outside world, that is where you go.” “So you’ve had a change of heart yourself… I am thankful to hear that, Purple One…” Arthur snapped his fingers, then, as if remembering his name. “Right, now I remember! ‘Afton,’ wasn’t it?” Purple’s face faulted. “Erm… N-no, eheh. It, uh… It wasn’t that. I haven’t been anything but ‘Purple’ for a very long time.” “No matter what you’re called, an enemy of this show’s from within is just what we need to make this a little less of a pain in the ass!” Nix declared. “Lead the way!” A Series of Backstage Halls Deep Within Sweet FA Acrobatic and stealthy as he was, after leading the way in for those who had sought out this quest to begin with, Purple hurried along deeper inward, well aware that it was likely this place would not be unguarded, and meaning to scout ahead, maybe even fight a bit if he absolutely needed to. He really, really did not want to, and so far, it wasn’t reassuring to him that nobody had interrupted them. No show staff, no Stand Users, not even some rent-a-cop had yet gotten into the way of this. As he made his way to a security room, quietly bemoaning the fact that he would never live down infiltrating a security room with that damned nickname Bad Apples had given him, his worst fears were confirmed. His friend, his confidante, Cairo Satori was sitting in a swivel chair, watching screens displaying the entire mall and idly leaning their head into a metal baseball bat. “Purp…” They spoke up without even turning to face him. “Wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon! I mean, with everywhere you’ve blocked me, privated your accounts… I was under the impression you needed some time away from the show.” Purple hopped down, then, walking closer towards the chair, clearing his throat and pondering his words clearly. “The show needs time away from the show, Cairo… You know damn well why I brought myself back. Come on. You know this isn’t right… It doesn’t have to be this, and even just delaying could save-” “Delay, huh?” They stood, twirling that bat they’d always carried around. It didn’t worry Purple. He’d never seen them actually using it. “C’mon… You know it’s not that simple, buddy. I’m just trying to make sure everyone has a good time… Already, I’m cutting toxic people out of the show! Even when they’ll make it harder to make anything going forward, Caroline is gone! I’ll keep that producer on a really short leash! I am doing everything in my power to make sure that this goes well… C’mon, can’t you look on the bright side?” “You… You already know my answer to that. You’ve betrayed my trust, Cairo. The trust of my uncle, of everyone you’ve worked with… Of this whole city!” He shifted in place, then, becoming a much more avian humanoid figure with its pose. “I am its lavender courage, and I am your friend! And as both, I cannot abide by-” Cairo swang their bat, and as they did, the arms of a Stand emerged from their own hand and struck it as well, multiple times in quick succession. By the time the bat impacted Purple, it was with enough force for the deeply resilient eternally-young ghost to be sent hurtling towards a wall, literally impacting it hard enough to leave an impression in its form, embedded and unconscious in a single swing. He was alive, and would walk this off, but he wouldn’t be getting back up today. “Sorry ‘bout that,” they said, standing with the bat over their shoulder, ‘Peach Pit’ manifesting more fully by their side (drawn by the artist Boy George, as usual), “but I can tell we don’t have time to chat… I’ll send you a gift basket from the launch party, yeah?” Then, their attention turned towards the others on the security room screens, addressing their Stand in the meantime, “uh, hey, Peach…” “I’m on it,” the Stand answered, “Arthur Lifeson and Nix Ripa… I’m excited for this, honestly.” “And you don’t need to know that I am to, honestly…” Cairo moved to press the intercom button. “I heard violence!” Nix called out, balling his fists. “Purple found someone!” He began to rush forward, then, Arthur preparing to make a blade, only to be stopped by the crackling of an intercom button. “Hello again! Wow, it really isn’t all that often that Being So Normal has repeat appearances, but that’s, what, twice in this promotional cycle alone?” Cairo’s voice rang through, then, and they continued, “I figured we’d see some trouble here, so I gave most of staff the day off… I knew it’d be types like you two who showed up, and honestly, I gotta say, despite the circumstances, I’m a bit psyched!” “Cairo Satori!” Arthur spoke up then, waving his hands. “Put this madness to a close, before I have to put you to my blade! You need not fall victim to this any longer… To fight us is a waste of time!” “Well, I’ve got time to kill, and nobody to talk to, now that my friend’s taking a bit of a nap. And besides, you think I’m gonna just let you destroy everything we’ve been working to build up because you don’t like a couple of the crew members? C’mon, have a reality check here! No way I’m gonna allow that… Especially not right now! Look, why not come talk to me after I’ve completely closed this Netflix deal?” There was silence, then, and then they spoke up again. “Oh, who am I kidding? We both know that this is only gonna end one way! If you wanna stop me from sending this show out for the whole world to know and love, and not just be another little piece of Los Fortuna’s super storied, super amazing history, then STOP me! I’m already sending Peach your way, and there’s no way the two of us will just get walked all over!” Arthur shut his eyes in frustration, but Nix shook his shoulder. “We knew from the start it’d come to this. C’mon… Any more talking this through will be a waste of all our breaths.” “Yeah! This pre-battle stuff goes on way too long, I swear! So much to cut down in post without missing the meat of it… But enough talking shop, yeah? Let’s get to what we’re here for… You wanna say it with me? …no? Okay, suit yourself!” “OPEN THE GAME!” Location: A hallway to several storage rooms in Sweet FA Mall. The area here is 40 by 80 meters with each tile being 2.5 by 2.5 meters. The white tiles are completely out of bounds for this match. The light magenta tiles are the main hallway, the purple tiles are side hallways, and the red tiles are the rooms. Each room has a number associated with it for convenience, as shown by the purple numbers. The ceiling is 8 meters tall. The doorways are denoted by the dotted lines between the rooms and hallways. The players start at the left end of the hallway and Cairo starts in the security room (room 5) to the right of the bottom center. Cairo’s Stand starts in the middle of the main hallway. The grey X marked circles are security cameras on the ceiling that connect to the monitors that are represented by the yellow notched rectangles in room 5. The light blue rectangles in the main hallway are 4 meter tall metal shelves that house stage set up equipment such as stepladders, light fixtures, microphones, extension cables, construction tools, and anything else needed to set up or tear down a stage. All shelves are bolted to the ground. The yellow stars are disks, tapes, harddrives and other recordings of the footage shot by Cairo’s show. The walls are drywall while the floor is ceramic tiled. Now onto the different rooms:
Room 1: Contains racks and cardboard bins of merchandise. The brown rectangles are cardboard bins of plushies and hats. The red circles are racks of clothing merchandise.
Room 2: Contains a mountain of chairs and other furniture within a 5 meter tall metal storage fence as represented by the light blue rectangle and the junk inside it. Each side of the fence has a chain locked door.
Room 3: Contains various cooking appliances and peripherals. The white rectangles are 4 meter tall metal storage shelves and the magenta rectangles are 5 meter tall metal storage containers. Basically any appliance that doesn’t fit on a shelf is put into one of the three containers.
Room 4: Contains two long tables as represented by the grey L-shaped rectangles. On these tables are neatly laid out items that were used in Round 2 Match 4, this means Riot Shields, Fireworks Cannons, Magnetic Ray Guns, Grappling Hook Guns, smoke bombs, Tar filled paintball guns, mannequins, body armor, skateboards, net launchers, fire extinguishers, step ladders, marbles, bowling balls, trampolines, shovels, steel chairs, and blankets. Only the crystal ball is missing. The blue circle is a barrel of fencing foils and the yellow rectangle is a banged up motorcycle that while not completely totaled is in pretty bad shape.
Room 5: The security room. It is rather bare, only housing the monitors set-ups to the security cameras and three swivel chairs to go with them.
Goal: RETIRE your opponents! Additional Information: As a reminder, White Tile areas are out-of-bounds for this match. If you willingly traverse through them you will be retired by a pair of mall cops. Here is a shortened version of Cairo’s character sheet with all relevant information, the full sheet is linked below Name: Cairo Satori Age: 21 Gender: None, whose business is that anyways? Species: Human Occupation: Beloved Media Icon Equipment: The newest smartphone, two sets of wireless earbuds for communicating directly with [Peach Pit] quietly, a bag of weed mints, and a baseball bat. User Stats: Strength: 3 (Too much effort to get properly strong- Cairo can throw as much effort into a hit as they need to in order to finish someone off after being brought to near-retirement by [Peach Pit], and that’s about the maximum they need.) Agility: 2 (Never had to run after or from anything.) Endurance: 2 (Not one to hold up under sustained pressure for very long, hoping to duck back from any conflicts except where absolutely necessary.) Conduction: 2 (Able to personally carry their Stand’s damaging energy through them, and has a general knowledge of how to apply it.) Vibing: 3 (It's for vibe checks- the necessity of finishing an opponent off personally, in a fast and hard strike. The full force of their strength, loaded into one moment rather than a series of fests. Also, they do have good vibes.) Stand Name: [Peach Pit] Stand Appearance: On the bulkier side of stand builds, Peach Pit has some resemblance to a knight in plate armor- big, dark metallic pauldrons, a chestplate, an assortment of straps and buckles, etc. The surface of the stand looks very much like a sunset with its colors flipped around. Its face is smooth except for a simple minimalist icon of the sun, and the rest of the head is mostly covered by a knight's helmet as well. A gradient of sorts goes from the head of the stand down to its armored feet, starting with an orange-red and ending in black with white specks like stars in the night sky. About/Oddities: The stand is dangerous, outright. The manifestation of an incredible will for a very specific life gave it incredibly high offensive might, and although Cairo has depleted its very low ‘potential,’ nothing else has decreased in the slightest. Additionally, [Peach Pit] is sentient, and thinks of itself as a close friend and bodyguard to Cairo. Despite being able to dish out high damage, it is very much a friendly, calm and collected individual, having respect even for those it has to fight. As such, [Peach Pit] leaves RETIRING opponents up to its user completely. An enemy can be beaten down, but will still be able to pull together and carry on albeit impeded until Cairo personally finishes them off. This isn't simply a choice- if instructed to keep pressure on an opponent who's down but not out, its strikes can indefinitely inflict serious pain and yet never be quite enough to injure a foe to the point where they're considered RETIRED. Due to the bold weakness in this, for how combat inefficient and easily hurt its user is, Peach doesn't have full damage transference. Instead, it can be destroyed repeatedly- Cairo takes one instance of C power damage upon its destruction, and it can be resummoned from Cairo's position after ten seconds. Peach's presenting identity has been influenced by Cairo's insistence against defining things that way, to the point of being comfortably seen subjectively as anything. Peach will respond to any pronouns without questioning it. Stand Stats: Power: A(The stand can exert a great amount of power in its attacks) Speed: A (Its movements are very fast and its attacks can travel just as quickly) Range: B (50 meters) Durability: E (Subpar durability, however when destroyed the user takes C power damage and the stand can be summoned back to Cairo’s side after 10 seconds.) Precision: C (Generally decent in its movements, but its projectile attacks only move in a straight line once fired and can only be stored within conductive materials. In non-conductive materials it would keep traveling) Ability: Peach Pit lacks a complex ability, as far as one would expect. Rather than intricate effects, its hits themselves can simply be conducted through material similarly the way that electricity does, with distinct variation based on the conductivity of the material. Within conductive material, damage is stored up much like a battery - the moment someone touches the "battery", the damage transfers directly to it on the point of contact. This means that if Peach were to punch a metal rod and someone were to touch it, they would feel the full brunt of Peach's attack the moment they do so. A battery remains charged for up to fifteen seconds, and at any point if it hasn’t been touched and discharged already, Cairo can pick any direction from where the battery is in contact with non-conductive materials to activate the next type of attack. Within non-conductive material, either deployed through battery or direct strike, damage "travels", moving forwards in a straight line at A speed in the same direction it came from. This wave of damage can be seen as it travels, with slight shimmers of light and a crackling sound emanating from where it's currently positioned. Damage cannot travel further than B range from Cairo.
“The thing in Hayato's hand was definitely a handy cam. It doesn't seem to be in this room right now...” This show is a sweet-sounding idea, but it’s so corrupt to its core that you can’t allow it to spread any further than it has. Destroy as many physical backings of the recordings Cairo has made for their show as you can over the course of your strat!
“I even took a video of the cat-like plant you've got in the attic!” This show… You know it’s been an unsavory road, one you wish you could have managed differently, but the good it can do, the way the world might finally begin to understand the ugly and wonderful truths of Stand Users and appreciate them more as a part of their lives… You will celebrate that. Take creative inspiration from actions that took place in matches related officially to ‘Being So Normal!’ That is to say, these 5 matches, R1M5,R1M23,R1M29,R2M4, and R3M8!
Link to the Official Player Spreadsheet Link to Match Schedule As always, if you would like to interact with the tournament community and be among the first to get updates for the tournament, please feel free to PM a member of our Judge staff for an invite to our Official Discord Server!
OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – Giving thanks edition: Kickin’ around Caracas, Pt. 5
Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.) So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX. “Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked. “This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry. “No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.” “Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains. “Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?” “Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.” I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though. “Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.” “Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.” “Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.” “Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.” “You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.” We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl. “Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.” After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business. “So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?” “No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment. I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code. “Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued. “Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?” “You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated. “And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired. “Yes?” I cautiously venture. “Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled. “Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured. “That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.” Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?” “Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks. “And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed. “Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “ I agreed. “OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...” “Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.” “Ahem. Those threeultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.” “Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.” “Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.” “I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked. “But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked. “Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head. “I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.” “Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.” So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked. “Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack. “Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied. “Fuckbuckets.” I groused. “There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled. “Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled. “I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed. After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge. “So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.” “Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction. “Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.” After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130. Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite. Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded. Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull. Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era… I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza. She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing. I can hardly wait. I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness. After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks. I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern. Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse? There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak. “Blue,” I said. “Brue?” was the reply. “Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued. Look of total bewilderment. I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant. “珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?] “Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be. They toddle off to find the chef. “How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks. “Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed. All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile. “Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words… “お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください” [O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.] “Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.” “OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen. Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill. “Crack tubes!” Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it. Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace. Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig. Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends. We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’. “I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor. I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down. “Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.” “Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically. “I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could. She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth. I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest. “Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.” “Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley. She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor. “Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles. Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun. “Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.” “You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass. “Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky… “Beam Suntory, right?” “You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation. “And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked. Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip. “Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently. We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company. I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters. She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health. We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed. The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show. Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat. Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower. “This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.” “Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered. “Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports. “That’s good”, I note. “But…” “There’s always the but…” I groan. “…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.” There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.” Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit. “Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear. The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain. I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service. “Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…” “Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.” So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself. “Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?” He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates. “Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles “No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink. “But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again. “So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked. “Yeah?”, he stammered back. I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails. “OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.” I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink. “Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed. “Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked. “But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued. “I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled. That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while. “Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked. “But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered. Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied, “All the way to the crash site.” He went white. “...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.” He went limp. Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload. Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii. We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was. They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal. I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did. “Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked. “Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied. “Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.” “Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.” “Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.” “Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.” “I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway. At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport. While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!” “Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.” “I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped. “Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied. He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted. “Yeah? Like what?” he asks. “Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.” “Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.” Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.” He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge. I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane. He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts. “No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins. “Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”. “And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies. “Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.” He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH. I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge. The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium. I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different. It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella. “Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular. One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically. I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar. I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically. Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes. “Excuse me!” I hear. Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit. “What?” “That cigar…” “Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward. “Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes. Instantly my demeanor switches 1800. “Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks. “Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances. “Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?” “Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said. “Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens. “Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle. She chuckles back. “And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake. “Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask. “On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies. “But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask. “She was from Truk, an island…” “In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked. “Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked. “Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said. “That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked. “Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle. Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me. “Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?” My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open. “Hella?” I asked. “Yes?” “May I ask you a favor?” “You can ask…” “Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask. “Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies. “I thought so. Many thanks.” I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet. “Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed. “Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud. “No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked. “Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed. “But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand. “What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand. “Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said. “Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party. “Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella. Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well. “Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted. Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone. “Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge. “Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over. “You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo. He cuts and fires up his heater. “What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks. “Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply. “No. I mean right now.” He clarifies. “Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply. “Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks. “My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply. Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end. Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies. Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer. We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off. Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it. I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”. “Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion. “One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another. “No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo. “But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain. I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.” She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion. Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see. “So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask. “Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues. “You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft. I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense. “Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection. “Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins. “So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo. “Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing. I pound on Toivo’s back. “Heimlich time?” I ask. Toivo signals ‘no’. “Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks. “Just my usual”, I innocently replied. “Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much. “Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily. “Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out. “The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool. “It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean. “Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled. “You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink. “No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest. Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore. “You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings. “Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly. I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable. Great fieldcraft, indeed. I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium. He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing. Then I delivered the strategic missile strike. “Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…” He swivels to look at me. “And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly. Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move. I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane. Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire. Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business. I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious. “Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked. “Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile. “Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said. “Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.” “Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway. I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH. Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up. Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane. We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun. Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal. We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip. She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink. Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks. Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs. “Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!” “No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear. “Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!” “’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly. Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole. “Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly. “What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it. He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose. “Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.” To be continued…⇝
A series of trips to Las Vegas by September 11 hijackers became the object of the largest investigation in the city. The reason behind these trips remains a mystery.
On September 11 of 2001, 19 men hijacked four planes and crashed them into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and into an open field in Shanksville PA. These men were al-Qaeda terrorists doing the deeds in the name of a holy war against the West and not much about the attack remains a mystery unless you subscribe to the inside job theory, which isn't my case. What authorities haven't been able to explain is the hijackers' several trips to Las Vegas despite what has been dubbed to be the broadest investigation in city. All these trips happened within a few months before the attacks, but the men behind them left very little evidence of their activities in the area. TIMELINE May 24 - Marwan Al-Shehhi, the pilot who crashed the United Airlines Flight 175 into the South Towers of the WTC, arrived to Las Vegas from San Francisco and rented a room at Travelodge as a walk in customer. Once there, he called eight other motels. May 25 - Al-Shehhi walked in the St. Luis Manor, a hotel that wasn't on the call list. At 12:52 pm, he rented a different car, but didn't return the first car until 3:58pm. The unaccounted mileage in both vehicles summed up to 29 miles. FBI believes that these unusual patterns were a conscious attempt to avoid detection. May 27 - Al-Shehhi made it to New York. June 7 - Ziad Jarrah, pilot of the United Airlines 93 that crashed in Shanskville while on its way to the Capitol Building, arrived to Las Vegas and rented a car at 3:13 pm. He was accompanied by an unidentified man described as "middle eastern looking". When Jarrah asked for directions to Circus Circus Hotel and Casino, the a rent-a-car employee tried to give him an answer but was interrupted by the unidentified man who suggested another route. The man's knowledge of the address suggests that he was familiar with the area or that he had been in Las Vegas before. June 10 - Jarrah took a flight to the Baltimore Washington International Airport leaving his rented car with a mileage exceeding 200 miles and no trace of his Las Vegas whereabouts . June 28 - Mohamed Atta, pilot of American Airlines Flight 11 that crashed into the North Tower of WTC and leader of the hijackers, arrived to Las Vegas at 2:41 pm and rented a car at 4:25 pm. At 6:40 pm Atta established an account at Cyberzone internet café and used the computer for one hour and thirty five minutes. June 29 - Atta checked into Econo Lodge Motel at 1:01 pm. He logged in at Cyberzone again at 2:21 and 6:21 pm. Once done, the FBI believes he went back to his hotel. June 30 - Atta accessed his Cyberzone accounts at 1:56 pm, 6:30 pm and 9:33 pm. The mileage analysis indicated that he returned to his hotel afterwards. This day as well as the day before, Atta had placed several call to Al-Shehhi as well as to two different number in Houston, TX. One number was unassigned and the other one belonged to a mobile salesman. July 1 - Atta returned his rented vehicle at the airport at 5:12 am and took a flight to New York that connected in Denver. The vehicle had 73 unaccounted miles of usage which the FBI believes would cover a round trip to the Hoover Dam. July 31 - Waleed al-Shehri, hijacker of the Flight 11, took a flight from San Francisco to Las Vegas where he stayed for 45 minutes while waiting for another flight to Miami. It is unclear to me whether this was a tactical flight - the hijackers were believed to take flights to study their trajectory as well as entrance to the cockpit-, or just a connection. August 13 - Hani Hanjour and Nawaf al-Hazmi, pilot and hijackers of the American Airlines Flight 77 that crashed into the Pentagon arrived to Las Vegas at 11:18 am. At 11:58 am, Atta arrived to Las Vegas to and rented a vehicle at 1:46 pm. The FBI assumed that the three men met, but no activity from Hanjour and al-Hazim was recorded from that trip. Atta accessed a room at the Econo Lodge at 2:55 pm and connected at the Cyberzone at 11:26 pm, getting back to his room at 12:46 am. August 14 - Atta returned his rented car at 11:09 am leaving no unaccounted mileage and took a flight outside Las Vegas. Hanjour and al-Hazmi boarded a flight at 11:29 am. THEORIES A) Al-Qaeda was looking to target Las Vegas area As noted in Atta's first trip, the unaccounted mileage added up to a round trip to the dam from his hotel. However, Atta's vehicle was not among the recorded license plates in the parking garage of the dam. If the hijackers had connections in Las Vegas area, which seems to be the case with Jarrah, Atta might have traveled to Boulder City or any other town close to the lake and gotten to the dam with someone else in a different vehicle. It should also be noted that both Atta and al-Shehhi stayed in hotels close to the Stratosphere, a hotel and casino located in the highest building of the city. Being known as the Sin City, Las Vegas could have been a attractive target for jihadists looking to rebel against what they perceived to be the westernization of their home countries and culture. B) Hijackers were exchanging information with other Al-Qaeda members The FBI emphasized the short duration on hijacker's trip to Las Vegas saying that it was just long enough to exchange information. Authorities believe that Atta was not only looking at flight on the East coast but he also kept in communication with Ramzi bin al-Shibh, a potential 20th hijacker who had been denied entry to the United States and acted as an intermediary between Al-Qaeda and the other hijackers. Jarrah's mystery companion and the complete lack of evidence of his whereabouts point to possible terrorist acquaintances residing or staying in Las Vegas that are yet to be identified. The FBI summary mentions two persons of interest: Lotfi Raissi and Zakaria Hassan Ibrahim. Raissi started attending the Sawyer School of Aviation in 1998 one month after Hanjour quit. Two days after Jarrah left Las Vegas, Raissi arrived to the city with his wife and stayed there until June 18. His stay didn't overlap with that of the hijackers and he claims he went to Las Vegas to celebrate his honeymoon. On September 21, Raissi was arrested near Colnbrook, UK, where he had been living at the time of the attacks. Prosecutor Arvinder Sambei claimed that the FBI had footage of him celebrating an event with Hanjour and that his flight logs from March 2000 to June 2001 were missing. It has also been claimed that Raissi was training five of the hijackers. No such proof was presented to the courts and the man in the footage turned out to be his cousin and not Hanjour, as it had been previously claimed. Hassan Ibrahim had previously been convicted for trafficking in fraudulent passports and visas. He was the person to provide Mir Aimal Kansi, CIA headquarters shooter , and Mohammed A. Salameh, perpetrator of the 1993 WTC bombing, with fake documents. He was reported to have spent most of July in Las Vegas. Unfortunately, not much information about this individual is accessible so I could not verify if any connection between him and the hijackers was formally established. C) Hijackers went to Las Vegas as a final pleasure stop before committing suicide This theory was briefly mentioned by Evan Thomas, journalist, and quoted by criminologist Adam Lankford in his psychological autopsy of Mohamed Atta. According to the author, Atta and the other hijackers - Hanjour and al-Hazmi - might have visited Las Vegas because maybe " they wished to be fortified for their mission by visiting a shrine to American decadence". While not much is known about Hanjour and al-Hazmi, Atta has been alluded to by the people who knew him as a sexually repressed man who experienced extreme discomfort around women and the mildest hint of sexuality. When years of repression build up an uncontrollable sexual urge, the individual might end up participating is risky sexual activities. Nevertheless, the circumstances of the trip make sex and gambling very unlikely motives. Their stays were short, happened across different months and there was no evidence of them visiting casinos or any similar venues. Strippers supposedly identified al-Shehhi as one of their patrons, but evidence was not conclusive. Furthermore, there is no reason to believe that a quick visit to the strip club was anything more than a fun opportunity while pursuing a bigger goal. I personally believe that the hijackers visited Las Vegas to coordinate the attacks with other members from Al-Qaeda who flew under the radar (no pun intended). SOURCES: Las Vegas investigative summary Theories on why 9/11 hijackers visited Las Vegas David C. Henley: 9/11 hijackers visits to Nevada remain a mystery Wikipedia entry for Mir Aimal Kansi Wikipedia entry for Mohammed A. Salameh Cracking the terror code EDIT: Thanks for the awards people!
A goodbye letter for the anti-President. Written by Michael D’Antonio.
I thoroughly appreciated reading this opinion piece. So much so that I’ve linked it and am pasting the article here as well. A goodbye letter for the anti-President Dear Donald, When we first met in 2014, I was a year into research for the biography I was writing about you. I knew about your stern father, your exile to military school at a tender age and your tendency to spin dramatic fantasies. I knew that you considered life a battle for survival and humans to be "vicious" by nature.* In your Trump Tower stronghold, you were attended by aides who looked like soap opera stars and surrounded by ego-boosting emblems: a wall of framed magazine covers, each featuring your face; a boxer's championship belt given to settle a debt; a stack of clippings delivered with a note that read, "Dad, FYI -- All great press. Ivanka." These totems of greatness, which I haven't seen in the quarters of other super-rich Americans, made me think of you as desperately, and perhaps dangerously, insecure.* In five interviews that lasted about 10 hours total, you would heighten my fear that despite a life spent in unending luxury and privilege, no amount of wealth and power would move you off the life-is-warfare view. Even worse, you told me that you might run for president because Twitter fans said you should (I wasn't surprised by your ambition and, given your celebrity, I thought you might win). Then, as we stood to inspect a framed letter you had received from the disgraced Richard Nixon, you said his only problem was that he had left office for the good of the country. In your view, he should have stayed and fought. *You ran for president and you won. And as you visited upon the country more pain than Nixon ever did, you fought on. Unrelenting in your aggression, lies and cruelty, you presided over four years of chaos and conflict provoked by your words and deeds. Though impeached, you escaped conviction and stayed in office to redouble your commitment to ego-driven chaos. As you refused to mount a serious federal response, the Covid-19 death toll surpassed 400,000. Defeated in your bid for reelection, you spun lies that created an alternative reality so powerful that hundreds of your followers formed a mob that carried out a bloody attack on the United States Capitol. Many there intended to overturn the election, which you had repeatedly claimed was invalid due to fraud that in fact had not occurred.* In the attack, which was televised by news networks and livestreamed on social media, five people -- including one Capitol police officer -- would die. A DC Metro Police officer, who had been Tasered several times, heard one of your followers say, "Kill him with his own gun." Although Congress reconvened after the mob was driven out, you stand disgraced as the only president in US history to be impeached twice, and all I can think is that you had finally made your narcissistic nightmare of a constant battle against vicious enemies come true for us all. Your dangerous narcissism was not widely noted when I interviewed you, but it seemed, to me, to be the hallmark of your personality. I consulted experts and learned that this grandiosity was likely a defense mechanism against a fear of shame and rejection. I came to believe this fear was installed by your father, who, when you were a child, demanded you be a "killer" and a "king." When you failed to meet his expectations and became a troublemaker, he exiled you to military school, at age 13. Talk about a scarring experience. The title of my book, "Never Enough," pointed to your endless drive to prove your superiority, which, ironically, led to bankruptcies, divorces and legal defeats. It's likely these failures provoked the same sense of shame and humiliation that you must have felt as a rejected child. You once told me you hated to reflect on the past, but in refusing to do this, you were bound to repeat your mistakes. No matter how much you achieved, it was never enough. And so, you went too far. (For more on this see what your psychologist niece, Mary Trump, wrote in her 2020 book, "Too Much and Never Enough: How My Family Created the World's Most Dangerous Man.") As President, your weaknesses posed terrible threats to the country. Your many failures at running businesses such as casinos or the airline Trump Shuttle showed that you were not a nimble thinker capable of leading complex operations. The Covid-19 pandemic has only made this glaring incompetence crystal clear -- and despite your efforts to deflect the blame, the country's death toll speaks for itself. More than 400,000 people have died from Covid-19 in the United States -- more than any other country in the world, according to Johns Hopkins University. Having seen your inability to recognize others as human beings, I have not been shocked by your indifference to the deaths of your fellow citizens. Nor have I been surprised by your encouragement of violence. Violence was what I always expected from your presidency. I just didn't know what form it would take. The power of your methods was obvious during your 2016 campaign, when you lied in a way that separated your most ardent followers from reality itself. You promoted many of your old conspiracy theories about 9/11 and climate change and added new ones on the fly. (When an attendee asked -- after first stating as fact that Obama was Muslim and not American -- about the wildly untrue idea that Muslims were running secret training camps in the United States to kill people, you refused to shoot down his claims, promising instead to "look at that." You also whipped people into a frenzy of hatred by describing opponents, critics and the free press as enemies. I recalled reading how your first wife, Ivana, had said you kept a book of Hitler's speeches near your bed. You once corrected a reporter, telling her it was "Mein Kampf" instead (though Marty Davis, who gave Trump the book, told Vanity Fair it was a book of speeches). For four years in office, you functioned as a kind of anti-President, inflaming rather than calming passions and attacking rather than negotiating, all while demanding adoration from your Cabinet and constant attention from the media. Having ordered aides to think of each day as an episode in a TV show before you even took office, you tried to gin up as much drama as possible. As President, you used the authority of your office to spread baseless claims about voter fraud, former President Barack Obama and even of a friendship between former President Bill Clinton and Jeffrey Epstein, the convicted sexual predator who was your Palm Beach neighbor and friend, to name a few. Many of your followers abandoned reason and dove headfirst into the QAnon conspiracy theory movement, which reveres you as a savior and regards the government and much of the news media as evil. Many of those who attacked the Capitol brandished Q symbols along with Trump flags, Jesus banners and the Confederate stars and bars -- a mix of powerful symbols that shows the breadth of your influence. Before the attack, you were among many who called for a big crowd of protesters to stop the Congress from affirming your election defeat. After your lawyer Rudy Giuliani, your namesake son ginned up the crowd, and they heard you call for them to march on the Capitol. "You have to show strength," you said, "and you have to be strong." You promised to go with them but chose instead to view the destruction on TV. I wondered if you understood that the violence that unfolded was real, and not something made for television. Did you order Cokes as you watched? Did you eat popcorn? I can imagine you snacking because you have played with violence, both real and imagined, for so long that you must be inured you to it. It all started back in the 1970s when you began employing armed guards-chauffeurs, for no apparent reason. I think it was because you enjoyed the sense of menace they added to your presence. During your 2016 campaign one of your security guards roughed-up a picketer outside Trump Tower in New York, while another physically forced reporter Jorge Ramos out of a news conference in 2015. At one rally you told followers, "If you see somebody getting ready to throw a tomato, knock the crap out of them." When a loud protester disrupted one of your other campaign rallies, you said, "I'd like to punch him in the face." Your tough guy image was embraced by followers who traded memes in which you were drawn to look like a superhero or shown brandishing weapons Rambo-style. Your avatar punched out a figure labeled with the CNN logo. Add this to the bigotry you expressed in words and images, which you shared with millions of people on Twitter, and a combustible mix was created. (Remember posting an image of Hillary Clinton, along with a Star of David set against dollar bills, brandishing her the "most corrupt candidate ever?"). The atmosphere of bigotry you helped create exploded in Charlottesville in 2017 as men chanted "Jews will not replace us" before a White supremacist murdered a counterprotester by running her down with his car. Heather Heyer was one of the first civilians to die in this charged political context during your presidency. It did not change your behavior. Instead, you declared there were "very fine people on both sides." By delaying your condemnation of her attackers and resisting efforts to remove monuments to those who fought against the United States to preserve slavery, you sent clear signals about your views on race and violence. With Charlottesville, questions about your bigotry grew louder. You made your stance clear when you reportedly said Haitian immigrants "all have AIDS" (though the White House denied it), and that people were entering the US from "shithole" countries. Add your vicious comments about Black athletes calling out police brutality, your penchant for slamming individual Black women, and your fearmongering about low-income housing, and everyone understood your perspective. Three years into your presidency, 65% of Black Americans said it's "a bad time to be a Black person" in the United States, according to a Washington Post/Ipsos poll. It would have been bad enough if your bigotry had been confined to words, but you enshrined it in policy by restricting refugees from entering this country. This led to a sharp decline, from about 85,000 refugees admitted to the United States in 2016 to about 12,000 in 2020. If the "huddled masses yearning to breathe free" didn't get the message, then they could consider the way you cozied up to strongmen, the likes of which many of them were fleeing. From Kim Jong Un of North Korea to Russian President Vladimir Putin, you showed a consistent admiration for dictators who jail and kill their critics. Along our border with Mexico, you began separating children from parents who arrived seeking asylum. By May 2019, six children had died in federal custody. In June of that year, Americans were shocked by the photo of a father and child who had drowned attempting to cross the Rio Grande. In December, a surveillance video obtained by ProPublica showed a 16-year-old Guatemalan boy was left alone in his Border Patrol cell in Texas for hours before he died on the floor, of complications from the flu. How many minors died in Border Patrol custody during the four years prior to your administration? Zero, per FactCheck.org. The deaths were just one measure of the suffering your harsh policies inflicted on asylum-seeking families. New data from June 2019 reveals there were around 5,500 known cases of children, from infants to teens, being separated from their parents and placed in facilities ranging from foster family homes to cells made out of chain link fencing. Amid all this pain, it seemed you still weren't satisfied. You asked about building anti-immigrant moats to be stocked with alligators. You wondered whether soldiers could shoot immigrants who threw rocks. Those ideas were nixed, but the crisis continues. Because of inept recording-keeping, your administration has not been able locate the parents of at least 545 children, according to court documents from last October. Refugee families, stuck in limbo while waiting for asylum in the United States, are still filling squalid camps on the Mexican side of the border, many of them fearing for their lives -- particularly in the midst of a global pandemic. You got away with cruelty in part because you conditioned many Americans to believe that brown-skinned, undocumented immigrants constituted a criminal horde that required a draconian response. You promised to build a "beautiful" concrete border wall along 1,000 miles of the frontier and force Mexico to pay for it. Only about 452 miles of tall steel fence has been completed as of January 5, 2021, according to a Customs and Border Patrol Report, and instead of the $8 billion you estimated for 1,000 miles, $18 billion dollars have already been devoted to the work because -- surprise! -- Mexico is not paying for it. Hyping the wall was just one example of the exaggerations, false claims and lies that came out of your mouth in such a torrent it was nearly impossible for anyone to react properly. You combined this strategy with denigrating the media as "enemies of the people" and purveyors of "fake news" with such consistency that facts seemed to lose their power. You added an Orwellian flourish when you said, "What you're seeing and what you're reading is not what's happening." What has been the effect on journalists? Threats became a part of our daily lives and the lives of our family members. (One of your followers found my wife's business phone number and called to say that he had located our address and to suggest we be careful.) A "press freedom tracker" run by the Committee to Protect Journalists and the Freedom of the Press Foundation has counted 421 attacks on journalists during your time in office. Far worse than the impact on journalists is your effect on Americans' ability to agree upon an established set of facts as they consider critical issues. You are not solely to blame for this problem. However, you have both contributed to it and exploited it. You have made more than 30,000 false or misleading claims, according to The Washington Post, which have landed with the authority that comes with the presidential seal. The easy way out for someone mired in disinformation is to pick a person to believe and go all in. Many of those who doubled down on their support for you found a sense of belonging amid the slogans, regalia and fervent rallies. They felt they were right. Those who disagreed were not fellow citizens but enemies who, some concluded, should be defeated by violent means. The loyalty of your followers meant that ordinary politicians feared provoking the ire of your base. When it came to light that you were trying to coerce Ukraine's President into helping your reelection effort, you were impeached for abuse of power and obstruction of Congress. But this fear helped keep the Republican-controlled Senate in line, and you were acquitted. Afterward, Sen. Susan Collins of Maine defended her vote to acquit you, saying you had learned "a big lesson." What you learned, it seemed, was that you could get away with anything. Even before you were elected, you claimed you could "stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody," and not lose voters. Shortly after the impeachment trial wrapped up, you proceeded to mislead the American people about the novel coronavirus. You downplayed the dangers of the virus so that the vibrant economy, the main bragging point of your presidency, would continue to hum. In late February, at a White House coronavirus task force briefing, you said "It's a little like the regular flu that we have flu shots for." But you told journalist Bob Woodward weeks before that the coronavirus was "more deadly than your -- you know, your, even your strenuous flus." Nevertheless, you declined to organize a true national response and undermined public health officials who urged everyone to wear face masks. You also held mass rallies where people were infected. On May 8, when the death toll was more than 77,000, you continued this charade, insisting, "This is going to go away without a vaccine." To say that people died as a result of your posture is not mere speculation. Families have told stories of those who followed your lead, got sick and died. Harvard epidemiologists estimate that thousands have died as a result of your example. Today the Covid-19 pandemic continues to ravage the country. The death toll is now roughly equivalent to a 9/11 each day -- but many of your acolytes, even in Congress, still refuse to protect themselves and others with facemasks. Meanwhile, millions are turning to food banks. Mass evictions loom. When I consider the hungry, the infected, the traumatized and the deceased and hold in my mind the images of the deadly mob at the Capitol, I hear your voice summoning the worst in my fellow citizens. With those words you truly established yourself as the anti-President, a distinction that cancels any claim you might make to the respect normally accorded the office. When we met you told me to call you "Don," as if we were friends. You also invited me to examine your hair. I didn't do either because I sensed that you wanted to establish a bond that you would eventually try to corrupt. This was confirmed when you hinted that my book could make me rich if I abandoned my professional duty and wrote it to your liking. Thankfully, enough Americans recognized your immorality and incompetence and lack of human feeling so profound that the suffering and death so much a part of your presidency didn't appear to affect you at all. They chose Joe Biden in November, making you truly accountable for perhaps the first time in your life. After four years of your chaos, what's left is a wounded country grieving for its dead and for its innocence. But we will recover, and you now face criminal and legal threats in state courts, along with the harsh judgment of history. As you desperately summon the remains of your following for comfort and fundraising, your disgrace is growing with the mounting evidence that your words motivated the mob that attacked the United States Capitol. This incitement may be the single worst thing a president has ever done, and it will define you for centuries to come.
Anniversary Show - Reviving AEW Women’s Division and Championship
AEW’s Women‘s Division finds itself in a really weird place right now. For the past year and a half or so it’s felt like an afterthought and sorely lacking any attention at all. Now AEW have set up a huge USA vs. Japan 16-women tournament thats got a lot of hype to it, but Shida has been featured on TV barely at all since Double or Nothing still. The talent has improved a lot and they got a great core now with some very good homegrown stars like Nyla Rose, Anna Jay, Abadon, Britt Baker, Leyla Hirsch, Tay Conti etc. So my mission is to take this potential and fully capitalise on it. First we start in present day, and as part of the prompt all disappointing events up until now stay the same. With all that out of the way, here is how I would try and revive the AEW Women’s Championship and Division. AEW Women’s Eliminator: Nyla Rose vs. Abadon (February 10th, Dynamite) Veda Scott makes her return to commentary to team with Excalibur and Tony Schiavone for our women’s eliminator matches tonight, beginning with The Native Beast, Nyla Rose, taking on...as described by Veda, “what do you even call that...” Abadon comes out and haunts Vickie Guerrero but Nyla shows no fear. They both rush each other and it’s a brawl to begin. They soon spill outside where Rose tries to take the monster down using the guardrails, before Vickie exposes the turnbuckle and she slams Abadon into those. She goes for a finisher to end it early, but Abadon counters and the fight is back on. Abadon comes back with a Low Dropkick and Enziguri before clotheslining Nyla out. She throws her into the guardrails this time before setting Rose up on the apron, hanging over the ropes. She dives with a Leg Drop but Nyla moves and she lands flat on the mat. Nyla then hits a Guillotine Knee Drop but only gets a two count. She goes for an Avalanche Powerbomb to end it, but Abadon counters into a Super Rana and lifts both legs of Nyla up to pin her down, 1...2....3. Afterwards Nyla pushes Vickie off when she goes to speak with her. Abadon defeats Nyla Rose (12:11) Thunder Rosa vs. Britt Baker (February 10th, Dynamite) A rematch between these two women here as we unfinished business solved. The match starts with a Big Boot from behind by Baker and from there it’s off to the races. Reba gets a cheap shot from outside after Britt Irish whips Rosa and she keeps going. A roll up is kicked out of but she then flattens Rosa once more. Britt takes it outside where she goes to introduce Rosa to the ring post, but Rosa counters and knocks Britt in instead. She now comes back and uses Reba as a weapon, ducking another shot from her so she hits Britt. Rosa takes a dive to the outside into both men and the fight continues. Britt comes back with some shots to the midsection before taking it outside again, hitting a Snap Suplex onto the floor. That is kicked out of as Rosa flips Britt two birds and throws her around. Baker connects an elbow shot to avoid another flying attack, and goes for a Superplex, but Rosa turns it into an Avalanche Fire Thunder Driver to win and advance. Afterwards she raises her hand and wipes her busted lip, looking deep into the hard cam as Baker is down and out. Thunder Rosa defeats Britt Baker (10:59) We see the first segment of Hikaru Shida on this episode, a four part series leading up to Revolution. She is in Japan currently so they are filmed from the Ice Ribbon Dojo. This particular one begins with Shida walking around watching the girls train, and coaching as she looks on. She says in English “they are talented. They will become superstar.” We then move over to a tatami (traditional Japanese room, small with wooden walls, a paper sliding door, no windows etc.) There she sits down and is interviewed about her career with the assist of subtitles. She speaks of her training and relates to the girls she just saw there. She explains how much Ice Ribbon means to her and she’s excited to see their representation in the tournament. It closes with her about her finals days in Japan. She starts to talk about AEW, but it fades out and ends with a “To be continued...” Leyla Hirsch vs. Riho (February 17th, Dynamite) Riho returns to AEW for the first time in nearly a full year and is excited to be back in action, but she’s got some steep competition in her corner. Legit Leyla Hirsch walks out ready to kick some ass and take names, throwing the towel on her shoulders into the crowd as she walks and laughing at Riho. “She’s like the size of Leyla’s leg.” Veda says. Tony jumps to Riho’s defence we’ve seen her topple bigger and badder in AEW before, but we’ll have to wait and see. Leyla starts off dominant as she keeps Riho down with her submissions and MMA holds. Riho on occasions looks to mount a comeback but she keeps being knocked back down. Despite this, she keeps getting back up. Out of nowhere she gets a roll up on Leyla to stun her, before a Dropkick knocks her outside. She then does a Flying Crossbody to the floor! The fight is on. Riho uses high speed to fight against the power of Leyla. Hirsch goes for a dangerous Lariat but Riho ducks and hits a Headscissors into an O’Connor Roll to pin and win. Riho defeats Leyla Hirsch (12:45) After the match, Tony Schiavone tries to grab an interview with Riho about her win and how it feels to be back. She goes to speak, WHEN SHE’S ATTACKED BY TWO WOMEN! Leyla Hirsch walks up and puts both arms over their shoulders, as commentary reveal it to be Killer Kelly and Lindsay Snow! Excalibur says these two women took part in the Bloodsport Women’s Tournament with Leyla Hirsch months ago, and now they’re here in AEW! Leyla hugs them both Andrew all stand over Riho and walk off. We then see the next part of Hikaru Shida’s video series. This time begins with her training with some wrestlers, and giving feedback before we go back to the tatami. She says she thinks the girls can be big once more, and name drops a few in particular that she sees as the best. She’s then asked if they could ever expand out of Japan like herself. Shida then leads this off into saying it’s not an easy thing to do. The girls can do it but she did it herself and it’s tough. She then talks about moving to America about a year and a half ago and how she’s felt, how she’s adapted, and what AEW means to her. She details how much it means to her to be here in America and holding the most important title in the world to her. She set out to break boundaries and prove she is the best to the American audience, and she did, having held the title for 9 months. She’s now observing who’s going to stop her, but despite the immense talent - nobody is like her. Anna Jay vs. Tay Conti (February 17th, Dynamite) Two best friends clash, with Tay Conti and Anna Jay taking part to face in the next round. Tay offers a handshake but Anna looks away to ignore it. This leaves a bad taste in Tay’s mouth but she pushes on. They lock up and it’s intense, until Tay gains the upper hand. She uses her Judo background to dominate until she tries a Tayogoshi. Anna gets out and gets the cut off. She wrestles with a lot of aggression to the point commentary question that these two women are partners. Anna shows no mercy against Tay with some brutal offence. Conti eventually comes back and applies some vicious submission holds. Tay comes back with a Jumping Knee before a Bicycle Kick off the apron. Anna then hits her with a slam onto the apron and keeps the aggression going. In the climax of the match we saw Tay grab hold of Anna by the wrist and cling on, as they fall forward in exhaustion and rest over each other’s shoulders. Tay wraps an arm around and they hug, until Anna hugs back as she slowly lifts Tay up. They stare into each other’s eyes, continuing to breath heavy, ONLY FOR CONTI TO HIT A BRAZILIAN KICK!! PINS AND WINS!! Tay Conti defeats Anna Jay (10:47) Yuka Sakazaki vs. Mei Suruga (February 15th, Super 16) Exclusively on AEW’s YouTube channel, “The Super 16” is presented live from the Ice Ribbon Dojo. Yuka Sakazaki is someone that AEW fans are familiar with from her various matches on PPV and Dynamite. Since her last AEW appearance she has added more muscle, she's expanded her moveset, and she lost TJPW's top title. Mei Suruga meanwhile is one the smallest and least experienced wrestler in the tournament, being one of Emi Sakura’s many students. She managed to get a clean one on one victory over Hikaru Shida right before Shida left Japan. She's a 21 year old prodigy who's status reaches beyond her experience level. She has Riho’s style mixed with Emi’s influence, for a brief summary. This is a high speed match up, a common style in Joshi, as the two women fly around each other with high risk offence. Yuka does a Springboard to the outside, over the guardrail to take Mei out for a good bit. She mounts a comeback and goes for a finisher to end it, but The Magical Girl reverses and pins to advance forward. Yuka Sakazaki defeats Mei Suruga (08:46) VENY vs. Emi Sakura (February 15th, Super 16) VENY is someone some of you might know as Asuka. No not that Asuka, back in Japan WWE Asuka was known as Kana and the woman now called VENY is now known as Asuka. VENY is a favourite of mine. She can do damn near anything in the ring, she's extremely charismatic, and is in her prime as one of the top indie wrestlers in Japan."Veny" was supposed to debut in America during Wrestlemania weekend 2020, but the pandemic put a stop to that. This tournament is going to be her introduction to western fans. Meanwhile Emi Sakura is someone AEW fans probably know after her match with Riho at Full Gear. Since her last AEW appearance, she's been surviving the pandemic in her own little corner of the wrestling world by regularly producing Youtube wrestling shows(ChocoPro). In recent months, she's been slimming down to more of her natural weight which helps her with speed and her noted back problems. She’s now faster and better than when AEW fans last saw her. This is a technical match up with the two women indulging a game of wits, trading submissions and holds. She goes to use her new found quickness but VENY matches ever at that and puts her down to advance forward. VENY defeats Emi Sakura (14:32) Maki Itoh vs. Ryo Mizunami (February 15th, Super 16) Maki Itoh is one of my favourite wrestlers right now and that’s not a joke. She’s the most popular wrestler in the field and someone that Joshi fans have been waiting to see crossover to the west more often for the last couple of years. She's insanely charismatic. She's a limited athlete, but she's an excellent storyteller and shines in singles matches. She’s only worked Mania weekend in the States so far but we’re hoping to see that change. Mizunami then has worked AEW before, but that was such a long time ago that AEW fans have probably forgotten her. She's a veteran with an extremely high level of charisma and she will chop the soul out of you. Primarily a brawler, but also has that charisma to work this kind of match. This is set to be our character matchup as Maki and Ryo square up, with Itoh crediting herself as “I AM DEITY OF SHIT”. She credits “Cornette-san” as her biggest fan. They then go at it. Ryo dominates Itoh until the comeback, when she catches Mizunami out of nowhere with a Flying Hurricanerana to win. Maki Itoh defeats Ryo Mizunami (08:41) Aja Kong vs. Rin Kadokura (February 15th, Super 16) Main event of the evening and it’s looking like a doozy folks. First we have Aja Kong, easily the most legendary name in the tournament. She's 34 years into her career and still going. While we aren’t expecting to see the Kong that was battling Bull Nakano in the 90s, she is still a very smart veteran and she is still willing to taking some crazy bumps in the right occasion. She’s wrestled in both WWF (Survivor Series 1995) and AEW (Double or Nothing 2019) so she’s no stranger to the big stage. Rin meanwhile is most comparable to Shibata. She doesn't have a huge western fanbase, and she's not a big personality, but she's the Joshi version of "a wrestler's wrestler" and is capable of having the best match of the tournament. She comes Marvelous who are basically the Ring of Honor of Joshi. They are more physical and technically sound than TJPW or Ice Ribbon. Rin and Aja have a stiff and brutal matchup with terrifying strikes from the two women. Aja keeps kicking out of what’s thrown at her, not allowing to go down to a younger girl. Aja misses a Senton off the apron and hits the floor which allows Kadokura to win. Afterwards they hug as we fade to black. Rin Kadokura defeats Aja Kong (15:22) Quarter-Finals: Riho vs. Tay Conti (February 24th, Dynamite) Into the quarter finals we go as Revolution is fast approaching, and kicking it off is these two women. Both are top babyfaces, with Conti having just come out of her emotional war with Anna Jay and Riho suffering at the hands of Leyla Hirsch’s squad. They shake hands to begin and we’re set. Tay has expressed interest in wrestling in Japan before, so this is her forte into the Joshi world. Once everything’s back to normal I’d really like to see her hold the SWA World Championship in Stardom, and potentially face Riho again for it. Riho uses her speed to take Tay down, at one point dropkicking her off the apron and she falls into the guardrail, where Anna Jay sits. Anna looks at her coldly as Tay gets back up, ONLY TO BE HIT BY A BACKSTABBER BY RIHO! SHE COVERS AND WINS!! Riho advances forward to the semi-finals, while Conti stares back, equally as cold, at Anna Jay. Riho defeats Tay Conti (07:01) We see the third segment of Hikaru Shida in her tatami speaking of her story. She goes into detail about Corona hitting and being stuck in America, and how she felt about that. She says all that mattered then was the AEW Women’s World Championship. So much stuff was happening back home in Japan in the Joshi world (death of Hana Kimura), and she needed to topple The Beast, Nyla Rose. She describes the match, says it’s the most physical she’s ever been in, describing each painful bump and how after every move she was more worn down. But she refused to lose, and came out on top. Since then she’s carried this belt, and hadn’t dropped it. Despite the level of talent in the Super 16, no one has the talent to defeat her. Abadon vs. Thunder Rosa (February 24th, Dynamite) Last quarter final now, with the winner going on to face Riho in the semi’s. Thunder Rosa - having defeated Britt Baker, and Abadon - having defeated Nyla Rose. Abadon screams at Rosa to begin but she’s unphased, shouting back and the two meet forehead to forehead. They then start trading shots as the match begins. It spills outside where they continue to brawl messily. Abadon hits a Bloodline onto the floor followed by some biting. She goes for a Twist of Hate on the apron, but Rosa counters into a Cutter! They both sell before going back inside. Abadon runs for a Spear but when it’s leapfrogged, she hits a Headbutt and then runs the ropes again. She connects the Spead this time and covers, but it’s kicked out of. They go back outside where they fight up the ramp. Rosa dives with a Double Foot Stomp before they head up to the announce table. They fight there, and Rosa hits an Inverted DDT on it. Abadon rolls into the announcers chairs and lays there. Once back in, Rosa goes for a Snake Sleeper, but Abadon kicks her leg back and fights back. She throws Rosa into the ring post to bust her open. She calls for a Gravedigger, BUT ITS REVERSED INTO A FIRE THUNDER DRIVER!! ROSA PINS AND GOES TO SEMIS!! Thunder Rosa defeats Abadon (16:11) Maki Itoh vs. VENY (February 22nd, Super 16) Heading into the Japan half of the quarter finals, we travel across the Pacific to the Ice Ribbon dojo once more. Itoh talks shit before the bell as VENY stands stone faced wondering what’s she did in a past life to be in the opposite corner of this. She goes to speak about Cornette-san once more but VENY cuts her off and the match has begun. She dominates the early stages until Maki out of nowhere counters a Suplex into a Falling DDT. She hits a Dropkick off the apron and VENY eats shit. Maki applies a Boston Crab, but VENY gets the ropes and flips Itoh out. She big boots her and is back on the offence. They take it to the apron where Itoh goes to pick VENY up, but VENY knocks her down and they roll back inside. Maki goes for a Ito Special but it’s reversed, and VENY goes for a Powerbomb. Itoh reverses that into a Itoh Royale, which is kicked out and they double down with stereo dropkicks. Maki climbs the top ropes for a Diving Headbutt, but VENY quickly runs up and hits a Superplex. She pins and wins to advance forward into the semis. VENY defeats Maki Itoh (09:18) Rin Kadokura vs. Yuka Sakazaki (February 22nd, Super 16) Yuka runs around Rin to begin with, using her quickness to avoid being caught by any strikes or holds. This proves unsuccessful as after running the ropes for a Flying Shoulder Tackle, she’s hit with a stiff elbow in midair to knock Yuka down. This is the cut off as she dominates from this point forward. Rin goes for a Meteora from the middle ropes, BUT YUKA HITS A FRONT DROPKICK OUT OF MIDAIR!! She scales the top ropes and FLIES WITH A CROSSBODY!! KICK OUT! Yuka continues to run circles before taking Rin to the apron. She then jumps from inside, over the ropes, WITH A HURRICANERANA TO THE FLOOR!! The Magical Girl is back in action as she hits a Baseball Slide Dropkick into the railings. She rolls out to grab Kadokura but Rin throws her into the guardrails instead. She takes control back and does a Lala Histro Cradle into a Cross Armbreaker but Yuka gets a foot on the ropes. She manages to rally up for a huge flurry of offence to take Rin down and cover after a Magical Girl Splash, 1.......2......3! She’s going to the semi-finals where she will face VENY. Yuka Sakazaki defeats Rin Kadokura (11:45) We get a live performance from the Itoh Respect Army - Maki Itoh and Mizuki perform live in living colour a rock idol anthem. This gives Yuka a rest before the main event of the evening, the Semi-Finals match between Yuka Sakazaki and VENY. Itoh and Mizuki hype everyone up with the performance ahead of the big match, before the music stops and they leave. That’s when VENY walks out. Semi-Finals: VENY vs. Yuka Sakazaki (February 22nd, Super 16) She walks down menacingly with pure seriousness on her face. There is no fucking around here. She’s winning this tournament. Yuka meanwhile is as happy as can be. Yuka high fives everyone and jumps down in joy. They shake hands, but immediately after the bell rings VENY immediately kicks Yuka down and dominates. Yuka is tired while VENY is relatively fresh having only wrestled the opener. She dominates until it heads to the outside. She goes to slam Yuka into the railings, but Sakazaki reverses and dumps her over. She then hits a Springboard Flying Seated Senton, over the railings, into VENY. She mounts her comeback and hits for the Magical Girl Splash, BUT ITS KICKED OUT OF! Yuka starts having to match VENY’s strikes, as once VENY starts laying them in, Yuka becomes impervious to pain and fights back with her own. It turns into a slugfest here, but after a Diving Double Foot Stomp from Yuka only gets two she’s out of options. VENY capitalises here and looks to finish with a Powerbomb, BUT ITS TURNED INTO A FRANKENSTEINER! MAGICAL GIRL SPLASH! YUKA IS GOING TO THE FINALS!! Yuka Sakazaki defeats VENY (19:21) On March 3rd, Dynamite, we see the final of Hikaru’s segment, starting with her rolling a suitcase while wearing a mask as she walks to her plane back to America. We go back to the tatami where she’s asked about Revolution, and what she thinks of Yuka Sakazaki. She speaks on her before being asked about Riho and Thunder Rosa. She speaks about Rosa and their feud, saying she’s beaten her before though at last years All Out. The interviewer asks about the All Out the year before that. Who did she face then. Did she win? Shida seems insulted by that but keeps going, saying Riho got the better of her. But while she’s spent the past year back home, she made a new home - AEW. And she is now the queen of that home, and no amount of Riho will stop. Riho vs. Thunder Rosa (March 3rd, Dynamite) We’ve reached our American semi-finals, and 5 days after Yuka Sakazaki’s defeat of VENY - Riho and Thuhder Rosa are set to main event Dynamite. On Saturday Night then, the day before Revolution, we will see the Super 16 Finals streamed on YouTube between Yuka Sakazaki and the winner of this match, with the winner going on to face Hikaru Shida at Revolution. The match starts physical and doesn’t slow down. They go to the mat straight away and trade submission attempts. Rosa then dominates until Riho counters out of a corner charge with a roll up only to get two. Rosa punishes Riho using the ring post. Riho fights back though as she flies off the apron and uses speed to keep Rosa down. She goes for a springboard but is caught midair. Rosa then starts to kick the shit out of Riho, striking her repeatedly. It spills to the floor where Riho mounts a comeback, utilising the ring post to her own advantage this time. With Rosa tied up in the post, Riho runs off the apron with a Double Foot Stomp to the back. It goes into back and forth inside the ring, before Riho flies out once more. Rosa is up first and sets up a table, before they go back inside. Commentary note the No DQ on the outside rule. RIHO HITS A DOUBLE FOOT STOMP TO ROSA OFF THE APRON THROUGH THE TABLE!! They’re both out now, but while down, OUT COMES BRITT BAKER!! SHE HITS ROSA WITH A CHAIR! Riho doesn’t notice as she takes her back inside and covers to win! Britt walks off with a smile on her face, and waves at a fuming Rosa. Riho defeats Thunder Rosa (23:41) Finals: Riho vs. Yuka Sakazaki (March 6th, Super 16) The Magical Girl comes down happy as ever, high fiving and hugging fans and running circles around the ring in ecstasy. Riho then comes out in her signature dress and also with an umbrella with the Imperial Japanese Flag designed on it. Both women offer their hands to each other, and both embrace before locking up. A collar and elbow is engaged and maintained, Yuka breaks the chains by connecting a Dropkick, followed by another Basement Dropkick! Riho ducks a Lariat attempt and runs the ropes, performing a dizzying array of spins before landing the Tornado DDT! 1.....2....Yuka kicks out! Yuka runs the ropes and hits a Seated Senton in the centre of the ring. She goes for a cover but Riho kicks out. Riho takes Yuka down with a Half Crab. Yuka winces in pain and cries in agony but throws Riho off her leg. Yuka then hits a Slingblade and rolls to the outside. Riho connects a Baseball Slide Dropkick through the both ropes, before lifting Yuka up and hitting an incredible Deadlift Suplex into the middle of the ring. Excalibur makes note of Riho being 98 lbs so that feat of strength is truly incredible. Yuka connects an Enziguri and begins a Three Amigos. Riho flips out of the last one and hits a Roundhouse Kick followed by Double Foot Stomp! She covers, 1.......2....Kick Out! Riho seems annoyed at this and takes Yuka to the corner. They trade elbows for a bit before Yuka swaps them around and hits a Roundhouse Kick! She then takes Riho to the top turnbuckle. Yuka attempts to hit a Avalanche Butterfly Suplex, but Riho doesn’t move. Riho shoves Yuka onto the apron and Yuka grabs her back in pain. Riho then hits a Diving Double Foot Stomp onto the apron! That receives a holy shit chant as Riho throws her back into the ring and goes to cover. Yuka rolls into a Fujiwara Armbar! She channels her inner Zack Sabre Jr. and begins to stomp on Riho’s head as she has the submission locked in. Riho rolls forward into a School Boy but Yuka kicks out. Yuka rolls back but is met by a Basement Dropkick! Riho then hits a Northern Lights Suplex! She goes to cover but Yuka rolls out. Yuka whips Riho to the apron. She hits a Dragon Screw on the ropes and connects a Baseball Slide Dropkick! Yuka goes for a Half and Half Suplex on the apron, but Riho gets out and hits a Belly to Back Suplex! Right on the hardest part of the ring as Yuka sells the pain. Riho rolls back into the ring, but is met by a Springboard Front Missile Dropkick by Yuka! Yuka then heads to the top ropes and does a magical pose, Diving Double Foot Stomp! 1........2.....KICK OUT!!! Yuka is now desperate and decides, “fuck it”, and begins a frenzy of attacks. Any and everything used. Yuka hits a Running Meteora! She goes for another but Riho catches with an Enziguri and then hits a Running Double Foot Stomp! She picks Yuka up and hits a German Suplex but Yuka lands on her feet; Half and Half Suplex! Yuka hits a Slingblade and begins a series of Daniel Bryan like Roundhouses, with a few yes chants thrown in from the audience. She keeps going until Riho ducks one and hits a Bicycle Knee! Yuka responds with a Bicycle Kick! Riho hits an Impaler DDT!!! She gets the crowd going and goes for an Exploder Suplex, but Yuka counters into a Backbody Drop! Yuka then hits the Exploder Suplex followed by a Pendelum Kick! She takes Riho to the top ropes and goes for an Avalanche Butterfly Suplex! RIHO COUNTERS MIDAIR IN A ROLL UP!! 1......2.....3!!!! Riho is going to face Hikaru Shida tomorrow night for the AEW Women’s World Championship! Riho defeats Yuka Sakazaki (10:17) AEW Revolution 2021: Anna Jay vs. Britt Baker vs. Tay Conti vs. Thunder Rosa - Four-way Match AEW’s Women’s International Eliminator Tournament has come and gone, and with it many women have some grudges held. Thunder Rosa was cost the semi-finals with Riho after Britt Baker interference. This is of course, due to Rosa beating Britt in the First Round. Also, Anna Jay and Tay Conti faced in the First Round where Conti was successful. That drove a wedge between them as we’ve seen. There is enough tension where we need a resolution, and so they’re all put into a match together - whoever is the best comes out on top. The Four-way is made for Revolution, with the winner set to be Shida or Riho’s next challenger in the coming weeks. However before the match, we see Brandi Rhodes come out for the first time in 2 months. She has a mic in hand and says that two years ago there was a similar multi-women match set. That was the during the genesis of AEW. A three-way became a four-way. Now we know how talented of a roster the AEW Women’s Division is, but what if it could be blustered? Well she’s got the perfect solution to that. How could she make this match even more stacked however? Easy answer, add another women. But not just any women...a Virtuosa. So with a little helping hand, she’s secured someone to really put up a fight. Outcomes Deonna Purazzo. The current Knockouts Champion makes her way out and joins the fray. The crowd applaud loudly at the surprise arrival, as this match is now made a Five-way. Immediately the beefing girls go for each other, Britt and Rosa and Tay and Anna. Deonna meanwhile just picks people off, playing it smart and looking for the win. She’s not fuelled by animosity like the rest, she is just being intelligent. We see the rest of the women all take themselves out to the point Britt turns around into a Jumping DDT and Fujiwara Armbar. She taps out and Purazzo wins the match. She takes the mic afterwards and hoists her Knockouts Championship high. “Who’s ready for a Battle of the Belts?” she says before leaving. Deonna Purazzo defeats Anna Jay, Britt Baker, Tay Conti and Thunder Rosa (11:17) Hikaru Shida (c) vs. Riho - AEW Women’s World Championship We’ve seen the whole tournament so far and the mini-doc of Hikaru Shida. It’s the first majorly built AEW Women’s Championship PPV match...ever, so it’s got some expectations on its shoulders. Shida walks out wearing her attire from the AEW video game trailer, pointed out by Excalibur. Riho is just coming off a match from last night while Shida hasn’t wrestled in nearly a month, so she is fully in control early on. She busts out some early signature moves so the audience get a groove of her once more since it’s been a minute. They go outside where Riho starts to come back and from there it’s back and forth. They recreate the finishing sequence that won it for Riho last time, ending with Riho getting a roll up originally, but this time Shida kicks out! They then keep going as Riho kicks out of a few more moves by Hikaru. Riho goes for a Diving Double Foot Stomp, but she’s hit midair and then by a Tamashii no Three Count! KICK OUT!! They keep fighting as Riho once more tries for the finishing sequence that won it for her last time, but this time it ends when Shida lifts her into a Falcon Arrow! 1..............2..............3!! She wins and retains! Hikaru Shida defeats Riho (14:56) We now head into the build for Double or Nothing. However we aren’t all building towards that. See, it’s announced at Revolution a supercard of supercards is set for April 4th. The “Bloodshed Supercard” is coming up, pitting stars from AEW, NJPW, NWA and Impact against one another. The big match advertised is a Lethal Lockdown Match: pitting Kenny Omega, The Good Brothers and Kenta against Jon Moxley and Death Triangle. But also set for the show, we’ll get into detail here. Deonna Purazzo is now the #1 Contender to the AEW Women’s World Championship, and an appearance by her is advertised for the Dynamite after Revolution. She shows up and cuts a typical promo of hers on Hikaru, claiming herself the one true Virtuosa and hyping her credentials. These outmatch everything Shida has ever done, and when they face, she’ll truly outmatch her for all to see. The match is dubbed “Battle of the Belts” after AEW trademarked that. Knockouts Champion vs. AEW Women’s World Champion. Next week Shida goes to speak, but she’s cut off by Deonna. Purazzo attacks her and beats down the rival champion. She tells Shida she should of stayed in Japan, because now she’s crossed the Pacific she’s in HER country. The Virtuosa runs the place here, and she is going to cement herself as the best champion in the entire country - nay, the world. Later in the night when asked about how she felt of the attack, Hikaru says “Next Tuesday. Impact Wrestling. Watch me.” before leaving. Then, on Impact, we see Hikaru come out after a Ten-person Knockouts Tag Team Match. She looks around with her title, and walks over to the captain of the winning team, Kiera Hogan. She shakes her hand and points back and forth between the two. Kiera vs. Shida is sanctioned for next week on Impact. They face, but due to Hikaru now being in Deonna’s house, she makes her presence known with an attack. Part of rebuilding the Women’s division is other feuds need to exist in it, so let’s touch on those. Firstly, Leyla Hirsch and her new stable, dubbing themselves “Bloodsport” have made an enemy out of Riho. The two face with the stipulation that the winner will face Serena Deeb for the NWA Women’s Championship. Hirsch wins after making Riho tap. Then in her match with Deeb, a returning Allysin Kay comes out and interferes. Deeb rolls up with her distraction. Leyla doesn’t attack Kay however. After all, she was the fourth women in that Bloodsport tournament along with Hirsch, Kelly and Snow. They offer her a spot but Allysin declines and says she just wants that NWA Women’s Championship back. A Three-way then is made, which ends with Kay pinning Deeb. She gets her title back, and afterwards, offers an embrace to Hirsch. Snow and Kelly get her to accept. Bloodsport pose together with Allysin Kay now in their rankings, but tension between her and Hirsch is clear after Kay just took the title she’s been craving for weeks. However, they’re now a unit. Also, Anna Jay and Tay Conti. Anna takes a leadership role in The Dark Order as her and Conti slowly start patching things up. They both agree they got lost in the tournament and were drunk off the thought of glory. They hug it out and walk out together. Then, Thunder Rosa and Britt Baker. The first thing we see on Dynamite after Revolution is Thunder Rosa brutalising Britt Baker. She destroys her. She kayfabe reinjures her and puts her back on crutches. Britt doesn’t wrestle after this but has a vendetta against Rosa, and Rosa is likewise. The women all have feuds, with only one revolving around the title, and they actually get TV time on Dynamite. It’s basically just what AEW do with the guys, but the gender is changed. That’s literally how you do women’s wrestling. Bloodshed Supercard: Deonna Purrazzo vs. Hikaru Shida - Battle of the Belts The singles match main event of the show, it’s the heavily anticipated “Battle of the Belts.” Shida is out first, wearing a kimono and carrying her own umbrella to the ring. She twirls it around at the hard camera in a optical illusion before walking down. Deonna is out afterwards and the Virtuosa walks with purpose, hoisting her title over Shida’s head. Hikaru hoists hers up and they meet forehead to forehead. The match the begins. Shida and Deonna trade goods and submissions on the mat before it goes outside and gets physical there. Purrazzo uses the guardrails and ring posts, before taking it to the apron. Shida hits her with a Superkick and runs the ropes inside the ring, dropkicking Purrazzo into part of the set. Once back up they have some stiff back and forth with a lot of shots and strikes to knock the other down. Both women keep kicking out however. We see many moments when Hikaru looks like she’s about to tap but resists and keeps fighting. They head outside once again where Deonna hits a Backbody Drop onto the floor. Once back inside, Shida hits a Falcon Arrow into a Tamashii no Three Count to win. Afterwards her and Deonna resiliently shake hands in respect. Hikaru Shida defeats Deonna Purrazzo (25:10) Heading out of Bloodshed Supercard, Britt Baker and Thunder Rosa are still battling it out. Britt is set to return to action on the April 14th edition of Dynamite, where she will face Rosa in a No Disqualification, No Countout Match. It’s a brutal bout with Britt showing the aggression she did in her Tooth and Nail Match on Rosa. She ends up winning after a chairshot and kendo stick assisted Lockjaw makes Rosa pass out. Meanwhile, Hikaru Shida continues her trail of dominance over the AEW Women’s division. She’s earned the respect of Deonna Purazzo’s who’s gonna back off to Impact. Shida cuts a promo in English after the match saying she wants more of the Knockouts, and they are an amazing group of girls. She once again faces Kiera Hogan, this time on Dynamite, with interference banned. They have a clean bout that ends with Shida once again winning. They shake hands afterwards. This is Hogan’s first AEW match and she makes a big splash, but comes up short. Next in line is Nyla Rose, who is still with Vickie Guerrero but their relationship is going very sour. Nonetheless, as we approach a year after Hikaru took the belt from Nyla, they’re set to face one more - this time it’s 2 Out of 3 Falls. It’s an excellent bout that ends with Shida winning by falling onto Nyla after the two basically kill themselves. Nyla the next week cuts a promo on Shida, saying she wants one final shot, and if she loses - she will never challenge for the title while Shida is champion again. This is when Britt Baker gets involved and puts her stamp on the picture. She limps down on a crutch as that match with Rosa as temporarily hurt her again. She cuts a mini promo of her own, before blasting Nyla with the crutch. A #1 Contenders Match is set up, with the winner going on to face Hikaru at Double or Nothing. Britt wins after a very hard fought and brutal contest. Afterwards, Tony Schiavone comes out and reads a letter from Brandi. She congratulates both women on the incredible match. She then announces Nyla as the first women to take part in the AEW Women’s Casino Ladder Match at Double or Nothing. In the final weeks before Double or Nothing, Britt cuts some very passionate promos about the struggle she’s went through to even become a wrestler, and as soon as she became the best thing in this company she was injured. But this time, nothing is going to stop her. She’s not going to be hindered by dentistry, not by trying to being a good guy, and not by injury. She will be victorious. Reba is banned from ringside, as if she gets involved Britt automatically loses. Baker is now fuelled by anger as she wants to take down the unstoppable Hikaru Shida. Then, our other stories. Well the premier one is the aforementioned Women’s Casino Ladder Match. Once more it’s decided there’s too much beef amongst the AEW Women’s division, so Tony Khan’s solution is to throw nine of them into a ladder match, and whoever isn’t dead by the end gets an AEW Women’s Championship shot. And just like last time, there will be a mystery participant. Women gradually get announced via AEW’s Twitter, with Nyla Rose as the first on TV before they slowly start adding names to the field, like they did last year. Anna Jay and Tay Conti are announced together, Serena Deeb, Leyla Hirsch, Riho etc. Thunder Rosa and Abadon face once more after their epic match in the Super 16. Abadon hits a Spear into part of the stage which takes them both out and it goes to a double countout. Both women are then put into the match, with the ninth women remaining a mystery. Double or Nothing 2021: Abadon vs. Anna Jay vs. Leyla Hirsch vs. Nyla Rose vs. Riho vs. Serena Deeb vs. Tay Conti vs. Thunder Rosa vs. ??? - Women’s Casino Ladder Match Serena Deeb and Nyla Rose start it off hot, Nyla trying to dominate but Deeb using her strength to counteract. Tay Conti comes in and her and Deeb come to a babyface arrangement to take the big women down. Thunder Rosa follows suit and starts to mix it up with everyone. Leyla Hirsch, Anna Jay, Riho and Abadon all come out and continue the fight. It’s multi-man chaos, with each women sabotaging the other from getting that poker chip. They all want the prize. Killer Kelly at one point tries to walk down and help out Hirsch, but Riho valiantly takes her on and brawls with her to the back. She then dives off the stage with a Crossbody into Lindsay Snow and Killer Kelly. Allysin Kay comes out and puts her through a part of the stage to take her out. Riho comes back, freshly bruised by Kay, and looks to climb the ladder, but Anna Jay pushes her down. She then starts to taunt and mock the 9th and final entrant while she waits for them to appear...and it’s RETURNING KRIS STATLANDER! Statlander comes in and wrecks house; takes out all the people involved while the action continues. Abadon lets out a mighty scream as she goes to climb the ladder. Tay and Anna push her off and meet at the top. They then start throwing shots at each other. They all fall under Thunder Rosa pushes them off and climbs up, grabbing the poker chip and holding it high it in triumph. She now with a future AEW Women’s World Championship match locked in. She takes the mic and tells Hikaru “good luck - you’ll need it.” before dropping it and heading to the back. Thunder Rosa wins the Women’s Casino Ladder Match (16:35) Hikaru Shida (c) vs. Britt Baker - AEW Women’s World Championship Baker comes out without Reba for the first time in a long time, pure determination on her face to succeed. Both women put their heart and soul into the match, pouring every last bit of fight they’ve got in. Britt gets a Lockjaw in near the end and refuses to let go when Shida grabs the ropes. The ref has to physically pull her off, ONLY FOR SHIDA TO HIT ONE FINAL TAMASHII NO THREE COUNT!! She pins and wins. Hikaru Shida defeats Britt Baker (10:21)
When we were kids, my little brother died on Halloween. He's come back to visit me every year since his death.
Jimmy returned for the first time exactly one year after the accident. I was home alone. Dad was at the bar and Mom was dead. We’d crammed her into a pine box and shipped her off to the incinerator months ago. I’d been sitting on the couch watching a plump cockroach scuttle across the coffee table, sipping whiskey that I’d liberated the previous night after Dad passed out. I wasn’t quite drunk yet. At eleven years old, my tolerance to alcohol was comparable to most local stumblebum drunks. A knock came to the door, the gentle tap of brittle knuckles upon rotted wood. I paused with the rim of the bottle resting against my lips. Even the cockroach cocked its long antennae curiously toward the door. The local trick-or-treaters knew better than to come here seeking candy. Our ramshackle abode was always one DHS visit away from being condemned, and the cobwebs and sundry creepy-crawlies in our front windows certainly weren’t decorative. I reflexively choked out a sob when I opened the door and saw his ghostly form. The sheet draped over him was stained brown and soaked with stinking river water. “Jimmy?” I asked, my voice croaking in disbelief. As if to answer me, his jaw fell slack and I heard the tiniest groan emerge from under that sheet, like a whining door hinge in a quiet house. He raised his hand to me and I shrank back in fear, expecting him to thrust an accusatory finger and damn me as a liar and murderer. Instead, I realized that he was holding his hand open, expecting something. A dry, throaty sound whistled up from his slackened jaw and I suddenly understood what he wanted. My little brother had come back for his favorite holiday. I rushed up to my bedroom, reached under my bed, and grabbed Jimmy’s pumpkin-shaped Halloween bucket. I flicked off the roaches and shook out mouse shit then ran back to the front steps, where my little brother was waiting. As Jimmy snatched his candy bucket from me, I saw them, watching us from the corner. It was the same group of older bullies that harassed us last year, on the night of the accident. Last time, they’d been wearing clown masks. They chose the Power Rangers this year. Despite their masks, I could tell that those bullies didn’t quite believe what they were seeing. Jimmy had been presumed dead for a year, yet here he was, wearing the very same costume they’d seen him wearing on the night he went missing. I’d had a growth spurt since that night. Rage and self-hatred did wonders for a growing boy’s physique. Fueled by whiskey and a desperate urge to blame anyone other than myself for Jimmy’s death, I charged them. Outnumbered four-to-one, I took some shots, no doubt, but I routed them regardless, and I left one of them bleeding on the sidewalk, beaten nearly half-to-death. Then I returned to Jimmy, smiling, and hooked my pinky around his before we set off to celebrate Halloween. # I sat on my couch, eyes trained on the flickering candle on my coffee table. The power had been out for a month and I hadn’t seen any good reason to turn it back on; I’d only be cutting into my meager booze budget and, besides, the city was kicking me out in a few days. The house had been bought and paid for by some long-dead relative then passed down to my parents as an act of pity. When Dad finally kicked the bucket, he left the house to me, but I was never quite able to stay ahead of the property taxes. I wasn’t going to miss the place. It wasn’t exactly full of fond memories. At this time of night, I’d normally be blackout drunk, but tonight was Halloween and I didn’t want to miss Jimmy. My entire life might have amounted to a hill of shit, but I’ve promised to never let my little brother down again. I checked the time. Eight o’clock on the dot. I grabbed Jimmy’s Halloween bucket and headed out front. Jimmy never did tell me why Halloween was his favorite holiday. He’d been a gentle kid, small for his age, fair-skinned and wispy. You wouldn’t have known it to look at him, but he preferred the schlock and gore of October grindhouse horror movie marathons to kiddie fare more appropriate to his age. He never flinched at the scary parts, when the reanimated undead wreaked havoc or dream demons emerged to slash open teenage throats. I’d never attributed his love of Halloween to something so cliché as donning a mask to pretend to be someone else, though I wouldn’t have blamed him. No, I’d always suspected that Jimmy loved this time of year specifically because it was when the world went dim and happily embraced the horrific. Vampires and possessed dolls and werewolves made more sense than the more abstract horrors we faced at home. Or, shit, maybe the kid just really liked candy. I stepped outside and the riverwards were alive with grinning jack-o-lanterns, windows glowing orange and framed with fake spider webs, and scores of yuppie parents leading their kids door-to-door. I spotted him walking slowly toward the house. I swore, he got smaller every year. I waved to him. He didn’t wave back, but he did cock his head slightly, as if he was struggling to remember who I was. As always, he was wearing the filthy sheet, soaked in river water. I felt a passing wave of revulsion and guilt when I glimpsed the faded bloodstains where the fabric hugged Jimmy’s misshapen occipital. I smiled and offered him the bucket. Jimmy snatched it from my hand. Though there was only darkness within those crooked eye holes I’d cut into the sheet twenty-five years ago, somehow I knew that if he still had eyes, they’d have been gleaming. I reached down to his hand, hooked my pinky around his, and I took my little brother trick-or-treating, like I’d done every year since he first returned. This wasn’t our neighborhood anymore. Sure, the names of the streets were the same, but that was about it. The yuppie influx, with the ensuing rent increases and property tax hikes, had squashed out most of the old guard. The newbies didn’t care for the sturdy, century-old houses forged with brick and mortar. One by one, those stout homes were being flattened to make way for flimsier, but more stylish facades. Soon, our childhood home was going to suffer the same fate. Jimmy must have sensed that something was amiss because he tightened his pinky around mine. Though I haven’t heard his voice since that night by the river, his pinky squeeze said enough. It said, I’ve got you. That was our private show of reassurance that helped sustain us through our childhood. When Mom wept at the dinner table as we split a dried hunk of welfare cheese for dinner, I’d give Jimmy a squeeze. When Dad staggered home drunk and started laying into Mom, I’d join Jimmy on his small twin mattress. We’d squeeze pinkies, eyes shut tight, with pillows over our ears so we wouldn’t have to hear Dad’s fist knocking against Mom’s head. I’ve got you. Tonight, we stopped at every house that still had its lights on. Our new neighbors smiled awkwardly, genuinely troubled by the sight of the neighborhood drunk escorting a child in a raggedy ghost costume. I didn’t give a shit what they thought as long as they tossed a few bite-sized Snickers bars into Jimmy’s bucket. Soon, the streets began to empty and the trick-or-treaters went home. One by one, those grinning jack-o-lanterns went dark, those orange window lights dimmed, and it was just Jimmy and I wandering the lonely streets. We headed back toward the house. This was where we would normally part ways, with Jimmy heading back on his own. Tonight, though, I remained at his side. He cocked his head again, curious. I squeezed his pinky. # Though I loved Jimmy, he was still my little brother and, often, I treated him as such. Just because I hated the neighborhood bullies didn’t mean I didn’t glean some pointers from their abuse. Sometimes, I’d slap Jimmy around or steal his toys because he’d annoyed me somehow. Other times, I just wanted to feel stronger than someone else. The day of his death, Jimmy had put me in a particularly foul mood. Using the five-fingered discount, I’d gotten comic books from the drug store on York Street and I was looking forward to thumbing through them. Jimmy came rushing into our bedroom, crying because the rats had gotten to his hand-me-down Jason Voorhees costume. The critters had gnawed through the plastic hockey mask and left the (fake) blood-splattered overalls stinking like rat turds. I told him to take it up with Mom and Dad, but he said Mom was passed out and Dad was at the bar, as usual. My mood instantly turned black, not necessarily because of Jimmy, but because, once again, I’d have to pick up the slack for our parents. I cooked most of Jimmy’s meals. I scrubbed the stink off his clothes and got him ready for school every morning while Mom and Dad were off, drunk and doped. All I’d wanted was a night to myself, curled up in bed with some stolen comic books, but they couldn’t stay sober long enough to even give me that much. Somehow, I kept my temper in check. I got him to stop sobbing by yanking the sheet off his bed, cutting out those mismatched eye holes, and draping it over him. “There,” I said. “You’re a ghost now.” His green eyes were visible through the holes in the sheet. His cheeks perked up under the sheet and I could tell he was smiling. “Can you take me trick-or-treating?” he asked. No, I didn’t want to, but I also didn’t want him crying again and Mom would have beaten the shit out of me if I let Jimmy wander the neighborhood alone. So we set out into the streets, amongst a legion of Ninja Turtles and Ghostbusters and Barbie dolls brought to life. Though it was simple, he enjoyed his makeshift costume. I was just hoping to get through the night without bumping into our enemies. That was certainly naïve of me. It didn’t take long for them to zero in on us. There were four of them, all older boys. Even the smallest one towered over me. They were wearing clown masks, thin plastic smiling red-nosed clowns that filled my stomach with dread. None of the parents milling about with their kids noticed the brewing confrontation, not with the dozens of trick-or-treaters clogging the sidewalk. Jimmy clutched his candy bucket to his chest. One of the bullies reached for it, and that was when I snapped. I couldn’t help it. I might have been pissed off at him for dragging me out here, but this was Jimmy’s favorite night of the year. I couldn’t watch some assholes ruin it for him. I swung, hard. My fist connected with the bully’s face and I heard a loud crunch right before blood trickled down from behind the clown’s visage. I grabbed Jimmy by the wrist and we took off into the throngs of costumed kids. We rounded the next corner and disappeared into an alley. We hid there, holding our breath as the bullies sped past. There was no way they were going to let this go. Two of them would likely roam the neighborhood looking for us, while the other two would lay in wait near our house. “What are we going to do?” Jimmy asked, voice quivering in fear. Every night, right before I blackout, I think about how I should have just squeezed his pinky. But I didn’t. Instead, I blamed him. We wouldn’t have been in this trouble if he hadn’t been such a crybaby back home. That was why, of the dozens of places we could have gone to hide, I chose the river, because I knew he was terrified of the river. # Today, the Delaware riverfront was as gentrified as the rest of the neighborhood. A casino and towering condominiums loomed large and quaint pedestrian walkways were infested with pop-up beer gardens. In our youth, the riverfront had been an industrial graveyard, dominated by long-shuttered factories with stretches of wilderness between them. Stinking sumac trees swayed overhead and plump river rats darted through the bushes. This wasn’t the first time we had to hide back here. Jimmy always hated it. Although the neighborhood lay only a quarter-mile to the west, Jimmy thought the riverfront was too isolated. He feared that if our bullies ever caught us here, they could kill us and no one would ever know. My mood hadn’t improved when we finally reached one of the piers, big gray concrete blocks jutting out fifty feet into the sloshing water, supported by a number of wood pilings underneath. Jimmy remained a few feet behind me, still in his costume, nervously gripping his Halloween bucket. The tide was coming in and he jumped every time he felt a wave hit the pilings beneath us, as if the pier might collapse. But what scared Jimmy the most was the possibility of falling into the water, that those rough green-brown waves might trap him under the pier, where he’d come up for air and smash his face against unyielding concrete instead. “Can we just please try to go home?” he whined. “No,” I snapped back. “Not unless you want those assholes to knock your teeth out.” He lowered his head. “But I don’t like it back here.” Looking at my whimpering little brother, I lost all sense of empathy. After running scared from our bullies, I was eager to assert myself as an alpha. I yanked him toward the edge of the pier. “I’m so tired of you acting like a wimp,” I snarled. I shoved him closer to the edge, where the water sloshed violently ten feet below us. “There’s nothing to be afraid of back here.” “I just want to go home,” he cried, the eye holes in the sheet now rimmed with tears. “Stop being such a pussy!” I shouted then instinctively gave him a stiff right hook to the shoulder. What happened next occurred within seconds, yet in my memory, it seems to play out for an eternity. I’d hit him harder than I meant to. Jimmy dropped his candy bucket then staggered as his shoes got caught in the pool of fabric underfoot. I watched in muted disbelief as he flopped over the pier, arms waving, right before the back of his head cracked against the concrete edge. There was a splash ten feet beneath me and my brother was gone, leaving behind nothing more than a red patch on the concrete and white bubbles breaking the water’s surface. # Pinkies locked, we maneuvered through condominium parking lots and empty beer garden stalls until we reached that old pier. For a moment, my memories blended with the present and I saw myself, cold and shivering and soaked with river water, trudging back toward the neighborhood alone, clutching Jimmy’s candy bucket. I remembered how cold and dark the river was when I dove in, fighting the waves, trying in vain to find my brother before finally giving up. I never told anyone what happened. That night, when I got home, Mom was still passed out and Dad hadn’t come back from the bar yet. I hid my wet clothes then, later, told them that Jimmy had simply run away from me. I was terrified of what would happen if they knew the truth. There was a police search that amounted to nothing. Dad didn’t seem to care very much. Months later, Mom swallowed forty sleeping pills and never woke up. I took to stealing swigs of Dad’s half-empty liquor bottles to soothe my guilt, a habit that had served me ever since. But even that relief has proved fleeting. As Jimmy and I walked along the pier, I tightened my pinky around his, content to die sober. We stood at the edge of the pier. Though I couldn’t see his face, I could tell that he was no less afraid of the river now than he had been twenty-five years ago. Jimmy stepped off the pier and disappeared into the water below. I wondered, once this pier was inevitably torn asunder to make way for a condo or another casino, would Jimmy still resurface on Halloween? If he did, and he ventured into the neighborhood, would he even recognize that the shiny new studio apartments were standing on the grave of our old house? Either way, I was going to make sure that he didn’t go through it alone. I stepped off the pier, just like Jimmy had that night. I cracked the base of my skull against that concrete lip. A lightning flash of pain shot across the world and I crashed hard into the water, pushed at once by the tide under the pier. A wave slammed me against one of the pilings and I felt something snap in my back and, when I tried to scream, filthy river water filled my mouth. Yet, as I was thrashed about under the dock, my consciousness slowly fading, I felt Jimmy’s tiny pinky finger squeezing around my own. I’ve got you. # That happened almost one year ago, last Halloween. Though I wanted nothing more than to slip into a watery slumber with my little brother, he must have felt otherwise. I woke up, weeks later, in a hospital. They removed patches of my skull to relieve the pressure from the brain bleed, courtesy of cracking my head on that concrete lip. My ribs had been shattered to splinters from the paramedics’ vigorous chest compressions. They found me on the road, which meant Jimmy dragged me from the water, across the industrial wilderness, then out to the waiting blacktop. I asked the medics if there’d been a boy in a ratty ghost costume with me when they arrived. They said they hadn’t seen one. Anyway, I’m writing this on the computer at the public library right off Girard Avenue, but I better finish up. The librarian is a real asshole. Doesn’t like it when street bums like me stink up the joint. It’s almost Halloween once again. Jimmy might not want me down in the water with him, but I’m going back to join him, regardless. I’ve got his candy bucket, so we can hit the neighborhood one last time. I’ve also got a box cutter with the sharpest goddamn razors I could find. Once Jimmy slips back into the water, I’m going to open myself up – both wrists, then my carotid artery – and I’m jumping into that green-blue Delaware shitwater right along with him, because I’m Jimmy’s big brother, god damn it. I won’t let him swim alone.
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