Tropical Punch

Glory was ill at ease looking through records and working with the Custodians of Earth's AI, much preferring to get out there and punch criminals.

But too many of her familiar enemies had a connection to a finance company based in an otherwise empty island land.

It took hours of work, but eventually Glory and the AI found the woman behind what turned out to be a ponzi scheme ripping off supervillians.

Glory found it distressing that it was best to leave it running and hope it took down more people when it collapsed.

It wasn't quite the same punch.

Bridge Tale

The bridge spanned multiple lands, multiple worlds, multiple times. It was said that there was an end, but only one, and that it existed long before any and all beings, and would stand long after.

Many souls travelled their lives on the bridge, others stayed put to trade and bridge the bridgefolk and the others together.

There was a few times when a race or an empire tried to rule the bridge, or use part of it in their petty wars, but only when they had forgotten the last time that was tried, when the bridge took its bloody toll.

Fighting On

The expectation was that the Humans would realise they had no chance against our superior firepower, and would surrender. But they fought on.

So we destroyed their outposts, one by one, systematically removing them, presuming they needed tangible proof of our greatness. But they fought on.

Encasing their homeplanet in a pulse field took just a few days, and their subjugation would take much sooner, we assumed. But they fought on.

So we slaughtered them, to the last, removing them from the universe. They could not fight on from that.

But then they become the rally cry for everyone else.

Cuffed

I sat in the back of the police cruiser, staring at the shotgun clamped 'securely' in the rack. I idly pulled my wrists back and forth behind my back, the handcuffs secure.

Then I heard the scream. I would have been confused, had I not already heard it before.

I moved my wrists faster, harder, hoping to break them sooner rather than later.

I saw one of Them approaching the cruiser.

I hooked the cuffs in front of the shotgun and jimmied the trigger until it broke the cuffs, shot  It, and took off one of my hands.

Worth it.

The Tribe Gathers

The Tribe gathered several times each season. Feasts, births, deaths. But not every gathering was intended. Sometimes Everyone gathered due to some external force.

If The Island was unusually cold for a long time, The Tribe would gather in the caves for warmth, or if it was hot, they would gather in the lagoons.

Today, there was an amazing display on the horizon, some sort of clouds, that gathered The Tribe on the beach as they all looked on in confusion and wonder, neatly gathered for the Empire's ships to land and gather up the heathen savages for transport away.

Worship Choices

Tied to a rune covered platform, staring up into a swirling maelstrom of fire and energy, while a mad high priest continued his summoning of an avatar of his deity that would consume my soul and then inhabit my now empty body.

Certainly a moment to reconsider one's life choices, specifically those that led to my being a hero adventurer.

And then the ritual ends, the energy dissipates, and the amassed worshipers look on hopefully at you, who is very much the same person as before the ritual began.

How often does one get to choose to be worshipped, anyway?

Today

Today was not great.

Today, not to put too fine a point on it, sucked every disgusting body part, all at once.

Today saw several minor things go wrong for me, a jammed finger, a misplaced twenty, an overcooked meal.

Today also saw the culmination of a few major things that ended badly, a rejection letter, a rejection in person, and a rejected credit card.

Today wasn't too crash hot for the world at large on average, not enough good days to balance out the bad.

Today was bad.

Today was horrible.

Today really, really sucked.

Today is not tomorrow.

Summer Holy Days

Every culture in the known and understood universe has days of rest, of release. Even after establishing artificial drones to do all labor, or sticking to slavery throughout, there are still days of less work at regular intervals where they enjoy themselves, in one way or another.

Humans had 2 cycles out of 7, Esbadions 1 out of 10. The more religious cultures tend to have holy days, a small number every megacycle. These tend to be huge parties, or days of destruction.

The Riguians are having their first holy day in a thousand megacycles.

I'm sure it'll be fine.

Battlefield Assumptions

My Trainer always told me to never assume my opponents are weak or unskilled, no matter how much evidence there was to prove it. You must always be on guard for sudden brilliance, either by subterfuge or sheer dumb luck.

I've kept this advice close, always on the look out for a sudden reversal or nasty trick. I'm sure I've taken much longer to defeat my opponents than I could have with a more aggressive attack, but I still win most times, i almost never get trapped or sneak attacked, and I usually get a pawn promoted every single game.

Scrubbed

They brought in new wounded from the front line every hour, every day. Any emotions you would have had about the parade of young people dying, disfigured, destroyed, you scrubbed them from your mind.

You did mental calculation. Was it simple enough for a nurse to deal with? Move them into the next room. A quick operation? Do it dirty and fast, and move on.

They need major work that might not work? You help them out by taking away their pain and moving on.

One day my son came in.

I scrubbed, I calculated, I helped him move on.

Looking For Something

I found the letter used as a bookmark in a Tuscan cookbook that had fallen behind the bookcase. Given my obsession with Tuscan cooking had lasted a week, it was obvious why I hadn't noticed it missing.

The letter was still in the original envelope, the back of which had some scribblings about possible rules for swapping cards in the office romance card game I abandoned just after I went back to sauce-rich foods.

The letter was from my mother, congratulating me on getting my first painting in a gallery.

I threw the letter away, I hadn't painted in years.

Red Cards

West Forest Bears V Greater Lakeville Crawfish
12/6/18 Tom Murray Field
Umpires: Greg Harper, William Clarke, Sarah Jones-Clarke

05:37 Yellow Card Bears 15, late tackle on opposing player
16:05 Yellow Card Crawfish 07, deliberate handling of the ball
22:58 2nd Yellow Card/Red Card Crawfish 07, control of ball via outside interference/illegal object on the field (Crystal confiscated and held by sideline umpire)
24:22 Team Disqualified Crawfish, unsportsmanlike conduct, refusal to communicate clearly with officials, outside interference leading to illegal control of sideline umpire.

Umpire Clarke requested Umpire Jones-Clarke returned, Crawfish refused (worshiping).

Not The First Time

I found her hidden behind the Chamber of Unearthly Delights, staring into one of the Metatron's cubes, flicking through another mortal lifetime.

"Mitchelle! I thought you said you'd stop doing this! You know you'll be cast out if The Boss finds out!"

She thrust the link into my face.

"Look at this!"

I sighed, and glanced at the cube face as it flicked through images.

"So they're boring, they spent most of their life in a dusty lab. So?"

"Those weren't highlights. They have time skips now."

I blanched.

"We need to tell The Boss we can't rerun stuff anymore."

The Obvious Choice

There was hundreds of wands, staffs, and batons, made of every precious metal and encrusted with every gemstone known to man or demon. They were laid out on racks that took up most of the wall of this, the deepest part of the dungeon.

One of them was the famed Wand of Genvelli, which granted the wielder almost unlimited power. The rest killed the wielder instantly.

The Automata was tasked with coming in every time another looter entered the chamber and cleaning up the ashes.

The Automata wondered why the looters always grabbed the plain wooden decoy on the floor.

The Right Choice

"Just make a choice."

She crossed her arms, and waited impatiently. I looked around quickly, hoping for a sign, a way out. Even if she hadn't been so obvious with her attitude, I knew I was being judged on this, that if I made a wrong choice that was it for us. Thus why I took as long as I could, cutting her off before she spoke.

"I've heard good things about this Mexican place, let's eat there."

Her expression was hard to read, but through the meal I realised I'd chosen badly.

But the waitress gave me her number...

Dose

The pills had stopped working as well as they used to.

They weren't supposed to, the marketing swore they adjusted the recipe every so often to avoid tolerance buildup, the benefits were supposed to be consistent and dependable, so you could be too, as the ads said.

But despite their claims, and despite my taking the little yellow faces every morning at 7:30 sharp, I was getting the comedown earlier and earlier in the day.

I needed to go onto the stronger reality blockers, but I really couldn't handle the few days of cold turkey I'd need between them.

The Doctor We Need

Dr. Chaotico turned on his viewscreen and hacked into the Custodians of Earth's base computer.

"Tremble fools, for-"

"Oh thank goodness!"

Dr. Chaotico paused, not expecting one of Earth's heroes to be glad to see him.

"You may pretend to-"

"Look, Doctor, you're on your Moon base, yes?"

"I... I do not have a-"

"Traxodians have encased Earth in a Bubble Universe Sphere, we need you to use your Anti-matter cannon to destroy it."

"Even if I had such a device, why would I help you?"

"Because if Earth is shunted to a bubble universe, you can't conquer it."

"Firing!"

Woo Factor

He entered the potion shop furtively, walking with a pronounced limp as he glanced back out onto the street several times. I put down the wartroot I was stripping and gave him a traditional old crone smile.

"Aye, you look like you're be looking for a potion, perhaps one to woo a young lass?"

He blanched.

"I, no, that's... You have that?"

I chuckled.

"Well, near enough..."

He shook his head.

"No, I need a reversal potion for something."

"Reversal? Reversal for what?"

He licked his lips several times, then pulled down his pants.

I sold him a heightgain potion.

The Stories Humanity Tells Itself

I approached the Keeper Of Knowledge, waiting until he had finished collating together the holopages he was working on before I spoke.

"Keeper, I believe I have found a discrepancy in our Knowledge."

The Keeper flicked his gills.

"A discrepancy? Well that will not do Subkeeper. What is your source?"

"This text describes the first contact between the Conglomerate and the Humans, it is much different to..."

I trailed off as the Keeper's skin lightened.

"Human history is not reliable, they need narratives, they need to believe we attacked them."

"The text is a recording."

The Keeper had me transferred.

Dead To Rights

"Good evening sir, do you know how fast you were...

Sir, am I right in thinking that's a deceased person there in your front passenger seat?"

"Look, I can explain."

"I hear that a lot. I'll need to see your license and registration."

"Right, now, I don't have those, because of the explanation. It's funny, really."

"Fine, let's hear it then."

"So as a joke, my buddy here found this necklace, can you see it?"

"One moment sir, I'll just need to come around and..."

"RWRARRRAARRRR!"

"AHHHFUCKFUCKYou... *gurgle*."

"Took you long enough. Spit out that brain and let's get going."

Not Really My Type

She knew I loved her, but she was not mine.

I wasn't her type, she needed someone else, she liked me as a friend, all those cliches.

And that was okay. It hurt, obviously, but I wasn't one of those sad assholes who expected a relationship or blamed women for not wanting me. I accepted her choice, and I moved on.

We lost contact for a while. I moved, she focused on her career, but after a few years we ran into each other in an airport. We caught up.

I knew I loved her before, but I'm unsure why.

Windows To The Soulless

I pushed my prescription glasses back up my nose as they entered. The guy next to me remained as cool as his sunglasses.

"My name is Demonhunter Aeteril, this is my partner Weahdo. We're hunting a dangerous demon, who we have reason to believe bought a ticket today for New Beijing. You two bought your tickets today."

I stammered a denial, the other guy said nothing.

"You know demons can't shapeshift their eyes, right?"

The other guy attacked as they went for his sunglasses, but they subdued him quickly and let me go.

I thanked hell for my deluxe Eyehiders.

Selling An Armageddon Bomb

How do you sell a weapon that ends everything?

I would explain the science involved, but then you'd just go build your own. Suffice to say that once you activate it, it creates a cascade loop of splitting superstrings that will end up destroying the universe.

Finding someone mad enough to want to destroy everyone and everything is easy. Convincing them you want to spend the credits you're charging quickly on the Pleasure Clone planet before all life ends is the hard part.

Making sure they don't ask how long the bomb takes to work is the really difficult bit.

Finite Pain

The Sultan laughed maniacally as I was dragged towards an ornate cage in the center of a large room.

"For trying to steal my precious jewel-encrusted Crowns, you will spend the next ten years in this cage, every day experiencing untold pain and torture, before your mind is wiped each night so as to ensure your anguish is maximised every time!"

"Oh good."

"Good? What's good about that?"

"I won't remember the ten years, just one day, if that. I can handle that."

"Fine, no mindwipe"

Thanks to remembering orders and sequences, I was out of there in a week.

Her Owned Heart

Her heart belonged to him from the moment they met.

She didn't realise it at first, but quickly she realised what was going on. She tried to fight it, her brain ready to offer plenty of reasons why this was a terrible idea. But he had her heart.

They dated, married, settled down. They settled into a routine, it didn't excite or inspire, but he still easily claimed her heart.

Until came the say when he decided this was over, that there was no spark left. He broke his property, since her heart was that.

So she broke all his.

Too Long To Explain

I began to dread that earnest look on the robot's holoface. It always had "just a simple question about this human aspect" that would invariably involve having to explain the English language's habit of stealing words and the influence that had on Chiglish, or the origins of the Internet and the concepts of cats, cheeseburgers, and cryptocurrency. But I had to humor it, or else I'd get my lease removed from the station, as the sole human here on the Galactic-.

"Mz. Monet, do you understand this message, 'Cover Blown Order 66'?"

I sighed and flipped the explosives ignition button.

The Oracle Of Need

Unlike most oracles, this one wasn't hidden in some treacherous terrain, or guarded by mystical beings.

It was just a small basin near the outskirts Hill City. You approached, dropped a copper into the liquid, and as it melted, it told you the one thing you needed to hear most at that time. You only got one go in your life, but that was all you needed. Most love affairs and businesses owed their success to it.

But you can also blame a lot of failures on it to. What you needed to hear wasn't always the truth, you understand.

Warned You

The captain of the opposing squad pulled out an ornate revolver pistol from his holstet and trained it on the forehead of the last solider left. He chuckled, as he adjusted his weight while remaining on his knees.

"You speak my language?"

The captain nodded almost imperceptibly, and pulled back the hammer of the pistol.

"Well I should warn you that if you try to kill me, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

The captain laughed, gave a traditional insulting goodbye, then fired, the dirt buildup in his revolver causing the gun to explode in his hand.

Dimensional Shadows

A three dimensional object creates a two dimensional shadow with no concept of itself, when exposed to light.

A four dimensional object creates a three dimensional being with only a vague concept of itself along one of its axes, when exposed to reality.

A six dimensional object creates a five dimensional being, when exposed to all of existence without dying.

A five dimensional being creates a vague four dimensional shadow that imprints on the three dimensional beings that leave it thinking that the shadow is a real being and thus leaves them with two dimensional thinking about morality, at best.

Massive Multiplayer

Every day, I kill two people. I pick the two people I feel have the worst scores across the board, and end them.

Plenty of people die anyway, lives eventually end without my involvement, but two people who wouldn't have died do end after all.

I try to make them accidents where I can, try to limit taking down others, but if they are on a plane or driving a car, well, them's the breaks.

Eventually I'll be down to just two people, and they'll start everything again.

They'll have to be better than Adam and Eve from last time.