Bad Ending

The Destined Ruler Of All Creation woke up to find himself in a small metal room, with a primative display that began to play a video once he awoke of a figure cloaked in shadow.

"Hello, whomever you are. You have been judges by the Custodians of Existence to be too much of a threat to your universe, and thus have been expelled to this pocket dimension. Goodbye."

The door opened, and The Destined Ruler Of All Creation saw a large device being worked on by a thousand others, one waving hello.

"Hey, grab a tool, we're nearly outta here."

Problem Solving

After a solid minute of them screaming at the top of their lungs at each other, I grabbed him and locked on a front face lock, my forearm squeezing on his throat.

After a couple seconds, she nodded.

"OK, thank you, let him go now."

I held on.

"Look, I get that he's a douchebag, but we need him to get outta here with the crawlers."

I continued to squeeze as I stared at her.

"OK, OK, point made, let him go, please!"

Reluctantly, I let go.

And, totally accidently, did so so he fell face first onto his sword.

Earn The Tip

The bellhop had obvious motives to be helpful. Maybe my initial tip had been overly generous, I had been in a good mood that night, but then as things happened and my life began to spiral, he was seemingly always there to help calm her down then help move her body and then dump it in the swamp.

By then, I knew I had two options, and I had to choose, off him or give him everything as I ran and restarted.

I made my choice, turned to him, and he tipped me right over the edge of the boat.

Helping Help

Other spys would try to copy my techniques, once they thought they knew them, but invariably they'd fail sooner rather than later, because they wanted a shortcut, not a plan.

They'd hear that I would gain access to the top of companies via the personal assistants, secretaries, the help, essentially, and they'd rush off, try to get their own target's help on side, and end up caught and reported.

Because you need to study them first. Some of them hate their bosses, some of them love them, different tacts needed.

And occasionally, they were the actual brains. That's really complicated.

A Frontier

The issue with humanity's frontiers is tje aftermath. They stand for ages, pushing back against all who try to conquer them, until finally one or two humans will break through, just a little. Then more smash it. And then more do it, and more, and more, until the frontier is no longer, it's just part of humanity's basic, general life.

Now sure, that's good, usually, but the thing is, eventually, there comes a problem. Because eventually, Humanity will find a frontier that will push back.

And Humanity will see that as a challenge, rather than the warning it truly is.

Not Good

I was working on the largest solar panel on the outside of the ship when one of the conduits exploded. It sent me flying away from the spaceship.

Not good.

I threw my tool behind me, slowing my movement but not by enough, as the ship slowly got further away.

Not good.

I activated my radio, and tried to contact the bridge of the ship. I just got static.

Not good.

As I drifted further away, I saw that the explosion had set off a chain reaction, and the ship blew up.

Good, but I wanted to survive my sabotage.

Dreaming

I always has a realistic relationship with my dreams. I understood that there were plenty of dreams that I'd never achieve, in part because I'd never put in the work, and because even if I did, it was a long shot still. One in seven billion a year win a Nobel Prize in literature a year after all.

So most of my ideas I just would let flow, enjoy them, but then let them go, and focused on the dreams I had a shot at.

And yet here I am, one in seven billion this year. How'd that happen, huh? 

Combat Skills

Everyone needed a skill to survive this town. You had to be able to shoot a fly off a steer's backside front a hundred yards, or be able to take a shot point blank and keep on ticking, or something in-between. This place was rough, unforgiving, and cruel.

But even then, it wasn't always enough, as you could end up trapped between two enemies, by design or just by accident.

As for me, well, I managed to leverage a rarely used skill to survive.

Seriously, never underestimate the ability to make and keep friends in any sort of hostile environment.

Werewolf Logic

If I was getting out alive, either I would be rescued, or I found a weakness, so in either case talking to my captor made sense. Plus how often do you get to talk to a werewolf?

"So why does the full moon change you?"

"It doesn't."

I blinked a few times, my chains rattling slightly.

"But-"

"Look, we need to transform, roughly every 30 days or so, or else we go feral. 

More so.

And if we have to turn and hunt, why not time it when the night is brightest and it's easier to see?"

He lunged, suddenly. 

Headcount

Everyone but me in the Royal Court had a plot in motion for power and control. The King was scheming to remove the Queen, and vice versa, and the children wanted to remove both, and everyone else was trying to turn one of them to their side.

All except boring me, as I was the only one bothering to run the fucking Kingdom. I knew that if I kept my head down and ran the place, I'd never be removed.

Then came revolution, and I, at first, thought I'd be just fine.

But turns out "civil servants" can be fired...

Wormhole

Space turned out to be much more crowded than we expected, thanks to wormhole generation, which like most species discovered by accident as we were working on other things.

We learned quickly how we were expected to act, but unfortunately there were, as always, a bunch of assholes who wanted to bully, steal, and generally act horribly.

The other species were understanding, at first, but after we blew up a star, they declared that we were unfit to exist in the galaxy. We feared they would deny us wormhole tech.

We didn't know wormholes could be planet sized, nor inter-universe... 

Little Green Chit-Chat

Thanks to social media, the news got out quicker than the Governments could curtail the information, and so they were forced to admit that yes, aliens had landed and that a united task force was in negotiations with them at a non-disclosed location.

Naturally this led to concerted efforts to locate the meeting, which was kept a secret a little longer, but whoever was clever enough to hold it at Area 51 was probably too clever for their own good.

That, or they wanted the enraged religious nutjobs to be able to bomb it and cause all the subsequent troubles.

Bitter Hops

After a few beers, the conversation turned to exs, and while the stories started off amusing, at least to my drunken self, they quickly turned bitter, and I clearly did a poor job of hiding my discomfort as he noticed.

"What? They dumped me, so I'm entitled to not enjoy that!"

I struggled to find the right words, so I took a big gulp of beer before I finally spoke.

"You're entitled to your emotions, sure, but acting upon them like that..."

"How did you react when you were last dumped?"

"I haven't yet."

This seemed to satisfy him, somehow.

Radio Chatter

"Fifteen minute check, all guards check in."

"Northeast, all clear."

"Northwest, all clear."

"Southern side, all clear."

"Rooftop, all clear. Which you know since you're five feet behind-"

"Shut up Rooftop. Basement, go ahead."

Five seconds of silence followed.

"Northwest, send a runner to Basement to check."

Five more seconds of silence.

"Northeast, you-"

A blood-curdling scream was heard through the radio, before more silence.

"All units, Code Black, immediately attack any threat with-"

There was another blood-curdling scream, which was bad enough, but given this one wasn't through the radio but still audible, that made it all the worse. 

Typical

I woke up to what turned out to be the fifth phone call. I groggily picked up the phone and after a couple of false starts answered it without opening my eyes.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm in bed, obviously. And who the hell is this?"

"Don't give me any lip! You're supposed to be opening today! You better get here in five minutes or your fired!"

"Dude, wrong number!"

"Stop lying you... There you are! Why didn't you say you were here?"

"Hanging up now."

"And how the hell are you talking without opening your mouth or-" 

Belief And Existence

For the longest time, I assume that humanity's obsession with stories, fables about the bogeymen under the bed and vampires in the night were merely their collective attempts to understand those who live among them bit whom cannot comprehend.

But after many years of studying, and seeing new creatures and beings appearing only after humanity thought them up, I'm beginning to think that I have the cause and effect backwards.

Which is all well and good, but it's somewhat disconcerting to realise your existence is tied to humanity believing in you, while they can't accept that you actually do exist.

The Gameplan

The Organisation had a very well used playbook, one that they usually didn't need to deviate from. When they spotted someone who needed to be be brought into line, the plan was followed.

The preferred method was to determine what the target truly wanted, money, power, sex, whatever, and provide it in exchange for the correct behaviour.

If that wasn't viable, it usually meant they cared for someone. So they'd kidnap and hold hostage that someone.

But if neither of these were viable, they were forced to take the drastic third step.

Readjustment of plans. They weren't monsters, after all.

Just In Case

The ship hit the ice and broke open like a pinata hit by an unenthused child.

Given how slowly it was taking on water, I felt I had enough time to head down into the lower deck and get the suitcase.

But thanks to needing to remember the passcode for the room, by the time I began to head back up, corridors were filled with cold, black water.

After the second corridor in which I nearly drowned, I realised I would need to leave the suitcase behind to survive.

So I regulated my breathing and let the water take me.

Armageddon

It used to be that Armageddon really meant that your tribe was wiped out, or at least destroyed with the survivors becoming integrated with another one.

Then it became a flood or other natural disaster destroying the local area, which was the destruction of everything since those beyond the hills weren't real people.

But the more power and control people got, Armageddon went from what would happen to us to what we'd do to ourselves, be it nuclear weapons, climate change, or just gray goo.

But, if it helps, when it comes, you won't even see it coming.

Trust me.

Mark Of Character

My hunting in the wilds of Africa had been a rousing success, I'd bagged several excellent trophies, but I needed an elephant to finish up the collection, and so I ordered my guide to guide me to them.

It took half a day, but he led me to where the elephants stood around, as I prepared my heaviest calibre bullets.

But when the first elephant lumbered into view, as I lined my up shot, I saw that it has been painted, covered in lots of dots, some sort of ceremonial situation.

Wasted so much soap washing all that nonsense off. 

First Born

I was always told, after I said that I didn't think I wanted a kid, that I'd change my mind when I found the right girl, or even just I'd realise my error when I had one. Of course, given I didn't want one, I went out of my way to avoid the risk of accidental impregnation.

Until, of course, one horribly timed drunken night out and what was meant to be a one night stand.

Nine months later, she gave birth, and I held my child. And my mind did change.

I now knew I didn't want a child. 

Cutting Calculations

I didn't know why he wanted me dead, but after the amount of bullets and other weapons we'd used against each other during the fight through the office building, I could only assume he had a good reason.

But at this moment, as we both lay on opposite ends of the board room, blood dripping from both of us, we both made our mental calculations as we looked at the remains around us.

He scrambled for a knife, so I went for the gun, thinking I could reload it before he got to me.

I forgot you could throw knives. 

Fried Bacon

I held up a piece of bacon off my plate and turned it around in the early morning light.

"You proposing?"

There was a scattering of laughs from the other soliders.

"No, I'm considering just how fortunate we are, here, miles inside enemy territory, and we still have access to the greatest food known to man. Might be a little salty and crap from the preserving, but dammit, bacon!"

I ate it down with a satisfied crunch, until the Quartermaster spoke.

"We ran out of bacon two nights ago, this is-"

We were attacked before he could finish his lie. 

That's The Spirit!

I could tell by how she walked into the bar that she was another newly arrived quester looking for someone. She stomped up to the bar and at least had thr smarts to wait until I finished pouring a drink before she spoke.

"I hear you're good at finding people."

"Oh, well, I just have a memory for faces, sometimes."

"I'm looking for a bad man, dark hair, giant scar on his face."

I politely waited for more information. When none was forthcoming I sighed.

"That describes eight men in here tonight!"

She looked around then lunged at Gary. Gary! 

First-Born Monster

Every first-born child of a first-born child in the land was bonded with a monster type in the land. The bond varied in type and power, ranging from mere similarities (long teeth, green skin) through to being able to communicate and control them. Complex peace treaties were thus necessary to prevent those who could control the giants or the dragons from waging war.

But then came Lucio, who was a first-born six generations deep, but whom seemed to have no connection.

But they ended up ruling the land, thanks to working out they did have a lifebonded monster type.

Man.

Odd Handed

November 15th, 2017.

That night, I got home from the pub very drunk and even more hungry. And so I threw together a sandwich in my drunken haze, and ate half of it in like three bites, then the other half ten minutes later.

And it was the single greatest sandwich I'd ever had.

But the problem was, in the morning, my hangover meant I couldn't remember what was on it, how it was made. I just had the twenty wrappers and scraps in my bin to go on.

So far, I'm through most of the simple combos, trying daily...

Struck Out

I grabbed a bat and stepped into the batting cage. The video screen flashed to life with a pitcher video, and I began to swing.

After a half-dozen balls, I heard her voice behind me.

"So are we gonna talk about this?"

I gripped the bat a little harder and after the next ball (got a double) I spoke.

"What's there to talk about? You weren't happy, so we're through. Seems pretty cut and dry."

After two more balls, both strikes, she walked out.

Still not sure what it was she expected me to do.

Third strike ended my session. 

The Traditional Way

The Royal Court had a thousand years of tradition and etiquette that had built up, seemingly every role having their every step determined by a million steps taken by thousands of feet.

And then came Princess Sa-gurtin, from the Sultanite Empire.

Marrying a rival Royal family was hundreds of years ingrained into the Court, but she was loud, fortright, and above all else, different. She refused to abide by any of the traditions, much to the shock of the court, the disgust of the Prince, and the delight of the Queen, since she chose her specifically for this very purpose.

One More Drink

One more drink.

It has been the week from hell at work, boss breathing down my neck, customers complaining about everything the boss was breathing down my neck about, just horrible. So on Friday, I went straight to the bar and had several drinks, before deciding to have just one more before I headed off.

That last drink meant I left the bar just past ten, rather than just before. And so, on Leonardo and Vine, I watched as that billionaire crashed his car into the car ahead of me.

That could have been me to get that huge pay-off!

Bear Market

Eight months prior, Black Eye Bart had masterminded a robbery of the First Western Bank in Hillville, getting away with thousands of dollars. But after dealing with his accomplices, he'd vanished, last seen heading up towards Bear Mountain. The Sherrif, not wanting to die, just put out bounties and warnings to the state lines. And since he was never picked up, everyone assumed he was dead up there. And then it became a story that the cash was still up there. So slowly, people started heading up there.

Giving Black Eye Bart's new pet more practice on mauling and eating.