Cwej: This is a Story About _______ by James Wylder

This is a Story About _______
by James Wylder
Illustrated by Newton Locheye

This is a story about a road trip.


But you know that. That's why you're reading this. Well, perhaps this is your very first time reading about the Adventures of Christopher Cwej and his young assistant Jhe Sang Mi as they travel through the American Midwest, and if so, welcome. It's unclear why you're starting here of all places, but we hope you have a good time.


Presumably however, you've seen their stories so far. You've seen them stop in towns, and help, or try to help. You've seen them meet ghosts, and creatures, and monsters.


The road has greeted them, and they have greeted it back. It has become comfortable, normal, their day to day. But no less filled with danger and adventure.


But no adventure is one story. This one starts somewhere else.
 
 
This is a story about Scooby Doo.


Or rather, this is a story about masks.


The flashlights lit up the monster that Christopher Cwej and Jhe Sang Mi were chasing in glancing glimpses, as they struggled to keep the lights fixed on the beast while running.


Its clawed feet and grizzled brown fur stood out in that light, even as its growls and roars of anger allowed the duo to stay on its long tail.


They turned the corner in the mansion, only to find the monster trying to turn a doorknob, rattling it and cursing under its breath.


“It’s the end of the line,” Chris said.


The monster turned to face them, panting, and as they put their hands on their knees to catch their breath, Sang Mi reached forward with both hands, grabbing the monster's head by the ears, and yanked.


The head popped off—too quickly, so that Sang Mi stumbled back and landed on her tailbone, holding the big hollow monster head as the human one in front of her looked up.


“Mr. Wilson. So it wasn't a real monster after all.”

He scowled, spitting at the floor in front of Cwej’s feet. “I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling travelers.”
​

Getting up, and gesturing wildly with the fuzzy head with everything she said, Sang Mi was clearly upset. "But what about the monster attacks at the factory? People died!"

He laughed. “It was a convenient way to cover up all the accidents from our cost cutting.”

“SERIOUSLY!?”

Chris sighed. “I really wouldn't have jumped to dressing up like monsters first.”

“Well it worked.”

Chris couldn't argue that bit. “You”ll face justice.”

Mr. Wilson's scowl turned into a grin. “Will I? I've bought the town prosecutor, the mayor, and the police chief. Go ahead, turn me in.”

Sang Mi looked at Chris. “He bought people? Isn't that illegal?”

“Well, yes, but he doesn't mean it that way. He means bribes.”

“Ohhhhh. Right. So that's pretty simple to solve, right?”

The man blinked. He clearly did not think it was simple. Chris also wrinkled his brow before his face lit up in understanding.

“Right, you see, my friend here is something of a computer expert. And she's found a lot of this era's electronic security to be…”

“Pitiful?”

“Well, I was going to be nice about it.”

She raised a finger and pulled out her phone and started tapping away at the screen. Both Mr. Wilson and Cwej expected this to take a few moments, and for Sang Mi to slickly put her phone back into her pocket with a smirk and announce victory, but instead it took about twenty minutes, with Cwej having to threaten Mr. Wilson several times.

“Okay, done!” Sang Mi said, more relieved than triumphant. “The whole bribery situation has been taken care of. In fact, all your bribes are now being back charged to them. I don’t suppose they'll be very happy with you about that. Oh, and also I transferred all your money and assets to a charity that does stuff with feeding children or something. I figured that was a safe bet.”

Mr. Wilson stared. “You... that's impossible.”

“No, that’s why it took forever. That was really a slog. Okay now can we turn him in?”
 

Mr. Wilson found himself prosecuted to the full extent of the law. In fact, he was put through the wringer more than most criminals as the prosecutor fumed throughout the whole set of proceedings, and everything worked out.

 
Sang Mi couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of disappointment. “It was just a guy in a suit.”

“That happens more than you'd think,” Chris said.

“I know it’s probably better when we don’t run into real monsters. But…” she trailed off and looked out the window. Everything that had happened on their last stop was clearly still weighing on her.

"We were able to help here—really help. That means something."

She nodded. He knew it wasn’t everything, and he said as much. She screwed her lips to the side, and then continued.

“At the end of this trip, when I go home and we're not travelling together, do you think I’ll do good?”

“Of course I do,” he said. But the thing that bothered him was that he wasn’t sure. And it wasn’t because she wasn’t skilled. She’d made him proud on this trip.

But sometimes when he looked at her he saw himself. And he thought about himself, and the mistakes he had made.

And he wondered if it would be better if he’d never met her.

And he wondered if it would be better if they'd both died in that car wreck.

And he wondered if he was making his own monster in his own image.

And that made his stomach churn. It made his neck and palms sweat and his throat get parched. It made him miss a turn and have to awkwardly make a U-Turn at the next intersection.

He was proud of Sang Mi.

He wasn't sure that was a good thing.
 

This is a story about something you can't understand.

People tried to put words to it, they called it “Yssgaroth” and other names. But these names failed to truly convey its existence. It was a place. It was more than a place. It was where vampires came from. It was another world, another reality. It was an alternate path for existence, one where the laws of reality were fundamentally different. There was life, but what life there was was not the same. Whenever it touched our world, it was poison. Or worse, an infection. It changed things. It made things not as they should be.

Chris and Sang Mi had encountered the Yssgaroth in Chicago, but they had barely encountered it. They had encountered an edge, a glimpse. Like the proverbial blind men each feeling one part of an elephant, they assumed a greater understanding of the whole than they did.

Because they did not understand the Yssgaroth, and neither do you. You can look them up, and read about them, and read about it, and read about what it was and what it will be, and you will nod and think you have a handle on it.

But no matter how little you understand it, it will continue to be what it is.
 
 

This is a story about a kidnapping.

It wasn't a very big dock, it was just for motorboats and kayaks on the lake, but it was still a dock. And that was enough for a shady meeting at midnight.

“You Big Lips?” the man in the black trenchcoat asked the man in the blue trench coat, one hand stuffed in a pocket.

“I am, this is my associate,” the man in the blue trenchcoat said, gesturing to the girl in the grey trenchcoat.

“I said meet alone.” The gruff man in the black coat pulled a gun from the pocket, a Stivala N9B1 from the looks of it.

"Look I got tired of waiting at the hotel, I can't sit all the dangerous stuff out. I watched all of "Owl House" during the last secret meeting," the girl sighed.

Blue trenchcoat threw his hands up. "I'm really sorry, kids am I right?"

Narrowing his eyes, the man in the black coat nodded slowly. "Fine. You have the cash?"

"Half now, half when we see the girl."

Black coat gritted his teeth. Not ideal, but he could play ball. "Sure."

The man in blue held up a bag, and tossed it to the man in black. Without lowering the gun, he carefully unzipped it. It looked like the right amount of cash at a glance, and a few quick flips showed that the stacks of bills weren't just 100s with 1s in between them. "Alright, looks good." He whistled, and a car pulled up to the dock, from it a terrified young girl with duct tape on her mouth and zip ties on her hands was guided out by a man in a balaclava and a leather jacket.

"She matches the description," the girl in grey said.

"Well you saw her, too bad you're not leaving the dock alive."

He was about to pull the trigger when the girl sprang—and sprang fast. He could have sworn he pulled the trigger, and there was a pop-bang, but that was impossible because the girl was alive and drawing of all things some kind of sword on him—a sword that cut his gun's barrel off horizontally two thirds of the way down. If he wasn't sure it was impossible, he would have said that she'd cut the bullet he fired in half too.

But that wasn't possible either.

The sword spun up, and ended up at his throat. Dropping the remainder of his gun, he raised his hands in surrender.

The man in blue was cursing, and he could hear the sound of a fistfight going on behind him, intermixed with scolding.

"I told you I would handle it!" he said.

"I saw an opening! I'm not hurt!"

"You're not hurt because you're using a sword that breaks the laws of physics!"

"It doesn't break them on Gongen!"

"Your universe has different laws of physics, obviously—ugh—oof." There was then the sound of several counter punches and a triumphant, "AND STAY DOWN!" Followed by panting and, "You can't show people that you have a sword that breaks the laws of the universe."

"They wouldn't know if you hadn't said anything!"

The man in the black coat coughed. "Uh, so what exactly is going to happen to me?"

He heard the man in blue sigh. "You're going to continue this wild dream."

And after that, there was only darkness till he woke up in a jail cell.
 

* * *
 

Sang Mi sheathed her sword. "I helped, there's no need to be angry. I fought the Vampires too, remember?"

Cwej gestured for her to tie the man up as he went to untie the little girl. "You're okay now, Stacy. This is going to sting a little—" He pulled off the duck tape, and the girl took in a deep breath.

"Is... is it over?"

He nodded. "It's over, you're safe." She fell into his arms sobbing, and Chris mouthed, "We'll talk about this later” to her.

They delivered the child back to the family, who had never had enough money to pay the ransom, received many thanks, and then handed them the bag of money they'd stolen from the last group of criminals they'd undone because Chris was getting tired of carrying it around and it was probably more money than they'd ever had in their life. There was the usual "oh no we couldn't!" before they accepted. Finally then Chris used a fake ID to pretend he was an FBI agent who couldn't break his cover by being the one to turn these kidnappers and the evidence he'd collected about them in, and the police detective he spoke to was kind and generous enough to take all the credit for the arrest, rescue, and investigation.


After all of that, they left town.
 

"I wish we'd see a monster, or an alien," Sang Mi said, flipping absentmindedly through Oddities of the American Midwest.

"Haven't we seen plenty already?" Chris ventured, but knew immediately it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"I mean, yeah, but..."

He knew what she was thinking. They'd made peace with having to leave the town with, well, for lack of a better term, Little Green Men. But it still lingered for them. She wanted to do something more, to feel like she'd accomplished something. "We saved that girl you know. Stacy Kimble never would have made it home without us."

Sang Mi nodded. "I know. I'm not saying it wasn't important. It was just... normal, I guess."

"It was normal until you pulled out your magic sword."

Sang Mi frowned. "It's not magic. It's got a mono-molecular edge. They're one of Gongen's greatest inventions."

Chris sighed, and flipped his turn signal. "Sure. But not here. And you could have been shot. You could have died."

"But I didn't. I thought you were over this, being scared of putting me in danger."

"That's not the issue. I told you you'd need to follow my instructions, and you didn't. I had a whole other way of handling that scenario planned. Things worked out, but... when they don't work out, people die. You promised me you'd follow my instructions. You broke that promise."

She slid down in her seat. "Sorry. Really, I am."

"I know," he said. They drove on in silence together. "And look, I want to see something unusual too. I've seen a lot of things but... you don't go on these kinds of adventures if you don't want to see new things."

She nodded. “Let’s rest for the night. I know it's early but…”

It wasn’t a bad idea, so he took it.


This is a story about a date.

Archie wasn't usually one to ask someone out at work. And it had sort of happened by accident. He'd been working late with Tasha Williams, and as they charted the sightings of the monster across the city, he'd joked.

"They saw it at The Seventh Badger Pub? That was the last place I had a date. With how it went, might be worth checking into Brenda."

"You dated a Brenda?"

"Not for very long."

"And you let your last date be with a Brenda?"

"Do you have something against Brendas?"

"Do you?"

"Touche. But it's not like I planned on not dating again—and how long has it been since you were on a date?"

"Well, a while."

"Was it with a Brenda?"

"Maybe. And it's not like I've not wanted to date again either! It's just how things have gone!"

"Well maybe we should go on a date," he joked.

"Maybe we should," she said without thinking.

"Well then I'll see you tomorrow at six," he said just as quickly.

"I guess you will."

There was a sudden pronounced silence.

"Uh, where at?" she asked, as everything caught up to her. "I mean, you don't have to—"
At that point their co-worker Maxie walked in, and slammed a piece of paper straight from the printer between them. "I made a reservation for you two. Now shut up, let me get my work done already, and stop flirting!"

"We weren't—" they said in unison.

Maxie scoffed and shook her head. Archie could have sworn she muttered about "humans" as she walked away, but he was probably mishearing her.

"I guess it’s a date," Tasha mumbled.


* * *


Archie adjusted his tie. He thought he dressed well most of the time, but he'd scrutinized his own appearance longer than he had in years tonight. He'd settled on pin-stripes; when he'd made the choice he'd thought he looked slick as hell in the mirror. But now the thought rang in his brain: pin stripes? Really? That's what you chose?

"You look good." He looked up to see Tasha.

"I should be saying that, damn." And he meant it.

She was adjusting an earring and cursing under her breath about it. Tasha had chosen a classic black dress, and she was both stunning in it, and also looked slightly out of place.

"Psh," she replied. "But thanks. I thought this place was going to be fancy but there's a Blue Candle Coffee next door."

"Honestly I'm glad Maxie didn't try to bankrupt us."

"Ha, when you put it that way I'm glad too. Funding is tough enough as it is."

He put out an elbow, and she took it. It was a simple action, but one he hadn't done in ages. Work had been his priority, and he didn't mind that. The greeter took them to their seats, and their waiter told them the specials. They ended up both getting fish.

"I thought for sure you'd get steak."

"I did too till you reminded me of our financial straits," Archie said, then sighed. "You'd think with how much danger people are in they'd be willing to put more money our way. I mean, C.R.U.X is doing fine, the JDS are thriving and the US is even founding some new alien group that sounds like a music scene... EDEM I think? Geneva is doing okay, there's those other guys in Cardiff infringing on our mandate, and somehow that Zoltan guy is still doing things.”

"Wasn't Zoltan in World War Two?"

Archie shrugged. "Should that surprise us?"

Tasha laughed. "I suppose not. But maybe we shouldn't talk about work."

"Right, of course."

They ate their fish in silence for the next ten minutes.

Eventually, Archie paid their check after a bit of back and forth over splitting it, and they headed out into the cold night air.

"Well, that was..." Tasha trailed off.

"Yeah, sorry about—wait, look." He pointed to the shadows, where they saw it: slimy and fish- like, mouth covered in fangs, it was crawling out from an alley, before it got up onto its hind legs, and roared. A roar that caused the few passers by in the area to scramble. There it was—the creature they'd been charting all this time! Tasha pulled a pistol out of her purse, and pointed it at the monster.

"Don't move!" she called.

"Oh shit!" the monster said, raising its hands. "Whoa, hold up there, I give! It's just a joke, just a joke!"

Archie and Tasha looked at each other.

"Well that was disappointing," he said.

"The date or the monster?"

He sighed.

"Look, it’s nothing against you. I just don't think either of us are ready for dating. Let's deal with this bozo."

"Yeah, you're probably right," he agreed.

He would wonder later if he shouldn't have agreed so quickly. If he should have pushed a little harder and said: "No, we clearly both care about our work. That's not a bad thing. We really do have that in common."

But he hadn't said that.

And she was probably right anyway.

He wasn't that kind of man.
 
 

This is a story about a hotel.

Bernice McCleary was bored. It was the fifth day at the hotel, and her dad insisting she come along on his business trip so he wouldn't have to pay a sitter was proving to be something she regretted. Her now-ex-girlfriend back home had told her she wanted to see other people after day three, and she was too young to go into the single gay bar this podunk town did have cause they actually carded at the door—heresy.

So when she went downstairs to get another cup of free and incredibly thin coffee from the lobby and saw an Asian girl in running shorts shoes and leggings and a zip up hoodie, with a bob haircut that was starting to grow out a little longer than it was probably meant to be and a deer-shaped hair-clip. Her internal senses told her everything she needed to know: she might not know the right answers in English class, or social studies class, but she knew one thing: this girl was not straight. The girl was on her laptop, tapping keys and whipping her mouse back and forth, with her own Styrofoam cup of thin coffee.

She waved at the girl. She hesitantly raised a hand. "Mind if I join you? This place is jank."

She gestured to the seat in front of her, and Bernice slid in.

"Hi, I'm Bernice."

"Saaa...Sarah. I'm Sarah."

"You sound unsure about that."

"My name is Korean, so I go by Sarah around here on Earth."

"...On Earth?"

"I mean Pennsylvania."

Weird but whatever. "Sure. Hey, are you into UFOs?"

"...Like Little Green Men?"

"Yeah!"

"They're not real. People from Mars look totally different."

Bernice adjusted her skirt. This girl was exactly her type. "I think UFOs are real though—there's all sorts of wild stuff in the night sky. And if you go online there are all sorts of videos you can't explain."

"In my experience when there is light in the sky you can't explain it's like... spy drone. Spy satellite. Another spy drone."

Bernice nodded furiously. "Yes, the government is always watching."

"They do that here too? Where I'm from it's on the moon, well one of the moons, but they have this huge base there... Sorry this would be absolutely insane to listen to."
Grabbing her hand that was on the mouse with both of her own, Bernice shook her head. "No, I believe you! I'd love to hear more."

Sarah nodded. "Sure... I'm trying to beat this level in Half Life 2. Chris—he's like, my mentor— told me I'd really like it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, it's pretty good. Usually he leaves me at the hotel because he thinks it’s going to be too dangerous for me to go with him to uh... to work, but today I got too clever and now he's got the room all evening." She sighed.

Bernice raised an eyebrow. "...Oh?"

"Yeah, he was talking to the cashier at the grocery store, and I gave him a little nudge and this time he actually took the hints and said something normal and smooth. He's dropped the ball so many times on this trip I was just like, please go on this date with this lady, I'll be fine. I can find stuff to do. But turns out his date is going way too well, and I did not need more details, and I don't have anything better to do than play Half Life 2 in the hotel lobby."

"Well, that's not entirely true."

"Oh? Did Half Life 3 come out or something?"

Bernice leaned in. "You could do me."

Sarah blinked, and her brain began doing calculations. "Oh. Oh I get it, yeah."

"Nothing serious, my dad is out of our room all night, so we could fool around a bit." She tried to give her best sexy eyes, but they didn't really seem to be having an effect on Sarah.

"Let me finish this level, then... sure I guess, yeah. I mean, that's something you want, right?"

She pulled her hands back. "That's not exactly enthusiastic."

Sarah shrugged, returning to her game. "I'm rarely enthusiastic. That doesn't mean I'm not down for it. I just don't really feel attracted to anybody I haven't known for a long time and really trust. But like, I am really bored, and that's probably more fun than this, so really just let me wrap this up."

It was definitely unusual, and normally Bernice would have walked at that point, but she waited, and they went up to the room, and they did in fact have a really good time. And then did cleaning up in the shower too.

They cuddled in bed, both of them on their phones, showing each other memes, but Sarah seemed pensive.

"What's up, something is clearly bugging you. You're not regretting…"

"No, no, like I said, this was all really good. I was just thinking like... I don't normally do this kind of thing."

"You mean with girls?"

"No? That's a weird question. I just mean like... this is the kind of thing Chris would do. Meet someone on an adventure and have a passionate encounter. I've been learning a lot of good stuff from him. I think I'm a lot more confident these days. But I don't know, I'm not really attracted to people sexually or romantically very easily. Anyone. So like, I don't know if I would have done this before this trip, you know? That doesn't mean it’s bad, or that I regret it. This is really nice. But I don't know. I guess I just didn't think this would be something I'd learn from him. I thought it would all be like... job related skills, I guess."

Bernice put an arm around her. "We're all bits and pieces of the people around us. I'm sure he's learned stuff from you too."

Sarah nodded. "That's probably true?"

Picking up her buzzing phone, Bernice's eyes widened. "Oh shit, it’s my dad. He says he's not feeling well so he's coming home early—you've got to get dressed and get out of here."

Sarah frowned. "Not supposed to have people over?"

"That and he doesn't know I like girls—it would be a whole thing." She kissed her, hard and this time with longing. "If you're still here tomorrow, hit me up."

She wasn't there tomorrow.

She did leave a note for her though, slid under the door and labeled from your "FRIEND Sarah" with way too much emphasis on the "friend part". There wasn't anything life changing in that note, but Bernice kept it with her in her purse. Years later her fiancé would ask her who "Sarah" was and she finally took it out and hid it in a drawer.

It was embarrassing to admit, but it was the only time someone had ever written her a note like that. She knew there hadn't really been emotion in it for Sarah, hell, the whole time Sarah was more concerned with making her feel good than worrying about herself. But sometimes she'd ask herself late at night when her wife was snoring next to her if she could have been something more to Sarah if they'd just had more time.

It was the kind of thought she wished she could push out of her mind.

But it was the first time she'd had a thought linger like that too.
 
 
This is a story about firsts.

Sang Mi and Kyon lay in bed together. They'd rolled over to face each other after he'd pulled off of her and he'd pulled the condom off.

They'd both asked each other if it was good, and reassured each other. "Sorry, I was a little nervous," he'd said.

She'd kissed him. "It was the best."

"It was the only."

She'd nuzzled into his chest. "Still, not everyone enjoys it the first time. It felt good. I thought I'd feel different now though."

"Yeah I think I get that. Like, I thought I'd feel like I was a man now, you know?"

He kissed her forehead.

"I... know what you mean, but in the other way," she ran her hand down his pecs. She liked that. He ran his hand down her back to her butt. "I really thought I'd finally feel... feminine. Connected to it all. You know, I thought I'd feel that way when I got my period. My mom prepared me for it. And then it happened and it just hurt. It didn't make me feel like a girl."

"Is this like... a gender confession?"

"No, not really. I guess. I don't know. I mean, I wanna do this again when you're ready. It's nice to just... feel like I'm here. Like my body is good. I don't usually feel that."

"I could probably go again, you know, whenever."

She laughed, and it was a real laugh. They were both sixteen. "You don't need to sound so eager, it's not like I'm going anywhere. You can just hold me for a little."

They kissed. And he did hold her. And they did go again.

And later he cheated on her and didn't tell her for three months. Because they were stupid teenagers. And she hated him for that later, but she did look back on her first time fondly. Regardless of anything later, for that moment, she was safe, and warm, and happy, and felt good, and he was sweet and gentle and kind.

And somehow, everything bad later didn't ruin that memory.

* * *

He'd chosen this body-bepple just to impress him. He didn't even really like it, but Chris Cwej knew that Eli was always looking at people with this body-modification. He'd hoped this would be the end result. He knew it was ridiculous, going this far for a boy's attention. But anyone who had rolled their eyes could eat it—because it had worked. Eli had known what he was doing, and Chris had been content to let him do it.

"I thought I'd feel different," Chris said finally.

"What do you mean?" Eli replied.

"I mean, I thought I'd feel like a man. Grown up. Or like I liked my body, I guess."

"They have body bepples for that," Eli said obliviously.

"Yeah, I'll look into that," Chris deflected. "But don't you know what I mean? I thought sex would fix me."

"Not really, honestly. You saying it was bad?"

Panicking, Chris sat up and waved his hands. "No! No way, it was great, I'd love to do it again. I mean, when you, uh, yeah... Was it good?" he asked.

"Yeah. It was good. You uh, hadn't done this before had you?"

Chris laughed. "Found me out, huh?"

"It wasn't that hard."

"That's not true," Chris winked.

Eli blinked, and then it clicked and he shoved him playfully and kissed him. Their hands moved down, and touched each other once again. "That was a bad joke, it wasn't even funny." Eli said afterwards, but he was still smiling. Chris liked that he was smiling.

There was a part of Chris that felt a pang of regret that he knew this was all there was going to be—he'd looked a way that had caught Eli's eye and got him going, and he didn't have any interest in Chris beyond that. Chris wanted there to be more. He wanted to tell Eli that he knew what kind of movies he liked, or that he'd learned how to waltz because he'd planned to join the ballroom dance class Eli had quit later the same week.

He'd wanted all of this—and by the Goddess it had been good. He felt an aura of calm and satisfaction all down his body. Eli tolerated him cuddling, but the boy was already on his phone. They were both sixteen.

But there was another part of Chris that was relieved. He'd checked this box off, gotten this over with. And it had been good. He could make it matter the next time. He wouldn’t hurt knowing that his partner would leave when he got up to use the bathroom, and then hurt again when his instincts were proven exactly right.

He liked to think that that pang in his heart taught him to be kinder to his partners afterwards, more attentive to their needs. It wasn't the end he'd wanted, but he didn't feel bad about how his first time had gone. He'd chosen it, and somehow everything bad later didn't ruin that memory.
 
 
 

This is a story about a prisoner. 

He had been in prison for four years, and each of those years had been the same. It was hard to say anything interesting about his time. Every day was the same. Once a year, someone would come to visit him, which was the highlight of each year. He read a lot of books. He watched all of "The Owl House" and "Grey's Anatomy". He only got in one fight, but after that no one tried to fight him again. He wished after that he'd held back—it would have at least given him something to do if someone tried to fight him again.

That all changed the day he had two visitors, neither of whom was his usual.
 
The first was a woman in all black, like a mourning Victorian widow complete with a ridiculous veil. She sat waiting for him with her hands folded one over the other, the blank front of her veil facing him as he was led towards her. Once the guard had left, she didn't waste time.

"How would you like to get out of here?"

He shrugged. "Not if it means I'm in debt to you. I have time."

"I'm aware. You aren't the only immortal in this world. You think I don't know who and what you are? Why else would I be here?"

He smirked. "Please. You're not the first person to come here and offer me clemency."

"Yes I am," she said.

He unsmirked.

"You're not cute, and you're not fooling me with your faux confidence. I can free you. From here, and from your... affliction."

"And if I don't want to be free?"

"Then die alone, Archie MacTavish."

"That won't be my end. We're done here. Come back if you have a real offer."

She got up soundlessly, fluidly, and walked from the room.
 
 
The second guest was much less subtle. He sat in a beige suit with a brown tie, flicking through a copy of Crime and Punishment. He wasn't reading it, he was just performing, the drama queen. Archie slid into the seat in front of him. Waiting for the man to stop pretending he didn’t know he was there.

"Oh, I didn't see you there!" he lied, eyes shining and his smile pulling up his white beard.

"Are you with the widow?" Archie asked.

"Who? No, doesn't matter. I'm here for myself. And hopefully for you. Call me Agalon. One word, like Ulysses, though I'd never call myself him."

"You're offering to set me free? In exchange for what?"

"In exchange for you to do what you would already do. We have the same mandate, you and I. Unfortunately our friends have had several... bad goes at it. 1893 Chicago. 2020 London. 2023 Yorkshire. Among others. We've had a bad run. You know that yourself, you were there in 2020. But we only need to win once."

He examined the man closer. He could see it, upon further inspection. They shared a fate. "Okay, you also work for them."

"We want the same thing. And things are happening. Things that will benefit us. A darker world, one less kind, one that meets the needs of your benefactors. And one you will be most suited to."

He leaned back. "So how would you get me out, exactly?"

He gestured vaguely. "Oh, you know. We live in a silly world. I took the liberty of sending some very complimentary letters on your behalf to several very needy politicians. I can get you extradited to the USA, where you'll be pardoned immediately. What do you say?"

Archie leaned in. "What's the catch?"

He was nonchalant. "I really do just want you to do what you already would. Set the Yssgaroth free. I'll even give you a gift to help."

Archie gestured for this to be shown.

Agalon obliged, setting it down on the table with a smack.

"Well, I never said I wasn't above taking bribes."

 
 
This is a story about the Pentagon.

Archie had nice shoes now. They were the nicest shoes he'd ever owned, and cost more than his old salary had been in a month.

"You look sick," director Mark Ronaldson said.

"This is just how I look," he replied.

Ronaldson shrugged. "Whatever. I hear that we got you busted out of jail in the UK to be here, what were you in for? A lot of the guys here at EDEM were in for weird stuff with minors."

"Nothing like that." Actually that thought disgusted him.

"Well, whatever it is, I hear you know a lot about this UFO-alien-Roswell stuff."

"You could say that."

He clapped him on the shoulder. "Well welcome aboard man! EDEM is cool, you know. We're not like other organizations. We don't really have like, oversight or regulations so we can do what we want! It's really neat."

"So it would seem," he replied. Archie didn't know a lot of things, but he was sure of this: this man was an idiot.

And he'd be glad when he was dead.

It was just a matter of time.
 
 
 
 
This is a story about a Squonk.

The squonk lived in the woods of Northern Pennsylvania, and had for a long time. It lived there alone. It knew there were other squonks out there somewhere, squonking and crying, but he couldn't bear the thought of looking for them, for he was too hideous, and whenever he saw his face, he would sob and sob and sob, and his tears were never ending. Sometimes hunters would follow his tears and he would flee, crying even more. Thankfully he had never been caught yet.

He was scared, and sad, and very very alone.
 
But this isn't just a story about a squonk. 

This is a story about a girl. This girl had a name, and it was Julie. One night she was combing her hair, trying to get the strands to fall over the right side of her face so it was as hidden as it could be. She was getting it more covered, but it also made her look lopsided. But better to be teased for being lopsided than what she was. She only wore long sleeves these days, on her pants and her shirt, even when the summer heat was so bad that she felt parched after riding her bike just a little bit. But those long sleeves rubbed against her skin, and even with all the lotions and creams that hurt—hurt so much she would bite down on her rubber keychain to keep from crying out or grinding her teeth to dust. But that pain was still preferable to hearing people say things about her. Not that it stopped them totally, but it did make it all less. And less was at least better.

She was also trying to avoid her parents shouting at each other. This had become a very common occurrence since the accident. Her mother yelled that if her father hadn't been drinking, that she wouldn't be disfigured and ugly. Her father yelled back that he'd only had two beers, and it was her fault their daughter was horrible to look at for not bothering to hook up the child-seat properly.

Couldn't one of them just be glad she was alive?

Eventually the shouting settled down, and ended with two doors being slammed and two different TVs going to war with the volume on different shows, and Julie Paulson went to her window—it overlooked the mudroom of the house, and so she could slip out onto its sloping roof and then she could drop down onto the trash cans, and then onto the dew-covered grass of the lawn. She knew she shouldn't be out this late at night alone—her parents had a strict rule about getting home when the street lights turned on. She was well aware how scary the world could be.

But at this point, she didn't care.

Shoving her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, she marched across the grass towards the darkness of the trees. She'd brought her phone with her, so she had light if she needed it. Light felt in all too short supply for her. Soon her footsteps were crunching branches and leaves, and she was following the deer trail into the woods. It led to a tree she liked--she called it the special tree, which was a name she was proud of. If she had friends, she knew they'd laugh at it. But Eliza hadn't responded to any of her messages since she saw her at the hospital, and Leticia had blocked her.

She'd expected everyone to rally around her when she needed them. She'd thought that she'd mattered to them. She wanted to say that that pain hurt worse than her skin, but that was a lie.

Her skin hurt worse than anything she'd been able to imagine.

She clasped her hands together, intertwining her fingers, and trying to look as devout as she could.
 
Please God, just give me one friend. One friend who can understand me.
 
There are many times when people pray. Julie’s family waffled between being very religious and not at all. They would get very into a new pastor opening a new church, and it would become her parents’ personality for about a month and a half before they would lose steam and their attendance would go from weekly to bi-weekly to monthly to not at all. Julie prayed when she was supposed to, and didn’t pray when it wasn’t asked.

But not tonight.

Tonight as she said her "amen", she heard something new.

Crying. It wasn't quiet, but it was that muffled crying from someone who was trying to keep their tears hidden but crying too hard to actually manage the task. She got up from the roots of the tree and followed the sound.

But it wasn't just the sound.

There were clues there—little tear drops forming a path to follow along, beading on the hard ground. She didn't know how she knew they were tears, she just did.

Pushing through the brush, she saw it.

It was on four legs, skin baggy and bunched up. Its head was something between a buffalo and a frog's, and it stood looking into its reflection in a puddle of its own tears, which only made it cry more. By any assessment, it was ugly.

"Are you okay, Mr. Creature?" she asked.

It turned, and its eyes grew wide. Its body started to... lose form, growing shaky like he was turning to gelatin.

Hastily, she pulled her hair aside. "It's okay, if you don't like how you look. I understand. I'm like you too."

He stared at her, and he started to grow solid again. One foot in front of the other, he walked over to her, and she sat down. He lay his head on her lap gently. She reached down to pet him—he wasn't soft. His fur was like brush bristles. But she didn't care.

For the first time since the accident, Julie didn't feel alone.

It was then, in her moment of peace, that she looked up and saw it: a light that beamed down on her and the Squonk, so bright it shut out the shadows. It came from something big, turning and strange. And she knew that she was not alone in another way, too.
 
 
* * *
 

"I want to find a monster."

Sang Mi said this so definitively that Chris at first could only nod and give her a thumbs up, accepting this statement wholesale. They drove on for another ten minutes before he thought to ask. "Wait, like, any monster or a specific one?"

"This one!" she said, holding a page of their book Roadside Oddities of America up to him.

"I'm uh, driving," he said, veering around a pothole. "Let me pull over..." Once he'd gotten onto the gravel on the shoulder, he took a look at what she was showing him. "A... Squonk?"

The picture was an illustration from 1910 of a quadruped critter with loose-fitting skin and a dour expression.

Sang Mi waggled the image in front of him. "Yes! It cries all the time, and it dissolves into a puddle of tears if you find it."

He nodded. Then he narrowed his eyes. Then he overly cautiously put a hand on her shoulder. "Sang Mi, is this a cry for help?"

She pushed his hand off. "No, I just think he's neat. Look at him! He's just a wacky lil guy!"

"Is he?"

The look she gave him said clearly that:
1. Yes, he is.
2. It would be best if he agreed.
"Yes, he is," Chris agreed.

"He lives in Pennsylvania, if he exists. About where we're passing through. Well, okay a small detour."

"It's not a small detour, is it?" Chris asked.

"Well. No."

"Thought so," he said, and put the location into the GPS anyway. 


* * *
 

They pulled into town, had lunch, and came out of town with a commemorative Squonk plushie that had tears on its face, and both sipping from giant slushies in commemorative cups.

"I don't know how today has gone like this," Chris said.

"Oh please, you're the one who kept insisting the plushie was super cute when I tried to leave," Sang Mi said.

"You're the one hugging and hogging it."

She held it up to his face and moved it up and down as she gave it a high pitched voice. "You can hug me later Chris! I'm the Squonk and I could use all the cheering up. I'm so sad! Won't you be my friend?"

"Of course I'll be your fri—I'm not talking to the stuffed animal."

She keeled over laughing, stumbling her way back over to the Odyssey. As she was about to open the door, she noticed a set of black SUVs a few blocks down. As the back door on one opened, a man in all black tactical gear with the green letters EDEM on the back and front breast hopped out, holding a machine gun.

E.D.E.M. An organization focused on getting rid of anything like aliens or cryptids, and who delighted in doing it brutally.

She sobered up quick. "You can't be serious. I thought they got eaten?"

Chris looked where she was. "A lot of them did. They must have chosen a new director." He grabbed the plushie from Sang Mi, and looked into its bead-eyes. 

"...We'll save you, lil guy."

Sang Mi couldn't even muster up the heart to tease him. "Yeah. We sure will." 
 

* * *
 

They hid behind some bushes, which didn’t feel suspicious at all, as they waited for the EDEM agents to make their way into the forest. Then, they followed.

The agents were not subtle, stealthy, nor silent. Their thick boots crunched as they walked, their bulky gear caught on tree branches and thorns.

“This is weird,” Sang Mi said. “I feel like I got better military training at my school.”

Chris knew that that was true. He knew the implications of that. He also knew he didn’t want to confront them. “Hey look, they’re heading that way!” he deflected as they headed the same way they had been. With each step, they moved faster.
 
 
This is a story about running.

Julie was not strong, but she found the strength within her to pick up the Squonk and carry it. She had only just made her friend a few weeks ago, and she sure as heck wasn’t going to let him get taken away by scary men.

Every day Julie would sneak out to see the Squonk. She brought him her favorite foods (scrambled eggs and pancakes), which he would eat with vigor. She'd tell him about her day, and they'd play with a frisbee she'd found in the basement her dad had gotten at a job fair five years ago. The Squonk was pretty bad at catching it, but it was still fun. Even when people were being nice they were pitying her. They'd either look away or stare too hard. She was tired of it. It was nice to feel like she could just exist.

Now the men in big boots with big guns wanted him. She ran hard. But there was something else wrong.

That light she had seen before, every night. It was back. Only this time, she wasn’t the only one who could see it.

“Oh shit,” one of the men said, and raised his gun. He fired, and a burst came from the ship and all of a sudden the man wasn’t there and the air was filled with that burning smell you get when you leave a plastic plate on the burner when it’s cold and forget it there when you turn it on again.

A man and a girl came bursting through the trees, and the man wrapped her in a hug, shielding her from the men with guns, and looking up at the flying saucer.

“It’s okay, my name is Cwej, I’ve got you—”

And then they lifted up off the ground, rising in a beam of light into the air, as the Squonk squonked.

 
On the ground, Sang Mi looked up dumbfounded, and then looked back at the dozen soldiers pointing assault rifles at her. Slowly, she put her hands up.

 
This is a story about a sword.

When the EDEM agents took Sang Mi’s sword, they didn’t know that it was special. To them, taking a sword felt nowhere near as important as taking a gun. One of them joked about it, after all, why would someone seriously use a sword in 2025? They had Stivala Arms Assault Rifles; what use would a sword be?

They were, of course, complete morons.

Sang Mi’s sword was special. It was a hwando, a type of Korean sword. She’d gotten it on her very first adventure with Chris, on the spaceship called The Point of Know Return which had been in orbit around her planet. It had been a gift—one of her planet’s most carefully guarded secrets, and most potent weapons: blades with mono-molecular edges. These blades could cut through things. Too many things.

When Chris first encountered the sword, he had been incredulous. They’d used it to cut through the hull of a spaceship repeatedly.

Transplanting that sword here, into the wrong place, it was like an invasive species overtaking an environment. A glitch in a videogame that breaks the balance. He’d almost told Sang Mi not to take it with her, but in Violethill it didn’t seem like it would do too much harm, and then things progressed from there.

But she did take the sword with her.

And now there was a sword that didn’t follow the laws of reality here.
Whoops?
 

This is a second story about a kidnapping.

The zip ties hurt, and whenever she tried to adjust her hands the man next to her in black tactical gear gave her a look that made her think actually remaining uncomfortable was just fine.

The man across from her though, he hadn't looked away yet. Sang Mi imagined saying a lot of sarcastic and witty one liners to the man that would really show 'em. But in reality she was terrified. In her head, she boldly kept her head held high and didn't let any of the tension of the event show. But in reality, after being zip tied and thrown violently into the back of an unmarked black van, she found herself crying and instead of a witty rejoinder said "Please let me go."

"No," the man across from her said.

She sniffled.

He pulled his face mask down, and removed his black sunglasses and helmet. Before her was a green eyed and black haired Caucasian man, with a slender face with high cheek bones. "You're not from here," he said in a British accent with a tinge of Scotland.
Sang Mi sucked her sniffles in and managed the closest thing to a witty rejoinder she could. "So are you."

"That's true. You're from a bit farther though."

The SUV rocked back and forth. The guard next to her pulled down his mask to take a drink from a nasty looking dark liquid in a plastic bottle. She looked back to the green eyed man.

"You seem more put together than the other EDEM guys we've met—ow!"

The man in tactical gear had whacked her.

The blue eyed man raised a hand and the other lowered his own.

"I should actually thank you, what happened with Director Ronaldson was tragic, but I've been suffering as Assistant Director to an incompetent nepotism hire for months now. He was weak, and EDEM cannot afford to be weak."

"Picking on little guys isn't being strong."

"That's what the little guys always say. As though we care."

Sang Mi tried to center herself. What would Chris do, right now? He wouldn't give up, that was for certain. She focused on the pain in her wrists. If they were going to hurt her, she could use that. The discomfort. The aches and pains. She let it overtake her anxiety, her fear. She just hurt. And that was unhappy. And when it was all she could think about, she could think about something else.

Okay.

Center yourself. Push past the pain now.

Where are you?

The back of an SUV.

Who is the man in front of you?

The head of EDEM. He's British, maybe Scottish. 

No, born in Scotland but lived in London most of his life.

Have you met him before?

No.

But why do you feel a sense of familiarity?

This last question was the hardest. She examined his face, blinking away her tears as much as she could. There was something about his face... She'd seen it before...

"You're a vampire!" she concluded suddenly.

He looked mildly impressed. "I read your file, you encountered the Yssgaroth in 1893 Chicago. I see you haven't forgotten."

"But we beat the Yssgaroth?"

"You won a battle in a war that will be going on long after you rot."

"Kinda rude...."

"Kinda true. You're in violation of US law. After all, you're not even from this reality, let alone this planet, let alone this country."

"Isn't that... massively hypocritical from the guy infected with evil reality rot from another universe who is also Scottish?"

He shrugged. "Consistency is for the weak. It doesn't matter that I don't fit the guidelines, that's strength."

What a prick. "Who are you anyway?"

He raised his chin. "Archie MacTavish. I used to be a member of a well-known but under-funded paranormal research organization. Now I'm the head of an organization with a budget in the billions."

She mustered the strength to roll her eyes.

"I was extradited from Belmarsh Prison in the UK for this job. My expertise was needed."

"Knowing EDEM you probably complimented someone online and they let you out."
He was quiet for a moment.

"Oh my God I was kidding. And stop acting like you're important. I have no idea who you are!"

"How I got released isn't important," he deflected. "As head of EDEM I am important, whether you like it or not."

Still riding the high of somehow getting under his skin while being his prisoner, without actually meaning to, Sang Mi pressed her luck.

“You haven’t had a date in ages, have you?”

“I think we’re done talking for now.”

She got to be smug for only a little bit, before they came to a halt.

Sang Mi was shoved out the back of the SUV, which she had expected. But what she didn’t expect was to see the UFO, landed in a clearing, surrounded by supply trucks and a large military style campsite. EDEM agents were going in and out of the craft from a big onboarding ramp.

She looked back at Archie.

She looked back at the UFO.

"Huh," she said.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

"Did you build it?" She asked, as her personal guard shoved her forward.

"No, we just killed the aliens who came in it. They came in peace, ironically."

She let her open disgust show.

"Oh please. Your file says you had military training in school, and you're put off by putting that into practice? We don't need to be like those peacenik losers in our rival groups. If humanity is stronger than aliens, then we should show it."

"Bullshit," she mumbled.

He turned his eyes on her. His gaze was piercing. "What was that?"

"...Nothing."

She was led up the entry ramp—a massive sheet of smooth steel she found it difficult to walk on, and it led up into a hatch which popped open into a gigantic circular control room. Windows lined the room, which could be seen from between the two plate-like halves of the craft from the outside. The room had few natural barriers, and so the bits that EDEM had installed into it stood out like sore thumbs. One of those was a cage, awkwardly placed off-center in the room, in which she could see her friend Chris, the girl with the Squonk, and... two EDEM agents?

"SANG MI? ARE YOU OKAY?" Chris yelled.

"Mostly!" she called back. She looked back to Archie. "Why are your own people in there?"

"Oh, they weren't supposed to know what was going on. They'll be summarily executed later, but in a way that's helpful." He grinned. "Wanna know my evil plan?"

She sighed. "Go for it."

"EDEM has been struggling ever since our previous director and so many of our wealthy supporters were killed or injured in the Churubusco incident."

Sang Mi snorted a laugh. Archie frowned at her.

"Sorry, sorry! It's not funny!" She snorted a second laugh. "It's really sad and stuff."

"Regardless... the only thing that can really cause us to lose power is to lose the support of the people in power. And when you have a bloodbath like at Churubusco, people start asking questions about why you're being given so many billions of dollars."

"Must be real tragic for you."

"It is," he deadpanned. "So what we need is a very public victory. And unfortunately, when this town comes under attack, many civilians will meet a tragic end, and many EDEM agents are going to give their lives in the service of their country. But EDEM will heroically power through, and destroy this UFO."

Sang Mi was silent. "That is an evil plan," she concluded.

"Aren't you going to ask why I bothered telling you?"

"Naw, I figured it out."

He grinned again. "Of course you did. They said you were clever. But did you figure out why we need the Squonk?"

"...No, not really."

"Then we'll demonstrate soon enough." He looked to one of the EDEM soldiers, who was relaxing while drinking some of the same dark liquid the guard in the car had been, "Time to lift off, Mr. Henning."

"Yessir!" he called back.

What was interesting was that Mr. Henning didn't touch anything. Instead he took a breath, stepped into a circle at the very center of the room, closed his eyes, and looked almost meditative. The ship lifted off the ground, and the ramp began to raise.
 
* * *

This is a story about an invasion.

Michael Paulson was putting the dishes away when it began. It was something to do.
Julie was gone from her bed when they’d woken up. She’d taken her bag, worn her best walking shoes, and gone downstairs to pack snacks and take a flash light. The police had concluded she’d likely run away and would be mounting a search. That was until he got the call that the search was being called off.

He screamed into the receiver, demanding they restart it.

“It’s not up to us. EDEM has full jurisdiction right now.”

He’d stormed over to the woods, planning to search them himself, but they were taped off and men with assault rifles stood watch.

When they threatened to shoot him, he went home.

And so he was doing dishes. The only thing he could do.

That was until the flying saucer rose into the sky. It spun, its top and bottom halves rotating in different directions, and a bright light beaming down from the bottom.

“PUNY EARTHLINGS! IT IS THE TIME TO MEET YOUR DOOM UNLESS YOU SURRENDER TO THE QUILLIPPPI CONSORTIUM!”

A screeching wail came from the saucer, and at first he thought nothing had happened, but then he felt the despair. The deep despair. He dropped to his knees, and he knew he would never be happy again.

 
* * * *
 

Archie had ordered his men to take the Squonk from Julie. It cried, and she cried, and they hit her in the face which caused her nose to bleed and for her to let go. But before they did that they had to smash Cwej in the face first as he tried to fend them off.

They carried the Squonk to the circle, and set it there. It didn’t seem like anything was happening, but Chris was looking horrified.

“I see that one of our guests has realized what’s going on,” Archie said.

“You’re projecting the Squonk’s grief onto them. You’re filling them with despair.”

Archie just smiled.

Chris looked around. He had to figure something out. Fast.

Then he saw it.

“Hey, you there. Nice sword.”

The man looked down at the sword which he’d set down on a crate. “It’s just a sword.”

Chris laughed. “To you maybe. I bet you can’t even swing it.”

“Of course I can swing it. It’s not hard.”

Chris scoffed. “Okay, tough guy.”

The man marched over to the cage. “You realize you’re the prisoner here, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. But I’m not the one scared of a sword.”

The man grabbed the sword. “You listen here, I’m going to come in there and bash your face in if you keep talking like that.”

“Go on then, do it, Mr. Too-Scared-To-Swing-a-Sword.”

The man’s friend tried to interject. “Hey Jeff, he’s clearly taunting you—”

“NOT NOW CARL!” He drew the sword from the sheath. It reflected things in its blade in a way that looked wrong, too real to be real. “I’ll show you. You'll be begging me for mercy when I’m done with you.” As if to demonstrate, he banged the sword against the bars of the cage.

This was actually a better result than Chris had anticipated. He’d had a whole elaborate plan, but this sped things up. Because the sword didn’t bang against the bars.

The monomolecular blade broke the rules of physics, and seamlessly cut through the cage.

The man lost his balance in the swing, and Chris took that opportunity to reach through the bars—one hand grabbed his wrist, the other pulled the sword from his grip.

Getting out of the cage after that was easy.

“Stay here,” he told Julie.

Sang Mi, seeing what was happening, threw her body weight at the guard next to her and, as he staggered with an “oof”, ran for Cwej. With a simple slice, he cut her bonds, and handed her the sword. Archie scowled, and pulled a long black rod with a gem attached to the end out. They recognized that gem immediately—they’d seen others like it.

“A magic wand!” Sang Mi said.

“A control scepter,” Archie bit back.

The fight began.

 
 
This is a story about Julie.

She was not the kind of girl who saved the day. She could barely save herself. When the crash had happened, she had had to learn several terrible things at once. Her father had been drinking, and he and her mom were yelling at each other.

The first thing that happened was the deer walking in front of the car. The second was her father saying a bad word and turning the wheel of the car hard to the left. The third was the car slipping off the road, bouncing against a ditch, and then spinning as it fell down the hill below it. The roof hit the ground, and she remembered hearing herself scream, but it was like the voice belonged to someone else. Something cold was trickling through the car. It smelled horrible. Only later would she know this was gasoline. The car’s engine didn’t stop—it sounded like it was ripping itself apart trying to run.

She hung upside down, and her parents unbuckled themselves, and what happened next would always stick with her.

Her mother simply ran. It was hard to fathom for her, to reconcile. She watched her bolt, her feet on a ceiling of grass, stumbling and scrambling without looking back.

Her father unbuckled himself, and got out. He did not run. But he could have gone to her side of the car. She was closer, after all. But instead he rushed around the car, and opened the door to get her brother. He pulled him out to safety. It was then that she realized that no one was coming for her. She was no one’s favorite child.

Everything was a priority before her.

And then the gasoline lit up.

If she hadn’t been buckled in, she’d have been in the puddle below her, and she’d have died. But she still lit on fire on the side the liquid had dribbled down from the ceiling.

She was alone. And she was abandoned. And no one loved her enough to save her.

A voice in her head said that she should give up, and let herself burn. Another wanted to panic. But the voice that yelled the loudest said she was going to live, no matter what anyone else believed, she deserved to live. She reached for the door handle, blood still flooding to her head. She recoiled—it was hot. The air was filling with smoke. The inside of the car was so hot it was hard to think.

She reached again. She was going to live. Reaching burned her hand. Pulling the handle burned her worse.

She felt lightheaded from the pain. But she shoved the door open, and clicked her seatbelt—hurling herself out of the car.

She rolled down the hill—and that unintentionally helped a lot. When she reached the bottom she ripped off her smoldering clothes and collapsed onto the rough ground.

She passed out from the pain at that point.

But she lived.

Even if every person in the world said she didn’t deserve to live, she decided she was going to. And there in the flying saucer, she knew she had one task: she had to rescue her friend.

She had to be brave. The man called Cwej and the teenage girl Sang Mi were fighting Mr. Archie, and the door to her prison was open. There was the Squonk, crying in the circle, surrounded by armed men.

She had to be brave.

She crawled out from the cage, and ducked behind consoles and boxes till she was close to the circle. The Squonk looked up at her. She had one shot at this.

She sprinted towards the circle.

“Hey—stop!”

She dropped to the ground—sliding like she’d seen baseball players do, and slipped under the armed man’s gloved hands. She thought she’d done it—when she felt those same hands grab her legs. She put in one great effort, and stretched her arms out as far as she could, grabbing the Squonk by the front feet. 

The man pulled her back. And then said “Oh shit,” as he realized what he had done.

The Squonk and her slid out of the circle.

And the saucer’s beams powered down.
 
 
This is a story about surprise.

Archie had been dueling the pair, and he felt good about his chances. The girl had a sword that could cut through anything. Cwej was wielding a rifle like a club. And Archie had his scepter with the gem he’d been gifted. He knocked Cwej back, and the girl came in to try to stab him, but as he dodged her blow he focused on the scepter, and dark tendrils shot from it—knocking her to the ground and pulling the sword from her grip. She screamed, and he felt pretty good about how things were going.

Then the ship shook.

And he looked over to see that the Squonk was not in the circle. One of his idiotic guards had let one of the prisoners slip through. That shouldn’t have happened. He was about to win. In that moment, he let himself get caught up in his feelings. He didn’t like to think of himself as that kind of person. He thought he was a different kind of man.
But the sword had been picked up from the ground, and as he pulled his attention away from the Squonk, trying to keep his balance as the ship rocked, there was a sudden sharp pain in his chest.

He looked down to see the sword through his heart.

He was a vampire. He wasn’t supposed to die. It took a very special kind of thing to be stabbed through his heart to kill him. For a moment, he laughed. He started to reach for the sword to pull it out, but then felt his knees give out under him.

“Oh,” he said, as he realized that a sword from another universe that broke the laws of physics was probably exactly the kind of special thing that could kill him.

Chris didn’t bother to finish him off, he let him slide to the floor. It didn’t matter. Everyone knew what had happened.
 
 
This is a story about death.

Archie thought he knew death, but what he had become meant he experienced a strange sort of one. But it had had remarkably few consequences. He was in most ways still alive. He'd suffered a death that meant he still walked, and tasted, and felt, and saw. He moved, and was not still. What was happening now was very different. This was an ending.

A real ending.

In a little while, there would be no more Archie MacTavish, forever.

This thought was not a relief.

It was terrifying. He'd heard the cliche that life flashed before your eyes before death, but as his eyes began to lose their shine, he didn't find that to be the case for himself.

No, it was his future. All the possibilities. All the paths he could have taken from here. He was supposed to do so much. He'd been chosen, after all. He was someone now.

Agent of the Yssgaroth. Director of EDEM.

He should have led things into the future. He should have stood at the top of the hill. Instead here he was, feeling the life drain out of him.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't FAIR.

At that moment, he felt someone take his hand. It was warm. Warmer than his already cold body by quite a lot.

He used some of his fading energy to turn his head. It was the girl, Sang Mi .

"It's you," he said.

"Yeah," she replied.

"I didn't think I'd end like this."

"Who would?"

"I barely even know who you are."

"I know you even less."

"I had a rival once. You know, a best friend. The kind of guy who thought a pony tail made him look unique. I always thought if I bit it he'd be right there. A fitting end. It would feel right. Satisfying."

"Death is never satisfying. It just sucks."

He coughed, and blood spluttered from his lips.

"I certainly didn't think you'd be here, giving me kindness."

She laughed, which felt both rude and totally fitting. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you'll be dead. But I'm trying to be a different kind of person."

He nodded. "It would have been good to die with someone who loved me, or cared about me. Or even knew me. But this will do. This will do... Where did the light go?"

"It's still bright in here."

He felt terror.

"Is all that awaits me darkness? Is... is this how it is forever?"

She squeezed his hand. "I don't think so."

He nodded, and his fingers fell loose, and his head tilted.

 
Chris came over, and put his hand on Sang Mi’s shoulder. "You did a good thing. Who was he?"

She shrugged. "Some asshole. Let's go."

 
The saucer was tilting to the side, and the EDEM soldiers inside were scrambling for footing. Chris ran to grab Julie and the Squonk—the soldiers who had been guarding it had pretty quickly left their posts when they realized the jig was up. Sang Mi, however, was running for two things that were right next to each other.

She pulled her sword out of Archie's chest, which was gross, but easy. It slid out, his body flopping down the sloping floor like a ragdoll. And as it did, she grabbed his scepter.

"This thing is going to crash!" Chris called, holding Julie, who was holding the Squonk.
"Right—I'll make an exit."

Sang Mi lifted her sword in both hands, and shoved it down into the floor. If it was following any form or function, it should have merely scraped against the floor. Instead, it slid through the floor as if it was warm butter, and she made a nice nearly-circular hole that dropped out from the ship.

"We'll still hit the ground, you know!" Chris called.

"Right," she hadn't thought of that. Probably should have.

"Wait, I've got it!"

She held out the scepter, it was basically a magic wand, right?

"Abracadabra!" she yelled, pointing it at the hole in the ship.
 

This is a story about magic.

First of all, magic isn't real, so check that off your list.

Second off, magic is absolutely real, so check that off your list too.

Arthur C. Clarke said that any significantly advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. But what if the magic was just magic?

What if magic wasn't so much magic, but a glitch?

In this case, that might be the best explanation. Sang Mi's sword was a glitch, because it came from a different universe.

And the gem in the wand was a glitch for the same reason. And so when Sang Mi pointed the wand, and said a magic word, it wasn't that nothing happened. Something did happen. But it wasn't what she had planned. And it was only part of what Archie planned.

Here's what was unspoken: Archie knew Sang Mi had figured this out, and they didn't bother saying it, but all of this, all the tears and sadness and death, were part of a ritual. Sang Mi had seen rituals. Archie had done them before.

But there hadn't been enough sadness. Enough death. It had all been cut short. If it had worked, perhaps a giant gash would have appeared in the world and great things would have clambered out to feast and destroy.

But that didn't happen. Still, there was some sort of charge there in the wand, there were tears, and so something did open up.

A door.

And as the flying saucer began to crash into the forest, and the hull began to crumple and the fuel reserves began to burn, Chris knew there was really only one way out.

It wasn't a good idea, but they were going to do it anyway.

He carried Julie and shoved Sang Mi through that dark door.

And they were gone.

The saucer hit the ground. The hull tore apart—the two halves like two, well, saucers, broke away from each other, and explosions rocked the hull. Bodies fell from it, scattering through the forest. The top of the hull hit the ground and exploded. A shockwave followed: trees were torn from their roots, and EDEM agents and vehicles were blown through the air. The town beyond was rocked, and debris hit the sides of the buildings. But thankfully by that point everyone was already inside and taking cover. The other half of the saucer hit the ground on its edge, and rolled for a moment before falling over, hitting the ground with a quake, but without exploding. The shockwave threw cars around, and telephone poles were pulled over. It was all a mess. And in the distance, a man stirred.

 
This is a story about an EDEM agent.

Jason Vichy crawled out from the wreckage of the saucer. Everything had gone wrong, and gone wrong so quickly. Director MacTavish had promised glory, but gazing out at the forest, he didn't feel glorious. The forest was littered with bodies. Bodies of his friends, his comrades. He'd had a good time in EDEM. He'd ignored the cries of the half-alien children they'd kidnapped. He'd ignored his mother cutting off contact with him. He ignored the weird feeling the all-natural homeopathic drink Director MacTavish gave them had given him. He had been doing the right thing: he was keeping people safe from aliens. But for the first time, he questioned if maybe he was in fact on the wrong side of things.

Pulling himself up, he could feel broken ribs. He wasn't hearing much out of his right ear, and his right eye seemed fuzzy. "Hello?" he called out, and stumbled, catching himself on a tree. "Anyone?"

"Help?" he heard a raspy voice call out, and he rushed over towards it to find a woman with a support beam from the saucer on her legs. He tried to lift it, but it was too heavy.
She reached a hand out to him, and he rushed over to take it. "I don't... I don't feel good?"

He held her hand. She probably didn't have long. At least she wouldn't die alone. "I know, just hold in there, we'll get help."

She shook her head, and he thought he knew what that meant till she spoke. "No... something else. I think... I think something was in our drinks."

The drinks had been weird but... the woman began to convulse, and black lines began to fill her veins. The black lines began to drain though, bubbling up to build up in her throat which bulged, until something began to crawl up her throat and out of her mouth. First came a long spindly leg—the tip of it was sharp as a razor, and the rest was twitchy and segmented. More legs followed, and it pushed and slashed its way up out of her head. The bloody thing that revealed itself was like if a spider had too many legs to count, and all of those legs ended in knives. Its body was a pulsing mass of gore and hair.

Jason fell back, landing on his rear, and began to scamper back. The thing had no eyes, but it seemed to look at him.

He had to escape.

He turned, trying to push himself up again, and there was a shining piece of chrome from the saucer's hull, a broken shard that curved and distorted his features like a funhouse mirror. Even so, it was enough for him to see that his veins were turning black.

He had enough time to be afraid before he began to feel it knifing its way up his throat.
 

It was too bad Archie was dead, because it turned out his plan was working out after all.

 
* * *
 
This is a story about nowhere.

Sang Mi found herself there, alone. It was dark, but the darkness seemed to be made of strands of muscles. It was wet, and smelled like fresh nutmeg and rotting meat.

She rose, and saw herself.

And she knew it was not her.

She raised a hand, and the other one did as well.

"You're the Yssgaroth?" she asked. It was just a guess, but a pretty good one.

"You're a stranger to this world," she said in her own voice.

"So are you."

"We are the same."

"I mean... no... but... sure why not let's go with that. We're the same. So you're nice now."

"You're not nice. You want bad things to happen to people you dislike. Then you feel bad when it happens. Guilty. Beat yourself up. As though that makes it better."

The words stung. They really did hurt. But she knew this kind of bullying. She'd had it plenty of times before. It didn't matter if this thing was Cthulhu, she knew the type. She took a deep breath—which wasn't as relaxing as she'd hoped because of the wet air—and let it out. "You literally are trying to wipe out the world. Literally."

"Not true. We deserve to exist."

"I mean, I agree?"

"This place, it’s not yours. We should have it. There are people there. They are selfish. Living their lives on this ground. Living in flesh and hoarding their blood. We will free their blood from their bodies into the soil. We will make the land free. It is our right. We deserve this universe."

Sang Mi took all of that in. "Back home some people say that about my planet. Gongen. They want to take it over. Because we said we deserved to be independent. They think they have a right to live in the houses we built. Does that seem right to you?"

"Yes."

She looked at it. Really looked at it. She knew that this was just a form it was taking. It was something she couldn't understand. Something bigger, darker, more powerful. It was incomprehensible. She was trying to have a conversation with the toenail of a giant, and to think she knew what was on top of its head was hubris.

But she was feeling pretty confident.

"You're an invasive species. Just like me. You're a glitch, you're not supposed to be here."

"Then you have no right to judge us."

"Actually I do. Because I don't plan on living here, and I don't want to bulldoze their houses to build my own. Tell you what, let's make a bet. You have Chris and the little girl and Squonk, right? The little hooved guy? You copied me, so copy the Squonk. Feel what it feels. Embrace it. Do that, and if you enjoy it, you can have the planet."

The Yssgaroth stared blankly at her. "This is a trick."

"Of course it's a trick. But if you're so powerful, it shouldn't be a problem. I'll just be wrong."

It stared at her longer. And then the other Sang Mi's eyes rolled back, and she dropped to the ground. Her flesh began to bubble, and pull, and shift, and the real Sang Mi looked away. When she could bear to look back, there was a Squonk.

And its eyes grew wide, and teary.

 
* * *
 

Michael Paulson was having the worst day of his life. His daughter had vanished. Armed thugs had threatened him. Aliens had threatened to invade. Their ship had crashed, and sent a shockwave through the town, and now a swarm of spider-like horrors was crawling towards the town. Their legs looked like knives.

He looked at his wife. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about... everything. The drinking. What I said about our daughter. About..."

She pulled him into an embrace. "Me too... I... I'm so sorry."

The wailing pulled them apart. They looked out the window to see the swarm of horrors was stumbling about as if they were the drunk ones now. It was like they were desperate to cry, but had no eyes. Then the swarm lifted their knife-like arms into the air, angled them towards their lumpy bodies, and slid them in.

And suddenly there was silence.

 
* * *
 

Chris didn't really know how they got back in the forest, but he was with Julie, and the Squonk, and Sang Mi, who were all unconscious, and the forest was littered in horrifically mutilated bodies.

So he did the natural thing, and lifted all three of them. It was awkward, and not easy, but he'd had worse. Sang Mi was slung over his shoulder, Julie and the Squonk in his arms. The whole arrangement hurt, and he felt exhausted by the time they got out of the forest and he set them down on the ground, only to find a mess of meat and legs in the field leading up to the town.

He had a lot of questions.

But he didn't actually care about them as much as he cared about getting some rest.
He caught his breath, picked them back up, and made his way into town.

 
This is a story about recovery.

The Jovian Diplomatic Service rolled into town as quickly as they could. Relief tents were set up, and Brittany Mordley found herself swamped with tasks. The town had had remarkably few casualties and no fatalities. All things considered, the damage wasn't terrible. A lot of folks needed new cars, new powerlines had to be put up, and the buildings on the edge of town needed some real work, but she'd seen worse after an event like this.

More difficult to deal with was cataloguing the annihilation of the EDEM operations here. She hated EDEM, they opposed everything that the JDS stood for, but seeing the fates of what happened to the hundreds of agents who had been in the area chilled her to the bone. Somehow there had been no survivors, and it seemed they'd all been turned into monsters. They catalogued the bodies one by one, including EDEM Director MacTavish. She knew they'd just appoint another one, but rebuilding the personal loss here wouldn't be easy.

Nor would be explaining why there had been a flying saucer.

As she carried another crate of bottled water from a truck, she saw a family being reunited—a little girl and her pet... something, running to meet her parents and brother. How sweet.

She set the water down, and wiped her brow. What a day.

 
Chris and Sang Mi sat on the tailgate of the Odyssey, drinking some of the water the nice lady had handed them.

Sang Mi pulled the gem off the wand, and handed it to Chris.

"Found another one of these, I guess."

He took it, and without much fanfare, pocketed it.

"So... still glad you came with me? This was... well it has to have been a lot. I didn't want you to see stuff like this."

She looked into her bottle. "Archie, the EDEM guy, he used to help stop stuff like this."

That was news to Chris, but he just nodded so she'd keep talking.

"Honestly I don't think I've wanted to go home more than I have before. This was... horrible. A whole lot of people died." She wiped tears away. "And they were bad people, really bad people! But..."

"It's never easy." He scooted over and put an arm around her. "Should I take you home?"

She shook her head. "We saved people too. I heard no one died in the town. If we hadn't been here... We stopped the bad guys, right?"

"We did."

"I thought stopping the bad guys would feel better."

"Sometimes doing the right thing doesn't have a reward. It hurts and it makes you want to smash your hand with a rock. But you do it anyway. Because of who we are, you and me."

She thought about that. "Let's stay and help. Not... for forever. But let’s help them clean up. Care for people. I don't want to drive off into the sunset just yet. I don't feel like we're done."

He smiled. "I was hoping you would say that."
 

This is a story about a body.

Chris had felt it was appropriate to find someone to claim it. In the end, two women arrived, calling themselves freelancers who were ex-co-workers of his. One of them, a brown-haired woman, signed for it, while her black haired comrade who didn’t take her sunglasses off inside just stared at the body with her hands in her pockets.

“Friends?” Chris asked as she handed the clipboard back to the attendant.

“Used to be,” she said. “I’m Tasha, that’s Maxie.” Maxie raised a pale hand and shoved it back into her pocket. “He…” She looked at his corpse for a moment. “He was almost a whole person, you know? We almost… never mind. He tried to end the world twice. That’s really all there is to it in the end.”

Sang Mi nodded. “I guess so. I lit a candle for him at St. Matthew’s down the road. Maybe he’ll find his way out of the dark somehow.”

Tasha shrugged. “It’s all in the past now. I think it’s just time to let go, and move on.”

Chris put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve given yourself some great advice.”

They watched as the attendant shoved the body into the furnace. They weren’t supposed to be there, but as Sang Mi explained, “I learned you can do basically anything by bribing people in America!” The thumbs up she gave everyone while smiling was a little too optimistic for them to explain their discomfort with what she’d said, so everyone just nodded and smiled politely.

The body of Archie MacTavish burned, first the skin, then the muscles and sinew and organs, and then the bones. By the end there were only ashes.

And as the four of them left the room, they never returned.

 
This is a story about a girl and her Squonk.

The Squonk no longer lived in the woods, but in a house, where he was fed Hershey’s chocolate bars, and raisin bran cereal with milk, and tomato and cucumber salad, and whatever Julie thought sounded yummy. He wasn’t picky.

The Squonk would curl up on her feet while she slept, and he would wake her up in the morning, frolicking around the room happy to see her.

Julie and her parents didn’t immediately heal their relationship. There were a lot of things that might never fully mend. But they tried in a way they hadn’t before. The man who called himself Cwej and the Sang Mi girl had insisted her parents go to marriage counseling, and it didn’t solve everything, but it made most things better. The yelling and screaming lessened. And then one day it stopped.

Her mother took her shopping, just the two of them, and bought her new clothes.

Her dad looked into more surgery for her burns. She didn’t mind how she looked the way she had before, but she did mind the way her skin felt, and the treatments helped.

And most of all, both of them told her they were sorry. She had never expected that. She didn’t know what to say when they did; she just cried and they hugged her.

One night, she was sitting watching TV with her mom, dad, brother, and the Squonk. Everyone was laughing, and passing a bowl of cheap microwave popcorn around, and Julie realized that she finally didn’t feel alone.

It disappointed a lot of people, but from that day on, the Squonk didn’t cry anymore.
 

This is a story about a road trip.

It takes place in an orange Honda Element that they named the Odyssey. The back of the car can be used to sleep in, and they keep sleeping bags in there for just that. There are bags with all sorts of things: flashlights, or as Chris called them, torches, lots of snacks, a big bag of trash that they keep forgetting to throw out, a blue baseball bat custom engraved in Louisville, hospital discharge documents from Elkhart, a bobblehead of a Melonhead and two sets of baseball uniforms, several large gemstones, a projector in a box, a space-age gun, an equally space-age sword, and a book called Roadside Oddities of America.

This was a home. It might not look like a home, but it had become one. It became one when Chris and Sang Mi sang along to songs together on the radio, or argued about whether or not oat milk counted as dairy, or when they pulled over for the night and they stayed up too late as Sang Mi tried to teach Chris the steps to a dance from Gongen called “the Hongtu Shuffle.” He was terrible at it, and they laughed so much that the sun came up.

And there were a lot of scary moments too. Both of them almost died, and they got drugged and brainwashed and had to play baseball to win their freedom, and they found so many lonely people on the road. People who had lost things. People who were lost.


And they technically had a destination, but they were lost too.


Or they were supposed to be.


But as they pulled out of the town that night, Sang Mi turned on the radio, and it was playing Cupid by Fifty Fifty. Sang Mi started singing along, doing a ridiculous dance in her seat that involved too much elbow movement to be taken seriously, and might be better suited for a chicken imitation competition.


Chris tried to keep a straight face as she leaned his way, still waggling her elbows, and finally he cracked. He laughed, and as his face lit up in a smile, sung along too. They harmonized as they drove towards the rose glow of the sunset.


Someday this too would end.


But for this moment?


This was a story about friends.

---

Next Stop:
Remembrance
by Molly Warton

---

Copyright © 2025 Arcbeatle Press
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Edited by James Wylder and James Hornby
Formatting and design by James Wylder & Aristide Twain
Cover by Ari Michak
Illustrations by Bex Vee
Logo design by Lucas Kovacs
 
Concepts Used with Permission:
Academy 27 © Arcbeatle Press
WARSONG, WARS TCG, Gongen, Takumi, and associated concepts © Decipher, Inc.
Archie MacTavish, Tasha Williams, SIGNET and Charles Zoltan © James Hornby
Chris Cwej and associated concepts © Andy Lane
Yssgaroth © Neil Penswick
C.R.U.X © Aristide Twain
The Jovian Diplomatic Service, Blue Candle Coffee Company, E.D.E.M, Jhe Sang Mi, Jhe Sang Eun, Maxie Masters © James Wylder