Walter white license plate

hi everybody.
i'm here to address the notion that i've recently been a bad roommate that needs to learn to be better. apologies in advance for post length...
back in february, i went through a breakup. i thought i was gonna be with this person for a long time, but life had different plans. i found myself in a position where i had to find a new place to live within a two-week window. i was in a desperate scramble, but managed to end up securing a room in a 4 bed, 2 bath apartment with three strangers. the person that reached out to me about the listing seemed nice.
the four of us settled into the place pretty evenly. one roommate built a nice shelf that we put a bunch of our stuff on, and i put my TV out in the living room and was cool with people using it in the common space. despite thinking i was "settled," there was still a lot of breakup stuff that i needed to process. i didn't want to dump it onto my roommates, so i ended up spending a lot of time in my room with my own thoughts. this is something that i know was a big mistake, because i was giving an immediate impression that i wasn't able to contribute to the household.
over time, i felt a little more comfortable, and started to chat with my roommates more. i tried to be as mindful as possible about not being a total debbie downer around them.
we were all getting along fine at first, but things slowly took a turn in the wrong direction, particularly with the roommate that i share a bathroom with. i'll admit, i wasn't cleaning up after myself in the bathroom like i should have, and would sometimes leave hair in the tub that i needed to be more attentive towards. i acknowledged my mess up and was more proactive in cleaning up after showering. in addition, i was so low on funds at the time that i was using some of the various toiletries she got for the bathroom (mainly just the hand soap) but wasn't able to refill it in a timely manner. i admitted to these mistakes as fast as i could.
one of the things that i brought from my last apartment was a nice vacuum cleaner that my parents bought me. this roommate began to use it in her room and the common areas, which i didn't mind. while i was away one weekend she had broken part of the vacuum. initially, i thought the whole vacuum needed to be replaced, but when i realized that just the belt needed to be replaced, the whole situation seemed a lot more manageable. i told her that i would be cool with doing that, and that's where the subject was left. i know that she had other things on her plate, so I didn't want to bring it up again out of courtesy. i was going to just buy the replacement belt myself, fix it, and be done with it.
another week goes by, and i come home from hanging out at a friend's house. i get settled in, and without warning, she starts to vent to me about how she feels uncomfortable as a white person in a predominantly black neighborhood. she doesn't consider herself a gentrifier, and doesn't understand why people in the area give her dirty looks. i tried to be nice in the moment, but as someone who is half black, i felt uncomfortable having her dump all of that on me without warning. later in the conversation, i talked about how i was thankful that we didn't end up with anyone that was potentially hostile/harmful in our living situation. i used the term "crazy" within the specific context, but later on she sent a text saying that she was upset that i used the term to generalize anyone with a mental illness. that wasn't my intention, and i wanted to clear the air. the next day, i gently expressed my thoughts on the conversation, and mentioned how i felt upset at her comments on her whiteness. i apologized for my usage of the word "crazy" as well. she seemed really understanding in the moment, and I thought we had resolved everything. i made it a point to say that if we had anything serious that we needed to hash out, that we should do it in-person (she would often send long texts to me expressing concerns). she agreed, and that was that for the day.
a couple of mornings after, while i was at a friend's place, she sends me a very long text saying that she felt uncomfortable around me, and that whenever i was in the common area she felt unsafe, even if i stepped out of my room to use the bathroom briefly. due to the harmful things that i said, as well as using a lot of her things without replacing them in a timely manner, she decided to cut me off completely. she blocked my number right after sending that text.
i've talked to the other roommates about the situation, but it feels as if they've already sided with her. i feel so terrible that i haven't been a good roommate these last couple months, but it feels like the response has escalated so quickly in the last couple of weeks and I'm not sure why. currently, i can't even step out of my room to use the bathroom without her dropping everything that she's doing and rushing into her room to hide. i don't even know if i'm even allowed to use the bathroom, or kitchen, or even be in the shared space at this point.
i want to be able to remedy the situation somehow and balance things out for the remainder of our lease (which runs until may of next year), but it might be too late to salvage anything at this point. i feel terrible. i don't want to use the breakup as an excuse, because i know i could've been better than i have been in recent months. i did get a weird feeling once i saw how the four of us co-existed, but i didn't know it would end up feeling this hostile. i don't think i can ride this out for another 10 months.
i'm not sure what all of this was. maybe it was just a needed vent, maybe i'm asking for advice on how to fix things... maybe i should just accept that i'm a bad roommate and try to move out so i don't cause anymore trouble.
anywho, thanks for reading.

Nestled in northern Lawrence County, Indiana, just six miles from Bedford, lies Ramsey Ridge Road. Just under three miles in length, the rural pathway once referred to as “Skin Ridge'' winds through the sparsely populated area’s dense woods atop a hill overlooking Little Salt Creek and nearby Bartlettsville. In the 1970’s, two completely unrelated deaths occurred within the confines of a modest green house that once stood along the ridge. Referred to by locals as “The Mysteries of Skin Ridge,” this is the story of the unusual deaths of Dennis McArthur, and Gerry Lee.
Dennis McArthur
On April 11, 1976, 44-year-old Pearl McArthur returned home after a lengthy stay at Madison State Hospital. Pearl, who would later be diagnosed with schizophrenia, had committed herself to the hospital in early December, leaving her 18-year-old son, Dennis, to care for the house in her absence. Accompanied by her 23-year-old daughter, April, who lived in nearby Bedford with her husband Gary, Pearl made her way inside the small two-story farmhouse.
Inside, Pearl and April found the home in complete disarray. Trash laid strewed about, lamps and furniture were overturned, and the stove was caved in, its exhaust pipe torn from the wall. It was unusually cold inside as though no heat had been recently used, and a strange smell permeated the air.
Alarmed, Pearl and April began to frantically search for Dennis. As they made their way over to a small couch located in a bedroom on the second floor, they noticed a pile of blankets lying on the sofa. As Pearl peeled back the layer of quilts, she was met with a horrific scene; Dennis’s decomposed body lay beneath the bedding. They immediately summoned police.
Dennis was found in a fetal position on the couch, facing inwards. Although covered by quilts, he was nude from the waist down. The coroner estimated he had died one to two months prior, however the cold weather had, in part, delayed the decomposition process making it difficult to give an exact time of death. During an autopsy, it was discovered that Dennis was severely emaciated, to the point of starvation. No evidence of external or internal injuries were found.
Police discovered several bottles of pills in the home; vitamins used for energy, an antidepressant, and a drug used in the treatment of Parkinson’s disease. All of the pills were prescribed to Pearl, and were still relatively full. A toxicology test was conducted and proved negative, however the state pathologist who performed the test admitted that the test was incapable of detecting substances such as LSD. He also explained due to the amount of time that had passed since his death, the tests might not be one hundred percent accurate. Dennis’ cause of death was listed as malnutrition and exposure.
Investigators found several clues at the scene that struck them as odd. Although the cabin appeared ransacked, nothing seemed to be missing, including a small amount of money that was found within the disheveled home. Along with money, a small amount of, now spoiled, food was found in the cabinets and refrigerator. An upstairs window was found to be broken from the inside. Also upstairs, investigators discovered several large pools of blood, including one beside the couch where Dennis’ body was found. They also found blood on the backside of the couch, on a rug, and on the kitchen door frame, along with splatter on a wall. Testing confirmed the blood to be human.
Dennis was well known to both police and the county’s social workers. His mother, Pearl, was frequently in and out of mental institutions leaving Dennis and his two siblings to fend for themselves. The children’s father, Walter, had abandoned the family and moved to Georgia years prior. In 1972, Dennis was arrested for theft and truancy. That same year, he was expelled from school and never returned.
He was again arrested in 1973, this time for driving without a license, fleeing from police, possession of alcohol, and curfew violation. After his release, Dennis was sent to live with a man named Al Hagopian, a case worker for the Youth Services Bureau. Al was quoted as saying; “Finding him a place to stay was hard. The house where he had been staying was pretty grubby, and the state thought he was too young to live alone. His mother was in and out of hospitals a lot and he worried about her constantly. He didn’t want to return home, but said he had to go back to help care for his mother.”
Al discovered that Dennis “read and wrote backwards,” and was “practically illiterate.” After reviewing Dennis’ school records, he found multiple instances where teachers labeled Dennis as having disciplinary problems when it came to schoolwork, however not once did they mention he had a clear learning disability. Al further explained that attempts to secure employment for Dennis were nearly never successful. Aside from being unable to read or write, he had no vehicle. He also had no stable address or phone number and was oftentimes dirty and dressed in near rags.
Dennis’ unfair hand he had been dealt did not stop him from trying to act like an average kid most of the time, Al added. He explained that Dennis had an interest in cars, enjoyed hanging out with his friends, and was always chasing girls. He had also told Al he wanted to someday save up enough money for a new guitar, as he loved to play music. Al admitted that Dennis was also into the “street scene” and had dabbled in drugs and alcohol. Dennis returned home after two months of living with Al.
In 1974, after another arrest and his subsequent release from a youth detention center, Dennis went to live with his father for a short time. Dennis’ arrest had made headlines when it was learned the young man had been kept with adult men for a long period before being transferred to the youth detention center. Dennis and Walter reportedly couldn’t get along, however, and Dennis ran away to Florida. He lived there for a few months, washing cars to make money, before returning to the home on Ramsey Ridge in Indiana in 1975. He was again arrested, this time in Bloomington, Indiana for carrying a concealed weapon, alcohol consumption, and curfew violation. At the time of Dennis’ death, the charges against him were still pending.
According to his sister, April, she had gone to visit Dennis at the home on Ramsey Ridge on Christmas Eve. April said Dennis was sitting on the couch, playing his guitar. He also showed her a new rug he had purchased for the home. According to her, he seemed his usual self and the home was clean. April offered him some money, however Dennis refused claiming he had enough to get by.
Lucy Lively, an aunt of Dennis’ who lived “within hollering distance,” claimed she entered the home on February 1st to turn off a lamp that had been left burning. While she did not see Dennis, she claimed the home's interior was in normal order. Joe McArthur, Dennis’ paternal grandfather who also lived nearby, said it was not unusual for Dennis to disappear for long periods, so he thought nothing of the youths' absence as of late.
When Walter, Dennis’ father, was informed of his son's death, he informed police that Dennis, along with two male friends, had come to visit him in Georgia in mid December. He gave a description of the two teens and told police they had been introduced to him as “John Boy'' and “Blonde John.”
Police were able to track down “Blonde John” who was identified as 18-year-old John Fonk of Bloomington, Indiana. John told investigators that he and Dennis had driven to Florida together in October, not December, as Walter had stated. John explained they had stopped by Walter’s home in Georgia on their way back home. He was confident in the date as he had joined the Air Force in December. He also explained that “John Boy” had been a hitchhiker they had picked up along the way. According to John, “John Boy” rode back to Indiana with the pair, but he had not seen him, or Dennis since. He described him as being in his mid 20’s. After learning of the discrepancy in Walter’s story, police again tried to contact him, however phone calls and letters went unanswered. Unfortunately, they were never able to identify “John Boy.”
Further questioning of social services showed that Pearl had filled several grocery orders provided by state services, however the orders ceased when she had been again hospitalized. Eventually the Lawrence County Welfare Office had taken control and promised to look in on Dennis, however they could provide no evidence they had followed up on the case. They suggested that Dennis, overwhelmed with his impoverished lifestyle, had simply starved himself to the point of being comatose, before succumbing to the harsh cold of winter. They were quoted as saying “We were aware of him of course, but he never came to us. We don’t go looking for people if they don’t come to us for help. Now if he had, we would have done something.”
The local sheriff as well as members of Dennis’ family were unsatisfied with Dennis’ listed cause of death and continued to pursue the investigation for several months. Unfortunately due to a lack of funds, more elaborate tests that may have presented some clue as to how Dennis died could not be conducted. Sheriff Robbins was quoted as saying, “This is a very disturbing mystery, because even if someone confessed to killing him, I doubt we would have the evidence to prove it. But it sure is hard to believe he could kill himself like that, by just laying down and dying. We aren’t closing the case, it will remain open. But until we have something more to go on, there’s not much more we can do at this point.”
Dennis was laid to rest at Heltonville’s Gilgal Cemetery. Few attended the modest closed casket funeral and subsequent burial. One journalist gave a last description of Dennis’ final resting place,
“The dogwood trees are in full bloom on the hillsides of Gilgal Cemetery, and though Dennis’ body now rests peacefully beneath a carpet of fallen petals, his soul will surely never rest until the reasons behind his death are discovered.”
Pearl, Dennis’ mother, passed away in 2000 at the age of 67. Walter, Dennis’ father, died in 1988. His sister, April, passed away suddenly in 2006 at the age of 53. Dennis also had an older brother, Gordon, who passed away in 1994 at the age of 42.
Gerry Lee
On the evening of May 28, 1978, police were again summoned to the little green house on Ramsey Ridge. The home was now occupied by 27-year-old Gerry Lee, a divorced self employed carpenter, and his roommate, 25-year-old Michael Davis. When police arrived, Michael informed them that Gerry had committed suicide.
Gerry was found hanging from a maple tree located 20 feet from the home's front porch. The rope had been tied off to a branch approximately 10 feet above the ground and fashioned into a noose. His feet were found to be touching the ground, and his knees were bent. Blood was discovered on Gerry’s hands and pants, despite having suffered no visible wounds. An autopsy would reveal that Gerry had died of asphyxiation as a result of a fracture to his cricoid cartilage located at the base of his larynx. The coroner stated this was not an injury normally associated with suicidal hangings, but instead blunt force trauma to the throat. Inside, more blood was found on a television set, the phone, and on the kitchen floor. A window on the home's back door had been broken from the outside, leaving shards of glass lying on the kitchen floor.
When questioned, Michael gave an explanation for the unusual findings. He claimed that he, Gerry, and two other friends, Mike Oakly and Roberta Chandler, had spent the day in nearby Bedford before the foursome returned to the home on Ramsey Ridge. There, Michael told police that he and Gerry got into a “friendly scuffle” that resulted in Michael falling into the window in the kitchen. He suffered a deep laceration to his forehead that left him bleeding profusely.
According to Michael, Roberta and Mike accompanied him to seek medical treatment in Bedford, while Gerry stayed behind at home. Michael returned home alone from the hospital, having left Roberta and Mike in town. It was then he discovered Gerry’s body and summoned police. He added that that evening Gerry had threatened to shoot himself multiple times with one of the loaded guns kept in the home.
When Roberta and Mike were taken in for questioning, they gave similar accounts of the night's events. Both were released. Aside from having a visible wound, medical staff confirmed Michael had been to the hospital that evening, having sought treatment for a laceration to his forehead.
Still, both the prosecutor and the county coroner stated they were not entirely satisfied with a verdict of suicide. The coroner stated “Some things have not fallen into place like they should with a suicide case. Although it looks as though it could be a suicide, there are so many angles that do not fit in with the suicide verdict.” The prosecutor agreed, “I’m not satisfied with how the investigation was handled,” he said, “and there are still a lot of unanswered questions. Several months later, Gerry’s case was brought before a grand jury who ultimately returned a verdict of “probable suicide.”
Gerry was laid to rest in Bedford’s Breckenridge Cemetery. Despite his death being declared a suicide, many locals, including Gerry’s friends and neighbors, continued to believe that something more sinister may have happened that evening, and the suicide was in fact staged. The community’s more superstitious elders shared a similar belief, however adding that a “strange ethereal force” inhabited the room where Gerry once slept, and where two years prior the body of Dennis had been discovered.
Whatever your opinion may be, it seems for some the books will never fully be closed on “The Mysteries of Skin Ridge.”
Sources
Newspaper Clippings, Death Certificates, Photos- https://imgur.com/a/4kQ3rEl
Find a Grave Dennis- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/63100083/dennis-scott-mcarthur
Find a Grave Pearl- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/254365281/pearl-m-mcarthur?createdMemorial=Yes
Find a Grave Walter- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/80652726/walter-rufus-mcarthur
Find a Grave Gerry- https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/47074796/gerry-wayne-lee
National Library of Medicine- https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22442828/#:~:text=Overall%2C%20neck%20structures%20fractures%20were,the%20cricoid%20cartilage%20of%2020.6%25.

My name is Walter Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead– murdered by my brother-in-law, Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a meth empire for over a year now, and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, he asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which he would then sell using connections that he made through his career with the DEA. I was... astounded. I... I always thought Hank was a very moral man, and I was particularly vulnerable at the time – something he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me in on a ride-along and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin, so I agreed. Hank had a partner, a businessman named Gustavo Fring. Hank sold me into servitude to this man. And when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hank and Fring had a falling-out. Things escalated. Fring was able to arrange – uh, I guess... I guess you call it a "hit" – on Hank, and failed, but Hank was seriously injured. And I wound up paying his medical bills, which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hank was bent on revenge. Working with a man named Hector Salamanca, he plotted to kill Fring. The bomb that he used was built by me, and he gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hank had risen to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA. To keep me in line, he took my children. For three months, he kept them. My wife had no idea of my criminal activities, and was horrified to learn what I had done. I was in hell. I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, and in response, he gave me this. [Walt points to the bruise on his face left by Hank in "Blood Money."] I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hank will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. All I could think to do was to make this video and hope that the world will finally see this man for what he really is.

It was an older profession, one that had maintained its presence even after the dissolution of the wealthy elite. Butlers were trained to manage a household, to keep things clean and organized by efficiently delegating tasks to workers, to make life as easy for their employers as possible.
There had been a certain degree of prestige attached to the title, even though they were effectively well-trained household managers- both in terms of working to keep things neat and tidy, as well as ensuring everyone was doing their job correctly.
In the past, anyone with the money could train to become one, approximately 15,500 Euros before the Galactic Standard Credit was adopted, albeit this was on the higher end of training.
They were expensive, certainly, but with hoarded wealth returned to circulation and inflation largely taken care of as a result of this, anyone with a decent job could afford one, or if they so chose, become one.
​
Alex had always had a special interest in butlers, a mixture of ADHD and autism contributing more toward this fixation than any of the benefits of the job. He'd always liked helping people, but with the stress of everyday indirect conversation flying over his head- passive aggressive remarks as to what needed done without explicitly stating such being a major contributor- he'd found that a more rigid system of expectations and rules benefited him more.
And as far as his family was concerned, the exact job didn't matter as long as he thrived in it.
The clicking sound of the stimulation device in his hand soothed his nerves as he anxiously awaited meeting with his potential employer. He'd had plenty of practice ignoring that lingering doubt that he'd forgotten to take his medication, even though he was absolutely certain that he had, even so, it wasn't quite enough to avoid the need to stim.
He took a silent, deep breath, fully aware of the sensation of his lungs filling up, the formal vest only slightly constricting against his chest- a pleasant sensation, a gentle pressure- and he exhaled equally silently.
The clicking was subtle enough that most Humans could barely hear it, Alex's hearing wasn't any better than the average Human, it was just more sensitive to specific sounds. He liked the soft clicking.
A knock sounded against the hardwood door, the clicking stopped, the device stowed away surreptitiously as Alex put on his Normal Face.
Meeting with a client was among the most important steps for hiring, it was just like a job interview- and he'd suffered through plenty of those. Stand up, approach the door, open it while-
"Please come in." Alex spoke. He needed to present as good an impression as possible, demonstrate that he was more than capable of doing the job. "May I get you some refreshment, sir?"
Rohirr worked in the government- not the Hedron, everyone knew that could either be the best or worst thing to happen to a political career- but as a local politician in the American state of Oregon, the mayor of Salem.
He'd immigrated to Earth after the Human-Caniti War, having made planetfall and having the best time of his life while his life was on the line, even when he'd been taken as a prisoner of war. The fact that the Humans didn't even bat an eye at his running for mayor didn't even shock him, their species had each other's respect.
After all, the enemy you cannot kill is your best friend.
He regarded the Human in formal business attire with great scrutiny, he could immediately tell the Human was putting up a guarded front, his expression was too stoic, the delivery of his spoken words sounding more like rote memorization than anything natural.
This presented a challenge.
"Tea, and one of those nice little pastries. The one with cucumber." Rohirr rumbled. He was easily twice the height of the Human, some small part of him- probably the part that reared its head only now that his pups were recently born- wanted to pick the Human up by his scruff and sit him on the couch.
The fact that Humans didn't have a scruff didn't occur to him until he was sat down, the Human already in the process of pouring him a cup of tea, the pastries already laid out on a plate.
Efficient, he hadn't even noticed the Human getting everything set up for him.
The Human set the tea pot on a plate designed to prevent heat from leaching into the table and damaging the finish. "Please enjoy, sir. Is there anything else you require before we begin?"
Anything else, huh? What was it the Humans liked to do? "A breeze would be nice." He remarked, trying not to think too hard on if that phrase was too non-specific. The way the Human's expression shifted ever so slightly intrigued Rohirr, there was a moment of silence.
"Of course, sir." He replied, walking over to the window and opening it. A breeze blew in, bringing with it the cool air of a late spring day. The Human looked at Rohirr. "Anything else, sir?"
Rohirr shook his head, and the Human sat down across from him.
Canicians had always appreciated Human military gear for its practical defense, it had stymied the worst of their bites and claws, and had held up surprisingly well to their ballistics and energy-based weaponry. Human business suits were a close second.
The uniform design and the fact that they could be tailored exactly to the wearer's proportions made it moderately popular among more politically-minded Canicians. Plus, the sight of them being torn to shreds after a headed debate was alluring in its own right, but their relatively expensive nature also meant that needlessly fighting in them became too expensive.
They usually wore them both for the style, and because it 'humanized' them enough.
Humans, of course, wore them better. They didn't need to be careful, or risk ripping them to shreds, and there was something to be said about the professionalism of Humans wearing one.
It was why the Human intrigued him, because it was clear that professionalism was an ongoing effort.
The Human breathed in, it was silent, only noticeable by the notable swelling of his chest. Nervousness?
The Human began with thanking Rohirr for his time. "As you are a busy man, I will be brief-"
"Take as long as you need." Rohirr interrupted. "I am here to hire someone to help maintain my den, keep my pups in line, and deal with the stuff that's too annoying to deal with myself." Blunt, honest, not something Humans often appreciated, but considering that brief pause when he used passive language, it was worth trying.
"Of course, sir." Came the immediate response, most Humans were put-off by his brusque nature, even though it was that brevity that won him the election. This one responded well, even seemed relieved. "I am fully trained to manage your household. I am qualified to interview and hire any staff you may need within a set budget, at your discretion, and have the skills necessary to establish routines, schedules, staff hierarchy, and setting the standards that will ensure your comfortable and uninterrupted lifestyle."
He was back to the rote memorization, a script read and re-read countless times. As the Human listed off the qualifications he had- which included, but was not limited to establishing menus, coordinating cooking, cleaning, clothing care and maintenance- Rohirr realized that he'd completely forgotten to ask their name.
"Do you have any questions, sir?" The Human asked.
"Just one, I neglected to ask your name."
The way the Human's face paled indicated to Rohirr that he had made an enormous gaffe, he was about to apologize when the Human began apologizing. "I am terribly sorry, sir. In my haste to ensure your comfort, I forgot to introduce myself and ask your name."
There was panic, the scent of stress hormones, fear.
"The fault is mine." Rohirr replied. "I was more focused on figuring out how to speak with you that I had, likewise, completely forgotten to ask."
The relief on the Human's face was palpable, he simply nodded and said, "My name is Alex Knox, sir. May I ask your name?"
"Rohirr." The Canician answered in kind. He held his hand out and the Human shook.
Alex was just coming down from a near panic attack, the reassurance of his potential client had gone a long way to help him normalize. He didn't like handshakes, the way he could feel the texture of another person's fingerprints always left him feeling gross afterwards. While white gloves weren't strictly part of the uniform, he preferred wearing them because they offered a layer of separation.
That, and they were just the right level of snug.
"Are there any other questions, sir?" He asked.
Rohirr nodded. "Yes. Do you have any chronic illnesses or similar that I need to be aware of?"
It was the question Alex dreaded, but he didn't lie. "I have autism and ADHD, sir. However, I am on medication that allows me to manage the symptoms of the latter, and my training more than makes up for my disability."
Rohirr hadn't anticipated the waves of fear-scent that emanated from the- from Alex. That paternal instinct urged him to take hold of the Human, curl up with him, and growl at anyone who dared threaten him. Shaking off the thought, he simply replied, "Is that all?"
Alex nodded. "Yes, sir."
"As I understand it, your condition comes with some difficulty in understanding indirect communcation, such as passively remarking what you want, instead of direct communication?"
"Indeed, sir."
Rohirr nodded. "Then there should be no problem. I prefer direct communication, and can provide any necessary accommodations you need for your- what was that word, again?"
"Disability, sir."
Rohirr snarled at the word. "As though you were any less!" He barked. "When can I expect you to start?"
"When do you want me to start?" Rohirr smiled at this question.
"Today, if at all possible. By chance, are you willing to work in-home?"
Alex smiled at the question, it simplified things. "Absolutely, sir."
Rohirr stood, as did Alex, and they shook hands once more. Both felt confident this was the start of a wonderful arrangement. Though, he did have one more, more selfish request. "Do you mind wearing the uniform, even on rest days? I think it looks good on you."
Alex could hardly contain his glee at the request.
​
Out-and-out mansions weren't often built, since more often than not, they had existed primarily as a symbol of wealth and status. That didn't stop people from trying.
Rohirr wasn't one of those people- certainly he did have a large home that could be considered mansion-adjacent- but that was primarily because Canician culture dictated that if you are in a position to accept guests into your home, that you ensure they have a place to rest. His home was accessible to the public, and it was made very clear that this was a cultural thing, and that him keeping his constituents out was a massive faux pas in his society. He also made it very clear that in his society, it was also understood he would be expected to deal with disrespect with extreme violence.
He'd hold back, of course, and he'd pay for their medical bills up to a certain Credit amount, but beyond that, he gave as many shits as he took- which was to say, none.
Alex marveled at the size of the place- while it wasn't like the buildings he'd visited and trained in, it was certainly more than he anticipated. Even though he knew the place was open to the public, he was moderately surprised that nobody who didn't live there was inside.
"There are three floors." Rohirr explained. "The first floor is what I refer to as the visitation floor. It is understood this is a public space with rules. It is also understood that any staff I hire to maintain this space are not to be disrespected, and that they are free to defend themselves as necessary. I will not fire someone for telling a rude asshole to shut up."
The first floor consisted of three sitting rooms, a room with publicly available snacks and drinks- including a keurig- a small library, and three empty rooms which seemed to be multipurpose. All of the rooms had what could be described as a minimum of decoration, things that certainly made the rooms seem less empty, but nothing of particular value or note.
"The upstairs is soundproofed, and requires a personal ID to enter. I will register your ID to our security systems and how you how to operate it in the event you feel more staff is necessary. Any questions?"
"Yes, sir." Alex replied. "You mentioned other staff?"
"Indeed. A gardener, a janitor, and security. The former two will not need to be managed by you, they are locals in need of a job due to... unfortunate circumstances." Rohirr cleared his throat before taking his ID out and inserting it into a scanner. The wall slid open, revealing an elevator. They both got in. "The latter is my brother, Grauf. Our tribe is such that family protects one another, he is aware you are here, that I have hired you, and that you are thus allowed to be present."
Alex nodded. "Understood, sir." He replied. "Will I be expected to interact with the public in any capacity?"
Rohirr shook his head. "No. In fact, the less you interact with them while on-duty, the better. If I ever have an event or such that I ask if you are willing to assist with, you are within your rights to refuse, and are not contractually obligated to."
Alex appreciated that Rohirr explicitly pointed this out, it gave him a better sense that his employer cared that he was comfortable with his job.
They stepped out onto the second floor, which was visibly different from the first floor. As Rohirr walked Alex around, he observed the different rooms.
First and foremost, there were five bedrooms, one of which was larger, the others which were somewhat smaller and had VariaBed adjustable beds- the kind that could be changed between single beds to bunk beds.
"These are rooms meant for staff." Rohirr explained. "This larger room is yours, a small perk of your position. While I would prefer staff that is willing to work in-home, I also recognize this is not always feasible or desirable. These rooms will always be available for rest, I do not want any of my staff overworked."
The rest of the rooms consisted of a kitchen, a laundry room, an elevator connected to both side entrance, the second floor, and the third floor. "The staff elevator." Rohirr remarked, as well as two bathrooms, an entertainment room, a sitting room, and a few other rooms for tailoring, spare uniforms- autofit, Alex noticed with a little distaste- a pantry, and an empty room.
"I honestly have no idea what to do with this room, you are free to use it as you see fit." Rohirr finished.
The main difference between this floor and the prior one was that this had what Alex could only describe as Canician art hanging on the walls. "May I ask as to the decorations, sir?" He asked.
"My mate likes to carve." Rohirr replied. "She supplements our income through selling her works. There is spiritual meaning attached to them, wards against evil, masks meant to invoke strength and stamina, totems meant to grant clarity of mind." Rohirr pointed at a door beside the elevator. "Stairs, in case of emergency. And in the event that the stairs are not an option-" He slid open a panel on the wall. "This chute provides an even faster exit. It is large enough to accommodate me, and it is not a pleasant descent."
"Understood, sir." Alex replied. "And the third floor?"
Rohirr nodded. They went up the elevator to the third floor. The second floor was pleasant and had character, this was very clearly meant to evoke Canician culture. While the structure was still standard, the decorations were subtly different.
"Also of spiritual significance." Rohirr stated, as though reading Alex's mind. These totems have been in my family for generations, they are literally irreplaceable. It is understood they will not remain whole forever, it is understood that they will one day break, and to my people, this is a sign that our ancestors have finally departed, and no longer need to protect us."
"I will ensure they are treated with the respect they deserve, sir." Alex replied solemnly.
The rest of the floor consisted of no less than eight bedrooms. One which was very clearly the master bedroom, and another one that also served as the security room. A heavily-scarred Canician with several mechanical limbs regarded them briefly.
"Brother." He spoke, his voice clearly synthetic.
"Grauf." Rohirr replied. "This is Alex, he is my new hire. Alex, this is my brother."
Alex remembered hearing that Canicians appreciated compliments regarding their strength, but was uncertain on how to approach that. He simply gave Grauf a respectful bow. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir." He stated. He chose his next words carefully. "I look forward to hearing any tales you wish to share about your past victories."
Grauf raised the only organic eyebrow remaining, then let out a soft growl. "Your Human is trying too hard."
"Better to try too hard than to be insulting." Rohirr remarked. "Don't forget to peel yourself off the screens once in a while, you're crippled, not decrepit."
Grauf laughed, it was a wet, painful-sounding wheeze that made Alex wince. "We both know I'll die before I let myself be useless." He said. "Enter, Human, you'll need to be registered into the system."
Alex approached, his ID in hand, which Grauf snatched without warning. He slid the ID into a slot, tapped a few keys, then pulled it out. "Congratulations, Human. You have access to one of the most secure buildings on this planet, my brother is expecting little from you, I expect your best."
"I will endeavor to meet your expectations, sir." Alex replied, taking his ID back.
"None of this 'sir' kraaf! If you insist on calling me by a title, you will refer to me as 'Hurr', Grauf, or- if you want to submit to me- Chief."
"Understood, Hurr." Alex replied.
Grauf nodded approvingly. "Come back to me when you've finished orientation, I should have your permissions set, and you can help me set up security clearances and hierarchies."
Alex didn't miss the appreciative glance-over from Grauf.
Beyond the rooms was a play-room, within which were three Canician pups and an older female one- Rohirr was quick to identify her as Carraf, as well as his two sons and daughter, Bif, Rouf, and Harra.
"It is my hope that you work here long enough that you at least see them to their naming ceremony." Rohirr replied.
"I am not familiar with this 'naming ceremony', sir." Alex replied.
"When they are of age, they choose their own names. It is not our place to say who they are, that is what they shall discover."
They left the pups and Carraf alone for the time being- there would be plenty of time for proper introductions later, when she wasn't focused on wrangling them. As the tour reached its end, Rohirr and Alex stepped out onto a balcony.
"Is this adequate?" Rohirr asked.
"I do not know what you mean, sir." Alex replied.
"I mean what I ask. I am not like the rich men of your people from long ago, there is no such thing as 'pedigree' among my people." Rohirr met Alex's eyes. "Is it enough?"
Alex shook his head. "That implies there is some metric by which worth is judged, sir." He replied. "If I may be so bold, I wish to share with you why I do this job."
Rohirr nodded. Alex looked outward toward the city of Salem, this had been his home for many years, its familiarity was comforting. "It has always been my dream to help others, and this is the best way I may do so. Yes, I am trained by one of the oldest butlering schools on the planet, yes, I have a certificate that indicates such- one that I will proudly hang in the room you have set aside for me. It cost me more money than I truly had, and I can tell you now, it is most certainly more than adequate."
Rohirr nodded once more. "It occurs to me that I've never discussed strict hours."
"With respect, sir, you may consider me as always available." Alex replied. "For as long as your family will have me, at least, for as long as you are able to pay my wages, I will work for you. After all, I am doing what I have always wanted."
Rohirr smiled. "Do not be surprised if we end up adopting you, then you'll never get away."
They both laughed. Alex did not stand idly by for long, nor did Rohirr. At the latter's insistence, they both worked together to ensure everyone's long-term comfort.

Their license plate was H8WLKN. I could almost appreciate the irony if I hadn’t just nearly died.

So yeah, second part. I forgot to say the page count last time of this chapter last time, so I'll say it now. Chapter four is about fifty pages long, so it fits the bill when it comes to these things. Not much else to say, so enjoy.
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* * *
Jacob pondered.
On what exactly? Oh fine, I’ll tell you.
Jacob had just received what was, hopefully, a relatively unfiltered version of the recent events and situation on the planet. After about an hour of explanation, A had finished on the arrival of the disassembly drones, and the subsequent widespread assault on the worker drones. When Jacob had asked for the specific story of A’s squad, A had skirted around it, only lightly touching upon the subject. It was slightly suspicious, but Jacob didn’t plan on doing anything about it.
However, if it was the truth, it only raised more questions than answers. The fact that a company was willing to exterminate the entirety of what was probably a massive investment was just baffling. Jacob could only come up with two explanations, one of which was rather worrying to think about. The first was that of changing times; perhaps the company was so rich, and technology so advanced, that the worker drones could be replaced with the ease of buying another shipload of tissues. If you threw away an entire box of tissues, it would be annoying to say the least, but it wouldn’t cost a lot to just get another one.
But, it just didn’t make sense to Jacob that that would be the case. The United States military in the time of Jacob had heaps, thousands of missiles, and could afford to replace them as they were used. But if they all disappeared at once? It would take lots of time, money, and effort to replace each and every single last one of the lost payloads, and not to mention the logistical nightmare it would be.
So, that led Jacob to his other solution, one that insinuated a scenario far more confusing and sinister. If the company decided to just annihilate every worker drone, which is a very radical and illogical decision by a galaxy-spanning megacorporation, then it would line up with certain other decisions made by other people in the past.
During the Second World War, the U.S. government was fearful of a potential Japanese invasion. They believed that, if they did land boots on American soil, that the Japanese-Americans would rise up, taking the side of the invaders. And so, Roosevelt made the Executive Order 9066, ordering over one hundred and twenty thousand Japanese-Americans to be interned in concentration camps, where they would remain until near the end of the war.
This was an apt example for how even the most level-headed of individuals could make bad decisions under the influence of fear. If Jacob assumed that the same was true for this day and age, then perhaps the administration at the company had sent machines to kill the entire worker drone populace due some or maybe even all of them being much more dangerous than what was being let on. It was a bit far-fetched, but was the one of the only viable solutions at the moment, aside from his theory that nothing was real and they were all figments of the imagination of a being so complex they were nothing but fiction to it, but the chances of that were little to none.
Right?
Jacob’s pondering was interrupted by someone waving their hand in front of his face.
“Ugh, hello?” A snapped his fingers twice. “You there?”
Jacob blinked, refocusing on his present company. “Uh yeah, just processing.”
A scoffed. “Processing what? I thought humans were superior or something?”
Jacob smacked A’s hand out of his face. “Me too.”
A raised an LED eyebrow.
“Doesn’t matter.” Jacob waved hand in a dismissive way. “What now?”
“I dunno. That's all I had.” A shrugged.
“Nothing else you’re hiding?” Jacob questioned.
“No. There isn’t.” A glared at Jacob. “Now drop it.”
Jacob held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, jeez man, calm down. I just don’t wanna be bored for however long I’m stuck here.”
“Yeah well, that's not really my problem.” A stated.
Jacob didn’t reply, only sighing, before standing and getting up out of his seat.
A startled. “Wait, where are you going?”
“Out.” Jacob simply replied.
“Why?” A inquired.
Jacob shrugged. “Bored.”
A got to his feet as well. “Fine then. I guess I’m going as well.”
“You’re coming with?” Jacob asked incredulously.
“Yeah. I can’t have you running off and getting yourself killed.” A reasoned.
“They kept saying that too.” Jacob grumbled.
“Who said that?” A tilted his head.
“K and X.” Jacob answered. “Also, why don’t y’all have normal names? Why just letters?”
“I dunno.” A non-committedly replied.
“Huh.” Jacob took that as a cue to leave, turning to the ladder.
A followed closely behind, waiting until Jacob had gone through the small exit to ascend himself.
Jacob didn’t bother to use the ladder on the way down, buckling his knees and dropping the last few feet, hearing the snow crunch beneath him. He had been prepared to absorb the impact, but it seemed like whatever advanced mechanics his suit possessed had done the job all by itself, which was pretty nice. He made a mental note to test out the capabilities later on, just to get a general sense of the limits and what would be a danger to him.
Jacob heard a similar crunching noise behind him, causing him to look backwards, seeing A just awkwardly standing there.
“Just gonna follow me? Really?” Jacob was slightly annoyed.
“Yeah. I’ve gotta keep you safe until someone else takes you off my hands, or else I’ll-” A cut himself off.
Jacob took note of that, inferring what he might have been about to say. It only served to confirm his notion that he was sort of a VIP on the planet. He was to be protected at all costs, which was pretty nice for Jacob.
“So, you gonna do anything?” A asked.
* * *
The sound of snow crunching filled the empty room as the pair walked into it.
“Can we go back already?” X complained.
“No, and be quiet.” K scolded him. “It’s too echoey in this room, it’s annoying.”
X scoffed. “Pff, it’s fine. Nobody’s around for miles, we’re all good. Now when can we go back?”
K rolled her eyes. “We can go back when we find something, You heard what he said.”
“What who said?” X inquired.
“You idiot, our squad leader!? Our boss that we’ve spent who knows how long with!?” K cried out.
“Calm down, just messing around.” X leaned against the wall.
“Whatever, you know what A said. We can’t come back until we’ve found water.” K reminded X.
“Why do we even need it? I’m sure he’ll be fine.” X waved off the issue.
“He’ll die.” K deadpanned.
“He can walk it off.” X waved off the issue again.
“I don’t care, just get off the wall, we’ve gotta search every building.” K gestured for X to follow.
“How can we even find anything in here? Everywhere else we’ve checked has been empty.” X took his place next to K.
“You never know, now get to it.” K kicked over a rock, exposing a small marble.
X trotted over to a dented metal counter on one side of the room, peering underneath it.
“Nothing here, this is useless.” X whined.
“Shut up.” K called out.
X surprisingly obliged, kneeling down and searching the small cabinets that were connected to the counter. After finding nothing but a small skeleton huddled inside one of them, X sighed heavily, before making his way over to a large metal box. It might’ve been taller than him if it wasn’t tipped over on its side, with an assortment of power cords snaking out from an outlet on the back of it. Seeing a small handle on the front, X tugged on it, the slight rust giving way to superior strength.
However, X’s eyes went wide with shock, which changed to glee.
“Hey, look what I’ve found!” X called out to K.
K’s head whipped up, staring at the prize that X was brandishing. “You found- what is that?”
If the two had any idea what warm food was, they would’ve recognized the lumpy frozen good that X had in his hands as a perfectly preserved rotisserie chicken. If they had any sort of reheating device, and if they had proper taste buds, they might have been able to enjoy the sweet experience of a Thanksgiving dinner. However, they were ignorant robots who were about as smart as a middle schooler, so the only reaction that they, or at least one of them had, was confusion.
“I dunno, but it says chicken on the side!” X proudly exclaimed.
“What’s chicken?” K questioned.
“I’m . . . not sure . . . but I’m pretty sure it's food.” X’s LED eyebrows furrowed in thought.
“How do you know that?” K asked.
“Uh, I don't?” X seemed more confused than ecstatic now.
K shook her head. “Did you find anything useful?”
“Well I found this clear thing, but it only says something called ‘Dasani’ on the side.” X held up a clear plastic bottle, putting his finger in quotation marks when he said it.
“Give me that!” K dashed across the room, snatching the item out of X’s hands.
“Wha- hey!” X tried to grab at it, but K held it out of his reach.
“Back up!” K swatted X in the face, inciting a squawk of surprise.
“I found it first, give it back!” X shot back, tackling K, causing the bottle to roll across the ground.
The two began slugging at each other, scrabbling across the ground for dominance over a goddamn bottle, like a gang of the aforementioned middle schoolers. Nearly crushing the contested item multiple times, the two spent a good thirty seconds duking it out. And after K finally managed to curl into a ball around the bottle, X tried to no avail to recapture his former possession.
“You motherfu-” X was cut off by a noise from the door that led deeper into the building
The two highly professional disassembly drones shot to their feet, their gazes snapping to the origin of the sound. Standing there was a figure, about the same height as K and X, with familiar black plating and armor, kneeling down to grab a small blue marble that was on the floor. It appears as though the idiot had been trying to be sneaky to avoid capturing the attention of the killer robots, which clearly didn’t go as planned.
“Uh, hi.” The drone said after a moment of silence.
Even more silence.
The military drone took that as a cue to scoop up the marble, before dashing out of the room.
K and X instantly took chase, with K pocketing the small bottle for later. The military drone wasn’t quite fast, but it did make use of its head start well. The unnamed drone disappeared behind the corner, with the pair of disassembly drones right on his heels. However, when K turned around the edge, a bullet tore through the air, finding its home in her head. Completely unprepared, she fell to the ground.
X, contrary to what some might do, didn’t stop to assist her, instead just simply vaulting over her body, speeding onward. He was rapidly closing the distance between him and the military drone, when his prey suddenly whipped around with a pistol in its hand. X, unlike his comrade, was prepared for this inevitability, turning to the side and out of the path of the trio of bullets as they flew by him. X followed up on this by diving down onto the hapless drone, trying to skewer it on gleaming metal claws.
The drone didn’t have a chance to fight, but unknown to X, he did have time to press the small panic button on its jawline, or where the jawline would be if it was a human. If anyone on this planet was familiar with standard police or even military practice, they would recognize the small button as the useful yet annoying panic button.
For a bit of context, the panic button is usually represented as a small and easy-to-access device that, when activated, sends out an emergency distress signal that would notify the proper authorities of the panic button’s location and a dire situation. The panic button is common in the military, police personnel, elderly homes, schools, corporate buildings, apartment buildings, and basically everywhere else that isn’t a ghetto.
The drone, however, proved to be much smarter than his predecessors, much to the dismay of X. It dove to the side, dropping down and through a weakened rusty grate. As X’s claws scraped against the wall, the fleeing drone tossed a metal panel that was blocking the way out to his side, before dashing through the door. X jumped down to the lower floor, before continuing his chase.
A flurry of bullets ripped towards him, but X brought his arm up, letting his forearm absorb the projectiles that hit, and most missed. The drone ran down a comically long flight of stairs, taking three steps at a time. The stairs continued downward, eventually opening up to a basement with a gaping hole in the wall, which led straight into darkness. The drone nearly fell into the hole from the momentum of jumping down the stairs. But, it just managed to skid to a stop at the edge.
X landed at the foot of the stairs, crouching to absorb the impact. X’s gaze focused on the drone that was pointing the pistol at X, sights drawing a solid bead on his head. However, when it pulled the trigger, it was only met with a slight clicking sound. The drone gaze jerked down to the pistol, then straight back up to X, who was now diving towards it, claws outstretched.
The drone jumped backwards, losing his balance. Its foot slipped off the edge, and while the sudden space between it and X saved its life for the time being, it did have to contend with gravity, which was now pulling on the drone by a considerable amount.
X watched as the drone tumbled down the pit, hitting the sides. However, the sides of the pit were both sloped and slick with a thin sheet of ice, causing the drone to slide down to the bottom. The drone slammed against a large rusty metal pipe, which was a solid indicator of the pit’s identity as a sewer.
The drone scrambled to its feet, caving the skull in of a skeleton that appeared to have been a former inspector when one took into account the corpse’s clipboard and tattered clothes. X slammed down onto the large pipe, causing it to resonate like a gong. The drone snatched up a small length of rusty metal rebar that had impaled itself on the ground, the edge of the steel surprisingly sharp. The drone adopted a fighting stance, pointing the business end towards X.
The robotic predator didn’t care, however, just simply stabbing his prey with his own pointy stick, the sharp end of his nanite acid tail. The sharp tool stuck itself in the drone’s shoulder, causing it to drop the bar and curse. X took the opportunity to grip the drone by the head, while digging the claws of his other hand in its chest. X then looked into the opaque black visor of the military drone, before pulling in two opposite directions.
The effects were made known quickly, with the head of the military drone migrating away from its home connected to the body. Oil splashed down onto X, who took the opportunity to feed. X dropped the head, letting it hit the ground with a clang, dropping the body as well.
X stood over the fallen corpse, claws gleaming with oil. K landed next to him, retracting her wings.
“So you got it?” K asked.
“No I didn’t, he got away. This body right here is just a random pigeon, and you’re just hallucinating.” X replied sarcastically. “Also, how the hell did you get here so fast?”
K rolled her eyes. “Oh, be quiet. I’m just making sure, because knowing you, you would probably let him go for the funny.” She ignored his latter question.
“Well now that you mention it . . .” X looked sorrowfully at the body.
K punched him in the arm. “Whatever, we gotta go. I seriously doubt that he was alone-”
She was cut off yet again by a loud crash that originated from the hole up on the wall. The duo whipped around, only to see several guns pointed straight at them.
“Sup.” X nodded at the intruders.
* * *
The sound of conversation could be audibly heard from the lit tent.
The tent had been designated as the de facto headquarters for the former facility personnel, with a smaller offshoot serving as a meeting room for the leadership. The offshoot tent in question was currently being used for its purpose, with an emergency meeting being called. Not because of the discovery of a dead body, but for a different matter entirely.
“Can anyone at least tell me how this happened?” The Lead Engineer leaned on the table.
One of the data officers stepped forward. “We believe that when we were evacuating the facility, an error occurred that declassified the file.” They answered.
“An error did this.” The General wasn’t convinced.
“Well, yes. The computers had been degrading for a while now, and we had noticed that several of our autonomous programs were misbehaving, or just outright not working at all.” The data officer replied.
“And we did nothing about this?” The General glared at the trio of data officers that had joined them.
“We actually were doing all we could, but we didn’t have the materials to make a complete fix.” The Lead Engineer interjected.
“Why didn’t you tell me then!?” The General exclaimed.
“I did. You probably just forgot again.” The Lead Engineer suggested.
“What? I have the best memory here.” The General puffed out his chest proudly.
“Alright then, what were we just talking about?” The Lead Engineer inquired.
The General frowned. “We were talking?”
The Lead Engineer facepalmed. “Goddamn idiot.”
One of the data officers stepped up. “Uh, sir? There is still the matter of the ones who discovered the information.”
“Oh yeah, uh, dump them off the eastern bridge.” The Lead Engineer waved off the issue.
With a simple nod, the data officers left, accompanied by a few guards as well. The Lead Engineer sat back in his chair, before steepling his fingers on the desk. He looked back and forth between the assembled leadership, before the General spoke up.
“So, are we gonna continue or what?” He crossed his arms.
“Yes, sorry.” The Lead Engineer motioned to one of his ministers. “You take the lead, Kane.”
Kane got up, walking to the front of the tent, dragging a projector on a cart with him. When he arrived, he pulled down the white screen, securing the hook on a latch on the bottom. He then adjusted the cart, facing the lens towards the screen. He then attached a laptop to the projector, pressing a few buttons and fiddling with a few switches, cursing once. Finally, the projector flickered to life, shining an image onto the screen.
Kane cleared his throat. “Ahem, so. What you are seeing here is the first page of the document in question. As you can see here, it appears to be warning against a drone viewing whatever the contents of this file is.” Kane flicked to the next slide. “It continues to vehemently express this multiple times, not really differing in its warning at all.”
One of the military ministers, Alicia, raised her hand. “Uh, question?”
Kane paused. “What is it?”
“Its warning against drones? She asked.
“Yes, it is. I’ll explain this later on, so save your questions for the end please.” Kane looked back to the projection, skipping through the slides until he landed on the first one without a warning.
“Ah, here we go. So, as you can see here, this appears to be a logo for JCJenson-'' Kane was interrupted by a faint, “In Spaaaaacee!” from an unknown source. “Uh, anyway, as all of you know, JCJenson was the company that owned this planet, and the one that provided the drones that the government were using in their facility, which was us.” Kane flicked to the next slide.
“Here we can see a title for a project, along with several bits of accompanying information, like locations, associates, page number, references, you get the picture.” Kane then produced a long ruler from what seemed like thin air, before pointing the end at one of the words. “Pay attention to this one here ‘AbsoSolv’ as it’ll come up several times later on.” Going to the next slide, Kane cleared his throat yet again.
“This page is more confusing, as it appears to be mentioning several unit serial numbers that don’t match up with standard format, which are mixed in with several other ones that are in different format, like this one here,” Kane pointed his stick at a random one from the line. “This one says, S-010011X01, which I believe has a main identifying letter instead of a string of numbers based on time of construction.”
“Additionally, while some of these feature the normal serial numbers that worker drones use, they have another identifier after it, separated by a dash.” Kane flipped to the next slide.
“This one is more straightforward, as it appears to be featuring a set of technical designs of a modified worker drone with the serial number and other associated information listed at the top. The notes on the side are observations on the modifications that can be seen in the designs. Some of the original worker drone parts can be seen, but a majority of the inner and outer mass seem to have been altered or replaced with a substance that is described as ‘fleshy’. You can see at the very bottom a signature of an unknown human administrator, and a notice that marks the drone for ‘disassembly’ as an addendum can be seen that marks whatever this is as a failure, and a recommendation to request more data from their source.”
Kane took a breath, before going to the next slide. “This is essentially the same as the last one, and this continues for a few slides. Nothing of note can be found in them, save for a few different serial numbers that were listed in one of the prior slides.”
Kane flicked to the next slide. “This one has two addendums, which I will say in a moment. The image is different as well, with noticeably less random mutations and more of a form taking place. This one was supposedly much more successful than the others, and while it was still marked as a failure, the first addendum said that the team working on the project should strip the data from the drone in as best a condition as they could. The second one simply noted they were naming the specific strain of code they were using to ‘Absolute Solver’. The addendum does not mention any reason or motive behind the name, only noting the fact that their shareholders would be pleased.”
“The next one is the first apparent success in the line of experiments that JCJenson seemed to be doing. A single growth can be seen protruding from the back of the spinal transmitter, and several other growths have sprouted inside. However, it is noted that the drone survived the process, and remained somewhat coherent for a period of time afterwards, which seems to be an outlier when considering the others. There isn’t an addendum on this one, only a request from the team for more extensive data from their source to compare to this experiment.”
“This trend continues for a good while, so I’ll just summarize the important bits for all of you.” Kane stated. “Each version continued to show more and more productive attributes and traits, as is par the standard course. Throughout the notes, requests, and addendums, whoever was typing up the document repeatedly noted some things that I will review later, such as Absolute Solver, the ‘source’, Camp 98.7, Cabin Fever Labs, and disassembly drones.”
Kane flicked to the final slide. “This is the final page, with some items to note. It appears to be a reiteration of the specifics of the agreement between the government and JCJenson, with a few additional key things. It includes the standard formalities and the usual junk that we all know, but something else as well. When mentioning the exchange of data that came from the asset-” Kane paused as the room underwent an uncomfortable shuffle in their seats. “They mention a clear correlation between this project that JCJenson is, or was, working on, and the asset. They also instructed the government contacts that any unauthorized personnel, which included government agents, were now barred from entering Camp 98.7 due to ‘hazardous environmental conditions’ and that this was nonnegotiable.”
Kane turned away from the projector, clasping his hands in front of himself. “And now to explain.”
“From what me and the team I assigned could gather, we deduced the meanings and purposes behind several items that were mentioned in this file. The first and most obvious, the ‘source’ that is mentioned. They are receiving data from this source, which seems to be essential to the development of what they were working on. Based on their words, we figured that the source is likely the asset, and yes, the same asset that we are all familiar with.” Kane paused, seemingly to let his words sink in.
“Continuing on, we began to dissect what Camp 98.7 was. It was very clearly a location of sorts, but where it was and what it was used for was more complicated. While we never arrived at a solid conclusion, we believed that the most likely avenue was that Camp 98.7 might have been an outpost of sorts, perhaps used in conjunction with these Cabin Fever Labs.”
“On the matter of the Cabin Fever Labs, we can clearly assume that research and development of this Absolute Solver was being conducted there, and perhaps Camp 98.7 was a sort of staging ground or other type of location related to the lab. We believe that the location of one or both of these sites are hidden within another file.”
“And perhaps the most intriguing and complex matter of them all, Absolute Solver. We figured that it was likely that this Absolute Solver was instrumental in whatever experiments they were doing, or even being one of the subjects of the experiments themselves. From what we gather, Absolute Solver is something, maybe a piece of alien machinery, some sort of unknown lifeform, an experimental strain of cutting-edge code, one of those things, but whatever it is, it is not something that is ‘normal’. It appears to have a unique effect on those it hosts or comes into contact with, rapidly generating new organic material, with sometimes uncontrolled effects. While the file only shows the experiments that used drones, we don’t know if any humans or other organic lifeforms were included either. Likely not, considering the legality of the situation, but it's open to discussion.”
Kane took a large breath, before continuing.
“And finally, the disassembly drones. They seem simple, but my team believed it to be heavily related to our current situation. They aren’t mentioned very often, but they appear to be a direct result of their experiments or related to one. From what we could gather, they are meant to, well, disassemble. Drones on par with military-grade ones that are capable of a variety of things, like bullet fire, rocket launching, melee combat, flight, digital warfare, and regeneration.” Kane watched as his words dawned upon his audience, expressions filling with shock.
“Yes, those drones. The disassembly drones that we read about are likely some variant of the unknown assailants that attacked the facility, and stole the asset in the process.”
The General sputtered. “B-but that would be a severe political incident! If those drones were under the command of JCJenson, and they stole GOVERNMENT property, then they would be liable for retaliation!”
Kane tried to calm the room. “Now, hold on, I’m not done-”
The Lead Engineer also appeared to be shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier!?”
“You told me to wait for the meeting!” Kane exclaimed.
The room erupted into disarray.
“We need to mobilize, hunt down those damn traitors!”
“What's their last known location!?”
“Where is the nearest transmitter, send out a request for retaliatory action!”
Suddenly, a drone burst into the room, knocking over the projector cart in the process. Everyone turned to look at him, ceasing the chaos for a moment.
“Er, uh, sirs?” The drone asked.
“Yes?” The General and the Lead Engineer stood up at the same time.
“I, uh,” The drone looked back and forth between the two administrators. “Well, we received a panic signal from one of our scouts.”
The General scoffed. “Why would that be enough to warrant our intervention? He probably just tripped on a conveniently placed banana peel.”
The messenger fidgeted nervously. “Well, his partner reported moments before the signal came in that he heard gunshots.”
The administrative drones shared a collective uneasy look.
“What did you do?” The General asked slowly.
“The officers who received the signal first sent in two of the patrol squads that were nearby at the time.” The messenger answered.
The drones in assembly all either looked down in disappointment or facepalmed.
The General spoke up after a moment. “Send in a squad as fast as you can to their last known location. Only veterans, and outfit them with heavy weaponry and explosive ordnance.” The General paused, before adding an afterthought. “And give them some cutting equipment too.”
The messenger blinked in surprise. “Wait, sir, are you sure-”
“Just tell the officers already!” The General slammed his fist down onto the cheap plastic table, which formed a crack.
The messenger saluted quickly, before dashing out of the room.
The Lead Engineer took a cursory look at the assembled drones, before he sighed.
“We’re screwed.”
* * *
“Are you going back anytime soon?”
Jacob looked back at his unwanted companion.
“No.” He answered simply, before resuming his casual trot.
“We’re getting too far away from the spire, and the sun is coming up in an hour or two. I for one don’t want to get caught out.” A insisted.
“Well I don’t die from a bit of sunlight, so too bad.” Jacob stepped over a tire rim.
“I’m not sure that’s your choice.” A stated.
Jacob paused and looked backward. “Oh, so you’re bossing me around now?”
“Maybe, if you keep on making dumb decisions like this.” A stopped as well.
“Pff, I’ll be fine.” Jacob waved his hand in the air to emphasize his point.
“You won’t last ten minutes.” A dead-panned.
“Nah, I’ll speedrun this stuff, I’ll be off-planet in an hour.” Jacob proudly said.
A shook his head and sighed. “Whatever you say.”
Jacob didn’t answer.
Jacob then looked around. “Wait, where are we? I wasn’t keeping track.”
“And you said that you would- whatever, we’re like, three miles away from the base.” A replied.
“Huh, went that far?” Jacob asked.
A frowned. “Three miles isn’t that far-”
A was interrupted by a rather loud crack that resonated through the landscape.
Jacob blinked. “Uh, ok then-”
Jacob was also interrupted by a trio of cracks and bangs, sounding slightly familiar.
“Are those-” Jacob was, yet again, interrupted by even more bangs.
“-gunshots?” He finished.
“I wouldn’t worry, those idiots are probably either messing around, or they found a worker drone to kill.” A nonchalantly answered.
“Shouldn’t we go check it out though?” Jacob inquired.
“It isn’t a problem.” A said, annoyed.
“Well it would give me something to do.” Jacob insisted.
A checked the time, before looking at the horizon for signs of sunlight.
“Eh, fine. Wouldn’t hurt, I guess.” A shrugged.
“Nice.” Jacob grinned underneath his ballistic visor.
* * *
K sliced through the head of the last desperate drone, before spitting out a bullet.
“You done?” K called out to X.
“Yeah, I guess. By the way, do you still have my Dasani thing?” X looked at K hopefully.
“Yes, I do. And besides, it isn’t yours, it's for Jacob.” K answered.
“What? Why is he getting it? Why not me?” X exclaimed.
“Because it's water, idiot. An uncontaminated source, like A told us, remember?” K glared at X.
“I guess, but that's water?” X asked.
“Yes, it is. It matches the description.” K replied
“Description?” X questioned.
“Yeah, the description. You know what description means, right?” K seemed even more annoyed.
“I know what it means.” X snapped. “But how do you know what water looks like?”
K just shrugged, before turning towards the exit.
“Come on, we gotta get back soon.” She flew upwards, landing on the ledge.
X followed suit, tracing their steps back through the building. X looked back up at the rusty grate that the drone had fallen through, which he now identified as being part of a weirdly placed catwalk. Scanning the environment, X found that the only entrance to the small alcove would be the hole in the catwalk. The basement that the small room was connected to didn’t have an entrance either, only having the gaping hole in the side of the room, which likely wasn't intended. That would mean that a person would have to chop through the sewer wall to get into the basement and adjoining alcove, or jump off the catwalk. Both of those options didn’t make any sort of sense at all. In fact, the catwalk wasn’t even needed, someone could have just removed the entire basement-and-alcove plan entirely, which also removed the necessity for a catwalk. All in all, whoever designed the building was either high off of some crazy drugs, an idiot, or both.
But, none of these thoughts went through X’s head, as he was only thinking about the devastating loss of his cool plastic bottle.
K hefted herself up onto the rusty catwalk, with X following close behind. K went through the doorway, only for a rather eventful event to stop her momentarily.
A rocket screamed through the air, smacking K straight in the chest. The resulting explosion blew X backwards and K apart, with oil splashing onto the ground in the process. With a clatter, X hit the ground, slightly dazed. He looked to his left to see what looked like the arm of K, twitching slightly. X tried to get up, only to fall again, after he put his weight on a hand that wasn’t there.
X, seeing the failure of Operation: GTFU, adjusted his position so that he could get up with his other hand only, which was thankfully still there. Investigating his left arm, he could see that everything down from the elbow had been separated from himself in the blast. He didn’t have time to look for it or go get it, so he simply let the matter go.
Standing up, X stared through the smoke, before diving back down onto the ground when another rocket came streaking past him. It scratched his face, sending small sparks up, before heading down the other hallway. X pointed his own rocket launcher into the fog, before firing off a flurry of shots. He heard explosions, but wasn’t rewarded with screams or grunts of pain. Problematic, to say the least.
X took the opportunity to kick K’s assorted dismembered body parts down into the lower alcove, where she should eventually reassemble herself. She was really taking a beating recently, and she would probably be frustrated about that when X was all done, but that wasn’t his problem-
X nearly met the same fate as K when another rocket flew from the open doorway, the fog starting to clear up. X jumped up and over the RPG, letting it fly into the unexplored depths of the building. He couldn’t do this dance forever, so he made the executive decision to charge into the unknown.
* * *
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Anyway, I'll be posting the next part tomorrow, so hang on tight for the singular person that made it to the end. No need to like, this is purely for my own benefit. See ya.

So I live in a pretty sketchy area where license plates and other things are being stolen.. I have a camera but it’s not hardwired, so if something were to happen at night or while away, it wouldn’t turn on to catch video evidence. I’ve been really paranoid and I feel like thieves are just going to figure out every way to try to do anything to my car, idk. Any reassurance or tips would help. I did look into the different type of theft prevention options like the killswitch, car wheel lock, steering wheel lock, etc. My car is always cleaned out bare, nothing for anyone to see, but I still feel like they’d get around each of these preventative measures. I do have garages in my area but I cannot afford to rent one 🙄

My dad just got sideswiped in traffic and the guy sped off. My dad eventually caught up to him and he pulled over. However, he did some sketchy shit after.
He basically merged into my dad on the freeway, my dad has pictures of both vehicles and the other guys license plate. He refused to show my dad any form of identification and showed my dad a T shirt and said “I work at a shop bro I’ll fix your car don’t stress” my dad immediately said I think we should call the police. The guy pulled out his phone and started recording and said “ooo you hit my car man you’re gonna be in so much trouble” then got into his car and sped of while my dad was calling the police.
As of right now we filled a police report and the police are going to try to find the individual and all that.
But basically what I told my dad is do not file on our insurance until we’re 100% certain that the guy is basically a lost cause aka uninsured motorist. The insurance company has claimed that this will make our insurance go up if we file a claim even when not at fault (insurance is a fucking idiotic scam). It seems financially better to just pay out of pocket for repairs considering the rate change will eventually be more costly.
I also said it may be worth getting an attorney to potentially help with the situation. Even tho my dad wasn’t injured would it be worthwhile ? Should we get an attorney involved now or wait to see what happens with the other persons insurance and etc ?
What am I missing ?

(I was referred to this sub after posting this in another sub.)
My sister-in-law has been missing for nearly a week. She is mentally unstable and off of her meds. We are very worried. We've filed missing person reports with local police departments, but none of the officers seem to care about our situation and say they can't really do anything because she's an adult. The police have been an absolute dead-end.
We're pretty sure she left the state, so the local missing person reports are probably useless anyway.
She disappeared with her car, but she took the license plates off before she left. We have the VIN number of her car. I'm wondering if there is a way to search nationally to see if the VIN number has shown up in a police report or an impound lot somewhere.

Everything is routed correctly. The license plate right was spliced correctly. It doesn’t work either. However the turn signals. Front and rear now no longer work. And they were only unplugged the wiring of them not messed with at all. Not sure what to do now