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mindcrackloveIT'S STILL SUMMER SOMEWHERE.
I'm so sorry it took this long. This chapter was the stopping block for the whole season for me, personally. IRL obligations plus certain challenges in this chapter contributed to the long wait, and all I can do is apologize and offer what I got.
I hope you guys enjoy.
Now the housekeeping: as a refresher for long-time followers of the series and a reference for those who are new, "UHC: Foundation" is a long-running series set in the expansive 'Severance' alternate universe and follows the fates of that universe's incarnations of the Minecrafters we've come to love and respect. As per protocol, for further information and reading, refer to the World Dossier (here) and the compiled story/serial document (here; alternatively, one can follow the story through here.)
=====
Long Road Ahead
“… what we’re gonna do is make our move.”
The situation room had stilled, one part anticipation and three part tense expectation, to Nebris’s quiet, steady announcement.
“And I’m volunteering as a splinter cell.”
Palpable record scratch and stumble. “Wait, what?” It wasn’t spoken by a single voice.
“To infiltrate the SBK headquarters. Their central servers should be holding all the info on the arena’s layout and design—including its geographical location. That’s what we’re going to need to help our guys … and I’m the best man for the job.”
Before anyone else had been able to speak, Pyrao had shot from his seat, the fire in the young irish captain’s eyes indicating in no small terms that he wasn’t pleased in the slightest with the dark warrior’s sudden initiative … and to the more savvy and astute, a hint of fierce pride; the dragonhide-wearing berserk wasn’t about to let the oft maligned ‘cheaty bastard’ hoard the glory.
“Th’ fsk ye are! Ye may have faith in yer magics an’ witchcraft, Neebris, but I dunnae trust ye one bit. Someone’s gotta watch yer arse an’ keep tha’ same arse in line.”
“Says the guy who needed my ‘witchcraft’ to keep him alive after our last mission …”
“Well—while it is now certain you’re going to be keeping an eye on each other, it’s rather clear that someone needs to keep an eye on both of you.”
The mage-rogue and the berserker simultaneously turned their attentions toward a sniper rifle-toting Shree; the far younger captain merely readjusted his ray-ban aviators in response. It was difficult to tell if the most junior member of the Mindcrack Protectorate’s cadre had a perfect poker face behind those shades, or was smirking casually to himself at the incorrigible temper of his colleagues.
“An’ all three o’ ya can’t lead a team mission to save yer lives, much less the lives of our broth’rs out there.”
The creaky drawl was unmistakable; three sets of eyes targeted the haggard and gangly General of the Hermitage Protectorate. For being such a kooky fellow otherwise, Generik’s body language now communicated clearly that he was all business.
“And you’re volunteering for command duty, Generik?”
“Who else is, Nebs? Don’t see anybody else who’s qualified here short of Baj.”
The burly English colonel bristled silently, but nevertheless aired a wordless appreciation for not being referred to as a ‘tea eater’ for once.
From there, the logistics proceeded swiftly. An all-star extraction team was formed within the next minute with Generik assuming responsibility of the entire mission. Knowing that time was at an all-time premium, they immediately set to work mapping out their roles and dispatching delivery orders for the gear they would need for the grim task ahead …
“Generik. I’m going with you.”
One would have heard a pin drop as the fully-armored supersoldier stood in front of the extraction team. The shared silence and expressions of the other men in the room spoke the unsaid consensus clearly: bringing Pungence along for this mission might be a bad idea.
“Hell no, Joe.”
A high-pitched whine of gyros activating. “Why the hell not?!”
“Hate to break it to you, sport, but you’re too close to the mission objective. You’ve already shown that you’re emotionally compromised. We’ll be taking on a huge risk bringing you along.”
A harsh, hoarse exhale. “I’ll keep it together, Generik, I swear!”
“Like you did when we were interrogating that prisoner earlier?”
Seething, incensed, and most strongly disappointed silence.
“How long have you known me and John, Judson?”
“Long enough, Joe.”
“Then you should know I’ll be doing everything in my power to help my brother … and you should also know that no amount of ordering me around will stop me.”
One heartbeat. Two. Three.
“… you’re too much like your brother, Joe.”
“Heh.”
“Call Nicole first, then.”
~||~
==Mindcrack Territory; Game Time Elapsed: 102 minutes==
He sat in one of the chairs nearest the digital screen, almost in a slouch but not quite, tirelessly monitoring the progress of the unwilling warriors on the battlefield, pausing intermittently only to take stock of the madness that continued to churn behind him. People milling in and out in waves whilst getting briefed and debriefed to the same reports before being sent out with their marching orders. In a natural situation, he’d be up and about his own business, voicing his opinions and observations—but this wasn’t a natural situation, and all he could do now was sit and wait.
… and Maxwell Bee wasn't the type to sit and wait for any reason. Give him even half an excuse, and he'd gladly light up the room with an artistically low-brow joke or some tongue-in-cheek act of randomness. There was no situation too dire nor atmosphere too serious that Millbee was unwilling to alleviate or disperse.
At least until now.
On the shepherd’s mind—heck, it was practically on the mind of everyone in the room—was the spectacular farce of diplomatic failure courtesy of the UN that had transpired earlier. The wholesale dismissal of the Mindcrack Protectorate’s revelation that the SBK Foundation was behind the burgeoning chaos that had re-ignited these long-thought-dead tensions between the VPF and the Modera Republic. Instead, the SBK had nigh-effortlessly pegged the Mindcrack Protectorate as the unreliable party, and thus the Mindcrackers were now forced to rely on their own devices—not entirely unlike the situation their captured brethren were facing in that accursed arena devil-knew-where.
The gangly shepherd sighed; this wasn’t the first time the ones in power had abandoned those loyal to them to stand with their bare arses exposed to the wind. … at the very least, no-one paid much attention to their movements and machinations at the moment, given that a large portion of their credibility had been shot to the Nether in the past hour. If there was any time the Mindcrackers had to make a move, this was it.
And now the leader of the Hermitage was out there, heading up a crack extraction team of the savviest and hardest-hitting warriors that were still left within the Protectorate, seeking to infiltrate the SBK’s own research campus.
Millbee was jostled out of his uncharacteristically dour meditations by Guard Captain Jeff Sano blustering past him, the tall, soot-stained civil servant barking orders into his comms unit while he briskly made his way to another contingent of token volunteers from other VPF-aligned protectorates sympathetic to the Mindcrackers’ plight, the whole lot of them waiting to be briefed and assigned duties to either assist the citizens in restoration and recovery or to fill in gaps in security that the previous night’s raid on Blockhaven had left behind.
The majority of the volunteers had been called in by one Erin ‘Aureylian’ Rohan-Archer, the Hermitage Protectorate’s own liaison (very cute and innocent, Millbee observed, wouldn’t peg her for being incredibly savvy and dangerous). The red-haired woman had a long history of renown as a skilled bowmage and master diplomat with connections that reached across the face of Minecraftia. She’d barely been inside Mindcrack territory for an hour, and already she had called in numerous and valuable favors from an impressive collection of allies and neutral factions. Maybe that kooky old hermit might have a better head on his shoulders than he typically let on, if he was able to get such an efficient and charismatic woman working for the Hermitage Protectorate.
Obviously Aureylian hadn’t showed up on her stark lonesome; she was accompanied by a handful of what few remaining high-caliber members the Hermitage Protectorate could still spare. Notable among them were Master Strategist Major Joe Hills (good head on his shoulders, that one) and explosives specialist Captain Cleo Exanimis (clearly a no-nonsense and unshakable woman—mental note: do not get on her bad side).
Turning his attentions away from the Hermitage delegates, Millbee found himself quietly worrying about Jsano’s current physical status (ironic, given Sano’s particular expertise was keeping people healthy in general) as the veteran civil servant took a few moments to give appreciative handshakes to a number of the volunteers present. The man had been awake for nearly 32 hours straight at this point and still he pushed onward like a man given over to utmost desperation.
It was no secret—to Millbee at least—that JSano felt particularly responsible for the events of the previous night. Thirteen of Jeff’s closest friends had been dragged away and the very city he had been charged to protect had been razed on his watch—and Sano was determined to ensure nothing worse would happen while he was still in charge.
Millbee was sorely tempted to just open his mouth and tell Jeff to give it a rest already, and for the man himself to have some rest too while he was at it … but somehow the gangly young shepherd figured that the good Captain wasn't in the mood to listen to such words right now.
Then again, who listened to Cassandra when Troy was doomed to burn?
Glancing around the Situation Room one more time, Millbee turned his attentions back to the screen. He hadn’t missed much while his perception had wandered. The camera was still locked onto its last subject: Wolfie’s master, VPF Major Kurt J Mac. The legendary FarLander seemed to be the only thing moving in this opening crescendo of darkness in the potentially (and hopefully not literally) bloody game that was afoot now, walking at a brisk pace to keep his distance from a growing, shambling mass of restless (and luckily oblivious) dead to heaven knew where.
Millbee screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to refocus his easily scattered mind, only to sigh in a rainbow hue of uncertainty and exasperation as he reached over to give Wolfie a reassuring scratch behind the ears.
“Wait here a sec, guys.”
“Where the heck are you going, Vechs?”
“Not far.”
The last time Millbee had checked, Vechs was standing by with Baj and Paul Soares, offering what information he had on the layout of the Foundation’s headquarters and monitoring the status of the extraction team. While the shepherd took his time to turn his attention toward the growing commotion, it was anyone’s guess what the green-goggled rascal was up to—but Millbee had a suspicion he could bet hard cash on. The Welshman did his level best to hide a giddy and knowing grin; this was going to be good.
Sure enough, the sharp sound of a palm striking a face rang out, forcing the entire Situation Room to snap into a shocked silence. Everyone’s eyes turned toward the tall, rumpled business suit gestalt of Vechs as he stood visibly grimacing near the edge of one of the Situation Room's tables, nursing a noticeable welt on his cheekbone while the red-haired Aureylian stood within slapping reach, arms folded in indignance.
“OW. ... what was that for?!”
“I have a daughter, I’ll have you know.”
It seemed the green-goggled offender’s innate infuriating nature had claimed yet another victim. (Mental note #2: don’t interrupt Aureylian when she’s focused on coordinating a charitable effort.)
“So I need to work a little more at being a gentleman. Big whoop. … doesn’t help that you’re naturally adorable to begin with.”
“… and you’re saying this is my fault?”
“Yes. … no. … yesno? … not really?”
“You’re hopeless.”
At least the whole “Vechs is infuriating” bit was what people kept telling Millbee. He had truthfully never known this Vechs-fellow personally (save for that ‘grand entrance’ not more than three hours ago) and Millbee could feel the outright sincerity that wafted off of the overgrown blighter whenever questioned about his involvement in this kerfuffle. The shepherd had no doubt that Vechs had told the truth about the surreptitious corruption of the SBK Foundation, the most powerful neutral Terran organization on Minecraftia … and the fact that the Foundation had been the ultimate masterminds of this whole circus of insanity, to which Vechs handily kept producing evidence in support of what most folks in the room considered a dubious claim at best and yet another cruel practical joke at worst.
Still, no matter how well-meaning a person could be deep down, that level of arrogance would not easily net any reliable friends. Millbee suspected that Vechs might not have learned the lesson Aureylian’s slap intended to teach, the goggle-sporting engineer slinking back to the radio … whole-heartedly acting as if nothing had happened. Unfortunately, the damage had been done; Baj and Paul were already chuckling quietly between themselves.
And it did not go unnoticed, not even by the extraction team keeping tabs over the long-range radio system.
“What the pecker is goin’ on over thar?! Did someone pass some swamp gas or sum’thin’?”
“You’d have to be here to get it, Hermit.”
“Hardy har, ya tea eater.”
People were snickering quietly all across the room. Apparently, another twenty or so people had filed into the Situation Room to get debriefed by Jsano, and they were either chuckling or wearing some manner of amused expression on their faces.
Millbee continued to scan the room. He recognized a few of the faces in the group, specifically mercenaries that had helped the Protectorate in the past. Chatting away while he pulled up a chair was Van “JustVan” Justice (in his trademark, garishly coloured adventuring gear, no less. How anyone can take that man seriously as a soldier-of-fortune is an enigma), with Chad “OMGChad” Rhonin nearby, carrying on whatever conversation Van had started (that red hair of his is brighter than Aureylian’s—might be a dye-job. And “OMGChad” for a battle-name? Ridiculous). Matt “Sevadus” October stood in close proximity as well, the deerskin-cloaked hunter listening intently (also known as either “The Professor”, “Deerlord”, or “Doctor”; rumors say he’s got a legitimate degree in astrophysics) while he glanced idly over the shoulder of one Nikki “Sixelona” Bison, seemingly transfixed by the contents of the book the woman was likely doodling in (that lady is another mystery—how can such an innocent and pacifist artist of that reknown be a dangerous assassin? The world might never know). Sixelona didn’t seem to mind Sevadus peeking over her shoulder; perhaps she was simply that distracted comparing sketches with another artist/assassin, Rose “AxlRosie” Atmos (at least Rosie can look the part).
Millbee’s attention shifted over to the representatives of the larger factions that were mixed into this latest group of volunteers whom Jsano was debriefing (likely for recovery missions; heaven knows the home guard is stretched thin). The shepherd quickly counted representatives from the Temple of Mianite (a bunch of kooky monks, if anyone asks), another batch of reinforcements from the DBL Armada (at least the Armada high command had the common sense to send in actual recovery specialists), and a second special contingent from Colony Twitch (heard that Aureylian—and a few others, like Sevadus—have close business ties to that colony).
Of all the factions represented, though, it was the Saladia Protectorate that comprised the largest presence. Millbee had been around when the Saladiers were part of the Mindcrack Protectorate’s specialized military arm, the ones that ventured into the darkest places during the war or brought light and comfort to those most affected by the turmoil that the colonies suffered during those years. It wasn’t until after the Battle of the Canyon of Whoa that the Saladiers had fissioned off into a separate group and grew to have a voice all their own. Still, in this time of trouble, it made sense that the bulk of the Saladiers would rally behind the protectorate they had once originated from.
… and while Millbee took the time to identify the members of the Saladier delegation, it occurred to him—with much surprise—that no expense had been spared: the Saladia Protectorate had sent not only their finest, but the very members of their high council.
At the forefront was the founder and figurehead of the Saladia Protectorate, General Kawa “The Dragoness” Bayawak, an athletic asian woman with incredible charisma and initiative (all respect for the woman, Millbee mused to himself, … but eugh, that surname). It was an eye-catching sight that General Bayawak was here, since the Saladia Protectorate was in the middle of a rather large transition of power, at least according to the most recent accounts coming from their territory. Alongside the Saladian General was Colonel Celeste Pastore, master ambassador, commander of the Saladiers’ standing infantry, well beloved voice of the people, and the current facilitator of the aforementioned transfer of power (met that Colonel while she was still a member of the Mindcrack Protectorate … she gave some great encouragement back in those days. Very sweet and considerate; shame she’s already taken …). Standing next to Colonel Pastore was the current head of the serving Saladier council, Erythra Jade “Sunsetmondays” Jaetwee: Chief Archivist and Architect, Head of Law, and Lead Civil Organizer (with a name like ‘Erythra’, no wonder she’s opted for a nickname!)
Nearby was a dour young businesswoman whom Millbee identified as Colonel Elfyn Wilder, a Moderan Ex-Patriate and the council’s Chief Armsmaster and Master of Industry (fits the role to a T. Mental note #whatever: don’t get on her bad side, either). Idly sparking magic between her fingers was the council’s Grand Archmagus and Master of the Arcane—Thero Medivh, renowned instructor in the art of Vox, Vanali representative in the ruling circle of the Pan-Minecraftian Guild of Magi, and a member of the Vanali Nature Conservancy Council (wonder how many others get a headache just mentally rattling off the titles this one woman has managed to rack up?) Pulling up a seat closer to the briefing table was Major Tori “The IceDragon/Slushie McIcedragon” Glace, the council’s Master of Special Operations and Intelligence, renowned for her skills as an interrogator and her current leadership of the legendary “Dragon” special forces squad (a veritable icewoman. Don’t wanna meet her in a dark alley …).
A hand raised up and a carefully formulated question was brought before Jsano. The voice turned out to belong to Captain Andreas “The Gryphon” Faedranor; the man served as the council’s Master of Public Relations, chief ambassador and master battlemage, and had been a storied political activist on the side of the Vanali Party during the earliest throes of the Severance Wars (all with a Scandinavian accent as thick as Anderz’s on top of a logic that would floor anyone in a debate). Taking a seat next to Major Glace was the Mayor of the Saladia Territory’s capital city and the council’s Master of Mining and Engineering, the self-styled Lord Mayor James “JadEleven” Dallimore (plegh … might be a fellow Welshman, but that one is so unabashedly Ex-Moderan it hurts. Cheeky demeanor, huge tryhard). Finally, standing almost entirely unassuming in the back of the delegation was the curious Kalia Leonhardt (clearly not her real name, by a long shot!). The feline humanoid was one of the chief liaisons of the native Anak people of Minecraftia, sent to observe, teach, guide, and monitor the Terran colonies in the interests of the far-away Anak Synod.
The shepherd sat back in his chair with a pensive exhale. He was sharing the room with a veritable rogues’ gallery filled to the brim with an exhibition of characters that barely scratched the surface of how expansive and varied this world had become in twelve short years; a colourful ensemble cast of characters all waiting to tell their stories.
… but as far as Millbee was concerned, this massive assortment of names were all just cameos in a far greater narrative.
A narrative that had begun with the devastating raid of the Mindcrack capital of Blockhaven, thirteen of Millbee’s closest compatriots dragged off into the night by fiends in black armor—only for these same thirteen heroes to emerge hours later, forced to fight as involuntary gladiators in a grand illegal bloodsport, broadcasted live on television, every available network hi-jacked wholesale by an equally illegal pirate signal that has stunted even their best efforts to expunge it.
If this were a book, this was a plot that would be far too absurd to print, and far more of a pain in the arse to even write …
“You’re aware of the supply entrance, right?”
“For Minecraftia’s sake, Vechs, why do you always bring up information we need when it’s almost too late—”
“—because a wizard is never late, nor is he early, Baj.”
“… goddamnit, Vechs.”
“It’s not like you guys know how to get around in the Foundation’s campus—”
Millbee turned his attention away from the imminent hissy-fit in yet another attempt to refocus his constantly shifting thought processes. Internally he bemoaned the fact that he could bounce from happily naming (in)famous celebrities to soberly musing over the absurdity of this whole pandemonium in less than a heartbeat. It was almost as if some outside force was haphazardly guiding his thoughts in these elaborate contortions …
… nah.
The idea that he was effectively recapping and reciting exposition for a story that was too ridiculous to even take seriously was kind of amusing, though.
In a dark, sick sense.
“Keep yer britches on you two back there! D’ya ferget we’re on one heck of a long walk?”
“At the pace you’re keeping, Generik, you guys should almost be there.”
“Thanks for remindin’ us, Vechs.”
“Fskin’ finally!”
“Pipe down, Pyrao, or you’ll compromise our position.”
“Whatever ye say, Neebris.”
“Yer not makin’ it any easier on us, ya two.”
Come to think of it, even if such an absurd story could make it into print, it would take one hell of a twisted mind to even remotely enjoy the situation that he and the others in the room were being forced to witness. Friends fighting for their lives, others on their way to fight for the captives’ freedom, and the fact that the whole gang had to do this whole damned operation behind the backs of every authority from the UN down—including the Grand Tribunal in far-away Sanctuary, the VPF’s federal capital—all because the Director of the SBK Foundation had turned nearly every diplomat in the UN’s General Assembly into pathetic kiss-ups. If this ‘Dr. Isis’ weren’t some sort of actual witch-in-the-flesh, she was certainly one in Millbee’s book at this point. Swaying that many heavy-hitting voices to her side would certainly take some serious witchcraft to pull off.
Wolfie keened quietly, snapping Millbee back to the present. On the digital screen, the sun was rising for the umpteenth time in the past two hours. Millbee noted that the cameras had finally begun to change subjects; one point-of-view now followed a weary and threadbare-looking MCGamer dragging a couple freshly-hewn logs and his feet through a birchwood forest. All Millbee could do was grimace and attempt to distract himself by indulging Wolfie with another pass of earscritchies.
All just a part of a greater narrative. It was almost becoming a mantra. A greater narrative. The beginning, as it were, and Millbee was loath to find out what the end might entail.
He turned away from the screen to survey the Situation Room once again, allowing himself an appreciative smile for the volunteers now emptying the area, leaving to pick up their respective duties and clearing the way for the next batch that Captain Jsano was visibly bracing himself for. Another argument lit up near Paul Soares’s console the moment the room was clear of volunteers, the poor graying hacker looking about ready to pull the brim of his fedora over his ears in a vain attempt to shut out Baj’s incoming conniption fit as the sturdy colonel kept getting his buttons pushed once-too-many by the protectorate’s unwanted and conniving, green goggles-sporting guest.
“Fhis is just fhe beginning, Wolfie,” Millbee breathed out. The dorky wolf-mutt keened again and laid his head on Millbee’s lap, staring up at Millbee with mismatched, puppy-bright eyes peeking over the tattered 3-D glasses perched on his snout. Perhaps it was an honest attempt by Wolfie to return the favor and reassure the shepherd instead. Another appreciative smile managed to cross Millbee’s countenance, but his expression quickly reverted to an uncharacteristically pensive and dour mien once again.
“I appreciate fhe gesture, Wolfie. Truly.” A pause and an almost defeated sigh. “… but I’m not kidding when I say it’s just fhe beginning, and fhings are going to get worse before fhey get better.”
He adjusted his seat almost unconsciously, so that he could reach Wolfie with both hands and rub the canine’s ruffly neck fur. The shepherd went on quietly, in a strange monotone that carried no further than to the animal sharing his personal space.
“We all knew fhat fhe peace we’ve enjoyed these past few years wasn’t going to last, fhat Earfh’s influence would only go so far, and fhat we hoped we’d be ready for that day Earfh would fail us, should such a day ever come. Now? Now somefhing … somefhing insidious is weakening the deafhgrasp Earfh’s had on keeping fhe peace out here, and fhat same something is pouncing on the unrest, riling it up until it all turns into the very fhing our people have worked for years to prevent …” He looked down and into Wolfie’s innocent eyes. “… and we are not prepared.”
This time, the wolf-dog stayed quiet, looking up at the man in earnest.
“Worse, fhis game and fhis unsanctioned mission our boys are on? … they’re all just catalysts to hasten the process.”
Wolfie’s innocent gaze didn’t waver. It was almost as if though the wolf-dog was saying, Why don’t you tell them?
It was all Millbee could do to keep from rolling his eyes at the hypothetical question. “They won’t believe me outside of the context of a mission,” he replied, almost bitterly, his accent peeling away strangely. “I mean … I’m just a shepherd. I’m just a scout. Seriously. What do I know?”
Wolfie blinked slowly. You know the answer to that.
Millbee didn’t feel how he nodded lightly in agreement to the wordless statement. “… yeah. What do I know?” He looked up and around toward his surroundings, doing his best not to wear contempt on his face. “… more than they’re all willing to admit.”
The imperceptible darkness that Millbee had allowed to creep into his demeanor flitted away just as quickly as it had overcome him, when static and the frantic sounds of combat blared through the nearby com channel.
Baj, Paul Soares and Vechs sprang to their feet as a single entity. One could easily identify Pyrao’s berserker roar fading into the chaotic white noise and the murmurs of eldritch spells being cast. A voice shouting for cover barely made it through the disturbance, followed by the pings and flashes of bullets and electricity being deflected by energy and nanosteel.
At last, Millbee was able to zero in on a familiar creaking and lisping voice speaking over the radio, an eerie calm layered over sincerely unnerved undertones.
“Uh … Houston? We got a problem.”
~||~
=Author's Notes=
I'm just going to outright say that I'm painfully aware that this is a lampshade-choked cameofest BUT it is not indicative of the whole work, thus I highly recommend new readers to read this series from the beginning.
Now, this one chapter proved harder to write than most of the chapters previously published here (took several drafts, I might add) . Granted, this was a season opener, or rather the first half of the season premiere, after all, and I think the reset of the plot escalation curve was what made this take so long, on top of the factor writing SevU!Millbee introduced. ... I don't think I've personally written a character that had this much contempt for the author in years (if ever) and his propensity for anarchy shows. He'll be an interesting one to watch, ayup.
Regardless, we hope you enjoyed.
Author's Box (FAQ):
"What is the Severance Universe?" -- The Severance Universe is the setting for the 'UHC: Foundation' serial. Read all the previous chaptersodes here or here and read more info and lore click here.
Severance Universe One Shots:
SUOS 001 - Hat
SUOS 002 - Descent and Denial
SUOS 003 - Into This World
SUOS 004 - Hostility
We do more than just the SevU. Here are other stories for you happy lot to check out!
Saladcrack :: Kiddycrack Ficsnips
Burning the Phoenix (Ch 1)
(TBA)
- fiction length: multiple chapters,
- fiction length: multiple seasons,
- former mindcracker: bdubs,
- former mindcracker: genny,
- former mindcracker: paul soares,
- gen fic,
- genre: action,
- genre: drama,
- hermit: joe hills,
- mindcracker: aureylian,
- mindcracker: millbee,
- mindcracker: nebris,
- mindcracker: omgchad,
- mindcracker: pyro,
- mindcracker: sevadus,
- mindcracker: vetches,
- nsfw: violence,
- other: cleo,
- other: rosie,
- other: sixelona,
- saladcrack,
- setting: alternate universe,
- super special: shree,
- vbfs: justvan
no subject
Date: Wednesday, September 17th, 2014 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Wednesday, September 17th, 2014 01:11 am (UTC)I was SO happy to see this, you have no idea and when I finished reading it, I remembered yet again that I am not prepared for what is about to happen, no matter what ideas I may have about what's going to happen this season because this keeps surprising me (like I was not expecting Salad or Six and Rosie at all).
I don't mind how long it takes, just as long as you and your team keep it up! :D
((And technically summer doesn't end until Sept 22 here, so you're safe! ))
no subject
Date: Wednesday, September 17th, 2014 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Wednesday, September 17th, 2014 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Wednesday, September 17th, 2014 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Wednesday, September 17th, 2014 02:18 am (UTC)If you ever want/need to chat with me to get an idea of what I'm like for characterization purposes, feel free to message me here or on Skype - if you don't have my username, Thero and the other mods do. <3
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Date: Wednesday, September 17th, 2014 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 18th, 2014 01:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 18th, 2014 01:54 am (UTC)