Bones of the Past

well, that was essentially getting onto death’s lap and grinding hard.

Our baby just got dragged into an orb in the goddamn sky, I don’t give a fuck what you want.

No wonder the two got along: they were emotionally closed off peas in their sardonic little pod.

I suspect this will be the last. False concern for others is often the bigot’s final refuge, at least when patriotism is off the table.

To wrong a villain was to court death. To wrong a guild of them, well, that was essentially getting onto death’s lap and grinding hard.

I got shot in the face by a bunch of birds.” A sincere, contemplative look fell over Ivan’s face. “Do you mean you were hit by a large amount of birds, or a flock of them banded together to actually shoot some sort of tiny guns at you?

Cotton candy. The birds were exploding into cotton candy, which was now coating the street like a sugary snowstorm. It was bizarre, nonsensical, and disturbing on multiple levels. Only the younger people in attendance actually needed that signature line at the beginning. The rest had been around long enough to know a Captain Bullshit production when they saw one.

The higher-ups were definitely going to want to know that Captain Bullshit was active again.

Even monsters had the right to protect their home.

Between having a cluster of Starscouts to prepare for next week and a clandestine organization of criminals reopening that weekend, Ivan was swamped.

Do you want the five minutes of me condensing complex concepts into techno-jargon, or can you just trust that I know what I’m doing?