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I think we're all aware by now of the conspiracy that's building in the background of 2077. Most of us know about the mysterious Blue Eyes who appears in The Sun ending to the game. He operates as The Stinger of sorts for (that) ending of the game; He and V discuss a job vaguely alluded to through out the ending sequence and then the ending cuts to V in space charging off towards The Crystal Palace. Cue DLC Hook and credits.
But, let's go back here. This is only the tail end of the conspiracy and where it actually intersects with V's story. Blue Eyes (and some connections to him) crop up multiple times through out the game and, when pieced together, start building a larger picture that runs deeper into Night City than the pockets of most corporats.
I've finished my second playthrough of the game and I've been drafting this post as I play and find more clues. I doubt I'll find everything or might completely dismiss some, but I want to be on the front lines of uncovering this mystery, especially if this will be our Gaunter O'Dim for Cyberpunk 2077. I apologize for the length of this post ahead of time, but I need to summarize a bunch of lore and at least 4 major side-quests; "I Fought The Law", "Dream On", "Full Disclosure", and "The Prophet's Song".
Here's a long essay incoming, but I hope you chooms enjoy and I hope you read through to the end because, oh boy, I uncovered some cool shit!
So, who is Blue Eyes? Who are his contacts? What is his role in the ecosystem of this city?
"I FOUGHT THE LAW"
Let's start with where he most appears in the game; Jefferson and Elizabeth Peralez, political family in the running for Night City's first family. Which I kinda have to summarize their questlines, including the first one which Blue Eyes never appears in. But I'd prefer to go in chronological order and not jump around, so stick with me.
Elizabeth first contacts you for the job "I Fought The Law". It's fairly basic, but the quest tells us she convinced her husband to hire V to look into the recent death of Mayor Rhyne. We get a BD of a cyberpsycho attack by Peter Horvath on Mayor Rhyne. Weldon Holt leaves the room before the attack and then the security gate crashes right before Peter walks in with billions of eddies worth of chrome. The attack is unsuccessful and stopped by Detective River Ward, who was only there because Peter went missing internally at the NCPD and he knew where Peter would go.
When investigating Peter Horvath, his previous boss describes him as paranoid that "probably thought Mayor Rhyne talked to him through the TV" and that the world was out to fuck him. She then mentions that someone "finally saw what he was worth" which cues into how Peter was thrown into this attack in the first place; he had a patron who funded his chrome and the attempt on Rhyne's life. Tellingly, River than goes into a little talk about how clues rarely make sense until put into the larger context, much like we're doing right now.
V goes to the club Rhyne died in; The Red Queen's Race. V sneaks through, takes out some Animals, and can investigate what actually happened to Rhyne. If we read the emails on the office terminal, we know that Weldon Holt arranged for Rhyne to be there. He initially mentioned this to Rhyne during the first BD; Rhyne asked Holt directly to arrange his usual room at the club. So, this doesn't inherently look too suspicious on it's own, but Holt knew where Rhyne would be. We also find out via the Animals Boss there that Weldon Holt is the one who hired them to smash up the club and they're currently waiting around for payment. Further, you can go to the room Rhyne died in, find the BD headset, and put it on... which INSTANTLY knocks V out and they need to be rescued by River (who, btw, takes out any Animals on the property you didn't get to! Ty bro!). They surmise that Rhyne was killed by a virus in the headset. Lastly, we find footage of Detective Han (River's partner) covering up the death of Rhyne. They confront Han, V goes off to the Peralezs, and quest ends.
Of note, finding the BD set is a hidden dialogue option with the Peralezes suggesting, yes, that's the correct deduction to make. You don't get that option otherwise. And V never actually comes to any real conclusion to what happened to Rhyne.
So, let's summarize what we know about the death of our Mayor. Peter Horvath was hired by an unknown Patron who spent a ton of money to turn him into a suicide bomb against Rhyne. They have connections internally to the corrupt NCPD which allowed Horvath to get access to Rhyne, both from escaping NCPD custody and for the security to give him access to Rhyne's conference room. That fails so our mastermind instead assassinates Rhyne at his usual sex club, one that we know for sure Holt knew about. Rhyne is assassinated via malware in a BD porno headset, NCPD comes in an Detective Han cleans it up. Later, Holt hires the Animals to take claim to the club and fuck it up.
Holt is looking suspicious AF rn, but we also don't have any direct evidence and V says as much if you accuse him. Personally, I think it's a little too clumsy if it's him. Holt leaves the room just as an assassination attempt goes down, sets up a sex club appointment for the Mayor where he's successfully assassinated, NCPD covers it up... and then he hires a gang to cover it up more? Something doesn't fit here.
My theory is Holt is innocent. He's a scum bag, but not the culprit here. Why would you EVER give your identity to the Animals you hired to cover up an assassination? The big dumb brutes of the underworld? A name they give up with almost no fight? No, I think someone hired them under Holt's name. And I think they hired them because they KNEW the BD Headset was left behind; Han dismissed it entirely as Rhyne dying of a heart attack brought on during sex. They needed that destroyed to cover the final footprints. It's the only piece of evidence that doesn't have Holt or NCPD's name on it and doesn't fit the narrative that both are pushing. If they're covering NCPD or Holt's tracks, why not delete the emails or footage of Han? And if Holt or Han were trying to push this false narrative, why leave the headset right there the first time?
And, while I have no evidence of this assertion, the Animals are only still there because they're waiting for payment to come in... I think our employer never intended to pay them and left them in the path of V, who is likely to shoot them and tie up the loose end for our mysterious entity. Animals destroy the BD set, V shoots the animals, no trace. And, even if he doesn't, Animals will point V to the wrong person.
No, we've got a third party here. But let's continue so we can finally let our lead actor take center stage.
"DREAM ON"
"Dream On" starts when Jefferson calls V and asks them to help in another case. Long and Short; Jefferson woke up in the night and found a man in a mask (or an implant) standing over him. Jefferson shot the man, only for his head to fry and knock him out. Coming to, he's back in bed with no evidence it ever happened. SSI, their private security, insists that there was nothing on the cameras, no evidence, and nothing happened. Elizabeth claims she slept through the whole thing event.
V investigates the apartment, with Elizabeth giving the tour, and finds a lot of evidence. Elizabeth is kinda dismissive at first thinking V won't find much. First small stuff leading into larger reveals. Let's start small and work our way up.
First room Liz takes us to is the campaign room. She talks about running the campaign entirely out of pocket and having to keep most of their supplies at the Penthouse; "It's cheaper that way". You find a picture of their daughter on the wall and Liz explains that she's off at university in Europe while Jefferson is running for office; "It's easier that way" she says. That phrasing again.
EDIT: A redditor in the comments pointed out that the Peralez are being controlled via drugs in their food as part of the tech. They mention they've been eating fast food lately, explaining why Jefferson was lucid enough to catch the agent and shoot him.
V can look at Jefferson's emails (which Liz slightly discourages them, saying there's nothing there) which reveals a bit more about their campaign. There's a video of the iconic commercial and poster of Jefferson pulling out a gun and shooting a bunch of paperwork. In the email, Jefferson HATES this commercial, but his assistant, Lea Patel, insists on it as it will air in television time slots with action-drama series and catch the attention of voters. Further emails have Eric Boucher, Jefferson's Campaign Partner (Manager?), saying Jefferson has been acting unpredictably lately; presumably referencing one of the next emails. Boucher is confused because they fired Lea Patel together, only for her to continue working and sent him a new ad for approval. When emailed, Jefferson is confused about Lea being fired at all and doesn't remember the event ever happening, even telling Boucher to be honest if he has some issue with her. A final email is from SSI Chief of Security, Wallace, discussing Jefferson's intent to hire a merc to look into Rhyne's death ("Dream On") and they suggest Jefferson drop it or have NCPD or themselves look into it. Private Security just... offering to investigate the former mayor's death? Huh... sounds more like they want to squash the issue to me.
We should now talk about the Peralez's campaign. As you explore the apartment, Liz explains that they're running on a corp free campaign; they want to get Night City out of the control of the corps and do so without ever owing any favors to them. She specifically cites "Night Corp, Militech, and Petrochem" as ones they've denied. Militech and Petrochem come up a few times in other quests but Night Corp is relatively obscure. And they choose that corp to be the first one she mentions? Stands out to me. It also isn't lost on me that we're talking about running a campaign out of pocket and refusing corp assistance... while walking on the fancy ass balcony of a penthouse in Charter Hill- North Oak.
Next room, we find Jefferson's office. Elizabeth and Jefferson both graduated with law degrees from Asukaga University in Berkley. V points out it would be extremely expensive for them both, but Elizabeth says that both got full ride scholarships from the Richard Night Foundation, run by Night Corp. To further fucking cement this moment, there's a Richard Night biography shard on the desk. But we'll drop this for now because I want to get to Night Corp a bit later.
The computer on the office desk has some emails on it sent by Elizabeth. One is between her and Judy where she's asking Judy for help on the original "I Fought The Law" quest and Judy is the one who gave her your contact in the first place. Another is from their daughter kinda asserting the same thing earlier; safer for her in Europe so she's not a target on the campaign trail. And here's the interesting one; Boucher emailed Elizabeth asking why Jefferson changed his mind on Lea Patel. Elizabth says Jefferson explained it to her that it "slipped his mind" and "circumstances changed in Lea's favor" and she asks him to drop the whole thing. She's dismissive and gives extremely vague details.
Next room, Bedroom. Elziabeth's gun is on the table. It's the one Jefferson claimed he fired and scanning it tells us that it has been fired recently. We also find the wedding photo of Jefferson and Elizabeth where she fondly talks about having blue roses because she loves them so much... except the photo's roses are red and V says as much. Elizabeth quietly corrects herself that they only had red roses instead and moves on.
In the hall, we find the blood trail and gun shots in the wall; both covered up hastily. Following the trail, we enter a tv room. The Smart Glass isn't working and Elizabeth says it stopped working recently; not like they use it much anyway. Passing a Tech Check lets us try and fix it... only to be quickly blacked out by it so hard Johnny felt it too. V asks Elizabeth about it but she doesn't know what V is talking about despite having been standing right there. We also find a hidden door in the wall. Unlike earlier, Liz is actually confused by the door but demands V try and open it.
Downstairs we have the security room. Liz says that it used to be her place but "Security had to set up somewhere" and that she had to make sacrifices for this campaign; "it wasn't the first nor will it be the last". One computer has a Welcome email from SSI to new recruits. It details that they have access to all areas except Section Zero, which is reserved for Blue or Black agents and that, should the encounter a Blue or Black Agent (SPECIFICALLY "in the night"), do not interact or acknowledge them. The next email from Wallace mentions an accident where there was a "behavioral anomaly" and "ALPHA" injured a Blue Agent (BLUE-66M) who is in critical and the SSI head is requesting access to Sector Zero to give medical aid. SSI gives Wallace the code to Sector Zero and sends a team to aid. SSI knew about the accident and lied. You go to the second computer, unlock it, and can unlock the upstairs door. On that terminal is a bunch of deleted files (presumably the security footage from that night) and emails discussing "normal maintenance procedure" and further informing security that ALPHA (Jefferson) hired a merc (V) and, should security encounter them, do not interact with them.
Small thing I found interesting, a shard called "You Are What You Slot" is found down here too. It details a fictional assassin who kills and then steals the identity of her victims. Small and doesn't mean much on it's own, but the shards are hinting at the story here; one of false identities and manipulation.
Now, let's get to the main event; the secret room. Inside is a control center. Elizabeth is horrified and feels violated. She shouts that she's not letting SSI anywhere near them, only for her head to start hurting and she tells V to do what he needs to do. She leaves him. Inside the control room is a box of bloody medical supplies. The computer discusses "behavioral norms" for ALPHA (Jefferson) and suggests amplifying "neural dampening". It discusses things similar to Wallace's terminal, but from the other side; ALPHA is displaying odd behavior by hiring a merc, the SSI teams avoided meeting the merc, and then the actual accident that occurred injuring BLUE-66M during regular 'maintenance'. The other side of the room also has another data shard, "Rewriting Synaptic Pathways", basically talking about using tech to rewire the brain a bit.
Following some wires from the control room to the roof, we find a signal dish. Johnny (replacing Elizabeth for conversation now that she's gone), joins in that the tech looks prehistoric but functional and that Militech used it in the war; it requires line of sight to transmit data but otherwise can't be intercepted. We can see the tower and go to investigate. V tells Liz the whole deal; V can suggest that the Van near the tower could be SSIs or that it might not be due to unconventional tech. Liz then itterates twice that it's a stressful campaign time for Jefferson and V should talk to her, NOT him. "Sure, whatever" V and the player dismiss.
(I SWEAR WE'RE ALMOST DONE WITH THE SUMMARIZING FOR DREAM ON, I'M SO SORRY.)
We drive after the van, Johnny is suddenly excited for smashing a corpo conspiracy and iterates that citizens do not choose their representatives, instead they're chosen by "key players" who watch the Peralezes for weaknesses or blackmail material. We arrive at the facility patrolled by Maelstrom and the occupants of our van park, get out, and climb ladders to the roof where they get into an AV that is cloaked to be near invisible (as shown in a couple of vids on YouTube and this subreddit).
At the place, Maelstom is explained; "UNKNOWN USER" contacted them while driving the van for protection to take care of V and then destroy the van. Van's data makes it pretty clear; the Peralezs' minds are being manipulated, new neural pathways are being created, and their memories are being created, changed, or erased. There are also a couple of other names of other test subjects. The data is then erased. We do see an almost flower like symbol before the data is destroyed.
The agents on the cloaked AV CAN be killed and do drop a shard, thought it doesn’t have many more details, merely that they’re contacting HQ to arrange extraction and that the Van’s data should be destroyed and echoing the arrangement with Maelstrom mentioned earlier in their shards.
V calls Liz, Liz wants to meet in person instead of over holo and send him to a Japantown Raman shop (same one that used to be Rainbow Cadenza, coincidentally). Odd choice for an upstanding congresswoman. She says her nerves are shot, the ramen shop is a quieter place to meet than the apartment, and she needs a moment to gather herself since she last saw V, with V even asking if something has happened since they last saw each other. Of note, Liz is stress smoking the entire scene, something she hasn't done until now. She then explains, no, it's been over a longer period of time. She's been watching her husband change and act differently for awhile; he stopped reading, his taste changed, and he even insisted he was an only child and never had a bother when Liz asks about visiting the grave. Of note, yes, Antonio Peralez has a Columbarium Vault, which proves Liz is correct on this. She confesses that she herself has been told by others she's been acting strangely. V says she knew what V would find and she asserts that she doesn't know the who, how, or why, but "they're changing us". Jefferson apparently went on in great detail about a trip she swears they never went on, but she doesn't know if the vacation is a fake memory or if she's the one that doesn't remember.
She saw a stranger in their apartment tinkering with a monitor, only for him to be missing when it was reported to SSI and they looked at the feeds. The next day, she got a phone call from a stranger (whom she refers to by "he") saying that she's walking on thin ice and Jefferson could have an accident. They later erased all data that the phone call had happened. Elizabeth claims she's terrified for herself and her husband's safety and doesn't want V to reveal the truth. V points out "they" could be telling her to say that but it doesn't really change how she feels since she just wants Jefferson to be safe. She tells V to tell Jefferson it was SSI spying for Holt. She asserts she wants SSI out of her roof if they're spying on their sleep. She will take responsibility for firing SSI, but wants Jefferson to be safe and out of that fight. She adds a meeting with Jefferson to his calendar at Reconciliation Park. But, ultimately it's V's choice (especially since she has no idea if she'll remember the conversation) and leaves. Johnny jumps and and talks and mentions that there were talks like this back in his day and worrying about the damage a puppet mayor could do.
V heads to Reconciliation Park to meet with Jefferson. Entering, V is called by an Unknown Number which blacks out V's optics. They claim to know who V is, *what* V is, and what V wants. It doesn't matter what V tells Jefferson, but "don't dare cross that line" and "you're playing with fire". Its a garbled male robo voice, so safe to say it's irrelevant to the owner.
Enter Stage Right, our missing lead; Mr. Blue Eyes. He is standing on a balcony watching the place where we meet Jefferson. In the Scanner, he is labeled "Mr. Blue Eyes", has no known affiliation, is wanted for "SC 370", and is wanted for "Classified". His eyes are electronically glowing blue you can even see from several yards away. You cannot injure him as grenades do nothing and you can't aim at him. Of small note, and I don't know if this ACTUALLY means anything, but his hair style asset is referred to as Morgan Blackhand in the files, but could mean nothing if this hair is actually used by other NPCs. MOST LIKELY THIS IS NOTHING UNLESS SOMEONE HAS FURTHER INFO.
(Plot twist: It meant something. But we'll get there.)
V sits with Jefferson and can reveal the truth; "SSI is on the take from an unknown group to control your lives". V can even point out the absurdity of Peralez being as successful of a politician as he is without any corp sponsors. "They want you to be *their* mayor. Molding you like clay". You can tell Jefferson how to proceed and additional details, but it doesn't matter. Later, Jefferson will send a text and delete your number and so will Elizabeth, who will call you out for telling Jeff. In the end credits voicemails, Jefferson has decended into paranoia about some vitamins Liz gave him which he didn't trust so he sent them to the lab, only to then not trust the lab results saying they're fine. Jefferson Peralez is confirmed the new mayor during Late Act 2 and the major difference is his state of mind at the end game; either hiring V to be on his security staff or descending into absolute paranoia over everything in his life.
Lastly, Johnny appears and cryptically talks about back in his day when they'd talk about rogue AIs. Personally... I kinda completely dismiss this? It comes out of nowhere, Johnny cites NOTHING for why he'd bring this up in relation to the case, and I can't fathom a motive. I’d also point out that this isn’t the only time Johnny is outright wrong. In fact, he’s wrong A LOT in the game. For example, he criticizes V for listening to the Netwatch Agent and that he’s bullshitting you. Except, the agent is 100% correct that VDB did spike V as a suicide virus and Johnny is actually wrong. He also claims he doesn’t know what happened with Thompson after Never Fade Away, but this is a lie because Thompson is flying the AV Johnny takes to Arasaka in 2023. The only connection I can find is "Who is controlling Blue-Eyes" which might make Johnny correct, if just not in the way 'Rogue AIs' initially implies.
So, what actually has happened?
The Peralez family has been molded for a very long time into being the perfect political couple. They got scholarships from the Night Foundation for two fancy law degrees, have successful political careers, and Jefferson is running for Mayor on an anti-corp platform, an insanity for Night City. And he's actually successful at it. During a maintenance service at night on the Peralez's apartment, Jefferson woke up and shot an SSI/Unknown agent making repairs. The Control Booth knocked Jefferson out and they pulled the agent out of the apartment into the secret room. SSI put the Peralezes back into bed and hastily cleaned up everything, but the damage was done and Peralez hired V who uncovered mostly everything.
Elizabeth seems to be initially very upset by the discovery, but wants V off the trail when we meet her next. However, she's not in on it as she's equally a victim to the brainwashing/gaslighting and that's for certain. I think she's a pawn who is either too scared or too programmed to break the rules of movement on this chessboard. It's worth noting that, while the unknown entity threatens Jefferson's life and V's well being, they do not make due on either of these threats. I call their bluff. They have put too much work into Jefferson to abandon or kill him.
But, where else have we heard of this gaslighting brainwash process before?
"FULL DISCLOSURE"
Ok, we're on the shorter end so I don't have to actually explain this quest in full. Sandra Dorsett is a netrunner and a very skilled on at that, actually collecting data from Night Corp. She was kidnapped by the savs we rescued her from at the beginning of the game shortly AFTER she stole this data, suggesting Night Corp was behind it. This data is on the shard she asks you to collect during the aforementioned quest. V has full ability to NOT read it, but let's look at it; "Operation Carpe Noctem" ("Seize The Night" in Latin)
Described in it is an experiment on Night Corp's own employees where they are quietly brainwashing them and getting them to do whatever they want. They specifically cite an empathetic and calm employee who they got to fight a co-worker and then jump from a 16th floor window. The shard ends on mentioning that they're ready to install CN-07 on "our actual target".
I think multiple quests discussing brainwashing and gaslighting is too coincidental to be utterly unrelated to each other. I think Night Corp's actual target mentioned here is Peralez.
So, what is Night Corp?
Night Corp is the most mysterious of the corps in Night City. It currently operates to better Night City via philanthropic ventures, fundraising, community support, and city infrastructure. Basically, while Militech and Arasaka and the others operate in the city, Night Corp basically RUNS the actual city. They're also noteworthy for the level of security they have that even the best netrunners can't get much from them and, since they keep to themselves and seemingly just do city infrastructure stuff, no one really super bothers them. It has been run by Miriam Night, wife of late-Richard Night, until recently and we currently don’t actually know who runs NightCorp.
Originally, they were the Night Foundation, but that requires explaining Richard Night... oh boy, Lore Drop. I'll make it quick as possible.
Richard Night is the founder of Night City. He started as a partner of a firm, but his ambitions grew beyond that to founding "Night International" to build his dream; a city that would be so grand it would make all other cities pale by comparison, Coronado City. A capitalist mecha of opportunity, Night City would be run by corporations and have next to no anti-business policies on the books. Arasaka, EMB, and Petrochem were his first backers and he came into claim of land on the central-California coast; Del Coronado Bay and Morro Bay would be the location of his dream city.
(BTW, irl, Morro Bay, California is a real place. Been there, have family there, go there regularly, kinda cool!).
Despite being a capitalist mecca city and run by corps, Richard Night also dreamed it to be "A sprawling metropolis, free of crime, of poverty, of debt. A place where people could live safely, peacefully, without having to worry about the dire situations that were growing around the world at the time".
However, due to the design plans, Night didn't employ local contractors and instead got expensive architects and builders from all over the world. Local builders didn't like that, they had mob connections, bloodshed started. And soon Richard Night was murdered by an unknown assassin, presumably a mob hitman. The city was renamed Night City in his honor and his dream utopia became to embody everything that was destroying the world. Mob took control and corps didn't give a fuck since it didn't hurt them any until they eventually had to take out the mob gangs, but not in any favor to Night’s dream either.
Miriam Night, Richard's Widow, founded the Night Foundation (later Night Corp) to stick to Richard's Ideal dreams of what he wanted the city to be. They invest heavily in ecological research, alt power sources, civic infrastructure, public works, and charities and scholarships for Night City youth. "They've even managed to stay out of the normal corporate power struggles which tend to plague every other corporation, both inside the city and out. Even the shadowy corporate rumors about them, like having underwater bases in the bay or access to orbital satellites, remain unsubstantiated despite extensive investigation."
So, where does this put us now? We have ONE last quest...
"THE PROPHET'S SONG"
Garry The Prophet is our local crazy man. He spouts off insanities to anyone who will listen near Misty's Esoterica in Kabuki. However, some of his ideas aren't quite as much off the mark as one might think. There ain't no technonecromancers from Alpha Centuri (or Spanish Inquisition) nor is Saburo Arasaka an immortal vampire, but he was correct that Saburo wasn't dead and in fact immortal; via Mikoshi and The Relic.
He send you on a quest to investigate a meeting; he says that his ripper mistuned some cyberware in his head and he can hear their communications. You show up to a meeting between corps and Maelstrom. They say some nonsense phrases and transfer a data shard. Reading it ("Destroy After Reading") it seems like nonsense. But does include the line "The cages of men melt as night descends". You can decode it via a Null Cipher; first letter of every line: “Project Oracle Command Execute Plans”.
We don’t know what Project Oracle is. In real life, secret project or operation names actually tend to be chosen at random and are unrelated to the actual project (you can google funny stories about names that ended up awkward to the actual project), so this could mean nothing. But, narratives tend to give meaning to everything. Oracles are mythical in references and could predict the future or see the unseen. Perhaps perfect prediction via behind the scenes manipulations? Not sure we’ll get answers on this one for now.
Going back to Garry, he's been kidnapped. His protoge is screaming he's been kidnapped "Black suits came by - blue eyes and all". Blue Eyes huh? Further, she claims that they threw him into an invisible AV... Huh, like the one we saw back during "Dream On"? "Night's comin... The eternal night"
So, it’s time to jump us to the final step in our Fool’s Journey: The Sun.
“THE SUN”
The Sun ending has V wake up in their new penthouse apartment (with their love interest if they have one). Checking the computer, we see emails from our dear Mr. Blue Eyes. He wants an answer from V as to the job to the Crystal Palace he has planned and that they’re on a tight schedule for “obvious reasons”. We meet with him at the Afterlife and he talks about the job; Casino security is going into maintenance and V mentions giving him the casino client list. V also asks him to “hold up your end of the bargain”. They never discuss eddies or payment. It’s all in such vague terms. “Your end” or “Obvious reasons”. Smaller point but an email from Vik on the space shuttle also tells us that he’s asked around about Blue Eyes and has nothing; either he works with people WAY above Vik’s paygrade or he’s shady as hell… or both.
I think Blue Eyes knows V is dying (the obvious reasons) and I think the unspecified payment is V’s survival. V always says that they want to come back to their love interest so it’s not a mindless suicide run and I don’t think V would risk it all for nothing but eddies; especially not after Reaper (both versions) paint suicide runs as a horrible terrible thing. To then glorify it in another ending… no, the game is smarter than that.
Your love interest doesn’t seem to be too upset about the situation either. Panam and Judy leave V in The Sun due to their lives taking different directions, but it seems mostly amicable and understanding. They even express desire to see V again because they know V needs to do this job. Kerry, who stays with V in The Sun and expresses worry and also a desire to settle down with V, also seems mostly understanding that V needs to go on this quest. I don’t think they’d be so calm and loving and understanding if this were a suicide run. They know more than the player does.
Further, I think Blue Eyes isn’t after the casino aspect of the Crystal Palace at all. While that’s the major commercial aspect of the station as marketed to the citizen world, the station also has embassies from every nation on earth, facilities from all the major corporations, and is pretty much THE place where all the dark corporate espionage goes down. There’s so much more to this location than ‘casino resort’. *EVERY* corp has space stations and hideaways in space because the Crystal Palace offers it’s own legalities and opportunities that are not allowed within Earth’s terms and conditions. If they want to do some research that would be frowned upon elsewhere and get up to some Top Secret shit, it’ll be in outer space. Night City is controlled by corps and has lax laws, but outer space’s are even more so.
I think the cure V wants is not only on the station, I think it’s what Blue Eyes himself is after, but I’ll get there when it’s time to theory craft about the future.
I think it’s worth noting; Blue Eyes IS IN THE TRAILER FOR THE GAME. Yeah, anyone remember that shot on a shuttle with a guy being burned out from the inside? Yeah, he’s there. In the foreground. *Smirking*. The shuttle also seems like they’re in space.
These events leading to the Crystal Palace and the conspiracy with Blue Eyes are blatant DLC Hooks for the future and suggest a post-game DLC. This isn’t the first CDPR has done so either; Blood and Wine takes place after the story of Witcher 3 and is explicitly incompatible with the worst endings of that game. I think, conceivably, other endings where V is still alive could be roped into this adventure; Blue Eyes merely needs to hire them with the same offer of survival. While The Star takes V to Arizona and away from Night City, I think that choice of location is appropriate as, to even get to space for The Crystal Palace, citizens go from LAX to Arizona for a space port to launch them off Earth’s surface. They could have chosen anywhere else to send Panam and V, but they choose Arizona, huh. I do think Reaper, Temperance, and Devil will be locked out of this future, however, as all make any point of Blue Eyes hiring V irrelevant; there’s no V left to hire/save. MAYBE a rejected Devil ending, but I wouldn’t blame them for not continuing that conclusion either as Devil is one of the bad endings.
So, it’s finally time to really compile a lot of this information into where I think this is going in the next comment below

…The raging river, pulled them down.
Now they’ll always, be together,
In that Happy Hunting Ground…
- Running Bear by Sonny James
“Snakeyes! New roller, please, next up.” The game runner raked in the dice and chips and ignored the despair in the countenance of the most recent “high roller”. Ted shook his head and other people crowded him away from the dice pit. He was almost out of funds and it was still early. He’d budgeted his, “loss level” carefully to maximize his time at the reservation casino. It was an older one, filled with stereotypical paintings and statues intended to honor the local First Nations Tribes while fulfilling the expectations of rude tourists. He looked around forlornly for a new game to play. He didn’t care for the slots or the drawn-out and ever-shifting card games… ah, Blackjack! There was an opening at the table.
He rushed over before anyone else could snag it and bustled onto the chair. “Okay to deal me in on the next hand?” He interrupted the dealer, who ignored him until he was done dealing out the rest of the players and raking in the chips. He still did not speak but once Ted placed the minimum bet, he flipped a card down in front of him and the game began. Ted immediately started winning the straightforward game. He picked up most of his losses from his unfortunate run at craps and was finally enjoying himself. The couple at the far end of the table had apparently had enough and didn’t care for the new player. Ted liked to talk to new people and thought he was good at it. Before long, the other players had left and it was down to him, the dealer, and an older man, who wore a black cowboy style hat and chain-smoked thin cigarillos.
Ted, grinning heartily at his latest win, glanced over at the man, who had just fired up his next cancer-stick, “You know casinos, and a few bars are the last public places where anyone smokes. I remember when there were smoking sections at most places and my parents told me that there used to be no restrictions. I’ll bet you get plenty of pressure to stop from your family and friends. It’s a pretty bad habit for your long-term health…” Ted usually rambled on past any non-verbal cues that people might give him to stop talking, yet his diatribe came to a screeching halt at the look with which the stern-faced elder favored him.
The older man drew in a long pull on the firestick and then exhaled the stinking cloud into Ted’s face. He coughed a little and gagged at the odor of the raw blend of tobacco and chemicals. The old one removed the cigarillo from his mouth and tapped ashes onto the edge of the table and down onto the floor at his toes, “Sonny, nobody cares. Nobody wants your opinion, and you are not special, no matter what your mommy told you. I’ll do as I please and if you don’t like it, go bother people at another table.”
Ted gaped in shock. In his mind, the man’s words verged on an “assault”. He looked helplessly at the dealer, who just ducked his head and tried not to laugh. Indignant, he rose, took his pile of chips and fled into the depths of the gaming house in search of a friendlier table. He didn’t find one that he liked, so he finally gave up and sat at the bar. The bartender seemed to ignore him in favor of tidying up her workspace. He cleared his throat and received only a glance. He mumbled as much to himself as to her, “I just want a drink while I wait for a table to open.” He wondered at her stony silence, maybe she resents me for being…
His vocal ruminations were interrupted by a feminine voice, “What do you want?”
Ted looked up to see the bartender, mocking smile in place below shining, mesmerizing eyes. Ted simply gaped and eventually worked his jaw uselessly. The bartender shrugged and walked back to the other end of the bar. She spoke with a large man who was clearly part of the security team. He glared at Ted while she spoke. Ted wanted to avoid a confrontation. He’d been conditioned that he should seek authorities if such a situation loomed. Yet casino security was the only available authority here locally. There were Tribal Police on the Reservation, but he wasn’t sure they would want to listen to him. He finally shrugged and decided to go back over to the hotel for the rest of the night. This trip had been very unsatisfying… like all those he’d taken since he moved away from his parents’ home a few years previously.
There was an indoor walkway to the hotel, but Ted decided to go by the outdoor route to get some fresh air and enjoy the natural beauty that the builders had incorporated into the facility. As he walked dejectedly down the sidewalk, local flora pressing in from each side, he heard, from the nearby forest, a screeching wail. It startled him and he had to stop a moment to catch his breath and wait for his heart rate to slow to something more manageable. He realized that it must have been an owl or some other night bird. His father had told him that there were always weird noises “out in the sticks”.
As he plunged his hands into his pockets and determined to go to his room for rest, he caught the faint smell of burning tobacco on the breeze. It wafted over his shoulder from behind and caused him to emit a feeble cough. He looked back in annoyance. In the shadows behind him, he saw a figure. It was dark and stood still in a way that made him uncomfortable. An orange glowing circle of embers hovered around the face and rendered just enough light to illuminate the blue-grey curls of smoke as they exited the tiny conflagration and rose above the brim of a black hat. The ember flared for a moment and then flashed to the ground and was snuffed by a shadowed… foot? It wasn’t exactly clear to Ted; the figure’s lower extremities were... blurred. An even brighter flare, from a lighter or match stabbed into Ted’s eyes as the Smoker lit his next cigarillo.
Ted glared irritation but felt uncomfortable at the unnatural stillness to which the figure returned once the new fire was lit. He coughed once more, this time deliberately in a passive-aggressive attempt to communicate his displeasure and resumed his walk. He strained to listen behind him to determine whether the figure followed. He truly wished to get away from the stink and the threat of cancer or other respiratory illnesses. He slowed to listen, then gave up and looked over his shoulder again. There was no figure in the dark back near the exit to the casino. He turned to resume his walk, but a smoky black form now loomed before him! Its eyes glowed and smoked like large twin cigars as it gaped a maw that emitted pure black smoke and glowed with blue flames within the deep tunnel of the throat. Ted’s consciousness fled his body and found itself in a burning nightmare landscape that extended for as far as he could perceive in all directions.
**** * ****
Darnell, known to his public as “Murder Bush” a deliberate mistranslation of “merde bouche” a.k.a. “Deadly Rapper” for having been a suspect in a shooting back in his youth, stepped up to the dice pit as the geeky dude left. He had plenty of chips and cash to back them. His entourage was there to support him and kiss his backside as often as he wished. He rolled through six passes before he crapped out. He hadn’t over-bet, so he’d won a small amount. He picked up his latest winning chips and handed them to the hostess who had kept him well plied with drinks and snacks. He was sure that for the right price, she would take care of his other needs. He played a few card tables and finished with Roulette.
Each time he won a few chips, he passed them on to the young woman or to one of his flunkies. In the end, they had all received at least some reward for the praises they’d heaped upon him; not for any real accomplishments, but rather to curry favor with the man whom they considered to be wealthy and important: a celebrity. The girl stayed at his side and except for when he asked her questions, she said nothing. He liked that: bitch know her place, he reveled in internal satisfaction. He liked her looks too. She was medium height and a little, “thick”. She was clearly interested but hadn’t gotten in his way when he flirted with other women. He truly liked this one. The more he considered her, the more he wanted to get down to business.
Eventually, he posed the question to her, “How much for the next few hours?” His brazen suggestion that she would take money for sexual favors was the final test. If she grew angry, then she didn’t appreciate his genius…
“Whatever you think is fair. How about we see if I can satisfy you? If I can, then you may want to be generous… as you have been so far.” She hefted the chips so that the pieces clinked in her palm. “If not, I don’t deserve a reward.”
She had passed with flying colors. Might even take this one back to civilization with me, he purred in his mind. He’d always thought of himself as a Big Cat… maybe a leopard or jaguar, definitely something dangerous and sleek. His need grew more intense by the moment. He desperately wanted this woman. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” He husked in a voice grown thick with desire.
They reached his suite, his groupies having been dismissed to their own nefarious pursuits, even his bodyguard. The big man had shrugged, “Your call boss-man.” and then stumped across the hallway to his own room. Now he was finally alone with… her. He stripped off his shirt and flipped his shoes into a corner. She stood by the window and watched. The drinks he’d consumed finally caught up with him before he’d shucked his pants and drawers, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He was excited, which made urinating a challenge, but it had to be done, so that he could maximize his pleasure. When he stepped from the restroom, au natural, he saw that his latest conquest had done the same and now stood, bare to the world and staring out the window, all the curtains on it pushed to one side, so that the night loomed and the light of a single small desk lamp lit the room. He stalked over to her, ready to take her right there at the window in full view of anyone who looked up from the outside. He secretly hoped for an audience. He enjoyed having others watch him take what he wanted.
She turned to face him, her head lowered… no, it had sunken into her body, only her hair remained above her shoulders! A… mouth, gaping and slavering opened on her stomach, a mouth too large for her body and rimmed with rows of teeth like sharpened spikes. She stepped forward to embrace him and the screaming began… sounds that he was accustomed to eliciting from others rather than emitting from his own person.
**** * ****
“Rhino” was unhappy. He didn’t like to leave Darnell unattended. Perhaps now that his boss was in the room, he could go stand guard outside the door. He took care of some personal ablutions as he wolfed down a couple of energy bars and then walked out into the hallway. He started to settle in front of Darnell’s door, when he heard a muffled scream and faint… slobbering-gobbling noises come from the other side. He quickly tried the door, initially too panicked to think of the extra key card with which Darnell had entrusted him. He fumbled for it and soon had the door open. The interior was completely dark. The light from the hallway spilled inward but didn’t seem to reach as far into the room as it should.
He drew his pistol from the holster on his waistband and began to stalk forward, “Boss, you okay? You hurt?” The room was as silent as a tomb, he shivered a little as that thought crossed his mind. Over by the closed drapes, he smelled something awful: fresh blood and spilled entrails… recent death. His feet squelched on wet carpet. He turned around quickly. There had been no noise, but he’d felt a… presence. There she stood, arms spread wide, mouth on her gut spread wider. Rhino wasn’t one to scream or yell, even in extremis, so no others would come to this room to investigate.
**** * ****
Shelly was glad when the rowdy group left the roulette wheel that sat behind her favorite row of slots. The former “one-armed bandits”, that were now, “multiple button digital bandits” lined every available wall space, and in some spaces stood in rows that drew regulars like a dung-heap draws flies. She’d grabbed her favorite machine early in the evening and sat sliding in dollar bills and working up her points. It was called “Buffalo Dance” and featured images of American Bison and feather-bedecked hunters. The theme on the screen matched and she hoped to one day see the “White Buffalo” image adorn the entire set of images… the grand prize view. Despite the fun graphics, it was her favorite because it was near a restroom and a free soda and snack bar. She found herself ahead and on a roll. She absently lipped her dangling cigarette back into her mouth for a long draw. The smoke obscured the screen for a moment, and then she noted a shadow that lengthened across the reflective surface. Someone stood close behind her. Someone who exuded a chilly air. She paused and looked around, “Can I help you?”
There was no answer, though the shadow shifted slightly as if its caster had heard her.
Now she grew annoyed, this is just the sort of thing to break my winning streak! she raged internally. She braced her hands against the machine and worked her buttocks to make the stool on which she perched spin, so she could confront her harasser. She gaped, and nearly lost her cigarette, there was no one standing near enough to cast the shadow. No one even faced her. She chalked it up to excitement, maybe someone stepped too close when passing to go to the restroom, she thought, still a little annoyed and... chilled.
She turned back to her game and continued working the buttons, pumping in bills, and winning, a little at a time, the points now built well above her investment. This weekend is gonna pay for the last two months of losing and breaking even, she thought triumphantly. The shadow loomed across the screen once more, this time even larger, as though the figure that cast it stood closer. The shape was amorphous but hinted at anthropomorphic. She shivered as an icy breeze flowed around her, as though the air conditioning had sent out a short, cold burst, a minor malfunction…
She turned around with more alacrity and determination than the last time, mouth agape, cigarette once more dangling… precipitously and endangering the cleavage she displayed, already baked and wrinkled from years of sunbathing. The frigid air passed, and no one stood anywhere near her, though a customer approached, headed for either snacks or relief. “Excuse me sir, did you just see someone, maybe a large man, standing behind me?”
The man paused and looked at her in confusion. He had clearly been absorbed in his own thoughts, “Er, what? Uh, No. I wasn’t really paying attention, but… no.” He bustled on toward the free fountain drinks machine.
Shelly shrugged, can’t give up now, the pot is even bigger. She checked her points; she was nearing her all-time high. The winnings would pay her space rental fee at the RV park for the entire month. She pressed and played the buttons more fervently than ever, determined to break the bank on straight points or to reach that magical spin that would offer an instant reward of $10,000.00. She set her new points record and reveled for a moment. She reached for the now small stack of dollar bills the rest having been devoured by the machine. She fed in the entire remaining amount, then once more gazed at the screen. It was entirely blackened by a looming shadow.
The temperature of the air around her plummeted and she shuddered with the sudden biting cold. The cigarette was long extinguished, and she’d let the cold fag fall into the ash tray built onto the side of the machine opposite the drink holder. She was so cold, and she wanted to cry out for help, but the darkness closed in around her as the shadow enveloped her and cut off her breathing. Her fingers, paused above the “spin” button, struck and as her consciousness faded, she saw the flashing blue light and heard the blare of the winner’s siren. White Buffalo images filled all nine spaces. I won! The grand prize!
**** * ****
Terry filled his large cup and stood sipping and daydreaming. He’d lost everything he’d budgeted to lose. Yet he knew that one more try would put him back in black for this trip. He mused about what he would do with the prize money. He’d set his limit at $300.00 and had quickly lost it all on slots. Maybe he could risk just a few more dollars… skip a lunch or two until his next paycheck if it didn’t work. He was startled by the jackpot winner’s flashing light and siren that went off just behind him. That bitch! He yelled internally. Figures some old used up skank would win the big prize. He looked over at the nearby machine with anger and envy vying for control of his senses. She was gone!
He stepped over to the machine and looked around in confusion. Maybe she’d gone to the restroom? No, she’d have passed right by me. He shook his head and stepped up to look at the screen. He could still feel the recent presence of a player, the trace of warmth from a human body that might linger in a space for just a moment after the human had vacated the space. He looked around the casino floor, she was nowhere in sight. She’d been wearing a low-cut silver-spangled top that was cut way too low for her sagging, sun-ravaged bosom. She should be easy to spy, she looked like a deflated disco ball that had fallen from the ceiling to play slots. The only thing that came his way was a train of employees, led by a waitress in a skimpy outfit with purple sparkles and carrying a tray with a glass and a dark bottle. She was followed by other employees, who’d formed a sort of conga line: they sang a congratulatory chorus as they approached.
Terry gaped for a moment when he realized that they thought he was the big winner. He’d have to deny it of course. Surely the woman would be back at any moment to claim her prize. The floor cameras would have recorded who had sat at the machine, but it was too late. The group of enthused employees encircled him, and the attractive young waitress poured him a glass of champagne and snuggled up to him. The manager approached and seized his hand for a vigorous shake, “Well done sir! I see that not only have you hit the jackpot, but you’ve raised an additional $3,000.00 in points. A fabulous prize and well played I’m sure.”
Terry was flabbergasted. He’d never won anything like this… I still haven’t, not really, he reminded himself. He rarely broke even on his gambling forays, whether to the casino, or the corner store for lottery tickets and video slots. He allowed himself to be swept into the reverie and led from the machine to the bar. The employees peeled away as they approached, and he soon found himself with only the bottle and a receipt that he could cash out before he left the premises. A sullen-looking woman stood behind the bar, wiping glasses and a large, mean-looking security staffer menaced the far end. He already had his bottle, so he wasn’t sure why the staff members had deposited him with these two killjoys. He shrugged, picked up the champagne and started to walk away from the bar.
“You can’t take that with you. Either drink it here or give it to me and I’ll put it in the trash.” The bartender stated in monotone.
The security officer stood up straight from where he’d been leaning against the far wall, apparently propping up the building. He folded his massive arms in a threatening manner. Silly, thought Terry, folded arms should be a hindrance, but I get the feeling he’s dangerous regardless. He figured that he’d had enough anyway and set the nearly empty bottle on the bar, “You can keep it ma’am. I can afford another at the hotel.” Terry started to walk away from the bar, but a huge ham-like hand seized his shoulder.
Sausage-sized fingers applied painful pressure, “You apologize to the lady.” The wet heat from a mouth placed uncomfortably close to his ear and beath smelling of river bottom, sent a shiver of disgust through his body. The voice was low and deep as the river that ran past the back side of the property.
Terry decided on the better part of valor and head facing forward to avoid the obscene orifice, “Sorry ma’am, I meant no offense.”
The fingers let go and a harsh laugh sounded from behind the bar. “He don’t even know why he’s apologizing, fool. He ain’t worth the trouble, let him go.”
Terry felt a slight shove and he was sent on his way to the cash-out window. There he met with the lead cashier, an older woman in drab clothing, “I’m sorry sir, we give out only these pre-paid cards, we cannot provide cash over $1,000.00. However, you can treat them like a debit or credit card.” the cashier informed him. It seemed he had no choice, so he accepted. Thirteen grand is thirteen grand, he assured himself. He was elated, though he continued to glance around nervously, waiting for the woman in the sparkly fish-scale top to accost him and name him thief. Yet she was nowhere to be seen. The floor was full of players, some laughing, some intense, some dejected or mesmerized by the games of chance in which they’d lost themselves.
He thought about what to do with the rest of his evening. He didn’t have a hotel room; he’d planned to sleep in his station wagon as he always did before the long haul home. Perhaps he should get a room? Maybe they would take him without a reservation… he giggled a little at the unintended pun: a reservation at the Reservation… he shook his head to clear his overreaction to the silly internal joke. He decided that maybe someone on staff could help him. He approached the major domo at the front entrance that led to the interior walkway and the hotel beyond, “Excuse me sir, do you know whether the hotel will accept a resident without a prior reservation?”
The man, single dark braid wrapped in a leather holder and draped over one shoulder, looked at him gravely, “Yes, I know.” He said nothing more and did not smile as though he’d intended to be humorous.
Terry tried again, “Will you tell me please?”
The man flicked his chin in the direction of the hotel, “See the clerk at the desk.”
“Jerk, you’d think I hadn’t pissed away enough cash in this place over the past few years,” Terry muttered as he stumped toward the hotel, ensuring that he was well beyond earshot before he spoke. His head had begun to buzz a little from the champagne. Took a while for it to affect me, he mused. The hallway appeared to narrow, and his peripheral vision grew grey. He felt dizzy and as he entered the main lobby, the large room began to spin. His last view was of the sky-blue ceiling decorated with a few puffy clouds as it faded into darkness like the sun had set.
He awakened to the sounds of voices chattering happily. He looked around, his vision blurred slightly and his head feeling heavy and sore. He soon found that he could not move his arms or legs… they were bound… he was strapped to a table. He saw numerous bodies moving about in the mostly dark space in which he found himself. “Please.” He croaked, throat dry and feeling scraped. “Please, help me, let me loose. Loose me…” his perceptions cleared slowly, and he saw that the bodies that moved around him, now chanting rhythmically rather than babble-chattering, were emaciated. The owners showed as much bone through their skin as would a dead thing, long decayed. He noted spikes above a few heads… no, antlers… The rest wore… masks? Of various beasts… no, the skulls of those creatures, still filled with glistening fangs. Their dance grew ever more frantic, more energetic than they should be capable of performing. Then one of them reached out with a stick, on the end of which was a small claw, taken and preserved from some dead animal. It used the claw to gouge out a scoop of flesh from Terry’s side. He screamed in torment and horror. His screams soon matched the rhythm of the chanting and they went on for a long time before they at last faded when he’d lost too much blood to remain conscious.
**** * **** END PAGE 1 of 2

Sorry about formatting, and sorry if this is long and rambly. I have no one else to talk to and I feel myself getting more depressed by the day.
I (F22) broke up with my abusive boyfriend (M27) a couple of months ago, although it only feels like yesterday. I’m going to just rant and give some back story so maybe my decisions make some sense. Maybe it’s just to get my feelings out, or save face for what I feel is the result of my own bad judgement.
When we first started dating my parents had just divorced, I had moved to a brand new state with my dad where I didn’t know anybody at all. Granted, it was better than living in a barren trailer in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road and an abusive mother.
I’ve struggled with severe anxiety and depression ever since I was a pre-teen. My mother was incredibly narcissistic and abusive. When I was groomed by an older man at 13 she screamed at me and cut off my contact with the entire outside world rather than acknowledging that I was suicidal, depressed, and seeking attention from someone I saw to be a competent, loving authority figure (of course now I know that not to be true). Her and my dad sent me to therapy literally one time and then for six months I had no contact with anyone outside of school. Sometimes it would take me weeks to work up the courage to talk to her and my father about my fragile mental state because I felt like I didn’t deserve to express myself and that I would burden them. My mom would immediately start into a barrage of “Don’t you think I’m depressed locked up in this shitty house everyday having to take care of you kids!?”
“You don’t know how good we treat you! My stepfather beat me nearly unconscious several times!” There were times she would wake up in a terrible mood and tell the family that she hated us and couldn’t stand being around us. She stole my paychecks when I got my first jobs at 14 to gamble at the casino. She’d steal money out of my sister and I’s birthday/holiday cards from family. She had plenty of her good moments too, but she was hard to live with, and my dad very rarely stood up for my sister and I.
My parents divorced in 2017 after my mom reconnected with her ex and decided to start seeing him. She told my dad she was moving out a few weeks later, and my sister moved in with her and her new boyfriend. I was stuck with my dad in our small, depressing apartment as he did nothing but drink himself into unconsciousness or lament about how no one would ever love him again, or how soon he was going to pack all of his things and go to live with his best friend, leaving me alone. He never did, he found a wonderful woman and remarried, but it was hard watching my dad look like he wished he was dead all the time. After a while I moved in with my mom, her boyfriend, and my sister because my dad simply couldn’t financially support me. They live on a friend’s piece of land in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere an hour away from the city. I share a trailer with my sister, we routinely have to manually drain the sewage, don’t have hot water for showers, and no proper air conditioning. My mom becomes a raging alcoholic drinking (literally) a gallon of wine a day until she eventually takes up AA. After a while my mom’s boyfriend leaves her to go back to his wife, and my mom has a complete mental breakdown. My sister wakes me up often in the early mornings to console my mom who’s bawling and telling me she doesn’t know how to go on. It was a bad situation. I eventually tell my dad what’s going on and he and his new wife insist I move in with them.
Fast forward to me moving to a different state with my dad and my stepmother and I stumble across my (now ex) boyfriend. I’m in a better place, have a job and happiness, and we hit it off immediately. I made the terrible decision of moving in with him almost immediately because I felt like I was a burden to my dad and stepmother. I felt as though I was worthless because I didn’t have any viable life skills or anything to contribute to them. My boyfriend told me his grandparents paid for his apartment so I wouldn’t have to pay rent, and I thought it was a good situation. Nope.
He isolated me from everyone. Got mad when I went anywhere without him. Blamed me for a nonconsensual experience and screamed at me when I opened up to him about it. He made me stop talking to all of my male friends (except for one gay one), told me my hobbies and interests were pretentious and stupid, called me a s*** for having past relationships, forced me to quit my job twice, financially controlled me, etc.
I finally ended the relationship a couple of months ago and I feel broken. I had to move back in with my dad. I had almost attempted suicide the night before I broke down in front of my sister and her fiancé and they insisted I talk to my dad about everything that happened. They allowed me to move back in with them, I have a (fairly) stable job now, and I’ve picked up resinry as a hobby (and hopefully a future business venture), but I feel so alone. I have no one to rely on or open up to, no one in my family is really good at emotionally handling things. I have no friends. My cat is still with my ex because I have no room here, and that cat was the only thing I really cared about in life. On top of that it’s going to be a few months before I can get insurance, get therapy, and get back on my meds. But I just don’t know if it’s worth it. I feel inhuman, I have no sense of self. I feel as though for my entire life I’ve been a stranger to myself and everyone around me, and I have no idea what to do.

'Looking down their nose at you': GameStop frenzy showed a fresh contempt for hedge funds. Why do Americans hate them? Updated 2:25 pm EST Feb. 11, 2021 In the middle of a pandemic and slow economic recovery, Americans think they’ve identified their Wall Street villain: hedge funds. Their nemesis is summed up in a few searing images: a hedge fund manager who makes millions betting that the subprime mortgage market will collapse, without warning them. Or another relaxing on a yacht as the economy tanks. Years of anger culminated late last month when a group of angry small-time investors on Reddit took on a few of those firms in the GameStop “short squeeze” frenzy. That spurred millions of others to join in, as their effort to drive up the price of a stock perceived as undervalued soon shifted to a campaign to “Stick it to Wall Street." They used the "squeeze" to rally the share price and make profits for themselves while forcing the hedge funds who had bet it would fall to buy it to prevent greater losses. What are these funds, and where does this resentment come from? Hedge funds, known for using higher risk investing strategies, are private investment vehicles that typically wealthy individuals use to get higher returns. They control more than $3 trillion in assets globally. They've angered many Americans by gutting companies such as former American retail icon Sears, causing layoffs and engaging in questionable financial practices that contributed to the near collapse of the U.S. financial system in 2008, experts say. 'This is life changing': Meet the Redditors behind the GameStop saga “Most people see it as guys in suits looking down their nose at you,” says Adam Bixler, 28, an active user on the WallStreetBets Reddit forum, whose members led the charge against the funds. “How I feel is probably how a lot of people feel when thinking about the financial crisis and the massive wealth inequality that exists in this country.” Radio Shack, Toys ‘R’ Us and Payless ShoeSource, along with mall-based retailers such as the Limited, Wet Seal, Claire’s and Aeropostale faced further financial woes after hedge funds and private equity firms loaded them up with debt. A fight is raging in the stock market: Should you worry about your 401(k)? Where to get vaccines: CVS, Walgreens to begin delivering COVID-19 vaccines on Friday “The idea that you can crack open a hedge fund like a piñata and redistribute all this money to people in the form of a short squeeze is very appealing,” says Bixler, who lives in Boonton, New Jersey, and works as a product manager for a company that makes software and tools for the advertising industry. “These are the stimulus checks that everyone wanted.” Proponents of hedge funds say the firms identify and support distressed industries such as retailers and newspapers. These funds are owned by groups of big investors pooling the savings of millions of unionized workers, such as teachers and firefighters, who count on hedge funds to grow and protect their nest eggs. Even so, hedge funds are viewed as vultures by many Americans. Kaysha Apodaca, an emergency room nurse in Dallas, was furious last summer when she lost thousands of dollars after CytoDyn, a biotechnology company she owns, was hammered following a negative report from a “short selling” research firm, about one of CytroDyn's drugs in clinical trials. The post with the research was later pulled. This year, Apodaca thought she missed the opportunity to jump in and buy GameStop or AMC, so she supported the Reddit campaign against hedge funds by investing a few thousand dollars into shares of Nokia, another beaten-down stock discussed on the forum. “I hate hedge funds. Even if this goes to zero, I’m OK with it. I’m not selling, just to prove a point,” Apodaca said. “Hedge funds have unfairly made money off retail investors for years. Now they’re getting a taste of their own medicine.” For Iris Findlay of Orlando, Florida, joining the movement was a way for Americans to show their strength in numbers. “I’m definitely not OK that there are so many billionaires hoarding their wealth while people are struggling, especially during the pandemic,” said Findlay, 31, who is disabled and retired from the Air Force. A large portion of hedge-fund assets are owned by institutional investors, such as pension funds and endowments. Hedge fund research has been critical in exposing an array of accounting fraud scandals in recent decades, including the one involving energy firm Enron. “Hedge funds do play a very important role in the financial ecosystem, but at the same time, they have a PR problem,” says Andrew Lo, a finance professor at MIT Sloan School of Management. They are an easy target, experts say, because some high-profile managers' massive wealth offends Americans who struggle to make ends meet. Michael Burry, founder of Scion Asset Management, is an investor whose billion-dollar bet against the housing market was chronicled in Michael Lewis' book "The Big Short." He personally collected $100 million and made $750 million in profits for his investors. These managers “are seen as multibillionaires that really don’t care about the public good and are focused on enriching themselves and their investors,” Lo says. “But I think that’s a caricature, especially given that hedge funds now have become much more institutionalized as pension funds and endowments are investing in these financial vehicles.” Who do Americans blame? When asked who was the “most in the wrong” in the trading mania that set off one of the biggest short squeezes in history, nearly half of Americans polled said it was either hedge funds (27%) or online brokerage Robinhood (22%), according to a Harris Poll survey conducted Jan 29-31 that was given to USA TODAY exclusively. Just 8% said it was the Reddit retail investors on the WallStreetBets forum, who angered hedge funds that had bet GameStop's stock would remain low. The small-time investors used the forum to help drive up the prices for shares such as GameStop, theater chain AMC Entertainment and several other companies. Many respondents were angry that hedge funds were shorting stocks – betting that the share prices would fall – of companies that average people use and love, according to John Gerzema, CEO of the Harris Poll. “This wasn’t just an attack on a few weak companies,” Gerzema says. “These are companies that are a part of middle-class America and ordinary people’s lives.” How did these funds begin, and how did they grow into such big villains in the minds of so many? What are hedge funds? Hedge funds are financial partnerships between a professional fund manager and investors who pool their money into the fund to earn active returns. Hedge funds can be traced back to the 1940s when Alfred Winslow Jones, an investor, sociologist and former Fortune magazine writer, created a "hedge" by “shorting" stocks he thought were poised to fall. The "hedge" was meant to reduce risk and protect against market fluctuations. It was unconventional at the time but remains the basic strategy for these funds. Hedge fund strategies today are more diverse and run the gamut of extremely risky to fairly conservative. There's another theory about the origin of hedge funds, and this one is connected to a more beloved figure. Some people credit the founding of hedge funds to Benjamin Graham, a mentor to Warren Buffett and the author of "The Intelligent Investor" – the bible of everyone who loves Buffett's method of investing. Buffett, one of the world's richest people and a folksy inspiration to small-time investors, argued that Graham managed a fund with a "hedge"-like strategy in the 1920s. So you made a bundle on GameStop: Get ready to pay the taxes How did hedge funds evolve? Hedge funds have gained in popularity over the past two decades after many of them delivered hefty outsize returns in either up or down markets, an attractive selling point for savvy investors. Some of the world's largest hedge funds include Bridgewater Associates, founded by billionaire Ray Dalio; Renaissance Technologies, founded by billionaire Jim Simons; and Pershing Square, run by Wall Street billionaire Bill Ackman. They have historically charged much higher fees than mutual funds, which are professionally managed funds that invest in stocks, bonds or money market instruments. Since hedge fund managers are nearly always paid a performance fee, or percentage of the gains they create, they have a strong incentive to make money for their investors. For the hedge fund managers to earn performance fees, their investors have to make money first. Hedge funds charge an expense ratio and a performance fee. The common fee structure is known as two and twenty – a 2% asset management fee and a 20% cut of generated gains. How did they become villains? While many Americans lost money during the depths of the financial crisis, some big-time investors did astonishingly well, including those who predicted and profited from the buildup and collapse of the housing and credit bubble in 2007 and 2008. For those Americans who had their livelihoods upended in the financial crisis, it left a bad taste in their mouths, experts say. “They’re associated with ruthless financial institutions that are out there to make money and not care where it’s coming from,” says Itay Goldstein, a professor of finance and economics at the University of Pennsylvania's Wharton School of Business. A big winner from that time is billionaire investor John Paulson, a hedge fund manager who netted $20 billion in profits when he bet against subprime mortgages at the peak of the credit bubble in 2007. In general, short sellers keep stock prices in check by voicing their opinion on where they believe a stock is valued, says Dennis Dick, head of markets structure and a proprietary trader at Bright Trading in Las Vegas. “I’m concerned with this public image that ‘evil short sellers are betting against America’ and that it’s ‘un-American to short stocks,’” Dick says. “It’s not like every short seller is making bets against America. They’re making calls on whether a stock is overvalued or not.” GameStop: Reddit ran a 5-second Super Bowl ad in honor of WallStreetBets, GameStop stock volatility The hedge fund industry has faced a rough stretch in recent years and underperformed the broader stock market but produced its best return in a decade at 11.6% in 2020, according to data provider Hedge Fund Research. Some received a boost from shares of technology firms and companies that focused on goods that people used when stuck at home during the pandemic. Americans who don’t invest directly in hedge funds still receive a benefit from the returns that hedge funds generate, according to Daniel Smith, a partner at ACA Compliance Group, an advisory firm for financial services. Of the $4.5 trillion in state and local pension plans, about 6.9% is allocated to hedge funds, according to data published by the Center for Retirement Research at Boston College, the Center for State and Local Government Excellence and the National Association of State Retirement Administrators. ”Hedge funds help secure the retirement of more than 26 million teachers, firefighters and other public employees by helping pensions navigate all market conditions and meet long-term financial obligations,” says Bryan Corbett, president and CEO at Managed Funds Association, a hedge fund lobby group. GameStop and questions of power The rollercoaster involving GameStop, Reddit and Robinhood has prompted Capitol Hill’s harshest criticisms of Wall Street in years. Several prominent lawmakers on Capitol Hill have warned of such moments, cautioning that companies and hedge funds have too much power. One of these lawmakers, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., who is well known for her disapproval of Wall Street, called on the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) to address the dramatic swings surrounding these companies. Warren wrote in a letter that it is “long beyond time for the SEC to act” and asked it to investigate the rallies in GameStop, AMC Entertainment and others that “have seen huge shifts in their share price driven by similar internet reading schemes.” "These wild fluctuations are just the latest indication that many private equity firms, hedge funds, and other investors, big and small, are treating the stock market like a casino, giving little consideration to the companies, communities, workers, and consumers that may be affected by these risky bets," she wrote. The House Financial Services Committee will hold a virtual hearing Feb. 18 regarding “recent market volatility” involving GameStop and the other companies. According to Politico, the CEO of Robinhood, Vlad Tenev, is likely to testify. GameStop-Robinhood stock revolution: Not a secure retirement plan Does the movement have legs? Questions have been raised as to whether the populist movement threatening to disrupt the financial system will be sustained. It’s too early to tell, experts say. “It has the potential to gather momentum. It depends on whether we see other related episodes in the next few weeks that show the same kind of patterns in the financial markets," Goldstein says. "We live in a period of so many unusual things going on that it will probably take the edge off this event." Hedge funds such as Melvin Capital Management took the brunt of losses from soaring stock prices of GameStop and other heavily shorted stocks. Others made a ton of money on the rally, including Senvest Management, which had a profit of nearly $700 million, The Wall Street Journal reported. “Is it sticking it to Wall Street? Only temporarily, but in the long term probably not,” Goldstein says. “At the end of the day, the sophisticated financial institutions will find ways to recuperate and make money out of this.” Lo of MIT agrees. “This incident highlights the growing dissatisfaction, distrust and dislocation that many people feel with respect to the financial sector,” Lo says. “It suggests that people are sick and tired of being disenfranchised and being pushed around by large financial institutions.” Contributing: Savannah Behrmann

…The raging river, pulled them down.
Now they’ll always, be together,
In that Happy Hunting Ground…
- Running Bear by Sonny James
“Snakeyes! New roller, please, next up.” The game runner raked in the dice and chips and ignored the despair in the countenance of the most recent “high roller”. Ted shook his head and other people crowded him away from the dice pit. He was almost out of funds and it was still early. He’d budgeted his, “loss level” carefully to maximize his time at the reservation casino. It was an older one, filled with stereotypical paintings and statues intended to honor the local First Nations Tribes while fulfilling the expectations of rude tourists. He looked around forlornly for a new game to play. He didn’t care for the slots or the drawn-out and ever-shifting card games… ah, Blackjack! There was an opening at the table.
He rushed over before anyone else could snag it and bustled onto the chair. “Okay to deal me in on the next hand?” He interrupted the dealer, who ignored him until he was done dealing out the rest of the players and raking in the chips. He still did not speak but once Ted placed the minimum bet, he flipped a card down in front of him and the game began. Ted immediately started winning the straightforward game. He picked up most of his losses from his unfortunate run at craps and was finally enjoying himself. The couple at the far end of the table had apparently had enough and didn’t care for the new player. Ted liked to talk to new people and thought he was good at it. Before long, the other players had left and it was down to him, the dealer, and an older man, who wore a black cowboy style hat and chain-smoked thin cigarillos.
Ted, grinning heartily at his latest win, glanced over at the man, who had just fired up his next cancer-stick, “You know casinos, and a few bars are the last public places where anyone smokes. I remember when there were smoking sections at most places and my parents told me that there used to be no restrictions. I’ll bet you get plenty of pressure to stop from your family and friends. It’s a pretty bad habit for your long-term health…” Ted usually rambled on past any non-verbal cues that people might give him to stop talking, yet his diatribe came to a screeching halt at the look with which the stern-faced elder favored him.
The older man drew in a long pull on the firestick and then exhaled the stinking cloud into Ted’s face. He coughed a little and gagged at the odor of the raw blend of tobacco and chemicals. The old one removed the cigarillo from his mouth and tapped ashes onto the edge of the table and down onto the floor at his toes, “Sonny, nobody cares. Nobody wants your opinion, and you are not special, no matter what your mommy told you. I’ll do as I please and if you don’t like it, go bother people at another table.”
Ted gaped in shock. In his mind, the man’s words verged on an “assault”. He looked helplessly at the dealer, who just ducked his head and tried not to laugh. Indignant, he rose, took his pile of chips and fled into the depths of the gaming house in search of a friendlier table. He didn’t find one that he liked, so he finally gave up and sat at the bar. The bartender seemed to ignore him in favor of tidying up her workspace. He cleared his throat and received only a glance. He mumbled as much to himself as to her, “I just want a drink while I wait for a table to open.” He wondered at her stony silence, maybe she resents me for being…
His vocal ruminations were interrupted by a feminine voice, “What do you want?”
Ted looked up to see the bartender, mocking smile in place below shining, mesmerizing eyes. Ted simply gaped and eventually worked his jaw uselessly. The bartender shrugged and walked back to the other end of the bar. She spoke with a large man who was clearly part of the security team. He glared at Ted while she spoke. Ted wanted to avoid a confrontation. He’d been conditioned that he should seek authorities if such a situation loomed. Yet casino security was the only available authority here locally. There were Tribal Police on the Reservation, but he wasn’t sure they would want to listen to him. He finally shrugged and decided to go back over to the hotel for the rest of the night. This trip had been very unsatisfying… like all those he’d taken since he moved away from his parents’ home a few years previously.
There was an indoor walkway to the hotel, but Ted decided to go by the outdoor route to get some fresh air and enjoy the natural beauty that the builders had incorporated into the facility. As he walked dejectedly down the sidewalk, local flora pressing in from each side, he heard, from the nearby forest, a screeching wail. It startled him and he had to stop a moment to catch his breath and wait for his heart rate to slow to something more manageable. He realized that it must have been an owl or some other night bird. His father had told him that there were always weird noises “out in the sticks”.
As he plunged his hands into his pockets and determined to go to his room for rest, he caught the faint smell of burning tobacco on the breeze. It wafted over his shoulder from behind and caused him to emit a feeble cough. He looked back in annoyance. In the shadows behind him, he saw a figure. It was dark and stood still in a way that made him uncomfortable. An orange glowing circle of embers hovered around the face and rendered just enough light to illuminate the blue-grey curls of smoke as they exited the tiny conflagration and rose above the brim of a black hat. The ember flared for a moment and then flashed to the ground and was snuffed by a shadowed… foot? It wasn’t exactly clear to Ted; the figure’s lower extremities were... blurred. An even brighter flare, from a lighter or match stabbed into Ted’s eyes as the Smoker lit his next cigarillo.
Ted glared irritation but felt uncomfortable at the unnatural stillness to which the figure returned once the new fire was lit. He coughed once more, this time deliberately in a passive-aggressive attempt to communicate his displeasure and resumed his walk. He strained to listen behind him to determine whether the figure followed. He truly wished to get away from the stink and the threat of cancer or other respiratory illnesses. He slowed to listen, then gave up and looked over his shoulder again. There was no figure in the dark back near the exit to the casino. He turned to resume his walk, but a smoky black form now loomed before him! Its eyes glowed and smoked like large twin cigars as it gaped a maw that emitted pure black smoke and glowed with blue flames within the deep tunnel of the throat. Ted’s consciousness fled his body and found itself in a burning nightmare landscape that extended for as far as he could perceive in all directions.
**** * ****
Darnell, known to his public as “Murder Bush” a deliberate mistranslation of “merde bouche” a.k.a. “Deadly Rapper” for having been a suspect in a shooting back in his youth, stepped up to the dice pit as the geeky dude left. He had plenty of chips and cash to back them. His entourage was there to support him and kiss his backside as often as he wished. He rolled through six passes before he crapped out. He hadn’t over-bet, so he’d won a small amount. He picked up his latest winning chips and handed them to the hostess who had kept him well plied with drinks and snacks. He was sure that for the right price, she would take care of his other needs. He played a few card tables and finished with Roulette.
Each time he won a few chips, he passed them on to the young woman or to one of his flunkies. In the end, they had all received at least some reward for the praises they’d heaped upon him; not for any real accomplishments, but rather to curry favor with the man whom they considered to be wealthy and important: a celebrity. The girl stayed at his side and except for when he asked her questions, she said nothing. He liked that: bitch know her place, he reveled in internal satisfaction. He liked her looks too. She was medium height and a little, “thick”. She was clearly interested but hadn’t gotten in his way when he flirted with other women. He truly liked this one. The more he considered her, the more he wanted to get down to business.
Eventually, he posed the question to her, “How much for the next few hours?” His brazen suggestion that she would take money for sexual favors was the final test. If she grew angry, then she didn’t appreciate his genius…
“Whatever you think is fair. How about we see if I can satisfy you? If I can, then you may want to be generous… as you have been so far.” She hefted the chips so that the pieces clinked in her palm. “If not, I don’t deserve a reward.”
She had passed with flying colors. Might even take this one back to civilization with me, he purred in his mind. He’d always thought of himself as a Big Cat… maybe a leopard or jaguar, definitely something dangerous and sleek. His need grew more intense by the moment. He desperately wanted this woman. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” He husked in a voice grown thick with desire.
They reached his suite, his groupies having been dismissed to their own nefarious pursuits, even his bodyguard. The big man had shrugged, “Your call boss-man.” and then stumped across the hallway to his own room. Now he was finally alone with… her. He stripped off his shirt and flipped his shoes into a corner. She stood by the window and watched. The drinks he’d consumed finally caught up with him before he’d shucked his pants and drawers, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He was excited, which made urinating a challenge, but it had to be done, so that he could maximize his pleasure. When he stepped from the restroom, au natural, he saw that his latest conquest had done the same and now stood, bare to the world and staring out the window, all the curtains on it pushed to one side, so that the night loomed and the light of a single small desk lamp lit the room. He stalked over to her, ready to take her right there at the window in full view of anyone who looked up from the outside. He secretly hoped for an audience. He enjoyed having others watch him take what he wanted.
She turned to face him, her head lowered… no, it had sunken into her body, only her hair remained above her shoulders! A… mouth, gaping and slavering opened on her stomach, a mouth too large for her body and rimmed with rows of teeth like sharpened spikes. She stepped forward to embrace him and the screaming began… sounds that he was accustomed to eliciting from others rather than emitting from his own person.
**** * ****
“Rhino” was unhappy. He didn’t like to leave Darnell unattended. Perhaps now that his boss was in the room, he could go stand guard outside the door. He took care of some personal ablutions as he wolfed down a couple of energy bars and then walked out into the hallway. He started to settle in front of Darnell’s door, when he heard a muffled scream and faint… slobbering-gobbling noises come from the other side. He quickly tried the door, initially too panicked to think of the extra key card with which Darnell had entrusted him. He fumbled for it and soon had the door open. The interior was completely dark. The light from the hallway spilled inward but didn’t seem to reach as far into the room as it should.
He drew his pistol from the holster on his waistband and began to stalk forward, “Boss, you okay? You hurt?” The room was as silent as a tomb, he shivered a little as that thought crossed his mind. Over by the closed drapes, he smelled something awful: fresh blood and spilled entrails… recent death. His feet squelched on wet carpet. He turned around quickly. There had been no noise, but he’d felt a… presence. There she stood, arms spread wide, mouth on her gut spread wider. Rhino wasn’t one to scream or yell, even in extremis, so no others would come to this room to investigate.
**** * ****
Shelly was glad when the rowdy group left the roulette wheel that sat behind her favorite row of slots. The former “one-armed bandits”, that were now, “multiple button digital bandits” lined every available wall space, and in some spaces stood in rows that drew regulars like a dung-heap draws flies. She’d grabbed her favorite machine early in the evening and sat sliding in dollar bills and working up her points. It was called “Buffalo Dance” and featured images of American Bison and feather-bedecked hunters. The theme on the screen matched and she hoped to one day see the “White Buffalo” image adorn the entire set of images… the grand prize view. Despite the fun graphics, it was her favorite because it was near a restroom and a free soda and snack bar. She found herself ahead and on a roll. She absently lipped her dangling cigarette back into her mouth for a long draw. The smoke obscured the screen for a moment, and then she noted a shadow that lengthened across the reflective surface. Someone stood close behind her. Someone who exuded a chilly air. She paused and looked around, “Can I help you?”
There was no answer, though the shadow shifted slightly as if its caster had heard her.
Now she grew annoyed, this is just the sort of thing to break my winning streak! she raged internally. She braced her hands against the machine and worked her buttocks to make the stool on which she perched spin, so she could confront her harasser. She gaped, and nearly lost her cigarette, there was no one standing near enough to cast the shadow. No one even faced her. She chalked it up to excitement, maybe someone stepped too close when passing to go to the restroom, she thought, still a little annoyed and... chilled.
She turned back to her game and continued working the buttons, pumping in bills, and winning, a little at a time, the points now built well above her investment. This weekend is gonna pay for the last two months of losing and breaking even, she thought triumphantly. The shadow loomed across the screen once more, this time even larger, as though the figure that cast it stood closer. The shape was amorphous but hinted at anthropomorphic. She shivered as an icy breeze flowed around her, as though the air conditioning had sent out a short, cold burst, a minor malfunction…
She turned around with more alacrity and determination than the last time, mouth agape, cigarette once more dangling… precipitously and endangering the cleavage she displayed, already baked and wrinkled from years of sunbathing. The frigid air passed, and no one stood anywhere near her, though a customer approached, headed for either snacks or relief. “Excuse me sir, did you just see someone, maybe a large man, standing behind me?”
The man paused and looked at her in confusion. He had clearly been absorbed in his own thoughts, “Er, what? Uh, No. I wasn’t really paying attention, but… no.” He bustled on toward the free fountain drinks machine.
Shelly shrugged, can’t give up now, the pot is even bigger. She checked her points; she was nearing her all-time high. The winnings would pay her space rental fee at the RV park for the entire month. She pressed and played the buttons more fervently than ever, determined to break the bank on straight points or to reach that magical spin that would offer an instant reward of $10,000.00. She set her new points record and reveled for a moment. She reached for the now small stack of dollar bills the rest having been devoured by the machine. She fed in the entire remaining amount, then once more gazed at the screen. It was entirely blackened by a looming shadow.
The temperature of the air around her plummeted and she shuddered with the sudden biting cold. The cigarette was long extinguished, and she’d let the cold fag fall into the ash tray built onto the side of the machine opposite the drink holder. She was so cold, and she wanted to cry out for help, but the darkness closed in around her as the shadow enveloped her and cut off her breathing. Her fingers, paused above the “spin” button, struck and as her consciousness faded, she saw the flashing blue light and heard the blare of the winner’s siren. White Buffalo images filled all nine spaces. I won! The grand prize!
**** * ****
Terry filled his large cup and stood sipping and daydreaming. He’d lost everything he’d budgeted to lose. Yet he knew that one more try would put him back in black for this trip. He mused about what he would do with the prize money. He’d set his limit at $300.00 and had quickly lost it all on slots. Maybe he could risk just a few more dollars… skip a lunch or two until his next paycheck if it didn’t work. He was startled by the jackpot winner’s flashing light and siren that went off just behind him. That bitch! He yelled internally. Figures some old used up skank would win the big prize. He looked over at the nearby machine with anger and envy vying for control of his senses. She was gone!
He stepped over to the machine and looked around in confusion. Maybe she’d gone to the restroom? No, she’d have passed right by me. He shook his head and stepped up to look at the screen. He could still feel the recent presence of a player, the trace of warmth from a human body that might linger in a space for just a moment after the human had vacated the space. He looked around the casino floor, she was nowhere in sight. She’d been wearing a low-cut silver-spangled top that was cut way too low for her sagging, sun-ravaged bosom. She should be easy to spy, she looked like a deflated disco ball that had fallen from the ceiling to play slots. The only thing that came his way was a train of employees, led by a waitress in a skimpy outfit with purple sparkles and carrying a tray with a glass and a dark bottle. She was followed by other employees, who’d formed a sort of conga line: they sang a congratulatory chorus as they approached.
Terry gaped for a moment when he realized that they thought he was the big winner. He’d have to deny it of course. Surely the woman would be back at any moment to claim her prize. The floor cameras would have recorded who had sat at the machine, but it was too late. The group of enthused employees encircled him, and the attractive young waitress poured him a glass of champagne and snuggled up to him. The manager approached and seized his hand for a vigorous shake, “Well done sir! I see that not only have you hit the jackpot, but you’ve raised an additional $3,000.00 in points. A fabulous prize and well played I’m sure.”
Terry was flabbergasted. He’d never won anything like this… I still haven’t, not really, he reminded himself. He rarely broke even on his gambling forays, whether to the casino, or the corner store for lottery tickets and video slots. He allowed himself to be swept into the reverie and led from the machine to the bar. The employees peeled away as they approached, and he soon found himself with only the bottle and a receipt that he could cash out before he left the premises. A sullen-looking woman stood behind the bar, wiping glasses and a large, mean-looking security staffer menaced the far end. He already had his bottle, so he wasn’t sure why the staff members had deposited him with these two killjoys. He shrugged, picked up the champagne and started to walk away from the bar.
“You can’t take that with you. Either drink it here or give it to me and I’ll put it in the trash.” The bartender stated in monotone.
The security officer stood up straight from where he’d been leaning against the far wall, apparently propping up the building. He folded his massive arms in a threatening manner. Silly, thought Terry, folded arms should be a hindrance, but I get the feeling he’s dangerous regardless. He figured that he’d had enough anyway and set the nearly empty bottle on the bar, “You can keep it ma’am. I can afford another at the hotel.” Terry started to walk away from the bar, but a huge ham-like hand seized his shoulder.
Sausage-sized fingers applied painful pressure, “You apologize to the lady.” The wet heat from a mouth placed uncomfortably close to his ear and beath smelling of river bottom, sent a shiver of disgust through his body. The voice was low and deep as the river that ran past the back side of the property.
Terry decided on the better part of valor and head facing forward to avoid the obscene orifice, “Sorry ma’am, I meant no offense.”
The fingers let go and a harsh laugh sounded from behind the bar. “He don’t even know why he’s apologizing, fool. He ain’t worth the trouble, let him go.”
Terry felt a slight shove and he was sent on his way to the cash-out window. There he met with the lead cashier, an older woman in drab clothing, “I’m sorry sir, we give out only these pre-paid cards, we cannot provide cash over $1,000.00. However, you can treat them like a debit or credit card.” the cashier informed him. It seemed he had no choice, so he accepted. Thirteen grand is thirteen grand, he assured himself. He was elated, though he continued to glance around nervously, waiting for the woman in the sparkly fish-scale top to accost him and name him thief. Yet she was nowhere to be seen. The floor was full of players, some laughing, some intense, some dejected or mesmerized by the games of chance in which they’d lost themselves.
He thought about what to do with the rest of his evening. He didn’t have a hotel room; he’d planned to sleep in his station wagon as he always did before the long haul home. Perhaps he should get a room? Maybe they would take him without a reservation… he giggled a little at the unintended pun: a reservation at the Reservation… he shook his head to clear his overreaction to the silly internal joke. He decided that maybe someone on staff could help him. He approached the major domo at the front entrance that led to the interior walkway and the hotel beyond, “Excuse me sir, do you know whether the hotel will accept a resident without a prior reservation?”
The man, single dark braid wrapped in a leather holder and draped over one shoulder, looked at him gravely, “Yes, I know.” He said nothing more and did not smile as though he’d intended to be humorous.
Terry tried again, “Will you tell me please?”
The man flicked his chin in the direction of the hotel, “See the clerk at the desk.”
“Jerk, you’d think I hadn’t pissed away enough cash in this place over the past few years,” Terry muttered as he stumped toward the hotel, ensuring that he was well beyond earshot before he spoke. His head had begun to buzz a little from the champagne. Took a while for it to affect me, he mused. The hallway appeared to narrow, and his peripheral vision grew grey. He felt dizzy and as he entered the main lobby, the large room began to spin. His last view was of the sky-blue ceiling decorated with a few puffy clouds as it faded into darkness like the sun had set.
He awakened to the sounds of voices chattering happily. He looked around, his vision blurred slightly and his head feeling heavy and sore. He soon found that he could not move his arms or legs… they were bound… he was strapped to a table. He saw numerous bodies moving about in the mostly dark space in which he found himself. “Please.” He croaked, throat dry and feeling scraped. “Please, help me, let me loose. Loose me…” his perceptions cleared slowly, and he saw that the bodies that moved around him, now chanting rhythmically rather than babble-chattering, were emaciated. The owners showed as much bone through their skin as would a dead thing, long decayed. He noted spikes above a few heads… no, antlers… The rest wore… masks? Of various beasts… no, the skulls of those creatures, still filled with glistening fangs. Their dance grew ever more frantic, more energetic than they should be capable of performing. Then one of them reached out with a stick, on the end of which was a small claw, taken and preserved from some dead animal. It used the claw to gouge out a scoop of flesh from Terry’s side. He screamed in torment and horror. His screams soon matched the rhythm of the chanting and they went on for a long time before they at last faded when he’d lost too much blood to remain conscious.
**** * ****

I am a Baritone Opera singer whose been working towards a professional career from day one. I have been through every trial, from low level chorus work all the way through to principal work. I have spent twenty of the best years of my life, and earned both my bachelors and masters of music, in order to pursue my professional goals. I wanted to make the most of my ability to sing opera, by applying for representation, so that I could travel and perform professionally.
I have also faced a great deal of disappointment, however. great enough to make me think that I’ve lost that meaning to my life. I’ve faced being sexually assaulted, being barred from roles because of my eye and hair coloweight, being ostracized by entire groups of singers for no good reason, even being told that my military service was a detriment to my ability to sing. Worst of all, instead of support and alternatives, I’ve dealt with everybody giving “excuses” for the perpetrators of these wrongs.... I’ve never given excuse, I worked for a fair opportunity.
This last year was supposed to be that golden opportunity. you know where you have all your ducks in a row and you’ve done your diligence and You’ve made yourself ready for anything? Well I didn’t pass it up! This last February I was supposed to be in Berlin for an agent audition. In the summer of ‘19, I earned my masters, and went on to a young artist program for a production of “Don Giovanni“. It was an amazing show and I prepared and performed Masetto Until I didn’t even know who I was. But while I was there, I linked up with an agent. I got to sing for him, he was extremely nice, and invited me back for an official audition for his Roster (I had shown that I had what it takes, That all those years of hard work were worth it!!!). So after leaving Germany that summer, I returned home and took a job at a casino to make the money to return, and in the meantime I spent the next six months preparing and studying my music for a real professional audition. When I had achieved the money, I contacted the agency and asked to audition, and they said yes. I Purchased my airline tickets, my mandatory travel insurance, my lodgings, my overseas cellular data plan, And even budgeted for food every day I was to be there, as well as coaching in Frankfurt with a top of the line musician to prepare myself! I had all my ducks in a row and this was supposed to be that one big shot....
The company, CICADA Kunstler Agentur reneged on the audition, on the agreed time and date, and not Far enough back before I was supposed to fly for me to change my itinerary, so that the agent could somehow go to Spain that week instead! I was stranded in Berlin for that entire week! My coach decided to shirk out on me So I couldn’t travel to Frankfurt. I spent the week trying to find other opportunities in Germany. I was stranded, and out €3000 with nothing…
I contacted other agencies, other companies which had opportunities listed for both principal and chorus roles. I contacted Facebook groups for opera singers I was in to see if they had any opportunities available, Especially since I had seen several posts of people looking for opportunities, and the community being open and helpful in what they could find. I even tried to tap in to my veteran ties, and reach out to the army field band at Graffenwoher air base, To see if they had any connections in the music scene at Germany to whom I might be redirected… I got the cold shoulder from everybody. The few companies in Germany who responded told me they were not looking. Everybody on the Facebook groups started giving the agency excuses and asking Against me, Wondering what I somehow did wrong and discouraging me from pressing for recompense. And instead of opportunities like they had for others, they didn’t offer me or suggest anything, nobody was looking for me. It was as though I had worked for everything myself, and when it all fell through my fingers, nobody wanted to be there to help me back up, and nobody still wants to be there to help!
That being said, my last audition was put off Until November of this year because everybody jumped on Covid, so even though I’ve been broken I tried as best I could to prepare or NYIOP. But then my father had a heart attack about a week and a half before I was supposed to sing. The strain of saving his life, along with how my older brother shrugged it off and disrespected me for the effort, left me now with clinical depression, post traumatic stress syndrome...NYIOP Made its excuse, and rejected me as well. I fucked up on the language in my condition, and when I couldn’t make excuse to them, they made excuse to me and rejected me with it...
I am asking if there is any hope, because Opera Music over the years has become the meaning to my life. It has given meaning to my life. And now that I’m older, I don’t think I could continue living, if that opportunity I’ve worked for passes me up because it was taken away, both by bad luck and by covid. I’ve tried to exist as best I could. I tried taking up the courses in computer programming As an alternate skill... but I’m nowhere near as happy as I was whenever I was on the stage. I’m asking if anyone here knows of any real professional opportunities left for me. It’s not like I haven’t been on YapTracker or Audition Oracle, otherwise I wouldn’t be asking. Please 😭 I’m begging you!

This chapter was a labour of love, heists are hard. Big thanks to u/eruwenn for helping tidy up this bag of snakes.
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“Ranjaz K’Lua, you thieving scumbag!” the Kah’Ree in the purple suit exclaimed loudly as he spotted them across the busy room. “As I live and skral, I never thought you would have the Jolos show your face here again!”
Two J’Rami in suits detached themselves from the lobby wall, walking towards the Kittran and his friends. “Alfor, my old friend!” Ranjaz smiled broadly. “No need for the welcoming party, I’ve got your credits” —he gestured to Cygna— “and a sweetener, for all the trouble I caused last time.”
Alfor paused, lecherous eyes assessing the Fae’Dan. “You know I have a thing for purple.” He chuckled at his own joke and waved the guards back to their posts. “How about we have a drink, and discuss your forgiveness.” He pointed to Thor and Eruwenn. “Brought your own security, or are these Gal. Fed. goons? Everyone knows about your probation.”
The Kittran gave a broad grin. “I got a Tulseria-damned pardon, a new ship and a very lucrative opportunity.”
The Kah’Ree smiled. “How’d a thieving cat like you get a pardon?” He gave Ranjaz an appraising look up and down. “Oh? Now, let me guess, you need something from me and my brother?”
Ranjaz fired his finger guns. “You were always the smart one Alfor, that’s why you run the casino floor.” The Kittran stepped in close. “The item, do you still have it?”
Alfor tilted his head back and away from Ranjaz. “Your little guarantee?” He looked back down at Ranjaz. “We have it somewhere safe. Had some unusual people come by after you got caught. Asked a lot of questions. Made a lot of threats.” His face contorted in anger. “We got audited thanks to you.”
The Kittran smiled. “If only they knew you better, they could have simply paid you for the information.”
“We give nothing for free.” The Kah’Ree gave a sinister smile. “House rule.”
Ranjaz walked forward to put his his arm on Alfor’s back. “Let’s go see your brother. Have a few drinks, maybe gamble a little, and discuss our future riches.”
 
 
Ripley stood in the shadows of the staff shuttle bay, watching as the numerous employees of assorted races came and went. Loud laughter caught her attention, and a very strangely dressed Niham broke away from a small group and walked towards her. Ripley tried to maintain her low profile as the scantily clad female strutted towards her in long black boots with pointed heels that clacked loudly with every step.
Deliberately avoiding eye contact the Awakened tried to will herself into the wall but it was too late and a voice called out to her. “Hey Darling! You must be the one I’m looking for.”
Ripley shook her head. The Kittran had said the contact was an Ashi pirate captain, a master gambler and expert in procuring the unusual. “I don’t-”
“Listen cutie,” she interrupted, “you’re the one lurking in dark corners drawing attention to yourself. I’ve got your security card. You tell that fluffy little stud he owes me. And more than a bottle of Fae’Dan wine and a good time, if you know what I mean.” She held up the card between her fingers, just a little out of Ripley’s reach.
The Awakened considered the phrase ‘fluffy little stud’ and decided that, despite her hopes, this was probably her contact. “You’re Captain Whiplash?”
The Ashi laughed genuinely, the jiggling of tightly squeezed breasts bursting at shiny black restraints making Ripley nervous. “Oh, Darling! Only my little pets call me that! You may call me Sho’Na.”
Ripley was momentarily confused. “So, you aren’t a pirate captain?”
“I’m anything they pay me to be.” She smiled at the silver-haired woman's naivety. “You really are new to this.”
Ripley, caught off guard, simply nodded, then replied, “I’m a quick learner.”
“Good for you, Darling.” Sho’Na handed over the card. “Just make sure you get paid up front, and don’t use your real name with clients. Ruins the mystique.”
Ripley was unsure of what was being said. Turning the card over in her hands she saw that the holo-image on the front was of a male Arkellian. “This isn’t me?”
“Honey, I was given half a cycle to get you a level three security card. Just be glad it’s a biped.” Sho’Na looked Ripley up and down. “Our mutual acquaintance told me you were some sort of master of disguise who could even trick Selva Blaster.”
Ripley paused, then smiled. Her appearance had become such an integral part of her identity she had forgotten that it was entirely optional. “It won’t be a problem.” She looked at the card again. “Unless the owner comes looking for it.”
Sho’Na gave another bosom-trembling laugh that threatened to spill out at any moment. “Oh, don’t worry, he’s tied up at the moment.”
The Awakened considered the risk. “Hmmm, but for how long?”
The few strips of shiny black material that comprised Sho’Na’s revealing outfit strained under her amusement. “Don’t you worry, Darling. He paid for the whole night.”
 
 
Eruwenn had reassessed her opinion of Ranjaz many times since meeting him. The criminal. The loyal friend. The lazy trouble-maker. All were true, but now she was seeing something new. He sat opposite Toran, the brother of Alfor, in a game of dalcho she wished she could have taken part in, but was equally glad she did not.
At first she had thought the Kittran was outmatched, a few reckless mistakes costing him dearly as the Kah’Ree deftly selected his tiles. Toran was clearly a seasoned gambler, using a blend of the Remee Le’Bow Gambit and the Kowals’Kee Analysis she hadn’t seen before. It seemed to be dismantling Ranjaz’s tiles before he could even prepare his cards. A few fortunate dice rolls and he had taken a strong lead from the outset. The Kittran appeared desperate, playing any tile available to try and slow the defeat.
It had all been a ruse, she saw it; Ranjaz had saved his best tiles and carefully thrown hands to manipulate the cards. In just a few rounds he would be able to dominate the board and raise the stakes, recouping his losses and changing the course of the game entirely. She had encountered few players who could manipulate the game so deftly, using memory and layers of strategy to corner their opponent. It was magnificent.
Eruwenn couldn’t tear her eyes from the board as she stood beside Thor. The Awakened had shown no interest in the game, studiously watching the opposite door as Toran’s staff came in and out. When a waiter entered and began preparing drinks at the small private bar in the executive gambling room, Thor coughed. It was a strange thing for an Awakened to do, and Eruwenn finally looked up from the table. “Are you ok?”
Thor nodded. By the time he had looked towards her, she had returned her attention completely to the game. “You don’t seem concerned about your friend?” he asked.
The Anatidae watched as Ranjaz used a blind double feint, and the sheer audacity of such a move made her swallow hard. She didn’t look back to Thor, but mumbled a response. “I’m very confident in her abilities.”
The waiter was methodically placing drinks by each of the players, but when they stood behind Ranjaz the Kittran surged to his feet, shouting, “Hey! No cheating Toran! Getting your waiter to look over my shoulder? That’s a dirty move I’d expect from your brother!”
Thor had reacted faster than Eruwenn, pinning the arms of the Arkellian waiter in a vice-like bear hug. Toran slowly stood. He was big, heavily muscled, and the veins on his neck bulged as his anger rose. “Don’t accuse me in my own place.” He cracked his knuckles and glowered down at Ranjaz. “I run a straight game.”
Fearlessly the Kittran walked right up to the Kah’Ree and stared up into his face from waist height. “Don’t try and intimidate me, you son of a Vogel.” Ranjaz puffed out his chest and began pushing the burly casino owner. “Nobody cheats me!”
The blow caught Ranjaz across the cheek and sent him sprawling across the room. Eruwenn winced at the impact, but maintained her composure. Toran laughed. “Watch your tongue or I’ll add it to my collection.” He walked round the table and kicked Ranjaz in the stomach, glaring at Thor and Eruwenn, daring them to act. “Know your place trash. You’re at this table because you put credits up front. You are a dishonest thief, begging for scraps, and cosying up to me any my brother to get your little trinket back.” He returned to his seat. “Why would I need to cheat against the likes of you?”
Ranjaz stood, brushing himself off. “Fine, fine.” He waved a hand and Thor dropped the Arkellian. Ranjaz tapped him on the chest. “My mistake.” He sat down and picked up his cards once more. “You’re right Toran, you run a clean game. I’m just a sore loser.” He shuffled the order of the tiles that were still face down on the table. “To show my sincerity, how about we double the buy for the rest of the game?”
Toran snorted. “Double?” He looked at the Kittran, scrutinising his opponent. The game was already over; he had control of the board and his tiles occupied the three prime positions. Was the thief trying to buy his favour, he wondered? How much was the trinket he wanted truly worth? He decided it was worth testing. “Triple, and I’ll forget you dared touch me.”
The Kittran swallowed hard, his ears flat to his head. Toran momentarily worried he’d pushed for too much but a decision seemed to be reached. “Fine. Triple.” The look of defeat was delicious to the Kah’Ree.
 
 
Cygna had done her part and lured Alfor to a private room away from his security. She had danced, skipped and side-stepped his groping hands so far, maintaining a playfulness that ensured he complied. This sort of thing was not new to her; she had spent time undercover in the past. Fortunately, there had been little call for it since she had joined forces with Eruwenn.
Alfor’s eyes scanned her body once more. “The Kittran has very good taste.” He licked his lips, a small amount of drool escaping and running down his chin. He wiped it on his sleeve. “Now, I brought you somewhere quiet. How about you show me how sweet you can be?”
The Fae’Dan smiled coyly and continued her dancing just out of reach, glancing to the doorway where Alfor’s two guards stood watching her. “With an audience?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
With a sly grin he waved the guards out of the room. “Now come here and let me satisfy you like only a Kah’Ree can.” His eyes wandered over her body once more.
Cygna smiled, her own eyes moving from the Kah’Ree’s hands to his shoulders, then up towards his neck. An interesting fact about the Kah’Ree was the thick blood vessels on the side of their neck. They often bulged when a Kah’Ree was angry or excited, like Alfor’s were as he leered at her. She danced closer. Another interesting fact was that their brains were not as efficient as those of other species, hence the requirement for additional blood flow; more oxygen per limited thought.
He leaned forward, his eyes locked to her swaying hips. Cygna turned slowly, and his head tilted to appreciate her assets. The third, lesser known, fact about the Kah’Ree was that an interruption to the blood flow while they were in this excited state caused them to lose consciousness rapidly as their brain burned through the available oxygen. “My eyes are up here.” She smiled as he looked up at her with his head still tilted.
He sneered. “Who ca-”
The Fae’Dan struck the side of his neck with the edge of her hand, targeting the throbbing blood vessel with a powerful blow. The interruption to his brain's oxygen supply worked perfectly and he fell face forward onto the ground at her feet. She let out a sigh of relief and looked down at his unconscious body. “Thank you, that was particularly satisfying.”
She walked over to the door and peeked out, finding the guards standing either side. “He said to order us some drinks.” One of the guards nodded and immediately put his hand to his lapel communicator.
Back inside the room, Cygna used her foot to roll Alfor to his back and began searching his pockets. She came up empty. Her eyes caught a glimmer from his collar and she found a heavy gold chain, at the end of which was his security key. She removed it just as a knock came at the door. A deep voice from the other side called out. “Your drinks, boss.”
The Fae’Dan quickly messed up her hair. Using the back of her hand she smeared her lipstick sideways, and then pulled the strap of her dress down off her shoulder. She opened the door and, to her surprise, was faced with an Arkellian waiter. The bodyguards noted her dishevelled appearance and shared a smirk, and she said, “Oh, I wasn’t expec-”
The waiter pushed the trolley into the room. “Don’t keep the boss waiting, lady.” Before Cygna could reply they were inside and the door closed. “Relax, it’s me.”
Ripley’s voice sounded bizarre coming from the male Arkellian form, and Cygna’s eyes went wide in shock. Her sharp mind quickly adjusted to this new information. Of course the Awakened could change their physical appearance; she had just never seen it. They all seemed quite attached to their chosen human forms. “Neat trick.” She held out Alfor’s key. “Did you get the other one?”
Ripley nodded. “The Kittran played his part well. I didn’t see him take it, and didn’t feel it when he placed it in my pocket. Now that was a neat trick.”
The Fae’Dan smiled. “I think I’ll pass on that dalcho game.”
The Arkellian Ripley smiled. “Probably wise.” Turning, she slipped the key into her pocket and headed back out of the door.
 
 
Ripley entered the elevator to the owner's private offices on the top floor. Thanks to the distractions downstairs, the two large desks in the centre of the room were empty. She walked straight past them to the large leokas painting on the wall and swung it forward. Behind it was a Fae’Dan safe; she took out the two keys and a small homemade device the Kittran had given her.
Attaching the device to the bio-lock and standing before the safe, she elongated her arms to reach both key positions at once. There was more than one reason she was the one chosen for this task. The device beeped twice and small lights above each lock lit up. She simultaneously turned both keys, and there was a satisfying clunk.
She raised an eyebrow. The device had worked. The heavy safe door swung open and she began her search. Ranjaz had been very specific: while there was one item she had to get, she was to grab as much as possible to obscure their true target.
Quickly grabbing as much as she could she retrieved the keys and ran back across the room towards the elevator.
 
 
Cygna hauled Alfor back onto the seat, putting him in a more natural position and messing up his hair. She looked away as she began unbuttoning his clothes, pulling his trousers around his ankles and opening his shirt up to bare his chest. From a secret pocket inside her dress she pulled out a lace thong, setting it on his head like a bandana. She also had a small box which she opened, inside of which was a replica mouth with lipstick that matched her own.
Cygna carefully applied kiss marks all over his exposed skin before popping the fake lips back into the secret pocket. She took the Fae’Dan wine and partially filled two glasses, making sure to take a long drink from one and leave more lipstick marks. The rest of the wine was poured into the ice bucket.
She heard the sound of voices outside the door. The guards were arguing with someone, refusing them entry, but when the name Toran was mentioned it was Ripley who entered, still in uniform but now looking much like her usual self. She smirked at the Kah’Ree in his derobed state. “I can see you had fun.”
The Fae’Dan chuckled. “That’s the idea.” She looked at the Awakened in her true form. “You look… better.”
Ripley cocked her head. “It would be strange if the waiter came back to deliver a message.” She tossed the necklace key to Cygna, who replaced it on Alfor’s neck.
Reclining on the sofa and picking up her glass, Cygna took another long drink. “Get the other one back to Ranjaz quickly. This one won’t be napping much longer.”
The Awakened gave an almost Ranjaz-like grin. “You could always hit him again.” Before the Fae’Dan could reply she had ducked back out of the door. She caught the eye of one of the bodyguards and gave a head tilt back towards the room. “The boss is really enjoying himself!”
As the suited pair chuckled, the larger of the two got a message in his ear piece. “Hey, silver hair.” He grunted. “Boss has an important guest. Meet them in the foyer and bring them to the dalcho room.”
Ripley was relieved – she needed a reason to get into that room. “On my way.”
 
 
Toran was seething as he watched as the Kittran flipped his final tile. Why would he have waited so long to play the Wings of Tulseria tile? His stomach sank, and he couldn’t hold back his anger any longer. “Damn you!”
Ranjaz gave a full-fanged grin. “Looks like my luck turned at just the right moment.”
“Luck!” Toran’s tile snapped between his fingers. Why had he let the damned cat goad him into constantly increasing their bet? The cycle had started with him owing the brothers a million credits plus interest, and now the infuritating Kittran had won nearly forty times that. “Nobody is that lucky.”
“Woah!” Ranjaz held up his hands. “I would never cheat, well... certainly not a second time. After you caught me, I’d be a fool to try.”
“Hmm.” Toran looked at the two behind the Kittran. The big one would be a problem, but the Anatidae looked to be nothing special. “How about I give you back your little trinket and we call it even?”
“My trinket?” Ranjaz shook his head. “I had to convince you it was worth the million I owed. Why would you think I’d trade it for thirty eight million credits? I’ll pay what I owe, take my trinket and my winnings and leave.”
Toran folded his arms and looked across the dalcho board at Ranjaz. “And why would I let you do that?” The atmosphere in the room changed as the two security guards changed their stance. “Transfer the credits back to the house.”
Ranjaz dropped the grin, replacing it with a defiant glare. “What happened to you running a straight game?”
“The game was straight. You won, didn’t you?” He leaned forward, his eyes cold and hard. “You’re just in no position to collect.”
The Kittran was about to argue when the door behind Toran opened. He looked up as Ripley entered, and his eyes widened in shock. She wasn’t alone. “Toran, you bastard! You sold me out!”
“For ten million credits.” Toran stared hard at Ranjaz. “Care to make a better offer?”
Eruwenn’s eyes blazed with anger as the grey-suited Niham pulled up a seat and sat down beside Toran. “Now, now, you lied to me about having the item before. Don’t double cross me.” Sentinel Krast placed his hands together on the table, interlacing his fingers. “I’m not somebody who forgives easily.” He looked directly at Eruwenn. “Isn’t that right, former Councillor? A little far from your new Ambassador position, aren’t you?”
Ripley stood back against the wall. She had no idea who the newcomer was, but this most definitely was not the plan. The golden green Anatidae walked forward to stand behind Ranjaz. “Oh, I had a little vacation time saved up, and decided to spend it with my good friend here.” She placed a hand on the Kittrans shoulder. “And what brings a Sentinel here?”
Krast’s lips curled in what might approximate a smile. “I’m also acquainted with Mr K’Lua. In fact, we go back a very long way.” He turned to look directly at Ranjaz. “Now, return what is mine.”
Toran looked from Ranjaz to Krast. “Yours? You don’t look like the tiara wearing type.”
The Sentinel didn’t turn his head. “Ah, so you hid the data chip inside some shiny bauble. As inventive as ever, Mr K’Lua.” The Niham finally acknowledged Toran by looking at him. “Bring. It. Here.”
The Kah’Ree sucked air through his teeth. “Well, seems like we have something mighty important, and two very interested parties.” He stood and walked to his two security officers, who drew their weapons in unison. “Now then, I believe you” —he nodded to Krast— “offered ten million. How about it Ranjaz, old friend? What’s your counter offer?”
The Kittran had been sitting, silently seething at his double cross being double crossed. He looked at Krast. “Were you the one?”
Toran was surprised at being ignored, but before he could reply Krast answered, “The one?”
Ranjaz’s eyes narrowed, his ears alert, his tail swishing aggressively. “The one who took my friend!” he snarled as he felt Eruwenn’s hand holding him back gently.
Krast’s eyes glittered as he saw the impotent rage in his opponent’s eyes. “Ah, the poor deceased human?” He smiled his mannequin-esque smile. “And if I was?”
Toran snatched a pistol from one of his men and fired a blast at the ceiling. “Your quarrel can wait. Let’s settle our business first and you can kill each other after I’m paid.” He paused, then added, “but, not in my casino. Body disposal costs extra.”
Eruwenn’s hand gripped Ranjaz’s shoulder harder, and he braced himself. In one smooth move she both threw him backwards and to the right, and kicked the dalcho table up and forward into Krast's face. The Sentinel fell backwards as a blast from Toran struck the table, but Eruwenn was already on the move, sidestepping left and ducking forward into a cartwheel. Toran's gun had been following Ranjaz, but as her leg swept down it knocked the weapon from his grip.
Once she stabilized, her fist, already primed with momentum from the cartwheel, struck Toran below the ribs and knocked the wind from him. The guard, whose gun the Kah'Ree had been holding, lunged forward to grab Eruwenn but she simply deflected his hand, pairing his forward momentum with her rising elbow to swiftly render him unconscious.
The second guard had just begun to raise his weapon when a huge fist struck him in his chest, sending him careening backwards into the wall. Thor loomed over him, shaking his head as he retrieved the energy pistol. “Too slow.”
Ripley helped Ranjaz to his feet as Krast pushed the table off his chest. Toran was coughing and struggling to breathe as Ranjaz pressed the retrieved energy pistol to his forehead. “Double cross me?” He dragged the Kah’Ree forward. “I want to see the item, then I’ll pay what I owe.” The two of them awkwardly made their way back towards Krast, so Ranjaz could point the gun in his face. “Then we can talk about your body disposal fee.”
Krast stood, and his phony smile was gone. “You can’t kill me. The Sentinels will tear this place apart, hunt you down and kill you. You think I came alone? My ship is in orbit and waiting for my orders!”
Ranjaz grabbed him by the jacket, pulling him down to his level, and struck him in the face with the butt of the pistol. Thor cooly kept his stolen pistol pointed at Toran and the one conscious guard. By the third blow Krast’s face was bloody, his nose broken and he began to struggle against Ranjaz’s assault.
A muted boom caused everyone present to stop in their tracks. Alarms began to sound and Toran swore loudly. He pulled out his communicator, ignoring Thor’s pistol. “What the hell was that!” He held the device close as he listened. “My office?” He patted his pocket. Finding his key in place, he looked to Ranjaz and then Krast. “Seal the casino! And where is my brother?”
Ripley suddenly understood why the Kittran had told her to leave his device on the safe door. After a brief further moment of shock, which she kept from showing on her face, she realized that she had been carrying an explosive without being told. If they survived, Ranjaz was going to need to explain himself. Thoroughly.
Eruwenn, Thor and Ranjaz had backed away to the opposite side of the room, standing by the door. Krast stood alone, holding his profusely bleeding nose. The opposite door soon opened to reveal scrambling casino security, with Toran and his guard standing nearby.
The unconscious guard was carried out without comment, and the Kah’Ree turned to Ripley. “Why are you still here?” She nodded and slipped out of the door, leaving one less concern for the remaining three. “Alright, which one of your skrolg-licking bastards broke into my private safe?”
Krast spat blood onto the floor, pointing at Ranjaz. “He’s the thief. You and I had a deal.”
The Kittran smirked. “I’m a better thief than blowing up a Tulseria-damned safe. If I wanted to steal it, I would have done just that. I would not have announced my arrival and sat down to a game of dalcho.”
Toran looked between the two of them. “He’s got a point.” One of his men handed him a pistol, and he continued to talk a little distractedly into his communicator. “Well, check everywhere!”
Ranjaz stirred the pot. “He’s the bastard who double crossed me, why would he honour your deal?”
Eruwenn nodded. “A government agent can’t be seen working with criminals.”
Krast's face contorted in rage. “Don’t be a damned fool, Toran!” He pointed at Ranjaz. “This is clearly some convoluted distraction.”
Toran shook his head. “They had the upper hand. You were the one getting your face ruined.”
 
 
Cygna watched nervously as Alfor began to stir. Things were taking a lot longer than expected. Finally, her signal came; it was not as subtle as she had been led to believe. As soon as the explosion went off the two bodyguards quickly came into the room, glancing from Alfor’s sleeping body to her. She staggered forward, wine bottle in hand. “We need more drinkshh!”
The guard ignored her as he saw the condition of his boss. “Not again,” he groaned. “Toran will kill us for letting him get like this.”
The second guard stepped out into the corridor. “I’m not dressing him! Last time he tried to kiss me!”
Cygna paused, not having expected it to go this way. The first bodyguard walked out as well. “He pissed on my new shoes the time before that. I’m not moving him.”
Their communicators went off and their faces became more serious. Bodyguard two spoke first. “Damn it. Toran wants him.”
The first turned to look at the increasingly bewildered Cygna. “You!” He smiled. “You got him undressed. You can dress him.”
Cygna spotted Ripley running down the corridor towards them, causing her confusion to grow further. The Awakened shouted one word. “Sentinels!”
The Fae’Dan’s mind raced. The plan was clearly blown, and they had to get out. Fast. As the guards were now facing Ripley, she took the opportunity to kick one in the back of the knee. He fell forward, and as the second turned he was met with the upward swing of a wine bottle. The first guard discovered first-hand the shocking truth of how hard the knee of an Awakened could be, and both were unconscious by the time they hit the ground.
Cygna smiled at Ripley. "Thanks."
The Awakened gave a swift nod of acknowledgement. “A Sentinel turned up, so Ranjaz set off the diversion he promised. The other brother is busy trying to figure out whether it’s us or the Sentinels robbing him.”
Cygna took on board the new information quickly, knowing she needed to help the others. “I have an idea. Lie over there and look dead.” She ran back into the room, where Alfor was groaning and starting to move. She slipped the chain from his neck and dropped it into the ice bucket, where it sank out of sight below the dark Fae’Dan wine. She began to slowly shake him.
“Huh,” he grumbled, and slowly opened his eyes. “Wha.. what happened?”
Cygna clung to him tightly. “Oh thank goodness! I thought they killed you!”
“Killed?” Alfor’s head was pounding, his memory blurry. “Who-” He caught sight of his downed guards in the open doorway. “What the hell happened?” He began pulling at his clothes, and swiftly checked that his trousers were dry.
“While we were.. You know…” He nodded; he was buttoning up his clothes. He didn’t remember, but he knew. “Some scary men burst into the room and shot you! I was so scared.” She hugged him tight, pressing herself against him.
He put his arm around her. “What men? Be brave, and tell me what happened.”
She looked up at him, trying to make her eyes as big as possible, adding a lip tremble to really sell it. “I don’t know! They wore grey suits. And one of them took your necklace!”
“My necklace.” He clutched at his chest where it should have been. “Damn Sentinels! I told Toran we couldn't trust them!”
He stepped into the corridor, where Ripley lay on the ground with a terrible energy weapon burn on the side of her face. He pulled out his communicator. “Toran.” He instantly got hold of his brother. “I didn’t answer because I was knocked out. Damn Sentinels took my key, killed some of our guys.” He looked around. “Nobody important, just some waiter.” He finally pulled the underwear from his head. “I’ll go to the security room and look at the video.”
He ended the call and turned back to Cygna. “You stay here.”
She smiled. “Sorry, we can’t let you check the security footage.”
“Wha-”
Ripley struck him from behind and he crumpled to the ground, her fake burn melting from her face. The Awakened looked around, rechecking that all was clear. “I think that’s all we can do; we should get out of here. Come with me, my shuttle is in the staff bay.”
 
 
Toran closed his communicator and motioned to a guard. “Search him.”
Eruwenn wished she had some way to capture the look on Krast’s face when the remote detonator was pulled from his pocket. She'd have to hug the light-fingered Kittran later.
The Sentinel grit his teeth. “That’s not mine.”
“Sure, sure,” Toran agreed, while simultaneously shaking his head at the Sentinel. “Looks like you really didn’t come alone.”
Krast was furious, yelling, “I’m telling you-” He broke off when Ranjaz shot him in the leg, falling to the floor.
The Kah’Ree pointed his pistol at the Kittran. “Can’t let you kill a Sentinel in my casino, even if they did just rob me.”
Ranjaz was surprised the Kah’Ree had believed them so easily. “What about us?”
Toran sighed, lowering his weapon. “Take your winnings and get out. If you stole the thing once, I’m sure you can steal it again.”
Eruwenn and Thor both made to leave. Ranjaz paused, knowing he might not get another chance. “And him?”
The Kah’Ree looked at the Sentinel holding his wounded leg. “We’ll send him back to his ship. As much as I hate it, the Sentinels are untouchable.”
Ranjaz raised his pistol. “He took my friend.”
“And we’ll get him back,” Eruwenn said softly. “Then we’ll all deal with him, and the rest of the Sentinels.”
Krast sneered and spat blood once more. “Your human is dead.”
Ranjaz fired.
Krast screamed and grabbed his other leg. “You bastard!”
Toran and his men raised their weapons as the Kah’Ree yelled, “Get the hell out of here!”
Ranjaz turned and followed the others out of the door, but just as it was about to close he poked his head back in. “Oh, one last thing.”
Toran could be seen looking up just as the Kittran fired again, but he ducked out of sight before the true outcome of his shot could be seen. The shrieks of agony, however, followed the trio down the corridor as they broke into a run. Eruwenn spared a glance down at Ranjaz during their retreat. “What did you do?”
The full-fanged grin had never been larger. “Made sure we’ll see him again.”
On the floor of the dalcho room Krast was screaming in agony. He turned over to stare at the closed door. “I’ll kill you! I will hunt you down and kill every last one of you!”
Toran spoke into his communicator. “Tell the Sentinel ship to come get their man. And, bring a doctor. A really good doctor.” He nudged one of his guards and finally let out a chuckle. After all, the Sentinels had just robbed him. “You double-crossing scum always get what you deserve.”
The J’Rami guard raised an eyebrow. “Not sure anyone deserves getting shot in the balls.”
 
Next

Your 11-minute Tuesday report in 2562 words.

gas prices could rise due to currency fluctuations

Russian gas price (at the border) had increased from $150 to $165 per 1000m³ in 2019. Although the Russian currency Ruble was devaluing against the Dollar, Armenia was/is paying for gas with Dollars.
Since 2019, the Pashinyan administration has been trying to convince Russia to implement a different gas payment mechanism within the EAEU trade bloc. Making payments in Rubles instead of Dollars was one of the priorities:
"We are constantly talking about high dollarization within the EAEU, but we still pay for Russian gas in dollars. Our proposal was that it would be more correct if we paid for gas in rubles, because I think it is more logical, also within the EAEU," said Pashinyan in early 2020.
This idea was also shared by Vladimir Putin's personal adviser back in October 2018. It appears the EAEU has been working towards this goal lately.
But meanwhile, Armenia has to pay for Russian gas in Dollars. With Armenian Dram devaluing against the Dollar, the pricing for consumers will likely be revised. Consumers pay 139 Drams per cubic meter. This was calculated in 2020 when $1 was 480 Drams. Today $1 = 520 Drams.
Large consumers pay in Dollars and have their rates adjusted periodically, while small consumers (general public) pays in Drams.
Armenia imports 2.2 billion m³ gas from Russia annually, at the price of $165 per 1000m^3. 0.7 billion of it is consumed by the general public.
Dram was devalued by 6.6% since November. This could prompt the internal gas company to raise the prices, including for the general public.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039886.html
http://www.armbanks.am/en/2020/04/07/128024/
https://neftegaz.ru/en/news/energy/406887-armenia-should-pay-for-russian-gas-in-rubles/

Public Council meets drone and robotics industry

The Public Council (linked to PM's office) held a meeting with engineers from the drone, robotics, AI, and nano-tech industries. They discussed ways to help the state to develop the military-industrial complex, drone production, aviation, and to bring their quality to international standards.
https://factor.am/327477.html

former PACE MP sentenced to 4 years for taking bribes from Azerbaijan

An Italian court has concluded that Italian PACE representative Luca Volonte, who is the former head of the European People's Party, took €2.4 million in bribes from the Aliyev regime in 2012-2013.
The bribe was handed over by Azerbaijan's PACE delegation leader Suleymanov. The scheme was coordinated by an Azeri lobbying firm based in Brussels. In return, the MP gave Azerbaijan favors during PACE and Italian Parliament sessions.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039927.html
Tags: #caviar

POWs and searches

The search crews in Artsakh discovered bodies of 10 soldiers and 1 civilian in Jabrayil, Hadrut, and Sgnakh regions. The civilian has already been identified by his relatives. The cause of death is being investigated.
Many bodies under the possession of the Armenian side are yet to be identified, while more bodies will likely be found during daily searches for the foreseeable future. Overall, 575 calls have been made by families who are looking for missing relatives, says the Russian humanitarian envoy in Artsakh.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039900.html , https://www.panarmenian.net/arm/news/289293/
Human Rights Ombudsman Tatoyan once again criticized Azerbaijan for intentionally politicizing and delaying the POW swap mission. "It is against international laws to file felony cases and arrest POWs because that's a form of a prohibited punishment. Azerbaijan is also hiding the true number of POWs."
The Ombudsman has noted that Armenian residents in Tegh, Vorotan, and several other bordering villages have lost access to 2500 hectares of farming lands due to border changes. (some lands that were internationally recognized as part of Azerbaijan were given to Azerbaijan after the war).
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039933.html , https://factor.am/327226.html , https://www.armtimes.com/hy/article/204175

POW discussions: general prosecutor meets Azeri counterpart

Chief prosecutor Arthur Davtyan and his Azeri counterpart were invited to Russia. The three sides held a conversation about the establishment of future contacts in the field of international law and other related topics. Prosecutor Davtyan mentioned the importance of implementing the November 9th statement about the return of POWs, "which will serve as an assurance for implementation of other [trade unblocking] issues."
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039953.html , https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039972.html

how much will a new railway network cost?

Azeri economists believe it will cost around $430 million to build a railway network connecting Kars(TR)-Nakhijevan(AZ)-Meghri(AM)-Zangelan(AZ)-Baku(AZ). Overall, if you add Gyumri between Kars and Nakhijevan, it could cost about $434 million.
Economists believe Armenia can use this network to connect with Russia via two directions: Gyumri-Nakhijevan-Meghri-Baku (southern trip), or Ijevan-Ghazakh-Baku (northern trip).
https://www.panarmenian.net/arm/news/289313/

rumors & rebuttals: traitors are not selling Azeri juice in Armenia

Telegram channel Mediaport circulated rumors that "Azeri Sandora juice is being sold in Armenia". The misinformation was picked up by several outlets and caused confusion among the buyers.
Fact-checkers contacted Sandora's local importer who said the producer is a Ukrainian company that sells its product in multiple post-Soviet republics, so they have one unified tag that contains information both in Armenian and Azeri languages.
https://fip.am/14469

4 Dutch MPs receive medals for friendship

Among them is ethnic Kurdish MP Sadet Karabulutu, who publicly criticized the Turkish-Azeri aggression during the war.
https://www.armtimes.com/hy/article/204216

food prices in Artsakh

Pricing for 43 commonly-consumed items was examined by the consumer protection agency in Artsakh. 12 became more expensive, 5 cheaper, 26 remained the same.
Onion +25%, cottege cheese +6%, milk +6%, gloves +5%, ..., pear -12%, rice -1%, eggs -1%, butter -1%.
Several dairy product prices went up, and since Artsakh has dairy companies that own dominant market share, the consumer agency will launch an investigation to see if there was price-fixing.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039946.html

seismic resistance assessment for old buildings

A significant portion of Armenia's large apartment complex buildings were built half a century ago. They may not be seismically safe, considering Armenia's geolocation. After the 1988 earthquake, some buildings remain populated despite being deemed highly unsafe. Many other buildings have safety irregularities.
It is necessary to assess the situation, so the Urban Development Committee has drafted a bill "Methodology for assessing the priority of increasing the seismic resistance of buildings and structures".
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039887.html

IRS will closely monitor gambling industry / RFID chips & servers

IRS press release: gambling facilities and online betting services will be more closely monitored. We worked with international experts to digitize the gambling industry and bring it on par with international standards.
All gambling machines and platforms operating in Armenia will be connected to one server which will be connected to a monitoring Center. All betting and winning transactions will be recorded.
The Center will also install RFID microchips in casinos to monitor the movement of chips, the chips purchased or won by players, in real-time.
The government's Digital Council has approved the bill, which is yet to be discussed and voted in the Parliament. The goal is to be able to monitor the financial flows in this sector and to estimate the actual revenues. It will combat money laundering. (BHK skipping a Parliament session due to "COVID" in 3, 2, 1, ... /joke)
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039915.html

new "public council" will advise Nature Ministry

Nature Minister Romanos met several environmental organizations and environmentalists and discussed the creation of a new Council, which will advise him on nature protection issues, help draft bills and roadmaps, work with other environmental organizations and NGOs. The Council is accepting applications.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039896.html

large quantities of illegally-cut trees were busted

... by Ijevan policemen during a routine patrol on Sunday. Three cargo trucks were filled with wood.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039960.html

rammed through the gates

The police have arrested the father of a missing soldier who used his Vaz 21 vehicle to ram through the Defense Ministry's entrance gate before smashing it into a building on Sunday.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039957.html , https://www.panarmenian.net/arm/news/289315/

"turn off the camera"

Context: An incident happened last week between parents of drafted soldiers and military officials at a military unit. The parents wanted assurances that their sons would be safe after being deployed on Artsakh borders. The parents wanted to know why Armenian soldiers are still being sent to Artsakh "despite the November 9th statement saying Armenians should withdraw from Artsakh."
During the confrontation, an incident happened between a military official and a journalist. The official struck the camera and instructed it to be turned off. Several media outlets released a message condemning the officer for hindering the journalist's work.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039973.html

infrastructure upgrades

Four settlements in Kotayk province (Yeghvard, Nor Gegh, Aragel, Zovuni) have a newly renovated irrigation pipeline as part of a govt subsidy program.
https://www.armtimes.com/hy/article/204202

today in history

1932: First Yerevan tramway began operating in Yerevan
1951: The UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide was implemented.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039885.html

get your free colonoscopy today

The National Center for Oncology has purchased the latest generation tools and will perform a free and enjoyable colonoscopy for residents over the age of 45, for the next 6 months.
The goal is to detect suspicious growths at an early stage. It's the third most common cancer among adults in the world. It has become more common in Armenia in the past decade. When detected early, it can be fully treated.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039911.html

COVID stats

+1885 tested. +355 infected. +729 healed. +5 deaths. 8393 active.
The death rate has been 1.8%. The infection reproduction rate was 0.84 in the past two weeks, down from 1.43.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039906.html , https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039943.html

COVID numbers have declined, so what do we do?

... we lift some of the restrictions!
"Aye, aye, Captain!"
"I can't hear you!"
"The rule that limits attendance to non-commercial gatherings to no more than 60 people has been removed. All other safety requirements remain in place," said a Healthcare official. "You can enter Armenia via air or land by presenting negative COVID test results that were taken within the past 3 days. If you don't, you will be tested at the airport and will need to self-isolate until the results arrive."
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039931.html

Armenia will soon import COVID vaccines

Healthcare Ministry: we are negotiating with multiple entities. The first batch of vaccines will arrive between late-January and mid-February. We are negotiating with producers whose vaccines have passed the necessary tests: Sputnik V, Pfizer, Moderna, and AstraZeneca. In the first phase, the vaccines will be given to the most vulnerable 10% of the population.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039921.html

Sputnik V vaccine has already been tested in Armenia

Healthcare Ministry: no complications were reported by the 15 patients, including Minister Torosyan. The often-discussed "skin redness" in the injection area has not been observed, either.
The first injection gave a 91.4% efficiency. The second increased it to 94%. Even if the vaccine doesn't fully prevent the infection, it can save the patient's life by making the case mild (is that right??).
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039925.html

the new COVID strain: good news, bad news

Doctor Davit Melik-Nubaryan: the version of COVID that mutated in the UK will eventually reach Armenia. Preliminary data shows that those who have already been infected and gained immunity from the original COVID will be immune to this new strain. It is believed that the immunity will last 6-12 months for the majority.
The good news is that the new strain isn't more deadly and doesn't result in heavier cases. The bad news is that it spreads a lot faster. The Healthcare system could be overloaded again.
The vaccines against the original strain will likely work against the new one. Pharmaceutical companies may have to modify the vaccines, but it will only take weeks.
Closing borders with the UK won't be helpful to prevent it. We may already have the new strain. We need to develop a new strategy from the ground up.
Viruses mutate all the time. It's part of the evolution. Sometimes they cause more severe symptoms, sometimes lesser. From the evolutionary and survival standpoint, viruses want to cause less severe symptoms for the host so they can have a chance to spread wider.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039856.html

Armenian scientists will study the COVID strain

CDC chief Bakunts: Armenia will have the ability to study the genetic mutations of the coronavirus. Active work is underway to invest in research resources. Meanwhile, we can submit a virus sample to a WHO laboratory to conduct a study for us.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039962.html

families with newborn children receive mortgage subsidy

450 families have so far taken advantage of a government subsidy program that helps with purchasing apartments. ֏526 million will be paid as part of this 2020-2023 program. It is part of a recent initiative to boost the birthrate.
Two other aid programs went into effect in mid-2020. Provincial families received a downpayment subsidy equalling 5% of the total price. Another one subsidizes insurance payments.
The same family can apply for all three programs, and there is no age limit for parents.
https://factor.am/327385.html

diaspora-government cooperation expands: iGorts

iGorts is a program that recently recruited 48 highly skilled diasporan Armenians to visit Armenia and work at 19 various government agencies. Three more volunteers have arrived today to begin their work: Shila Palyan from Canada, Zaven Ayvazyan from Russia, and Anahit Mikaelyan from Cyprus.
https://www.armtimes.com/hy/article/204211

Yerevan to install 32 more elevators in apartment complexes

Arabkir district is the next recipient. Hundreds of units were installed in 2020. They replace the decades-old elevators that have become dangerous and poopy. The new elevators come equipped with running water and flush so you can drain your crap /s.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039954.html

have you been buying stuff right and left lately?

...because trade turnover increased by +34%, and the number of printed receipts by +7%, during this year's New Year's holidays.
֏91 billion was spent between December 29-31, which is ֏23 billion more.
https://www.armtimes.com/hy/article/204195

would your majesty be pleased to take a salt bath?

Nerqin Getashen will have a halotherapy "salt bath" center to help alleviate certain conditions. It's the first in Gegharquniq province. There will also be rooms for aromatherapy (oils), ogyxenotherapy (oxygen cocktails), and massage.
The owner claims it helps boost immunity and alleviates breathing, allergy, and insomnia issues (take the claim with a bath of salt).
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039974.html

first Yezidi theater to open in Armenia

"шəp' y əBин" or "war and love" will be the first performance in a newly opened Yezidi theater in Ejmiatsin. It's part of a «Եզդիների կողքին» cultural initiative. The crew had planned a major performance about Yezidi national legend but the 44-day war began and some were drafted.
The crew ended up performing the "шəp' y əBин" during the war. It's about the importance of Yezidis in Armenia, and their love for the country. The January 17th performance will be dedicated to Yezidis who died fighting.
The performers aren't professional actors but they received acting training on-the-fly. "It seems to work because their enthusiasm is great. A very good team has been formed," said the producer.
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039941.html

Aram Khachaturian House-Museum will resume "Musical Thursdays"

This year's first classical concert is dedicated to Ruben Babayan, "the BFF of Armenian musicians."
https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1039916.html

Netherlands college will donate large quantities of school supplies

Several thousands of desks, chairs, furniture pieces, computers, lockers, etc. are being loaded in containers to be shipped to Armenia.
The Hermann Wesselink college is renovating its building with new items so they decided to donate the old stuff to Armenian kids. This will be enough to equip 15 provincial schools.
https://factor.am/327135.html

donations to Artsakh & recovering soldiers

www.1000plus.am (recovering soldiers & their families)
www.HimnaDram.org (for Artsakh & Armenia)
www.ArmeniaFund.org (U.S. tax-deductible)

archive of older posts

Armeniapedia's archive of my daily news threads:
http://www.armeniapedia.org/wiki/Daily_Anti-Corruption_Reports

disclaimer

All the accused are considered innocent unless proven guilty in the court of law, even if they "sound" or "appear" guilty.