Polo shirts are possibly the most ubiquitous clothing item of the 21st century, undergoing a long journey from aspirational 1930s sportswear to becoming the default smart-casual option for millions of men. We’ve researched and tested 14 of the best polo shirts and think that the best polo is the Sunspel Riviera with its great fit, unique fabric and strong range of over twenty colours. If you’re looking for an elevated take on the polo then the John Smedley Adrian Polo is incredibly soft and will smarten up your wardrobe. Finally, if you’re on a budget the H&M Cotton Polo Shirt is a good quality take on the classic item at an affordable price point.
The original garment as we know it was based on a design worn by French tennis star René Lacoste aka “the Crocodile” in the 1930s as a practical, flexible, comfortable sports shirt. Unfortunately, from the 1980s onwards, creeping “casual Friday” dress codes made the polo shirt with badly fitting chinos an American business-standard. Later, it was the uniform of golfers and delivery drivers, security guards, and coffee chain staff not to mention the sometime uniform of the American far-right, in almost a parody of conformity.
What saves the polo shirt from fashion irrelevance is its potential for reinvention. Its been reclaimed by subcultures ranging from punks to skinheads and mods. As the tie disappears and the suit becomes increasingly relaxed, the polo shirt has become a place to experiment with shirting alternatives and continues its long tradition of reinvention, molding itself to the zeitgeist. For our review we tried to cover this range, from semi-activewear to knit-fabric classics to find the best polo shirt overall, looking as always at specialists who’ve produced these styles year after year in an attempt to find an ideal.

Best overall

Sunspel Riviera Polo
With a smart fit, retro-inspired basket weave fabric, and a huge range of tasteful colours, the Riviera is on its way to becoming a contemporary classic.
$105

The Riveria was introduced by Sunspel in 2006 after a design by Linda Hemmings for the James Bond film Casino Royale. The Riviera became something of an instant classic for a brand which up until then had been known largely for its undergarments. The references here (as the name suggests) are much more Talented Mr.Ripley than contemporary sportswear but it doesn’t feel like a period piece either. There has been some clever thought put into taking the best of that golden era and updating it.
The fabric has a looser, wider weave than most piqué polos, and a nice spongy texture with none of the coarseness that some piqué can have. After researching I found that the brand created the fabric with a vintage lace making machine in Sunspel’s HQ in Nottingham, and none of the competition I tried have a similar quality.
The fit is trim but not overly slim. The sleeves fall flatteringly halfway down the bicep, the length is standard and it has the classic split tail. The sleeves didn’t pull up into my armpits and I still had movement through the body. The collar is a fairly small point collar that sits well when buttoned up but also folds down easily into a camp collar shape when undone which allowed it to be worn cleanly both ways. The buttons are a discreet tonal plastic and the placket is a simple 2‑button design. I’m a fan of the pocket design though in a practical sense it’s not good for much and makes the shirt much more of a casual style.
Colours are another area where Sunspel gets it just right. They always have a strong seasonal palette which this year covers 20 options including a deep chocolate brown (seen above) an intense Yves Klein blue and a great brick red. Compared to their competitor’s depressingly basic ranges of pastels and neons, this quiet tastefulness is refreshing and it means that season to season it will be easy to update your wardrobe with some new additions.
Through washing and wearing over a number of weeks, I noticed no noticeable shrinkage or discolouring and the fabric kept its softness (which wasn’t always the case, especially if a garment has been chemically softened). I also kept an eye out for loose threads and buttons but found no faults.
Which brings us to the final question of value. Polo shirts are an interesting category in this sense as they are so tied up to a certain idea of aspirational dressing — and priced accordingly. Our testing found that the general quality and feel of a £10 polo from H&M didn’t massively improve when compared to its £80 Lacoste equivalent. But that’s to ignore the fact that you are paying for what that £80 polo says about you, what it represents in our culture, and the semiotics of that logo — a francophile or a football causal, a preppy or a punk. That said, if you’re like me and the branded polos aren’t your niche but you want something that feels premium, then, for the cost, you will have a beautifully fabricated, European-made polo shirt of notably better quality than its competitors in the same price bracket and that’s enough for us to award it the top spot.

Downsides

The downsides for the Riviera really come down to preference. I could imagine if you want a more classic fitting polo you may find it too slim or if you want one without a pocket that could turn you off. But as for the construction of the shirt itself or its fabric I couldn’t find any faults. Even the plastic buttons which might in other brands seem like a cost-saving measure feels more like a thoughtful design choice. It’s also more sportswear-adjacent than actual sportswear, but that feels like a quibble and true of any of the major polo brands at this point.

Also good

John Smedley Adrian Polo
Made from incredibly soft sea island cotton, this knitted polo is perfect if you want a softer, more formal style of polo.
$298

The Adrian Polo from John Smedley comes a close second to the Sunspel Riviera. The main attraction is the sea island cotton fabric which is incredibly soft with the best hand feel of any polo I reviewed. The placket length and knitted collar means it feels much more like the elegant mid-century polo shirt than something that would be mistaken for a 21st-century corporate uniform, albeit with some nice updates that make it feel more contemporary than other knitted polos.
Smedley is to fine knitwear what Burberry is to trench coats, or John Lobb is to shoes and considered to be the best in the world in the category (it’s where the Queen gets her knitwear). The Adrian genuinely felt like a luxury. Everything from the feel of the fabric to the way it fitted just right with substantial ribbing on the waist and sleeves (near the bottom of the bicep) with just the right amount of tension spoke to the care and attention that had gone into making it. It’s also versatile, working just as well under the lapels of my suit when I got married a few weeks ago as it did in our 35 degree London heatwave when worn with a pair of shorts although, it is a bit too formal to work with tracksuit bottoms. Out of all the styles I reviewed it felt much more like a smart option.
What the Adrian definitely isn’t on the other hand is a piece of grab-and-go sportswear that can be washed and thrown on like a t‑shirt or folded up at the bottom of your bag for destination holiday. I found myself hand-washing the delicate fabric to avoid rips and the collar, though it stands well, needs shaping with an iron after washing. Like a lot of luxury items, it’s delicate and requires a bit more care and attention than most and at £145 it’s not quite affordable enough to be a staple. That’s not saying it’s bad value necessarily, you can see the care and attention that was put into it and it’s UK manufactured but it’s probably not what most people are looking for when it comes to an everyday polo shirt, and those not quite the all-rounder that could hold the top spot. If you’re more likely to wear smart trousers than jeans and prefer a knit jumper to a hoodie then this is the polo for you.

Budget pick

H&M Cotton Polo Shirt
A great price paired with good fabrication and quality, the H&M polo offers the best value for money with their straightforward take on the classic polo shirt.
$12.99

If you’re unconcerned with logos and just want a classic polo shirt as a wardrobe staple you could do a lot worse than the H&M Cotton Polo Shirt. The piqué is soft and drapes well, the fit is classic, and straight (though as is often the case with H&M group, a bit long for me). In a blind test, I’m not sure I could tell the difference easily between this polo and the Lacoste L.12 which it’s clearly based it’s detailing on. And at £9.99 it’s extremely good value. Ethical clothing site Good on You’s review gives the brand an “It’s a start” rating for it’s environmental and ethical credentials noting that it’s environmental record is consistently improving while some issues with it’s supply chain labor remain.

What to look for

Range of colours: More than most sportswear, polo shirts are about colour, and we wanted our staple pick to have a good range of quality seasonal colours.
Flexibility: We wanted a Polo that looked good with a range of clothing from the formal to the ultra-casual (a pair of shorts or sweats)
Fabric: Has to work well in the heat, for most people a polo is a summer item and anything too heavy or coarse wasn’t going to cut it for us, we tried a range of synthetics and cottons of different qualities.
Fit: Piqué and knitted cotton are unforgiving fabrics so having a good fit is key to making a polo shirt work.
Collar: Does it stand up well, does it look okay when unbuttoned? is it easy to fold down or does it look sloppy.
Length: Long enough to wear tucked in but not long enough to look sloppy on its own.
Sleeves: We wanted the sleeve length to flatter the bicep but not ride up too high into the armpits, we also wanted easy movement as you’d expect from sportswear.
Easy Care: The best polos, like all good sportswear, should be easy to wash and care for.
Aesthetics: We wanted a polo that was more than a billboard for logo’s or an anonymous boxy t‑shirt alternative, the best would have a strong aesthetic quality.

The competition

The Fred Perry M12 & M3's are the most solidly constructed of all the branded polos I tried, and I was particularly keen on the thick ribbing on the sleeves and collar and the wide, reinforced placket. The collar had a slightly wider spread than most and which I found more flattering. The fit is trimmer than Lacoste and the hem is square so overall it has a neater, less sporty look. It's also nice that it's been continuously made in the UK since its introduction in the 1950s. The M12's aesthetic with its twin tips on the collar and sleeves have deep roots in the mod, Britpop, punk and skinhead subcultures in the UK and it can be a bit overpowering if you're looking for something more casual, but I love the simplicity of the M3's laurel crest and it has the same fit. Our favourite if you're looking for a logo.
We ordered from Lacoste as they're the originators of the style. The Lacoste L.12.12 is their staple and comes in a huge range of colours. It's hard to judge it fairly as it seems to be the most duped of all polo styles—the Ralph Lauren polo is said to be a copy of their pre-60s model after the designer was disappointed with the synthetic blend polos they produced in the 70s. It has a straight fit, flattering sleeve and fairly flat collar. The fabric is softer than most piques and the split tail is nice but there is nothing particularly stand out, though the mother of pearl buttons are a nice touch. In terms of transparency, they were probably the most disappointing of the branded styles as there was absolutely no place of origin for manufacture, not even a "made in" on their label (though I believe they are produced in Peru).
The Lacoste Paris Polo Shirt is their more contemporary update to the classic style and it features a slightly smaller collar, a bit of elastane in the fabric (6%) and a longer, narrower hidden placket and tonal crocodile patch. It's an interesting update, but if you're going for something so subtle I'm not sure why you wouldn't go for something completely unbranded.
The Ralph Lauren Classic Fit Mesh Polo Shirt was an interesting variant. Its piqué was solid and soft feeling, It had a really thick placket and nice mother of pearl buttons, but it was largely indistinguishable from the Lacoste L.12 and its dupe status makes sense. It has a slightly lower stepped hem and a surpassingly slim fit for a "classic" style. It comes in a huge range of colours (some pretty dubious) and is the most expensive of the branded options we tried, coming in at £85. It's also shorter than most of the polos we tried so could be a good option for smaller guys.
Kent Wang is one of menswear's best-kept secrets and we're a big fan of the Kent Want polo shirt. It splits the difference nicely between the more casual sportswear elements and smarter styles like the Adrian with thick quality pique, mother of pearl buttons and a high spread collar designed to look good under a suit jacket or jumper. If you want something with the formality of the Smedley and the easy-care of a classic polo then this is probably your best option and it has some of the most tasteful colours of any brand we reviewed (as well as a wide range of long sleeve options). It should be noted that the fit is quite slim and it's worth sizing up.
The Uniqlo Airism Jersey Polo is sleek and technical without seeming dorky. It kept me from sticking to the sofa when the heat in London got to a high of 35°C (95°F). It would be the ideal choice for a warm-weather tech enthusiast and looked pretty cool and sleek worn with my black running shorts.
The other Uniqlo style I tried was the Uniqlo DRY PIQUE polo, which I was less of a fan of. It was fine but not particularly interesting fit wise and has a slightly coarse plastic-y feel to the fabric.
I tried ASKET's Pique Polo and while it has the brands great fit range (you can choose the length from small to large) was a disappointment overall. The piqué was soft and mercerized but also the most transparent of all the ones we tested which meant nipples showed through. The collar was strangely floppy and unstructured so looked messy when buttoned up but also had trouble sitting flat when opened and the placket looked visually off centre. As usual with the brand, the environmental and social tracing is excellent and I hope they can perfect the style.
Finally, I also gave the H&M COOLMAX Polo a try and while I might appreciate it if I lived in a much warmer country, the texture just suffered in comparison to the pure cotton pique of their standard polo.
This is a new guide from Typical Contents, the “wirecutter for clothes”. It’s by the team behind Epochs, a now defunct menswear blog.
*We’re reviewing categories of clothing in hopes of finding the best item(s) in that category. All items tested in this guide were purchased with our own money. This post does not contain affiliate links.
Check out our previous guides on boxer briefs, plain t-shirts, low top canvas trainers, and summer socks.

So in another post of mine I mentioned how I played a terrible game of dnd with my abridged team and I wanted to share one of the stories. The focus of this story will be called makoto (because that's who she voiced in the abridge) She went on an adventure with her girlfriend to a different plane meet a genie so she could get a wish spell to free my character who had a curse on him that prevent me from using my class at all. She did the genie's trials, had a little fight, and the genie freed me, but there was more. The genie loved makoto's performance so much he gave her his son so she could raise him in hopes that he could become powerful because he was weak in this his plane because the son didn't do much. Makoto and her girlfriend agreed to raise him and brought him home with them for the rest of the party to meet.
Some time later makoto and the genie child go to a casino where makoto let's the kid gamble, which seems harmless at first until one of them tells them you bet your life on these bets. Makoto knowing this still let the kid gamble and to the whole party's surprised the kid won and the person he was against pulled out a sword and gutted himself right in front of both of them. Now my memory can be wrong on this but I remember after that the kid kept wanting to gamble and makoto despite seeing a man die to this gambling let the kid gamble more. Luckily the kid kept winning and the kid got keys to a flying war ship and this is where shenanigans ensue.
The kid keeps telling makoto how he really wants to fly the ship and how since he won it he should be allowed to. Either I wasn't heard or I was ignored but I tried to tell makoto out of character it would be a bad idea to let him do it and I was right, because she let the kid fly it ALONE. I believe the ship had a base speed of 60 and how the dm described it, it was at max speed and the kid had no idea how to stop it or pilot it and he was on course to crash into a really tall building owned by the bbeg. My character with his class back teleported to him and laughed saying how this was a good thing to stick it to the bbeg and got the kid and teleported to safety. After that the ship crashed and basically did the same thing that happened to the twin towers, killing lost if people except the bbeg who we then fought.

…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

…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.
**** * ****

Teen Titans

In Illumination
Issue Eight: Who is Cassie Sandsmark?
Originally posted January 2018

Blüdhaven wasn’t good for much. An old whaling town, the dirty, industrial cityscape was later transformed by wealthy, criminal investors, building its industrial district into a neon paradise, a city-sized casino idyllic as long as you never looked beneath the surface.
And though the Teen Titans were almost always preoccupied with minimising the rampaging of emerging metahumans, they would often strive to tackle the crime that lurked in the shadows cast by the neon lights. One such criminal was André LeBlanc.
See, the smarmy and greasy Angel Marin, one of the ‘philanthropists’ so cherished in Blüdhaven had held an exhibition to show off the depths of his riches, including his star piece: the Night Diamond, a priceless gemstone. This naturally presented a challenge for the self-styled ‘world's greatest jewel thief’ LeBlanc.
He was a wanted man internationally due to his masterful skills and cutting edge tactics, but targeting the home of such a dangerous man as Angel Marin, LeBlanc was - even to his own admission - pushing his luck.
The thief darted silently down the crime lord’s corridor, his footfalls suppressed by his rebalancing boots and his hi-tech jumpsuit hiding him from thermal sensors despite its garish white colour. On his cracked face sat a green monocle, which LeBlanc used to scan for traps in real time. As he ran, LeBlanc gripped the azure jewel tightly, the diamond no bigger than a golf ball despite its exorbitant worth. The man’s agility and resolve was unmatched for someone of his age, but unfortunately his resistance came in the form of three meddlesome teenagers.
Angel Marin slept soundly in his bed, LeBlanc having eluded all of his security, but the Teen Titans had already seen the thief’s approach. Thanks to a recent upgrade to Cyborg’s tech, the teen was able to piece together a wealth of technological information sources to track LeBlanc all the way from his previous heist, and now they were moments from thwarting him.
LeBlanc pushed into the drawing room, the window he had entered through still cracked open. But as the man emerged through the open doorway, the oak door immediately pushed shut. The thief turned back towards the door, drawing a glowing, white knife to slash out at whoever had pushed the door to, only to find an empty place. Furiously, he pivoted back toward the window, now to find the shadowy figure of the blue-clad vigilante blocking his path. Nightwing. LeBlanc threw his arm out, slashing at the slender assailant, only for Nightwing to strafe aside with a boastful cartwheel. “No thanks!” Nightwing spat, springing off of the ground and throwing himself at the thief. Quickly, he struck with his twin sticks, aiming to disarm the thief as well as snatch the stone from him in one fell swoop, but André wouldn’t unhand his prize so easily.
The thief swung out once more, with Nightwing this time much closer. Before the vigilante could bounce back, he cried as the searing hot blade streaked across his chest, cutting through his black-and-blue armour as if it were butter, exposing his pale and bleeding flesh.
“Heh.”
Recoiling, the vigilante brought his hand across his chest, wiping the blood aside before clutching at his sticks once again. Nightwing leapt vertically and hooked his sticks around the industrial-looking chandelier above, using it to fling himself across the room to intercept the white-clad thief who continued his way to the open window. He landed and - stick still in hand - threw a fist out, striking LeBlanc cleanly in the nose.
The thief staggered, dazed. He would have just shot the kid if he had even brought a gun, though in his line of work a firearm was such a clumsy weapon. Narrowing his gaze on the dark figure he faced, LeBlanc focused himself. How strong could one kid be? Arrogant as ever, he then threw his knife aside and slipped the Night Diamond into his white satchel. He brought up his fists, ready to exchange blows.
The two men clashed, and quickly LeBlanc began to impress Nightwing as he dealt fast and powerful strikes. As they traded attacks, blocking and leaping up and down, they almost seemed to dance with each other, with LeBlanc using his streamlined gauntlets to deflect strikes from Nightwing’s escrima sticks. But LeBlanc caught Nightwing off-guard when he delivered a spinning kick to the vigilante’s head, flooring him with a manoeuvre Nightwing never would have expected from a man approaching forty. Though as LeBlanc turned away with a sneer, seemingly having bested the Gotham crimefighter, he turned to find himself face-to-face with none other than a towering, green gorilla. With a single punch, he was out.
“You know, I don’t know why you didn’t just let me just punch him sooner,” Gar grinned, morphing back to human form. As he rose from the ground, Dick produced a pair of black boxer shorts from his belt compartment, unfurling them and throwing them the way of the nude, green child as if it were a regular occurrence (which, by this point, it was).
“That’ll be because we’re sitting in the house of a dangerous gangster,” Dick smiled coolly, his hand pouring over his throbbing head, “Ever heard of ‘lowkey’?”
“Ah, you got me there!” Gar exclaimed, slightly quieter this time, “I’m many things but lowkey isn’t one of them.”
“Nice work though,” Dick replied, before activating his communicator, “Cyborg: you still on overwatch?”
Beat.
“Cyborg?”
Vic spluttered, suddenly bursting in over comms, “Yeah. Of course, sorry just got distracted by… things...”
“Finlay,” Dick continued, “Of course. I’m sorry. Look, head back to the roof of Iris Cove Casino, and we’ll regroup with you there.”
“Got it.”
Since Dick had discovered that it was an associate of Vic’s father, Jacob Finlay, who was responsible for stealing the Cyborg blueprints, as well as springing the metahumans that almost killed Vic, he had wanted nothing less than see the crooked physicist see what was coming to him. But what he couldn’t have expected was for the doctor to turn up dead - his neck wrenched - in Gotham River. It was a tragedy, and not at all what the man deserved.
The Teen Titans had attempted to follow up on the death, but had found nothing. That was until Dick received a clandestine call from Silas Stone.

♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦

The fifteen-year-old Cassandra Sandsmark emerged from the Music Box Theatre wide-eyed, her mind blown. Growing up in Buckinghamshire, England, Cassie had always dreamed of seeing a Broadway show, and it was every bit as amazing as she had expected it to be.
Her mother was an archaeologist, and therefore was often away for long periods of time, and when Cassie wasn’t couped up at her boarding school, her grandparents were too old and untrusting - despite their riches - to fly her out to New York. And though Cassie had finally gotten her wish, it was through the most distressing of circumstances. Now, though Cassie was raised by a strictly Christian family, she always found difficulty in believing in a God for one reason or another, so imagine her surprise when she was visited by the image of what appeared to be an angel, imploring her to flee to New York City, of all places, that she was being hunted and would only be safe within the bounds of that city so far across the pond. No answers, only urgency.
And so, the Fear of God firmly instilled in her, the fifteen-year-old stole as much money as she could from her grandfather’s bank account and grabbed the first plane ticket to the United States.
Though Cassie honestly didn't know what to expect. Upon arriving in the ‘greatest city in the world’ she had heard nothing from the otherworldly figure that had addressed her before, and she quickly began to realise that she couldn't occupy herself in her hotel room for very long. And hence, she decided to indulge herself in an overpriced visit to Broadway, and it was worth every penny to the young girl.
But now Cassie was lost once again. Cars hurtled past her along the wide road, as monolithic buildings stretched high into the jet black sky. There wasn't a moment of silence, the city filled with a cacophony of noise, even at this hour. Quickly, she pushed over to the nearest taxi, pulling her red hoodie up tight over her slender shoulders to keep out the quickly emerging chill. As the driver rolled his window down, Cassie doubled over, peering through the window to address him.
“Hello? Do you go to the White Ram Hotel?” she chirped in a polite tone.
“Do I!?” the driver exclaimed. He was a middle aged man with olive skin and a sleazy black tracksuit. “This ain't the subway. I’ll take you anywhere you want, hot stuff!”
“Excuse me?!” Cassie cried, pulling herself up. Sure, she was more developed than other girls in her year at school, but she was only fifteen. Surely he could see that! Right?
“I love me a British accent,” the driver sneered, “Say somethin’ sexy and I’ll give you half fare!”
Cassie was flustered and infuriated. Slamming her foot down on the pavement, she pushed away. “I’ll think I’ll walk, thank you very much!!”
And so Cassie took off down the street, walking against the flow of heavy traffic, the sounds of the city growing more fierce. Quickly, the black of the night seemed to slowly seep in around her, the darkness consuming her, but Cassie kept plodding on towards the White Ram.
As Cassie walked, a enigmatic presence lurked in the distance, watching her; stalking her from the shadows. There was a quality to Cassie, something powerful that just made her unignorable, something that called to the presence in the dark.
Unbeknown to this, Cassie continued on, eventually coming to pass the exterior of an old Irish pub that stretched along the street. Nervously, Cassie pulled up the hood of her red hoodie and picked up her pace, the footfalls of her black Chucks growing heavier against the concrete sidewalk. Something she’d call the pavement.
Though Cassie wouldn’t get off so easy as from the pub, right as she passed its doors, emerged three men of varying levels of intoxication, all swaying with the breeze. They each looked around thirty and each similarly struggled to keep their balance as they poured out onto the street. Quickly, one caught a glimpse of the young girl attempting to hurriedly make away, catching the side of her face as she walked past. “Hey!” He blurted out, steadying his lacking weight on his friend’s shoulder, bottle in hand. “You’re very pretty!! You should be… v… very proud.”
She ignored him and continued down the street, still a while off the next corner.
“Hey–” he repeated before bursting into a cry, “I SAID HEY!!”
Cassie jolted, glancing over her shoulder for just half second, enough time for a few of the boys to catch her eye. She turned away and continued on.
“HEY!!” Another man called after Cassie, this time annoyed, “He’s talking to you!!”
“Fucking bitch…” the first man mumbled to himself.
“No!” the third man called out, pulling the first man forward and snapping him out of his sulk, “N– No she doesn’t get to ignore you like that!!”
The third took off in a sprint after Cassie, continuing to define call out, “My friend wants to talk to you!!”
The first and second men looked to each other, too drunk to roll their eyes, and began to stumble after their leading friend. Cassie looked over her shoulder once more to see the three men clambering towards her. But before she could run, the man threw himself in the way of her path.
“No need to be rude…” he grumbled, his friends then catching up behind.
None of the men were cruel, but all were plenty menacing as they surrounded the 15-year-old girl, who stood alone and afraid in a city mostly unknown to her.
“Get out of my way…” Cassie seethed, her breath unsteady as she pretended to be as tough as she could muster.
“Ah! British!” exclaimed the youngest of the men, the one who had first noticed Cassie, “I like British!”
He placed a hand forcefully on Cassie’s shoulder as she faced away from him, and pulled her around to face him. “C’mere.” Instinctually, Cassie reacted, flinging herself back, and crashed into the chest of the man who had first pursued her.
“We ain’t gonna hurt ya!” the crushing man cried, only for Cassie to react by delivering a swift kick to the man’s groin. He fell quickly, groaning in pain.
“What the fuck, lady!?”
The man behind her jostled Cassie’s shoulder, threatened and enraged. Taking no shit, Cassie turned socked the man in the jaw, causing him to stagger back.
“Stay away from me!!” she cried before punching him once again, unaware of the third man behind her as he drew a knife.
But as the man threw himself forward to slash out at the increasingly violent young girl, out of nowhere flew a glowing gold chain that seemed to magically wrap itself around the wrist of the man’s knife hand. And with one quick tug, the man went flying several feet. Though as Cassie turned to see just what had occurred behind her, she saw not the floor assailant, but a woman, tall and draped in black, her skin lightly tanned and her hair as dark as her plated armour. “You need to come with me.”

♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦

The next morning, Dick Grayson pushed hurriedly through the S.T.A.R. Labs security checkpoint, already a registered visitor at this point. He didn’t know the cause of Silas summoning him, but he had guessed from the police cars lined up on the street outside that the scientist likely had information regarding Finlay’s death.
And as Dick entered the central lab, he was implicitly proved correct as he found Silas seated, the figure of a tall, muscular man in a beige coat and a black-banded, white cowboy hat. Immediately, Dick recognised the lone policeman as NYC Sheriff Saunders. It was rare that the man ever came out to investigate first hand since his election, and he and Dick had never crossed paths, especially while the latter was Nightwing.
“And… Dr Finlay: any reason to believe he had any enemies?” the Sheriff spoke in a gruff, deep tone, befitting of his fearsome silhouette and his fifty years of smoking. The man was no nonsense.
Silas took a second. A part of him wanted to pretend the man was a saint, but the truth was that he was far from it. Similarly Silas knew that what he had to said could incriminate himself, but was already worn down by the death of his coworker and his son shunning him for a second time. He had no time for lies.
“It was... I strongly suspect it was Finlay who allowed the meta thief - Selinda Flinders - to break into the lab. There, she not only freed her brother but also stole my blueprints for the cybernetics I used to treat my son from a safe that only myself and Finlay knew even existed.”
The Sheriff took a deep breath, still unaware of Dick standing in the doorway behind him. Carefully, he jotted down some notes in his small paper pad. “And what would Dr Finlay have wanted those… blueprints for? Industrial espionage?”
“No,” Silas sighed, “He wanted them so that he could save his brother the way I saved Victor, despite all my protests that the technology wasn’t ready.”
“His brother: This is Arthur Finlay, correct? Paralysed after a burglar attacked him in 2006.”
“That is correct.”
Saunders paused and took another long, deep breath, before launching into hurried speech. “Now it’s funny you should mention that as Arthur Finlay was nowhere to be found when we visited his estate earlier this week. Odd for a man who can't wipe his own ass.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s entirely possible that Dr Finlay– that Jacob succeeded in ‘fixing’ his brother.”
Beat.
The Sheriff smiled. “But that’s for me to chase up. Sorry, I shouldn’t have divulged that with you, - it’s as of current - entirely unfounded.”
“It’s fine.” Silas smiled tiredly, “We can all speculate. Now, if you don’t mind, I have another visitor.” Silas gestured graciously towards the door, where Dick Grayson was standing.
Sheriff Saunders looked across and his face immediately dropped, realising his mistake. “Ah, I see. Well, I won’t keep you then. Thank you for your insight, Dr Stone. We’ll be in touch.”
Quickly, the Sheriff wrapped up his notepad and made his way over to the door. As he exited, he tipped his hat towards the young spectator. “Nice to meet you, young man.”
And he was gone.
Silas stood, meeting Dick in the centre of the lab. “You know, I thought he’d never leave.”
“Was that it, Dr Stone?” Dick asked, perturbed, “You think Jacob’s brother killed him?”
Silas sighed. “That seems to be the leading theory, but no, that’s not why I called you.”
“Then what–”
“Christmas has come and passed, and this is the first year I’ve spent it without my Victor since he was born, the first year since my Elinore…”
Silas blinked.
“I wanted to give you a package. A gift. To give to Victor. A belated Christmas present.”
“He’s still not talking to you?”
Silas crawled along to his desk where, from a lower drawer, he produced a small purple box tied with a red bow, no bigger than a ring box. He held it out to Dick, his eyes so tired.
“Just please make sure Victor opens it,” he replied, “Won’t you do that for me, Richard?”

♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦

Silently, a robed figure approached the derelict apartment block in Avalon, Blüdhaven. This was the only known address for the Teen Titan known as Cyborg, but clearly circumstances had forced him to move on. The figure sighed, shaking her head before moving on.

♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦

“It was like my nan always said: that someday I’d feel something, and all that crap about burning bushes and… the big man in the sky would just slip into place.”
As Cassie spoke in the relative warmth of the drab, grey squat, her words were lost on Donna, who - despite having developed more than adequate conversation skills - had no idea what the young girl was talking about after she had asked her why she had come to New York City.
Cassie grinned, sat on the only chair in the apartment, as she registered her saviour’s bemusement. “I had a vision. It sounds crazy I know, but some angel came down and told me that… I was being hunted… and that I’d only be safe if I came to New York.” Her eyes were wild, as if she were reliving those impossible moments as she told the tale, “She told me some monster wanted to kill me, that it was the plan of the Gods that I remained safe. Truth is, I struggled believing in one God, never mind plural!”
Donna was beginning to understand, but remained bemused as she looked up from the floor to the girl she had found herself driven to protect. The idea that anyone could believe in just one God perplexed her. Surely there would be too many responsibilities for just one God to handle.
Shaking off her confusion, Donna stood up from the floor and made her way to the open window. Behind her, Cassie sat by the breakfast bar, wrapped in a shawl Donna had found in the bedroom. Donna needed to understand the connection she shared with this girl. They had to be connected somehow, or else what would explain the otherworldly, gut-wrenching pull towards her that Donna had experienced as soon as Cassie had stepped within a thousand mile radius.
Who was Cassie Sandsmark? That’s what Donna kept asking herself. What did Cassie mean to her? Though Donna supposed that to answer that question, she’d have to figure out just who she was herself.
Cassie sat up quickly, shrugging off her trepidation for the thrill of the adventure. “So is that it then?” she asked. Donna moved away from the glass to face her. “Are you my guardian angel? The person the vision said would protect me?” “I…?” Donna honestly didn’t know.
“Come to think of it: why are you wearing battle armour?” Cassie’s eyes were wide as she looked upon her fearsome protector, stood against the New York City skyline through the thin glass, “Are you - like - one of those Amazons? Like Wonder Woman?”
“NO.” Donna spat, suddenly recoiling. Immediately, she realised her mistake as she watched Cassie flinch back. Calmly, she elaborated. “No. I’m nothing like… I’m not Wonder Woman…”
“Oh.”
“But I think I am supposed to keep you safe… from whatever monster is trying to harm you.”

♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦

Vic fumbled with his keys, half distracted by his conversation with Gar as he stood in the hallway of his new apartment block on Payton Street, attempting to unlock the door. He’d gotten into his new place over Christmas, his last home desolated when Shimmer and Mammoth attacked him at his home.
“So the guy goes through all the trouble of hiring these supervillains to steal your… thing and then just mysteriously ends up dead?” Gar jested, his voice animated and non-serious.
Finally, Vic turned the key and the two entered into his new apartment. The place was much more spacious than Vic’s previous place, with a more open-planned layout which Gar definitely considered an upgrade. Though a winter chill emanated through the place, visually it was quite warm, the Christmas decorations still up and on full display almost a month later.
“The guy was my dad’s friend, Gar.” Vic replied, irritated. “If he weren’t such a jackass, he’d be like my uncle, so please take this seriously.”
Vic pushed forward, pulling off his thick, grey hoodie and laying it across the arm of his couch along with his keys.
“Dude, he tried to kill you!” exclaimed Gar, “That doesn’t exactly scream close family friend.”
“A man is dead!” Vic snapped, his tone now deadly serious, something entirely unheard by Gar until now from his usually somber but amicable friend, “Get a grip.”
Gar lingered in the doorway. He took a deep breath. Vic was right. “I– I’m sorry, man. I guess that’s just how I cope with... things. He was your friend, I get it.” He stepped forward, slowly pushing the door shut behind him.
Jacob Finlay wasn’t a friend of Victor’s. In fact, Vic could never stand the man. But it saddened Vic deeply to know that he was gone, even after all the hurt he had caused him.
Slowly, Vic made his way over to the fridge, feeling his stomach yearn for a snack. He opened the metallic white door and looked upon its contents with disappointment. He sighed.
“I know we just got in, but do you fancy heading back out for food?” Gar suggested earnestly, “I know a diner that’s cool with people like us in downtown Blüd.”
’People like us’. Vic was used to that meaning something else, but he supposed he did have that in common with his plucky, if not crass, young friend. They were both outcasts due to their appearance. Vic was half-metal, Gar was green. On the rare occasions Vic had left the house as himself (rather than the superhero Cyborg) he made sure to never stay too long in one place, as to avoid anyone noticing his horrific visage under his shadowy hood.
“How do you mean?”
“This old couple owns the place,” Gar explained, “Man’s blind and the lady’s… well, actually open-minded and reasonable.”
Vic froze, actually considering the proposal. It’d been a long time since he’d sat down in a restaurant - however fancy - and eaten out. He looked to the empty, open fridge and then back to his discarded hoodie. His eyes flashed.
“Sure,” he smiled, “You wanna grab your coat this time? You’ve been complaining about the cold all day!”
Gar grinned back at Vic, deeply pleased by his response. “Yeah, one sec!” He ran, bounding across the floor and over to the hat stand Vic rarely seemed to use. From there, Gar pulled down his orange-red Parka and pulled it on in one fluid motion. As he did, Vic made his way to the couch and slipped back into his hoodie, zipping it up slowly.
The two smiled at each other and Vic - now stood closer to the door - pushed forward, wrapping his metal grip around the door handle and pulled it down. As he swung the door open, there stood a startled Dick Grayson, moments from ringing the doorbell"
“Woah!” Dick jumped.
“Dick!” Gar exclaimed, “We’re heading out to eat, you coming?”
“You?” Dick replied, pleasantly surprised to see Vic trying something new. “Uh, yeah… sure!”
From the pocket of his black pea coat, Dick produced the purple box he’d been handed earlier, nervously fidgeting with it between his hands slightly as he glanced up and down from it to Vic. “Though, uh… I actually came to give you this, Vic.”
Dick held the box out. Vic looked open-eyed to Gar and then back to him. “Dick, you already got me a Christmas present,” he laughed, walking over and taking the purple-wrapped present, eyeing it curiously.
“No, it’s… it’s from your dad. Cos you missed Christmas.”
Beat.
Vic looked back up to Dick. “Dick, I missed Christmas cos I can’t stand the man. He made me into this… thing, and it was his lies that almost got me killed.” Without even looking, Vic tossed the box over his shoulder, it hitting the ceiling and ricocheting before landing between the couch and the television.
“Vic…” Gar moaned disappointedly.
“What?!” Vic cried, “He’s human garbage. Has that brilliant mind and uses it to constantly fuck with my life. I don't need him. He’d be better off dead.”
Dick and Gar both looked at him in stunned silence. Dick’s eyes flitted back and forth and his moved out of the doorway and into the apartment. He looked to Gar, an orphan like himself, and then to Vic. He nodded. “How about we go get that dinner?”
Vic took a breath, calming himself. He nodded reluctantly, his confidence shaken but determined not to let his dad ruin his victory. “Right, yeah. Sure!” he affirmed himself. “I– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
“It’s fine.” Dick smiled, turning to face the open doorway, “Let’s just g–”
Just as Dick had moved, replacing him in the doorway was a tall, hooded figure: one none of the teens had met before yet one that all three recognised.
“Holy fuck!” Gar exclaimed, “It’s Wonder Woman!”

♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦

“I was speaking with my former teacher Athena after I sla–” “Wait, Athena?” Gar interrupted, starstruck, as if he were taking notes, “As in Popped Out of Zeus’ Forehead Athena?” Diana nodded solemnly. The Amazon sat on a kitchen chair, comfortably at a level to explain herself to the three young men, who each stood.
“Athena revealed to me a child of both Ares and Circe roamed the man’s world, that… an adversary of mine sought to hurt the child, for the misdoings Circe had committed against her.”
Diana told the tale, her eyes hollow as she seemed to hold back some inconvenient truths, something Dick picked up on easily, “I was told that I would find the child in New York City, and knew that Batman had established a strike team nearby. So here I am, hoping you can lend me your assistance.”
Dick sighed, running his hand through the front tuft of his dark hair. He’d never met the Amazon warrior before, but knew that she and Bruce were friendly, with Diana being part of his ‘Justice League’ initiative. But Dick was disappointed to hear how the Teen Titans were perceived by the older heroes. “Batman had nothing to do with it. I formed this team, uh… we formed this team. Together.”
Diana smiled. “Of course.”
“So that’s all you know?” Vic replied, addressing the matter at hand, “Some kid is in danger in New York City. No idea whereabouts?”
“That was where I was hoping that you could help me,” said Diana, addressing Vic directly.
Vic smiled softly to have garnered any sort of attention from somebody as powerful and well… beautiful as Wonder Woman. “Well I suppose we could tr–”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with that other Wonder Chick running about New York? Does it?” Gar interjected, perhaps a bit louder than he had intended.
Diana cocked her head, moving her vision away from Vic and towards Gar, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“This amazing, gorgeous warrior. Long, flowing black hair. This awesome armour, all jet black and mysterious. She looked a lot like you actually.”
Diana’s eyes darted open as she bolted to her feet. Could it be? The doppelganger she had faced in the Trials, who had fought with her own skill and ferocity.* Had Ares sent her here? It was more than possible that she was an emissary of Ares, posthumously working to secure Ares’ progeny.
It was as Athena had said to Diana: death was the only way to transfer the mantle of God of War.*
“Gods…” she groaned, “I’ve fought her before. She is far more dangerous than the woman I seek to stop. If she gets her hands on Ares’ daughter, the consequences could be dire. We need to find them both and pray that she hasn’t already found her.”
Dick stepped forward. “I’ve been trying to locate this black-armoured Amazon since Gar ran into her a couple months back. She’s been being very discrete. I’ve tried everything.”
Vic stepped forward. “I haven’t.”

♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦

“Don’t you have any games? Or a telly or something?” Cassie sighed, stood peering out of the frosted window onto the New York skyline.
“Telly?” Donna asked, standing a few feet behind Cassie, surrounded by a whole load of nothing. “I’m afraid not. This place doesn’t have much outside of shelter, and sometimes warmth.”
“Then what do you do for fun?” Cassie had been cooped up in Donna’s squat for some time now and was beginning to grow restless. Despite the drab decor, the place was an improvement on sitting alone in her hotel room, but the boredom was killing her.
“I’ve found the city to be the best source of entertainment,” Donna explained very matter-of-factly, “Although I think it might be best for us to stay put until we know you are safe.”
“And when is that? When the thing hunting me gets bored? When I get a follow up message from the angel?”
“I don’t think that was an angel.”
“That isn’t the point!” Cassie groaned, frustrated. “I just wanna have some fun!”
Donna stopped. She thought for a moment and then nodded. “Alright.”
Donna couldn’t recall much of her past, but did remember one thing that she had always enjoyed: combat. She didn’t remember all the details, but Donna used to love sparring as a child, with Diana, the monster that now plagued her nightmares. It was always so exciting, and it really seemed to develop an interpersonal closeness between the combatants. She smiled before removing her silver gauntlets slowly.
“Here.”
“What?” Cassie asked.
“Take them.” Donna held the gauntlets out for Cassie, one in each hand. Carefully, the younger girl took them and slipped her wrists into them.
“They’re too big.”
Donna grinned as the gauntlets seemed to magically adjust, twisting and forming into a perfect fit around Cassie’s forearms. Donna then flicked her own wrist forward, causing a cloud of black smoke to erupt from the palm of her hand. Cassie recoiled, watching the black smoke move and stretch before giving way to the form of a solid, golden sword. Donna gripped the blade tightly and pointed it forward.
“Wait, what?”
“We shall fight?”
“Fight?!”
“Well, you won’t have a weapon, so it’s more like exchanging blows. I’ve found it quite enjoyable.”
“Right…” Cassie replied, reluctant, “So what’s gonna happen?”
“I will make an attack with my blade, and you shall bring up your gauntlets to intercept. You’ll find them more than capable of deflecting my attacks.”
“Like…?” Cassie practiced thrusting her arms back and forward, flashing the silver gauntlets as she moved.
“Exactly! We’ll start slow.”
And they did. Beat-by-beat, Donna would move the sword towards Cassie, giving her plenty of time to bring up her gauntlets to clink against the blade. One strike. Two strikes. Three strikes. Four. Gradually, Donna increased her speed, and with her Cassie would begin to move with increasing ease and agility. She was a natural.
As they grew more and more rapid, their movements also increased in intensity. Before they knew it, both began to shift their footing until they were dancing back and forth around the room, sparks flying each time Donna’s blade crashed against Cassie’s forearms. First, Cassie began to cackle with laughter, then allowing Donna to join with a more conservative chuckle. But all this ceased with a knock at the door.
They stopped. Cassie glanced over to the door first, then Donna. They weren’t expecting visitors. Donna flourished the blade in her hand, furrowing her brow and narrowing her gaze, ready to attack whatever came through.
And just as expected, the door came crashing, the wood obliterated into splinters. Through it leapt a fearsome warrior clad in red and gold, a beast of a woman, a terrifying figure. The demon Diana.
Nightwing had tried to knock, but the Amazon warrior wasn’t willing to wait. Bursting into the room, Diana charged at Ares’ puppet, seeing her with her blade drawn, the young Cassie Sandsmark terrified beside her.
Donna slashed out as Diana came crashing down on her, unarmed yet incredibly dangerous, but the strike was fruitless as Diana evaded with ease, delivering a mighty punch to the centre of Donna’s chest. Diana of Themyscira didn’t need a weapon.
Donna stumbled, kicking over a small coffee table as Cassie scrambled out of the way. The demon moved incredibly quickly, far faster than Donna could comfortably comprehend. She hadn’t been this fast when they’d fought before. First, another punch to the chest, then grabbing Donna by the arm - catching her sword strike - to pull her close, only to pound her back into the ground.
As Donna hit the ground, she skidded, whipping back around onto her feet, beaten but ready to persist. “Your master is dead,” Diana seethed, “And you shall fall with the rest of his forces!”
As the two warriors clashed, Cassie scurried away, ducking and running for the door. However, she found herself blocked by the bodies of three young men: one some kind of robot man, one green and the other clad in blue and black spandex. “Ack!”
“We’re not gonna hurt you!” Cyborg panicked, holding his large, cold hands up.
“Like shit you don’t!” Cassie spat, her teeth clenched, pivoting back around to watch her friend fight off the red-and-gold blur of a woman. Wait... That was Wonder Woman!
Donna grumbled, moving her sword arm back and shifting her off-hand forward. She then allowed her bronze shield to materialise magically in her grip with a flash of amber light. “I see you have new toys.” Diana smirked, her gaze as steely as her black-clad doppelganger.
She was right. Donna recalled easily that in their last encounter, the one that haunted her, she fought Diana unarmed. Now, Donna couldn’t recall how she came to wield the magic required to summon her weapons, but she was more than happy to use them if it meant having an edge over the tyrant that had previously terrorised her.
Donna didn’t reply. Instead, she threw herself forward, shifting her weight rapidly across the wooden floorboards, heaving the mass of her shield against Diana enough to stagger her, giving her an opening to strike with her blade. Diana cried out and kicked, colliding her leg into her adversary’s shield and dragging her strike to the right.
Donna saw through this trick immediately, it was an attempt to disarm; to wrench the shield right from her hand. It wouldn’t work. Not if Donna kept as best a grip as she could. However, Donna had underestimated the strength of her foe, and subsequently found herself launched across the room along with the shield, leaving her sword by her feet, crashing down on a pile of wood in the corner of the shabby apartment.
She attempted to pull herself up, but couldn’t, her armour too heavy on top of the weight of her aching bones. Diana persisted however. Breathing heavily, she pulled herself over to her floored quarry, scooping her foe’s blade off of the ground as she moved. Finally, she stopped. Planting her crimson boots into the wooden floor, Diana loomed over Donna, a relentless, fearsome monster.
Diana looked upon her quarry, this supposed emissary of Ares, deliberating over her fate. Perhaps she had overestimated her, for the puppet Diana had fought during the Trials fought with such ferocity and intensity that she now found entirely lacking. It was as if she was another soul inhabiting the body of that abomination.
But that moment of hesitation on Diana’s part was exactly what Donna need to act. In one fluid motion, Donna burst from her pile on the floor with new mobility. After delivering a kick to the monster’s head, Donna swung her empty hand out in a wide arc. Instantly, the sword vanished from Diana’s grip, reappearing in Donna’s own with a black flicker.
As Diana staggered, Donna let loose with slash after slash before finally winding up for an overhead attack, a killing blow. However–
“STOP!!”
A shock wave exploded through the room, launching its contents as well as the two combatants. Donna hit the ground and skidded once more. Bloodied, she looked up to see Cassie between her and Diana, her silver gauntlets glowing white hot, her face mortified.
“She doesn’t want to hurt you!” she screamed to Donna before turning to look upon Diana, scraping herself off of the floor, “You don’t want to hurt each other.”
Donna stood up uneasily, her eyes still wild, waiting for Diana to attack once again.
“I…” Diana mumbled, gripping her bloodied arm.
“You’re Wonder Woman. You save people.” Cassie explained, her voice compassionate yet quivering, “And I don’t need saving. Not from Donna. She’s my friend.”
Diana painted, finally looking upon her adversary with new eyes, “... Donna?”
Donna’s eyes flickered, filled with doubt. She looked to Cassie, then finally to Diana, and instead of a demon, saw an injured woman. She lowered her sword.
Diana saw this and recalled her parting words to the black-clad warrior, when Diana had pummeled her into the bloody waters during the Trials. 'Barely real and always a copy. What kind of emptiness must exist inside you?'
But when she focused on Donna’s eyes, those that so closely resembled her own, she saw not the rage she had seen during the Trials, but fear. Pure fear. There, she remembered.
“Great Hera, what have I done…” Diana groaned, looking upon her friend with a long forgotten familiarity. “Donna…”
But the moment wouldn’t last, for Gar was moments too late to cry out, warning them as a fearsome feline figure crashed through the window, emerging from the urban jungle of New York City’s skyline. There, the animal moved immediately for Diana, launching into an all out assault, no longer Dr Barbara Minerva, but The Cheetah.

Continued in Wonder Woman #21

Making good on this post.
Disclaimer: I have never seen anything related to this Alvin and the Chipmunks series, and am coming into the third entry blind. Any misunderstanding due to this is entirely my fault for not keeping up with the deep interconnected mythology of the AatC universe.
SPOILERS: I have to prove I watched this damned thing, so you're getting all the details.
This movie is not awful. I was expecting far worse, honestly. If you've ever watched cartoons aimed at 3-5 year olds you can probably tolerate this(though I highly recommend actually having a 3-5 year old around since you can start playing with them to distract you from the movie). The shtick of this series, apparently, is that Alvin and his brothers Simon and Theodore are famous singers in a pop group(and get this: They're Chipmunks!); they get into wacky misadventures while high screeching covers of pop songs play in the background. I expect if you actually like any of the songs covered this will shift from annoying to insulting, but being largely ignorant of pop music circa 2010, it remained merely annoying for me. They are joined by 'The Chipettes' a gender-bent complement to AatC who have their own band, and all of them are stewarded by their ownemanagedad Dave.
The movie begins on a cruise ship bouncing from one micro set-piece to another. While it's filled with 'musical' numbers, they come rapid fire and never seem to stick with anything beyond a quick 'remember this?' reference. I would not be surprised if they kept the songs short because they were able to avoid paying licence fees for the songs by using less than thirty second samples. After getting into some trouble with the captain, the Chipmunks are admonished by Dave, but they convince him to give them another chance; while Dave has dinner with the captain to smooth things over, the Chipmunks get up to some wacky shenanigans.
The Chipmunks all exhibit their trade-mark personalities here as, astonishingly, they have to set up some character development later. Alvin here is the selfish(and annoying) one, Simon is the smart(and annoying) one, Theodore is the dumb(and fat, and annoying) one. The girl chipmunks get less attention individually but I get the impression their personalities directly mirror their male counterparts. Alvin charges off to party in the ship's casino, with Simon chasing after him to bring him back to their room, the Chipettes get into a... dance off(shudder)... with some twenty-somethings, and Dave eventually comes to round them up.
We are also introduced here to Ian, the chipmunks' former ownemanager(but not dad), now working as a pelican mascot on the cruise ship. We're led to understand that he was a dick and cruelly kept his sentient chipmunks in cages, therefore it's funny that he's fallen on hard times. Also fallen on hard times: David Cross, who plays Ian, is reduced from the highs of blueing himself on Arrested Development to playing a minor character in a movie about singing rodents.
The chipmunks are punished for their escapades by being restricted to shuffle-board as their only activity for the rest of their trip with Dave watching closely to keep them out of trouble. No sooner does Dave take a nap than the Chipmunks barter a kite from a fat kid to go parasailing, and shock and surprise they go flying off away from the ship, eventually landing on an island. Dave realizes they've gone missing and take a... hang glider?... off the ship to go after them; ~~David Cross~~ Ian tries to stop him, but the two end up crashing into the water.
The humans eventually wash up on the same Island, where they surely meet up with the chipmunks and everyone learns a valuable lesson. My that ninety minutes flew by...
OH GOOD LORD, WE'RE ONLY TWENTY MINUTES IN! The viewer is advised that panic attacks are normal, and to avoid hyperventilation by breathing through the nose, or into a paper bag.
Ahem. On the island the Chipmunks attempt to survive, creating a SOS sign in the sand, starting a fire, fighting over the only morsel of food, all while grappling with the fear that they may never be found and worse, the existential dread that they may have annoyed Dave so much that he won't even bother to come looking for them. And singing annoying songs, and exhibiting rote character traits and generally making you wish you were doing anything else with your time. Meanwhile Dave and ~~David Cross~~Ian wash up on some other part of the island, where they will meander through the second act of the film with G-rated sniping at each-other.
The chipmunks run into Zoe, another castaway, played by Jenny Slate(I had a Washed Up Actor joke cued up, but it turns out this came before anything else I'd seen her in). Some very boring jokes follow, but importantly we have a major plot point: Simon, the smart, responsible chipmunk, is bitten by a spider whose venom he knows, because he's the smart one, has the side effect of changing one's personality. The chipmunks go to sleep, and when they wake up Simon has turned into the outgoing, adventurous and french accented 'Simone'. This upsets the balance with Alvin who is confronted with his own inner demons realizing in watching 'Simone' that his own actions are often disruptive and counterproductive.
The chipmunks pair off with their gender-bent mirror-images(something Freudian here, but I never read Freud, people just describe this sort of thing as Freudian). Girl-Simon is impressed by the antics of the drugged up 'Simone' who romances her with a golden bracelet he found exploring a waterfall, while Alvin and Girl-Alvin each reckon with the fact that they've been selfish and useless their entire lives, so they decide to be responsible and build shelters. Theodore and Girl-Theodore were... present.
At this point the reader is encouraged to reflect on the fact that these Chipmunks all view Dave as their 'father', not simply their owner. This makes them all step-siblings, at least and their 'romantic' entanglements take on an entirely different slant. Combined with the fact that none of the male chipmunks wears pants, and the girls wear skirts hitched up above their waists gives the film a risque quality that I am shocked was allowed under a G-rating.
Eventually Dave and ~~David Cross~~Ian meet up with the Chipmunks, just before the island... which is a volcano, by the way... begins to erupt. Alvin demonstrates he's matured and can be responsible, while Simon who is reverted back to his normal self must demonstrate courage to save Girl-Simon from Zoe, who's actually crazy, why not. Dave learns to trust his pets/children/employers, and ~~David Cross~~Ian realizes he was a dick when he owned/managed the chipmunks. Everyone convinces everyone else to be cool and they all escape the island together on a raft built by the rodents.
One more musical number as the Chipmunks headline at the... International Music Awards? Is that a thing? Did they agree to be associated with this? Watching the chipmunks perform to a riotous crowd highlights how strange it is that a cover-band doing pop songs would rise to such heights of fame, ignoring the fact that their screeching high-pitched renditions of popular songs grates one to the soul, and that these sentient rodents are simply accepted as a part of society.
THE END(thank god)
Again, not a terrible kids movie; much better the farther they deviated from the musical shtick. Animation was good for the most part, even if what they chose to animate was questionable. Most of the humor was flat, the plot was predictable, but the ending was actually somewhat touching, having earned its emotional climax with fairly decent character arcs through the middle act.
Score: 2/5
TL;DR A risque, sensual, half-nude, romp through the forest has these triplets questioning their morays, learning that forbidden love, treasure, and personal growth can all be found on the path to survival.

Hello! Welcome or welcome back to Capy's Survivor! We are once again playing the game of outwitting, outplaying, and outlasting your fellow castaways, whether that be by flirtatious behavior, backstabbing your opponents, or making plenty of allies. This is Capy's Survivor: One World! I will not be doing write-ups with the posts because I don't have time. I will instead work on them while I can, and post a post with some of them once I'm done.
Meet the Castaways:
Manono Tribe:

Harley Schultz, 39, Bird Keeper (made by u/asiansurvivorfan)
- Harley has always been distant from his family and never really talks to/about them. He enjoys working with birds and has had his job for about 12 years. He often gets mistaken as creepy or intimidating mainly based on his serious demeanor.
Shawn Kooser, 27, Screenwriter (made by u/SilverOwl24)
- Shawn likes to describe himself as an "Athletic Geek". He works as a screenwriter for an animated show, but when he's not writing or watching cartoons/anime, he's working out and playing sports with his friends. He's ready to show survivor how a geek truly wins Survivor.
Michael Krumptone, 47, Band Director (made by u/swoldow)
- Michael had dreams of being a musician since he was a kid, and had the drive to learn his craft to the best of his ability.... however the eighties weren't really the most popular time period for french horn players, so he could never get that big break he always thought he'd have, despite getting a music degree. As a result, he grew old and bitter, resenting modern genres of music like rock and rap, as they are what took his career away from him. He does marching band at a few high schools and basically treats it like it's prison camp due to how bitter he is, and he eventually grew to love his job; torturing kids like him into giving up on their dreams. However, he still hates his wife, as he recently had to pick up another school to teach to pay for his ungrateful wife's netflix, so he needs money somehow.
Robert 'R2' Reyes, 25, Medical Student (made by u/Gemini_B)
- R2 was raised by Chinese immigrants. They always had the highest expectations for him, and encouraged him to enter the medical field. His life is very stressful though, as he always worries about not being good enough for his parents dreams. In the recent years, his parents have been struggling financially, but refuse to use any money reserved for R2's education. Winning survivor will allow him to continue his schooling and take care of his aging parents.
Karl Pearson, 42, Gardner (made by u/TDSwaggyBoy)
- Karl has always loved the outdoors. He's a very outdoorsy kind of guy, loving adventures of all kind. As a kid, Karl was always a bit of an oddball and an off-beat. Despite it, however, he always managed to surround himself with a good, close group of friends. Karl is an only child, and his mom sadly passed away a short while after he was born. Ever since a young age he had to work in order to help his dad with paying their bills and taking care of their house, which made him quite responsible, surprisingly.
Brett Herman, 28, Poker Player (made by u/Twig7665)
- Brett was born into wealth on a mansion in Texas, and lived through most of his childhood in that wealth, until his father was caught up in a huge scandal that left him without money, so at age seventeen Brett ran away to Las Vegas where he could begin a new life. He started playing poker in the streets, and when he was old enough to gamble, he went to a casino, and stunned his opponents by winning the first time he played for money. Soon, people began to realize his talent, and he played in his first professional poker game at the age of 22. Once again, he won, and he became one of the most successful professional poker players in history. This fame caused him to grow arrogant and become a huge jerk, even to his manager. Now rich again, he isn't playing the game for money, he's playing the game to try something new and to gain another title.
Carter Jonese, 23, Author (made by u/chia923)
- Carter was always the baby, even though he was born two minutes before his twin, Matt. This has caused him to be a little immature, leading to him being bullied at school. He later started keeping a diary, which was later found by his girlfriend, Carmen. She understood his life, and the incident brought them closer. She suggested that he become an author and Carter agreed. He has now been married to her and they are planning to have a child soon.
Zed Raymond, 53, Janitor (made by u/Nahuelfire39)
- Zed was a famously arrogant pimp and strategist who had a lot of money-making deals with the mob and their women. However, the police arrested him for illegal business and drug dealing. Zed went to jail for several years, until he was finally released, but he had to start from scratch. Now Zed works as a janitor who at least wins some money. Zed learned what he did in the past, but he is still arrogant without going to extremes, and he knows how to control his smile and his brain perfectly.
Forrest Greene, 21, Medical Student (made by u/CapybaraWookiee)

Salani Tribe:

Angel Ross, 26, Hairstylist (made by u/SilverOwl24)
- Angel can be classified as a California Girl, but she also has a "no shit taking" attitude. If she feels that someone is pulling your chain, she'll take action. In this case on Survivor, she'll do what she can to vote your ass out.
Josie Lopez, 22, Bartender (made by u/swoldow)
- Josie was raised with the illusion he had a perfect wife. Her father, Capy's Survivor player Xangetti DeFranco ran a successful real estate business, and her mother was kind and nurturing to both her, and her identical twin sister, but all of that changed when their father mysteriously disappeared from their penthouse, and their mother became distraught, telling Josie her dad got arrested for numerous forms of scamming, and has been hiding from everyone that he has been a loan shark. This of course made Josie very depressed, but her opinions on her parents began to shift further. In that time, her mother became a huge helecoptor mom, not wanting either sibling to do anything bad in fear that they'll lie to her like her husband did, and spread numerous lies to her children about him. However, unlike her twin, Josie has seen through her mom's manipulation tactics, and has been spending every waking moment of her life trying to contact her dad. Trying to get connections to find him, she works as a bartender while lying to her mom about working nights at a library. Her philosophy is that everyone deserves a second chance in life, and she hopes the million will get her financially independent enough where she can live on her own.
Katrina MacQuoid, 58, Prosthodontist (made by u/Gemini_B)
- Katrina’s parents we’re performers in Kentucky. They lived and breathed theater and expected their daughter to be the same. Though Katrina loved being the center of attention, and still does, she never loved the stage the way her parents did. Her parents wanted her to continue to pursue something arts related, and she became an advertising adjective, but never felt satisfied. When she learned that Kentucky was looking for jobs in the dental field, she felt it would be a perfect field to enter. She always found teeth interesting, I mean, are they bones? But they fall out? So weird. She returned to school at age 35 and became a Prosthodontist at age 43. She’s worked as a Prosthodontist since then and (While not at the level of Peter) has a firm understanding of the most important hole in the human body, the mouth. While she’s liked by many people because of her fun personality, she has trouble forming 1 on 1 bonds and has never found the special one. As a child she often got in trouble for anger issues with her parents, so she began to hold in her anger and let it out in huge, uncontrollable fits when her parents weren't around. This holding in of anger until she can’t contain it is a habit she continues to have, blaming her rages on “Hurricane Katrina” as a sort of justification of her actions. She’s never left Kentucky and while she’s very book smart, she can often be very ignorant on other subjects.
Tori Kane, 27, Music Producer (made by u/TDSwaggyBoy)
- Tori always had a passion for music and natural talent, and by the time she turned 14 she had already known how to play on almost 9 different instruments. She always wanted to become either a singer, a member of a band or just do something in the music industry. And lo and behold, she became a music producer for some of the bigger known artist. And she's only 27! Tori's already high up in the sky! And now, she wants to take on a brand new challenge. She always manages to overcome EVERYTHING, so this should be a piece of cake to her!
Lela Walker, 36, School Psychologist (made by u/dramaking_22)
- When Lela was 11, she had to deal with a very stressful and traumatic decision, and when her parent's fighting turned physical, she called the police on her own father. Since then, her and her mother had to be strong together, without him. That's when she knew she wanted to help people. When she first told her mom she wanted to be a school psychologist, she didn't really like it, but eventually she decided to follow her dreams and major in psychology. After having a successful career in psychology, Lela's mom still wasn't convinced she was making enough money... so she went on to survive to prove it!
Dixie O'Brien, 28, Fashion Designer (made by u/dramaking_22)
- Dixie has grown up with a lot of opinions, and she doesn't hold back on any of them. Growing up in the South, her parents always expected her to eventually take over their small farm. But when Dixie announced to the whole table one night that she wanted to be a fashion designer, her parents were mortified. Dixie was not changing her mind, whether her parents wanted her to or not, and eventually they supported her decision. After she got done college, Dixie has made several successful clothing pieces, under the clothing line "Dixie Chicks". She hopes to win Survivor to promote her company and make her family proud.
ChadBane, ???, God (made by u/CadBaneBadName)
- eh
Ximena Verez, 22, Fencer (made by u/asiansurvivorfan)
- Ximena grew up poor and therefore had to start earning money at an early age by delivering stock. On one of her trips, she was kidnapped and abducted by a group of men that worked for a wanted druglord and rapist. She along with her 3 fellow captives were beaten, abused, and raped for 4 years missing and undetected. After years of mistreatment, Ximena and the other captives were finally found and released. Although it was reliving to be free again, she was deeply traumatized by everything her captor did to her and had an extremely tough time trying to adapt to the real world again. She decided to seek help and was sent to a rehab facility where she got help relieve her trauma. One of the things she picked up was the martial arts which eventually developed into an interest in fencing. Despite it being a male dominated sport, Ximena was adamant on showing young girls they can accomplish anything no matter the hardships they’ve gone through. After her time in rehab,she managed to recover and now spends her time competing in championships all around the world. She came to be a voice for domestic abuse victims
Tonette 'Toni' Madison, 36, Jazz Singer (made by u/CapybaraWookiee)

Season: Capy's Survivor: One World
18th - The Manono tribe quickly became a world divided (ironic) as R2, Forrest, and Michael decided to form a Final 3 pact. The others heard of this, and Brett, Carter, Harley, Karl, and Shawn formed another alliance to counter it. Zed decided to stay on the outside, as he didn’t feel comfortable aligning with anyone this early. Since they had majority, the 5-person alliance decided to try to take the easy way out, and vote for the leader of the opposing alliance, R2. Little did they know, R2 had an idol, sending Karl packing in a 5*-4 vote. Eliminated: Karl
17th - Much like their fellow tribe, Salani also became a war between 2 alliances, those being Angel-Tori-Toni and ChadBane-Josie-Katrina. Knowing flippers are dangerous, ChadBane-Josie-Katrine decided to vote out one of the swing votes, Lela. Angel-Tori-Toni decided on Katrina, seeing her as a goat to the opposite side, which they did not want moving ahead, they obviously managed to get Lela’s vote. But, ChadBane, Katrine, and Josie managed to convince the other 2, Dixie and Ximena, to flip to their side. Sending Lela packing 5-4. Eliminated: Lela
16th - Manono was back to tribal council. It was a tribe divided between Brett-Carter-Harley-Shawn and Forrest-Michael-R2, alongside swing vote Zed. Zed decided to stick with the 3, because the other 4 were being bullies among the tribe, and just seen as threats. Both sides decided to vote the opposing sides leader-figure, being R2 and Brett. It was a 4-4, but Shawn realized he was only hurting his game by staying loyal to the alliance, so he decided to flip. Sending Brett home on a 4-4; 4-2 vote. Eliminated: Brett.
15th - Salani was back at tribal. The alliances were still going strong. With Ximena and Dixie still in the middle. But, Ximena was trying to be a villainous switch, and the 2 alliances said they only needed 1 swing vote to gain a majority, and that Ximena was being untrustworthy, and they can’t keep someone like that until the merge, because she just had a clashing personality with the rest of the tribe, and it wasn’t sitting well. But, little did they know, Ximena had an idol. So she decided that Toni was her biggest adversary currently in the game, and personally. So she sent her home 7*-1. Eliminated: Toni.
14th - A tribe swap occurs, putting Angel, Dixie, Josie, Katrina, Michael, Tori and Zed onto Manono. With Carter, ChadBane, Forrest, Harley, R2, Shawn, and Ximena on Salani. Salani wins the first post-swap immunity, sending Manono to Tribal Council. Ximena manages to find the Salani idol, meaning Forrest (who found the original Manono idol) and Ximena have idols. At the Manono camp, Tori is already making bad first impressions on Michael and Zed, when they approach the other woman, they agree that they need to take her out. But this is secretly just because the other woman just don’t get along well with Tori, and they don’t want her putting the woman at a disadvantage in the future. So by a unanimous vote of 6-1, Tori is sent packing. Eliminated: Tori.
13th - Salani wins another immunity challenge, sending Manono back to the tribal council. Where Zed and Angel have a fight, and the rest of the tribe has had enough of their little rivalry. But, wanting to be in the good with the men coming into the merge, Josie, Dixie, and Katrine decide it will be the best to vote Angel out, even if it does give them a slight disadvantage. Angel goes out in a 4-2. Eliminated: Angel
12th - The merge occurs, which means Carter, ChadBane, Dixie, Forrest, Harley, Josie, Katrina, Michael, R2, Shawn, Ximena, and Zed made the merge. Katrina wins the first immunity challenge. Back at camp, being very divided during the swap, the alliance of Josie, Michael, Zed, Katrina, and Dixie quickly dissolves. Everyone is targeting Ximena, not knowing she has another idol. But Zed wants to try and help a fellow former swing vote. So he tries to rally the girls in an attempt to boot a guy, but they don’t listen. It was a 10-2 for Ximena, but she uses her idol. Blindsiding Carter. Eliminated: Carter.
11th - ChadBane wins the immunity challenge. Knowing there is no hope anymore for Ximena, Zed decides to try to decrease the target on his back by flipping back over to the other side of the vote, as he knows there is no way he will get votes. Ximena goes out in a 10-1 vote. Eliminated: Ximena
10th - ChadBane wins their second immunity in a row. Back at camp, in an attempt to improve his social game, Zed goes and talks to Josie, and they end up bonding a lot. The girls decide that they need to stop trying to vote out their own, as they are down 6-4 in numbers. Luckily for them, R2, Forrest, and Michael decide it will be for the best to vote out Shawn, as he is doing good in the challenges and has a natural charm. They manage to get Zed on board, as he feels like he is on the outside. The women feel like this is a perfect opportunity to take. Shawn is blindsided 8-2. Eliminated: Shawn.
9th - ChadBane wins their third immunity in a row. Seeing him as a major social and strategic threat on the other side, the girls decide that R2 is their biggest adversary. R2 is also targeting Dixie with all the guys because she is seen as a goat to some of the girls, and she can’t make it to the end. Zed ends up flipping in favor of the girls, as he sees R2’s threat level, and is still trying to seal cracks from defending Ximena. But, R2 knows that the girls being quiet towards his is probably not a good sign, and plays his new-found idol just in case. Blindsiding Dixie 5*-4. Eliminated: Dixie.
8th - R2 manages to win immunity, foiling Zed and the girl’s plans of attempting to flip someone in a tie. The girls decide to target R2’s right hand man, Harley. While the guys decide that challenge beat, ChadBane is their biggest target. Zed, the swing vote, is thinking. now with the girls being in a minority instead of a tied majority, and him seeing ChadBane as a bigger threat, he decides to flip back with the guys. Yet another blindside, with ChadBane going out 5-3. Eliminated: ChadBane.
7th - R2 snags another immunity win. Zed is attempting to reconcile his relationship and alliance with Michael. It works, and he manages to convince Michael that they are not priority, that they are not the priority with the guys, and they will take them out whenever they have a chance. They decide that going with the girls target of Forrest would be good. R2, Forrest, and Harley figure that this is happening, as Michael has been strangely quiet towards them. R2 decides that they are too smart to go for the same target twice in a row, and he tells Forrest to play his idol on himself. He does, blocking 5 votes, and blindsiding Josie. Eliminated: Josie.
6th - Katrina wins her second immunity, pitting the guys against each other. Both alliances approach Katrina, with Zed-Michael targeting R2, and R2-Forrest-Harley targeting Michael. Katrina decides that taking the risky move, and forcing a tie with R2 and Michael is the best bet, as someone might flip to their side, seeing as R2 is a major threat. It does tie, Zed and Katrina know that flipping to Michael is very stupid. Forrest and Harley decide that, even though he is a threat, they will make it farther in the game with R2, and having an 100% chance of losing an ally is better than a 50% chance, it ties again. Forrest, Harley, and Zed draw rocks. Forrest draws the black rock, and is promptly eliminated. Eliminated: Forrest.
5th - R2 wins his third immunity. But, he is also panicking, as he just lost one of his intended goats, and might not be able to save his other, Harley. He gathers Zed, Michael, and Harley and tell them that they need to stick with their original alliance. Michael and Zed find this plan good, as it guarantees them a spot. But, they didn’t expect that R2 does not trust them, and he knows Michael is well spoken, and a jury threat. So he decides last-minute to round up Katrina and Harley to blindside him. Michael joins the many people blindsided this season, going out in a 3-2. Eliminated: Michael.
4th - R2 manages to win Final Immunity, which means he won 4 immunities in all. Wanting his game-long enemy, Zed, out R2 decides that even though bringing Katrina will lose him a few votes, he should take Zed out just in case. Zed is the last one to go home by a 3-1 vote. Eliminated: Zed.
Final Tribal Council - R2 manages to win by a vote of 7-2-0, for his well-rounded game, winning 4 immunities, being one of the better strategists this season, orchestrating many blindsides, and playing a great social game. Katrina manages to gather 2 because of her challenge wins and because Dixie and ChadBane were bitter about how they went out. Harley did…. pretty much nothing, so he didn’t get any votes.
My thoughts - One of the better seasons in a while. Dominant winner, but also well-rounded. Definitely deserved it. The sheer amount of blindsides and people getting idoled out was overwhelming at times, but also fun to watch. With being on the bottom of the totem pole the whole game, Zed really managed to work it out, I would’ve liked to see a Katrina-Zed-R2 Final 3. I would like to see how that would work out. All-in-all, a good season. I give it a 6.5/10.
Potential Returnees: R2, Katrina, Zed, Forrest, Josie, ChadBane, Ximena
Leave your thoughts down below!

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