Seat number chevalier theater seating chart

I was jolted awake and I sat there groggily trying to figure out where I was. It took me almost a minute to remember that I was on a plsne flying home.
I glanced about and was surprised at how dark it was, as almost all of the lights were off. I almost jumped out of my seat as the plane went through a patch of turbulence that rocked us from side to side.
I was about to try and fall asleep again when I noticed someone staring directly at me. The person's face was hidden in the darkness, and all I could see was the whites of their eyes.
I began to get uncomfortable as their gaze never shifted from me. I decided to confront them as I didn't condone their behaviour.
I was halfway out of my seat before freezing in place as my gaze shifted around the cabin. Every single person that I could see was staring backwards. It was like a night sky as the cabin was lit up by dozens of eyes staring.
I followed their gaze but couldn't see what had drawn their attention. I could hear a lot chanting coming from somewhere but couldn't make out any of the words.
I carefully got out of my seat and made my way towards the nearest person. I stopped dead in my tracks and almost screamed as I got a proper look at her.
Her neck looks it had been twisted around one hundred and eighty degrees, as this was the reason she was facing backwards. Her lower jaw had almost been torn off and was hanging by a thread from the bottom of her face.
I let out an audible gasp and my eyes widened as her head shifted towards me. I watched in terror as she began to rise from her seat. Her movements were uncoordinated as she seemed unable to control her limbs.
It took her almost a minute to finally stand up while I was rooted to the spot. She tried to advance towards me but obviously forgot I was behind her as she advanced forward.
I couldn't help but giggle watching her jaw bounce up and down, as it reminded me of the way that Canadians are portrayed in South Park.
More and more of the passengers began rising from their seats and I could feel a scream slowly starting to build up in my throat.
I almost peed myself as a hand closed over my mouth. I relaxed a little as someone whispered in my ear to be quiet and follow them.
I spun on my heel and followed the person to the back of the plane and behind a curtain to a dimly lit area. There were three other people sitting around with the same terrified expression etched on all of their faces.
An older woman who looked to be in our eighties was rocking a small girl in her arms, who was crying quietly. A stewardess was sitting beside them and drinking from a small bottle of whiskey. I could tell by the empty bottles lying beside her that she was obviously very drunk.
The person who had rescued me was a guy in his early twenties wearing a Nirvana t-shirt. He introduced me to everyone but none of them even looked up at me. The older woman was Edna and the little girl was Hannah, while the stewardess was named Bethany. The guy reached out his hand and told me his name was Barry.
His handshake was very weak and I had the resist the urge to wipe my hands on my clothes afterwards.
I asked if anyone knows what happened and Barry shook his head and told me they woke up to find the other passengers like this.
Bethany began to rise to her feet and time seemed to slow to a crawl as she knocked over a number of bottles which shattered on the ground.
Within seconds the curtain was flung to one side and the other passengers began to swarm inside.
Bethany was quickly overwhelmed and I watched her being dragged inside the cabin and out of sight.
Barry attempted to fight them off but to no avail. Our eyes locked for a moment before one of the other passengers grabbed a hold of his head and wrenched it around. I heard the snap of his neck breaking before they then tore his jaw off before discarding it on the ground.
I reached over and latched onto Edna's hand and began pulling her and Hannah away from the other passengers. We ducked under their swinging arms as they couldn't move very quickly.
I found an empty aisle and got them to hide on the floor while I tried to reach the cockpit. I had to change my route a few times as the other passengers were now freely wandering around the plane.
I saw a few of them get thrown from their feet after another bout of turbulence struck us.
I slowed my pace as I noticed that the cockpit door was wide open. Blood seemed to be pouring out of the door in a steady stream. I peered inside and lost all sense of hope as I gazed at the carnage inside.
The pilot's dismembered bodies lay scattered across the cockpit and it looked like most of the equipment had been ransacked. The only reason we were probably still flying was the autopilot was engaged.
I heard a sound behind me and spun around to find Barry standing directly towards me. I lunged past him and felt the tips of his fingers caress the back of my neck. I heard the same familiar chanting from earlier coming from his mouth, but didn't stick around to see what it was.
I made my way back to the others and suggested we find a better hiding place. I helped Hannah up and then turned around to help Edna.
She was facing the other direction and I felt sick inside as I watched two hands grasp her head and spin it around.
Edna's face was a mask of terror as a small dribble of blood ran from her mouth. She mouthed the words "run" to me, moments before her jaw was unceremoniously torn off.
I picked up Hannah and ran forward into the nearest toilet and locked the door behind me. Hannah was in an almost comatose state as she lay on the floor while I sat silently on the toilet.
The other passengers were standing directly outside and I could hear them scratching at the door trying to force their way inside.
The toilet was somehow amplifying their chanting and I could finally understand what they were saying. I have no clue why they keep repeating "do you have a moment to discuss your car's extended warranty?". I pray that the plane crash lands in the ocean as I fear what will happen if some of the passengers get loose.

In my country there is a competitive exam that needs extraordinary level of thinking. I joined one institute for that exam. Joined 2 weeks late. There was a girl sitting in the other row(2 chair) and I was in the other(4-5 chair). She used to ask her doubts to the teacher and her voice was something that lured me. So 1 month later she told me how to join the institute group for information(that was the first time we talked). After a month or so, we became friends(I have good social skills and can make almost anyone laugh, so worked on her also). Then there was a feeling that she liked me. After 2 months we sat together and that was it(our seats were fixed). She asked if I listened to songs I said yes and so her she. She gave me her number, we messaged each other songs and she liked mine ones. After like 1 week of that she reacted a heart to one of my text and that was something. I used to ask her how she was when she didn’t come to the classes and used to wish her luck for exams and tests she used to respond very humbly. Now it is been 7 months and we both are in love with each other. We both take care of each other. We know each other. And the good thing is no one knows about this so it feels special.

Artificial Dumbness
by Zeph Baxter
“It said ‘From the President of the United States’. Could it be legit?” asked GB.
“How would I know, GB, my man?” said Nando, eating a piece of fish which he had caught a few hours earlier. “I don’t know how to read. You know I am just a fisherman who has nothing much to do other than catch fish, right?”
“Well, yes, yes, but you are wise. And of course, you are the only one I can ask. There’s no one else here, anyway. So, whatever you say, I’ll value it.”
“Why? What happened to your assistant? The fat one. She was good GB man. She was good. She even helped me with the fishing one time. Wait, did you make her run away too?”
GB shifted his weight uncomfortably. “That’s not the point. We just have a very high turnover rate in the research business.”
“Ah. I never thought about what you do was a business. You just keep working on those fish and plants and keep them in your hut. So, do you sell them somewhere?”
“Look. It’s a business because I am a researcher. I don’t know why I am even explaining it to you. I have gotten a prize from America. Not a glorious prize. But still a prize. They say it’s an Ig Nobel prize.”
“Oh. So, that’s why the US man wants you there, huh?”
“The US president? Why would he want me? How did they even get my address?”
As GB looked towards his sole listener, the man had slept in his chair.
“How can you sleep so fast? Wake up. I said, wake up.”
The man, however, started to snore and GB had nothing else to do except to trust the letter. He took a long breath as he walked back to his hut. He knew it was time he opened the envelope.
Professor Googabooga Smith,
It’s my pleasure to invite you to be a part of a prestigious group of researchers on behalf of the President of the United States. You will work on the latest technologies, and you will be awarded a salary at a rate commensurate with your experience. If you are interested in the opportunity, as I am sure you will be, then we expect you will report tomorrow to the local airport.
GB looked at the letter in utter disbelief. What had the Americans been eating or drinking? Could they have found out about one of his latest research on those hallucination-inducing mushrooms causing visions of grandeur? How could they? He hadn’t even published it yet. Besides, he had close to zero understanding of technology. Unlike his fellow citizens, GB was content to stay in Congo. The only thing he loved about and probably knew much about the Americans was that there were coffee machines in every office. He had only recently upgraded to a smart phone but still missed the ones with buttons. Although his salary was too mediocre to tell people in the street, he was happy, and that was all that mattered to him.
As he laid back in his seat, he took another sniff of some of his recently discovered variety of river basin mushrooms. In his daydreams, he imagined making perfumes of the essence and then selling it in the French markets as he lazily thought to himself. What about the airport? This entire idea seemed too weird to be true.
As Nadia adjusted the seat-belt on her window seat, she still couldn’t believe her luck. Neither could anyone at the hostel. Or in her aunt’s case, didn’t even seem to notice or care. The call more or less went like this.
“So you are going somewhere?” her aunt asked.
“Yes, I wanted to get your permission,” said Nadia.
“Well, I am very busy this summer and we are going for a trip to the Northern areas. So, either you can stay in the Hostel or go to that place of yours. You were saying it’s an internship?”
“Yes, but it’s in the US.”
“Ahan. And they are paying for it, right?”
“Yes, oddly so. They even arranged for my visa.”
“Then go. Sure. And Nadia…”
“Yes, auntie?”
“Don’t get into trouble. We might even be out of cell phone range while we are on vacation.”
“I won’t. I promise to try my best,” said Nadia.
Nadia sat back in the seat, looking outside in the clouds. The serene feeling of floating with the earth below and the universe above.
“I sometimes wonder if robots will take over the planet someday,” said a soothing voice from her left.
“Excuse me,” said Nadia, looking towards the gray-haired lady, confused. The woman looked oddly familiar. As Nadia looked, she realized the woman was a doppelgänger of someone she couldn’t put a finger on. Wait, could she be the Queen of England, but that was impossible? She would never try flying any commercial airlines in an economy seat, besides the fact that she was dead now.
The woman smiled, peering from her golden glasses as she looked back again at a thick novel that she held in her hands. “These authors scare you. But I can’t stop reading them. I just love reading sci-fi.”
“Pardon. But you look a lot like the Queen of England.”
“Yes, I get that a lot,” said the lady, smiling.
“But she’s dead.”
“Or maybe I just switched myself with a dead body and now am traveling the world and having fun,” said the old lady, chuckling. “Naah. That would be impossible. Everyone would know.”
“Yes, they would. I guess. Pardon me,” said Nadia as she straightened the seat’s back. Doppelgänger or not, she was just uneasy in front of the old lady.
“You can recline your seat. I don’t mind,” said the lady, chuckling heartily as she adjusted her glasses and opened her book again.
Nadia tried to relax as her mind raced off into tangential daydreams. Little had she realized that submitting a quantum algorithm simulation to the hackathon competition would get her an enrollment in the prestigious presidential internship and a fully funded trip. She imagined happy thoughts, counting algorithm loops on quantum computers, as the plane took off on its fourteen-hour long flight.
As he reached the airport, the wind was blowing, ruffling his hair and carrying the distinct smell of the tarmac. He glanced around, noticing the smell of freshly cut grass and a few people milling about, their laughter reverberating off the walls. The airport was alive with the sound of engines and announcements over the loudspeaker. He wondered if it was possible to fly internationally, as no such flights were listed. He walked through the halls, awkwardly carrying the small bag on his shoulder with the sound of his footsteps echoing around. Could this be a practical joke of some sort? One of his ex-students? Or some secret rival? How could it be that the President of the United States would be interested in his obscure research? Something he highly doubted, though. So then what?
The reason he had come was the feelings of disillusionment that he felt secretly. He wasn’t getting anything concrete done, anyway. It had been years after his retirement from the post of a professor. He had moved to several places around the globe before settling in Congo, a country he knew little about, but one having the deepest river in the world.
As he moved closer to the departure area, his heart beat faster in anticipation. He saw a few men standing alone, families, children playing in the open areas, and passengers in a queue. The more he stood there, the more he realized the ridiculousness of his situation. He wasn’t sure why he had come here anymore. Maybe he should turn back now.
“Dr. Smith, is that you?” a crisp voice said. So, now he was hearing voices too?
“Dr. Googabooga Smith?” said the voice. He turned around. In front of him stood a tall, wide man, wearing a black suit, crisp white shirt, and a pair of expensive sunglasses which covered a large part of the man’s face.
“Yes, that would be me. And you are?”
“I didn’t mean to startle you. We have been waiting.”
“Waiting for me? But. How did you know I was coming?”
The man smiled courteously. “You will find us resourceful.”
“So, which flight are we going to take? And there’s a problem—my passport has expired.”
The man smiled. “Sir, we got you covered.”
As he looked to the side, GB saw three more men standing dressed similarly in suits and sunglasses. One of them produced a smooth, square leather suitcase, and the smell of leather wafted through the air as they opened it.
As GB looked inside, in front of him lay a passport and currency bundles of dollars, euros, and pounds. As he lifted the passport up, he was surprised to see a renewed one.
“And Dr. GB this way, please. We are going via the VIP lounge. There’s a private jet waiting for us, fueled and ready for takeoff.”
Nadia started out with her daily routine and chores, beginning with the simulations. This was her second week at the lab, as it was called for whatever reasons. She would describe it as a regular office if someone asked her about it. In her mind, the lab meant chemicals, flasks, vernier calipers, fire, and… more chemicals, and lab coats, and even more chemicals. The closest she had seen one was in the television shows or else in her high school, from which she had graduated at the ripe age of 13 and that was two years back. And the place where they were didn’t look at all like a lab. Though it wasn’t a lab per se, it was probably one of the coolest places she had ever seen or imagined. There were facilities, games, a gym, a restaurant, you name it. She felt like cheating because it was like they were getting paid for having fun.
Being young and getting hired to work at such a prestigious lab had its privileges, but also setbacks. They treated her like a kid, so she could make as many mistakes as possible with no one scolding her. And the bad thing was the same; she was treated like a kid despite her ability to communicate with everyone at the same level as they were, even though most of them had postdocs.
The first few days had been uncomfortable, as she felt like the odd girl out. But then after checking out the rest of the weirdos in the lab, she realized perhaps she was the only normal person there.
“Are you done with the calculations?” said an impatient voice from behind. As she looked back, she found her immediate boss, Allison Monroe, standing with a large bar of chocolate in her hand and chocolate smears on the side of her lips.
“Is that dark chocolate?” she asked.
“No, it’s hazelnut. But I have a couple of bars of dark chocolate stashed in the store if you want some?”
“That sounds swell. And yes, I have run the simulations. Everything seems fine.”
“Wonderful. Then we can move on to the next phase.”
“What’s the next phase, if I may be bold enough to ask?”
“We need to see if the algorithm matches the results from my proof.”
“The proof that got you the Ig Nobel prize? You mean a quantum algorithm for proving chocolate is a must for every meal?”
“You have read my paper already?”
“Well, I just try to read as many key papers in any domain as I can. You can say I have at least read papers from all of you folks.”
“That’s impressive. I’ll be happy to answer questions.”
“Well, I have one, but might be irrelevant to the paper. So, I am having a hard time understanding what are we doing here exactly. I understand that you have this super giant computer. Correct?”
“Yes, it is an ultimate quantum computer which might work with any number of qubits.”
“Can we call it infinite?”
“We can’t quantify infinity. But other than that, however many qubits we will ever need, I can assure you our ultimate machine can handle it.”
“Okay. So, we have this ultimate machine, and we are running a simulation of a theorem based on the Fermat’s last theorem to prove that chocolate should be eaten at every mealtime?”
“Yes, but only if it is shaped like a ball.”
“Oh. Thanks for correcting me. A perfect sphere?”
“No, just like a ball. It could be shaped like a football or rugby ball or a beach ball or even a Ping-pong ball. So, we are all set, or do you have another question?”
“Why are we wasting our ultimate quantum computer’s power to do just this thing?”
“We are not wasting its cycles. I have already proven the paper, but now we want to see if we can get the quantum computer to do it.”
“Okay. That makes sense in a weird quantum computation way.”
“See, you are getting the hang of it already. Nadia, how long have you been working on quantum computation?”
“Since my eighth grade.”
“Yes, we called you over because of that quantum algorithm paper you submitted to our conference. What was it called?”
“Oh, I called it the Deep Quantum Unlearning.”
“Aha. And you did it at 15, right?”
“Well, I finished writing it on my 14th birthday but then didn’t get time to develop a paper till Spring Break.”
“You are also welcome to test it out, then. After all, what good is a quantum computer, if you can’t even test your own algorithm on it?” said Alison, laughing.
Just then, without warning, the piercing sound of an alarm filled the air.
​
First Previous Next

They went on to smash heavy favourites Melbourne City 6-1 in the Grand Final. With so called "Cold hearted, %!@#ing killer" Scott Jamieson sitting on the bench too frightened to enter the field of play.
​
Pre game Central Coast Manager Nick Montgomery was quoted saying - "The line must be drawn here!! This far - No further!!". Whilst Melbourne City spokesperson and perennial pine sitter Scott Jamieson was seen throwing his jacket to a trainer saying "Can you put it on my seat please, so I can wear it on the bench please". (Note the double please - he was quite clearly terrified of the incoming humiliating defeat)
​
Post game number 1 Central Coast Mariners fan Banksy was seen celebrating with the team. Whilst Melbourne City number 1 fan Yoshi was quoted saying "Fuck this team.. I only support winners.. where is my Mariners jersey?".
​
Never forget. #OffSeasonShitPost

Link to part 2
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/13qcl3m/the_big_rock_candy_mountain_book_2_finding/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Well, this is going to be a little different.
First thing I want to say is that Kev will be back. I’m not the type to sugar coat things, he’s in a pretty sorry state, but he’s going to pull through. He’s a tough bastard.
In case you haven’t clued in yet, it’s Mike, I might not be as much of a wordsmith as Kev but I think I can keep your interest.
She was about five foot four, pale greasy skin and pitch colored hair that was just about to cross the double line from shiny into gross. Early thirties I’d guess, but with the strange shit Kev and I have gotten ourselves into she could be a million, or put together yesterday for all I know.
She was a “ Shame Monger” which was as esoteric of a job title as it sounds, and the first context me and my little buddy had on our current assignment.
The place we’re in is an old, decrepit arcade, I’m surrounded by shadowy figures sticking to the dark recesses like insects.
Kev is somewhere deep within the place sticking his neck out with God knows what ( I mean, I do as well, but I’ll let Kevin relay shit when he’s up to it.), and I’m making small talk.
“You human? “ I say, she’s not offended but raises an eyebrow.
“Are you? “ She has an edge to her, human or not, she’s seen some shit.
I laugh, running a hand over the branded lines mimicking clown patterns Art left me with after that stay in his gulag.
“Sometimes I forget about the braille.
Yeah, %100 sadly. “ I lean on the counter as I speak.
“Me too, you haven’t been working with the watchers long, have you? “ She sounds concerned, “ I’d suggest finding a new job. They have a bit of a reputation. “
“Long enough. “ I’m wary now, information is a resource I’m not willing to part with easily.
I don’t think she’s wrong, mind you, every day I spend with these wizards by another name, I like them less and less. Being sent with Kev, Jr, and the voices in my head, wandering across the country to find something called “The Fleshsmith”, is the best case scenario in my opinion. Gives me some breathing room.
“How do does one deal in shame? “ I say after a long silence. The glitched beeping of the machines becoming grating.
“Not as spooky as you’d think.
You play airsoft? I’m Tori by the way. “ Tori says, lighting up a small black cigar.
“Never got the bug, but I’ve heard of it, and I’m Mike. “ I reply.
“Well Mike, I play, and it’s a great hobby. Lots of physical activity, lots of equipment to learn about, it’s got something for everyone. For the most part, it’s an exciting activity .
But, think of the factory that makes the plastic ammunition. It’s integral, but it’s cheap, easy to make, monotonous, and far removed from any of the interesting facets of the hobby.
That’s me. I brush up against all kinds of folks, but besides the little wrinkle your friend is dealing with, all of the real spooky shit is well past arm’s length. “ she coughs, the thick, cherry scented smoke hangs in rings, “ It’s a living. “
“Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.
I hear ‘ Shame Monger’ and I was thinking torture, and, I don’t know, ghosts maybe? “ I shrug, motioning for one of the cigarellos.
She gives me one, it tastes of rose and a rich, almost syrup like tobacco.
“Sorry to disappoint. No, extraction is pretty painless, uses a kind of blotter paper. And to the best of my knowledge, ghosts aren’t a thing.
As I said, things are safe and boring. “ Tori says, taking a seat on a black waist high stool.
I let her statement hang for a moment.
“So what’s with the big guy trying to blend in, waiting for me to leave the counter? And why did he come with 2 friends and a running engine? “ I say, low but casual.
I can tell she’s annoyed at my insight.
“That’s nothing horror adjacent. Just a good old fashioned shake down, cost of doing business.
He doesn’t know exactly what goes on here, but him and his associates know it’s profitable enough they can squeeze ten grand out of me a month. “ Tori shrugs, putting out her cigar.
“You can’t give someone a discount to rattle their cage? “ I ask, curious.
“Listen to you. “ Tori laughs, “If your butcher asked you to get shot for them, would you jump at the chance? “
I make eye contact, I can’t help but smirk.
“I’ve gotten shot for less. “ My comment gets a sideways look.
“Mike, I’m seeing you, and I’ve got to say, kinda seems like you’re full of shit. “ Her reply is harsh, but I can’t blame her. I’m dressed like salesman, facial scars or no.
I don’t reply. I walk to the grimy, dim, wet floored men’s room.
Someone who chooses my line of work doesn’t get into it because they have great impulse control. And unfortunately, I’m not unique .
Since I’ve got here, I’ve felt scared, small, ineffective. I know you guys have seen Kevin’s point of view on things, and it makes me seem like some kind of wrecking ball, but that is 50 per cent showmanship, 30 per cent planning and 20 per cent not caring if I lose a piece or two.
But this situation, some low rent semi-connected asshole who thinks he’s Don Corleone? It calls to me.
The clothing I wear is designed to be reversable, and with a few adjustments, I’m no longer wearing a cheap looking used car salesman’s suit, but an antique tuxedo with a 1940s design.
The mirror is grimy as hell, I try to clear a spot, but the sad, octogenarian Esque flow from the tap isn’t up to the task.
But it’s clear enough to reflect him, standing behind me. I jump, and my heart starts to pound.
“Not the time for this. “ I say, pacing.
I try to look away, but there he is, in the corner of my vision, each time. I’d close my eyes, but that’s what he wants, he gets closer when I can’t see.
For a half second my vision is taken up by a crystal clear image of his face. That angular, pale visage inhuman by any standard, but haunting in it’s echoes of a past rooted in mortality.
I stumble backward, slamming into the wall. Panting, my eyes locked on his almost-there form.
He’s tall, wicked, and everything about him exudes power. He’s taken to looking like me more and more lately. But a twisted, malignant reflection, what I could be if I let this pulp novel of a corner of reality have it’s way with me.
“Fuck off Demi! “ I say, getting to my feet, “ I’ve got shit to do. “
Still don’t know if he is just another hallucination, or who he says he is, but Demi and myself are on pretty poor terms as of late.
I hear the bodyless old ghoul whispering what I assume are dark threats as I open a small tube of what I like to refer to as ‘Mike’s Mix’.
A combination of preparation H, topical anesthetic, and just a hint of clown white. Laugh if you want, but it stops a hell of a lot of incidental injuries in my line of work.
Demi starts to fade and I see what I can of myself in the dull mirror.
I’m a little too old for the phrase, but I’m sure a lot of you folks out there would refer to the cliché spook I’ve cultivated as “Cringe”.
I don’t disagree.
But, it’s the game I have to play right now. I’m not some invincible cursed killer, but you know what, I can certainly play one on T.V.
(Did I just try to relate to kids, then make a joke from a 40 year old commercial? This is why Kev does the writing.)
I walk out of the bathroom, reeking of fear sweat and tainted water. The foot and a half lucite rod is tucked up my sleeve, I tap the end of it against the wall as I walk.
The guy is six feet, easily, he’s fifty or so, but making up for it with trips to the gym and a few friendly doctors if I don’t miss my guess.
He doesn’t take the bait, just keeps talking to Tori, once he looks to me, I can tell he is asking her who I am, she’s smart, she shrugs after looking over.
I had an entire plan where I would embarrass the man, get him to send some guys, and make things so costly he just gave up on Tori. It’s a classic, but if it ain’t broke and all that.
But plans, like the people that make them, tend to fail at the worst times.
Once I get within striking distance, the guy turns, his speed isn’t supernatural, but a lot more than I was expecting. His punch lands well enough that I don’t remember starting to fall.
The second finishes the job before I can get my bearings.
The darkness creeps in and in it’s peace I realize how stupid it was to go in this half cocked. I was jonesing for a fight I could win so badly, I went in without a plan B.
I need someone to reign me in, back home it was Eli, here, it’s Kev. As the last bits of conscious thought leave me, I feel bad about leaving him alone.
It's the stifling heat that wakes me up, before my vision clears I smell hot, cheap leather, old vomit and years worth of attempts to mask the smell.
I’m soaked in sweat, the air is like a sauna. I’m sitting in the back of a car, I wouldn’t call it a limo, but it’s clearly built for comfort, in optimal circumstances. There’s a tinted glass partition separating me from the front seat, it’s cracked slightly, I try to tell if anyone is there, but have no luck.
“Can’t say this is a new experience. “ I say, to whoever may be listening.
I try kicking out the windows and the partition, they don’t budge a millimeter.
“If you are up for talking things over, I’m game. “ I try to pry the overhead light loose, and that’s when I notice it.
It's a note, in a thick plastic sleeve, wrapped around my forearm and stuck with some kind of adhesive.
The pain is horrible, made all the worse by the constant pouring of sweat literally putting salt into the wound.
Said wound isn’t deep, a few layers of skin down, enough to weep blood, but far away from pouring. But if this kills me, it won’t be exsanguination. Depending on how long, whoever, plans on keeping me in here, I worry about infection, necrosis, pretty much all the members of the Untreated Wound crew.
I take off the suit jacket, and tear it into strips to use as makeshift bandages, I have a feeling I’ll be needing plenty by the time this is over.
My left arm is slow and clumsy as I open the envelope. I hope it’s just shock, or swelling, not nerve damage.
It reads:
Hey, Dracula, or whatever the hell you are.
Fuck yourself, you think we don’t have ways of taking care of your kind?
Have Fun
Niko Ferang
“Well, can’t say the guy isn’t succinct. “ I say, laughing.
If I just went up to the guy with a threat and a pipe, I’d have either won or lost, and that’d be the end of it. But my genius self succeeded in convincing him I was scary enough to toss me… here.
It dawns on me that there is something obvious I haven’t tried.
As I pull the latch on the passenger side door, something inside me tells me to stop.
Visually, I can’t really describe what it looked like opening the door. The brief period before I saw what was beyond was the visual equivalent of trying to catch a greased pig.
I was left with a view, an identical car interior. The other car parked impossibly close, Their doors seeming to blend with their exteriors.
I enter, as a great man once said “Buy the ticket, take the ride. “, and my dumb ass need for assurance, bought me one hell of a ride.
Once I get in, the driver’s side door closes, and I find myself in the same sweltering heat, in the same backseat.
The damp leather sticks to my arms, I start to calculate how much water I’m losing by the minute, and the math scares the hell out of me.
I try going through the door a few more times, but the more I do, the more I realize, it’s the same car.
The fear becomes as oppressive as the wet heat, I’ve researched a hell of a lot of things from the watchers library, but infinite Oldsmobiles didn’t come up.
I’ve been disarmed, but left with my phone, and wallet. I’m kind of impressed they managed to find 99 per cent of the equipment I can hide in a suit, but hey, %1 is better than nothing.
The phone makes a useless bludgeon, I quickly retire the idea, and figure, even neutered as it is ( I find I can get online, but little else.), it’s better doing phone things than broken.
The good news is frighteningly slim.
I’ve got a few feet of polymar tarp, folded in the wallet, useful for a lot of things, but most important in my situation will be trying to get some kind of drinking water.
An emergency credit card knife, barely useful little thing, won’t do me any good in a fight, but might be a useful tool.
Three strike anywhere matches, a small hook and length of fishing line.
My lips are cracked and bleeding, it can’t have been more than an hour or two, but I’m starting to feel heat exhaustion set in.
I think I’ve found something when the knife sinks into the thin leather of the overstuffed backseat, but the shoddy blade encounters some kind of solid matter, and as I pull the knife out, the leather seals itself.
I stay still, trying to conserve energy, trying to formulate some plan.
He sits beside me now, his looming hunched frame bent in the confines of the car. His face is a blur, but I know beneath the shadows he's smirking.
“I’m way too tired for you Demi. “ I say, wiping what feels like a liter of sweat from my forehead.
His repeating, echoing laughter proves me wrong, I shiver, despite the brutal heat.
It can’t have been more than a few degrees, bit It feels like getting splashed with ice water.
The light in the car begins to dim, and with it, the soul crushing temperature of the luxury automobile drops.
I scramble to set up the tarp, I was banking on this, without some kind of temperature drop, the plastic sheet is useless.
Within an hour droplets have began to create a small stream, collecting at the cone shaped tip of the suspended tarp. Lacking anything to put it into, I catch the liquid in my mouth.
It's foul, and likely contaminated, but it’s my only option. If I’m stuck in here a week I can get by without food, brutalized by heat, I won’t make it 2 days without water.
I feel exhausted, wondering exactly how long I’ve been stuck here I check the time on my phone.
It’s almost random progression does nothing to comfort the surreal sense of dread that is enveloping me.
I don’t know when I passed out, but I wake up laying across the reeking leather, being dragged backward.
I feel fingers, dozens of them, clawing, scraping, trying to gain purchase. A crevice begins to open in the deep black leather, and I begin to be dragged into it.
I throw myself forward, landing painfully on the sticky, grime ridden floor of the car.
Fear, and the awkward ergonomics of my situation make turning around a slow, nerve wracking chore. Once I manage to, I regret the decision.
Hands, some small, some large, some seemingly cobbled together from mismatched scraps, slowly pull themselves from the crevice between the seat and back of the back seat.
They prod and crawl like insects, none ever giving way to arm, just a lumpen flow of calloused, wrist like structure, giving each an segmented, centipede like appearance.
I sit up, watching the macabre display, trying to make some kind of sense of it.
I actually scream when there’s a sharp, loud, mechanical ringing beside my head. The type of analogue noise that went out of style long before land lines did.
It doesn’t take me long to find the handle and pull out an ancient car phone, it’s a two part wood paneled brick of a thing, I pick up the receiver, “Hello” I say, a question as much as a greeting.
The voice is male, probably early twenties.
“Don’t worry about them. They can be an issue if you don’t sleep on the floor, but I’ve never seen one drag itself more than half way across the seat. “ He’s calm, but has a survivors hushed impatience.
“Who are you? “ I ask.
“I won’t lie to you man.
I’ve been in here a while, but now that there is someone else, I think I can get out. Call me Pol. “ I catch the hopeful tone in his voice.
“How? “ I say simply, still trying in vain to put more space between me and the hands.
“Not to sound cold, but if I tell you, there is a chance you just take the information and leave me here.
The first step is us meeting, you’ll know the plan by the time that happens.
I don’t lie. “ If nothing else I can say Pol seems smart.
“Fair enough, what can I do? “ I Trail off at the end of my sentence, one of the hands is pointing at me.
“You need to understand a few things about this place.
First, don’t travel at night. Nothing you are going to find is going to be any better than the crawlers.
Second, remember the numbers, 1, 5 and 9. I’m assuming you have a watch, or a cellular phone? If the time ends in one of those, you’re likely to find a new space.
Last, what’s outside of the car, on the driver’s side, pretend it doesn’t exist. “ The instructions are cryptic, but I’m in no place to turn down good advice.
“How do I know I can trust you? “ I ask, knowing the answer.
“Don’t see how I could be anything other than what I say.
Wouldn’t it be pretty obvious if I was trying to lead you astray? “ Pol’s response is reasonable, but a lifetime of being blindsided makes me wary.
“I guess so. What should I be doing now? “ I say, flipping off the hand like thing that continues to point at me.
“Get some sleep. Time, day and night cycles, they mean nothing here, and passing out in a hundred and fifty degree weather is a shitty way to go.
I won’t be able to get through during the day, so listen carefully.
If you time your travel right, you are going to be looking for two main things. The first is going to be a pillow mint, eventually you are going to starve either way, the human body needs more than just sugar, but you should be able to find enough to keep you going till malnutrition kicks in. The second is a soda can, it’s a sip, and it’s turned, but it’s better than trying to lick the droplets from the windows. “ I listen to Pol, hopefully memorizing his instructions.
Daylight brings with it reek and heat, I watch the hands scuttle back to within the recesses of the seats, shuddering a bit as I see wave like, movements in the cushions.
“God damn it. “ I say looking at the display on my knock off phone. About %50, for all I know I’ll be out in 15 minutes, but I’m not banking on it.
I watch the numbers flash by like a stock ticker, waiting to see if Pol is trying to screw me over or not.
I see 1:39 and crack open the passenger side door.
The same sweltering heat, the same basic backseat, but I know, at a glance, things are not quite identical. Part repetition from the day before, part a decade and a half playing private eye, but I can tell Pol was telling the truth.
Lipstick, smeared on the passenger window, an old handprint. It seems like something bad happened here.
The leather of one of the headrests is torn, I purposely avoid looking at the certainly not stuffing inside.
It’s like this place wants to tell a story, I can’t help but try and hear it.
I don’t find any soda, but I do find a single, red and white pillow mint, wrapper mostly in tact, sitting in a sticky patch on the floor.
I try my luck a few more times, using the cell phone as a kind of metronome, and while I do get a lot of repetition, every so often, there is a little change, or quirk.
I’ve collected two pocketfulls of mints, and found myself desperately hoping to stumble upon anything to drink. Another night of distilled sweat, dust, and God knows what doesn’t seem appealing.
I must have been too slow opening the door, I’d done it over two hundred times at this point, and the grey haze of this new variation set off every danger instinct in me.
It felt like I was being watched from every angle, despite the gloom the heat was worse, and seemed to bake a fungal reek into the air itself.
The door handle on the passenger side is mangled, the steel colored plastic twisted into a useless lump.
The leather seems slightly rotten, weather stripping peels, light fixtures are cracked and loose, it feels very, old.
I watch the phone, my eyes instinctively darting around, there are noises from the front seat and I doubt they have my best interests in mind.
I’m trying the mangled door handle but something is broken.
That being, said, with a car this old, the fish hook, with enough persistence could work,
I Peel back some of the stripping around the window, te hook begins it’s slow trek down into the mechanics of the door.
I scratch my wounded arm, it hurts, but that isn’t what concerns me. I feel a small, irregular lump.
I peel back my makeshift bandages, and what I see attempts me make to vomit stomach contents that weren’t there.
Small, brown grey mushrooms, a half dozen, about the size of a grain of rice. I feel a tingling in the wound, and panic sets in.
Opening a door like this requires a steady hand, but between the noises in the front seat, and the literally budding body horror on my arm, my nerves are shot.
I hear the partition begin to lower, and that rotten, fungal reek becomes nearly a physical force. My eyes water, my nose runs, and I hear a noise, like flowing sand.
I feel the hook dig under the proper part of the lock and pull up as I feel something wet soak through my shoe.
The door opens violently, not that I’m upset, I toss myself forward like I’m going for a touchdown, my forehead slams off of the armrest in the newest backseat I find myself in.
Before the passenger side closes I catch a glimpse of the mess that spilled from behind the partition. Rot and flesh, an aborted rotten attempt at life enraged at the universe that spawned it.
I actually feel relief at the blinding sunlight, and shining leather, and find myself relating to the monsterous mass I left behind.
I look at my arm, realizing I didn’t leave all of it behind.
“Oh, fuck me. “ I say, fumbling the credit card knife together.
The mushrooms had doubled in size, the cheap tin knife makes a terrible scalpel, I scream as I err on the side of caution, flaying a half inch around each.
I’m bleeding heavily, half of the makeshift bandages barely keeping the flow at bay.
My vision swims, I feel sick, and I fight the urge to break down into a mentally and physically broken heap.
That’s where I’ll leave everyone. Night is falling, and without a little more help from Pol, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.
If this is the last time you hear from me, well I’m sure Kev will have you guys covered for the rest of what I hope is Art’s downfall.
If it isn’t, I’ve got a favor to ask, did you guys notice anything I didn’t? Is there anything that is more obvious from outside this displaced cluster fuck?

This morning my mom frantically woke me up. "Hurry!" she screamed. As I stumbled out of bed still half-conscious I managed to mutter out "What’s going on?" She ignored me, pacing back and forth in my room, only stopping to emphatically tell me I needed to hurry. After a couple minutes, I had finished getting ready and we bolted out the door. As I jumped into the passenger seat of my mom’s car, it dawned on me I still had no clue what was going on. "What’s happening?" I asked my mom, who still wore a disturbed look on her face. It’s your grandmother, she had rapidly became brutally ill and had collapsed in the night. "What?" I replied. I was shocked. We desperately zoomed through the dull, bland hallways of the hospital searching for the room number we were instructed to locate. "245…246…here it is! Room 247!" We quickly entered the room, as my sleeping grandmother became revealed. We sat down and began to talk with my grandfather about what had happened. And then he gave the news that changed my life forever. He called me out of the room to talk with me privately. I knew something was wrong. He smiled and told me things would be okay, but his face quickly became more serious as he got closer to telling me. "Kid, I know you love you grandmother, so you’ll be strong for her." He said sternly. "Of course" I replied. He began. "Last night I found your grandmother in the floor, and I quickly called 911. But then, whike on the phone with them, I noticed a small blue light emitting from the living room." He said, giving a pause for an unnecessary dramatic effect. "What was it?" I said impatiently. I saw his face drop. "Well, I walked into the room and I saw the TV on. She was playing FIFA." He said. I nodded, confused but willing to listen. "It showed her lineup." My heart dropped. It couldn’t be. It was then that my grandfather gave the news that would change me forever. "She had TOTS Wojciech Szczęsny in goal." My face went white. "But that means…" I said in horror. "That means she has brain cancer…" My grandfather put his hand on my shoulder. "Terminal too. Just be strong kid, and don’t EVER… do what she did."

Human Dave is taken to a large circular room, reminiscent of the ruined Colosseum in Rome.
Tiers of spectators are seated around the walls, all higher than Human Dave should be able to jump.
There is a calm hush as Human Dave is brought out, and another voice announces his presence.
Takarian Announcer: "Gentle-beings and noble-bloods, welcome. Today, we have a wonderful new event for you all. An Alora, but not just any Alora. This one was recently found in an escape pod; trapped in stasis with an apex predator. A fine specimen; in good fighting condition, and our new challenger for the Champion's position!"
Polite applause fills the cavernous room, followed by silence as the announcer calls for quiet.
TA: "And his opponent; from the dreaded deathworld of Sartellia, and our Champion; the Or'uk, Gorr!"
Wild applause fills the arena, as a large doorway open on the other side of the arena, and out steps a very large sentient.
With a dull grey coloured skin, rippling muscles atop a humanoid form; sharp, beady eyes, and tusks jutting out of its mouth, it looks at Human Dave, and begins to laugh.
Or'uk Gorr: "THIS IS THE BEST YOU COULD FIND?! I WILL TEAR THE ALORA LIMB FROM LIMB!"
Human Dave's eye twitches, and yells back in response.
HD: "I'M NOT A FUCKING ALORA!"
A stunned silence follows, as the audience are shocked at Human Dave speaking.
TA: "... how peculiar. An Alora that speaks. Well, that will add to his price, if he survives."
OG: "I CARE NOT IF IT SPEAKS. I ONLY CARE IF IT WILL FIGHT!"
The applause starts again, and yelling starts for the fight to begin.
HD: "I don't suppose there's any way out of this where I don't have to fight?"
Gorr laughs aloud again.
OG: "THEN YOU DIE!"
Gorr charges at Human Dave, a manic expression of glee on his face.
HD: "... brilliant."
Human Dave jumps to his side, avoiding the charging Or'uk, and takes stock of his situation.
HD, to himself: "Downsides - still naked, no weapons, and no one on my side. Upside - he's got no weapons either."
Human Dave remains calm in the face of danger.
HD: "Not the worst situation I've been in."
Gorr glares at Human Dave, and beats his chest with a meaty fist.
OG: "STAND AND FIGHT!"
HD: "Not bloody likely. I'm not stupid enough to stand still and let you beat me to a pulp; not when I can just avoid getting hit."
OG: "COWARD!"
HD: "We're not even in the same weight class! You're almost double my height, and look like you could bench-press a fucking elephant!"
OG: "EXCUSES!"
HD: "Then give me a weapon. I'll make this a fight you'll never forget!"
The audience boost and jeers at Human Dave's words, calling him a weakling, and a coward.
Gorr looks out at a raised dais in the audience, where a monstrosity is seated.
Under the light where it is seated, the monstrosity is visible to Human Dave, and he recoils in disgust once he spots it.
The creature's head resembles a cephalopod, if it were attached to a gorilla's body.
Long tentacles twitched and curled in amusement, and its posture is relaxed, as if the fight before it was inconsequential.
The creature spoke, and Human Dave recognises the voice to be the same one that had said it would buy him if he won the fight.
Unknown Monstrosity: "If the Alora wants a weapon, we will give him one!"
A cheer rings out throughout the audience, and a large number of objects fall into the arena.
Many different types of weapons rain onto the grounds, many of which come dangerously close to hitting Human Dave.
Human Dave grabs one that looks like a sword, but the blade splits off into two directions.
Gorr grabs some kind of club made of wood, covered in suspiciously coloured stains.
Human Dave charges at Gorr, who laughs out loud.
OG: "NOW YOU SHOW BRAVERY! IT DOES NOT MATTER! YOU WILL STILL DIE!"
Gorr swings his club at Human Dave, who dives to the side, and swings his weapon at Gorr's outstretched arm.
The weapon cuts Gorr's atm, but the cut is shallow, and only serves to annoy the Or'uk.
HD: "First blood is mine, Or'uk."
Gorr roars in anger, and charges again, swinging his weapon wildly in frustration.
Human Dave watches Gorr closely, and after a particularly large swing, lines up his shot, and throws the sword at Gorr's chest.
One of the swords' tips pierces Gorr's leg, and he drops to the ground, clutching the injured limb, but still swinging the club with his other arm.
The audience launches out in loud boos and jeering at the sight of their champion injured and bleeding.
Human Dave grabs another weapon; this time, a two-pronged spear, and bats away Gorr's half-hearted attempts at attacking him with a swing of the weapon.
Human Dave levels the tips of the spear at Gorr's neck.
HD: "Yield."
Louder booing and jeering ring out in the arena.
Human Dave inches the tips closer, so that they are now in contact with Gorr's throat.
HD: "Yield!"
OG: "I WILL NOT! KILL ME!"
HD: "Why do you think I'm offering you the option? I don't want to kill you. I just want to go home!"
OG: "I HAVE LOST! I WILL DIE, EITHER NOW, AT YOUR HANDS, OR LATER AT THEIRS!"
Gorr gestures at the monstrosity, who watches with amusement at the sudden turn of events.
Human Dave turns to the audience, and his voice booms out through the arena as the jeering stops.
HD: "I HAVE BESTED YOUR CHAMPION! WHICH NOW MAKES ME YOUR NEW CHAMPION! AND I CHOOSE NOT TO KILL GORR, SO THAT HE HAS THE CHANCE TO TAKE IT BACK FROM ME!"
Human Dave turns back to Gorr, a complicated expression on his face.
HD: "I've done the only thing I can think of to save you. Don't waste it."
Human Dave walks back towards the entryway that he came through into the arena.
Gorr staggers to his feet, and charges at Human Dave again, screaming in pain with every step.
OG: "ONLY ONE LEAVES ALIVE!"
Human Dave sighs, anchors the butt of the spear into the ground, and waits for Gorr to reach him.
Gorr doesn't notice what Human Dave has done, and continues to charge, reaching him in mere moments, and swings his fist down to crush Human Dave.
Human Dave waits until the last moment to jump back, as the tips of the spear penetrate Gorr's chest, and with the speed that Gorr is moving, forces the spearheads deeper into his chest, and bursts out of his back.
Gorr looks down at the weapon sticking him through, and then looks up at Human Dave.
HD: "I'm sorry. I didn't want this to happen."
Gorr laughs weakly, as purple blood spurts out of his mouth.
OG: "Good fight, Alora."
Gorr slides down to his knees, and falls to his side; the spear snapping under the weight of his body.
HD: "... I'm not an Alora."
Raucous applause and cheering suddenly fill the arena, as the announcer yells over the noise.
TA: "AND THE ALORA BESTS THE CHAMPION! I NOW INTRODUCE TO ALL THE NEW CHAMPION OF THE ARENA!"
Human Dave ignores it all, and waits for the entranceway to open so he can leave.
The monstrosity watches Human Dave with rapt attention; his tentacles writhing and twitching madly.
First
Previous

Hi ladies...I hope you are enjoying this lovely Friday Night Do you like receiving great oral relief?? If the answer is yes, then we could meet up sometime tonight if it suits.. I'm 50, Husky Black Male I'm feeling a little frisky and would love to eat some sexy lady to relieve my stress We can make this happen in a hotel or in my truck if you like...it's got a comfortable seat and tinted rear windows We can chat for a while first so we are comfortable with each other or if you would like to explore your wild Sexxxy side we can go to a adult theater or swinger lounge Looking forward to hearing from you....! I Love All Types Of Women so don't be shy your height, weight, race, is not an issue Send your pics and i will do the same If you're Smart you can hit the cell AteTreTooFoAteNinaNinaNinaSevSev

Depending on the local charter and ordinance, Texas Law affirms the call of runoff elections.
If no candidate seeking elected office in Fort Worth or Tarrant County in an election with more than two people gets over 50% of votes cast, the two candidates with the highest number of votes in the General Election ( Voters cast ballots that decided most all races on May 6), those candidates proceed to runoff elections.
Voters may return - or appear- to vote in the runoff election for whomever they choose.
If you didn't vote on May 6, you can still vote in the runoff election.
If you are a Democrat, Green, Libertarian, Republican, or affiliate with no party at all, you can vote in the runoff election, if you live in the district / place.
If you are wondering:
I live in Fort Worth. Can I vote in a runoff election?
Find out using the link above.
In Fort Worth, District 11 is the sole Fort Worth City Council Seat in a runoff.
In Fort Worth, Tarrant County College Board, Place Four is the sole seat in a runoff.
In Fort Worth, Fort Worth Independent School District, Trustee, Place 11 is the sole seat in a runoff.
It is free to vote; There is no cost.
Runoff elections - usually - have low turnout. If you think your vote doesn't matter, you might be right in most all or some cases.In a runoff election, your vote is the most powerful of all: You are the rarest among a rare bird.
No matter who you support, if you are able to vote, you may cast a ballot from 7am-7pm.
Texas Law protects your right to vote.
If you believe you are being denied the right to lawfully vote, you can call the non-partisan voter hotline at 1-866-OUR-VOTE
Edit: One letter: a One space.

I’m so happy with my new wheelchair! I got a bunch of bags to attach to it. I have two that can go under the seat, three that can attach to different parts of the frame, a backpack, and a pocket in my seat cushion and in my backrest for storage. I also have a hook to attach one extra bag or my suitcase if I want to. I got them all with long involved trips in mind.
I was so excited but then I realized… Omg how will I handle airport security with so many bags? What do you guys do? Do you remove all attached bags and put them through the conveyor belt? Minimize the number of bags during the airport part of your journey? Just curious if you have any tips :).

I got tickets in section 122, but I don't see that on the arena seating chart. I'm confused. Is it a temporary structure to make more seats?

Does anyone know how tickets will work at Huntington Bank Pavilion? I’ve been there before but only to smaller shows and never sold out. Will GA be standing or all seated? Will they have the lawn open as part of GA? GA tickets are also numbers GA1, GA2, ect.
Does anyone know what the scene is gonna be like? Thanks!

Chapter 2: Notebooks
​
It didn’t take Mizu long to memorize everybody’s names at the Armed Detective Agency. She got to know each of them quite well, though, the more she learned about Dazai, the more concerned she became.
This morning, for example, Mizu walked into the office to find Dazai sitting on a desk with headphones on, singing along to a song while everybody else was working. He didn’t seem to care that everybody could hear his singing, which, Mizu had to admit, wasn’t too bad. What really concerned her were the lyrics.
“You can’t do a double suicide all by yourself.”
“What is he singing?” Mizu asked, looking around at the other Agency members.
“Don’t question it,” Kunikida replied, looking rather irritated at the noise Dazai was creating as he loudly burst into the next line.
“DON’T FORGET to grab a friend! DOUBLE SUICIDE!”
Kunikida pinched the skin between his eyebrows and closed his eyes. “If he doesn’t shut up…” He sighed with frustration and opened his eyes, looking at Mizu. “Anyway, you’re going on your first job today. You need some hands-on training so you’ll be accompanying Ranpo to see how he does things.”
“Actually, I think Ranpo is already gone,” said Tanizaki, looking up from his desk.
Kunikida sighed. It was almost as if Mizu could see an invisible meter floating above his head that kept filling up with every tiny frustration until he inevitably exploded. Mizu hoped she wasn’t there when that happened.
“Atsushi, will you take Mizu with you today?”
Atsushi looked up from his desk with an apologetic expression. “Sorry, Kunikida. I actually don’t have any jobs outside the office today.”
The invisible meter went higher. “Kyouka? Tanizaki? Kenji?”
“I have a job outside the office today,” Dazai volunteered. “I’d be happy to train our rookie!”
"No," Kunikida stated flatly.
“Oh, come on! I’m a very good teacher.”
“I’m not subjecting our new recruit to your nonsense all day.”
Kenji joined the conversation. “I think you two are the only ones with jobs outside the office today. Dazai might actually be the best choice.”
There goes the invisible meter again. Kunikida stood from his desk, his notebook making a loud noise as he shut it and slid it into his shirt pocket. “Fine. Mizu, you’ll be accompanying me today.” He refused to allow Dazai to be the new girl’s instructor when that man barely did his job to begin with. “As long as you follow my lead, this shouldn’t affect my schedule.”
Mizu wasn’t particularly excited to work with Kunikida. She really didn’t want to be on a job with him when his invisible meter hit its max. “What’s the job?”
“We’re looking for a missing person. A woman reported her husband not arriving home or at his workplace the last two days with no response on his phone.”
Mizu nodded and pulled out a notebook from the crossbody purse she was wearing. She began writing down the details of the case.
“She’s really into this,” said Dazai. “With that much love for notebooks, she might be your type, Kunikida.” He laughed.
Kunikida turned red. “Shut up, Dazai!”
Mizu looked up from her notebook at Dazai’s words and turned pink. “It’s not wise to date coworkers. You shouldn’t suggest that.”
Dazai laughed. “She even sounds like you, Kunikida.”
Mizu could see a vein popping in Kunikida’s forehead. The invisible meter is reaching its limit, she thought. He could explode at any moment. Mizu decided to try to diffuse the situation. “We should get going. You said you wanted to stick to your schedule, right?”
Kunikida sighed, turning his back on a snickering Dazai. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Kunikida explained the case more as him and Mizu walked down the staircase to the exit of the Armed Detective Agency. “The man we’re looking for frequents a certain cafe a few blocks from here so we’ll interview the employees and ask if any of them have seen him since his disappearance or if they’ve noticed anything odd about him leading up to it.”
“Perhaps he met up with people at this cafe. Those people could also lead us to clues.”
“You’re right.”
Mizu opened her notebook again and began writing a list of questions to ask the employees at the cafe.
“Do you carry one everywhere as well?” Kunikida asked.
Mizu nodded as she finished writing and slid the notebook back into her bag. “I do. A notebook is a very useful tool, even if it has nothing to do with one’s ability like yours does.”
“It is. Do you carry something for your ability?”
“I do.” Mizu reached into her bag and pulled out a water bottle. “Water manipulation is a useless ability without the presence of water. It’s best to keep this with me for emergencies.”
“That’s smart.” Kunikida replied as they exited the building and started down the street.
“Do you keep your name and number in your notebook so, if you ever lose it, it can be returned to you?”
Kunikida paused. “I never thought to do that, actually.” He immediately opened his notebook and scribbled his information on the inner cover. “Thank you for the idea.”
Mizu smiled. “Of course.” She liked talking to Kunikida. He seemed to be a reasonable person with good morals and standards. She admired that.
The two of them arrived outside the cafe and Kunikida held the door for Mizu who blushed slightly but made sure he didn’t see it as she thanked him and entered. It was a cute cafe, fully decorated with fake Sakura blossoms hanging from the ceiling.
It didn’t seem particularly busy so they made their way to the counter and asked to speak with some of the employees. The two of them spent a long time asking a list of questions to each employee there but nobody had any useful information on the missing man, nor had any of them seen him since the date he first went missing.
Mizu sighed as the last employee finished answering the questions and went back to work. “This got us nowhere.”
“I was expecting to find something to go on, even something small.” Kunikida replied.
“I’m going to get a coffee before we leave.” Mizu stood from the table and went over to the counter to order. A few minutes later, she met Kunikida at the door. “You’re not getting anything?”
“I’m okay,” he replied as they left the cafe. Kunikida decided to go back to the Agency and check the file for the case to see if there were any more leads to follow. Mizu followed him and was almost back to the Agency when she heard her phone go off. She reached into her bag and saw a text from an unknown number: I found your notebook.
Mizu quickly checked her bag. “Oh no.” She had left her notebook at the table when she went to order and never went back for it. She silently scolded herself for such a mistake. “Kunikida, I’ll be right back. I left my notebook at the cafe.”
“Oh, that’s an important thing to remember. Alright. I’ll meet you back at the Agency.”
Mizu waved bye to Kunikida as she rushed back to the cafe. She went to the front desk. “Excuse me, I left a notebook here.”
One of the employees looked over at her. “Nobody’s turned it in. Maybe check where you left it.”
Mizu was confused. She looked back over at the table she had been seated at but her notebook was gone. Someone had clearly found it or she never would have gotten that text. Why didn’t they turn it in at the front desk? That seemed like the logical thing to do.
Mizu heard her phone go off again and checked it. Another text glowed on her screen. I’m outside.
Mizu turned around, looking out the window of the cafe. The sidewalks were flooded with people going to and fro. Which one of them had her notebook? She stepped outside and heard her phone ring again. This time, an eerie feeling crept up her spine as she read the words: I can see you.
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Who do you think has Mizu's notebook? Who do you think she'll be shipped with?

Found a single ticket for this section on StubHub. On there it’s a suite ticket, but the seller could have always made a mistake, 204 without the b is a regular section, which I find out about too late
When looking online about half of the seating charts show it as a regular section and the other half show it as a suite. Maybe it’s the club seat section? There really isn’t much information about it online
Anyways the price isn’t great but I figure if it’s really a suite that’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, plus there are some parking and entrance perks, which again if the seller made a mistake I’d find out too late, and I’m not keeping my hopes up that StubHub support will actually help me out
So…anyone have any idea?

Would it be worth it to watch the main card at the movie theaters? I checked today how many people have bought tickets and only one seat has been bought. Ticket is 25$.