TL;DR: I refused to give my roommate my car to get to his sister's wedding because he always returns it with dents and scratches, and now he won't be able to arrange for transportation.
Hey everyone, I'm facing a moral dilemma regarding my roommate, Mark (26M), and I could really use some outside perspective.
About two weeks ago, Mark asked if he could borrow my car for his sister's wedding, which is happening out of town. Initially, I agreed because I understand how important this event is for him and his family.
However, here's where things get complex: I've let Mark borrow my car in the past, and it's come back with scratches, dings, and once even a dent! Despite this, I've always covered the repair costs and tried to be understanding.
Adding to my dilemma, last weekend, I lent him the car for another trip, and it came back with more scratches and a dent. This made me really anxious about lending it to him again for such an important event.
I've been torn between wanting to help Mark out for his sister's wedding and protecting my car, which has been damaged multiple times before. I know he needs the car for the wedding, but I also feel like I'm being taken advantage of.
I hesitated to retract my offer because I didn't want to let him down, but as the wedding draws closer, my anxiety about my car's condition grows stronger.
Mark got upset when I brought up my concerns, accusing me of going back on my word and letting him down when he needed help the most. Now, he's giving me the silent treatment, and I can't help but feel guilty.
Am I the asshole for feeling conflicted about lending him my car, or is it understandable given the circumstances?

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Grey Mirror Polished Brass Keyboard with Custom CNC Brass Keycaps

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Hi,
I see references here and in dashcam videos to insurance scams and for the life of me, I can't figure it out.
The scammers seem to be intentionally getting into accidents to . . . what? Collect an insurance payout? For example, if a scammer managed to get rear-ended, and the accident caused a thousand dollars worth of damage to their car, they'd get . . . a thousand dollars, right? And then they'd pay the body shop that $1000, and profit nothing from the whole experience.
Or if they claimed an injury, but the hospital found nothing, they'd get, what, again, the cost of an ER visit?
No insurance company is just going to roll over and write a huge check for nothing. "Oh, you got a dent, so here's a check for a new car." Or "you got a scratch, so here's a million dollars."
What am I missing? Please help me understand. Thanks!

I [M26], have suddenly been getting terribly itchy all over my body whenever I start getting hot (mainly during mild-moderate exercise, even including doing chores/cleaning/etc.). I don't have any official diagnoses, but from what I've researched, it seems to align mostly with cholinergic uticaria/miliaria. I don't really notice any physical/visual symptoms (bumps/rashes); there may be some mild redness, but it may just be from me scratching there. But the one thing that's not making sense is that it's coming out of no where/hasn't happened to me before.
The first time in my life I noticed this was last year when I was thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. In the beginning of the days when I would start hiking, I'd get itchy all over, but it would eventually subside within a half-hour or so, and it mostly went away after a month or so. After I finished the trail, it was fall/winter, and I would occasionally still get the itching whenever I'm inside being active/doing chores, but it wasn't that severe.
But its been getting WAY worse. Maybe it's due to warmer weather (I live in PA, USA). But its never been nearly this bad before. Whenever I get even remotely warm, I get intensely prickly/itchy all over.
This is probably unrelated, but I did (maybe still do) have some sort of fungal skin condition. It was slightly dark pigmentation in my groin region, but it's entirely asymptomatic. It's come and gone over the past years but it was never enough for me to go get it looked at.
M26, ~160 lbs, 5'8", Caucasian, NKA, 30mg Adderall/day (prescribed for ADHD), and occasional Kratom. Taking anti-histamines (pills/creams) may or may not help (I'm not really sure), but its still not enough for me to actually go outside and exercise/do the things I want to do. I used to play baseball with friends every week, but now I have to stay home because it would be unbearable.

File Sequence: <Beginning> -First Contact[10]- -Conclusion- <Legends>
_______________________________
Secret Files: <CoS[1]> -Cos[2]-
Note: Figured it would be "lore-flexible'' to divide the "Tree" into 3 branches; Legends(WP/Side stories that might not be canon), Archives(Main safe route), and Secret Files(Major Spoilers). Also, no intro quotes this time, sorry, i decided to make them only for "serious" chapters.(Besides, i wrote like 20 already.) Also, Lazarus is not around due to internet issues, so, *tsk* im doing it all alone, again...
Oh yeah, I also must congratulate myself with my last chapter. Forget about not receiving any help requests, we managed to remain on 0 comments and -1(if i remove mine) upvotes. And more than 6k people saw the post. Unbelievable... Thats the record! Of lowest score ever possible. You can't repeat it on HFY subreddit, or probably ANY subreddit with at least 2000 followers for that matter. Even if you tried to do so on purpose... Should i drop the writing for real this time? I think im cursed...
...
...
...

Return Of Vanquished

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
/Connected.
/Mellator Matrix Mind.
/SubUnit: AVA-9252002
/Memory Transmission Subject: Woorrrl, emperor of Bloboid empire. Former Grand Admiral of First Blockade of Intergalactic Alliance. Current Chancellor of Intergalactic Senate.
/Time-space: 9 rotations from Black Battle.
/Location: On the way to Gh'urrl.
/Sequence Code: .- .-- ..- -- .- -- -.- --.. -- -... .-
/Transmission in 3...2...1...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
We were quiet.
All of us.
Yes, just like that monsters, "Shaders"...
Entire fleet crew was traveling back home, without dropping a word to one another. Of course, as there was really nothing to talk about to begin with. We just blankly looked at our screens and panels, or even freezing our minds at times, looking into one spot.
Around 80 percent of our "first strike" and observation fleet was destroyed. Their remains, or "corpses", as our warrior race likes to name them, was drifting back there, way on the edge of the dead space quadrants. And we probably won't be able to retrieve any of them at all, like we tend to do with broken down or dismantled equipment...
Our remaining ships wasn't in their "blooming" stage either. Some had broken wings, not fully functioning FTL drives and gears, unstable shields that consumed more energy while trying to stabilize themselves and ultimately failing by simply popping due to unbalanced particle voltage, missing few components here and there, and also had empty pockets of hatches, where our "life-probe's" supposed to be stored. Well, thats due to the fact that some of them were deactivated in that skirmish or used to rescue our crew.
Now we were flying across the expanse of space, back to square one(both literally and figuratively), where it all started. Most of our dining and rest rooms were now overcrowded. Since the most of our Escorting Fleets were obliterated, their helmsmen and crew now was aboard the Mothership, cleaning the deck from all this mess or fixing and repairing systems. And oh holy pores, there was things to repair...
The "Scout Fist" alone had 90 percent of it's weapons broken down and melted. It's main turrets were burnt and smoked with fifty or so shades of gray, showing the complete combat incapacity. Mothership's main shield generator occasionally short-wired, making it look like a giant broken lightbulb, or billboard with electricity problems. Only thing that kept us alive is the hull itself, that, thankfully, was only scratched and "drawn" over with that constant laser beams. I really wonder how big of a repairment fees the Alliance will have to pay for all of this...
As for me? I just stood, (well, not really as these black snipers somehow managed to disable most of our gravitational panels as well so we been half walking-half hovering from now on) on the main deck, surrounded with my fellow generals as well as unused engineers on standby. We have to admit, going straight to the enemy was not the wisest idea, and it will cost us. A lot. I doubted that there could be a possible way to confront them. In fact, after seeing how these "Dark Warriors" fought, any direct assault would end up in their favor, leaving us at their mercy. I didn't know what are we going to do now. Just didn't...
The signal light on the panel blinked, indicating the incoming call. I tiredly waved my manipulator and one of the Ewwlian workers, that was not even supposed to be on this ship, nodded and patched it through.
After a longer than usual static, the main screen finally lit up, revealing the all known war hero, Mikik (despite his firm stance, it was a little awkward to loot at as two Tamlite spiders, one Crickzuk praying mantis, and one Shuulma octopus in their suits with "Q" symbol on their uniform tried to fix one of the gravity panels, blowtorching the floor behind his back).
"Greetings, Your Highness..." He tiredly hissed.
"Likewise, Fleetmaster." I replied.
"I'm rather glad to notify that most of our FTL drives have been stabilised and we can increase our speeds at 40 percent."
"Good" i sighed, rubbing my cuirasses below my metal suit "Reroute energy in main engines and increase the collider particles acceleration."
"Yes, Your Highness..." He nodded then turned to his(and not) crew " Activate FTL drives!" With echoes of "Aye aye sir!" and feet (or appendages for some) stamping, the crew trotted to the engines to activate them to their max. With buzzing of hundreds remaining engines, ships are now flew with their "normal" sub-light speeds, cutting the fabric of space even more than before.
We all just took our seats (or fixated the exoskeleton to the floor in my case). Mikik took a sip from his favorite drink and exhaled:
"Finally... I wonder, what we do now?"
"So do i..." i answered. "What i can say for sure however, is that R'ikitiks lost their status of "Strongest warriors in the galaxy", no offence [gentlemen]..."
"None taken." General lizards waved back and gritted their teeth, realizing the full weight of shame in that statement.
"True, true..." Fleetmaster Mikik sighed. "I can't even imagine that walk of shame when we will tell the senate that our 'Scout Fist' failed. Oh, and the panic of society, it's going to be a nightmare..."
"Yeah, but we can't help but tell them." I growled "Everyone must know how much of a danger these "Shaders" possess. We must unite like never before, if we want our people to be safe." I raised my manipulators in determination.
**********
Attention to all personnel. We will arrive in Lura Twins system in half a suuta. Get ready.
**********
Suddenly was announced from main intercom by the tech team.
"Oh well, here we go..." I replied.
When we finally entered the system, i entered the observatory room and opened the main telescope to see one of these twins. What i saw however shocked me to my cores. There wasn't two tropical worlds with all their sands and beach water that most of xenos so liked to swim in. What there was instead is two black spheres with red outlines. The oceans was not even visible. Entire landscape was complete darkness. The center of the planet looked like a red eye, rings of glowing lights surrounded the sides. It looked like that rings you see on the stump of the tree, or cırcles of streets in the center of megapolis. It looked like some eldrich abomination consumed and terraformed it...
Once i shakingly shifted my visors from it, i saw even more horrifying picture; Hundreds, no, thousands of darker than black ellipsoids with different sizes were rotating around it, constructing the rings with their bodies.
Suddenly, few dozen of them flew directly to "Scout Fist". They ignored any fire from the support fleets, their ability to dodge every shot made them look twice as menacing. When they reached the Mothership, they have formed the the ring on semi-perpendicular diagonal from its axes around it, spinning in that slow and scary manner. It did not took long enough as all of our systems roared with alarms from incoming laser rain. We were doomed. For sure this time.
Now the atmosphere depressure alarms joined the party as the giant hole was blown straight in the middle of the main deck, sucking in all of ship's crew members. I felt that my exoskeleton too, was losing its posture and slowly started to slide to that breach.
Oh no...
I quickly grabbed one of the panel slabs and tried my best to hold on it. Unfrotunately, the grounding plates that it was installed on, slowly started to come off of its pocket. Just a few more [seconds] and it will be all gone. One last loud metal gritting and i flew base forward in that breach along with that slab i was holding on, spinning like a propeller in the void of open space.
This. Cannot. BE!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
/[Dream] class memory sequence ended.
/Returning to original sequence.
/Transmission in 3...2...1...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I woke up cold like the side of a freezer. With nearly a roar i jumped from my socket, making a flip, and ended up upside down on the ceiling, clinging to the dim spotlight like a [tick].
"Are you okay?" I heard one of the General R'ikitiks asked as the rest of them looked at me from their rest bunks, woken from all the noise i made.
"I'm fine. It was just a nightmare, sorry..." i guiltily exhaled, looking at the dents on the metal i made with my manipulators. Then i jolted from abrupt and yet so familiar intercom announcment:
************
Attention to all personnel. We will arrive in Lura Twins system in half a suuta. Get ready.
************
"Okay, maybe not!" I exclaimed and quickly hovered(Yes, gravity panels was still an issue) from the cabin.
While i could not believe that this is possible, i still wanted to make sure it was just a stupid dream and not some sort of "forecast". I tried my best to move in this zero gravity and swimmed in the corridors like a [jellyfish] retracting my appendages on the walls and propulsing forward. When i managed to get to the main observation compartment, i rushed to the main telescope, pushing aside the navigation specialist before he even could say "Your Highness?!". When i looked trough it, for real this time, i saw that familiar sand-planet, with all it's glory of that cloud clusters, some craters and that famous river on the equator.
What a relief.
"S-sir?"
I looked at the source of meowling, and saw one of the most recognizable Ewwlians in my fleet, Captain Moor. He stood(as much as one could with gravi-panels working only with 20% output) among the navigation team members, with ears slightly folded on the back of his head. One would think that he supposed to be on one of that drone-carrier frigates, but guess what? Yes, it was abandoned and blew up in the dead space as well. In fact two thirds of Mothership itself was disconnected and left behind as it was broken down and became a dead weight on our engines and energy routes. We were only hanging on the remaining disc of one third of it's former glory, crowding it from the toilets to rest rooms.
"Im fine." i camly replied "Well, not completely but everything is better than it could be..."
The concerns slowly faded away from his muzzle and ears flip back up. Then he asked me once again, flicking his tail:
" E-excuse me sir, shouldn't we start to prepare for the landing?"
"Oh, oh right!" i snapped, remebering all of the duties i have to perform on this now one-wreck-of-a-ship. "Tell everyone to gather on main deck, we need to contact the Lyra-1."
He saluted me with firm tail swing and trotted back in the corridors.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
/Time-skip: {20 human minutes}
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
It was actually painfully long to properly enter the orbit of this planet. Thats due to the fact that our non-FTL thrusters was kinda in "shambles" as well. So here were are, nearly drifting to this choke-point. And, as all strategically important things, it was well defended. Why it's been pointed out? Thats because entire armada came to meet the remains of our expedition.
When these ships swarmed us, we got an immediate signal, hailing us. With my manipulator wave, it was patched through. On the screen was an wery familiar member of molluscoid species:
"What is the meaning of this?! The 'Scout Fist' wasn't supposed to return! Why more than the half of it is GONE?!" the octopus on the other side of the screen exclaimed. " Also my radars only scans like twenty destroyers, where are the remaining, like, five hundred of them?!"
"Calm down Bluufo..." i tiredly responded. " It's gonna be a wery, WERY, long story..."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
/Memory transmission ended.
/Sequence Code: .. --.. -- ..- .-- --.. -- .--. --.- .-.. .-.. -- ...-
/Disconnection...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++

​
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https://preview.redd.it/k1dkm6gvx9xc1.png?width=924&format=png&auto=webp&s=b0e18c5341ab01988b22fcfa21eee7e5568afc59
I’m trapped. I can hear that thing lumbering through the hallway. My God, what the hell is it?The soft scratching of my pencil sounds deafening in the quiet of this tiny closet. I’m almost certainly gonna die in this place. I just hope someone can find this, maybe it will do some good. Or maybe it already doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how long I have until that wheezing thing finds me. Oh Jesus, or that grey stuff might ooze under the door and dissolve me. Oh my God! What it did to Benny, Sammy, Jonesy and Donald! To all of them! Even if I don’t survive, the world needs to be warned!
Long story short, I was a cop but I got shot in the head. The doctors said I was lucky, that it went straight through without hitting anything vital. However, I still needed three steel plates to hold my skull together. Also ended up with permanent tremors in my right hand and a nasty scar just under my eye. So, it’s no surprise that my cop career didn’t thrive. Just a year later I was a “retired” 45-year-old cop, living off scraps. After a few months, I started to get desperate for work. One evening while out with my friend, Graham, he mentioned something about some private research institute in the Mojave Desert. “What, are they still blowing A-bombs out there?” I scoffed, eyebrows arched with bemused incredulity. Graham stared down at his beer, “Not sure what the hell they do. But they pay super well, so who cares,” he took a long sip of beer, foam clinging to his lips, “I think it would be a good fit for you”.
Turns out this facility, and it really is known as the “Facility”, was located in the middle of nowhere. When I looked it up I couldn’t find any information at all. Later that week I called the number that Graham had scrawled down for me on a beer stained napkin. My right hand wasn’t good with delicate tasks so when I dialed the number I had to use my left hand. The phone rang twice before a metallic voice answered and said to hold for an operator. After a few seconds of muted elevator music, I spoke to a soft voiced woman who told me my skill set was perfect for their current vacancy: a security management position. Her voice was soothing, “Your credentials are excellent. If you like I can fax some forms and a draft contract over, and we can pay for you to fly on up to see us in person. I’m certain you’ll get offered the job.”
She was right. One flight and several NDAs later, I was employed again! By the time I started my new job I realized I had no idea what research went on down here. During the interviews my duties as a security manager had been discussed but any mention of their actual research interests had been carefully omitted. On my first day I asked others about the nature of the Facility’s research, but no one had any interest. “Just stick to your contract. No point in rockin’ the boat,” my new boss, Sammy, said to me curtly. I’ve not discussed it since.
The part of the Facility which I managed was section B.15. This area was located several hundred feet below the sun scorched surface of the Mojave Desert. It comprised many green corridors peppered with tall wide doors made from dark, stainless steel. The rooms inside were large and sterile. Of course, whether or not we wanted to know the nature of the research, after patrolling some of the research labs for weeks, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the scientists were mostly archeologists. Or maybe paleontologists. I often found different objects lying around in various states of cleanliness. Some looked like ancient amphoras, or large stone bird baths or even fossilized remains. Others were less identifiable: a melted lump of some glimmering metal or large chunks of a glass-like material. I found this all extremely curious because, as far as I knew, the Mojave Desert didn’t have much in the way of ancient architecture. At least of any ancient civilization that I know.
As the months went by I started to get friendly with the other guards, most of them ex-cops too, and we played cards and drank Irish coffee in the evenings. My two main colleagues consisted of a jovial, short man with orange hair named Jonesy and a much older much grumpier and much balder man, Donald. They were good men and we had a lot of laughs together. My stomach twists when I think about where they are now. Though I grew fonder of my fellow guards, I found myself developing a severe dislike for the researchers. Most of them were mean and arrogant. The only scientist my security buddies liked was a scrawny guy named Benny. Our favorite thing about Benny was that he never talked about his work.
It was earlier, at 1400h, when all the scientists were running from their rooms. They must have received some message a few minutes before and we watched them from the surveillance monitors as they got all excited, their lab coats flapping and flowing as they made for the stairs. Soon after this, the large red landline phone near my desk began to ring. Expecting the call, I picked up the receiver before the first ring finished, “Hey boss, what’s all the excitement about?” Sammy’s voice was uncharacteristically anxious, “The diggers have found a friggin’ huge object out here! The biggest thing they’ve ever dug up. They want to bring it to B.15 so I need you to organize the logistics and security”. My brow furrowed, “I guess it’s too big for the main entrance? Maybe we could bring it in via the big doors of the auxiliary hangar?” she grunted with agreement, “Yea, we’ll have to improvise a bit but should be manageable. I’ll get some of the boys from B.10 and B.14 to help you out.” I nodded, “Thanks, see you soon”
Donald, Jonesy, some interns and I had coffee in the office and called the guards at the hangar doors to arrange clearance. About an hour later we met the guards from B.10. and B.14, together we climbed the many stairs to the hangar and waited for the cargo to arrive. The massive metal hangar doors had been opened, which was rare. What was more irregular was that nearly every staff member from sections B.09 to B.18 were all gathered together in a silent knot of people. Despite the silence the air sizzled with anticipation, as well as the searing heat. I stood transfixed from curiosity, waiting in the shade of the doorway as the relentless sun beat down outside. I squinted. In the distance I saw a black speck grow larger against the bright blue sky. Slowly it took the form of a helicopter with an enormous rectangular shaped mass dangling below it.
Within less than a minute the helicopter made its cacophonous approach toward the hangar and gently lowered the object onto a wide wooden scaffold. I barked orders and signed forms as the guards rushed about. The air was blaring with the sound of helicopter blades and sand rocketed into my face, forcing me to splutter. “Alright, let’s get this thing processed!” I yelled over the sound of the helicopter as its engines powered down. My colleagues and I wiped dirt from our faces. Sammy emerged swiftly from the chopper and shook my hand. Her hair was in its characteristic librarian-bun but her eyes were glassy. Had she been drinking? We quickly reviewed the paper work she gave me and then she made her way back downstairs to her office in section B.1. She was keen to get away for some reason.
As my colleagues cleared away most of the staff and the excitement died down I was finally able to take a moment to inspect the object. It had been lowered onto a wooden scaffold fitted with wheels and had been pushed slowly into the center of the hangar. The few aircraft in this hangar were all currently under repairs, leaving plenty of space for the object.
The object was a wall. It was rectangular and about twenty-five feet long, ten feet thick and twelve feet high. The wall first appeared made from boring grey stone. I even remember thinking, “It’s not even that big”. However, when I looked closer it was, alive. I barely noticed the helicopter take off and leave as I saw the wall’s surface bubble. The hangar doors began to close as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A bead of sweat ran down my cheek and I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone far away calling my name. I felt a strange pressure around my head. A sudden invasive thought dug into my mind: throw yourself into the wall. I shuddered and held myself back despite the sudden strong desire. I heard the faint voice of Benny and crashed back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I found my nose an inch away from the wall. It radiated cold like an open freezer and it smelled like rotten clay. The surface of the wall simmered ever so slightly. It reminded me of the fizz of some grey effervescent medicine. I paled as I took a large step backward, “I.. uh, what is this?” I turned to face Benny who stood with another scientist. He glanced at her briefly before he approached the wall, “Honestly, we have no idea”.
I got Donald and Jonesy to help Benny transport the wall down to room 278B via the service elevator. Donald grumbled, “Guh, this thing smells like something my dog puked up”. Meanwhile Jonesy stared with eyes as large as saucers, “It looks so cool!” Once downstairs, I told Donald and Jonesy to take some forms to the admin department and I returned alone to my office to get some more coffee and file away the rest of the paperwork. I tried to put the strangeness of the wall out of my mind, but it had truly unnerved me. I felt so tired. As I sat at my desk facing the surveillance monitors I was unable to fight the force fusing my eyelids together.
I’ve been hungover a lot, but when I woke up at my desk I’d never felt quite so singularlyawful. My clothes were soaked with sweat and my whole body felt exhausted. My arms felt like molasses. My forehead throbbed and I was bruised. I also felt a weird pressure squeezing my head from all sides. I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes.
Then I froze.
A hand was lying motionless on the floor just behind the table at the center of the room. I leapt to my feet and rushed forward. I gasped from horror as I saw Donald lying there, his chest sliced to ribbons. Gallons of dark scarlet stained his blue uniform. His eyes stared up empty and terrified. Pallid and shaking I ran to my landline to call for backup immediately. As the receiver met my ear my stomach dropped into my feet.
The line was dead.
I was so confused. We had lots of fail safes to ensure communication remained enabled, but the line was dead and there was no sign of any response. I rushed back to the monitors. The cameras were all operating normally. I started to breathe heavily. I couldn’t see anyone. The corridors were green and bare. I looked at the clock. It was 1817h. I had slept for about two hours. But where was everyone? Where were the janitors? My heart was hammering in my chest and my head was throbbing. My eyes narrowed with a sudden thought. Where was that wall?
I searched for the wall and found it was back in the hangar! It sat upon the bare ground right by the massive doors. However, the doors were sealed. The wall itself looked different. It was absolutely enormous! Just over two times longer and taller and wider. Just then, I realized that the titanium blast doors had been sealed as well. My heart rate doubled as I noticed large dents, scorch marks and scratches all over the doors. The hangar floor was covered in blood. My God, I even saw a rocket-launcher lying blackened and fractured near the doors. What the hell had happened?
I spun my head to look at the security panel on the wall to my left. My heart, already racing, felt like it leapt out of my mouth. My eyes grew wide as I realized Donald must have activated a quarantine procedure. This meant that the entire Facility would be sealed airtight. The only way to open any doors now was from the outside. My God! Why had he done this? Where was everyone? Did I really sleep through all this? Where was Jonesy? I looked back at Donald, my heart still racing from seeing his dead eyes stare into mine. I sighed sadly and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now 1831h. I returned to the monitors and began to rewind the security footage.
Surveying the screens, I watched my past-self enter the security office at around 1600h. By 1610h I had passed-out on my chair, drool dangling from my mouth. “Ok, so let’s see where the wall was at that time. Should be room 278B.” I thought to myself aloud as I clicked on the button that displayed the footage of room 278B and the surrounding corridors. The screens were black as the footage loaded and I was about to hit the play button but hesitated. Did I really want to see this? I closed my eyes and took a few slow breaths. I have to know. I hit play.
The camera was located opposite the door giving a full view of the room. At first everything was normal. It was 1623h when they were unstrapping the wall. A loud popping sound was heard and the researchers spun around. The lights in the room dimmed and flickered. Suddenly something long and slimy exploded from the flesh of the wall. It wrapped around Benny and pulled him in. He screamed in terror as he vanished, his cries immediately silenced.
Without realizing it I was instantly on my feet, shaking my head in pure denial. My heart burst. What the hell was that? What the hell? What the hell? My head was full of static. I felt tears in my eyes as I watched guards and researchers rush into the room. The wall shimmered, it’s simmering surface began to boil and bubble and it grew a few inches higher. I saw it reshape itself so that intricately carved figures appeared on the wall’s edge. I leant in closer and gasped. One of those figures looked just like Benny, his mouth stretched into a permanent scream. The guards and researchers were horrified by what they saw. Suddenly, without warning, their body postures relaxed, their eyes grew glassy, and their arms fell slack at their sides. Those within the room moved as if sleepwalking. Some stayed still while others left the room. Brow furrowed from confusion and fear, my eyes swiveled to the footage of the corridors outside. The guards and researchers that had just exited 278B immediately began attacking and grappling those around them. I yelped as a vacant-eyed guard lazily shot another man in the leg. The thrall then dragged the wounded guard into room 278B. The mad guard held the wounded guard’s leg fast as he casually walked into the grey wall, pulling the struggling man in behind him. During this altercation I noticed Donald, he was hiding behind the corner of the corridor at the far end and was firing his gun at the thralls. He didn’t manage to hit anyone though. He then ran over to help a stray research intern to her feet and then they both ran down the corridor and out of view.
I could still hear the pleas for mercy as those who fell victim to the thralls were dragged into that horrifying wall. With every person it swallowed, the wall wriggled and grew. More ghastly decorations began to bloom on its surface, all of them made from the bones or likenesses of those absorbed. The bigger it got the stronger its psychic influence became until it reached everyone in the Facility. I looked on in horror as one by one, all janitors, researchers, guards, diggers, admin staff, everyone stopped what they were doing, mid conversation, their eyes emptying. The janitors dropped their mops and buckets. Researchers dropped precious materials and equipment without care, letting them smash to pieces. In unison, with vacant expressions, they moved toward room 278B. Among the horde of thralls, I saw Sammy and Jonesy, and so many others I knew. A guy who’d held the door for me once, a researcher who always slurped her coffee at lunch. Hundreds of people! What filled me with an unnamable dread was that I knew what was gonna happen. I knew what was coming. I tried to shout at the monitors, “Stop! Wait!” I grabbed the monitors and shook them with frustration.
A terror began to fill my stomach, deep and cold and aching. Suddenly I noticed Donald reappear on the screen. He was trying to hold back the intern he’d helped earlier, but it was useless. I saw Donald stare with incredulity as he sat defeated on the ground. Everyone else around him stumbled dreamily toward their doom. But Donald refused to give up. I saw him run from corridor to corridor, trying desperately to stop them. He threw chairs and tables in their way but they simply pushed them aside or jumped over them. I saw him run toward this office. I saw him enter, saw myself slumped on my chair still completely unconscious. I saw Donald try to shake me awake, he slapped me a few times and was yelling in frustration. He gave up with me eventually and ran over to activate the quarantine lockdown. I saw him tear down the hall back toward room 278B, pistol in hand.
As soon as Donald got close to 278B a long pale tendril burst through the door directly into his chest. The tentacle had a hooked end and it slashed him. I saw blood spurt out of him, saw him stumble and fall to the ground. However, he still managed to get a hold of his gun and fired multiple shots at the tendril. It writhed and flailed. Donald took this opportunity to climb to his feet. He grimaced and clasped his chest as crimson leaked to the floor. He moved back down the corridor. Eventually he got back to the office. He locked the door and, still fumbling with his keys, attempted to open the ammunitions cupboard. Before he could find the right key, he cursed and then collapsed. I cried out in frustration. That whole time I was completely useless!
My mind felt like static again for a few seconds. I couldn’t work out what my next move should be. A thought hit me hard. Why had Donald and I not been psychically affected by the wall? Everyone had been enslaved. Why not Donald? And me? My eyebrows shot up into my receding hairline with sudden realization. “Shit, the steel plates in my head!” And Donald had a steel plate in his skull too because of a rock-climbing accident he had in his 20s. When I got close to the wall, had it sensed my resistance? Had it tried to incapacitate me? If so, it meant the thing possesses sentience.
While I pondered this, I noticed some thralls re-strap the wall in room 278B. They transported it to the elevator and back up to the hangar. Once there, the thralls moved the wall off the scaffold onto the floor and began to beat heavily on the large metal doors with bare fists. Some even shot at the doors with their handguns. The ricochets killed a few of them but not one single person even noticed. Some of the guards even used a rocket launcher! I yelled with shock as they fired at deadly close range, lazily blowing themselves up, leaving the doors scorched. After this proved futile, the thralls all grew rigid. Next, they all formed a line in front of the wall and one shambling step after another, all the remaining employees were - assimilated. Even the dead and wounded were not spared. Those still alive carried the corpses of their fellow thralls into the wall.
It was 1735h when the last employee disappeared forever into the grey horror, and the wall expanded to its current size. Without warning, a large mass of twisted limbs emerged from the wall. I gasped from horror. Its silhouette was about seven feet tall and thin and stretched. It had too many legs and it didn’t appear to have a head. This thing lumbered over to the doors and began to strike them with a strength and ferocity found only in a starving polar bear. I could tell that the doors were taking strain, and they began to bend, but even then, they did not yield. After just over half an hour of smashing the door, the creature stopped and slowly shambled toward the stairs. My heart froze. It was coming here! Or was it here already? I sat still for a moment and tried not to lose my mind completely. I swear I could hear Woody the woodpecker laughing somewhere in the distance. I needed to keep it together. I took a long deep breath and tried to think of a way out.
Summarizing the details of my predicament, I realized I was trapped alone inside the Facility with an otherworldly force. Also, even if I found a way out, I’d potentially be letting an evil into the world that could destroy all life. My eyes grew even wider and I grabbed at my hair, “But my God, if this thing gets out. If it gets into the minds of other people. If it gets larger and larger. Could it swallow the world?” I was talking aloud now; the sound of my voice gave a new clarity to my situation that made me shudder. I turned back to the monitor. It seems I was all caught up. I stared blankly into the screen while I watched my past-self wake and wince from pain. I switched the monitor off and saw my reflection in the blackness of the screen. I was pale and my eyes were sunken and unblinking. “What do I do now?” I turned in my chair to look at Donald’s body. “Poor Donald, he didn’t deserve this”, I muttered softly. My eyes moved from his body up to the ammunition’s cupboard just above. “Wait, was he trying to get into the cupboard earlier?”, I gasped with realization. “Holy crap, he was trying to get the bomb! Me and Donald were gonna use a left-over bomb from the excavation site to blow some random shit up!”
I stood up quickly and walked up to the cupboard. I opened the cupboard with little effort and found the twenty pounds of plastic explosive inside. It had already been set up with a sixty second timer and a remote detonator. I sat at the table with the explosive, a vague plan forming in my broken mind. “Maybe if I somehow get this wall-thing to eat this bomb then...”
Before I could formulate my thoughts fully, the lights flickered, and the entire Facility was plunged into darkness unceremoniously. My nerves burned with fear. What had happened? Had that thing knocked the power out somehow? The next few seconds that past were the longest I’d ever experienced. Eventually dim green light bloomed to life and the reserve power kicked in. Then I heard slow, shuffling footsteps in the corridor just outside the office. I froze once again, my insides turning to mush. My mind raced. Had I remembered to lock the door? My stomach leapt into my feet as I heard the shuffling get louder and louder. I heard hoarse, wheezing breaths, as if the thing struggled to breathe. I jumped from fright but remained absolutely silent as whatever the thing was banged on the door with a deafening blow.
BANG!
The door shook and bent slightly.
BANG!
Silence.
BANG!
My heart was hammering in my ears and I sat deathly still. I could hear that thing breathing louder. After a few moments I heard it shuffle away. My entire body was shaking as relief washed over me. I turned to look at the screens. Dare I turn them on and check what it was? After a few seconds I turned to the monitors and switched them on. I waited in nervous anticipation as they flickered to life showing me that all the corridors between me and the wall were currently empty. I didn’t bother checking the corridor I suspected the shambling thingwas in. I didn’t want to see it unless I needed to. I’d had just about all the stress and terror I could take and by this stage I felt weirdly calm. It must be shock. A thin sigh escaped me as I stood. The fear in my blood began to feed a furnace of anger in my heart. I thought about all those who I had lost. I felt my expression turn to granite, “It’s time to kill this thing.”
I opened the door slowly, my fully loaded gun in my good hand. Spare ammo along with the explosive and a sawed-off shotgun was stashed in my backpack, and the remote detonator was tied to my belt. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in my shaky right hand. I moved cautiously through the dark green corridors. I’d never thought of how creepy this place could be until this moment. Gooseflesh crept up my arms and neck as I continued. All I could hear were my soft footfalls and shallow anxious breaths. I cleared the corridors one by one until I made it to the stairs. I walked up the stairs carefully. I took one step. Then another. Slowly, I climbed. After many minutes, I was near the hangar. Then I heard the soft sound of crying.
Someone was crying. No. Many people were crying.
I stopped dead in my tracks. My entire body shook from the adrenaline surging through me. Once my head peeked over the top of the landing, I froze. The wall loomed gigantic before me. Its edges were now framed intricately with the skeletons of hundreds of people, all twisted and screaming in agony; tortured souls bound together. I could hear them all. They were all screaming. Screaming for me to join them. I felt that pressure squeeze against my skull tighter and tighter. I shook my head in defiance. “No! You bastard! NO! I will not join you!” All at once the moans and wails stopped. I suddenly found myself at the top of the stairs without knowing when I’d finished climbing them. “But you will” came the sound of hundreds of twisted voices fused into one. “We are them. We are all. We can be all. We will be all. All and all and more than all.”
A deafening blast came from the wall and slithering, tangled human limbs emerged. It had four legs and several arms. It looked like the bodies of eight or more people shuffled and glued into an otherworldly horror. Its multiple mouths screamed a high pitched roar that was pure torment, and its sharp pointed teeth gnashed and chomped. I only had a second to dodge. I leapt to the side and fired multiple shots at the thing’s center of mass. Its horrifying body of fused torsos wriggled and bled black ichor. It screamed with pain and jumped at me, grabbing my leg. It tossed me into the air and I slammed into the floor a few feet away. As I hit the ground I yelled in pain and heard something metallic smash. Before I could catch my breath, it was upon me again. From the ground I fired several shots at it. This made it jump away and scuttle down the stairs. I noticed immediately that the remote detonator had been smashed beyond repair. With the creature momentarily out of sight, I kneeled and took off my backpack as fast as I could. “Only one way then”, I said quietly as I pulled out the bomb and started the timer manually. I also got the shotgun out. I needed to do this now or never.
As the final shell clicked into place I heard a roar coming from the stairs. The thing was back. Before I could react, it leapt at me and knocked me to the ground. The bomb flew from my grasp. It bared down on me, grabbing at my throat ready to tear me apart. My reflexes saved me and I managed to use my shotgun to hold the thing at bay, but it was way too strong. Desperate, I kicked it hard in the chest and it let go. I used this moment to grab the bomb that lay behind me; only 37 seconds to go! Terrified and crazed, sweat pouring down my face, my mind in pieces, I rammed the bomb into one of the creature’s mouths and kicked it back again as hard as I could. I heard it yelp like a wounded dog and it lost its footing. It fell sideways and in that second, I took my shotgun and fired at it in the chest. The force of the close-range blast sent me flying. At the same time the creature was hurled back into the wall where it was enveloped quickly.
My head was fuzzy. I was dizzy and the wind had been knocked out of me. Was the bomb going to work? I felt something warm and wet drip into my ear and touched the side of my head. My fingertips came away soaked in blood. My head was spinning. With a foggy mind I grabbed my bag, collecting my weapons and flashlight. As I stood up I heard a low rumbling sound. The ground beneath my feet shook and for a moment I was confused. Then I looked up at the wall. Its surface was boiling like I’d never seen before. It was shaking and growing. I turned to run when suddenly there was a massive blast, and the entire wall exploded into hundreds of grey chunks. These rained down all around the hangar, smashing several aircrafts. The blast knocked me off my feet.
When I awoke I could see early morning light through the tiny cracks in the blast door. Where the wall had once been now stood a small blackened crater. I coughed and lifted my head to inspect the wall pieces and found that they – my mouth opened. They were melting. I watched in dumbfounded horror as the pieces began to merge, just like that scene from Terminator 2. It was rebuilding itself.
As I stood to run I heard a groan. My blood became ice.
I turned slowly in terror to find the shambling, wheezing monstrosity behind me. Like the creature I’d shot, this one seemed made from bits and pieces of human limbs knitted together randomly. This one had six legs which came out of its mouth, its head positioned within its torso where the bellybutton should be, and it wheezed in pain. I almost puked from fright but my feet were already carrying me away. I sprinted down the corridors, ignoring all the pain and fear and exhaustion and anger and frustration inside me. Without thinking, I leapt into the first janitor’s closet I found and locked the door. After catching my breath, I found this notepad and pencil, and have been writing this report in the sterile glow of my flashlight. Hopefully, I have left some useful information for anyone who may find this.
Now I lie in wait. What is that thing? If it can survive a bomb like that, what hope do we have? It’s no wall at all. It’s a membrane. An interface. Somewhere very different is pressing up against us. It has torn a small hole, and was now prying it open further.
So here I wait, hoping to be saved, but even as I write this I can hear that thing walking past the door. With a soft click I turn off my flashlight. I try not to breathe. I can hear the snuffling, it’s right outside!
Shit! Shit! I hear keys. The door is unlocking! How? How?
Oh God! The doorknob is turning...

I [M26], have suddenly been getting terribly itchy all over my body whenever I start getting hot (mainly during mild-moderate exercise, even including doing chores/cleaning/etc.). I don't have any official diagnoses, but from what I've researched, it seems to align mostly with cholinergic uticaria/miliaria. I don't really notice any physical/visual symptoms (bumps/rashes); there may be some mild redness, but it may just be from me scratching there. But the one thing that's not making sense is that it's coming out of no where/hasn't happened to me before.
The first time in my life I noticed this was last year when I was thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. In the beginning of the days when I would start hiking, I'd get itchy all over, but it would eventually subside within a half-hour or so, and it mostly went away after a month or so. After I finished the trail, it was fall/winter, and I would occasionally still get the itching whenever I'm inside being active/doing chores, but it wasn't that severe.
But its been getting WAY worse. Maybe it's due to warmer weather (I live in PA, USA). But its never been nearly this bad before. Whenever I get even remotely warm, I get intensely prickly/itchy all over.
This is probably unrelated, but I did (maybe still do) have some sort of fungal skin condition. It was slightly dark pigmentation in my groin region, but it's entirely asymptomatic. It's come and gone over the past years but it was never enough for me to go get it looked at.
M26, ~160 lbs, 5'8", Caucasian, NKA, 30mg Adderall/day (prescribed for ADHD), occasional Kratom, and Fluticasone 50mcg spray. Taking anti-histamines (pills/creams) may or may not help (I'm not really sure), but its still not enough for me to actually go outside and exercise/do the things I want to do. I used to play baseball with friends every week, but now I have to stay home because it would be unbearable.

Here is my shortlist for a home we purchased last year:

1. New white garage utility sink (recently painted garage)
2. Fix the garage floor drain
3. New bathroom vent fans
4. New screen in patio ceiling fans to replace old lighting (covers fell off)
5. Replace dishwasher with Bosch 500 (still works though!)
6. Recess protruding outlets into walls (2 in garage and 1 in sunroom)

If any money is left over: replace sunroom screens and fix rotting wood/door, new genesis BBQ, patio furniture, and westinghouse pressure washer.
Which of these can I tackle myself vs hiring out? I have already replaced all the old ivory outlets/light switches and saved us $1k.
Photos: https://imgur.com/a/9K6pUX3
Gofundme: jk

As the title says, im pretty sure my sisters boyfriend stole my earbuds but i dont know how or if i should tell her or confront him. Situation complicated.
My sister and this guy, lets call him Rob, have been in an on-again off-again relationship that goes back at least the last 9 years. We've suspected he's stolen from us before, from my parents, brother, sister and i also suspect from my nephew but since he hasnt been caught in the act, its hard to prove.
For convenience i keep my earbuds on a shelf in the living room. They were a gift from my sister and her boyfriend helped her pick them out. He has the same kind only older.
Now, he is not the father of my nephew but my sister gave him the title(complicated but not relevant to the story)so he comes over to see them off to school in the mornings.
I have no way of knowing when exactly the theft would have taken place. I dont use my earbuds everyday, and everything breaks eventually, so i didnt suspect theft until later. But all of a sudden they started to give me trouble. Not wanting to charge from their charging case but needing to be plugged into an outlet. Their is also a crack on the bottom of the charging case that was never their before.
Its difficult to bring up my suspicions to my sister. She gets pissed off whenever anyone says anything critical about him. Like in a if were criticizing him were criticizing her type of way. I did bring it up to my mother and she looked at it and mentioned that it looked a little scuffed along with it being cracked and said she thought mine was in pristine condition as i take care of my things. That made me realize that mine WEREN'T in pristine condition. On mine their were scratches where the plug goes into the charging case. The ones i have now has no scratches. Clearly not the same case.
I believe he switched his broken earphones with mine when he was here one morning, believing i wouldnt notice the difference.
Is this enough proof? Should i talk to my sister about it? Should i let it go? Would it be worth the possible bitchfest that WILL go down if she dosent believe me? Would i be the AH for confronting him with this little proof?
Fyi were all adults in our 30s. My sister, nephew and i live in the same house. The boyfriend does not.

I find myself weird and different from others. When I look at them, I always ask myself, why can't I socialize normally like them? Maintain proper eye contact, not scratching my arms repeatedly when someone's talking to me or replying with short phrases. I really can't remember anything from my childhood except the scary parts and when my mom caught me talking to the wall (in fact, I was actually talking to my 'imaginary friend'). Until now, she would sometimes catch me daydreaming. I would daydream about people in my life, apply their personalities in real life, and talk to them there. I find it easier to talk to people in my head. Minsan nga magsasama pa ako ng ibang tao na di ko kilala but gagawan ko sila ng personality and they would all just sit in one room (classroom namin) and mawi-witness nila yung daydreaming (name k) side ko where I am much more confident and not awkward. I am funny. I am pleasant. I am everything that I am not in my real self!
Oh, the daydreaming part took over me sobraaaaa! I wake up, straight to daydreaming. Eat? Daydreaming. Studying? Still daydreaming. Walking outside? Still daydreaming. I can't seem to stop. I sometimes cry, then end up daydreaming about me sitting on a couch with a therapist beside me LOL!! Feel ko nababaliw na ako minsan WAAAH !!
But I am not totally socially inept ahh (or maybe I am?)! I can still make friends naman but rarely, and they never last long because I can't really catch up sometimes, or I just end up hating them. They talk badly about almost everybody! I can also still SOMETIMES carry on conversations if it's about something that I am interested in, and if it is not, I am totally silent, just listening (but not really) or just giving short replies like "ahh" or nods.
WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME JUICEKOLAWRD (wala lg want ko lang talaga toh matanggal sa isip ko kasi wala akong makausap abt dito kaya here n lg me nag-post !)

​Hi all, selling the following item:
Nintendo DSi Bundle - $55 Shipped
*Nintendo DSi is the USA/North America model as shown on the 4th photo. Console does have a significant amount of cosmetic damages such as scratches and dents throughout the exterior body (refer to photos 3-5).
*NOTE: Console is Modded and has CFW (Custom Firmware) installed. Console has been default to launch in CFW menu but can be switched to regular stock DSi menu by hitting Select > DSi Menu. Console has no issues playing games, no issues with sound, camera, or touch screen usage. There is minor yellowing of the bottom screen.
(Please let me know if you want me to switch the default menu to stock DSi menu instead of CFW)
*Comes complete with DSi console with stylus and 3rd party charger. Also comes with plastic cover plates for DSi and wrist strap that can be attached to the console.
*Comes with Foto Frenzy and Club Penguin: Elite Penguin Force DS Game cartridges complete with original boxes. The manual is missing from the Club Penguin game.
Photos: https://imgur.com/a/FyBzW4P

Hi everyone,
I’m wanting to purchase a used Chevy Bolt. The car I’m looking at is a certified pre owned vehicle from the Chevrolet dealer. It has 70,000km. Battery replaced at 36,000km as part of recall. Comes with a 6 month warranty and decent finance rates.
I looked at the car on Friday and there are some minor dents on the doors and scratches. The salesman said they are bringing someone in to repair the cosmetic damage.
The car is listed for $22,900 CAD. It is the LT trim, and has heated seats/steering wheel.
My friend who is a car guy says I should offer $20,000 and see if they negotiate. Is this a good idea? Car has been in the lot for about 2 weeks.
Appreciate everyone’s experience. Let me know if there’s info I am missing.
Edit:
Getting some helpful feedback below!

Hi
I am simulating a body with an inlet duct. The body is placed in Pressure far-field domain (see picture below). Flow can enter in duct on its own but there is a pressure outlet boundary condition at duct exit to control mass flow rate.
For any pressure outlet value, there is a specific mass flow rate passing through pressure outlet. I am using Starccm+ and encountering a problem in my simulation. For example, if 5000 pa static pressure is applied at duct outlet, the pressure is achieved and required massflow is also achieved. Then pressure is increased 10000 the massflow reduces and required values are achieved. Then static pressure is increased to 15000 and required static pressure and mass flow is achieved at duct exit. But if pressure is increased from this point on-wards, no matter what, the specified pressure is not achieved and mass flow also got stuck to a fix point. The details can be seen below
Pressure Value Specified Pressure Value achieved Mass Flow rate achieved Status
5000 Pa 5000 Pa 20 kg/s Easily Converged
10000 10000 18 Easily Converged
15000 15000 16 Easily Converged
20000 18000 14 Req. values not achieved
25000 18000 14 Req. values not achieved
​
Any possible solutions to this problem, Also see the setup picture attached below.

Frank Miller's Daredevil and the Ends of Heroism (Comics Culture) eBook : Young, Paul
This was the first honest-to-god analysis of a work of fiction I ever bought. Sure we all think about the stories we read but I had never sought out a professional look at it before. The interviews with Miller and others are really an invaluable look into his creative process, IMO.
I really recommend this book for insights not just into Daredevil, but Batman and Punisher, too.
For anyone curious, here are a lot of the parts which really stood out to me - although of course I have my own interests and you might have parts of the book you love which I just passed over. The first comic I ever remember reading and being deeply impressed by was JMS' Supreme Power. To me, the best superhero stories ask "what does it even mean to be a (super)hero?" I think Miller has some invaluable insights on this topic.

Miller's problem with Spider-Man was all the angst. "All my reservations about the character are in how he talks 'cause his visual is still very confident, and very strong - it's just that he never stops whining." Spidey's self-pity, his penchant for martyrdom, and his borderline masochistic self-neglect attracted fans' identification but also made his life more or less a continual nightmare. Even worse, it made his success as a superhero hard for Miller to swallow. Spider-Man's trademark heckling of villains during fights only made his effectiveness less believable:
"I don't believe that Spider-Man would last two weeks [as a crime fighter] the way he's conceived. In order to have power over the criminals, you would have to be that rotten; [criminals] would have to accept him as almost one of them... Daredevil has to reach the point where when he walks into a room. they're terrified of him. because he has to be accepted as a force they'll respect. That isn't done much in comic books; it's around in other kinds of fiction. I'm more comfortable with that; I don't see him as being happy go lucky when he's up against a bunch of guys with guns."
[...]
Miller would probably have incited comparisons to Batman in the fan press simply by transforming Daredevil into a grittier, more deterministic series, but Miller openly stressed the parallel in his Daredevil-era interviews. In 1981, Miller draws an explicit contrast between Daredevil and Batman: "Daredevil . . . operates on a basic motive of love for seeking out justice. . . . [Batman] is punishing those who killed his parents. Batman's focus is on the criminal, Daredevil's is on the victim."27 Critics picked up on Miller's concern with Daredevil's motives, as well as the productive task of measuring them against those of the Batman. Reviewing Miller's work thus far in the Comics Journal in 1982, Ed Via wrote that Miller had made Daredevil "first and foremost a moralist, a person with a strong sense of fairness and . . . compassion, someone whose actions were as directly in line with his convictions as humanly possible."28 Even Daredevil's scuffles with criminals differed from Batman's in that they were performances rather than acts of vengeance:
"I see Matt Murdock as being a grown man and Daredevil as almost being a boy. . . . He believes in everything he's doing and he works very hard at it, but part of him just gets off on jumping around buildings."29 "I'm also trying to develop him as a guy with a terrific sense of humor, who scares criminals and has a great time doing it. Like [Steve Ditko's DC character] the Creeper, he laughs and laughs and laughs, and thinks [to himself], 'Jeez, they're buying it!'"30
Miller's favorite means of exposing his hero's antic side was to send Daredevil to Josie's Bar, a fictional dive where New York's entire population of petty thieves seems to turn up every night. Digging for clues to various cases, DD inevitably sparks fights that trash the place, hurling thugs through the front window while Josie protests (for the umpteenth time) that she just had it repaired. Sometimes he even orders a drink first, but as Miller points out, it's always a glass of milk. The milk (and the milk moustache it leaves behind) comically telegraphs Matt's wholesomeness compared to the hardened types guzzling whiskey and beer all around him, but it also underscores Miller's description of DD as Matt's boyish side, the inner child that "comes alive" while playing superhero.31
Ultimately, however, the contrast Miller once drew between the borderline psychotic Batman and the psychologically healthy Daredevil sounds like an overstatement of the argument, fronted by the Village Voice in 1965 (and echoed in Esquire the following year), that "Marvel Comics are the first comic books to evoke, even metaphorically, the Real World."32 By those lights, "real world" referentiality meant that Marvel heroes dealt openly with persecution, neuroses, and family squabbles and turned out to be their own worst enemies nearly as often as protagonists did in postwar literary fiction.
By contrast, DC didn't raise any schlemiels, with the possible exception of Clark Kent, whose inferiority complex is all an act to keep people from noticing that, but for the eyeglasses and the hunched shoulders, he looks exactly like Superman. DC stories followed the logic of such classical storytelling modes as the epic or the chronicle, where decision making is an exponent of action instead of a process inflected by character subtleties and every action thus taken is world-historical in importance. Its editors exiled strong emotion, anxiety, mortality, and other everyday complexities to the infamous imaginary stories of the fifties and early sixties.
This means of distinguishing Silver Age Marvel heroes from those of DC hits a snag, however, when we stack Batman's origin up against that of Spider-Man or Daredevil. The emotional crux of all three is the Spidey triumvirate of all-too-human gut reactions: guilt, shame, and a desire for revenge. Indeed, the most obvious precedent for Daredevil's origin is the first version of Batman's origin story in DC's Detective Comics #33 (December 1939), in which an anonymous street thug robs and shoots Bruce Wayne's parents before young Bruce's eyes. Batman's origin sets underexamined precedents for many origin stories from Marvel's Silver Age: dead parent, angry child, costume chosen to strike fear into what the Batman of 1939 touts as a "superstitious, cowardly lot" of evildoers, an initial state of helplessness igniting the desire to bulk up and do right. Not unlike the death of Jack Murdock in Daredevil's case, Bruce Wayne's extraordinary childhood loss forges Batman's determination to avenge that loss on all criminals everywhere forever after and to transform himself into a steroidal, bat-eared Sherlock Holmes.
Miller brought the Punisher, then Marvel's most homicidal lead character, into the comparison to develop a pet point about Daredevil's singularity: his duty to the legal system, for better or worse. In 1981, when Richard Howell asked Miller point blank, "Is Daredevil Marvel's Batman?" Miller answered that, no, "the Punisher is Marvel's Batman."33 Miller argued that, unlike the Batman, whose parents' murder catalyzed every major life decision he made from then on, the death of Battlin' Jack did not have as "big an effect on [Matt] as his father's life, and he is his father's son, being a natural born fighter."34 The Punisher, by contrast, shares not only Batman's desire to murdered loved ones but also his will to stop killers and drug dealers in their tracks. He exceeds Batman's mission only in that he executes the bad guys on the spot.
The Punisher, Miller tells Howell, is "Batman without the impurities. The side of Batman that makes him spare the criminals is something that's added on. It's not part of the basic concept of his character. . . . Daredevil's basic concept is very dissimilar. I see Daredevil as someone who operates on a basic motive of love for seeking out justice."35
This was not to say, however, that the Punisher's use of deadly force made him less heroic to Miller than Daredevil or Batman were. The Punisher is a hero, Miller says, but "I don't consider him a role model. The main difference between him and Daredevil is Daredevil's sense of responsibility to the law. The Punisher is an avenger; he's Batman without the lies built in."36
The "lies" Miller mentions refer in part to Batman's vow never to kill; he wields a gun only two or three times in his entire first forty-five years in print, due in each case to editorial inattention. While the no-kill rule probably helped keep Batman out of trouble with parents worried over comics' influence on young children, it exacerbated the tension between his desire for justice and his sense that the legal system is inadequate to the task of collaring mass murderers and rooting out corruption. If Batman's prime motive is to champion justice in the legal sense, to quash anarchy and restore social order, then why does he have such contempt for the police and the legal system except insofar as they can help him achieve his goals?
[...]
The ambivalence about due process expressed here stems in part from Miller's decision to make Daredevil a character whose convictions don't necessarily match his own: "I don't necessarily believe that Daredevil's right about everything he says. The character is built on very strong basic principles, and it would have been a terrible violation of those principles . . . to let Bullseye die. Daredevil has to believe that the law will work in every instance, but I'm allowed to believe differently."17 Miller had much tougher critiques of Daredevil-style liberalism waiting up his sleeve, including the bleeding-heart psychiatrists in Batman: The Dark Knight Returns who claim that Two-Face and the Joker (the Joker, for crying out loud) can be rehabilitated and an unforgettable throwaway joke about liberal hypocrisy in the same book, in which a Central Casting suburbanite tells a reporter that he doesn't believe in Batman's brand of vigilante justice but then snorts that he himself would "never live in the city." But to paint Miller as a legal or social conservative would not be accurate, at least not at this point in his career. Satirically, in fact, Miller plays the entire political field, broiling John Ashcroft and George W. Bush in The Dark Knight Strikes Again (2001–2) for exploiting the Twin Towers' destruction to further their own political agenda (and while these men were doing exactly that in the aftermath of 9/11, no less).
The Daredevil run, though, is less a satire of Matt's position, or anyone else's, than it is a Brechtian experiment in which Miller draws sympathy to Murdock's point of view while examining it with a microscope at the same time, pushing harder and harder on the question of whether justice is served if lives are left at risk, while putting just as much pressure on the opposing question of whether preventive justice deserves to be called justice at all.
[...]
Matt's reaction to the death of Elektra is to bully Heather into the submissive role that Elektra couldn't play. Miller attributes to Matt not a single thought balloon to suggest that he is aware of the toll his bullying takes on her, while Miller continually draws the reader's attention to that toll via Matt's glib condescension and Heather's devastated reactions to it. The soundness of Daredevil's judgment is now more questionable than ever. Does his heroism stem from a neurotic urge to control everything around him, and is that neurosis reaching a tipping point? After all, we see him suffer a nearly dissociative breakdown when he convinces himself in #182 that Elektra somehow survived her own murder. The splash page of that issue still chills me with its full-face close-up of Matt in a cold sweat, staring into our eyes, as if pleading with us to believe something we know to be utterly false just because he believes it: "SHE'S ALIVE." By #189, only seven issues later, his demeaning paternalism has driven his new fiancée straight to the bottle.
In spite of the ugliness of Matt's abuse, and the emphasis Miller places on that ugliness, it's difficult for me to decide whether terrorizing Heather this way makes Daredevil less heroic or more heroic in Miller's definition. Miller has often spoken about the archetypical hero as something other than human, as dismissive of what others think they need as Matt is of Heather's feelings. When Miller discusses The Dark Knight Strikes Again!, which he and interviewer Gary Groth agree is nearly a parody of superhero comics, he emphasizes Batman's abstract quality, born of the kind of social isolation that Stick enforces on Matt: If Batman's "motto is striking terror" into the hearts of criminals, then "Batman can only be defined as a terrorist. . . . I don't want you to like this guy." "My feeling about Batman is that he's similar [to James Bond] in that you'd want him to be there when you're being mugged, but you wouldn't want to have dinner with him. The way he cheers Hawkman on as he crushes Luthor's skull . . . For me, [such scenes demonstrate] the idea [of Batman] coming into its own without the bullshit on top of it being a socially acceptable role model and all of that."23
Matt's disregard for Heather's emotional state during the Glenn Enterprises affair further clarifies Miller's sense of the heroic impulse: it is prosociety but deeply antisocial, convinced that Right and Wrong are real and unchanging standards but dangerously solipsistic in its interpretation of how to achieve Right at the expense of Wrong. The true hero, according to Miller, is, compared to "normal" human beings at least, a pathological narcissist. Daredevil, with unwavering faith in his own judgment, performs "necessary" services for a culture whether it asks for them or not, while those who are under his protection see him as unfathomable at best and terrifying at worst. But even if Miller thrills to his own extrication of the "lies" and "bullshit" from the Batman persona a few years later, in Daredevil he employs dramatic irony to relate the high cost, to both individuals and their community, of the uncompromising, take-no-prisoners heroism that Americans think they want. "Dirty Harry . . . is a profoundly, consistently moral force," Miller tells Kim Thompson, but that wouldn't keep him out of jail for "administering the 'Wrath of God' on murderers who society treats as victims.
An authoritative study of Jack Kirby, Charles Hatfield has suggested that Marvel Comics distinguished itself in the 1960s in part by placing new stress on the tension intrinsic to superhero comics between the hero's desire for justice and the extralegal means by which she or he pursues it.25 I would add that Marvel's Silver Age stories place the stress primarily on the plotting opportunities provided by this tension, as in the case of Spider-Man, whose good deeds only draw the ire of a public (understandably) suspicious of ununiformed law enforcement.
Miller further develops the "upstanding vigilante" paradox from a cliché of the genre into a philosophical dialectic that, though sometimes decried as fascistic, cannot be reduced to an unironic plea for authoritarian rule. The superheroic fantasies on display in 300, the Sin City graphic novels, The Dark Knight Strikes Again!, and even the controversial Holy Terror cast a clear eye on the paradox of the specifically American fascination with the superheroic ideal. All pose to the reader the implicit question, Is this really what you want? Considering the consistency of this theme dating back to Daredevil,
I think of the pre-9/11 Frank Miller as less conservative than libertarian, a posthippie refugee of the 1960s who disdains the everyone-is-special relativism of grade-school participation trophies and liberal humanism but shares with the conscientious objector and the bra burner a fervency for personal liberty: "I'm no middle-of-the-roader, but I find that people who tend to follow any party line, of the left or right, tend to all end up saying the same thing, which is 'Do what I tell you.' Quit those habits I don't like, don't use the words I don't like, don't draw the pictures I don't want my children to see. . . . So yeah, I have a very jaundiced view toward most authority."26 In any event, Miller's focus on Daredevil's unflagging moral code, and his attention to how a relentless diet of violence might change that code into an ideological prison, allows him to explore the upstanding vigilante figure from multiple angles—the broadly liberal defense of constitutional protection for criminals and victims alike; the broadly conservative ideal of defending one's own body, family, and property without impediment from the state—without readily disclosing his personal politics.
[...]
Slowly and steadily, Miller was maneuvering out of Code territory into the world of frankly adult themes and pressing harder and harder on the contradictions on which a traditional concept of heroism depends. Miller's The Dark Knight Returns steps even further into that world even as it sets up new "walls" to push against, namely, the postsixties culture of liberal humanism and so-called moral relativism. Miller's Batman has all of Daredevil's desire for justice but lacks any of DD's concern for the civil rights of the alleged perpetrators; indeed, if Daredevil's primary concern is with the victims, as Jim Shooter taught Miller, then Batman's primary concern is with crushing the perps. And he gets called on it throughout The Dark Knight Returns by loads of liberal-sounding talking heads who claim that Two-Face and the Joker were actually turned into supervillains by Batman's example, that even convicted homicidal maniacs deserve a second chance, and so forth.
What Miller has done is to take Daredevil's line of legal thinking regarding the rights of criminal defendants, the same line that made him save Bullseye from being mashed on the subway tracks, and put it in the mouths of comic-relief characters such as the brain surgeons and psychologists who try to make Two-Face a productive member of society again. Miller's Batman, by contrast, is an epic hero who refuses to mistake good for evil or vice versa, and he gets to define on his own what each term means. Miller's Matt Murdock refuses such a metaphysical view of good and evil as all-or-nothing opposites on idealist grounds of a different sort. Matt believes that obscured innocence and hidden guilt have to be brought to light intellectually by finding proof and testing it, while Batman, who was at one time represented as a detective at heart, relies entirely on instinct when Miller has the reins.
To be fair, Miller presents the crudeness of Batman's worldview as a serious problem and has even done so in the midst of a conflict that seemed to many Americans to draw the brightest possible line between the national Us and a foreign Them. DC had already published the first issue of Miller and the colorist Lynn Varley's Dark Knight sequel, Batman: The Dark Knight Strikes Again!, when al-Qaeda operatives commandeered the planes that destroyed the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, an event that, Miller told Groth, made it impossible to leave Batman's catchphrase about "striking terror into the hearts" of evildoers unannotated. As I've mentioned, Batman's dialogue in The Dark Knight Strikes Again!—even the dialogue written before 9/11—makes the ugliness of his philosophy unmistakable: "Striking terror. Best part of the job."
Groth even points out to Miller that one Batman speech, in which he refers to American capitalists and the federal government as "tyrants" and promises that he and his team will "strike like lightning and . . . melt into the night like ghosts," sounds uncannily like "the point of view of radical Islamists" toward the United States.13 Miller doesn't take such a crack at the obvious bad guys, however. Rather, he immediately pounces on the political reaction to the bad guys and how the George Bushes, Dick Cheneys, and John Ashcrofts of the world use crises like 9/11 for their own purposes. They stand in for the heroes we think we need in tumultuous times but slip the bounds of law at every turn—and Miller attempts to reduce our sympathy for them. This Miller, chastened by the 9/11 attacks but ever the shrewd critic of the media that deliver such disasters to us, digs into the fascistic politics of superhero comics, the news media's role in sensationalizing global politics and inciting fanatical nationalism, and the real-world politics of vigilante justice all at once. He claims comics as a space to explore what "heroism" means—and not necessarily to him but rather to contemporary US culture. If the one who "saves" us from tyranny, even the tyranny of our own leaders, claims he has to act like a terrorist to do it, do we even want to be saved?
At the same time, both Miller's comics and his interviews have long scrutinized the insolubility of the paradox—heroism is necessary to restore order, but it's also authoritarian in its purest form, even fascistic—as a necessary evil. Batman seems the purer Miller "hero" in that Batman's sense of justice is unencumbered by any complicating factors. He metes it out as he sees fit, on the basis of an Old Testament version of righteousness: you take my eye, I'll take yours, score settled. This hero is no model for quotidian life, but as in such classical Hollywood Westerns as John Ford's The Searchers (1956), the frontier will remain forever a chaotic wilderness without him. Only Ford's half-wild hero Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) can save his niece from hostile Comanche in post–Civil War Texas, but his intense race hatred makes him a relic, unfit to cross the threshold into the orderly world of law, family, and home that his very wildness has helped bring to the western frontier.
The civic-minded Daredevil would be welcome in any such home, but for the later Miller especially, that taste for civilization and its rules reads as an "impurity," a liberal-humanist streak within traditional superheroism that Miller once talked about strictly in terms of character type (it's the difference between Batman and his "purer" doppelgänger, the Punisher) but that lately he describes as a moral fault, without any of the irony he mustered up a decade ago. There are signs dating back to 1986's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns that this irony was ambivalent anyway, considering the extent to which Batman adopts the Western hero's ruthless stance when taming the "frontier" of racialized criminals, right down to trading in the Batmobile for a horse.
The progressive reverence with which Miller's comics after Daredevil treat that definition of heroism has everything to do with 9/11 and the scale of twenty-first-century global terrorism as Miller has processed it since The Dark Knight Strikes Again!. Back in 2003, he told Groth, "For at least the foreseeable future, [9/11 is] the whole point of my work. I'm going to play around with doing some propagandizing,"15 but this sentiment did not prevent him from making the US government's reaction to the disaster a target for satire in his second Dark Knight story or lambasting the Bush administration for branding disagreement with its policies as providing solace to terrorists. By contrast, the Fixer, the costumed hero of Miller's frankly propagandistic graphic novel Holy Terror (Legendary Comics, 2011), doesn't care whether he gets thrown out of the house or not; his lot is to make the world safe for civilization, American style, not to inhabit it, and he likes it that way. The Fixer, a behemoth who shares a name with a character that Miller created for his high school newspaper's comics page, kills terrorists like a sledgehammer breaks pavement. There's no second-guessing motives or anything else; as far as the Fixer is concerned, if you're Muslim, you've got a bomb strapped to your midsection, so there's no danger that he will smash the wrong face.
Unsurprisingly, the character originally at the center of Holy Terror was Batman. Finally, Miller had freed the character of its impurities. To do that, he also had to burn off the "impurities" of the fundamentalist foe by painting al-Qaeda as representatives of all Islam and all Muslims and playing on every Arab stereotype he could scratch onto his Bristol board, from big noses to using Evil English to express delight in the torture and murder of "infidels." He has matched such images with political commentaries on National Public Radio, his personal blog, and elsewhere that show none of the critical distance that once made his work as jarring and energizing intellectually as the best Dashiell Hammett novel you've ever read. Our terrorist enemy, Miller has said, is "pernicious, deceptive and merciless and wants nothing less than [our] total destruction." Never mind that the majority of victims of al-Qaida and now ISIS are, in fact, Muslims.16
The hardline right position that Miller takes in Holy Terror differs so dramatically from that expressed in interviews dating back to the early 1980s that one has to wonder if he's been replaced by a Life Model Decoy from Nick Fury's supply closet. But Holy Terror was a critical disaster, prompting fans and critics alike to swear off any future Miller work and even to claim that his comics have rallied around a "sexist, fascist" flagpole since as far back as The Dark Knight Returns and possibly even before. Spencer Ackerman echoes the most scathing reviews when he writes in Wired, "Frank Miller doesn't do things halfway. One of the true comic-book greats, he's created several of the most extraordinary stories ever to grace the art form. So perhaps it's fitting that now he's produced one of the most appalling, offensive and vindictive comics of all time.
[...]
I can't subscribe to such uses of Miller's Batman to evaluate Miller's own character. Critics have been mistaking the positions Miller examines in his comics for his own convictions for decades. Indeed, Miller would agree with every one of Kevin's criticisms of Batman and even offer an aesthetic justification for this portrayal that depends on a dramatic irony that is difficult to locate, precisely because superhero comics have always traded in absolutes; criticism of those absolutes would understandably be less obvious to a dedicated reader of superhero comics, not to mention a nonreader convinced of superheroes' intrinsic lack of sophistication, than to someone interested in exploring or exploding the limits of the Batman mythos. Now, however, it not only looks like Miller has given away his critical distance; he also wants everyone to know it and to decide for themselves whether what he's done is worthless as a result, as comics or as political activism.
Back in 1998, discussing 300 with Christopher Brayshaw in the Comics Journal, Miller acknowledges the historical irony of Greece, the epitome of civil organization and intellectualism in the ancient West, needing a nation-state of cold-blooded warriors to fight its battles. In another context, he tells Brayshaw, he might have invited readers to ponder that irony and consider its paradoxical relationship to the development of democratic ideals.19 He does not do so in this context, however. For Miller, 300 is all about the necessity of saving civilization—Western civilization—from barbarism. The three hundred Spartans did what was necessary; they lost the battle, badly, but without their sacrifice, discipline, and utterly unambiguous worldview, we would apparently still be living in mud huts today.
Even with 300, though, Miller argues that he's playing around just a tiny bit with our tendency to collapse heroes with role models. Miller makes Leonidas admirable but not likable and renders most of the other 299 Spartans as less admirable and even less likable. But maybe, Miller has said not only about the Spartans but about the Punisher, Batman, and Superman, cultures need guys like that, and I do mean guys—the reckless male narcissists who can't or won't make subtle distinctions between good and evil—to do the dirty work of "preserving civilization as we know it." Usually, as in The Dark Knight Returns and The Dark Knight Strikes Again! and to a certain extent the noir riff on Dante's Inferno that is Sin City, Miller lets us sit with that ugly possibility, lets us squirm at our own enjoyment and/or disgust. He forces us to wonder if peace and forward movement are ever possible without the bright lines between good and evil and at the same time makes us ponder whether by drawing those lines, we put our humanity at risk. The generous way to interpret what Miller says here is that, like Hitchcock, he's casting doubt on the very notion of heroism that rules superhero comics, that is, the fantasy that superheroes could do what they do and yet remain "ordinary" people. Miller turned Batman into a living symbol of the fear that criminals should feel when threatened by "good," at least in a Platonist universe, but don't. However, when it's no longer comics, the First Amendment, or aesthetic complexity at stake but national security, take-no-prisoners tactics—in art as well as war—look to Miller like the only way to go.
[...]
In what I want to believe is a triumph of Miller the listener over the absolutist Miller who sneers at the same First Amendment he once sacrificed his industry goodwill to defend, Miller now refuses to comment further on his anti-Occupy rant. Perhaps he thinks it all speaks for itself, or perhaps he has accepted certain tenets of his critics just as he graciously (and legitimately, it seems) accepted the differing opinions of Groth and other interviewers as recently as a decade ago. Either way, he has stopped talking much about politics of any stripe. His blog is now abandoned due to "computer problems," Miller says, glowering during an interview for a Wired profile when Sean Howe suggests he find "a better technician" to fix it. "I will," Miller says, after a long silence.22
Look back on Daredevil's nemeses from the '79–'82 run with Miller's current anti-Islamicism in mind, though, and watch the ambiguities and nuances of his first major achievement get harder to pinpoint. Bullseye is a psychopath, complete with brain damage caused by cancer to guarantee it. Elektra is irredeemable despite her ostensibly clean bill of mental health: "The feeling I've been trying to get across is that she's betrayed something. She was meant to be something better than she is."23 But once you've fallen from grace, that's it. Some people are evil, through and through—think of the "reformed" Harvey Dent/Two-Face in The Dark Knight Returns, whose ruined mind no amount of reconstructive surgery can repair—and they must be punished, locked away for good, dismissed, disposed of. There's no other way to get the cancer out of society. Miller dates the rising scale of violent crime in Daredevil back to his getting mugged and robbed in New York: "The experience filled me with anger, and that translated right into my comics."24 As he got angrier, however, the struggle over right and wrong that plagued Daredevil seemed to get a lot less interesting to him than staking an unwavering claim to right.
Howe shrewdly characterizes Miller's use of secondary characters as a kind of misdirection: "Daredevil's dastardly supporting cast allowed Miller to have it both ways by making Daredevil's barrage of kicks and punches look reasonable in comparison."25 The bleak view on Miller's career would paint it as a slow but momentous roll past such apologies for superheroic vigilantism and into the stark light of the Fixer's gleeful, openly sadistic rampages, a development that Howe connects to Miller's personal victimization by crime prior to plotting Batman: The Dark Knight Returns:
"As Miller's career was taking off, the everyday violence in Manhattan at the time was taking its toll. "New York is no longer fit for human habitation," Miller told one friend. After enduring three robberies in the course of a month, he and [the colorist and his then-girlfriend Lynn] Varley decided to escape to LA. While she went out west to search for a home, he stayed behind to set up more work to get them out of debt. He had a check in his pocket when, once again, someone tried to rob him. "Frank just went berserk on the guy," Varley says. "He didn't hit him or anything, he just went so berserk the guy backed off and ran away. We were on edge."26
Such anger floats to the surface of his work with a bang in 1986, the year I graduated from high school, with not one but two smash-hit stories about characters that didn't belong to him: Batman: The Dark Knight Returns and Miller's most lauded Daredevil story, Daredevil: Born Again, his 1986 return to the Daredevil series, penciled by David Mazzucchelli.
[...]
It's a hell of a second coming for a character whose series stubbornly still bore a Comics Code seal. I won't fault Miller for the anger of that story today any more than I did when I read Born Again at seventeen; on the contrary, I still believe there's not much point in going through adolescence in the United States without some rebel-themed mass culture to embrace for the sole reason that your parents would hate it. Still, I marvel at how much Miller's perspective on his audience had changed between 1983's "Roulette" and the Born Again story line in 1985–86.
According to Howe's account of Marvel in the eighties, Miller's inspiration for Born Again was losing everything himself. Ramped up on the success of Ronin and eager to get away from the city that fostered at least one person's transformation into a real-life vigilante ("one Bernard Goetz is enough"), Miller moved to Los Angeles, found himself dead broke, and decided to pitch a new Daredevil story that started with Matt Murdock in similar straits.28 No doubt it was satisfying to create a world in which a bloated mob boss—somebody, anybody—could actually be held accountable for downturns of fortune, instead of such mundane external forces as random robberies or astronomically high rent. But Born Again also recommends interpretations of Miller's work as reflective of his worldview, making it more difficult to give him the benefit of the doubt when he says he is investigating the justification of defensive violence rather than sponsoring it.

[...]

I repainted my car because of some dent and scratches. The new paint now has dust particles inside the clear coat and does not feel smooth to touch. Will the dust damage the clear coat in future ? Any solution ?

I'm from canada planning to buy a prius as my first car and found a 2013 model at the nearest toyota dealership. They are quoting $13,400 (cad). The odo reading is 172,704km (about 107k miles). Entirely serviced at the dealership. The dealership showed me all the sevicing records and carfax is clean. No accidents and only on major repair was in 2016 where they replaced a new windshield for $902(cad). The car has minor scratches on the rear bumper and 1inch dents on the driver side passenger door. Some rust on the undercarriage. The interiors are in mint condition and the hybrid battery has good health. The people i have asked around say the price is outragous and shouldnt go anywhere near a rusted car. would this be a good deal?

Ryo Saeba

(Alternate Header Image 1 2)

"You pulled off a shrewd plan, I applaud you for that. But you made one mistake. You showed me the tears of a woman. And now you have to pay the price for it."

Anyone who has spent considerable time in Tokyo, or Japan as a whole for that matter, may have heard rumors about the blackboard in Shinjuku station. They say that if you have a problem and can't go to the police, all you have to do is write a note with the letters XYZ at the end and wait for the mysterious City Hunter to come and find you. However, pretty much anyone that's done this will tell you that the City Hunter isn't exactly the man you might expect.
At the incredibly young age of three years old, Ryo Saeba was traveling with his parents when their plane crashed in a country in Central America that was in the middle of a civil war. Being the sole survivor, Ryo wandered the jungle for days until he stumbled upon a village of guerilla fighters that were battling their country's government. The guerillas would only accept warriors that could fight with them, so Ryo joined their ranks in order to survive. They taught him everything they knew about fighting, weapons, and warfare until Ryo grew to be one of the most dangerous men on the battlefield. However, the government forces eventually overwhelmed them, chasing the guerillas out of the country. Now an adult, Ryo made his way to the United States and opted to become a sweeper, a mercenary/bounty hunteprivate detective that would perform just about any job that needed to be done off the books. Ryo partnered with Mick Angel, another sweeper and one of his best friends, to form the team known as City Hunter.
At some point, Ryo left the US and returned to Japan, the country of his birth, where he kept the City Hunter name for himself and continued doing sweeper work with a new partner, ex-detective Hideyuki Makimura. Ryo's reputation spread rapidly, and he quickly became known as one of the most dangerous men in the criminal underworld. So what's the problem? Well, he does have one weakness: Beautiful women. Despite his upbringing, Ryo is a goofy pervert and womanizer that would only accept jobs from the prettiest women around if he had his way. For awhile, he had Makimura to keep him in check, but he would meet a tragic end after refusing a job from a powerful drug syndicate, giving Ryo the dying request of looking after his little sister Kaori. Initially planning to help Kaori get out of the city, Ryo was surprised to find that Kaori wanted to take her brother's place as Ryo's assistant/partner and continue the work he thought was so important. Together, they became the newest iteration of City Hunter, sweeping the streets of Japan of evil and helping those in trouble.
While his methods may be questionable, rest assured that the City Hunter always sees a job through no matter what criminal organizations, serial killers, or assassins stand in his way.
Note:

• Surprisingly, City Hunter was never given a full official English translation until early 2022. While chapters have been releasing steadily since then, this translation is still far from complete. This thread uses all available pages of the official translation, but afterwards will be forced to rely on fan-translations. Also note that the English translation splits up the original release's chapters into smaller bits, so the chapter numbers won't align between the two. Despite occasionally using the English translation, feats will all be labeled with the original release's corresponding chapters.
• Kaori hitting Ryo in the head with hammers whenever he acts pervy is a running gag throughout the series, which results in some of his better durability feats. While it may seem best to write these off as gag feats, there's plenty of evidence to suggest these feats are actual aspects of the City Hunter world and should be taken literally.
  • The hammers are acknowledged by unrelated bystanders as too heavy to lift^Ch99
  • A hammer plays an integral part of a serious scene, with it's handle being destroyed leading into the villains kidnapping Kaori^Ch120
  • Kaori literally destroys their bath to prevent Ryo from getting intimate with a woman which affects the plot of that chapter^Ch145
  • Kaori is legitimately strong in her own right so these feats aren't unprecedented^Ch187
• The most notable feats in each section will be bolded.

Strength

Striking
Vs Enemies

• Knocks out a man with a pistol whip^Ch3
• Knocks out a biker far larger than him with a single punch to the stomach^Ch8
• Knocks out three Yakuza members with a camera^Ch45
• Incapacitates a large biker gang, including a member who was twice as tall as the others^Ch75
• Sends a large man flying down an alley and later knocks that same man out of a window^Ch121

Destructive Output

• Breaks a baton and sends a mob member far larger than him flying back^Ch6
• Smashes through a wall with a wooden mallet^Ch69
• Sends a man far larger than him flying back, destroying the set of a dance recital^Ch71
• Kicks open a locked door^Ch131
• Knocks a pair of thugs through a wooden door^Ch166
• Defeats a group of mercenaries offscreen, one of which was shown to have had his head smashed into a small crater in the ground^Ch174
• Kicks down a metal gate after shooting the lock^Ch175

Lifting/Throwing

• Carries Kaori away from an explosion^Ch5
• Catches a swing from a baseball bat^Ch8
• Lifts a student off the ground, smashing his head through the ceiling of the lecture hall and leaving a sizeable hole^Ch15
• Isn't slowed down at all as he carries his ally while fleeing a torrent of bullets^Ch21
• Catches one of Kaori's hammer swings^Ch47
  • The majority of Kaori's best hammer feats can be found in the Durability section for scaling
• Catches a punch from behind and throws the attacker hard enough to knock over some tombstones^Ch81
• Throws a knife hard enough to embed it in a wall^Ch95
• Lifts a man off the ground with one hand^Ch143
• Stands up while a giant spikey metal ball is tied to his back^Ch162
• Grabs a thugs arm and throws him out of his car^Ch164

Jumping/Charging

• Leaps through the ceiling of his apartment in terror^Ch65
• Dives with enough force to smash his head through a stone wall^Ch94
• While tied to a giant spikey metal ball, he lifts it up and uses it to crash through a wall and stop the man that was attacking his client^Ch162

Flicking

• Flicks pachinko balls with enough force to be painful^Ch46
• Flicks a pachinko ball hard enough that it knocks a knife out of a thug's hand which is embedded in the handle of a wheelchair^Ch102

Other

• Uses garrote wire to decapitate a man^Ch4
• Carries two girls to the surface of the water before they drowned^Ch35
• Digs his fingers and toes into stone to avoid falling into a spike trap^Ch53
• Bites through the tip of a spear^Ch93
• [Anti-Feat] Was unable to free himself after getting his dick trapped in the doors of a train^Ch104
• Bites and stabs his toes into a stone wall so that he could climb it despite being tied up^Ch109
• Easily catches the stab and breaks the wrist of a serial killer^Ch131

Speed

Travel

• After killing a suicide bomber he charges a short distance to knock him away before his body can fall to the ground^Ch5
• Pushes a woman out of the way of a speeding truck and then proceeds to briefly outrun that truck^Ch14
• Drastically outspeeds an ex-mercenary, catching up to a runaway baby stroller moments before it crashed into a ditch^Ch88
• In the time that it took a thug to enter a building and break into a girl's appartment, Ryo traveled all the way there from his appartment (the exact distance is unclear, but the reflection of the girl's telescope appears to be at least several blocks away)^Ch102
• While bra-lusted, he runs straight through a mine field and emerges unharmed^Ch154
• Instantly crosses a large warehouse to where his opponents were standing^Ch159

Reactions
Melee

• Sidesteps a biker's punch^Ch8
• Casually ducks under a girl's stab^Ch8
• Grabs someone so that they take a bat to the face for him when the swing was mere inches from his head^Ch35
• Easily dodges and catches a serial killer's stab^Ch130
• Ryo narrowly avoided Mick Angel's attacks after he had been injected with Angel Dust^Ch182
  • Angel dust increases muscular power beyond its limits^Ch184

Aim Dodging

• Leans back and narrowly avoids a point blank pistol shot from Miki, an ex-mercenary^Ch86
  • He later jumps around a store so that she was unable to land a shot on him^Ch86
• After Miki hypnotized herself to shoot him immediately after he said a certain key word, he was narrowly able to react in time to knock aside her gun^Ch88
• Avoids Koumori's aim long enough to get thrown his own gun and retaliate (Koumori is another professional hitman)^Ch124/118
• Pushes Kaori out of the way of a laser security system after it had activated (but not fired), which could respond fast enough to shoot a cigarette pack out of the air^Ch137
• Pushes a women to the ground just in time to avoid a gunshot from the street^Ch138
• Narrowly avoids Umibozu's shots at various points throughout their duel^Ch148
  • Ryo previously described Umibozu as a sniper of the highest caliber and one of the most dangerous guys in the business^Ch53
  • Umibozu is an incredible shot in his own right, hitting numerous perfect shots while blindfolded^Ch145
• Jumps to avoid nearly point blank machine gun fire from a professional assassin called the Black Lizard^Ch153
• Engages in a gunfight with Mick Angel, during which he climbed the outside of his building without getting hit^Ch175
  • Mick claims to be the number one sweeper in America and Umibozu corroborates this, saying that Mick is likely Ryo's equal in skill^Ch175
• Avoids the fire of several well trained soldiers at once^Ch191

Projectiles

• Moves Kaori out of the way of some thrown daggers^Ch6
• Avoids the explosion of a bazooka and immediately after runs out of the way of a collapsing tower^Ch12
• Dodges and reacts to various thrown, metal-edged playing cards^Ch23
• Reacts to a revolver round, moving his erection an instant before it was blasted off^Ch53
  • This comes with the caveat that Ryo already knew Umibozu was watching him to make sure he didn't act up, and he realized his mistake before the shot was fired^Ch53
• Catches a thrown knife with his teeth^Ch90
• Seemingly deflect trap arrows while sprinting down a booby trapped hallway^Ch93
• Chops two trap spears that were launched at him to the ground^Ch154
• Shoots through a knife after it was thrown at him^Ch162
• Narrowly reacts to darts fired from a mechanism on Mick's wrist^Ch188

Other

• Protects himself with a table before a grenade can explode in his face^Ch112
• Grabs Kaori and dives out of the way of an incoming plane^Ch116
• After triggering a car bomb it's revealed that he managed to avoid it^Ch167

Combat/Attacking

• When a drugged up opponent attacks him from behind, Ryo draws his gun and shoots him to the ground and, by the time he staggered to his feet, had already moved behind him to strangle him^Ch4
• Leaps high into the air, moving fast enough to seemingly vanish to his attackers^Ch8
• Repeatedly stabs the space between his fingers at high speeds without cutting himself^Ch10
• Moves faster than a soldier can track, appearing behind her after dodging her punch^Ch20
• Even while his opponent has a gun trained on him, Ryo throws a bra over his eyes and scampers into the ceiling before he can recover^Ch21
  • This man could react fast enough to catch knives thrown from a short distance away^Ch20
• Flicks a series of pachinko balls at some thugs at high speeds^Ch46
• Steals Reika's bra off her person before she can realize what happened^Ch59
• Beats up a group of Yakuza in a few seconds^Ch72
• Jumps over a shotgun blast, moving fast enough that the shooter assumed they hit him^Ch86
• When a disguised police detective has a gun trained on him, Ryo grabs and throws a scalpel into his hand before he can pull the trigger^Ch103

Quickdraw/Shooting

• Has multiple examples of shooting opponents who were already aiming at him
  • High ranking mob member^Ch6
  • Foreign prince that could react fast enough to catch knives thrown from a short distance away^Ch21/20
  • Assassin hired by a business man^Ch38
    • Bests this assassin again by throwing and shooting a bottle of nitroglycerine before he can pull his trigger^Ch39
  • Professional killer^Ch119
  • A well trained soldier^Ch190
• Quickdraws a shotgun to destroy his attacker's whip mid-swing^Ch9
• Using a mounted machine gun, he takes out a squad of terrorists before any of them could fire a single shot back^Ch19
• Beats his opponent in a quickdraw even after giving him a head start (this opponent also claimed to be more skilled than ordinary soldiers)^Ch19
• Quickdraws and fires before a Yakuza hitman had even grabbed his weapon, moving so fast that the hitman didn't believe him to be human^Ch23
• Notices a series of scalpels falling from the sky and shoots them out of the air before they can hit his client^Ch38
• Uses his gun to disarm six thugs in a split second before any of them could pull their triggers despite having their guns trained on him and then immediately does it again^Ch76
• Beats a hitman in a quickdraw, disarming him and destroying his belt to drop his pants before he realized what happened^Ch90
• Defeats Koumori, not just in a quickdraw but actually managing to hit him in the face with his gun before the other man pulled his trigger (Koumori is another professional hitman)^Ch124/118
• While Umibozu had his gun trained on him, Ryo managed to pull his gun and fire in the same time it took Umibozu to only pull his trigger^Ch149
  • Ryo previously described Umibozu as a sniper of the highest caliber and one of the most dangerous guys in the business^Ch53
• Shoots multiple hidden explosives in an instant^Ch159

Agility/Mobility

Acrobatics

• Vaults over a countertop and tackles a cashier to the ground to avoid a torrent of gunfire^Ch30
• Flips out of the way of an incoming truck from a seated position^Ch74
• Performs several back handsprings to distance himself from an explosion^Ch154

Jumping

• Leaps high enough to smash through his ceiling^Ch65
• Narrowly avoids a car slamming into him by jumping up into a tree^Ch65
• Leaps from a stage and gets tangled in the lights^Ch68
• Repeatedly jumping across a street while traversing rooftops without any sleep the night before^Ch94
• [NSFW] After falling from a rooftop, he leaps back up to retaliate against his opponent^Ch95
• Leaps up to a second story platform where his opponents were standing^Ch159

Climbing

• Gets out of sight just as a group of guards opened the door to the roof he was on, hiding on a window below^Ch27
• Rapidly scales the side of a building^Ch94
• Performs pullups by sticking his fingers into holes in the ceiling^Ch102
• Clings to the side of a window^Ch102
• Climbs down a wall like Spider-Man^Ch109
  • He has done this on several occasions^Ch173
• Scales the outside of his building during a gunfight^Ch175

Hanging

• Dangles from a rope by his feet like a spider^Ch68
• Clings to a windowsill by his toes^Ch98

Propping/Wedging

• Props himself in the top corner of a room^Ch65
• Wedges himself between two ceiling rafters^Ch82
• When he's attacked mid-shit, he leaps up and props himself in the bathroom's ceiling so that he can disarm his attacker^Ch87
• Hides from Kaori by going into an alley and propping himself high between two buildings^Ch102
• [NSFW] Props himself between the wall and ceiling of a shower at an impossible angle^Ch161
• Taunts a kidnapper from behind in an alley and wedges himself between the two walls above him in the time it took him to turn around^Ch170

Swinging

• Uses a rope to swing onto a stage and save an idol from a rabid mob^Ch24
• Rides a wrecking ball through the side of a Yakuza clan's headquarters^Ch84

Recovery

• Falls through a trap door and catches himself on the walls before landing in a spike trap^Ch53
• After the rope he was dangling from was cut, he managed to save himself by grabbing a ledge^Ch162

Other

• Drops onto a moving car from a tree branch, maintaining his balance with apparent ease even when the car crashes into a light pole^Ch16
• Runs along walls while avoiding booby traps^Ch93
• Spies through a window by hand standing on top of the windowsill^Ch106
• Saves a man from a collapsing floor^Ch114

Durability

Blunt

• Kaori embeds him into the ground and then smashes his head through the side of a building^Ch52
• A massive hammer craters him into a wall^Ch62
• Gets sent flying through a door and embedded in a wall^Ch68
• Kaori hits him hard enough to make a crater bigger than he is^Ch78
• Kaori smashes an entire bed over his head, partially sending him through his apartment's floor^Ch79
• Kaori knocks him through the wall of a bathhouse and he isn't bothered at all^Ch85
• Umibozu slams him into a wall hard enough to crater it and he immediately recovered^Ch87
• Takes blows from Umibozu on multiple different ocassions, with Umibozu being strong enough to crush the top of a car and and split a wooden table in half with his strikes^{Ch147/90/55/146}
• Immediately gets up after Kaori smashes him into the pavement^Ch104
• Gets smacked into a light post, severely bending it^Ch109
• Kaori smashes his upper body through the wall of a hotel^Ch109
• Umibozu rips a lamp post from the ground and throws it at Ryo's face hard enough to bend it^Ch146
• Kaori knocks him through a stone wall^Ch151
• Kaori craters him into the roof of their building^Ch175

Piercing

• Getting swarmed by piranhas and has no visible damage after^Ch112
• Gets slammed by a giant spiked ball trap with no visible puncture wound afterwards^Ch151

Explosive

• Gets caught in a trap where multiple grenades and dynamite packs explode on top of him, blasting a hole in the side of his apartment building^Ch87
  • Here is the destruction from that blast from several other angles^Ch88
• Is hit with a pointblank explosion that destroys a wall in his appartment^Ch102
• Repeatedly shoots through a plane from the inside, causing it to blowup so he can escape^Ch119

Falling

• Jumps from the top of a mansion and lands face first on top of a sunroom on ground level though this does leave him in a complete daze the next time we see him^Ch21
• Jumps from his apartment and crashes onto a car below, heavily denting the top of it without injury^Ch32
  • We see in a later chapter that Ryo lives on the fifth floor^Ch67
• Gets dropped from the fourth floor of a hospital, crashing into the pavement and forming a fairly large crater^Ch38
• [NSFW] Falls from a rooftop and craters into the street^Ch93

Electrical

• Kaori electrocutes him twice with a defibrillator and he immediately gets up (though the third time causes his heart to stop)^Ch47
  • Afterwards he was revealed to have been temporarily crippled by the attacks^Ch47
• A door trap electrocutes him and soon after the same thing happens when he touches barred windows^Ch53

Endurance/Survivability

• Saeko kicks him in the face with heels, puncturing his forehead^Ch19
• Has sex with forty women over the course of two weeks, leaving him visibly drained but still able to continue^Ch21
• Gets a needle smashed into his skull^Ch38
• Capable of fighting effectively even with a broken leg^Ch38
• Gets his head flattened by a hammer immediately snaps back into shape^Ch42
• Gets flattened and pops back into shape^Ch69
• Kaori hits him with a spikey metal ball and a spike goes straight through his head^Ch97
• Drank extensively for two days straight without sleep and was still able to operate at normal efficiency^Ch159

Other

• An onslaught of gunfire sends him flying back into his car (though he was protected from the bullets themselves by a bullet proof vest)^Ch6
• Gets trampled by a crowd of rabid idol fans that had previously burst through several walls^Ch24
• Gets crushed under a large weight^Ch67
• His Super Mokkori pushes him up against concrete with enough force to crack it^Ch86
• Is standing on the roof of a several story tall abandoned building when Kaori accidentally triggers the explosives she'd filled it with, causing the building to collapse and he survives^Ch175
• Pray for his recovery...^Ch185
  • Oh god not again...^Ch185
• After getting injected with a tranquilizer, he was able to defend a surgeon immediately after, claiming a Yakuza's animosity negated the tranquilizer's effects^Ch186

Cock

Yes, you read that right. Ryo's penis, his erection, his boner, his mokkori. It's frankly capable of some pretty incredible things and seems to have stats that are completely independent of Ryo's other physical abilities. So much so that it's probably best to have an entire section of the thread dedicated to it. I'm not sorry.
Physicals
Strength/Growing Power

• Tilts a table^Ch15
• Bursts through bullet proof glass^Ch21
• [NSFW] Supports a 100kg weight^Ch28
• After getting placed in a steel chastity belt, Ryo eventually gets a boner so strong that it breaks through^Ch32
  • Though this does leave him in a... rough state^Ch32
• Bursts straight through a wall (though he was unable to free himself afterwards)^Ch40
• Traps Ryo's head between it and the roof of a car like a vice^Ch46
• Knocks a door off its hinges^Ch73
• Pushes against a store's wooden support beams with enough force to crack concrete and eventually destroy several of the wooden beams^Ch86

Speed

• Moves to avoid a bullet from a revolver when is was an inch away from hitting him^Ch53

Durability

• [NSFW] Is electrocuted when it touches a mannequin that had been attached to an electrical outlet, and after the initial shock Ryo recovered mostly fine^Ch24
• Withstands getting smashed through a wall twice^Ch45
• Caves in Ryo's face when his head is slammed into it by Kaori, implying its durability is higher than that of Ryo himself^Ch48
• A rapist breaks his ankle trying to kick it^Ch48
• [NSFW][Anti-Feat] Gets trapped in the door of a train^Ch104
  • This was revealed to have seriously injured him^Ch104

Abilities
Detecting Women

• His boner let him detect that his assailant was a pretty woman even when he couldn't see them in the dark^Ch12
• Ryo acts up after accidentally walking in on his client who had disguised herself as a man, despite not actually seeing through the disguise himself^Ch77
• [NSFW] Acts as a "beauty detector" to lead him towards beautiful women, but it has been fooled by dirty magazines before^Ch104

Other

• Even if you don't use your eyes Ryo is canonically packing heat^Ch38
• I just... I... uhhh...^Ch45
• Can repeatedly retract it at will and at a moment's notice^Ch45
• [Anti-Feat] Seeing a princess in a leotard did nothing for him, with Ryo describing it as if she has an aura that blocks his horny power^Ch65
  • He later describes this aura as "the repulsion of a girl who didn't know what love was", which disappeared when the princess began to fall for him^Ch65
  • The princess' handler later describes it a "noble aura" that not even Ryo can break through^Ch65

Gear

Firearms

• Colt .357 Magnum^Ch2
  • Has a second magnum he keeps in an ankle holster for if the first one runs out of ammo^Ch6
  • Comes with a scope for longer distance shots and a silencer which was effective enough that he didn't draw attention after firing in the middle of a crowd of people^Ch28/10
  • While it theoretically only holds six bullets he has fired more than that either without reloading or by seamlessly reloading between shots^Ch28
  • Strong enough to fire straight through a plane's exterior (also another example of firing more than six shots in rapid succession)^Ch119
  • Was modified by a legendary gunsmith to be more accurate^Ch124
  • Shots partially destroy various gravestones^Ch147
  • Fires straight through a stone wall into the opposite wall^Ch175
• .44 Magnum^Ch19
• .41 Magnum (he considers this to be a "one of a thousand" gun with far greater accuracy than other firearms)^Ch19
• M36 Revolver^Ch7
• M686 Revolver^Ch90
• Rifle^Ch1
• Pump-Action Shotgun^Ch6
• Machine Gun^Ch26
• Submachine Gun^Ch114
• Sniper rifle^Ch27

Other Long Ranged Weapons

• Bazooka^Ch37
  • Blasts large craters in the street^Ch37
  • Kaori later used one to blast sizeable holes in concrete^Ch114
• Twin RPGs^Ch191
• Crossbow with short arrows, making them impossible to pull out^Ch2
• Various throwing knives lining his inner coat^Ch11
• Pachinko balls which he can flick with pinpoint accuracy^Ch102

Melee Weapons

• Garrote wire^Ch4
• Hidden ankle blades^Ch5
• A glove with a metal attachment that gives a secondary blow to whoever he punches^Ch6
• Brass knuckles^Ch25
• A hidden knife in his belt buckle^Ch142

Ammo

• Full metal jacket bullets for his Colt Python that ricochet off of solid surfaces and produce sparks when they do^Ch3
• A golden .500 Nitro Express that Ryo claimed can move a 2 ton object a whole foot when fired from over 100 meters away, which when fired into a target's ear sticks to the inside of their skull without piercing through^Ch1
• A .30 M1 Carbine Jacket that fires and spins slowly enough that it can shoot through a man's stomach without damaging any internal organs, resulting in a wound rather than a fatal shot^Ch10
• Rubber bullets^Ch28

Explosives

• Nitroglycerine, which Ryo claims an entire spilled bottle would blow a pair of kidnappers to smitherines^Ch16
• Remote explosives which he uses to destroy a lab^Ch37
• Dynamite that when used repeatedly eventually resulted in a yakuza clan's headquarters to be completely leveled (the headquarters was a fairly tall building)^Ch84
• His partner Kaori has shown to pack grenades which she would've gotten from his armory^Ch168
  • This is true for flash bangs as well^Ch172

Espionage/Tracking/Surveillance

• Small microphones to bug targets^Ch6
• Police radio^Ch6
• Homing transmitter^Ch42
  • Ryo has dozens of them attached to people of interest around the city, all of which he can track using a device in his car^Ch80
  • Their signals are fairly weak, having a range of only one kilometer^Ch80
• Gear that allows him to listen in on Umibozu's phone call^Ch174

Chemicals

• A ring laced with fast acting poison^Ch5
• A fast acting sleeping pill which he stores in his tooth^Ch20
  • Says that someone he used it on would sleep "at least till tomorrow" (the time of day he used it is unclear but it would presumably be at least 12 hours)^Ch113
• His secret weapon PATCH-WORK PATTERN PANTALOONS (a pair of boxer briefs that are filled with packets of various chemicals, including anesthetics, truth serum, and sleeping agents)^Ch20
• Instant acting sleeping powder^Ch64

Other

• Bullet proof vest (along with fake blood packs to be extra convincing)^Ch6
• Ear plugs^Ch109
• Lighter^Ch142
• The inner lining of his coat is lined with a special chemical that, when burned, causes a massive cloud of tear gas to emit from it and the outer coat is packed with plastic explosives and a detonator^Ch142
  • He also keeps various hidden weapons in the lining of his coat, such as a dismantled revolver, a miniature time bomb that he uses to blow up a criminal organization's ammo depot, and most importantly condoms^Ch141/142

This Thread is Continued in the Comments Below

Tried on a dress at a store. The magnetic sensor security tag thing was not put on there correctly and when I put the dress on it scratched me pretty bad. I didn’t tell a worker that I was injured, just that it came off and she put it back on the dress.
After a few days, it became infected and nasty. I had to go to the hospital, was given a vaccine, some IV antibiotics, and was kept over night.
I live in South Carolina, USA. My health insurance covered some but of course not enough. Do I have a case where I could get the store to help pay for it? Or no because I didn’t tell them I was hurt? Or no because I tried on the clothes myself? Does anyone know? I’m a young nurse who’s recently graduated and still have student loans. Just would rather not have to put a dent in my bank account if I don’t have to

So I don't know how to interperte this but here goes what happened. I have some ward stones set on my property that I set up years ago and regularly maintain as just an insurance policy or maybe I'm just paranoid living out in the middle of no where. Today, or rather at 10pm, I stepped out as usual to walk my dog and stepped on one of my ward stones set right infront of my door. It was unbroken, not tainted, not even drained or scratched or dented. Just setting there for me to find. I believe it was my north facing ward but i won't know for certain till I check in the morning. Any ideas?