Lost Bet - playful ideas for what I should have her do ...

Going through old issues of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter and posting highlights in my own words, continuing in the footsteps of daprice82. For anyone interested, I highly recommend signing up for the actual site at f4wonline and checking out the full archives.
• PREVIOUS •
1987
FUTURE YEARS ARCHIVE:
The Complete Observer Rewind Archive and 2002 by daprice82

1-4-1988	1-11-1988	1-18-1988	1-25-1988
2-1-1988	2-8-1988	2-15-1988	2-22-1988
2-29-1988	3-7-1988	3-14-1988	3-21-1988
3-28-1988	4-4-1988	4-11-1988	4-18-1988
4-25-1988	5-2-1988	5-9-1988	5-16-1988
5-23-1988	5-30-1988	6-6-1988	6-13-1988
6-20-1988	6-27-1988	7-4-1988	7-11-1988
7-18-1988	7-25-1988	*	*

Rewinder note: With the end of the 2002 Rewinds and the opening of Wednesdays as a space, I'm going to aim for getting these up on Wednesdays going forward instead of Thursdays. I'm settling into my work enough now that I think I may even be able to start getting out ahead of these some, and eventually I hope to get back to a twice a week schedule. Not yet, but that's a goal.

• Bruiser Brody’s murder remains the biggest story of the week, to the point that there really isn’t that much to this issue other than Dave’s full-length obituary for Brody. Last week Dave spent two pages on the story and giving a solid career overview, but this week 60% of the issue is all Brody, and it’s a near-comprehensive essay on Brody’s life, career, and his final days. I’m not about to be able to cover every nuance of this essay, and if the balance of this issue were similar to the ones where daprice82 briefly touches on the obituary I’d do as he does and just give a brief paragraph and a suggestion to read the full obit. But this issue is pretty much a Bruiser Brody memorial issue in its entirety, with just over 6 pages of obituary, 3/4 a page of headlines, and 3 pages of letters. There’s nothing worthwhile in the letters this issue, so 90% of the worthwhile material in this issue is the 7200 word obituary for Brody. The way I see it, the proportionality of this issue makes the standard procedure of giving a short paragraph extolling Dave’s obituary writing not feasible - the Mr. Wrestling obituary in the December 16, 2002 Rewind was of comparable length, but takes up less than 25% of the issue and leaves plenty of stuff to cover. If I did a 135 word stub, we’d probably have a rewind with more space devoted to the archive of past rewinds than to the material in this issue, and that feels weak. To that end, I’m going to give a condensed version of the obituary (with occasional comments to further contextualize Brody for a 21st century readership) that, including those additional comments, clocks in under half the length and still gives us a respectable length for the rewind. This is fortunately one of three issues up on the Observer archive from 1988, so if you are interested in reading the whole unedited essay (and I encourage you to do so, it’s an incredible read), I highly encourage you to do so. I’m not going to pretend that this even holds a candle to the full obituary, but I do hope to represent it well enough.
  
• Bruiser Brody was going to main event so many shows at the end of the summer and beginning of fall, and his murder has significantly disrupted the wrestling world. What was happening on July 16, 1988 when Brody was stabbed? Giant Baba was planning on Bruiser Brody vs. Stan Hansen, which would have been a sure sellout, to main event his August 29 show. In Puerto Rico, Carlos Colón was preparing for his own biggest show of the year, WWC’s anniversary show on September 10. The Aniversario was to be shown on closed-circuit throughout the Caribbean and even live on FNN/Score in the U.S., which would make it the first major show from overseas to be shown in the U.S. and Brody was to be in the main event there, too. Otto Wanz was surely still upset, because he’d had Brody booked to job to him in the biggest show of the year in Europe, but Brody decided against going because publicity of that loss in Japan would hurt him as a draw. Every small promotion in the United States, if they were planning a show and wanted to make money, they were thinking about calling Bruiser Brody. And on that afternoon, Frank Goodish called his wife Barbara as he did every afternoon he was on the road. Nothing seemed amiss. He’d be home Monday and didn’t have any foreign tours lined up for another month. But Frank Goodish, Bruiser Brody, died on the operating table early the next morning, suffering stab wounds inflicted by Invader #1 backstage during the show on Sunday. Fuck Invader #1.
  
• In 1988, Bruiser Brody was one of a kind. To those of us who live in 2021, most of us have never seen a wrestler quite like him. It’s not even a matter of gimmick. He truly was a unique figure in the business, one of the top stars internationally in a way that allowed him to be able to go where he wanted, when he wanted, to effectively command whatever price he wanted, and to inspire as much awe in his fellow wrestlers as he did fans. And he could do it without working a grueling full-time schedule for the WWF or NWA, or really any single promotion. Perhaps the closest you might be able to come up with today would be Brock Lesnar, but even Brock Lesnar doesn’t hold a candle to Brody in that level of independence. So many wrestlers copied Brody’s look, his gimmick, his every little movement. And yet, while he was the biggest name everywhere outside the U.S., he never was the guy in the U.S. He rarely did jobs, earning him a reputation stateside as hard to do business with, and would often change finishes mid-match to suit his sense of business (another difference from Brock). Brody knew what he was worth and fiercely protected his image, and more often than not his ruthless approach to business was more on the pulse than the promoter’s, so there wasn’t much room to complain after he did things his way.
  
• Dave next gives a much more thorough overview of Brody’s early life and start in wrestling than we got last week. His youth and football career all paint the picture that he was never quite able to have the discipline to work as a team player. He became a sportswriter and played minor league football and wound up meeting Ivan Putski while lifting weights, and Putski convinced him to become a wrestler in 1973. He worked everywhere. Leroy McGuirk’s Mid South territory took him on first, and he soon debuted for World Class, getting his big break in 1975 in Florida as Frank “The Hammer” Goodish, where he won the Florida title from Rocky Johnson. In the WWWF he got the name “Bruiser” Frank Brody, becoming Bruno Sammartino’s challenger following Billy Graham and Stan Hansen’s stints in the role. Brody had a good run, but when it ended, work in the U.S. dried up for him and he went to New Zealand, where he met his wife, Barbara. He came back to World Class in 1977 to wrestle Fritz Von Erich, and Brody’s willingness to bleed made Fritz’s Iron Claw one of the most feared holds ever. His cool factor ensured he was a perennial babyface no matter what, and by 1978 Brody was already one of the highest paid wrestlers ever. Through Fritz, Brody secured his first Japan tour with Giant Baba in 1979, where he completely changed the business by opening the door to huge American monsters being dominant figures in Japanese wrestling. Brody, along with Stan Hansen, changed the game and made it so Americans in Japan didn’t simply fall into the pattern of working a few weeks getting put over in order to be fed to Baba or Inoki, but could be stars in their own right. He became a fan favorite, and while he didn’t let Japanese wrestlers get their shit in, the money he brought in made it more than worth it. He was well-regarded in the Japanese press and got the nickname “The Intelligent Monster.”
  

Watch: a bit of Bruiser Brody in his WWWF run, wrestling Bruno Sammartino in 1976

• Brody was not, however, popular among American promoters, who felt his success in Japan had made him too uncontrollable. Wrestling promoters, like C-suite executives in any other business, are highly protective of their power over the rank-and-file employees. Labor works to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads, while executives wield power over them and hold the stability of workers’ lives in the palms of their hands. An individual worker negotiates from a position of weakness in nearly all cases (this is why unions are necessary). Not so with Brody. He was in a position of strength like few others before or since in wrestling, the same kind of strength as Hogan, Hall, and Nash had in 1996, or Brock enjoys today. He guaranteed money and could get over anywhere faster than anyone save perhaps Andre the Giant. And he proved this after Sam Muchnick retired and the St. Louis promotion was run by a committee. Larry Matysik, a member of that committee, not only broke from the NWA and crowned Brody as his star, but actually outdrew the NWA. With Brody’s insane popularity, it was impossible to blacklist him, and when Vince Jr. took WWF national, the NWA territories couldn’t afford a bad relationship with Brody. They needed Brody in order to try and compete, but he didn’t need them. Bruiser Brody was bigger than the NWA.
  
• Prior to WWF’s national expansion, the big money was in Japan, and Brody was in the thick of the Baba/Inoki rivalry. Inoki had the lead in 1983 thanks to Tiger Mask, Riki Choshu, Dynamite Kid, Hulk Hogan, and Abdullah the Butcher. When Tiger Mask retired and Terry Funk announced his first retirement (and subsequently went back on it and pissed off fans in Japan), Inoki’s lead faltered, and Baba took the lead in 1984 by signing Choshu and his crew. Then in 1985 Vince McMahon held Inoki up for a bigger booking fee for his wrestlers to work Japan (Vince demanded a tenfold increase to $500k/year to book his wrestlers), Inoki lost his biggest foreign draw. Unable to hurt McMahon, Inoki contented himself to strike at Baba by signing Brody out from under him. Baba had brought in the Road Warriors, who got mega-over mega-fast and immediately started making money equal to Brody ($10,000 per week). Brody signed a deal with Inoki, but not before asserting himself against Choshu with a stiff kick and a refusal to let Choshu have any advantage on the March 9, 1985 live tv show and walking out of All Japan during a six-man tag match on the March 23 tv show. His deal with Inoki was the most lucrative in the history of the business to that point (the deal was for $14k/week in 1985, stepping up to $16k in 1986 and $18k in 1987, with a six-figure signing bonus for commitment to 16 weeks a year, plus bonuses for getting other Americans to sign on with Inoki for tours).
  

Watch: Bruiser Brody tags out, then leaves mid-match on his way out of All Japan

• Brody’s New Japan run wasn’t all sunshine and roses, and he wasn’t fully convinced the money was worth the headache. Inoki’s tours were more stressful and disorganized, and Inoki put major pressure on Brody to lie down for him in the ring. And while they drew big houses at first, Inoki’s relentless booking of the Brody/Inoki match had cooled the feud off entirely because neither man would take a loss. Brody hadn’t done a job since 1981, and part of the stalemate had to do with Brody’s value in bringing American talent into New Japan, including getting Fritz Von Erich to associate with Inoki over Baba. Meanwhile, as Vince McMahon prepared for Wrestlemania, promoters stateside figured it was do-or-die for the WWF and one promoter tried to get Brody on board with sabotaging the event by jumping Mr. T as he came down the aisle at Madison Square Garden. Brody didn’t bite, because that would have been a stupid business move, and Brody didn’t do stupid business moves. By the end of the year, Inoki still hadn’t paid him his finder’s fee for bringing in American talent, and it all exploded in a match with Seiji Sakaguchi where who started things remains up for debate, but Brody ended it by legitimately attacking Sakaguchi’s knee with his chain. Sakaguchi wasn’t just talent, though. He was New Japan’s booker, and the next day he sent a message to Brody on the train to the next show. Who knows what it said, but Brody and Jimmy Snuka (in solidarity with Brody) got off the train and returned to their hotel, losing out on a $40,000 payday for Brody (pay comes at the end of the tour in Japan) and a big payday for Snuka as well. And as it appeared Brody’s career in Japan was over, Crockett and McMahon’s national bids were killing the territories in America, where desperate smaller promotions called upon Brody to help their ailing gates. Brody and McMahon negotiated, and whether it was McMahon’s wariness about Brody’s ability to follow direction or Brody’s inability to accept limitations on his own independence, nothing came of it. Were he still alive, Dave thinks it likely Brody would have eventually taken a deal with McMahon to make good money as he closed out his career heading into the 90s. In an amusing aside, Dave imagines that had this happened, some more casual fans would have thought Brody an early 90s imitation of Hacksaw Jim Duggan.
  
• In the summer of 1986, Brody and Inoki worked a show together in Hawaii, which led to him returning to Japan for two matches in September and discussion of a return run with pay likely exceeding $20,000 a week. The return run never happened. New Japan was in a complete spiral, and we never got Brody vs. Akira Maeda, who was beginning to establish himself as a tough guy who would have done amazing business with Brody, though it’s certain neither would have done the job for the other. Yet Brody’s career didn’t miss a step. He worked in World Class for a few months and was in demand everywhere as Wrestlemania III increased interest and breathed new life into the independent scene. He did his first job in 6 years to Abdullah the Butcher. He filled in for Ric Flair in October 1987 for Baba and won the most popular foreign wrestler award in Japan by a mile. His career was as strong as ever. And in the course of his career, Brody had seen many wrestlers pass too early. The wrestling industry is a brutal one with constant late night travel and heavy drug use contributing to numerous vehicular accidents and drug-related deaths. Brody was there when David Von Erich died and was the booker for World Class when Mike Von Erich took his own life, and swore he had a premonition of Mike’s death a week or two beforehand. Brody was no stranger to the dark side of the ring.
  

Watch: David Von Erich’s Japanese funeral

• Brody debuted as a heel in Puerto Rico in 1983, and as always he did what he wanted rather than what he was told. Brody’s business sense meant what he wanted always worked, and booker Tom Renesto eventually gave up on telling Brody what to do, entrusting him to handle his own matches. Puerto Rico seemed like the one place where Brody could be Brody and the promotion was happy. He turned face around a year or two ago, saving Invader #1, real name José González, from a double team by Jason the Terrible and Abdullah the Butcher. There was no hint of any tensions between Brody and the promotion. He and Carlos Colón had a shouting match several months back because he made the tag champs look like jobbers, but he’d worked tours since and even volunteered to lose via countout to Dory Funk Jr. in the spring Gillette Cup. On July 14, Brody even rode into San Juan to start the tour with González (booker) and Victor Quiñones (who handled the box office), Colón’s business partners. Brody even considered Quiñones his best friend in Puerto Rico. If there was bad blood, it was kept close to the vest and nobody knew about it, least of all Brody. He’d been in a lot of fights, but he’d never lost one in large part because he was never caught off guard. Dave’s heard dozens of different stories about July 16, and near as he can piece together, the following is the most accurate account we may ever get, at least until any criminal investigations and trials bring new information.
  
• Brody rode into Bayamón on July 16 with Dutch Mantell and Tony Atlas. He was scheduled third from the top of the card against Danny Spivey, under the Invaders vs. Ron and Chicky Star in a cage match and Colón defending the Universal Title against Abdullah the Butcher. The crowd was only 8,000, probably a disappointment to the office. Brody and co. arrived at 7:15 pm, showtime to begin at 8:30, and the babyfaces were already there in the locker room. González apparently sat on a bench with a large towel over his hand, and about five minutes later asked Brody to the bathroom for a private meeting (not unusual in wrestling), saying “Brody, mi amigo, come here por favor.” Dave doesn’t name his witness, but I’d wager a guess it’s Atlas who described Brody following González into the bathroom “like a lamb being led to slaughter.” Five seconds after the door closed, loud screams rang out and one wrestler claims to have seen the actual stabbing through the plexiglass wall of the bathroom. Panic. Brody stumbles out of the bathroom and González leaves, eventually returning with a change of clothes and winds up working his match. The ring doctor comes to the dressing room. Brody’s lung was pierced, his liver punctured, and arteries had been severed, causing air bubbles in his blood. He was still fully conscious. Brody spoke to Colón from the floor and told him “No matter what happens, please, take care of my boy.” An ambulance arrived around 7:45 pm and Atlas went with Brody to the hospital. When the hospital refused to let him stay, he returned to the stadium and wrestled his match, because the show went on anyway. The fans were not told. It’s not clear what the heel locker room was told, or even when they found anything out. The promotion claims to have believed Brody had stabilized by that night, and most of the wrestlers believe the promotion’s claim not to have known how serious Brody’s condition was.
  
• Carlos Colón’s wife called Barbara Goodish late that night and told her a terrible accident had occurred and she should head to Puerto Rico. Barbara called her husband’s hotel, perhaps believing it to be a prank, and the hotel clerk put her on the phone with Mantell, who told her things were rough and to come to Puerto Rico. Neither the wrestler nor Barbara knew how bad it was. When she and 7-year old Geoffrey arrived at the hospital, they were met by Abdullah the Butcher, who broke the news that her husband had died on the operating table early that morning. The World Wrestling Council’s July 17 show in Mayagüez was to go on as scheduled, and word hadn’t reached the public. A number of the American wrestlers no-showed, with several leaving immediately and many of the babyfaces leaving statements with the police. Some of the heels still didn’t know. González was present and ready to work. Colón asked the wrestlers to work the show and claimed it was what Frank would have wanted. The show wound up cancelled because too few wrestlers stuck around. On the 18th, González was arrested for first degree murder and a weapons violation. The weapon was never recovered, and he was released after posting bond. He’s scheduled for arraignment on August 8. Dave covers his career in brief, noting that some of his peers thought of him as a hot-head and others said he wasn’t well-liked (a not-uncommon state of affairs for a booker, so this tells us less than we’d like).
  
• As we reach the end of this story, a single question remains: why? Why is Bruiser Brody dead? Why is Barbara Goodish a widow? According to the police, González asked Brody to do a job to Spivey on Saturday night and Brody refused. But that’s not a motive for murder. And it doesn’t add up with the described timing of events, or Brody’s good mood upon arriving at the stadium. He would have been on edge and ready to argue had it been discussed earlier. Some newspapers are reporting money issues. Dave doesn’t know what Brody’s deal for the tour was, but it would have been set well in advance, and typically wrestlers who come to Puerto Rico get a check in the mail a few weeks after their tour is over so they don’t have to carry a lot of cash back to the States. There’s rumor that Brody owned a share of the company and they wanted it back, but Dave’s seen no evidence for that. Another rumor holds that González wasn’t in his right mind because his daughter had drowned earlier that week, but while she did drown, that accident happened six months earlier. Ultimately, Dave doesn’t have an answer for us as to why. Sometimes there is no clear-cut why. Maybe there was discontent over Brody’s way of doing business. Maybe González snapped out of paranoia about keeping his spot in the babyface pecking order. Only González knows for sure, and so far he’s not telling.
  
• Brody’s funeral was Tuesday, and hundreds of fans in Puerto Rico and wrestlers and reporters and photographers attended, and Geoffrey reportedly told his mother “I’m not going to embarrass Daddy by crying at his funeral.” World Wrestling Council had another show the next night, with a banner signed by several thousand fans that read “We the wrestling fans of Puerto Rico wish to extend our deepest sympathies to the family and friends of Bruiser Brody. Please don’t judge the people of Puerto Rico by the actions of one mad man.” The murder of Bruiser Brody made major headlines in Japan and Puerto Rico, got a lot of coverage in Texas, and got reported in places like New Zealand, Australia, and Thailand. Outside of Texas, though, the news went unreported in most of the U.S. Neither the WWF nor the NWA acknowledged a thing, unsurprising since WWF didn’t acknowledge Adrian Adonis’s death and he had been a major star for them. World Class is the biggest promotion to acknowledge Brody’s passing, and they plan to give away Brody memorabilia at upcoming shows. Entertainment Tonight is planning a special on Brody and Adonis for next week. So where do things stand, now that Bruiser Brody is no longer with us? The independents have lost their best weapon in the fight for survival against extinction. Giant Baba faces the challenge of opposing UWF without his biggest draw. Invader #1 is officially no longer with the World Wrestling Council, but Brody’s blood has stained that promotion and it will be a long time if ever before they can wash out that damn spot. Their Anniversary show? No longer going to broadcast in the States, and original plans for three venues have been scrapped. Dave concludes by revisiting December 13, 1981. And this I’ll quote in full:
  

It was time for the finals of Giant Baba’s annual tag team tournament. Bruiser Brody and Jimmy Snuka were facing off against The Funk Brothers. The match started out slow, but built up to the point that it is generally regarded as one of the greatest matches in the history of the Orient. Certainly it was among the most memorable. All four men were at their best here and when the dust settled, Stan Hansen had shocked the crowd by showing up at ringside (he had just a few days earlier finished a tour with Inoki, and this arrival signalled his jump to Baba). Brody pinned Dory after a kneedrop to win the tournament. For the next three years, Brody and Hansen repeated the same scene, not always winning, but always getting into the finals of the tournament, and on the final night having classic matches that fans will never forget. And that’s the bottom line. Whether you saw him before 200 fans at an independent show, where he made the building look like a tornado had just hit when he was finished, or at a major arena before a sellout crowd, Brody was one of those rare wrestling personalities that fans will never forget.

Read: Dutch Mantell’s recollection of the murder of Bruiser Brody, and Brody’s 1983 shoot on giving back to wrestling when it’s time to wind down his career
Watch: Bruiser Brody and Jimmy Snuka vs. The Funk Brothers, December 13, 1981

• On to the news. The Great American Bash ppv drew somewhere between a 3.5 and 4% buyrate, grossing between $5.5 and $6 million. Outside of Wrestlemanias 3 & 4 and Survivor Series and a couple boxing events, it’s now the highest grossing event in the history of pay-per-view (wrestling was absolutely integral to making ppv a successful model for cable companies). That’s in line with expectations and the cable companies that carried it have already signed to carry the next ppv in December, so that show should be a success. Dave doesn’t seem to have quite figured out that the December show will be Starrcade, but we’ll get there eventually. Also as expected, the Bash did monster rates in the Carolinas and the southeast, where it beat Wrestlemania IV’s numbers, and only okay at best elsewhere such as a 2.2% in New York. Yeah, about that buyrate… next week’s going to dig into the numbers more and it’s not good for Crockett, because 3.5%-4% is some bullshit.
  
• The Tokyo newspaper Yoshitake published the first report from the TBS side of the TurneNWA negotiations and quoted TBS executive Jack Patrick as saying he will have jurisdiction over the NWA after the buy-out. According to Patrick, TBS will set policy for the company, Patrick will be in charge of enforcing it, and Crockett and Rhodes would handle the wrestling end of things. He also said finalization of the sale will be completed within 60 days. It’ll be just a touch longer than that, but we’re near the end of the JCP/NWA era and near the beginning of World Championship Wrestling.
  
• The LawleVon Erich title unification match in Memphis on July 18 resulted in Lawler winning by disqualification after Von Erich used a piledriver on Lawler. Apparently the piledriver is illegal in Memphis (or is it that it’s illegal to piledrive Lawler?). As a result, no titles changed hands, even though by World Class rules Lawler should now be unified champion because the World Class belt does change hands on a disqualification. Someone forgot about that here, though.
  
• Verne Gagne is getting the AWA onto ppv with Wrestlerock III on November 6. Capacity at the Metrodome is 55,000 seats and ZZ Top have been contracted to perform in concert during the show. Gagne originally planned the show to go on November 8, but someone clued him in that running against a presidential election that at this point looks very close was a really bad idea. Yes, prior to September Michael Dukakis had a real chance of beating Bush and was even leading in Gallup’s poll by around 17 points at the time this issue was written. Anyway, only one match is announced so far (Magnificent Mimi vs. Medusa), while they claim wrestlers from five promotions will work the card. This show (which will eventually become Superclash III) is going to be a complete disaster.
  
• Coming to WWF is D.J. Peterson, and Curt Hennig is negotiating with WWF again. Having burned WWF twice, Hennig’s not exactly in the best standing.
  
• Stampede is pushing Steve Blackman hard, putting him in the main event against Makhan Singh. He’s still pretty green and not ready for that level of push.
  
• During a brawl a few weeks back at a show in Redding, California, between Ultimate Warrior and Hercules Hernandez, Herc fell onto a table and cut his arm up bad. He wound up needing 76 stitches to close up the wound, and he and Warrior got into trouble for throwing tv monitors around during the scuffle.
  
• Dick Slater has quit Southern Championship Wrestling to go work in Puerto Rico. Given the fact that Bruiser Brody was just murdered there by the booker of the WWC, this understandably has some wrestlers upset. Brody had a lot of friends (and a lot of enemies as well) in the business, and there’s effectively an informal U.S. boycott of the WWC by American wrestlers.
  
• I just want to leave this quote here so you can be as confused as I am: “Joe Malenko won a one-match tournament for the Global jr. heavyweight title.” That’s a match. Is every match that’s not part of a tournament a one-match tournament? What is a one-match tournament?
  
• In case you’re wondering, Dean Malenko has left the wrestling business to work in the airline industry behind the counter.
  
• WATL in Atlanta is going to drop its Saturday night wrestling block of shows. Apparently, they aren’t happy with having the image of being “the wrestling station” and are dropping wrestling to try and change that image.
  
• The general consensus on the NWA’s Bash tour is that if the card has a WarGames match, it’s the best thing you’ll ever see, Fanatics vs. Midnight is great, and everything else sucks.
  
• No major recurring themes in the letters this week, just some observations and such. One letter thinks Owen’s style will help him stand out and become successful in WWF. Another questions the concept of “smart” fans because it presupposes that there are adults who actually aren’t smart to what wrestling is. Another questions the ability of an unemployed construction worker to be a “smart” fan and know insider terms about wrestling in the David Sammartino case covered covered in the March 21 rewind. One letter suggests that Dave could be clearer when giving territory reports with match ratings on where those ratings are coming from so they don’t get confused with being Dave’s opinion (I agree with this reader). Dave answers a letter asking who all has played the roles of Kim Chee and Friday with Kamala over the years and notes that in the 70s Jimmy Carter’s mother used to write letters to Pat Patterson. Nothing of significant interest this week, but still figured it was worth giving a brief.
  

NEXT WEEK: Development in the Brody muder case, Bash buyrates a crock, Crockett in financial trouble, can TBS save Crockett?, and more

Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.)
So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX.
“Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked.
“This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry.
“No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.”
“Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains.
“Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?”
“Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.”
I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though.
“Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.”
“Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.”
“Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.”
“Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.”
“You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.”
We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl.
“Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.”
After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business.
“So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?”
“No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment.
I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code.
“Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued.
“Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?”
“You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated.
“And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired.
“Yes?” I cautiously venture.
“Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured.
“That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.”
Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?”
“Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks.
“And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed.
“Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “
I agreed.
“OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...”
“Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.”
“Ahem. Those three ultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.”
“Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.”
“Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.”
“I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked.
“But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked.
“Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head.
“I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.”
So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked.
“Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack.
“Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied.
“Fuckbuckets.” I groused.
“There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled.
“I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed.
After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge.
“So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.”
“Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction.
“Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.”
After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130.
Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite.
Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded.
Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull.
Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era…
I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza.
She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing.
I can hardly wait.
I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness.
After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks.
I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern.
Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse?
There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak.
“Blue,” I said.
“Brue?” was the reply.
“Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued.
Look of total bewilderment.
I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant.
“珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?]
“Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be.
They toddle off to find the chef.
“How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks.
“Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed.
All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile.
“Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words…
“お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください”
[O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.]
“Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.”
“OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen.
Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill.
“Crack tubes!”
Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it.
Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace.
Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig.
Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends.
We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’.
“I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor.
I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down.
“Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.”
“Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically.
“I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could.
She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth.
I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest.
“Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.”
“Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley.
She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor.
“Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles.
Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun.
“Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.”
“You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass.
“Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky…
“Beam Suntory, right?”
“You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation.
“And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked.
Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip.
“Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently.
We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company.
I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters.
She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health.
We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed.
The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show.
Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat.
Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower.
“This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered.
“Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports.
“That’s good”, I note.
“But…”
“There’s always the but…” I groan.
“…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.”
There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.”
Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit.
“Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear.
The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain.
I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service.
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…”
“Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.”
So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself.
“Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?”
He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates.
“Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles
“No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink.
“But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again.
“So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked.
“Yeah?”, he stammered back.
I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails.
“OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.”
I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink.
“Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed.
“Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked.
“But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued.
“I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled.
That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while.
“Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked.
“But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered.
Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied,
“All the way to the crash site.”
He went white.
“...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.”
He went limp.
Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload.
Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii.
We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was.
They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal.
I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did.
“Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked.
“Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied.
“Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.”
“Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.”
“Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.”
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.”
“I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway.
At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport.
While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!”
“Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.”
“I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped.
“Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied.
He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted.
“Yeah? Like what?” he asks.
“Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.”
“Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.”
Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.”
He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge.
I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane.
He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts.
“No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins.
“Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”.
“And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies.
“Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.”
He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH.
I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge.
The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium.
I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different.
It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella.
“Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular.
One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically.
I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar.
I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically.
Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes.
“Excuse me!” I hear.
Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit.
“What?”
“That cigar…”
“Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward.
“Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes.
Instantly my demeanor switches 180^0.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks.
“Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances.
“Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?”
“Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said.
“Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens.
“Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle.
She chuckles back.
“And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake.
“Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask.
“On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies.
“But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask.
“She was from Truk, an island…”
“In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked.
“Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said.
“That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked.
“Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle.
Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me.
“Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?”
My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open.
“Hella?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask…”
“Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask.
“Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies.
“I thought so. Many thanks.”
I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet.
“Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed.
“Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud.
“No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked.
“Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed.
“But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand.
“What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand.
“Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said.
“Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party.
“Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella.
Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well.
“Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted.
Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone.
“Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge.
“Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over.
“You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo.
He cuts and fires up his heater.
“What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks.
“Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply.
“No. I mean right now.” He clarifies.
“Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply.
“Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks.
“My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply.
Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end.
Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies.
Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer.
We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off.
Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it.
I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”.
“Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion.
“One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another.
“No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo.
“But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain.
I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.”
She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion.
Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see.
“So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask.
“Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues.
“You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft.
I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense.
“Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection.
“Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins.
“So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo.
“Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing.
I pound on Toivo’s back.
“Heimlich time?” I ask.
Toivo signals ‘no’.
“Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks.
“Just my usual”, I innocently replied.
“Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much.
“Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily.
“Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out.
“The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool.
“It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean.
“Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled.
“You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink.
“No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest.
Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore.
“You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings.
“Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly.
I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable.
Great fieldcraft, indeed.
I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium.
He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing.
Then I delivered the strategic missile strike.
“Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…”
He swivels to look at me.
“And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly.
Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move.
I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane.
Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire.
Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business.
I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious.
“Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked.
“Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile.
“Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said.
“Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway.
I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH.
Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up.
Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane.
We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun.
Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal.
We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip.
She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink.
Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks.
Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs.
“Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!”
“No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear.
“Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!”
“’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly.
Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole.
“Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly.
“What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it.
He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose.
“Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.”
To be continued…⇝

Previous | First
-----
A/N: Please consider supporting my writing efforts on Patreon. You can follow this story and be alerted when new chapters release via fanfiction.net.
-----
“Another air group attacking from the west!” came the call over the radio from the crow’s nest.
“Copy! Shift AA batteries one and two to counter, I’m getting more fighters in the air!” Hornet promised, closing her eyes and making sure she remembered each component of a Hellcat’s engine as her ship and crew threw flak and machine gun fire skyward.
“Maru, we can’t launch in these conditions!”
“You can’t, but I can; so give me some cover will you?!” she demanded of her deck crews.
“Ma’am, guns five, seven and twelve are almost out of ammunition!”
“Understood, quartermaster. I’ve already got more produced in the depots; get it where it needs to go. And don’t call me ma’am again, I’m not old!” she insisted with a laugh.
“Incoming bombers twelve high!” The radios crackled again as more than fifteen hundred men and one kansen got their first real test as a fighting unit.
“I have them, keep the fire up! Gunners, I have a visual on Ark Royal through her smokescreen. Load up. I’m adjusting the firing solution now!”
“We can do that ourselves, Hornet. Just give us the coordinates and focus on your Hellcats!”
“Aww, you guys are so sweet. Here you go! Let’s show Lexington and Saratoga that they aren’t the only carriers who can use 203mm batteries! I made them just for you!”
“Hard copy, boss. We’ve got her dialed in. Oh shit, strafing run! Incoming sharks!”
“Hold position and open fire! I have you!” Hornet promised, taking a knee and placing a fist against the floor of her bridge. A massive shield encompassed her hull that was more than up to the task of deflecting machine gun fire from Ark Royal’s P-40s. A salvo of heavy rounds thundered from her deck batteries, newly arranged in the same manner as those of the Lexington class carriers.
“Maru, direct hit! Now’s the time!” one of her gunnery sergeants reported, noting the strikes against Ark’s shield that threw up smoke and debris that would temporarily distract attention from their bombers.
“Hold tight boys! I’m going to send it!” Hornet shouted happily as two squads of B-25s initiated a bombing run from on high, screened by lower flying Hellcats. Her deck batteries continued to fire as well, and several seconds later the call of surrender came over the radio. After five grueling days and nights learning how to operate their new ship, they’d defeated Ark Royal in single ship combat. Commander Thorson, Fleet Admiral Nimitz, Enterprise, and the other most important actors in the Union Pacific fleet were waiting for her back on the docks.
“Took you long enough,” Enterprise said quietly as the sisters embraced briefly. The ribbing was all in good fun.
“Yeah I know, had to whip a lot of those lads into shape but we did it,” Hornet replied proudly. Enterprise had, perhaps unsurprisingly, dismantled Ark Royal with absolute precision the second day after she’d been granted her rigging. She had done so with help from a handful of her most experienced pilots and mechanics, but was otherwise unassisted. Hornet had insisted on bringing at least half of her entire crew along for the ride, but eventually arrived at the same point. “So what happens now, Commander?”
“Captain Stevens’ convoy just radioed; they’re about an hour away. We resupply and then we get ready to leave. Akashi finished the retrofit of your kitchens?”
“Yes sir! And I made sure they know not to go tinkering with anything if they don’t want to get bonked by one of my planes. Thanks again for accommodating us.”
“Consider it a little experiment,” Thorson replied with a smile. “Fleet Admiral?”
Nimitz nodded curtly and began informing them all of the next steps that would be taken by each fleet and the Union as a whole in the Pacific. “The vast majority of Enterprise’s crew will be transferred to the old Hornet which will continue to be commanded by Captain Mitscher. Hornet, we are still short crew. How many can you spare?”
“I can have a list ready in a couple of hours, sir. I hate to lose any of them but I understand,” she replied, a hit of sadness in her voice.
“Very good. Enterprise, the few individuals you wish to accompany you will also be assigned to the new Hornet. I am in agreement with Commander Thorson that a true comparison between you and your sister, crewed and uncrewed, is needed.”
“Yes sir. I’m confident in my ability to operate my vessel alone. My pilots and mechanics have been of great help in getting me to the point where I can launch aircraft on my own, but I suppose I don’t need them if push comes to shove,” the silver-haired carrier explained.
“I understand. This should prove a decent compromise. Commander Thorson, I understand that your fleet composition is unorthodox and I wish I had more escorts to spare, but I do not. Northampton is the best we can do.”
“She already approached me about acquiring rigging and learning to fight like Houston, sir. We would be happy to have her,” Thorson replied thankfully.
“And we will be happy to have more experienced hands for other ships,” Nimitz replied. “I don’t think we need to stand on ceremony any longer. Commander, your orders are simple. Track Akagi and Kaga down and neutralize them. If the other carriers interfere, take them out as well. The quicker we finish them, the quicker we can transfer much needed firepower to the Atlantic. The news out of London seems to worsen by the day.”
“I understand, sir. We’ll get it done,” Thorson promised, fashioning a sharp salute that Hornet and Enterprise quickly copied. They were his ships, after all.
“Very good. And one last thing, Commander.”
“Sir?”
Nimitz looked around the bustling base with a slight smile, thinking that victory was perhaps on the horizon. “Following this evening’s meal please instruct your staff to arrange the space for a formal event. Assuming the manifest was not lost in transit, the women of your fleet have earned themselves a bit of hardware.”
-----
“Hammu-chan, Hammu-chan, over here!” Shigure called, summoning the Union destroyer to the Sakura table that night at dinner. She’d received her own ship and rigging in the week following Midway thanks to ample supplies of wisdom cubes and a dire need for escort ships in Thorson’s unbalanced fleet, but remained withdrawn and dour following the loss of Sims and then Yorktown. A seat for her was quickly cleared between Yamashiro and Yukikaze, the former enveloping her in a fluffy, warm hug when she sat down.
“S-stop with this! I don’t need you treating me like a child!” she protested. Yamashiro only giggled, her tail snaking happily behind her as she rubbed Hammann’s ears and pushed the little destroyer deeper into her cleavage.
“Shhh, it’s ok little cat. Yama-mama will take care of you as long as you need.”
Thorson couldn’t recall ever seeing a kansen blush redder or pout harder than Hammann, but she ate with the Sakura at every meal and never lashed out at them beyond her words, even after she acquired her rigging. He allowed it to play out without intervening, as the Union kansen seemed willing to as well. He could not replace a lost sister or mentor.
That evening was a mixture of fond reunions and farewells. Brooklyn had gotten to spend some time with Captain Stevens that afternoon, and Thorson had decided to leave her in charge of the base in his absence during the operation. Yuugure, Hatsuharu, and Michishio would be staying behind to man the kitchens, along with Naka, Cassin, and Ooshio who would be in charge of maintaining the facilities of the base and caring for the kiddies, along with Shiranui. Almost everyone else had been assigned to the attacking fleet, meaning that along with many sailors saying their goodbyes that night, Downes was also in that position. The Union destroyer was making the most of it, dining with her friends around her and Ooshio in her lap. California, Cleveland, Portland, and the other bubbly Union kansen found the arrangement utterly adorable, and the black-furred neko shrine maiden found herself veritably showered with attention and petting throughout the night. Only Downes was allowed to leave the occasional kiss on her cheek, however.
As the meal concluded, Akashi and her bulins promptly arranged for Admiral Nimitz’s request, occasionally removing a sailor from his seat bodily as they cleared tables and redid the hall for a large briefing. Other than the Sakura, all rose and saluted the Fleet Admiral and the rest of Union brass as they filed in, accompanied by several aides. Nimitz got down to brass tacks immediately. “As many of you are already aware, a follow-on operation to the defensive action at Midway will be commencing imminently, with Commander Thorson’s fleet as the spearhead. The Enterprise, Hornet designation CV-12, and the Northampton are officially transferred to his command. All crew assigned to the Enterprise and Northampton are to remain after this meeting to receive your new assignments. Those hulls are to be crewed solo going forward. The crew of the Hornet will also remain, as a minority of you will be needed elsewhere. And since I’m sure you’re all wondering why the Fleet Admiral is dealing with such mundane affairs, we’ll get to the meat and potatoes of this evening. Though I must say I’ve rarely had meat or potatoes as well prepared as I have recently. I’ll miss your cooking,” Nimitz stated, tipping his cap at Shiratsuyu and the other kitchen staff who were caught positively flat footed as dozens of sailors whistled and hooted their own approval. The Fleet Admiral held up his hands for quiet and continued.
“Upon consultation, I’ve been informed that there are no military honors that can be given for exemplary conduct in the kitchen, so maybe that’s something we can address when we find ourselves at peace again,” he chuckled quietly before adopting the tone for which he was known throughout the Union navy. “But we are at war, and were it not for the actions of a handful of individuals we would not be enjoying this relative luxury in the middle of the Pacific today. The shipgirl initiative, which I am designating the kansen initiative effective immediately, has been considered something between a curiosity and side project for more than a decade. We are here to correct that perception.”
Hushed conversation rippled through the many hundreds of sailors in attendance as Thorson’s kansen glanced at one another, suspicion and curiosity mixed together in their expressions. One of the Fleet Admiral’s aides stepped forward bearing a nondescript case which, when opened, revealed a couple dozen of identical yellow citation ribbons with a thin blue bar at the top and a red bar at the bottom. Thorson wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that particular award before, but knew that Brooklyn likely had something to do with it. He stood and saluted as Nimitz addressed him personally. “Yes sir.”
“Commander Thorson, after reviewing your after action reports and similar testimonies from Task Forces 16 and 17, I put in a call to Washington. I doubt many people have managed to surprise a man like the Commander in Chief, but I’d wager the tale I spun for him managed. You and your fleet have been awarded a Presidential Unit Citation, and I’ll be damned if I send you off to strike at the enemy’s heart without the distinction you’ve richly earned.”
“Thank you, sir,” Thorson said stiffly, whipped into shape by the sudden gravity of the moment. Setting an example for his kansen, most of whom had no idea what to do in such a situation, the Commander approached Nimitz to receive the ribbon. When he returned, he tapped Penny on the shoulder and nodded towards the Admiral. “You earned it. Go take what’s yours.”
The battleship held his gaze for a few seconds as she furiously debated with herself. No number of tokens would change the past, but she had served and bled for Thorson, for her sister, and for herself. That alone seemed enough to swallow her pride and be recognized. With confident steps she walked up to Nimitz and saluted, remaining silently at attention as the decoration was pinned to her uniform. Yuudachi, by contrast, refused to be silent and cheered loudly for her Penny-san, eliciting the faintest of confident smiles from the kansen as she turned to face the room and walk back to her seat. That expression turned to pride as her younger sister went next, and approval as Nimitz motioned politely for Arizona to remain standing after receiving her unit citation. Thorson and the rest of his fleet watched closely as a second aide to the Fleet Admiral presented a second case, this one much smaller, which when opened revealed three purple heart medals. The Admiral took one up and pinned it respectfully to Arizona’s uniform himself before extending his hand to her, speaking over Yukikaze’s rapid, questioning ‘nanodas’. “You look right as rain now, but I read the reports of your injury at Pearl Harbor. Let’s hope the next medal is a different color, shall we?”
“Thank you, sir,” Arizona whispered before hustling back to rejoin her sister as quickly as she could without running, flush with both happiness and embarrassment. Thorson met her eyes and nodded approvingly as the rest of his fleet was recognized. Cassin was also awarded a purple heart given the damage she’d suffered at Midway. Tennessee earned a Navy Cross for ‘gallantry in combat’ in addition to her unit citation. The tanned, almost perpetually grumpy battleship scoffed at the notion, but allowed the gleaming cross to be placed on her uniform where Thorson was absolutely sure it would remain for many years. Arizona was called back to receive a second Navy Cross, which Thorson considered richly deserved given that her abilities saw them through to the end of the Midway engagement. The award caused a bit of a skirmish between Yuudachi and Yukikaze over whose adopted onee-san was better, but it was quickly squashed by Choukai, who reminded them of the gravity of the situation with the hilt of her blade.
As the ceremony continued, Thorson clapped politely for each of his ships, especially when Brooklyn was recognized with a new citation dubbed the Navy and Marine Corps Medal, which Nimitz explained was meant to recognize her exemplary contributions to the kansen initiative both on and off the battlefield. South Dakota also received additional merits, though the Union staff in question didn’t have any idea where to pin her Navy Distinguished Service Medal without committing a misdemeanor. There wasn’t much material to work with. In the end, she accepted it in her hands, bowed silently, and then affixed the medal to one of her thick braids of hair. The humor of that situation was followed by true celebration as Ark Royal, despite not being an official member of Thorson’s fleet or even the Union navy, was awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross, a motion that had several of his kansen whistling and clapping. Unlike South Dakota, Ark Royal’s uniform was practically made to display honors and awards, and the little ones all gathered around to examine her new hardware the moment she sat down. The ceremony concluded with the latest addition to Thorson’s fleet, Hornet, being awarded the final Purple Heart that Nimitz had requested. And while she did not receive a unit citation, she was recognized for something more.
“I call upon Captain Marc Mitscher to present this final honor in the absence of Commander in Chief of the Union armed forces, Franklin Delano Roosevelt,” Nimitz said, projecting so that even those in the far back could hear him over the ceiling fans. The aging but still spry veteran stepped forward, doing his best to keep from breaking out into a broad smile as the Fleet Admiral continued. Even Thorson’s fleet remained utterly silent as the gravity of Nimitz’s introduction settled over them while Hornet herself stood there with a nervous look on her face and silently wishing she could borrow her sister’s uniform. “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at great risk to her life far above and beyond the call of duty, for sacrificing her own life to save those of her ship and her crew, and for having the gall to return from the dead in spite of God himself; in the name of the United States Congress I officially bestow upon Hornet the Congressional Medal of Honor.”
Decorum, though called for given the situation, was immediately dispensed with as Hornet’s crew, who formed the vast majority of the humans in attendance and who’d just been told they were about to participate in the largest Union offensive of the war up to that point, went absolutely bananas. Their kansen ate it up of course, accepting the honor graciously from her captain before pinning it to her left breast on the hem of her bikini top. Whistles, cat calls, and hoots galore greeted her and she blew them all a kiss with a wink before whipping out her rigging and threatening them with miniaturized aircraft if they didn’t let Nimitz finish. Message received, they returned to their seats and the Fleet Admiral spoke again. “Thank you, Hornet. Commander Thorson, the floor is yours if you have any announcements for your fleet?”
“Nothing major, sir. Just a reminder for anyone involved in the ongoing security around the Sakura prisoners; ensure that everyone has a chance to visit the Sakura dormitory this evening. You all deserve it. We will hold our strategy briefing there as well. Any kansen on sortie should consider their attendance mandatory. I’ll see you all then. For now, enjoy your hardware. It was well earned.”
“What do you think?” Downes demanded of Indianapolis. “That sounded to me like the Commander just said party in the onsen.”
“Kansen only,” Tennessee agreed. “Let’s go, short stuff. Bring your girlfriend.”
“Hey, keep your mitts off her,” Downes shot back playfully as Tennessee stood and adjusted her cap, taking a moment to appreciate the Navy Cross that hung from her uniform. Ares was enjoying it as well, chirping happily from her shoulder. Tennessee resolved to earn more kill tattoos and another medal by the time the Pacific campaign was ended.
“No need to get your panties in a bunch, Downes. Just saying I approve is all.”
-----
“Coolant?” Akashi offered, having found herself a bright red kimono with fluffy white trim to use while serving drinks at the onsen. Thorson’s fleet was all gathered on the wooden patio that overlooked the main pool where Yukikaze’s sisters were splashing about under Shiranui’s watchful eye. A few of the girls were still in their uniforms, having only arrived for the meeting, but many wore swimwear or towels alone, lounging or sitting comfortably as Thorson entered the fenced off area himself. West Virginia laughed and Maryland put her fingers between her lips to whistle at him, as he was wearing only a towel around his waist and his Commander’s cap. That laughter quickly spread through the entire fleet, including Hornet and Choukai, who still didn’t have a bead on the base’s various antics. Enterprise frowned at the display but held her tongue. Her new fleet might as well have been foreign territory. He stood before them importantly before bending over himself and chortling, unable to keep a straight face.
“Everyone good?” he asked casually, earning nods and assents from the assembled kansen. Akashi had already provided a map of the Pacific for him on the back wall of the pavilion, so the Commander began immediately. “Choukai, I know you don’t know many of us well yet, but I’d encourage you to do so over the coming days. The rest of you should know that Choukai has given us the exact location of the enemy’s stronghold, the Sanctuary, where the main Sakura fleets have almost certainly retreated to. This intel confirms older reports from Fusou and Shiranui, which seems to indicate that despite the involvement of the Sirens the base is still that, a fixed position.” Thorson paused to allow the implications to sink in. His veterans were looking at one another knowingly, recalling the triumphant early days of their Java campaign. “Fixed positions can be bombarded. With the Colorado sisters, Hornet, and Enterprise recently added to our ranks, our ability to do so is unprecedented. So as I said, please get to know Choukai. There’s a good chance she’ll be escorting at least one of you into position when the times comes. I’d also like to unofficially welcome Northampton to the fleet. Northampton, it’s a pleasure to have you. I assume there will be no issues if I assign you and your sister to Hornet’s battlegroup?”
“No sir!” the dark-skinned cruiser replied happily, learning she’d be at her sister’s side going forward while Hornet seemed both taken aback and excited.
“I get a battle group?” she wondered.
“Indeed. The fleet will be rearranged to an extent for this operation. For starters, we have three carriers this time around instead of just the one. Additionally, one of those carriers will need to be defended with consideration given to her human crew. Indianapolis, I want you with Hornet as well.”
“Sure thing,” the pint sized cruiser agreed.
“And before you get upset with me, Portland, the battlegroups won’t be operating separately, at least not outside of visual range if I can help it. I want you and Cleveland with Enterprise. That leaves Choukai and Minneapolis. Both of you will be with Ark Royal. Minnie, you have my full confidence. Choukai, you will be escorting a Royal carrier, not a Union one,” Thorson emphasized. The Sakura placed her coolant on the nearest kotatsu and bowed her head low to the floor.
“I understand. She will have my sword. All I ask is for mercy for my sisters,” the cruiser replied. Thorson crossed his hands over his chest, frowning as he did so.
“I was hoping to keep this discussion light but yes, Choukai, the same mercy shown to you will be shown to any who surrender or are captured after being eliminated as a threat. That’s all I can promise.”
“I understand. I apologize for clouding what is clearly meant to be a more upbeat occasion,” she replied. Thorson wanted to explain to her that not only was her disposition understandable, but that seeing her body in naught but a white towel was plenty upbeat. He held his tongue both on account of his other ships and the fact that he was getting far too comfortable in his own ‘domain’. Instead he tilted his head her way to acknowledge her before moving on.
“Pennsylvania, Arizona, Tennessee, and California will make up the rest of Hornet’s group along with Downes, Yukikaze, Yuudachi, and Hammann. I assume there are no complaints there?” Thorson said, earning smirks and smiles from the battleships and happy cheers from the destroyer duo who were pleased to be assigned side by side again, though Shigure looked a tad put out.
“I’d say your assumption is correct, sir. The small ones seem quite chipper. Looking forward to it,” Hornet said hopefully. Her capital escorts were tough and seasoned, but they seemed willing to give her a chance.
“Who are you calling small?” Yuudachi demanded, puffing out her chest momentarily before Pennsylvania reached over and began rubbing her quite forcefully between the ears.
“She was talking about your height, not your chest you one track dog.”
“But Penny-san!” Yuudachi protested meekly as Shigure and Yukikaze enjoyed a laugh at their friend’s expense.
“No buts. The Commander isn’t finished. Sorry about my dog, Andrew.”
Thorson threw his head back and laughed, hardly one to stand on ceremony given the setting and his own state of dress. “Alright I get it. Let’s wrap up then so everyone can enjoy their final night here before we sortie. Ark, you’re with the Colorado sisters. That means Laffey, Javelin, and Zed are coming along too. That leaves Fusou, Yamashiro, and South Dakota for Enterprise. Shigure will be with you as well, along with Asashio, Arashio, and Kasumi. I look forward to seeing what you three sisters can do when working closely together.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence Shikikan,” Asashio replied for her sisters. “We will work hard to end this conflict with minimal bloodshed so we can return to our shrine.”
“Yes, I think that’s a worthy goal for all of us, and something to think on in the baths. Anyone have questions?” Thorson asked, opening the floor. When no one spoke up he nodded and gestured to the steaming pools of water behind them. “Then you’re all dismissed. We depart at sunrise. Be ready.”
At his word the crowd dispersed quickly, with many of his kansen disrobing and heading for the baths. Some like Yamashiro did it obviously for his enjoyment, whereas others like Colorado did so because they were proud of their bodies and didn’t particularly care what Thorson thought of them. Out back, on the far side of the pools beyond the dividing waterfall was where those who wished for a bit more privacy retreated, including Ooshio and Downes. The Union destroyer carried her girlfriend most of the way, using the water to aid her before submerging herself up to her shoulders and settling the Sakura maiden in her lap. “Sorry if I’ve been too possessive. It feels like we only just got back and now I have to leave you again.”
Instead of saying anything, Ooshio undid her towel and laid it over the lip of the stone wall that separated them from the forests below. They were not truly alone, but nudity wasn’t uncommon in the onsen, not to mention that other than flushes of the cheek which could be attributed to the warm water, neither of them had to worry about outward displays of arousal as Downes sunk her fingers gently into the pliant flesh of Ooshio’s hips and behind. “Easy luv, but I’m happy ye’ve been the way ye have. I’m too shy, but I missed ye somethin’ fierce when you were gone. All yer friends are so strong too.”
“It’s ok Ooshio, if Belle likes you then it’s safe to say they all do or will,” Downes assured her before leaving a wet kiss on her collarbone and shrugging off her own towel. “Here, this seems unfair.”
“Oh dear,” Ooshio whispered as Downes’ milky skin and scars were exposed to her, lit faintly by the moon. “Now I really don’t want ye to be goin’.”
“I know, but I have to. You know that,” Downes explained affectionately. Ooshio rested against her more fully, squishing her ample chest against Downes’ flatter one as they kissed.
“And that’s why I’m afraid,” Ooshio whispered.
“We beat them at Midway and we’ll beat them again,” Downes insisted as Ooshio ran an exploratory finger over her piercings. Given their location, they could only have been done for her benefit, or perhaps the Commander’s himself. Downes looked up at her hesitantly. “You like them?”
“Are all the Union gals this naughty?” Ooshio squeaked, shifting Downes’ demeanor to predatory in an instant.
“Yours is.”
“Aah Downes not- not now. I wanna say goodbye proper,” she insisted. Downes relented from kissing along the tops of her breasts and looked her in the eye.
“I’m coming back,” she insisted.
Ooshio closed her eyes and rested her forehead against her woman’s. “I’ll pray every day for ye and the rest, but it’s dangerous Downes, real dangerous.”
“So am I.”
“Downes!”
“Sweetie, if you know something we don’t you need to tell Commander Thorson,” the Union destroyer insisted. Ooshio shook her head.
“Fusou-san, Choukai-san, and Yamashiro-san will all know far more than a gal like me. I’m sure he knows what yer sailin’ towards. That doesn’t mean I like it.”
Downes listened to the pleasant droning of the waterfalls and the distant conversation of the majority of the fleet back in the main pools. “We’ve got more reason to come back than any navy I can think of, me most of all. That’ll have to be good enough. All your sisters are here, right?”
“Yeah, we’re all here,” Ooshio confirmed.
“Good, then I won’t hold anything back out there.”
“Ye could be fightin’ Sirens!” the plush shrine maiden gasped, tears forming in her eyes. Downes reached up and kissed them away, laughing as Ooshio’s eyelashes fluttered against her lips.
“Then I’ll come home with a Siren trophy for you. I’m just sorry you’ll be sitting here worried the whole time. But I’m glad you won’t be there,” Downes insisted, resting a hand on her upper thigh. Ooshio placed hers atop it and laced their fingers together. “We’ll be sailing a long time, and for the first couple days we’ll be in Union seas. I can afford a late night tonight, so let’s make the most of it.” Downes reached up with her other hand and undid Ooshio’s braids, nodding approvingly as the long, silken, black hair fanned out past her shoulders like a veil.
“Sometimes I wish the cubes could make us inta men,” Ooshio remarked wistfully. “Yer so sweet an’ so strong an’ so beautiful.”
“Geez, Ooshio. You’re going to go and make me blush for real!” Downes chuckled quietly. Ooshio took her head in her hands.
“I mean it, Downes. I wish… I wish we could have what some o’ the others have with Shikikan. I sometimes wish we could be havin’ babies, like the little things Ark is always carin’ for. They’re so sweet, ain’t they?”
“I… yeah, they are,” Downes replied quietly, struck dumb at the suggestion but recovering quickly as she remembered it was just that, a dream. For two lovers about to be separated by war again, it wasn’t such a bad dream either. “I guess that would be kinda nice, knowing even if the worst happens I’d leave you something of mine, ours? Damn, here I am thinking I’m the one talking smooth and you’re the one getting me all hot and bothered.”
“I’m plenty hot an’ plenty bothered, Downes.”
Several yards away, Houston tapped Fredrick and Northampton on the shoulder, pointed, and led them back around towards the rest of the fleet. “They were here first. I think they deserve a bit of privacy. So cute!”
“That’s… certainly one way of putting it,” Northampton replied, casting one last glance behind her and catching an eyeful of Ooshio’s ample backside. “I can give you two some space if-”
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Northampton,” Fredrick insisted quickly. Houston nodded in agreement, her green eyes sparkling.
“Indeed! When we’re ready to spend some time together we’ll just head back to my room!”
“Houston!”
“What? Did you think I called him my boyfriend just for show?”
-----
“Commander, if you wanted to have sex with me we didn’t have to wait. I could have just come to your room!” Arizona whispered as he sat next to her in the finally empty onsen. When he stared back at her like a virgin, she blushed furiously and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, that was meant to be a joke! I guess I’m not really that kind of woman, am I?”
“No, and I’m truly thankful for that. Can you imagine if Yukikaze or Yuudachi decided they wanted to add sex to their list of troublemaking activities?” He asked, taking her hand as they smiled at one another, comfortable despite a lack of clothing or any other coverings over their bodies.
“Commander, you know I don’t demand much of anything but I’m going to have to put my foot down just this once. Don’t have sex with my cat!” Arizona insisted. Thorson’s smile grew and he massaged his forehead and temple with his free hand.
“Tell you what, I’ll turn Yukikaze down if she ever gets that notion into her head if you agree to be the flagship for this operation,” he proposed. The sweeter, shyer of the Pennsylvania class sisters lowered her head and looked bashfully at him.
“You… you really want me to-”
“I really want you,” Thorson corrected with a bit of a smirk, far too charmed by her innocence and far too aware that he might not come home to forgo as much lovemaking as he could squeeze in without compromising his fleet’s operations. Unbidden, Arizona reached across him and pulled her body over his, resting against his chest, bracing herself against his shoulders, and lowering her hips until they were intertwined. Thorson reached up and caressed her cheek, doing his best not to take her like an animal. “You feel incredible, but I did actually have my reasons!” he murmured.
“I’ll hear them now,” she whispered back, laying her head against his shoulder so that he could speak directly against the shell of her ear. His hands guided her hips in a slow roll as he did his best to keep his thoughts ordered. “So other than my body?” she breathed.
“And you,” he corrected, nipping at her ear. “You’re in Hornet’s escort group and I want to be close to her. A human crew is a novelty and we’re going up against the enemy on home turf. At a minimum I would be failing in my direct orders if I didn’t oversee and report on that experiment.”
“Ah, that’s the spot,” Arizona gasped lightly, pressing into his shoulders with her fingertips. “Sorry, keep going?”
“Mmm, love you. Second, Penny, Fusou, and Yamashiro have all been flagship. I trust the four of you implicitly, and I don’t think it would be right to leave you out, especially on this kind of mission” Thorson said. He found her next question unsurprising.
“And Tennessee?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Oh? Complicated or complicated?” she wondered. When Thorson didn’t reply for several seconds she hummed in understanding. “I see, so even she’s got a heart in there somewhere? That’s nice to know, really. Anything else?”
“Yeah… revenge,” he admitted. Arizona stilled for a moment before resuming the gentle rocking of her hips, sending ripples shimmering across the water as her long hair pooled around the small of her back.
“Andrew, it’s alright. You and Penny found me, brought me back. Many others never even got that chance.”
“But I didn’t watch them die, not in my arms!” he hissed, holding her tightly around the waist. “This is different. I watched the life leave your eyes, Ari.”
“I…” she tried, unable to adequately reply. Her voice fled as he leaned back so he could capture her lips with his.
“Underneath the fleet and the Commander’s insignia I’m just a man. You and your sister know that better than most, I’d wager. I want the ones responsible for Pearl Harbor destroyed. And I want you at my side when we do it,” Thorson declared firmly. “So yeah, I have a few reasons.”
“Then I’d be happy to serve you as your flagship, Andrew. For now though, can we leave the war aside?” she pleaded, earning his hands on her hips and derriere in agreement. For a few hours they were able to do just that.
-----
Previous | First

As strange as this might have sound only a few weeks ago, the only pick set in stone is Trevor Lawrence going number-one overall to Jacksonville. After that, it's a complete toss-up. Here is how I see it, as of right now...

• New York Jets

They're just as likely to try to build around Sam Darnold as they are to take one of the other two top-QBs in Zach Wilson or Justin Fields. This is a team that has a lot of holes and trading this pick could go towards trying to fill a number of them.

• Atlanta Falcons

They are interesting. I've heard a few people say "there isn't ONE player that would turn them from a 4-12 team to a 10 or 11 win team," and I flat-out don't believe that. A truly elite edge rusher, a shutdown-playmaking corner, or a dynamic QB that could threaten defenses with their arm and their legs could finally make the most of a team that is much more talented than most folks probably realize. Oh, and Matt Ryan's contract isn't unmovable, by any means.

• Philadelphia Eagles

I have no idea what they will do. They made things even more complicated with their move to bench Jalen Hurts in their final game of the season, too. If I were to wager a guess, I'd say that they're likely to run it back with both Carson Wentz and Jalen Hurts. But with that said, I don't think it's crazy to think that if the right quarterback fell to them at #6, they would have to strongly consider it.

• Detroit Lions

We've seen the rumors about Matthew Stafford "not wanting to stick around for (another) rebuild," and I'd have to think that there is some truth to that. Stafford has been Detroit's starting quarterback for 12 seasons (!!!) and in that time, they haven't surrounded him with enough talent to win a single playoff game -- going 0 - 3 in his only three playoff appearances. Stafford deserves better and I would think Detroit could still get a pretty decent haul for the former number-one overall pick.

• Carolina Panthers

Carolina looked well on its way to overachieving in Matt Rhule's first season as head coach. Unfortunately, a combination of a tough schedule, depth issues, and general growing pains for a young team eventually did them in. Teddy Bridgewater had an efficient, albeit almost "too standard" season and some folks are saying as long as he's the one under center, the Panthers have a ceiling. Does Matt Rhule believe that? If so, is this the year he goes for a rookie signal caller? I honestly don't know. If they do, it would make a great deal of sense.

• Denver Broncos

As the season was coming to close, word got out that at-the-time Broncos general manager John Elway was committed to giving Drew Lock another go as his starter for the 2021-22 season. Well, Elway was quietly demoted/moved to a different front office position and it looks as though whoever Denver brings in to replace Elway as GM won't have to do an awful lot to convince head coach Vic Fangio that Lock isn't the guy, as Fangio refused to admit anything aside from Lock "having the possibility" to be the Broncos starter next season. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, especially at this time of the year. I've heard some claim that Denver may prefer a veteran in free agency but with a well-stocked young offense, I see no reason why they would pass up trying their hand at a long-term option.

• New York Giants

It feels inevitable that the Giants will have to move on from Daniel Jones eventually, I just don't know if this offseason will be that year. Joe Judge strikes me as a smart dude and I think he's well aware that another subpar season and he, himself, could be out of a job. So, does he want to hitch his wagon to Daniel Jones, putting all of his proverbial "eggs" in that basket? If they do decide to bring in competition (which also seems inevitable), it seems likely to come in the form of a veteran free agent acquisition or even perhaps a moderately cheap trade.

• San Francisco 49ers

I should probably preface this by saying that I believe that Jimmy Garoppolo is a good quarterback -- and here's the important part -- when he's healthy. Of course, the thing is... he hasn't been healthy in two of his three seasons as the 49ers starting quarterback. When you couple that with the fact that the 49ers owe him very little in guaranteed money and create over $20 million in cap space if they cut the former Patriot loose.

• Houston Texans (and 49ers)

An interesting tidbit that seems to be making the rounds as the hottest rumor around town is that the 49ers could be interested in a trade for disgruntled Texans quarterback DeShaun Watson; some league executives have even speculated that "a swap of Jimmy G. and several high draft picks" in exchange for Watson would make a ton of sense. Considering the fact that the Texans recently hired former Patriots director of pro personnel Nick Caserio, you begin to wonder if there could be some real substance to this rumor.

• Minnesota Vikings

They seem to be stuck with Kirk Cousins for at least one more season. Of course, that doesn't rule them out -- especially considering they have a small boatload of picks in rounds 3 through 5. Specifically, two 3rd round picks, three 4th round choices, and two 5th rounders all in all in the upcoming 2021 NFL Draft. Oh, and I will add that their pick at #14 seems to be in a sort of "no man's land" in terms of players likely to be available at positions of need. Just sayin'.

• New England Patriots

Their need for a quarterback is almost too obvious, and for that very reason I don't trust Bill and the boys to go in the obvious direction. Then again, this is the Patriots; and the only thing that I can say with any amount of certainty is that I have almost no idea what they will actually do. And neither do you.

• Washington Football Team

The need is obvious but I don't think they have the draft capital, nor the position in terms of draft slot, to make a move to get into the top half of the first round to take one of the top guys available. They seem to be firmly in the area where they're "praying for Trey [Lance]" or settling for Mac Jones or Kyle Trask.

• Chicago Bears

In a similar situation as Washington, except their cap situation limits their options severely through means of free agency or trade. They could very well "swing for fences" and go all-in to trade up if one were to fall a bit; but it'd be bold (and possibly very stupid) as they have to fill quite a few needs with not a lot of picks.

• Veteran QBs: Saints, Colts, or Steelers?
  It made sense to lump all three of these teams together as they'd be drafting the heir-apparent to an aging legend in Drew Brees, Philip Rivers, or Ben Roethlisberger.
  

It was a regular Tuesday in Bristol; people got up, went to their jobs and started their days with large cups of coffee and small talk. The exact same start of the day ritual just took place in a telecommunications firm’s help centre facility, situated at the South of the city, where people were now already settling in to their seats and putting on headsets a few minutes before the lines were opened.
The day was slow, people called about trivial things, someone is unhappy with the bill they received, another person wants to update their mobile data plan, someone just wants to scream at someone who can’t tell them to fuck off, because they are paid (poorly) to be nice. But then that‘s just an everyday thing in a call centre world. The day crept by slowly and people were unhappily thinking how most of the week is still not done and there are three more days of this before they can escape into blissful weekend. Everyone was idling and sulking and waiting for the end of their shift when an unlucky soul named Bill got The Call. He answered the beep in his usual drone but fell silent without finishing the full greeting, Heather, who was sitting next to him, heard an unpleasant static shrill from his earphones which usually meant that a customer has decided that a normal tone of voice will simply not do and some extreme measures need to be taken in order for their query to be heard, to which Bill’s usual reaction is an eyeroll. However, this time Bill‘s eyes remained in place, staring at the screen until they slowly started widening together with his mouth that formed an „O“ of a silent scream. And then he just collapsed in his chair, slid to the ground and lay there motionless. Heather got so startled and stunned by all of this that she couldn‘t even move, fortunately for her and unfortunately for him, the whole ordeal was also noticed by their supervisor, Simon. He picked up the still shrilling headset from Bill‘s head to try and solve the situation with the customer while motioning a colleague over to help poor Bill. However, as soon as the headphones clasped around Simon‘s ears, he repeated Bill‘s facial expression quite to the point and collapsed too. The situation attracted more people to their location and they all simply stared at the still humming headset not daring to touch it. Someone finally dropped the call. An ambulance arrived just a few minutes later but Bill and Simon were both dead well before the emergency call was even made.
This was the first known occurrence of these mysterious calls claiming their victims and it only escalated from there. At first the disquiet they spread was contained to small circles and communities which were affected by this phenomenon, but it did not take long until full blown panic was well spread. Since it took quite a bit of time for the authorities to agree on what needs to be done, situation got out of hand fast. One business like gentleman of self-important variety decided to answer a call from who he thought was his new investor on a speakerphone to impress a cute blond barista at the coffee shop, only to end up dropping dead as well as killing the barista and every other customer in the vicinity. A couple of radio hosts taking calls for a survey on what people prefer more – cauliflower or broccoli ended up dead and responsible for killing all of their listeners and a few random passers-by who had the bad luck to be next to those, who were listening to this particular station while driving. Situations like these echoed across the globe while the governments scrambled for a solution.
Of course the first official announcement proclaimed any use of telephone in public locations or in any shows be it radio, TV or internet, illegal. Not that they needed to, people grasped onto the situation pretty quickly, so in-show calls became a thing of the past.
Then, a worldwide decision was made, that no calls from unknown number should be answered, which were also intuitively followed by most of the population by then anyway. The rule was useful and seemed to deescalate the situation for exactly one day, the next morning after it was announced a poor Hungarian soul named Istvan answered a call from his mother only to drop dead as soon as he picked up the call.
Panic started to spread once again and people quickly grasped the notion that no phone calls should be answered period. So they started using alternative methods such as Messenger and Skype to conduct their everyday conversations. Just a week after their use became the new norm almost worldwide, these platforms started to be affected as well. It seemed that whatever this was, it was very similar to a biological virus, once a way was found to keep it under control, it adapted and found new ways to get into people‘s lives and it did so at an alarming speed, no living organism can adapt this quickly. The next trick up its sleeve, when people started refusing to answer any calls in any program, was to not only call, but pick up by itself as well, which was not very effective as there were no ears next to the receivers, so the auto pick-up had no effect. But the virus (it had no official name, Screecher, Shrieker, Banshee, The Call, Grim Reapers Voice and other pseudonyms were used, but since nobody who heard it could tell what it sounded like, no one official name was stuck to by the general population) was resilient and did not despair in this shortcoming, so just a few days later it learned that in addition to auto pick up it need to turn on the speaker as well. This was disastrous as most people still carried their phones with them, as they were, in fact, a useful, albeit now slightly deadly, tool.
This caused an absolute mayhem, as it seemed that no solution would do, every step people took to avoid this, was overridden by a new form of this thing just days later. Some spheres were already struggling to cope as long distance verbal communication was a part of many successful ideas and businesses. Not to mention that there were no flights going anywhere while all this was taking place. Religious communities started banding together for prayer and contemplation, some more sect-like structures even decided that burning the phones in a communal bonfire would be the way to go, which ended up killing some of their members as they simply suffocated from the toxic fumes of burning plastic phones.
The telephone manufacture companies were first confused, then distraught and finally, overjoyed. People were terrified of their phones on account of killer phone calls, but still needed them for leisure, business, social media and other stuff in between, so the companies immediately started mass producing speakerless phones and offering them at outrageous prices which people still paid as by now it was either this, or live in the dark ages. With this everything started to normalize, industries started coping with the crisis and one by one found an alternative way of communication.
This was the end of long distance verbal communication, it was tainted forever and banished from people‘s lives never to be seen again. To Heather‘s, who somehow managed to outlive this entire ordeal, utter joy this was the end of call centres as well and now she had a calm and soothing desk job of answering e-mails, some of which were written in all caps, but reading such letters was not the same as having to listen to the caps lock put on the voice of some clueless brat who does not know what roaming is and never even bothered checking its prices.
All was well and soon people could hardly remember what life was like when they could make calls, life could not return to the way it was so it simply made a few minor adjustments and kept on going as best it could. Teenagers hardly even noticed that anything has changed at all given their overall reluctance to make or take phone calls, so the young generation was more than adapted to this new way of living and things were looking up.
Henry, however, was only looking up when he had a nearly empty bottle the contents of which urgently belonged in his stomach. He has made his home behind a dumpster in one of Manhattan‘s alleyways and was currently sulking there since he did not have any bottle on hand, nearly empty or otherwise. It was almost the break of dawn and the streets were empty, as the part of the town Henry was in was mostly office buildings which started to fill up when the working hours rolled in. He still had a few coins and wagered that he would be able to rake up enough to get some decent stuff at the corner shop if he would get to the entrance of the subway station and found a nice place to sit before the morning commuters started pouring in. He got up from his cardboard bedding and started making his way to the empty street when he saw a small shape huddled on the corner of his alleyway. Henry hesitated but quickly decided that whatever it was posed no threat, so he started casually making his way towards it. Upon getting closer it turned out to be a small boy of no more than 8 years of age. The child seemed cold and lost and Henry came closer to it even though he was never good with kids. He did not know what could he do for the little bastard and there was no way in hell he was ever stepping a foot into a police building ever again even on a noble cause, but he approached the child nonetheless. Henry got close to the kid but before he had a chance to say anything or announce his presence, the boy‘s head snapped up, his eyes widened and he let out a sound like nothing Henry has ever heard before, but he did not have a chance to think about what this may sound like as he was dead before he even hit the floor. The child looked at the corpse at its feet for a second, huddled in its coat and went over to the same direction Henry was heading to – towards the metro station where scores of morning commuters should start pouring in at any moment now.

Lets build one hundred different tavern owners to make taverns more interesting!

Die Roll	Result
1	Davis Owensby - A retired farmer who converted his old barn into a tavern. This tavern keeper brews all his own beers with hops that he grows. He will sit and talk about farming for hours, if you let him. He is worried about his cows going missing, and suspects the ogres in the hills are to blame.
2	The Ghost of Sel'seren - This tavern is haunted by the previous tavern keeper who died a few years ago. Sel'seren was a gorgeous elven woman who treated all her guests like family. People who stay the night in this inn report having their covers being pulled over them on cold nights on their own, and mugs of ale being refilled on their own.
3	Mugsy - The ex-criminal Mugsy is a goblin who pulled off a BIG heist in his past, and is using the tavern as a cover to stay under the radar. He speaks fluent Thieve's Cant and usually takes a liking to rogue players. He charges paladins extra.
4	Slunk Copperpot - Slunk is a goblin stripper who recently came into possession of her own tavern because the previous owner died of mysterious circumstances. Slunk was always his favorite dancer, and he left the tavern to her in her will. The strange thing is, he died within days of telling Slunk that information. What a coincidence!
5	Al'Ashir - This foreigner from the desert is looking to start his new business in a land far from his home. He is overly accommodating, and typically cooks all the meals himself. If the patrons aren't used to desert cuisine, they may find it particularly on the dry side.
6	Thain D’ulbris - A former adventurer who says he has traveled with all the great heroes though none of his stories match up he is a portly fun loving man. Though he is a bit loud he has ties to the rebels though he doesn’t advertise this other than his rampant and aggressive nationalism he uses as a cover.
7	Lily - This charming, attractive Elven woman always seems to know exactly what to say to cheer up patrons and get them talking. A town drunk swears that she's actually a disguised monster and the head of a local organized crime syndicate.
8	Mimi - This enchanted wizard's familiaapprentice runs the bar, using her telekinetic abilities in place of hands. The bar features a variety of exotic drinks from across the world and even some extraplanar ones (dangerous and highly expensive drinks only available with a reservation and advance order).
9	Nimue - This bright red horned tiefling has spent quite a bit of money on the decor of her bar, which is themed after hell. The barestaurant is upscale, and the food and drinks, while good, are pricy. This is a popular spot for the children of nobility to attend. The bartender has acquired several rocks enchanted with Nystul's Magic Aura, which she has put in the foundations in order to create an "aura of evil" around the place.
10	Kra'ax Three Claw - The hulking Half-Dragon is surprisingly well mannered, but will violently throw out anyone they learn takes part in the trapping of animals. They lost their left foot to an owlbear trap while traveling the wilds and sorely miss going on long treks through the untamed wilderness. Will buy or trade at a very fair price for fresh wild berries and unique stones.
11	Grin Stoneboot - A stout dwarf, with fiery red hair and no beard, that owns and operates a tavern carved entirely from one large stone block. He’s known for his wild tales of his missing flying monkey. Every time one of his patrons asks him something he always manages to lead the conversation toward his missing monkey (Nam). Rumor has it that Grin shaved his beard and won’t regrow it until he finds his lost friend. I’m sure Grin would have a fantastic reward for the player that found poor Nam.
12	Orx Thrallkeep - former gladiator, living his best life running a bar with a solid connection to the local sporting events community and betting parlors. His favorite weapon, a silver trident, is more than just decoration behind the bar.
13	Abeg Two-Smiles - reformed thief, he was horribly scarred by an angry tavern owner during his early life and eventually returned from his adventuring days to not only buy the bar itself but also to help guide young, troubled future thieves by honing their skills and boasts that anyone able to successfully steal a mug from his bar will drink free for a year. So far, none have been able to do so.
14	Juli Wise (formerly Jani the Jannkiller) - druid with a focus on elemental magic, she's laying low for the time being until the next planar alignment allows her return to some mysterious place where her allies are waiting. In the meantime, she's keeping busy and trying get information from every traveler staying at her roadside inn.
15	Herk - a goblin who found the perfect score in treasure hunting - dead adventuring groups. His specialty is building quiet, lethal traps and placing them in front of already-cleared dungeons after the adventurers have entered. They die, he collects the loot and puts it to work building a safe space for his extended family. Remarkably, he's happier running a tavern than he ever was living in dungeons and caves.
16	Josh - A well-mannered ogre. Runs a small tavern on the edge of town, and it's clear that he puts a lot of love into it. His family was kidnapped for a gladiatorial arena, meant to test fighters prowess. Josh could never really stand the sight of blood, so he opted to take on the position of cook for the combatants in the arena. He's very self-conscious about his size, but he's a gentle giant, and a friendly soul. Speaks with a slight New Zealand accent.
17	Weiss and Jaded - an Aasimar and Tiefling Wife/Husband duo. Weiss mans the bar putting patrons to ease with her holy feminine charm while Jaded in the back is the Cook and Brewmaster known for his signature drink Devil Rose Ale. If asked about their relationship they'll simply state that it was originally a joke to screw with friends but they learned to truly love each other.
18	Lurag Strongbrew - Lurag is a retired Dwarven barbarian. He made it his mission in life to find the lost mead recipe of the legendary Dwarven brewer, Gilgoth Honeybeard. Once he retrieved it, he settled down and opened a tavern to share the legendary brew with the world.
19	Meef, Störsk, and Gjël - A trio of gnomes who take turns bussing tables, cooking, and bartending. Tavern is built into the bottom of a cliff-face and the goblins added wooden structure to turn a large hollow into a serviceable, if somewhat cramped for medium and larger characters. They each have small wooden protrusions on tight fitting jerkins that attach on the back of the each shoulder. They use these to boost eachother up and grab things from the top shelves. The food and beverages are mostly fungi-based with some options for everybody. They all complain of the smell if asked to cook meat, but will aquiesce and make the food without further qualm.
20	Kareem Sandjabar - A mage who runs the tavern liberal use of mage hand, unseen servant, summons, and other magical means. Keeps a pet mimic named Boorf in the tavern that likes to prank people by turning into mugs and foot stools. Will pay handsomely for self-washing dishes because he cant stand the way his minions clean them.
21	Elias Alondir - A high elf mage who seems a bit out of place running a tavern. Being a bit of a germaphobe, he has several unseen servants as his wait staff as well as his psudodragon that collects payment and tips. Elias never touches the coins from his customers, instead dumping it all into a chest with Mage Hand and cleaning it later. When the tavern gets busy, the high elf gets a bit of anxiety and copes by letting out small laughs and chuckles as he converses with his patrons. The name of the tavern? The Laughing Mage.
22	Iphin - A minor god of alcohol who got bored just being in his realm, sells stranded drinks for cheep and high quality drink for exorbitant prices, can cure hangovers for a price.
23	Chime - This kenku is the owner and operator of Three Crows tavern/inn. The main drink is made in house and is called the three crows. Upon taking the first drink of a freshly poured Three Crows the drinker feels a burp coming but when they open their mouth to burp they let out three caws (bird sounds) the bigger the drink you take the louder the caws should be, the smaller the sip the more quiet. Chime being a Kenku and having difficulty with communication has signs all around his tavern, not just menu/room and board, but also common sayings and phrases that he’ll point to when he doesn’t feel like interacting Backstory Chime a retired Pirate, he was The first mate to the famous Captain Dread. He retired after he was injured in a battle with the Royal Navy.
24	Littlebob Mancoon is a retired (from adventuring) halfling rogue with prison tattoos on his face. Barrel chested and rather tall for a halfling, he has a dead pan sense of humor but always raises one eyebrow when he's joking. Deep voiced, he is a quick talker who says "ya ya" and "no ya" alot. Always a gambler, he won this tavern called the Way Way in a high stakes game of Kiriki while incarcerated. He has a special where you roll 2 dice and are served drinks according to the outcome. If you roll a 1 and a 2 it's on the house. He also charges half price for those that order in thieves cant.
25	Vorrakas Crixush - Red dragonborn paladin-turned-mercenary-turned tavern owner. Despite suffering great tragedy in his life, he is a stern, yet friendly and fatherly figure. A life-time of adventuring has made him a veritable font of wisdom on the subject, and many up-and-coming adventurers come to him for advice. Runs the Red Fang tavern and inn with his old friend and sworn-brother, the dwarf Hjolthrun Bronzeheart. Mess with his wait staff at your peril. Don't mess with his adoptive drow daughter if you wish to live a long life.
26	Casémone Cosmone - A grey-skinned, brown-haired and ram-horned retired Lyre-playing Bard that runs a feywild-style tavern and claims himself to be a Faun. Drinks and dishes are named after imaginary feywild herbs, shrooms and berries, and tables are engraved with rings to make them look like tree stumps. Truth of the matter is he is simply a Tiefling that looks vaguely Faun-like and attempts to use this as a trick to get customers. Locals are usually aware of this, but an unassuming stranger may find themselves tricked. Despite knowing the trick, locals still come for the unique atmosphere and Casémone's bright smile and relentless dedication to the facade.
27	Hjolthrun Bronzeheart - Dwarven ex-mercenary, now part-owner and brewmaster of the Red Fang tavern and inn. A jolly old soul always willing to share a few tales to anyone who asks. Spends his days experimenting with new types of alcoholic drinks, from making wine from watermelons to trying to recreate an old recipe that includes slime from a gelatinous cube. His most prized possession is a reinforced dwarven adamantine beer stein his calls Fimbul'kheled (Great Mug). Mess with his wait staff are your peril. Don't mess with his drow sworn-niece if you wish to live a long life.
28	Aialla, a human bard who failed to make it in the big city and now runs an inn focused on performances. This way she can play all she wants. She's not amazing but not horrible either. Here anyone can play or read. In fact you need to perform or the price of your meal is doubled. What you perform is up to you, but each customer must do something on stage to get the discount.
29	Angus Throwbeard - a surly dwarf that walks around on stilts, making him seven and a half foot tall.
30	Dirk Prophet- Assimar Bartender with a love of spiced and mulled drinks. He stands at 6'5" and has golden hair with silver freckles. The most popular drink he makes is called Celestials call, it is 3 part vodka, one part berry juice, bitters and a sprinkling of mint and spices and a touch of silver dust. A retired bard he has his lute about the bar and can sometimes be caught playing on slow nights.
31	Boogle the Gnome - He has a pack of weasels that help him tend the bar.
32	Fizz the Kenku - who repeats your order back in your own voice. The "Fizz" is literally the sound of a sudsy beer being poured.
33	Father Endros - Tends bar at a location run by the local church. He and his fellow monks brew beer in the name of their diety.
34	Misty Spring - A hard as nails half elf who was raised by a nature loving human parent and now hates that lifestyle, almost as much as she hates her name. She hasn't left the confines of the city she lives in for years.
35	Floria - A sweet halfling barkeep who just wants to be everyone's mother. She has her regular's meals waiting for them when they clock out of their shifts. She is VERY attentive with her patrons.
36	Umlog and Nevell aka "the beauty and the beast". Umlog is a literal troll, yet an extraordinary one. He's as intelligent as a troll can be and actually not a bad fellow. He is well read and has particularly deep knowlegde of local laws. He acquired his tavern in a remote deal via an exchange of letters. No one knew a troll was the buyer, before the deal was done. People in this area -close to the feywoods- are very keen on honoring deals and contracts and thus, somewhat begrudgingly abstained from gathering their torches and pitchforks. The success of the "Green side of Life" -that's the name of the tavern- is not only based on Umlog's craftiness, though. A nymph named Nevell works in the tavern at the side of Umlog. She is hospitality personified, a skilled chef, baker and singer. Nobody except them seems to know how they ended up together, but they run a really homely place in a village on the edge of civilization.
37	Pierce "Ears" Moldun, a balding human with normal sized, non-pierced ears, is the owner of Sweet Relethe. He is always looking down, at the drink he is pouring, the bar he is polishing, or the food he is cooking. He is a man of few words. Tell him, "Ears, I need to give away a story," and leave a proper sum on the bar. You will know what his service is worth if you truly need it. It may be expensive, but rarely more than one can pay. The price is different for every story, but if you do not offer enough, he will know after a quick glance at you. He will shake his head and continue with his work. If your coin is sufficient, he will nod his head, then get the dark blue bottle down from the top shelf. Slowly. Carefully. The bottle is beautifully made, but you find yourself unable to describe it apart from the color. He will pour a tiny shot, small as a thimble, before replacing the bottle and pulling you a beer to go with it. He will tell you that it's best to drop the shot in the beer then drink it slowly as you tell your story. It is best to trust him on this. As you begin your story, he will look up at you with eyes the same color as the bottle, and you will not be able to look away. He will listen intently as you tell your story, and as the words pass your lips they will also pass out of your memory. The regulars say that even if someone is sitting right next to you, they will not hear a word, just the quiet mumbling of a slow moving river. You will leave Sweet Relethe no longer possessed by your story, not in the slightest upset at your expenditure, and quick to recommend Ears of Sweet Relethe to anyone who seems in need of his service.
38	Ripzicki Papqat - Gnomish owner of "The Shimmer and Shine," Rip is known for drinks that pack a punch stronger than their small size lets on. An accomplished but eccentric alchemist, Rip has taken to testing out the effects of his drinks at his inn.
39	Shanassa the Viridescent - Dryad owner of "The Cornicopia," Shanassa's inn is actually a tree magically manipulated to house guests. Unfortunately, she had to close down the tables balanced on branches until she could figure out how to get drunk customers to stop falling off.
40	Arthur "Art" Igneous Ficer - Art is a an average sized fellow with sallow skin and sunken eyes. To give you an idea of his general appearance: despite owning a bar and inn for travelers, it looks like Art is the one that really could use some rest. But Art is a pleasant man with a passion for magically enchanted items. He gladly will talk to any traveler with such an item about the item. He finds it all fascinating. He will tell you that he used to dabble a little, but he couldn't find too many volunteers. So, he opened a bar and inn, and that pays pretty well. He keeps the price low, and that keeps travelers coming in. If you decide to stay for the night, all weapons need to be left in his care before you head up to your rooms. He's had too many drunken fights break out in the dormitory area, he will tell you. For any party member that blacks out at the bar or decides to stay the night, the DM must roll a D4 when the party member checks out of the inn. You see, Art never did give up his love of magic item creation, and he is desperately working on figuring out how to enchant weapons and items in a single night. DM rolled a 4? Surprise! An item of yours, at the DM's choosing, has acquired a properly functioning effect, also of your DM's choosing! Rolled a 3? Well, it's the same as 4, except the DM will also roll a 1d10 on your every use/attack, and a 1 will mean that your item misfired in wild magic (DM's choice). A 2? Oof. Well, it is the same as rolling a 3, except your item is completely unmagical except for the 1d10 chance of wild magic. And if the DM rolls a 1, then you were significantly robbed of either money or an item. Making magical weapons and items costs a lot, after all, and Art has a bit of rogue in him, it seems. Also, for any night a party member stays at the inn, there is a 1d6 chance of an unsatisfactorily explained small fire breaking out overnight. The following morning after such a fire, Art normally looks a little worse for wear.
41	Judy Krom - Owner of the Dog's Ear Inn, she learned a spell of invisibility to "clean up messes". most patrons are none the wiser but casting a spell to see invisible things reveals that the cups and bar top are coated with years of dirt and grime. The town isn't really sure why people are getting so sick all the time but the bar is always packed because Judy is such a charismatic person. She'll tell you stories for hours, but none of them are true.
42	Will Hornton - This bar called The Screaming Pickle has been in his family for 5 generations. People come from miles around for his pickle hooch. He never married and has no son to pass the bar to and it's getting late in his years. However, the business has slowed since the latest news of the campaign has scared customers off and he isn't sure he will have had anything to pass on to a kin anyway.
43	Abigail Turnsprout - A jolly halfling who is an avid gardener. She spices her drinks with unique herbs grown in her garden just behind her tavern, The Tipsy Turnip. Her prized Top Shelf Brew has a secret recipe of herbs and spices that many have tried and failed to obtain.
44	Tally- an older, buff halfling woman who speaks with a country accent and repeatedly calls the players "honey." Used to be an adventurer and tells stories of the fights she once found herself in.
45	Bob, Jim, and Clyde- three gnomes in a trenchcoat. They all have completely different personalities, opinions of different races, and pricing. They go by whatever the name is of the gnome whose head is on top that day!
46	Oldeye Jasper - An elderly human with one white lazy eye. He's warm and inviting to people who come into his bar, but if you let him, he'll talk to you for hours about his conspiracy theories like Lizardfolk secretly running the kingdom, or Fey leaving changelings in place of local children, and the mayor being secretly a swarm of pixies in disuse. But these are just the ramblings of an old man. Right?...
47	Sweeps - An animated broomstick that serves drinks and cleans the tavern 24/7. This would be extremely advantageous if he weren't so incredibly clumsy. He was made by the previous owner and now the current owners don't know how to get rid of him.
48	Sloppy' Joe Reznar. A Half Orc who earned his nickname for often being drunker than his customers.
49	Tivali - A female tabaxi with 5 young kids all the same age who love roaming around the tables asking adventurers tons of questions. They will sometimes place wagers or entertain for money in order to compete with their siblings for who can make the most money in one night. If they were to ever get into trouble, Tivali would suddenly be there scooping them into her arms. She's a racing champion who's known to be able to run faster than a falcon can fly.
50	The Tavern - There is no tavern keeper because this magical tavern is it's own keeper. Food appears on tables seconds after ordering it, and all you must do to pay is toss coins onto the wooden floor which immediately disappear without even a sound. There are no rooms available in this tavern, it is simply for enjoyment only. Those who forget to pay the bill tend do go missing the next day...
51	Amie, Aedricks, and Harlen. Triplets who’ve inherited a tavern. They are a Human, Elf, and Half-Elf and the Human and Elf are always feuding, leaving the Half-Elf to mediate. When the heroes arrive, the two are in such a bad fight, it must be resolved before the party can rest there for the night.
52	Elane of Juunvanfel. She is a young bartender, daughter of the ancient bartender who was a mythomaniac. Everyone knows it, but He was harmless. He was saying he was a prince of a far away land called Juunvanfel, but no one believe him. Elane talk about it with a lot of humour, and there's no chance she is really a princess. But she is really kind and charismatic, and everyone in town called her Little Queen. (if you want the lie to be true, why not!)
53	Drubogg. An orc (or half-orc) who was a raider in the past. After 15 years of jail, the local authority had free him with mercy. One of the tavern in the town was dying because the bartender was very sick, and Drubogg help him to run his business. Since 3 year, this impressive orc are a meticulous bartender and the town seems to accept him quit gently, even with his violent past. He take care of the previous bartender with a cold, but sincere kindness.
54	Jomag and Marsia. A couple who run the tavern since 20 years. The love between them is still joyful. But sometimes, they seems to be quit melancholic. If the players want to know something about it, the bartenders don't want to spread the information. But the customers will respond : they suffer they can't have children. Maybe, if one day the PCs find an orphan, they can make them very happy.
55	One-Day-He. A clever halfling who is a sorcerer who had change his name to make a contract with a powerful, but naive, Wealth Spirit. After 10 years of labor in this tavern, he will have access to an impressive amount of gold. Technically, he trade his soul... but the contract say "One-day-he will give me his soul after he receive the gold.". He's very happy and boastful about that. Maybe he's not so clever, because it's obvious for the PCs that all rogue people in town just wait the day who One-Day-He will receive the gold to steal him. Maybe the Wealth Spirit is vexed to had been so naive, and will exchange the soul of One-Day-He with a lot of gold? Who knows!
56	Holt - A man in his mid thirties whos never left the town- and doesn't intend to. He knows everyone, and everyone knows him, and seems to owe him a favor. He's always willing to help out, going to great lengths to do so, and is very warm and welcoming to all in his tavern. The patrons of his tavern return his favors, and as such he holds many regular customers, many of who will jumpy quick to stop a destructive bar fight.
57	Nora Durthane and Agnes Baumann, a dwarf and human couple. Agnes keeps the ledger, walking through the tavern room like a queen through court, greeting every patron with a smile. Nora runs the kitchens, providing hearty fare for adventurers and locals. Their tiefling son helps run the bar and remove belligerent patrons.
58	Trish One-Eye - Owner and operator of the rickety old dive bar down by the docks. An old woman with a red embroidered eyepatch and short grey hair. She secretly can talk to rodents, and so can be an excellent source of rumors and information, if you get on her good side. Serves a spicy 'meat stew' which may or may not be made of cat. Will tell lewd jokes and talk shit about her ex-girlfriends if you get her drunk.
59	Eigen Renn: A tall, heavily built human with a smirking smile and an exceptionally loud laugh. Always knows just what to say to break up a fight or set up favorite patrons for romance. Full of stories, most of which are obvious lies that you can't help but half believe. Remembers everyone's first name, their drink, their birthday, their type, and their misadventures (which he will happily and loudly relate to the entire bar--but all in good fun). Ruddy faced, with scant blond hair and tired, grey-blue eyes. He brags that he is son of a tavernkeeper, who was son of a tavernkeeper, who was son of a fallen princess and a tavern keeper. He isn't. He also isn't Eigen Renn. In another time and a distant country he had another name, the name of a slave trader notorious for his charm and cunning. He dealt in "specialties:" finding just the right slave for your particular, and highly expensive taste. Children, oddities, half-breeds, even sentient monsters were all his trade. Rumor says he once sold a nobleman his own son after faking the boy's death. Another says he sold two rivals to each other, then sold both to a particularly inventive necromancer. Nothing was beneath him, and no one was beyond his reach. An elaborate magical ruse allowed him to escape his old life (with pockets full of gold and magical protections for his "retirement"), he now amuses himself playing tavern keeper and practicing his own slaver's skills by manipulating the lives of his clients. Whether his enemies find him again--and if they do whether he is worth saving--is up to you.
60	Bart Keep - an irresponsible innkeeper who runs a shoddy tavern. The food and drinks are low quality, brawls happen too often, a lot of stuff get stolen, and one time a pack of rats invaded the tavern. And he never notices because he says that he's busy with 'other things'. And when he means other things, he means looking at erotic literature and pleasuring himself. No wonder no one even bothered to shut down his tavern yet.
61	Alice Bob - An innkeeper of a tavern with a horrible reputation who tries her hardest to make her tavern better, and yet she only makes things worse. Turns out that the tavern is cursed by a witch after Alice refused to serve her, thus cursing the tavern with bad luck.
62	Xaero Xsisth: A lizardfolk woman, exiled in her youth from her tribe for being highly intelligent, which lizardfolk generally shun. Growing up in the shadows and alleys of a grand city, she learned how to cook, bake, brew and serve by observation. Asking her any question about tribal life may cause her to have an emotional breakdown. Xaero loves hearing tales of daring and adventure and if the story is good enough, she may just let you have a snack for free!
63	Jasmine Mcaull - A blue macaw parrot aarokocroa who serves up any rum-based drink with a song and a smile. She often requests bards to try their hand at playing salsa music in her tavern and is known to give a couple of unsolicited tips to the adventurers that seem to appreciate the unusual music. Her tavern stands out for its bright colors and attempts at island decor.
64	Torin Pliedes - A solicitous satyr who spends half his time behind the bar and half his time tormenting the serving wenches. He has a permanent "Help Wanted" sign in the window as he's a cruddy boss and most don't tolerate his attentions for long. He's so preoccupied that half the time he pours the beer but doesn't collect the money he's owed.
65	Falstaff Argon - A stout half-orc who boasts about his accomplishments as an adventurer and proudly displays his war axe on an ebony plaque behind the bar. He challenges adventurers to take the bigger jobs and bigger hunts if he hears them deliberating in his tavern. He was injured badly in his last adventure and decided only then to retire, though it is clear he misses the life. He pays nobly for a good stag or boar and is known to post hunts of unusual creatures that plague the area.
66	Grimm - This tavern is actually run by a number of different people and the main bartender switches out every single day to an entirely new person - but behind the scenes, it’s just a single changeling practicing their acting.
67	Illia the Wise: A handsome dwarf woman, Illia is actually Illixthalix, an adult Gold Dragon who is locked in her dwarf form due to a run-in with a Fey spirit decades ago. Became a tavern keeper initially to keep her ear to the ground to try and find someone who could break the curse, but has found that she quite likes living amongst mortals. The local government is aware of her true draconic nature, and she has a tense agreement to advise them on matters concerning dragons, historical events, and magic items in exchange for them not causing her trouble. She can temporarily assume her true form, but doing so causes a good deal of discomfort and she is unable to hold the form for longer than a few moments (quite long enough to intimidate unruly patrons to settle down however). Is THE expert on the architecture and infrastructure of the now-nonexistant country of Grecciyn and has authored four books on the subject.
68	Talensvar - Talensvar is a highly civilized ogre who dresses eloquently every night and keeps an immaculate establishment. The servers are all well-dressed, well-spoken and polite. Some are half-orcs, and some of the kitchen staff and plate clears dishwashers etc are goblins as well as human. It's a high-end inn. my game talents are lost two of his friends under mysterious circumstances in a battle and will pay adventurers to find them. He is well spoken polite tolerant, everything you don't expect an ogre to be. However he doesn't put up with any nonsense, except from a friend of his who's a local hedge wizard, who will be happy to join a party just for some pay at the end of it. He uses spells that often spectacularly fail, usually with somewhat comic but not too harmful results.
69	Rondo “Double Dizzy” Thimblebottom: A retired Gnome Ranger Beastmaster who hung up his adventuring cap after his lifelong friend and pet Giant Badger, Dizzy, was slain in combat. He’s now the proprietor of Dizzy’s Pub, a dive-y but well-loved pub by locals who come to hear Rondo recount tales of his adventuring days, some comical, some downright frightening. A giant painting (by gnome standards, it’s only 60”x48”) of Dizzy curled up resting under a tree is adorned above a fireplace in the pub.
70	Gina and Reyna, Gina is a kenku woman who owns the tavern and helps run it if the party has any questions she will point to Reyna her adopted daughter and tell them 'Ask Reyna'. Reyna is a half eleven girl that is 19 she has been teaching Gina how to talk more and is more then willing to answer any of the party's questions.
71	Tolbin Shortwick, a halfling rouge who speaks thieves' cant and has a few drugs and basic potions that you can get if you speak thieves' cant to him. There are investigations on people getting robbed at other taverns and with further investigation you will learn it was Tolbin or if you speak thieves' cant Tolbin will tell you it was him.
72	Chopper - A half-orc who cultivates rumors that they chop off body parts of those who dont pay their tab. They keep a few bottles on display with fingers and toes preserved inside, and have a ritual requiring those who want to start a tab, "Kiss the Toe" by taking a drink from one of the bottles. Truth is, Chopper secretly knows a Gravedigger who can procure parts, no questions asked.
73	Sweet Leaves - A small treant. The only type of alcohol that's served in their establishment is a special kind of Kirsch. This is because Sweet Leaves makes all their alcohol with their own cherries. As a result, Sweet Leaves' tavern is small but popular to a small group interested in the Kirsch.
74	Virtus Swifttail - A slightly overweight centaur in his late 20s who decided that he preferred city life over the nomadic life of his former tribe. While he's chatty and provides good service, he often ends up bumping things accidentally with his horse half.
75	Barrus Fymar - A large human man who's in his early 60s who towers over most of his guests. He used to be a paladin adventurer, but he lost his sword arm during a battle with a nightwalker and retired to become a tavern keep. He still displays the magical greatsword he used on his journey inside his tavern, but it's now unusable by him.
76	Sinead, Iron Golem operator of J.J. Killahans - Sinead was originally conjured as a bouncer for the rowdy establishment. The original owner, J.J., left the bar to Sinead in his will. Sinead runs the bar, though hospitality is often beyond her reach. She plays the same 3 tavern songs on a 15 minute loop, as 15 minutes is more than adequate time for a customer to consume their drink (and promptly leave).
77	Silent Joey is abnormal because he's, well, silent. Normally this would be an unacceptable obstacle for a bartender, but Joey is a master drink-maker and surprisingly good at interacting with customers. He's a very good listener, too.
78	Greenscarf Tabitha has the power of appearance-changing but can't control it. She wears a green scarf so others can identify her, as it's anyone guess what face you'll see when you walk in each evening.
79	Malamenmar is a polite and talkative guy who runs a quiet inn on a mountain road. But once a month a mysterious man comes into the bar and Malamenmar drops everything to cater to this guy. If pressed he will reply that the man is a very dear friend and he values his comfort highly.
80	Ranold & Ezra Nikos are brothers. Outgoing Ranold tends bar, reserved Ezra handles the supplies and finances. The strange thing is that the two are never seen in the same place at once.
81	A blind bartender that doesn’t realize his formerly-white rag is dirtying the glasses, but he still keeps perfect track of who orders what.
82	Kurdran Brewhammer - This Dwarf is the last remaining Brewhammer, legendary brewers that were known far and wide for a huge variety of beers. Kurdran is a retired adventurer who loves battle and action. He has a tall orange mohawk and a big bushy beard and is extremely proud of his family heritage. He's very friendly and loves to tell tales of his various adventures, but if provoked he is a fierce barbarian. With a swig of beer, he's ready to brawl!
83	Captain Andor Gray is the innkeeper of Sparrow's Rest. He was the captain of the Night Wind, a smuggling ship, but is now earning a mostly honest living. He retired after a shipwreck that killed most of his crew. He still keeps "Pickle", a green parrot, who can usually be found in the common room. The bird will squawk "awk stay outta the grog awk" whenever someone refills their mug from the cask that Gray keeps out, free for the sailors who can't afford better. You can almost always find a fence buying goods there (no questions asked), and rumors say there's a hidden tunnel from the cellar that leads under the city wall to an abandoned quarry.
84	Joost is the friendly innkeeper of the Crown and Crescent inn. He's either a very tall dwarf, or maybe a half-dwarf (no one's sure, and he won't say). He has rust-colored hair and a braided beard, which he tucks into his apron.
85	Kósh is the half-orc innkeeper of the Outside Inn, just outside the city of Redcliff. He named it, but he doesn't really get the joke. Surprisingly, the inn does good business, even though it has few amenities except for a large stable and a good location if you're just passing through the city.
86	Zhirella is the attractive female half-elf innkeeper (and madame) of the Golden Bush tavern. It's very popular for its high-class courtesans.
87	Egan 'Rusty' Ironmane is the dwarf innkeeper of the Silver Eel Tavern. He was formerly a fisherman and before that a soldier.
88	Hard'ach "Hardy" Sl'avis - A dragonborn with the mannerisms of a dwarf, he inherited his tavern from his grandfather, Sil'bahn. He has a knack for making spicy meals for his patrons, and is quite a friend to make, knowing all of the goings-on in the town.
89	Cressida and Corinth Vor Haishen - a Dwarven couple with an adopted minotaur for a son far taller than either of them. They'll give you a discount if you can tell their son a story that'll keep him entertained for a bit, and want your input on where to send such a curious young boy to learn more. An academy, a monastery, they want input!
90	Skaesgolr the Tired - Skaesgolr the Tired of the Uthgardt will tolerate near enough anything, a fair fight is welcome, but assassins and thieves are not. He has much pride, and still believes he honours Uthgar, both with his past, and his present. His greatest achievement, a Giant sized great axe, it can be seen broken and damaged, hung in it’s ruined majesty on the rear wall above the bar. Anyone who challenges his idea or faith in his God will be challenged to a fight and/or be made to leave. Growing tired of finding the next great challenge, he claims that if Uthgar wants him to die in some great battle, it will have to find him - here he will wait... warm, well fed, with a belly fully of ale and a sack full of silver.
91	Molly Rexxen - A red-headed human female who always wears a bandana over her hair. She's a retired high level fighter who was once a soldier, and was ridiculed because she was a woman amongst the guard. When her city was surprised attacked by a neighboring band of monsters, she devised a plan and led the charge that protected the city with no casualties. After this, she turned down a promotion and quit to build her tavern and create an adventuring guild.
92	Modeus Jackson - a retired high level bard who runs "The Pocket" Inn. Often humming as he works and any action he does seems to follow the rhythm to an unheard song. In fact anyone who stays in "The Pocket" for long enough will find their actions more rhyrhmic than usual, joining in a symphony of synchronized cultery clanking, mastication, foot tapping under harmonising musical conversations and even melodious arguments. Modeus takes extra delight in serving Bard patrons who bring their own instruments and will offer discounts and advice in return for a quick performance.
93	Krall Razorthorn - Former half-orc warrior turned tavern owner, he exchanged his armor for a tuxedo. He runs a high class tavern called The Silk Sheik Tavern, specializing in dainty cocktails and high end drinks.
94	Borgrarg - Having amassed a fortune adventuring, this dwarf opened Drink. The tavern hasn't make so much as a copper piece in 4 years. He's been drunk all this time giving away drinks to anyone who walks in the door. Lucky for him, he's located in a small village, now known for its sobriety.
95	Marty Oggbin - smallish, middle-aged human, with a slight hunch on his back. Born and raised locally. Marty is forever the optimist and mysteriously manages to spin any traveler's downtrodden tale. He often gives away food to those most in need.
96
97
98
99
100