"Are you okay?"
I'm fine now, but I'm stuck in the closet till he leaves.
"How about you check to see if he's there anymore."
Hold on, I'll check *moves head towards the door and listens*
*In the distance* Scorpion? Hello? Marco?
Yup, still out there. *Notice Audience* Huh, I have a bigger closet then I thought… Anyway, what's up everyone! Scorpion here, stuck between a rock and a hard spot...
"AKA, the closet."
Don't remind me. With me on Skype is my beta and brother-from-another-mother (and father, before you ask), DJexe. Say 'Hi,' DJ.
" Hello, DJexe here. Working hard or hardly working?"
Funny. While we were finishing up this chapter, who would come-a knocking but freakin' Crowley. Course, don't want to talk to him, so I went to the safest place I can think of.
"How in the world is your closet the safest place you could think of!? I would have thought that you could choose an attic or something with actual space."
I know, not one of my better choices, but it was spur of the moment, so sue me. Anyway, done on your end?
"With the editing?"
What do you think?
"Relax. No need to be snippy with me. I got you covered."
Well, since every one of importance is here, lets continue.
"What about the jackass soul collector?"
Screw him. Now, we all know the technical bits to the story right? Like how I don't own anything?
"Let's just get this show on the road!"
Alrighty then, *Clears Throat* Chapter 2...
Ghosts of the Past
After four more hours of driving, the Winchesters finally settled down in a motel on the other side of town. Once they secured their room (guns under pillow, a hex bag sweep, and placing their own hex bags on the door stops and window seals), they officially started their brotherly day off. Though, in these rare occasions, they could never truly agree to how to spend their day. However, there is one consensus about where to begin.
They stared at each other with daring eyes, then at the lone bathroom provided by the motel. Within its confines, was a lone shower and a fresh bar of soap. These tools would be their release from the grime, blood, and other unpleasantries that now taints their bodies. Not that they never had a shower in a long time, but between the lethiavans, angels, demons, and everything in between, the time to enjoy the feeling of a long, hot, pleasant shower was something rare.
They looked at each other with strong intent in their eyes. They both wanted enjoyment out of their rinse. The Winchesters came closer together, keeping eye contact the whole time, their breath heavy with anticipation. Things didn't always go like this, but when they did, they were always memorable. Just like this will be. Sam and Dean, passionate in what they about to do, raised their hands in front of them, and…
Slap, slap, slap, SLAP!
"SON OF A BITCH!"
"Scissors again, Dean?" Sam asked smugly, winning shower privileges for the next hour in a game of rock-paper-scissors. He was about to walk in to claim his prize, but saw Dean in the stance again. They played once again, with Dean, again, playing scissors. And he wonders why I keep winning, Sam thought as he strutted into the bathroom, milking the moment for all it's worth.
"Come on, Sammy! I got cuddled by a vampire, for cryin' out loud!"
"Better a vampire then Becky!" Sam yelled through the door.
Dean simply nodded. There's no arguing' with that. He grabbed his things and walked to the door. He should have rested after that long drive, but those donuts were wearing off. "I'm going to grab us some lunch, and a movie. You want anything?"
"If you can find a good chief's salad…" Sam started, but Dean was out the door before he heard the rest of his brother's order. Sometimes, I forget that Sam was cross-bred with a rabbit was the last thought he had before hopping into his Challenger and driving off.
Dean didn't know where he was going, but he always had this skill of finding a greasy spoon on instinct alone, so he just turned on his built-in radar went in that direction. As he rode down the street away from the motel, Dean's thoughts began to drift into the past. He wasn't a big fan of these trips down memory lane. He wasn't a big fan of all the mistakes that he made, all the lies he told, and all the decisions he made that lead him to this point. Letting Sam leave for college and letting his dad all but disown him when he did: the car crash that forced the great John Winchester to sell his soul, allowing Sam death at that Psychic Ranch, then selling his soul to get him back, not trying hard enough to stay out of Hell, then giving in to the demons demands, starting the apocalypse, allowing Sam to fall into Ruby's trap, which allowed Lucifer to make bail, Ellen and Jo's deaths, then not saying yes to Michael, forcing the archangel to take Adam instead, agreeing to let Sam say yes, thus being taken by Lucifer, being powerless to stop Sam and Adam from falling into the Cage, his short retirement from hunting. Then there was Lisa and Ben, Castiel's fall from the path and the leviathan and Amy Pond…
The more he thought, the more it seemed like every waking second of his life was to cause suffering to himself and the people around him. He tried to be the man his father wanted him to be but every time he stepped up, someone got stepped on.
Dean got tired of feeling like crap, so he cranked up his CD. He shook the images of the past out of his head. I'm on vacation, dammit! he thought to himself as he took a gulp of his now cold coffee, and there is nothing that is going to stop me from enjoying it!
Two Bon Jovi songs later, Dean found a dive near an old truck stop that seemed slow despite the fact that it is lunch time. He didn't care, for that meant no lines, and as long as they had a juicy sirloin or a bacon cheeseburger (or a bacon cheeseburger made with ground sirloin), all the better. If Lady Luck isn't as much of a bitch as he grew up believing, they would also have pecan pie.
'Oh, right, Sam's veggies. Can't forget that,' Dean noted in a huff.
He parked his Challenger in front of the door. Like always, he took stock of his surroundings before he walked through the door. The emptiness of the parking lot began to unsettling. He spelled the cooking from just out the door, and the thought relocated to the back of his mind. Normally, his suspicion of the situation would take precedence, but his growling stomach wouldn't have it. If it was going to die, it was going to die full. So Dean checked his sidearm, concealed it in the back of his pants with his denim jacket over it, and walked in.
The cashier, an old, cream skin woman, was standing behind the register in a slump. Once she saw Dean stop in front of her and began scanning the menu, however, she straightened up her posture and primed her hair. "Hello, handsome," she said in a fashion that was nowhere near professional, "What can I help you with this lovely afternoon?"
Dean stopped when he saw her face. The way she stared at him as starting to make him somewhat uncomfortable, but he shook it off and placed his order. She gave him a wink, then went to give the ticket to the cook.
Dean figured that it would take a moment for the food to cook, so he took the time to survey the diner. It was relatively small, with eleven circular tables arranged in a tight square, and tables and benches mounted on the far wall. The place was old, likely older than he was, with a lot of the decorations fading with time. However, the place was clean, well-kept, and well-lit.
He walked around the diner, admiring the classic scenery, but became unnerved when the most important detail came to mind. 'WHERE THE HELL IS EVERYONE?' Dean thought as he checked his watch. It was half past noon, the peak of the lunch rush. Yet, the diner was empty. No wait staff, no customers, the only people in the building where the cashier, whoever is cooking the food that he is smelling, and himself.
After some more looking about, he did notice someone sitting in the far corner facing away from him. The fact that he didn't notice the guy till now surprised the hunter . Curious, Dean stepped closer to the old man in the corner, initially to see what he was having. As he got closer, the old man's features slowly revealing themselves. Pale skin, a black duster, a silver ring…
Oh, damn…
Dean began to back pedal towards the door, forgetting about the food he ordered. If it was who he hoped it was not, he should avoid being noticed. 'I'm not here... You don't see me... I'm not here... You don't see me...'
"Sit, Dean," commanded the cold, stern voice emanating from figure's place.
'DOUBLE DAMN!' Dean cursed in thought, struggling to contain his outrage.
Retreating now pointless, Dean reluctantly took a seat across from Death himself. As he did, he determined the answer to his earlier question. Humans, despite the many arguments to the contrary, are not as disconnected to nature as most would like to believe. Most people, unless drunk, high, stupid, and/or too young to know any better, will instinctively avoid supernatural threats. They avoid haunted houses are barren, cemeteries and dead forests, and become uncomfortable with hospitals and funeral homes for this reason. Expert hunters normally fall under two categories; those who have learned to push away that survival instinct, and those who keep up and learned to use that instinct to find and deal with their prey. John was an expert in the latter and Sam picked up that skill the hard way, which is why he scoured for the cases they worked.
Dean, running in to Death by sheer coincidence, was regrettably the former.
Death continued to eat what looked like fried mushrooms as Dean waited for anyone to break the silence. Dean felt the temperature increase at least ten degrees as he waited. This was not the first meeting with the oldest of the Four Horsemen, but he is not going to risk pissing off the guy who can just end his life without warning.
"They say that this diner has the best fried mushrooms in Ashland," Death lamented, breaking the uneasy silence, though things still felt uneasy, "Since this the first time trying them, I can't say if they are right or wrong. But I can definitely say that this is an interesting dish, regardless." He popped another mushroom in his mouth, visibly enjoying the flavor.
"I guess you are not the type to worry about clogged arteries?" the nervous Dean chuckled. A cold glare from the head reaper quickly brought back the silence.
"I may look human, Dean, but I have no arteries to clog to begin with," Death answered, humoring Dean's joke. He pushed a small plate towards the nervous hunter, then tipped his own basket over it, allowing a few of the fried mushrooms to fall on the plate.
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," Dean said as politely as he possibly could. A rare occurrence, he would admit.
Almost as if cued by a trickster, the cashier walked up to Dean and presented two large paper bags. "One order of the ground steak and bacon burger, with extra fries, and one order of the grilled chicken salad with caesar dressing and a side of whole wheat toast," she chirped. Dean, without turning his head, eyed the bags with a glare that could set them on fire if possible. He slowly grabbed the bags as the kindly and the unaware waitress dug the hole deeper, "I requested the cook to make a fresh pecan pie, so it will be about a half hour before it's ready. We will give you a second slice for your trouble, on the house." With that, the waitress returned to her station, leaving the blushing Dean with Death.
"'Not hungry,' right?" the reaper asked flatly.
'So, I'm sitting' in front of a man who is possibly older than GOD, who has just caught me doing something that was, by every definition of the word, stupid'. Dean thought quickly for a second. 'What would Cas do?'
"Umm… no," Dean said in a nervous chuckle, sliding back in his chair. He quickly covered the lie by changing the subject. "So, what brings you to these parts?"
Death, unfazed by the change in topic, took another bite of his fried mushrooms, and then wiped his mouth with the table napkin. "Like you, I wanted to take a break from reaping. Had to deal with a riot on the other side of the world, over a hundred souls to reap," Death answered nonchalantly. "I have a team of reaper's cleaning up the last of the mess. Which reminds me, I have a favor to ask of you."
Dean simply blinked. The sudden changes of topic caused some whiplash. It still amazes him how the guy can go from talking about mass killings to something as casual as asking for a favor in the same breath. Then again, he was associating human qualities with the Grim Reaper.
"I was given news about an issue occurring in these parts," Death continued after swallow another fried mushroom, "that some of the recently deceased has not crossed over."
"Considering the madness in Heaven and, well, freakin' Hell, I'm not surprised that people are taking different options," Dean admitted freely, remembering that crossing over is a choice. They would not have to deal with ghosts if the reapers were not so diplomatic in that area.
"That would be interesting if it was true," Death corrected, "Most souls are willing to crossover if it means internal peace. They don't all get that, but telling them their destination is neither our job nor our concern."
"Have you ever considered advertising," Dean joked. "Probably should get your boys to lighten their mood."
"I could do that," Death began, voice lowered from the growing annoyance, "if my reapers weren't being beaten to the souls."
With that, Dean's mood became serious. "Recently, the number of crossing souls has dropped over the past year. My reapers have arrived to bodies with no souls to ferry. Normally, they would simply move on to the next body, since there are other souls to reap. However, the frequency of these events has become a matter of interest."
"Didn't know you cared," Dean said offhandedly.
"I don't, really," Death admitted, "but the balance must be preserved, and missing souls eventually adds up." Death took the last of the fried mushrooms and polished it off. "Plus, there is the matter of one of my reapers going missing."
"Wait, what? One of the reapers went missing?" Dean said in shock, but went to a whisper to prevent drawing attention from the cashier. Reapers are known to stay out of sight except to those who are dead or dying. Plus, they can kill just by touching someone, with Death being able to do it just by thinking. So for any reaper to just fall off the radar isn't normal. "Don't you, like, keep track of them?"
"This is the other reason why I'm here." Death wiped his hands of the oil and continued. "Thanks to the near apocalypse, many of the reapers perished to break the locks on Lucifer's Cage. I'm short-staffed, and I don't really care for accepting applications."
A thought came to mind that made Dean quiver. "So… you want me to…," Dean began, drawing attention to the ring on Death's finger.
"No. Once was enough," the Reaper said with uncharacteristic quickness. He cleared his throat and moved on. "I'm still cleaning up the mess from the last time you were a reaper. Besides, that won't change the fact that souls are still going missing. No, this is something more in your original expert in this area."
"My job is preventing me from giving this 'inconvenience' the attention it rightfully deserves, and I can't spare more reapers to deal with it. You and your brother, however, just so happen to have arrived here with a clear schedule. So, I want you to find out who, or what, have interfered with the flow of souls and remove it in only the way you know how."
Dean sat there, absorbing and processing the information he just received. "Hold on, you want us do your job because you're shorthanded?" Dean questioned. Whether or not this is a legitimate problem, the Winchesters was no one's lap dogs. They had already made the mistake of working for Crowley, and now look at where they were: Cas was gone, the leviathans were loose, the monster problem had increased, and the world's in trouble again. Sure, Sam's very soul was on the line, but the damage was still done. "Why don't you get some other sucker to do your dirty work?"
"Because," Death began without hesitation, "unlike 'some other sucker,' I have given you the means to throw Lucifer back in the pit, your brother's soul from said 'pit,' a reprieve from my wrath, with you would have deserved considering, AND given you a second chance to throw God's Oldest Creations back in Purgatory. Which, by the way, you botched spectacularly!" Death's voice didn't rise a single octave from normal, but the intensity was felt throughout the diner. "Though I gave you the first for free and you did earn the second, you still owe me for the last two. Consider this the day where I get my due."
Dean couldn't even speak. The weight of that list was laid bare in front of him. He did not want to admit it, but he did ask a lot from Death. It was only on a whim that he did half of those things. He could have easily just said 'no' and let the world rot without so much as a moments guilt. Dean definitely didn't want to let something boss them around, but now, with everything he knows about this Horseman and what he's done and is capable of, the best option was to not get on his bad side. He had too much to lose if he said no. Besides, if people were in danger, it was his and his brother's job to deal with it however they can. It is the family business, after all.
With a reluctant sigh, Dean took one of the fried mushrooms that Death shared with him and ate it. Finally swallowing it, he answered, "Alright, where do we start?"
00000000
Third bell was lunch period. Any student's favorite time of the school day other than seventh bell, this was the end of the day. The cafeteria crowded once again, with hungry student getting to the lines to wait for their meals. Normally, they weren't as eager to eat whatever the school's kitchen had, which was capable of making them lose their breakfast if anything else. However, today, as thanks for the upperclassmen clean up of the local park the month earlier and the fund-raiser before then, the local pizzerias banded together and made the school pizzas along with the scheduled lunches. Because of this, it took Wyborn fifteen minutes to grab his slices. It was half the lunch bell passed by the time he joined Coraline, but it was well worth it. Coraline, having brought the sandwich, chips, cookies and juice box her mother packed, envied his luck.
The two both sat at their usual spots in the cafeteria. Their table was empty, but it was not a bother to them. They were not considered outcasts at the slightest; however, considering the qualifications to get in to the 'popular tables' (and what they been though), they both found it wiser just to keep to themselves. Students sometimes sat with them, mostly to get away from their other friends or just to find a moment's peace, but not today. It was great for Wyborn, now he can talk about the gross-thing-of-the-week without being called a weirdo, which even he would admit he was. No matter what day it was, the boy always had some sort of gross, creepy, or morbid story to share.
Today's story was none of these. But it was still weird.
"So, before the commercial break, they started to talk about how there are things that can overshadow other living beings. Once they are in your body, they can make you do whatever they want and you can't stop them," Wyborn recalled, with his mouth half full with pizza.
"You can't just have a normal conversation, can you?"
"Why? Ghosts and monsters are a lot more fun to talk about," the excited Wyborn countered. "Besides, you can't pull the 'Ghosts aren't real' card, Doll Girl."
A flash of the ghost children and the Beldame made the girl wince. It was a memory that Coraline has been struggling to forget since her encounter with them. She knew Wybie meant it a joke, making light what was dark. He didn't know about the times that she spent nights with her parents out of fear of losing them, or the times she could have sworn she saw the witch while on her way to school, or the nightmares that plagued her often, or that mornings she woke in cold sweats and had to remind herself that the world she is in was real, or the constant fear of waking up one morning and seeing buttons in people's eyes. Wyborn thought that she got over it, as she played off every mention of that time. He thought of her as strong and collected, a façade that she worked hard to keep up.
Coraline took a deep breath, and chuckled, "I can't, but that won't stop me from thinking you're crazy." She reached for her slice of pizza, quickly enough to prevent him from noticing that her hand was shaking. 'Calm down, girl. It was just a joke. This is the real world, and nothing can hurt you here.'
"Well anyways," Wyborn continued, "They said that a lot of things can use you as a meat suit." Coraline gave him a disgusted look. "Hey, their words, not mine. The only effective way to evict a ghost is to pour salt in yours or the victim's mouth. Cool, right?"
'Not really', thought Coraline as she took a bite of her pizza, 'The less sci-fi in my life at this point, the better.' However, the more she thought about it, the more curious she got. She decided to humor him. "Hey, Wybie? How is that supposed to help if you are already possessed? And what if there is no salt around to use?"
Wyborn thought about the question for a second. "Huh, don't know. But they did hear rumors about people taking back control by sheer force of will. They haven't seen it first hand, though. It turns out; possession isn't too common for ghosts. Something about 'having the energy to overshadow someone's will' or something like that."
Coraline, partly invested in what he was saying, saw someone sit down from the corner of her eye. The newcomer was a girl from one of her classes, Alexis DuPree. Coraline didn't know much about the red-headed girl. No one really did. Alexis mostly kept to herself and stayed quiet. They have talked a few times before, but only about school work. She is pretty nice the few times they conversed, and most teachers and some other students would agree. However, Coraline never really saw Alexis hangout with anyone. She was always huddled up somewhere either with a book or deep in thought.
"Hey, Jonesy…"
Alexis was deep in thought again as she always was. She didn't have any lunch with her, which struck Coraline as odd because 'Who didn't like pizza?' Another thing that struck her as odd was the fact that Alexis had on her thick, black jacket buttoned up to her neck. She did see her with it when they entered class that morning, and it wasn't against the rules as long as your uniform was on under it, but it was way too warm to wear it in the school. Especially with a fourth of the student body inside the cafeteria, making it much warmer.
"Hey! Earth to Jonesy…"
In fact, she always seem to have that jacket on. Coraline remembered that on the first day of class, Alexis had that same jacket on. Buttoned up and everything. Some of the students and teachers mentioned it to her a few times that day since she was visibly uncomfortable. However, she just told them that she was fine and nothing else. No one who knew her has said anything since, but they do carry worried looks when they see her though.
"CORALINE, WAKE UP!"
"Huh? What?" Coraline turned towards Wyborn. She didn't realize that she zoned out at the moment and felt the whiplash as she reentered reality.
"Are you going to just sit there, Doll Girl, or are you going to finish those cookies?" he asked with one eyebrow up. Both slices of pizza were gone from his plate, now he seemed to be eyeing her remaining lunch. She must have lost her appetite with all the ghost and possession talk, barely touching her remaining chips and not even thinking about the cookies. Shame too, since her mom went through the trouble to bake them.
Wyborn switch his expression from confusion to worry, but Coraline answer, "I guess I'm just full."
She turned back to their other guest. Alexis was just laying her head on her arms, paying no mind at the two. Coraline thought she was sleeping at first, but notice her shaking somewhat.
"Excuse me? Alexis right?" she called to the girl. Alexis slowly rose her head to meet Coraline's face. Her eyes were bloodshot and bags formed under them. Exhaustion was the first guess, however she must have cried earlier due to how glossy they were. Coraline shifted her gaze to Wyborn, who met hers. He must have thought the same thing
"Y-Yes, that's me," she finally spoke, voice cracking. "Am I bothering you two? Sorry, I'll just move."
As she rose from the table, both Coraline and Wyborn raised their hands in protest. Wyborn spoke, "Whoa, hold on a sec! No one said that you were bothering us! You're fine."
Coraline shook her head in agreement. "Yeah, I was just wondering if you were alright. You don't seem to have your lunch with you, and you don't look too good."
Alexis, noticing what she was implying, quickly reached with her jacket to rub her eyes, only to give a smile as she did. "I-I'm fine. Just forgot my lunch money at home."
The two, again gave a quick look at each other, before back to her. Coraline spoke again. "Have you tried calling home? I'm sure your folks can…"
She stopped when she noticed Alexis turned her head away. The somber look that formed on her face spoke more volumes than the two expected, but she answered, "My parents aren't home. I couldn't contact them."
"Oh." Coraline looked at Wyborn. He had a submissive look on him as he knew what was coming. She grabbed the cookies and slid them to their table guest. Alexis looked at the snack then at one giving them to her.
"Thank you, but I don't-" Alexis started before Coraline raised her hand in protest.
"Don't give me the 'I don't want your pity' speech. I don't want them and I'm not giving them to greedy over here." She felt daggers hitting her face from Wyborn's glare, but continued. "It would be a shame to let them go to waste, so I'm giving them to you."
"Take my word for it," Wyborn added, "Mrs. Jones makes the best cookies. It's not easy to get Jonesy to give just one up, I should know."
Alexis thought about their words and conceded. "Thank you."
Upon opening the wrapper, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. The students began to file out of the cafeteria, Coraline and Wyborn slowly following suit as Alexis ate the cookies that was given to her, visibly cheering up as they walked away.
"Well look at you, 'Coraline Jones! Saving the world one cookie at a time,'" Wyborn teased. "Tune in next time where Jonesy saves people from giant space slugs!"
Coraline could help but laugh at the jib from her friend. "I'm starting to get the feeling that you have a slug obsession, Wybie. Maybe I should get some salt and see if…"
She stops moving and falls silent. Wyborn continues to walk forward before he notice that Coraline froze in place. He sees her face contort from amusement to a mix of anger and, more prominently, fear. He walks up to see if his friend was alright, then he notices the sound. It was inaudible earlier due to clashing sound of leaving classmates, but now it was a bit clearer. Behind his startled friend, Alexis was just sitting there with no interest in returning to class. While she ate the cookies, she was humming a tune to herself. It was a subtle melody that made the once despondent girl brightens up. To Wyborn Lovat, it was an unfamiliar song that was as meaningless as it was soothing.
To Coraline Jones, however, the simple melody was all too familiar, one that she could never forget. Her friend did not know the melody because it was only known to only one other thing other than Coraline. It was a song that no other living person could or should know. There was only one way Alexis could know that song. 'But that's impossible! I locked that door and threw away that key last year! There's no way she could return… There's no way the Beldame could return… There's no way…
'There's no…'
She did not see Wyborn run towards her. She did not feel her legs giveaway under her. The last thing she heard was her friend screaming, calling to her from what feels like miles away. The last thing that entered her mind was a snide whisper, defiling the voice of her mother, doing the same.
Okay, that's todays chapter,
"Not bad if I do say so myself."
It took a little longer to get done, but better late than never, I say! With that vile, disgusting, arrogant, butt licking, smelly old crone off my back, I say that this was pretty enjoyable.
"Uh Scorpion?"
So chapter three will be in the works, and I might upload a chapter of my other project just to give you a taste of what's to come. So stay tuned!
" Hey, Scorpion, he's right here."
This is the Scorpion, signing off.
*Slaps Scorpion* "HEY!"
Ugh, what, DJexe!? And how the hell did you hit me though the internet!?
"Because I'm that good and HE'S RIGHT NEXT TO YOU!"
*Looks and see Crowley next to him* Holy, sh-
I knew I smelled the stench of nerd somewhere around here. Hello boys.
"Tried to warn you, man. Hello, Jackass"
After that mess with some hunters in Georgia, a nice update really settled the old bones. By the way, do I really smell that bad? I wash this meat suit twice a day and use cologne.
Umm… Yes!? :-D
"Real smooth, idiot."
Did you forget that I'm the King of Hell?
That's cool, but I just remembered that I have to get to work, so I'm just going to go ahead and let you enjoy that. *Exits closet*
So, you're out of the closet?
"Technically, you could say he's 'cleaning out his closet'"
Both of you are funny. By the way... *Points up to the closet ceiling*
*Crowley sees a Devil's Trap painted there* Oh, you cheeky little-
That's nice. So, while I go to make this money, you enjoy being 'King of the Closet'
I WON'T FORGET THI- *Door slams shut*
"That was so worth it."
I thought it would be best to come prepared this time. Good job selling it. Anyway, I'll see all of you next time. Question, how long were you going to wait to tell me that Crowley was in there?
"I actually wanted to see if he's really the jackass you've been complaining about and you were right."
See what I have to put up with?
P.S.: Thanks for giving attention to my story and thanks DJexe for his beta work. While you wait for my next upload, why don't you guys share some love to the authors some of my favorite works.