10/13 – Thursday
Evening
Shibuya Central Square

"Sir?" Ren asked. He didn't feel much like throwing questions out there, at least not anything that might result in...he didn't even know. But leaving potential intel on the table was too worrying a prospect to make any other decision. "Would you mind if I asked you about your time in the Diet?"

Yoshida's chuckle caught him off guard. "You've been quiet all evening so far," the man said, giving him a smile. "And it seems there won't be much of an audience to speak to tonight, besides." He gestured towards the nearly empty square, with only a few passersby mulling across the square. "So I'd welcome the conversation."

He nodded. "I mean, I was mostly just like..." He shrugged. "I mean, it's not a sensitive topic or anything? You know, considering."

"Not at all," Yoshida said solemnly. "I don't deny, I carry no shortage of guilt from that part of my life." He adjusted his red and white spotted tie, and it sent a little pang of hesitation into Ren's chest. A little too familiar of a motion to ever simply brush off. "But I owe it to the people of Japan to move forward, without letting that guilt control me. If I never look back at the mistakes I made then, how else am I to learn?"

"Accept your instincts," Ren replied, the words flitting to his tongue before he could stop them. He bit at the inside of his cheek, adjusting the sign in his hands for lack of anything better to do. For whatever reason, even as he now knew the voice behind those words, they still left his mouth oddly bitter.

The man blinked, rubbing his chin, seeming to give an honest bit of thought to the statement. "I have," he said. "My instincts tell me that those who criticize me have something worth saying." A little chuckle escaped Yoshida. "No-Good Tora. Not everyone who uses that epithet has a strong reason for doing so. But the fact it exists in the first place is testament that there was something worth criticizing me for."

Ren shrugged. In Yoshida's case, the man was probably right. But...not every epithet was worth that same consideration.

"Regardless," Yoshida continued. "You had a question for me. Please, ask away."

"Right," Ren said, bracing his next words behind a deep breath, making sure they sounded right in his head. He could feel Morgana nudging into his leg inside the bag by his feet. Okay. "Apparently, the guy running for Prime Minister right now–" And he cut himself off at the man's sudden pulse of tension, the falling of his expression. But Yoshida merely beckoned him to continue with a simple gesture. "I mean, I heard that he...like, he started as a politician around the same time you did. So I was wondering if...if you knew him." He pursed his lips, adjusting the sign so he could reach up and twist a strand of hair between his fingers. "Yeah."

"I see," Yoshida said. He didn't sound angry. More like...sad. "Masayoshi Shido, yes?"

Ren tried not to let the tension, the bitterness, show. "Yep. That's the guy."

"I've met him," the man said, simply. An odd little breath, almost a sigh. "And I wish I could say he's a unique case. Some...single bad apple, not reflective of the crop." Yoshida frowned, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Masayoshi Shido was a good politician." Ren felt his stomach twist. "Perhaps he still is. He is reflective of every value I was taught by Kuramoto, when I joined the Diet."

"A good politician," he echoed, unable to keep the spite from his voice.

"And a vile person," Yoshida said, his tone almost stern, quite effectively replacing Ren's bitterness with curiosity. "Don't mistake my words for praise, Ren."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Kuramoto taught me, and the other so-called Children, a great deal of how he managed to win the hearts of his constituents," the man continued. "And one of the most important was also the simplest. 'Never say what you mean.' It was his golden rule, the one he made clear we were never to break." Yoshida sighed again, shifting the green band that rested across his chest. "We were not to speak from the heart. Nor were we to speak from the hearts of those we represented."

Ren couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "I don't get it. How are you supposed to – I mean, I get that he'd tell you to lie, that makes sense. Uh, no offense."

"None taken," Yoshida chuckled.

"But Diet Members have stuff they want to do, right?" Ren shrugged. "I mean, even if they're shitty things, they still want to do them. So, if they're not supposed to say that they want them, how do they actually get them? Wouldn't they just end up talking in circles forever?"

The man hummed a thought, rubbing his chin again. "Let's say, for example, that I had a desire to fight for the reform of our judicial system. Or perhaps, even more extreme, for prison abolition." Ren's gut lurched at the statement. "Whatever my reasons may be – and I can think of quite a few worth entertaining – it is quite a divisive topic. Even many voters who held my same values might be intimidated by the proposition. If I spoke directly to my constituents, to urge them to support such a campaign, I would lose the votes of those who value a system they are familiar with."

"A broken system," Ren snapped, before he could help himself.

"I don't disagree," Yoshida said, softly. "But my point is not one of morality. It is one of feasibility. And a few strong, passionate voices are not enough to incite political change. If Kuramoto, or one of the other Children, was to pursue something so drastic?" He cleared his throat. "People of Japan!" It wasn't quite as loud as his normal elocution, but the booming quality of his voice still sent a jitter into Ren's sternum. "I entreat you, support my campaign! Support me in fighting to give a voice to the voiceless, and expand voter rights!" He cut himself off with a chuckle. "Or something along those lines."

"Voter rights like what?" Ren asked, trying not to entertain the secondhand shame threatening to burn behind his cheeks. "I don't see what that has to do with prison."

"That's the point, Ren," the man laughed. "One of the few groups for which suffrage is suspended, in Japan at least, are those convicted for imprisonment. Even after they've served their term, their right to vote may still be revoked indefinitely."

Ren felt his breath drop to subzero within his lungs. "That's...not fair," he managed, and the petty, childish words stung at the edges of his eyes.

"It isn't," Yoshida agreed. "And that is why it is something worth fighting for. But as I said, Kuramoto would never agree to fight for it. He would fight for something else, something close to it, make little and publicly agreeable steps towards his goal." He shifted, glancing off towards the square, or maybe past it, something ethereal in the distance. "Masayoshi Shido would not. Not to say that man would ever put his reputation on the line for such a noble cause, but simply that...he has abandoned that principle. Whatever his reasons may be for inciting tyranny, calling to tear away the rights of any he judges dangerous or unworthy, it stands that he has entreated both, and for worse beyond them. Kuramoto would call the strategy political suicide. And yet, Shido remains the nation's favorite to win. He is the frontrunner by a wide margin."

"Ah," Ren said, unable to come up with a single other word to say.

"I don't know what it means about him," Yoshida said. He reached out, gently taking the sign from Ren. "Or about the future of this country, or the future of its politicians. But I can hope, at least, that Shido will fail. If not in election, in office." An odd little spark of anger in the man's eternally calm eyes. "I am counting on it."

Something clicked. A little piece falling into place. "Is that why you're out here?" Ren asked. "You said a few voices aren't enough to make change. So, are you like...trying to change people's hearts, or something? Make more people want to fight so that things can change?"

"Change people's hearts," Yoshida echoed, with an odd little smile. "Interesting choice of words, Ren. Likening me to a Phantom Thief, are you?"

Ren felt himself go slightly pale. "Not on purpose–" he assured, but the man simply burst out laughing.

"I'm teasing you, my boy." He chortled a few moments longer. "I can say this with certainty: if I had the power to change people's hearts, the way they do? I wouldn't be out here."

"I guess not," Ren said, trying to bite back his relief.

"But as for your question," Yoshida said, slipping the green band off his shoulder. "I suppose you are correct. Even if I am never elected again, even if I never make it to another election, then I still can hope for my words to reach someone. Perhaps a voter who might support a noble cause, even if it might intimidate them. Or perhaps even a fledgeling politician, who might fight for something greater than themselves." He winked.

Ren couldn't help but smile. "I told you, sir. I don't know that I want to be a politician."

"Even so," the man laughed. "A good word can travel far, if the right person hears it." Yoshida leaned in, almost conspiratorially. "Do you know who told me that?"

"Kuramoto?" Ren offered.

"My grandchild," Yoshida said. Simple as anything, and yet the smile behind those words was nearly blinding. "And I think they're more right than they know."


10/14 – Friday
After School
Odaiba, Shadow Response Unit Headquarters

Akechi stared down at the white and black checkered board on the table between the two. "Chess," he said, dryly. "You can't be serious."

"Really?" Ren threw a raised eyebrow towards the boy, before focusing once more on arranging the pieces in their proper positions. "Sort of assumed you liked chess. I mean, you're the one who offered it in the first place."

"I adore it," the detective replied, sending a brief glare across the table. "But now hardly seems the time."

"Why not?" Morgana asked, poking his head out of the bag to tilt it at Akechi. "The SRU still hasn't finished talking things out yet. We've got time to kill."

Akechi sighed, running a hand back through his messy hair. "This environment is hardly befitting to a game requiring one's full attention. As if I could put my discomfort aside long enough to–"

"If you don't wanna play, just tell me," Ren said, quick and sharp. "I'm happy to leave you alone, Akechi, if that's what you want. But if you're just trying to one-up me, and you hate the idea of playing chess cause I suggested it, then..." He let out a sharp breath, snapping the black king onto the board. "I'm kinda sick of that shit. At least give me the decency of telling me to fuck off to my face or something, instead of just...doing that."

Akechi didn't say a word for a while, letting the silence linger as Ren clicked piece after piece into its proper spot. "White or black?" he asked, finally.

Ren hesitated for a moment. No, he hadn't misheard him. "Black," he said, finally.

"Hm," Akechi said, humming a single note, almost a laugh. "Are you aware that puts you at a disadvantage?" At Ren's simple shrug, he continued. "White is typically favored to win roughly fifty-five percent of all games. If I remember correctly, at least."

"Five percent isn't that big a deal," Ren replied. "Besides, I like going second. Means I get to react."

"You're an improviser," Akechi said. Something about his voice seemed distant, like he was two steps ahead of the conversation. "And yet you seem to be quite adept at creating plans. You have that playbook, for example." How did he...oh, right. He'd spied on them, it made sense he'd know about stuff like that. "And you managed to come up with the scheme that got me here in the first place." He gestured to the room.

"I mean, none of those plans were all me, though," Ren protested. "It was the Thieves working together, I wouldn't have come up with any of them on my own."

"Akechi's right," Morgana added, sending a little look towards Ren. "You're good at planning stuff."

Akechi raised an eyebrow, before a little cough of laughter escaped him. "Did your...Morgana just agree with me?"

"I'm my own Morgana," the cat replied, haughtily. "Thank you very much."

Ren chuckled. "He did though, I heard him." He shrugged, placing the last pawn on the board and then shifting the board itself until it was equidistant between the two. "I like coming up with plans. It comes easy to me, it's something I'm good at. But it's one thing to try to figure out a plan that could go wrong, and much different trying to figure out a plan that you know someone else is actively gonna try and sabotage."

"And you believe that five percent is worth your peace of mind," Akechi said. Oddly thoughtful, focusing more on the board than Ren himself, even though neither of them had taken a single move.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Akechi nodded, slowly. Then he reached out, fingers lingering on the pawn in front of his king. Then, they shifted over, grasping the pawn in front of his queen instead, shifting it two spaces forward. "Tell me. Are you familiar at all with the term zugzwang?"

Ren couldn't help but chuckle. "Do I look like the kind of guy who would know random...uh, Italian words?"

"German." A distinctly smug aura at the correction.

Ren just nodded, silently studying the board. Hm. Maybe this wasn't the right place to apply the strategy, but it looked like...almost as if the setup for the Burning Cage of Hell might work. Akechi had opened up a diagonal gap right to his king. Maybe Ren could squeeze his bishop in there, put him in an early check. His own fingers hovered over the pawn in front of his king. No, that'd be putting his own king at risk. Playing cautious against someone as vicious as Akechi would probably be the right move.

Ren took hold of the pawn in front of his queenside bishop, shifting it a single space forward. The queen was a valuable piece, sure, but it wouldn't be the end of the world if he had to give it up. And he could probably find a way of making that sacrifice count. "So, what's that whole...zung thing?"

"Zugzwang," Akechi repeated. "Translated: the compulsion to move. It's a state occasionally reached in games like chess, where no move can be made without causing disadvantage to the player making it." He shifted his kingside knight two spaces forward and one toward the center of the board. "As you might be able to imagine, such a thing is more common for the white side in chess, rather than the black."

"Guessing it's less than five percent, though," Ren replied. One last scan of the board to make sure. Okay. And he moved his queen over to the edge of the board. "Check."

Without missing a beat, Akechi immediately shifted his third-to-left pawn forward a single space. Now, a diagonal wall between Ren's queen and his king, each pawn protecting another. It wasn't too much of an unexpected move, but the speed at which he made it...

Ren scowled at the detective. "You baited me."

A little twitch of a smirk, and a silent laugh. "Less than five percent indeed. Still, as one with your particular preference, it's something worth considering."

Ren let frustration yank a sigh out of him, and he snapped his queen's pawn forward two spaces. "Thanks, I guess." An odd half-ring of pawns now surrounded one side of the board. Perfectly symmetrical. Probably didn't have any strategic value, but it was pretty to look at, at least.

"Bitter over some fair trickery?" Akechi said, words flowing together near-melodically. After a moment more hesitation, he slid his queenside bishop over in front of his knight. Threatening Ren's own knight.

Hm. It'd be irritating to lose the piece, but he could accept trading his knight for a bishop. And Akechi couldn't try anything sneaky to take the queen without losing the bishop for nothing. Advancing his own strategy would do Ren better. So he echoed Akechi's move, moving his own queenside bishop to position it next to the detective's. Threatening his knight, and at the perfect angle to pressure his queen or cut off his king, should the opportunity arise.

Akechi raised an eyebrow. "Quite the odd dance we're conducting." Without another word, he hopped his knight over both bishops and towards the farther edge of the board.

"I'm not trying to copy you," Ren chuckled. "It's just working out like that." Oh. Interesting. He could see the barest hint of a new wrinkle, a potential wrench to throw Akechi's way. Maybe it wouldn't do much, but it felt...it felt fun. And the thought surprised him almost as much as the play itself.

"Perhaps I should ask Mitsuru to bring me a chess clock," Akechi said – dry, but still playful, somehow.

"Ha ha," Ren fired back. Yeah, fuck it. He moved his queen a single space towards the center of the board. Aiming right for the pawn at the base of Akechi's diagonal wall, where it could threaten the detective's entire back line at his own leisure. "You're the worse procrastinator out of the two of us, though."

Akechi rolled a long hum across the back of his throat. "And yet," he said, each word quick and overenunciated. "I seem to keep winning." And he advanced his second-to-left pawn a single space forward.

And it clicked. The pawns around the side of the board. It wasn't a ring. It was a cage. His queen was trapped against the side of the board, helpless to make even a single move towards Akechi's open left side without having to waste at least a turn extracting the piece, weakening his own defenses in the process. Ren hadn't just walked right into it, he had helped build it. And he had shut the door behind himself.

"You're wrong, I'm...I'm not some fucking victim. I was in control!"

Akechi's shout still echoed across the back of his eardrums. Ren swallowed, shaking away the memory. "So you do," he said, simply. "So you do."


██████
Evening
█████'s Room

"So what's this game about?" the Trickster asked, shifting with on his sister's bed. The feeling of unending discomfort had been following him recently, even in the safest places. Even where he thought he belonged.

The girl gave a smile, something distant in her eyes as she held the controller. "It's weird. Kinda like a bullethell mixed with an RPG, I guess." She tilted her head back to look at him. "Do you know what either of those are?"

The Trickster chuckled. "Hey, c'mon. I'm not that out of the loop." He reached up, absently twisting a lock of hair between his fingers, just to have something to do. He didn't want his hands to still, his fingers to go cold. "So it's fun?"

The girl giggled, setting the controller down to run a hand through her long hair, wiggling away the stray strands that came off on her fingers. "Something the matter, bro? Usually even when you're forcing conversation it doesn't sound that awkward." She gave him a teasing smile, but there was a gentleness behind her eyes, a softness in her expression. Genuine, passionate concern masked with humor. That was his sister, all right.

The Trickster laughed, leaning back a bit on the bed. "Yeah, guess you caught me. I just...can't stop thinking about what's coming up, I guess. I wanna make sure you and everyone else is okay, too." He hesitated. "I mean...I wanna take down ████ as bad as everyone else, of course I do. But I just...I dunno if it's fair, to make you face all that. To make everyone face all that."

Her expression tensed, face scrunching up in an odd tension. "███," she said. "Dude." She shook her head, sighing. "There's nothing I want more than to kick that guy's ass. I wanna see him, see the guy who ruined my life and my mom's life, and I…" she sighed again, a frustrated expression. "I know. I know why you're worried." And she looked back at the screen, watching the pixels onscreen. A vibrant, colorful town area, from the looks of it. A snowy village, characters dotted in blues, yellows and reds against the white snow. And she smiled softly. "I'm happy that I've got you looking out for me and being concerned. I am. But I'll be okay."

A sinking feeling stalled in the Trickster's throat, and panic jumped out through his vocal chords. "It's not because I don't trust you," he said quickly. "Or I don't think you can handle it, or that you can't and I can, or anything like that. I know you're strong, stronger than I am, I just…" he sighed again, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, holding his head up in his hands. "I don't want to do something bad to you."

There was a terrible silence between them for awhile, a tension that almost broke the Trickster's heart. Did he say something wrong? Did he throw his faith in her into doubt, somehow? He might not have said what he meant, he might have…

"Bro," she mumbled. Her voice was quiet, but firm. "I get it. I really do." A little smile on her face, faint and distant. "I've got trauma, and anxiety, and I get really worked up whenever we talk about ████ because I just...think about how he hurt my mom and I get so angry. And the thought that he could end up getting elected and making policy just…" she shook her head. "It drives me nuts. It makes me angry, and I don't like to be angry, it doesn't feel good." And she looked at him, a patient little smile. "And you know that. And you can see how uncomfortable it is for me. That's considerate of you, ███, it really is. It's super cool big brother behavior. And I'm not upset with you for it." She nodded, her smile becoming a determined expression. "But I wanna ask you to have faith in me, too. Faith in me as the Navigator for the Phantom Thieves, as a member you can rely on. I want you to have faith that when stuff gets tough, you can trust me to handle it. That I can deal with the hard parts, too. Because I promise I can."

The Trickster nodded, swallowing the discomfort as best he could. "Yeah, I...I know. I'm sorry. I guess...I want to protect everybody on the team, not just you, but I get ahead of myself sometimes and that's...that's not fair. I know. I'm sorry about that." He nodded. Baby steps, pushing down the anxiety to address the issue and fix it. That's what a good leader, a good friend, a good big brother did. He'd spent the past year hiding things from his friends because he thought that was what it meant to protect them. All it got him was losses, pain and bitterness. It wasn't fair for him to play the arbiter. It wasn't right that he got to decide who knew what, who could handle what. And the last person he wanted to betray in that way was his sister.

"I love you, bro," she said quietly. "And I know why you do it. And I know how you feel. I know you realize it's not fair to us, but it's...also not fair to you. To have to bear the burden of that all on your own." She smiled. "You can rely on us, ███. You can count on us to cover your back. You don't have to tackle everybody's problems." A moment of quiet lingered between them, a silent tension that felt somehow easier to stew in. "You've got just as much trauma around that creep as I do, maybe even more. You've got every right to be uncomfortable going to face him, even if you want to stop him."

The Trickster paused. It occurred to him then, as it had before, just how intense that trauma still was. His right hand flew to his left wrist, and he took a deep breath. Practicing the breathing techniques his therapist had taught him. In and out slowly. It was like this whenever he thought of ████, every time a memory of that night struck or whenever his various speeches were broadcast on TV. A wave of panic, anger and fear swirling and whirlwinding within him. It hurt, but it motivated him just as much. It must have been the same way for his sister, he figured. He didn't wish this feeling on anyone, especially anyone he cared about that much, but...he couldn't deny, he supposed, that she felt it. And if she felt the same as him, he owed it to her to get that chance too.

"Do you think it'll get easier when it's over?" she asked, her face turned back away, absently moving her character around the screen, refusing to settle in any one spot, flinging herself from NPC to NPC and in and out of the shop. "Like. Once his heart is changed, we'll be able to think about him without...you know?"

The Trickster paused, trying to consider it. He hadn't really visualized it, the thought of the man who'd done so much evil and caused so much suffering suddenly changed overnight like all their other targets. Repenting for his actions and apologizing to everyone he'd wronged. It seemed almost impossible for the man. "I don't know," he admitted. "I can't even imagine it, really." He paused, interlocking his fingers. "I think it's more important to stop him from hurting people right now, but I guess...eventually, we'll have to address it, huh? The effects he had on us won't just go away because he changed."

"Yeah," the girl agreed. And a pause. "Y'know, bro...I agree with you when you say nobody should go to jail. I don't think anybody deserves to go through that. And it's really easy to feel that way, almost all the time." And she looked at him, perhaps a double-check to ensure he was comfortable with the topic. He nodded. "But sometimes...I just can't feel the same way about ████." She sighed, her face contorting into something sad and frustrated. "I don't wanna be angry forever. I hate feeling this way, being angry like this." And her eyes opened, sharper than ever. "But I do. I hate him. And I just...want to see him punished. I want him to be hurt for what he did to my mom. I want him to have to feel the same pain she did." And she looked at him, a little sheepish. "Is that...wrong?"

The Trickster shook his head. "I think it's human. You said the same thing when you joined the Thieves, after all."

She nodded, giving another meek smile, the sharpness of her eyes not fading. "I know," she mumbled. "But it feels bad to think like that. I should care about preventing him from doing harm, not...punishing him to make myself feel better."

"You do whatever you need to to heal," the Trickster interjected, his voice quick on reflex. "He took something super important from you. It's okay to be mad. It's normal. It would be more worrying if you could just forgive him, honestly." A little chuckle. "I know I can't just forgive him."

The girl nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. She looked back at the screen. "In this game," she started. "You can beat every enemy without hurting them. It's kinda nice, because no one in this game is actually that mean. Even the bad guys are pretty good deep down." She tilted her head from left to right, an idle motion. "I guess I like the thought of that, but it's kinda silly. Kinda...idealistic, I guess." She sighed, humming a little tune to herself. "At the end of the day, I wanna get back at the guy who hurt my mom. Even if it's not the way the Thieves do things, or it's not right, at the end of the day I want...I guess I want something. Some vindication, or some relief. Some, uh...catharsis."

The Trickster nodded. "I definitely understand that. After everything he did to all of us, it's only natural." A momentary pause as he searched for his words. "And it doesn't have to be against the way the Thieves operate, if that makes you uncomfortable. At the end of the day, just because we haven't caused any mental shutdowns...doesn't necessarily mean we can't. If we decide it's what we all want to do…"

She let out a long hum, a single note, like a TV set to color bars. "I don't think that's it," she finally said. "I think it's not about the Thieves' ethics. It's more about...how personal it is for me."

"I getcha," the Trickster said. "I guess it's the same way for me. I don't wanna bend the Thieves' hands just because of how I feel. But it's...nice I guess, to know I'm not alone in feeling that way."

"Yeah," she said with a chuckle. "We're two of a kind, I guess." And then there was another silence, this time lingering for a time before she spoke up again. "I don't like that plan, you know."

The Trickster forced a chuckle. "I know," he said. "No one does."

"You're my brother," she reiterated. "I already had to see ████ hurt enough people. I don't want to watch him hurt you, too. See him do the same thing to you that he did to my mom. I don't want him to get to keep hurting people."

And there was silence. What could he say? She was right. It wasn't fair to her, and it wasn't fair to his Sun and his Moon, and it wasn't fair to the other Thieves. It wasn't fair to any of them. And on some level he was aware that it wasn't fair to him, either. But he kept himself on course. It was what needed to be done, the only option. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. It sounded pathetic in his ears, but it was the only thing he could say.

"So I'm gonna have to watch him hurt someone I care about again," the girl said plainly. "I just...have to let him hurt my family again."

"I'm sorry," the Trickster repeated.

The girl looked back at him, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "Stop apologizing," she said. "For once, stop taking the blame when you get hurt too. At the very least, you have to admit this isn't fair. You have to be willing to admit that it isn't fair he gets to hurt you again. It isn't right."

The Trickster swallowed the anxiety forming a knot in his throat and nodded. "It isn't," he agreed. "It isn't fair."

And then there was silence, nothing but the faint music of the girl's game. It was pleasant, calming and quaint.

"I'm going to kill him," she said, quietly enough that the Trickster could barely hear it. "I'm going to kill him."


I'd like to give the world's biggest 'thank you' to Jane for her patience with this chapter, her emotional support during this week and for writing this chapter's redacted scene. I couldn't do this story without her, and I'm infinitely, eternally grateful for how much love and work and dedication she's put into this story.

I'd also like to give a brief shoutout to Ian Danskin's Alt Right Playbook: The Death of a Euphemism for inspiring a good chunk of the talking points in the Yoshida scene. He's a great video essayist and I highly recommend taking a look at both the Playbook videos themselves and "Why Are You So Angry," a 6 part video essay series about Gamergate. Definitely mind the content warnings though, some of them contain some very intense subject matter.