Life on the Rim

Started by A Friend, June 28, 2015, 07:15:49 AM

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A Friend

(I bit NSFW with the language)

I made a story about my very first colony in A7 and Rimwrold, and how it hooked me in. A story that follows Bennett McNegative, Space Marine Grim, Sverin, and Mosley the Cowardly Pirate.
Part 1:

"Hey, Bennett." A large man with a rifle resting on his shoulders called out to me, it was Grim.


"Finished those turrets yet? Those Hatchet scums might want their friend back."

"Heh... most of the turrets are pretty much done and I've already set up the sandbags. So just let them try." I smugly answered.

"Right. Anyways, Mosley seems desperate to get out of that cave..." Grim pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Said he wants to help out."

"He can help out by rotting in that hole. Why the hell are we keeping him around anyways?"

"You know, we can't last all by ourselves here. We need more hands." Grim gave his response. "I'll ask Sverin for his opinion."

"Also kidneys, hearts, lungs, eyes, and oh yeah legs too." I thought to myself. Missed an opportunity with last week's trader.

"Hey. Also ask him how many units of steel we have left while you're at it." came out of my mouth instead.

Grim went on inside. I was left alone sitting on one of the sandbags. Staring at the sunset.

This was pretty much how it went on every day for us. Looking at the inevitable future and preparing for it. It's been a few weeks since we first set foot here...
Ah, remembering when it happened. How can one forget such warm and happy memories?

Earth-Class June 9, 5500. The Class-B Planetary Liner we were onboard on was on its merry way out of this system, cheerfully moving at the slowest speed imaginable. Then it happened to pass by this Rimworld, intending to smell some muffalos on the way home. All was dandy n' fine...

Then it diddly-doo-fucking happened.
Without warning, a barrage of railgun shots resembling massive bricks of plasteel erupted from the Rimworld. Their destination: Our fucking ship. Hull integrity and oxygen levels went plummeting, and holes man... holes.

"Alert, alert, situation critical." the AI's feminine voice boomed the speakers.
"This is not a drill; please calmly head over to the escape arm for access to escape pods. This is not a drill."

Screams, explosions and metal chunks ripping assailed my ears from multiple directions. I was working in the Engineering Section; not even the loud humming of the reactor could drown the sounds of suffering.

"Fuck this, I'm out of here." I sprinted towards the Escape Arm just a few walks down.





The Battery room was hit.

The wide hallway went dark as *WEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNGGGGGGGGG* filled the air, the emergency siren repeatedly gave out the ship's dying cry. I slowed down and used my hands to navigate through the dark, careful not to trip on anything. Upon reaching the end of the hallway, the red backup lights turned on, illuminating the words that read "Escape Arm".

The white airlock doors flung open, revealing a long wide hallway with steel pods lining both sides. Surprisingly, very few drop pods were taken, and there weren't that many people around. Guess not everyone's that lucky. I shrugged off the thought and wasted no time entering a pod. Inside were the standard survival necessities:
-   A knife.
-   10 Packs of cardboard flavored shit.
-   A handful of silver scraps.
-   5 Medkits

After quickly looking over the contents, I strapped in, locked the pod doors and prepared myself. As soon as the doors were closed, silence reigned.

Then I went over the control screen located on the door...

.Situation critical; unlocking pod controls.

The green text illuminated the inside of the pod. A vein popped in my head.

"What. The. Hell... nearly 3000 years of space faring and we still use these old pieces of shit? "

"Who fucking made these? Tribals? Jesus christ... at least insert in a voice module."
Having been raised on a pretty technologically advanced Midworld, I had the right to complain.

.Status: Occupied.
.Problems: None found.
.Systems: Stable.
.Awaiting launch order...
.Launch sequence initiated.
.Coordinates locked...
.Dampening thrusters engaged...
.Land unsuccessful.

.Status: Occupied.
.Problems: Angular error detected.
.Systems: Stable.
.Outside conditions: Habitable.
.Relative angle: 34°.

What would have been a pretty intense "crash" landing in theory is basically as remarkable as taking a dump while reading holo-news.

I released the lock on the door. I was greeted by the scene of the starry evening sky, multiple pods entering the atmosphere like a fiery orb and the flaming remains of our ship slowly meeting its demise. I would say it was a pretty beautiful moment if you don't include the dozens of people dead and the fact that you're pretty much fucked as well. But thank god it wasn't headed were I was so I could at least enjoy the view.

I climbed out to see other two other pods softly landing a few meters away. I quickly went over to the closest pod. The pod doors opened and I lent my hand to the occupant.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Uh... t-thanks. I'm fine." The man hesitantly answered.

I helped him out of his pod. I noticed at the corner of my eye that the other person got out of his as well. His silhouette was waving at us. He calmly walked towards us, rifle in hand. As he got nearer, it looks like he was getting bigger as well.

"So... guess I'm stuck with you guys, eh." He cracked a smile.

"Looks like it. W-who are you anyways?" I asked nervously. Hell, he was holding a gun!

"Ah, can't disclose that, bud. But I'm called Grim. I'm just an off-duty marine. Or at least was..."
Wow, intimidating and charismatic.

"What about you two?"

"I'm Carl Bennett, an engineer."

"I-I'm Sverin P-Pendersen, I'm a h-human activist, sir." The man next to me nervously answered.
I'm not into social crap so what the heck is a human activist? You know what; I don't even want to know.

"Bennet and Sverin, huh... alright." Grim nodded in acknowledgement.

"So folks, what now? Mr. Bennett, any ideas?"

"What, why me suddenly?"
Grim and Sverin ignored my question and looked at me for an answer.

"Fuck me." I groaned and went to my pod and grabbed one of the pamphlets inside.

Being Left to Die for Beginners 101
    1.     Find Shelter.

...And that's how this cheap knockoff of a shack started.
How it progressed however, is another story.
"For you, the day Randy graced your colony with a game-ending raid was the most memorable part of your game. But for Cassandra, it was Tuesday"

Squiggly lines you call drawings aka "My Deviantart page"


I'm an Electrical and Electronic Engineering student in university in New Zealand.

I like games, but unfortunately they don't help me get a degree.. so I'm going to be inactive for awhile.
- 22 July 2015

A Friend

Upon further memory jogging, I remembered that this isn't actually from A8 but rather A7 I think. Eh.
I included bits of references in this one.
Will change the title to something else a bit more catchy.

Part 2:

Author: Carl T. Bennett
Journal Log no:  1
Date: Earth-Class June 13, 5500 / Approximately two weeks ago

In Old Earth, when people thought of space, these thoughts are often accompanied by futuristic space ships capable of traveling faster than light and massive empires. Giant banana-shaped ships capable of zipping across galaxies at the blink of an eye. Factions duking it out for resources and planets... pew pew pew.


That's quite the imaginative mind they had back then.

Humanity tried but couldn't beat light, despite all their advancement in technology. They gave up on beating light and instead invented the process known as longsleep. Otherwise known as cryostasis or cryosleep, its job was to preserve life until a ship reaches its destination. It took decades to reach the nearest system and hundreds for the ones that contain habitable planets.

As humanity continued its expansion among the stars, the worlds were mostly left to their own devices. Communication and interstellar civilizations only existed within systems with multiple colonized worlds and close neighboring stars. Those alone within a system advanced and regressed at their own pace.

Our people judged worlds by their technology and what social conditions that they possess.
Glitterworlds, Urbworlds, Hive Worlds, Cave Worlds, Midworlds, Whatever-worlds.
These worlds are distinct and very different from one another. Separated by the vast coldness of space...

But Rimworlds don't give a damn about that techno-superiority bullshit.

Located on the farthest fringe of explored space are Rimworlds; hostile and brutal worlds where everything's out to kill you no matter how fucking advanced your glittershoes are. Rimworlds don't have discrimination, everyone is equal before the Rim...

Rimworlds fuck everyone equally.

From the incredibly short day/night cycle span, extreme temperatures,  weaponized organisms, mechanoid hives, and spooky whispers behind your head. Rimworlds have plenty of these. Truly a wonderful place for a vacation.

Despite this, these worlds are a magnet for humans from all kinds of life. Midworld chefs, Urbworld sumbags, Medieval knights, Cave World tunnelers, Tribal folks and Vatgrowns. They can all be found here.

From the famous phrase of a beloved Old Earth classic:

"Gotta catch 'em all!"

Anyways, we're a part of that collection now. We now live our lives on the Rim.

God help us.

.End Log

I turned off the hologram device and stretched my arms accompanied by a yawn. Then I went outside of my room and into the narrow hallway. I took the path that lead outside.

I opened the door and my face was met with by the bright sunlight.
The smiling sunshine, eh? You glowy yellow bastard. You're enjoying this, aren't you?
I rubbed my eyes and regained my vision. Sverin was in front of me doing plant work.

"Sverin, it seems your growing shrooms again."

"It's called Devilstrand. Please refer to it by its name. You uncultured swine." He seemed to have muttered something at the end there, I didn't quite hear it.

"I don't care, just please don't put them in our soups again. Please."

Thinking of last week's "vegetable" soup made me cringe.

"You know, this stuff is actually good for you. Nutrients and all that."

I let out a small sigh.

"Please, just... don't." I walked away. My PTSD of last week's "Sverin Special" was growing stronger.

Looking around, I noticed Grim was nowhere to be seen, probably "wardening" Mosley. Improperly I might add. I prefer it if he did it more with his fists. For a guy named "Grim" he was pretty nice.
I headed over to the Dining Room to the west and took a seat. I laid out my blueprints on the table and checked what's left to be done.

To someone from the "Modern Era", the speed and quality at which we completed constructions over such a small time-frame would be considered magical and unrealistic. But for us, it was standard everyday work. Space workers were equipped with tools called RCDs built from a nearby Glitterworld. Rapid Construction Devices.

It's a small gun-shaped object with an array of functions capable of completing any task with ease. It can function as a nail gun, a welder, a laser cutter, etc. The most impressive for me is the Kinetic function. It emits a small kinetic field around objects, allowing us to haul ludicrous amount of materials with no effort being made at all.
Man, I love technology. Dirty hammer peasants go home.


Looking at the plans, everything seems to be in place already. Defensive walls are made, turrets installed, rooms are mined, bla bla bla.
I went to the freezer and took out a simple meal. It's been pretty uneventful lately. I don't know whether to be glad of that or be bored to tears.

Well yeah, some things did happen. We actually got visits from a nearby settlement. Good but weary people. They called themselves people from "Doc's Town". Someone had ego problems. They showed us bits of information about the land and dangers they also encounter here. Namely, mechanoids.

Also there's the Brown Lax Tribe. Jesus fuckin' christ... What the hell is wrong with the naming abilities of these people. Anyways, they were pretty chillax despite being incomprehensible tribe people.

"For you, the day Randy graced your colony with a game-ending raid was the most memorable part of your game. But for Cassandra, it was Tuesday"

Squiggly lines you call drawings aka "My Deviantart page"

Mechanoid Hivemind

The individual is obsolete. When you and your kind are extinct, we will cleanse our collective memory of the stain of your existence.

A Friend

Yeah, there'll be more.  ;)

I already planned out how it will go for the next few parts.
"For you, the day Randy graced your colony with a game-ending raid was the most memorable part of your game. But for Cassandra, it was Tuesday"

Squiggly lines you call drawings aka "My Deviantart page"


I'm an Electrical and Electronic Engineering student in university in New Zealand.

I like games, but unfortunately they don't help me get a degree.. so I'm going to be inactive for awhile.
- 22 July 2015

A Friend

(Edit: Woah, there's alot of missing words and grammatical errors, Fixed it tho')
(Edit 2: Actually there's still a bunch of them. Damn.)

Part 3:

I played around with my meal. Creating a tower out of the potato slices and succumbed to a deep thought while doing so.

Right now, you know what's everywhere? Humans.

You know what else? Death.

Human beings are hardy creatures capable of adapting to nearly any environment. They have the unparalleled ability to live. Yet they cannot avoid death. Though there are those who successfully have... but we don't consider them humans anymore.

I shudder to think of "them" further.

Anyways, on the topic of death.

It's inevitable. At some point in your life, you will die. It can be from natural causes or things outside your control. Actually, death is always outside of one's control. Suicide? Whatever pushed you far enough to even go with those thoughts have already killed you. You don't decide when you will die. But others can.

When I said that "they cannot avoid death", it also meant they can't avoid causing it. In these worlds... you live by from the death of another. Damn I sound smart and philosophical ...heh

But what we faced about five days ago was not death. Nor was it even human since they're definitely smarter than that.

No... what it was...

It was a fucking joke.


I woke up to the sight of the light blue sky. The sun was at the corner, hiding half of itself behind the rock we were taking shelter in. As usual, its light burned my eyes. You glowy yellow bastard. Just you fucking wait, I'm gonna cover that smug face of yours with a metal roof.

Looking around, Sverin and Grim already seems to have gotten up before me. Sverin was chopping what looks like potatoes and some berries by the improvised stove beside the dispenser.  I got up and began equipping my working tools. I talked to him while doing so.

"I didn't know you could cook."

"Huh? Oh Bennett, so that's why the snoring stopped."

Wait, what.

"We just didn't really have the equipment back then. But now that we have power and stuff, I thought we could eat something other than green paste and space meals."

"Good thinking.  And so ends the era of having cardboard meals and green shit for dinner. Good job Sverin." I gave him a nod and a thumbs up.

"Hahahaha." He let out a small chuckle. "Good one and thanks. But I'm not really a professional at this. I'm just following a guide book."

"Well, I'll be the judge of that lat- wait." Something caught my attention. I focused at the red fluffly thing he held. "The heck is that thing?" I lazily pointed my finger.

"Oh uh... remember those tribe people? One of them gave me this. They called it a erm... uh..." Sverin held his index finger up while his eyes narrowly stared at the ceiling, seeking for the answer.

"Dev... Devils- Oh!" He lightly slammed his other hand with the bottom of the one holding the shroom, jackpot style.

"They called it Devilstrand."

"Devilstrand? From those loincloth men? Oh god." I made a worried look.

"Wow, that's a bit racist. I cleaned it up, ok. No need to worry!"

"If you say so... Fine I'll see how this Voodoostrand tastes later." I reluctantly gave my decision. A decision that I would greatly regret in the following nights. It haunts my stomach up to this day. If only my knowledge about history included plants... I have strayed from God's light. No god would have allowed such suffering be inflicted upon any mortal being.

"Devilstrand." Sverin corrected me with an annoyed tone.

"Whatever... anyways, where's Grim?"

"I think he went outside, said he wanted to provide more suitable ingredients for my cooking."

In other words, Grim went hunting. He had clearly foreseen the dark future that is "Sverin Special". But his efforts went to waste as Sverin still preferred to use the Vodoostrand on that day.

"Ok, I'll finish up work then."

I strapped my boots on and headed to the outside walls. There were trees as far as the eye could see.
Hands on my waists, I took a deep breath and exhaled. HELLOOOOoooooooooooo NATURE!
Then sluggishly made my way to the left, I approached a small boxy object covered with a waterproof blanket. It was an Auto-Turret prototype. Bootleg edition. 10/10 Best edition.

The schematic for the turret was shared with me by the Doc's Town visitors. Its simplicity made it easy to make and maintain. They clearly knew the dangers of this land and did not hesitate to share their defensive secrets with helpless outsiders. Good people.

I flicked down my goggles and began construction work.

I listened to the surrounding noise that composed of rustling trees, moo-ing muffalo herds, and the occasional "Work you piece of fucking shit..."

But even with all that noise, I heard a branch snap from behind me.


I stood up from my hunched position and turned around. A few meters away from me were three young looking men carrying an assortment of improvised weaponry. What caught my eye was the one in the middle. Someone that looked like a descendent of the past "African-American" race used back in Old Earth.

Most noticeable difference was that he was carrying a shotgun. He held it in one hand while it rested on his shoulder. He also had decent clothing compared to the two besides him. He was wearing a yellow cloth shirt. Covering it was a red leather jacket with a bullet hole and dried blood on the shoulder part. Due to him looking pretty fine, I doubt he was the original wearer. On his legs, he wore a beige khaki with mud stains on the hem accompanied by brown leather shoes.

Another noticeable part is his cowboy hat, which did no justice hiding his smug-looking ass of a face. His expression greatly annoyed me. Before I got pissed-off by his face further, he opened his mouth. His gaze focused on me.

"Oi, you there!"

I squinted at him with a slightly annoyed expression.

"..." The fuck do you want, asshole?

"Watcha' workin' on mate?" He tilted his head to the side.

"..." Go away.

"One of em' quiet ones eh? Heheh, right. Got it."

"..." Go the fuck away already.

"So... what you've been livin' in right there is part of my Corporation's property" He one-handedly pointed his shotgun at our shack. Not removing his gaze from mine

"..." You obnoxious piece of shit...

"Oi! You hearin' me mate? It's my fucking property. There's even my mark as proof" He pounded at his chest.

"What mark? I don't see it." I gave a response with my anger held back.

The man properly held his shotgun and cocked it. Then he proceeded to fire a single shoot.



I looked to where he aimed.

Bullet holes formed at the wall besides our entrance door. That was actually a bit scary.

"There's my mark. This is property of The Hatchet of Donkeys now, mate." He snorted and cracked a smug smile


"The Hatchet of Donkeys" this word echoed in my ears.

Never in my life had I encountered a name so abysmal that I actually felt sad for such a shitty person. What's worse is that he stated that with pride. H-how can you create a name so humiliating and proudly fly it as your banner? Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

While I was busy cringing to another dimension, Sverin went out to inspect the noise.

"Bennett? What's going on h-" His eyes came upon the Donkey group.

The shotgun donkey noticed Sverin and spoke.

"Oi, who's this? Your girlfriend?" He looked at me with this disgusting smile.

He looked again at Sverin  and said "Hey baby, just havin' a little talk here with your friend. We'll bang later, ok?" He did this vulgar little dance.

Everyone aside from the shotgun donkey had a confused and shocked look. Sverin froze and turned pale.
The atmosphere went silent and uneasy.

What... the fuck. I know Sverin is quite young and good looking with his short blonde hair and such but he was clearly a guy. It wasn't even dark yet. It was around afternoon. Holy shit.

The man to his left leaned closer to shotgun donkey's side and then spoke in a quiet voice

"Psst, Mosley... Err ... that's a... uh..." he hesitantly said.

So this clown's name is Mosley huh?

"What?" Mosley quietly responded with an annoyed tone.

"That's a guy." The man to his right nonchalantly stated.

"You trippin' balls? Looks like a girl to me."

As their quiet ramblings went inaudible, I noticed something in the distance.

A large man rifle in-hand and with a dead hog tied to his back. It was Grim. He carefully maneuvered around the trees and took cover behind some rock boulders. Once comfortable, he noticed me looking at him and he nodded in acknowledgement.

He pointed at some bushes and walls then held up a number of fingers at me. Think he was saying there's more of these douchebags lurking around. From his hands:
-   3 behind bushes to the east.
-   2 behind some walls to the west.

I confirmed by nodding. Then he made this weird stabbing motion I didn't really understand. After that, he lied low.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Mosley the Donkey angrily silenced his companions.

"We're here for business not gender debate!"

"Here's the cheese. Cough up silver or you be coughin' blood in the next few seconds." He pointed his dirty fingers at me.

"Ooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh, tough guy! I'm like totally pissing my pants right now!" I used the most sarcastic tone in my arsenal while I flapped my hands around in a girly way.

Clearly pissed, he barked "You kno' what? Fuck it, we're gonna take yo' insides instead. They be quite the silver on the market." He said with this evil grin.

Fuck this, I'm done listening to this shit stain.

I calmly went behind the turret I was standing in front of and flicked a switch.
With a disrespectful tone, I stated "Oh I'm terribly sorry; you see we don't really have much silver to give here... BUT!" I held my index finger up like I was going to follow up with BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!

"What we do have is a bunch of lead."

"Here, have some." I banged the top of the turret with my clenched fist.


Green light came from beneath the blanket. Then suddenly...

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWW" A cheerful song resembling country music began playing. I used parts from the wonky drop pods we landed with. I must have unknowingly installed circuits of the radio section.

"What the fuck?" The three men were baffled and confused.

The turret turned at them and three loud *TSHCCKK* gunshots rang in rapid succession. The blanket covering the turret was ripped apart, forming giant bullet holes where the muzzle of the turret should be.

The man closest to the turret received all three shots to his chest. He stumbled backwards and lay dead on the ground.


Before the Turret could fire again, the two men quickly took cover from behind some rock chunks. Sverin went back inside to avoid the firefight.

"Ya' got turrets as well eh? Fuckin' Docshits sharin' their damn defenses." Mosley angrily said while firing his shotgun at the turret. I took cover behind a chunk, repairing the turret with my RCD.

Gunshots we're exchanged from their position and mine.

"Doyle! Brent! CJ! Get em!" Upon saying those, three men wielding an assortment of makeshift weapons emerged from the bushes. Yelling, they charged towards me.

The country music inappropriately played on as the turret effortlessly cuts down the approaching raiders.



Two of them stopped dead in their tracks but the last one managed to close in. He kicked the turret mount to the side before it could fire a shot. His feet firmly in place prevents the turret from aiming.

Oh fuck.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!" His arm held high, tightly gripping a machete. He prepares to strike me down.


*BANGGGGGGGggggggg...* A loud sound came from the distance.

His machete fell to the ground and he held his bleeding hand in agony. I took my chance and used my RCD's nail gun function as an improvised pistol. I scored two direct hits to his throat.

Hands on his throat, he staggered back. The turret "YEEEEEEEHAAAWWWW"s and promptly finishes him off.

"The hell? More of ya' eh? Jim, Darren, flush him out! Frank, push this rock closer." Mosley barked. Two more of them came out from behind a wall, headed for Grim's position. Meanwhile I could see a piece of granite inching closer to the turret, deflecting its shots.

Grim shoots one of them dead and forces the other to take cover from a tree. Mosley focuses his fire on Grim. *BOOM* *SHCK-SCHK* *BOOM*


Jimbo tries charging again. Suddenly, the carcass of a hog flew right into Jungle Jim's face knocking him down into the ground. Grim shows up again and takes shots at Mosley.


"Shit...!" Mosley is forced to stay down.


Grim refocused his aim behind the rock that was inching close to me.


"OH MY LEG!" The man screamed and then flops to the side, appearing in plain view.

*BEEP* the turret aims at his face.

The man desperately tries to plead to the turret with his hands stretched out. "H-HEY HEYEYYEY NO NO NOOOO-"

*TSHCKK* *TSHCKK* *TSHCKK* quickly cut off his words and three holes formed at his face. Franky Frank was no more.

"Damnit! Fuck, I'm out here!" Mosley sprinted away with the turret's aim giving chase.
Meanwhile, Jumbo Jim woke up just to be executed at point blank with Grim's rifle.


He holstered his rifle and ran towards Mosley. Smoothly grabbing Jim's dropped steel club on the way. He quickly closes in on his prey.

I also gave chase. They went out of sight from behind some walls. Before I could catch sight of them, I heard a loud sound followed by voices.



"YOU ASSH- Hey now... H-HEY W-WAIT!! JUST H-HOLD ON THERE!" I could hear his trembling voice.

I reached the end of the wall and I had a clear look of the situation. The music emanating from the turret became silent. Allowing me to fearfully observe what's in front of me.

Mosley, absolutely terrified, laid on his back attempting to slowly crawl away from the large shadow on top of him. The setting sun and his position amplified the large man's silhouette.

With his back against the light, the large man wore an indifferent and cold expression. He radiated off a terrifying aura. His eyes were fixed on his prey. He cocked the shotgun he held. His name fitting him perfectly, Grim stood in front of Mosley.

"P-PLEASE MAN, DON-" Mosley attempted to beg only to be cut off by Grim's words.

"You're part of our property now. Here's my mark." He aimed down.


Momentarily, the world went silent.
"For you, the day Randy graced your colony with a game-ending raid was the most memorable part of your game. But for Cassandra, it was Tuesday"

Squiggly lines you call drawings aka "My Deviantart page"

Mechanoid Hivemind

More more more more!!!!!!
The individual is obsolete. When you and your kind are extinct, we will cleanse our collective memory of the stain of your existence.

A Friend

(Sorry if this took quite long. Might be nearing the end of our little story soon. Emphasis on "might")
Part 4:

The rustling trees came to a halt. The chirping birds disappeared. Even my breath was inaudible.
All was overwhelmed by the loud explosion of the shotgun...


Before I continue, let me ask a question. Do you like jams? I certainly do! What are jams you say? Well, jams are those sticky, gooey stuffs they spread around on bread. My favorite type is the strawberry variant. Mhhmmmmm – hmmmm... red strawberry jams. Red... gooey shit... spread... Yum. Im sure we all have at some point in time dropped a glass of jam on the floor. Right? Guys? Well you know how it is. When it happens, it just makes a pretty bad mess.

You know, I was really expecting to see jam spilled all around the place. Sticky, red... jam... on the floor. Yup yup yup.

Fortunately, I was wrong... 

Grim apparently also doesn't like spilled jam, and neither do I.
Grim aimed not at the jam container but to the ground beside it.

The cowboy hat wearing jar, fully intact and its jam safely still within, turned to its side. The jar had a very lovely view of the ground. Except the ground was nowhere to be found.


In its place was a small crater. The ground was kidnapped! OH NOES!

Upon seeing the despicable sight, the jar trembled with anger! Or was it fear!? Such mysterious questions! We may never know the answer...

The jar faced forward. There stood a stone statue; expressions none, movement zero. With the orange sky behind it, the statue's shadow towered the jar.

Their gaze met and was locked in eternal place.

The sight was like a painting. It gave the feeling that even if the world had ended... the orange sky that slowly transitioned into the blue night, the statue, and the jam-filled jar. All these would still remain here.
Their stares forever focused on each other. Unmoving.

Title: Le Jam of de Unmoved Statue (Masterwork)
Beauty: 420

But the unmoving statue moved. It placed one hand on the jar and lifted it from the ground. The other was raised to the heavens.

With a sudden swoop, its heavy fist cracked the jar. The statue then releases its grip. Then it turns to my direction.

"Do we still have that empty cave?"

A deep but curious voice came from it.



With those words, I was taken away from my Jam fan fiction and back into reality. Grim, a merciless murder machine moments earlier, now talked to me as a human being capable of emotions.

"Hey, you alright bud?" Grim said, somewhat worried.

"H-huh? Oh... yeah, I'm fine. What are you planning to do with this dipshit?" I pointed at an unconscious
Mosley, his nose bleeding.

"Despite all his crap, he seems somewhat capable, based on our little firefight earlier."

I quickly catched on to his intentions. "Oh heeeeelllll noooooo. I know where this is going. Don't."

"I can keep watch on him. If that fails, we can just squeeze out additional information about this place."

"As reasonable as that sounds; still fuck no. Fuck this asshole." I stood my ground. The thought of him just leisurely walking around with that goddamn smugness irritated me.

"Heh... you're quite the stubborn little man." Grim smiled as he rested his shotgun onto his shoulders.

Little? Hey you large bastard. You're just way too big.

"Anyways, we keep it. Besides, I already made that cool line. It would be a shame for it to go to waste."

"Ok, I'll agree that that was badass. But still, no, nope, nein, hell n-


And that's how we got Mosley five days ago.

I honestly don't know what use he has for this place. All he does is eat, sleep, and beg Grim to let him out. And we all know why we can't do that. We don't know this dick. We don't know what he can do. We can't really trust him.

He could slit our throats while we sleep should we let him join. He could rally a larger gang if let go.

Then there's that other option... but jesus, we're not goddamn barbarians. Besides, Sverin seems very against it.

Our only option right now is to keep him imprisoned. But that too provides a problem. Right now he's just a food sinkhole. Our food stocks can't afford sinkholes; this one needs to be plugged.

I finished my plate and went out to confront Grim about this issue.

I passed Sverin again doing plant work.

"Is Grim around?"

"Umm... yeah. He's with Mosley, something wrong?"

"Nah, I just need to clear up something with him. Thanks by the way." I headed for where Mosley was held and made a small wave at Sverin; See ya later.

I stood in front a large vertical rock wall. In the middle of it is a steel door. Inside this room is where we decided to keep Mosley for the time being. In theory, Grim is in charge of warden duty but in practice, Sverin pretty much handles all conversations. Grim is just like this scary guard dog keeping watch.

I opened it to see a wide room. Even with the bed, tables, and some chairs, the room comfortably remained spacious.

To the side, a large man sat at a chair, staring at Mosley who's uncomfortably sitting on his bed on the opposite part of the room.

They quickly became aware of my presence.

"Oh hey bud." Grim motioned his hand in a "Yo, sup'" kind of way.

"Uhh... Hey." Mosley nervously said.

"Yeah, hey." I responded to both of them. I made strained smile when I looked at Mosley.

His eyes averted from my mine "Err... Bennett, right? So umm... sorry 'bout last week. This place seems pretty cool from how the other guy described it. So..." Mosley cautiously stated.

"..." I remained silent.

I'm awfully surprised, that seemed sincere. You seemed untroubled by how we slaughtered your friends though. Sincerity or saving your own skin?

"Grim, we need to talk outside."

Grim shrugged his shoulders and followed me out.

"What is it?"

I pointed at the door. "He needs to either pull his weight or dig his grave. He's putting stress on our stocks. The hell are you keeping him around for?"

Grim sighed. "Guess time's about right now anyways."

He then walked to our stockpile and picked up a shotgun then quickly returned.

"We're a little short on manpower. Last week was us being lucky that they didn't bring many guns. Should we encounter a much armed and bigger group, we won't stand a chance."

Thinking about it. Should last week's bush-hiders held any guns; we could have been easily taken out. Their superior numbers allowed many flanks and made cover unreliable. We only had an advantage because of Grim's position, coincidentally thanks to his time out hunting.

"...Good point... B-but how can we trust this guy?"

"Trick question. We can't. Let him trust us." Grim then went back inside, I followed after him.

"Hey, catch." Grim threw the shotgun at the unaware Mosley.

"Yo, wha-OW MY FACE." Like a graceful swan, Mosley caught it not with his hands, but with his beak.

"Too slow partner... Anyways you said you wanted to help out, we're a little short on food here. How about hunting with me?"

Mosley made this squinting expression. "Oi, is-is this some sort of trick? Just handing me shotgun back that easily... seems strange, mate."

Cowboy hat has doubts eh.

"I found you something neat to do, shooting crap. I thought you liked that sort of thing. Guess I was wrong."

"..." No words were given back to Grim for a moment. Then...

"Well, I do like shootin' things..." Mosley said, somewhat reluctant.

"Of course you do. Hey, beat me in a little challenge and you're free to get out of this hole. You can take Bennett's room if you want!"

I glared at the large man. Grim, you asshole.

"You seem different from what I remember days ago, mate." Mosley smiled. Shockingly, it wasn't disgusting.

"Aight, TIME TO SHOOT SOME COWS YO!" He stood up and enthusiastically walked to Grim.

"Hunting time! BRO-TIME!" Grim raised his fist in front of his chest. Giving off an AWWWW YEAAAAA impression.

Soon they went outside; I was left alone in the room.


What the fuck just happened.
"For you, the day Randy graced your colony with a game-ending raid was the most memorable part of your game. But for Cassandra, it was Tuesday"

Squiggly lines you call drawings aka "My Deviantart page"