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Ch. 91 Father and Son Reuinite
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2025-06-18 23:47:12
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Field Team 42: Paranormal Responders Ch. 93 A New, Old House
The house smelled of dust, old wood, and something faintly sweet, like leather left too long in the sun. The kind of smells you get from a place that’s seen years of history but hasn’t yet let go of the past. It was one of those old houses that had creaky floors and a thousand hidden corners. The kind where the stories of the past seemed to echo from the walls, a faint hum of what had been.I hadn’t expected much, but as I stood there in the large foyer of the Grimsby House, I felt... something. Like the weight of the town’s history pressed down on me, even as the weight of the future began to form in my mind.“Jonie, could you grab that crate in the corner?” I asked, trying to steady myself as I took in the sight of the house. There were boxes and crates stacked haphazardly throughout the room, piles of old belongings that didn’t belong to us but to the man who had lived here before.The house was large, larger than anyone might expect in a town as small as Dust Bowl. It was the kind
Field Team 42: Paranormal Responders Ch. 92 Making Sure
The sun was barely up, casting long shadows over the mine's wreckage. The ground still smoldered from the explosion days earlier, and the air smelled of burnt metal, dust, and something... wrong. The mine, once a place of industry, had become a tomb, a place where the horrors of the Neurovore invasion had been sealed away, perhaps for good.But even as the sunlight touched the horizon, a sense of unease settled over the team. The end of one nightmare didn't mean the end of all nightmares."We've got to check it out," I said, glancing over at Mitch, Jonie, and Jane. The team, now less the ragtag group of misfits and more a family in the truest sense, had bonded over our shared experiences. The scars were still fresh. "We need to be sure."The others nodded, their faces grim, knowing the weight of what we had to do. The mine was a graveyard now, but we couldn’t leave anything to chance. Not with the Neurovores, not with the future of the world at stake.The road leading to the Good Rock
Field Team 42: Paranormal Responders Ch. 91 Father and Son Reuinite
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when we gathered around the dusty, old table in the same cabin in which, just a little over a year ago, Bob and his S.H.A.D.E. squad had brought us and tortured us a bit before introducing us to Dr. Schnell. That seemed a lifetime ago, now. It was quiet, eerily so, as if the weight of the last few days had finally caught up to us all. We were preparing for the last leg of our mission: making sure the Hellgate at Good Rock Mine was sealed shut for good by observing the mine to make sure that nothing from the Neurovores homeworld was going to get through. We thought that the Neurovores had never had a chance to attune the Hellgate to their world and make contact with it, but we needed to be sure. Once we left, Control, if it still existed, would embed undercover watchers in Dust Bowl to keep an eye on it.It had been a few days since the explosion caved in the mine, completely burying the entrance in boulders that would take major excavational
Field Team 42: Paranormal Responders Ch. 90 Closing the Hellgate
The desert had a way of making everything feel too vast, too empty. It stretched out in all directions, leaving nothing but sand and scattered scrub as far as the eye could see. Except for Dust Bowl, the defiant little town that had stuck it out here, from the gritty determination of the original pioneers, to the people who’d survived decades of the Dirt Curse, Dust Bowl was still here. The town and the roads leading to it were humanity’s mark on what otherwise would be untamed wilderness.This wasn’t just another job. This was the final mission. The Good Rock Mine, the Hellgate, the Neurovores, all of it needed to be wiped from existence. The stakes had never been higher.Spitfire had hacked into the Control system earlier that day, making sure there were no surprises waiting for us. No incoming patrols. No hidden surprises. Everything was lined up perfectly. Bob and Dr. Schnell were already setting up the explosives, a grim determination on both of their faces. Mitch and Rachelle we
Field Team 42: Paranormal Responders Ch. 89 One of the Good Guys
The cold desert wind stings my face as the hum of the motorcycle engine fills the night air. The highway stretches ahead of me, the occasional flicker of distant stars barely lighting the way. Phoenix is behind me, and Dust Bowl, my destination, is still a long ride ahead. I should be focused on the task at hand, but I can’t shake the weight of everything that’s happened. The fight with Mr. Y, the bitter victory, the lingering presence of the vetala. There’s too much in my head.I rev the engine, pushing forward, the night swallowing everything around me. The desert feels endless, but strangely familiar. This is the kind of emptiness that makes the rest of the world seem distant. It feels like nothing matters here. Nothing but me, the road, Marcus clinging to my back, and the miles between me and Dust Bowl.The hum of the engine is my only company.I glance down at my fuel gauge out of habit, though I know I don’t need it. Thorium fluoride tech doesn’t need fuel. The bike hums with a
Field Team 42: Paranormal Responders Ch. 88 The Hitchhiker
The cold desert wind sliced through the night as I revved the engine, pushing my motorcycle down the empty highway. The dark sky stretched endlessly above me, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of distant stars. The air smelled of dust and sagebrush, the kind of smell that sticks to your clothes and lingers in your lungs. It felt... familiar, even though it was all too easy to forget how unsettling this world had become since the Neurovores started their campaign.I should have been focused on the road ahead. I should have been thinking about Dust Bowl, about the Hellgate, about the thousands of lives at risk. But instead, my mind kept drifting back to the fight with Mr. Y. The victory was hollow. I had won, yes, but at what cost? The vetala’s lingering influence, its twisted memories... I was trying to move forward, but the weight of it all kept pulling me back.The motorcycle roared beneath me, a comforting hum in the night, as I sped through the desolate stretch of desert.
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