JerichoVardez

Not sure if this would help, but I've found it nice separating my open programs between workspaces. Game on one and other programs in side tabs. Can quickly access the panel by switching workspaces.

Does take a bit of self-adjusting to how it works on Windows as you need to organize in your mind which program is in which workspace.

Soup, yogurt or blending a bunch of vegetables/fruit into a smoothie. Tastes awful but it's easy to down and will keep you alive.

While I don't agree with their reaction. In spite of the inconsistency, I see this as still accomplishing the goal. Part of the rationale behind the carbon tax is incentivizing a move away from CO2 emitting sources through cost. The high cost of heating oil even without the tax could be argued as incentive enough. Whether it was a move simply meant to "buy" votes in Atlantic Canada and whether the exemptions was a good move anyway... Don't know.

Medeah of the Silver Voice walked unseen through human back alleys. Her ethereal form hiding her from the senses of all but the most perceptive. Even then, they would only see an illusive shadow, a faint whisper, an imagined figure within their memories. Medeah sang through the back alleys, soothing the hearts of the wretches who lived nearby and heartened those broken down by life. An angel’s voice, even when heard beyond consciousness, can heal one’s soul. Just as a demon’s can rip it apart.

A last song on Medeah’s lips died as their wings unfurled and straightened alongside their back. Wariness crept throughout the angel’s body. A half crouched being made of nothing but a dozen arms and sewed shut mouths. A single unclosed mouth grinned a twisted and blood dripping set of sharp fangs at Medeah. Its voice screeched pain and whispered fear in the unwary humans. Bystander victims to their meeting.

“Medeah, angelic Medeah. Singing a song for unworthy souls. Singing a song on command. Singing a song as you wont or ought to do?”

Lyrical yet forcecful, Medeah responds as a balm to the human soul.

“Demon of the deep. I am here as is my duty and pleasure to serve. As should be your pleasure in your role down below. Go back to the Hell from whence you came. Torture the souls as you are bid to do and leave the souls of the mortal realm alone. I know what you are and this is not your place.”

With a single twitch, the mouth shifts in a more mocking tone.

“My place? Oh, Hells and Heavens. What place might that be? On what horrific role am I chained to by the wretched Book of Prophecies. Our roles laid in stone. Our lives read out by Masters, too enraptured in Divinity to question these roles? What is my place? Tell me oh sweet Medeah. Tell me.”

Medea took out a single candle and it lit up in bright flame. Pointing it towards the demon, It flared with every word spoken.

“Zargus, do not test me. I know your name. Zargus, Eater of the Fifth Pit of Hell. You belong down below and not in the Mortal Realm. Such is your name given in the Book of Prophecies. Such is the role in the grand scheme of this World. Return from whence you came. For I am Medeah of the Silver Voice. And in my role, I soothe and protect humans of this realm. Return or face my wrath.”

A cackle began to echo from Zargus. With their many arms, they started to rip stitches, freeing its mouths. Each new open mouth echoing new sounds stretched into coherent noise.

A serious voice with background babbling obscenities.

“The role in the book of Prophecies? Hilarious!”

Metal scraping against chalkboard.

“Medeah has not heard the latest passage. The Readers have intoned. The Voices have spoken.”

Growling beasts from a hundred hungry lands.

“Medeah sings but does not listen. Walks among mortals as is their role. Never questions the role may change. Never looks to The Readers, for the Prophecy in the new day.”

As each voice rips out into the alley, new creatures creep out from every nook and cranny. Appearing from the shadows and forming eyes, ears, flesh, mold, fur, claws, blood and all deformed to suit the needs of Hell. Each new shadow causing Medeah to step back. Their flame waning back into the candle. With fear and trepidation, they ask the demon.

“What new Prophecy has been read? What role has been changed?”

To which every voice from Zargus speaks out at once. Mouths an open maw towards the angel as they are surrounded by a dozen demons inching closer.

“None... There is nothing in the next page of the Book of Prophecies. There are no more roles to play Sweet Medea.”

Upvoting and saving for future reference. Ty.

With a slow ungainly gait, 5 figures move towards a large semi-circular door. They are barely visible at night in their bulky jet black suits. One of them crouches as much as they can and starts working some controls on the side, while 2 others begin to wedge something in between the doors.

After several moments of pry bar scraping against metal and a few sparks, a small whirring can be heard as a latch opens from within. The doors begin to be pried open slowly. An opening just big enough for a single one of the figures to fit through without walking sideways has been forced. They all go in as quickly as they can in their cumbersome suits one by one. When they’re all inside, 4 of them click a button on their wrists, illuminating the path with helmet mounted flashlights. A sudden crackle is suddenly heard emanating from their suits.

With a single gesture, most follow one in the lead. The 5th member stays behind and keeps watch through the opened doors.

Once they are deep enough inside, another gesture. They each in sequence turn on their short range radios and confirm from the others.

“Kor here, confirm.” They each wave at the first person to speak simultaneously. Same with every other member. “Phillis here, confirm.” “Cindy here, confirm.” “Lonny here, confirm.”

Kor starts handing out next orders after confirming they can all hear each other. This whole endeavour has been planned months in advance. So this whole process serves only as a precautionary reminder.

They continue on in formation. The crackle of radiation detectors remaining constant and reassuring the team of minimal exposure. After a long slow walk through the facility’s well memorized map, the crackle disappears A slight whine comes from their detectors as radiation begins to spike.

Looking at their meters, They all call out their levels. Lonny quickly reassures them.

“Still well within our suit’s protection rating. Still above what a contained room must be though. There must be a leak. Spread out and search for it.”

Various confirmations as they separate. Soon enough, Phillis is heard through the radio.

“Cracked door opening here. I need sealant.”

They all come over and Kor removes from a side holster a spray connected to their back. A small crack in the wall is quickly covered in a blue foam. The radiation levels drop slightly but the whine remains. Lonny informs them all.

“Must be a spill in that room. Some of the particles must have diffused into the air and spilled over to the main hall. We won’t be able to remove our suits while we stay inside. Best to avoid that room for our material.’

Kor points to another door a bit farther away before they move on to it. After prying it open like the first door, a whole room stacked halfway full with barrels is awash in their flashlights. They all notice the problem quickly enough as Kor preemptively orders them to be quiet.

There is a suit in the middle of the room. Similar design but clearly from another group. It is brownish faded colour crumpled in front of an open nuclear barrel. Kor, soon after gives out orders.

“Cindy, arms. Phillis tell me who this is.”

Cindy pulls out their gun. She and Ted at the front door are the only 2 within the group capable of aiming at anything in their respective suits. Phillis steps over to the suit and barrel to make out more details. As she steps back, she turns on her radio to explain what she found in short radio bursts.

“Dead body. Small but deep gashes from whatever killed them. They’ve been here a while. Design is a few years old. From the country across the border though. That border’s far from here.”

“Any idea what killed them?” Kor asks.

She looks back quickly before responding.

“From the suit, could be any number of mutants. There’s signs of the waste being consumed. From that...”

She lets it hang in the air as they all understand immediately. Kor immediately orders them all back. He ensures all of them know what to do as they start making their way back.

“Everyone note this down in your heads. At least one of us makes it back. Tell the nearby settlement we have signs of a nuke eater. Hopefully, it’s been hibernating this whole time. But based on the lack of destroyed walls or ripped barrels, it’s small, smart and dexterous. The trifecta of nightmare fuel.”

Within sight is the slight distant rays from the open door outside. Ted’s suit slightly silhouetted to the side of it.

As Kor is about to turn on their radio to explain the situation to Ted within range, a single sound pierces through the crackling meters. A low deep rumble echos from within the facility.

They are all scrambling to the exit before Kor can shout through the radio, “RUN!”