GERALD UPDATE: Alright, my fellow witnesses to the increasingly concerning descent into crow-related mythology— The next Gerald chapter is going to be slightly delayed because I have to leave town this weekend. Unfortunately, this means I will be temporarily unavailable to document the activities of my feathered war council, investigate ancient deities, negotiate with shadows, and prevent Gerald from committing what I can only assume are several international crimes. I have tried explaining to General Gerald that I have obligations outside of his ancient crow empire. He was not receptive. He hummed at me. I hummed back. We stared at each other for several seconds. I believe negotiations have failed. So while I go handle real-world responsibilities, Gerald and his feathered bandits will apparently have to wait. But fear not. When I return, we will resume exactly where we left off: Ancient gods. Forgotten bargains. Questionable moral decisions. A thousand years of trauma. Kitten's increasingly endangered toes. Dante tapping ominously in the background. Jager questioning every decision that led him here. And Gerald... Gerald knows something. He always fucking knows something. So consider this your brief intermission before we descend back into the darkness. I will return. The chaos will resume. The crows are waiting. And whatever ancient deity Gerald has pissed off is probably waiting too. See you all when I get back. Until then— Keep your walnuts close. Trust no crows. And if you see a small black bird wearing a tiny crown... RUN. 🐦‍⬛👑

GERALD & THE FEATHERED BANDITS — PART IV: THE CROW AND THE CANDLE Three knocks. That's how last night ended. Three slow, deliberate knocks from beneath my home. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Ill fortune always bears three fruits. And apparently... one of them lives in my fucking basement now. Fantastic. Sleep did not come to me. For Kitten it did. How? I could not tell you. I spent majority of the night sitting on my couch staring at the ground while Gerald remained perched outside my window. Watching. Waiting. No movement in the slightest. Every so often I'd glance over at him. He'd glance at me. Neither of us hummed. Our relationship had reached the silent-treatment phase within the marriage. Around 3:17 AM, Kitten wandered into the room nuzzled in a blanket. "Has Satan's pigeon moved?" "No." "Anymore knocking?" "No." "Fantastic." She turned back around. "Where are you going?" "Back to bed." "THERE IS AN ANCIENT EVIL UNDER MY HOUSE!" She took a pregnant pause. Looked at me. "And what exactly would you like me to do about that at three in the fucking morning?" ... Valid. She disappeared down the hall. I looked back toward Gerald. "Your recruit is incredibly useful." From outside: Hmmm. "Fuck off." But something had been bothering me. Gerald knew that thing was down there. He had known from the very beginning. The map. The crown. The scouting. The army. He didn't wake it by accident. He wanted it to be awoken. And suddenly... I wasn't sure whose side I was actually on. At sunrise, Gerald finally moved. He tapped the window. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Absolutely fucking not." Tap. Tap. Tap. "Gerald, we've already established three is incredibly ominous." Hmmm. Then he flew away. I sighed. Grabbed my stick crown. And followed him. Because apparently survival instincts are most optional equipment and mine didn't come with factory-installment. Kitten followed behind me. "Where are we going?" "Your guess is as good as mine." "Excellent. Loving that for us." Gerald led us back into the woods. But not toward the dungeon. Not toward the stone. Somewhere else. Somewhere deeper. Eventually we reached an behemoth dead oak. Its branches were twisted together like fingers. Hundreds of strips of black cloth hung from them. At the base of the tree sat something strange. A candle. Just one. Gerald landed beside it. Kitten stopped. "No." "He hasn't even done anything yet." "There is a single candle beneath a decayed tree covered in black ribbons. I've seen enough horror movies to understand basic fucking foreshadowing." Gerald ignored her. He tapped the ground. Scratched beneath the leaves. And uncovered something. A small stone tablet. There was writing carved into it. No symbols this time. Just words. Old and weathered. But legible. At the top: THE CROW AND THE CANDLE Gerald perched beside it. And somehow... I knew he wanted me to read. So I did. Once there was a crow who ruled over a starving flock. Winter had swallowed the land. The trees bore no fruit. The rivers became stone. And each morning the crow awoke to fewer voices than the morning before. One night, the crow saw a candle burning inside the home of Man. The crow knew that fire had belonged to the Man. The crow knew taking it was forbidden. But the crow also knew his children were freezing. So he stole the flame. He carried it home in his beak. The fire warmed the first nest. Then the second. Then the third. And the flock rejoiced. The crow had saved them. But wherever the candle burned... a shadow appeared. At first, the shadow was small. So the flock ignored it. As the flame grew... so did the shadow. Until eventually... the shadow became hungry. The flock begged their King to extinguish the flame. But winter still surrounded them. Without the fire, they would freeze. With the fire... the shadow would feed. And so the King was given a choice. Extinguish the flame and allow many to perish. Or... choose one bird each night for the shadow. I stopped reading. Kitten stopped making jokes. The latter concerned me more than anything. I looked at Gerald. "What did the King choose?" Gerald didn't move. I looked back at the stone. There was one final line. I brushed the dirt away. And read it. The King fed the shadow. Silence. "Jesus Christ." Kitten whispered. Gerald looked at me. I suddenly understood why he'd brought me here. "No." Gerald tilted his head. "No, Gerald." Hmmm. "I know what you're asking, and I am saying NO." Kitten looked between us. "Well, fantastic, because I fucking don't." I pointed toward the story. "He's asking what I would choose." Gerald nodded. Kitten stared at him. "You're giving her a fucking ethics exam?" Hmmm. "YOU KIDNAPPED ME FOR THIS ORGANIZATION AND NOW THERE'S HOMEWORK?" Normally I would have laughed. I couldn't. Because Gerald was still staring at me. Waiting. I looked back at the tablet. One life. For many. Simple mathematics. Horrifying mathematics. And suddenly the crown on my head felt weighted. "I wouldn't choose." Gerald's feathers shifted. Hmmm. "I said I wouldn't choose." Gerald tapped the tablet. Harder. "There has to be another way." He tapped again. "I'm not feeding anyone to a monster just because a fucking rock says those are my options." Gerald screamed. The forest erupted. Hundreds of crows descended from the trees. Kitten grabbed my arm. Gerald flew directly in front of me. Angry. Not annoyed. Not impatient. Furious. And I finally snapped. "YOU MADE ME KING!" Silence. Even Gerald stopped. "Remember?" I pulled the crown from my head. "You brought me into this." I stepped closer. "You put this stupid fucking collection of shrubbery on my head." Kitten whispered: "Very regal." "Thank you." I pointed at Gerald. "So if I'm King, then I decide." Gerald stared at me. "And I will not sacrifice someone just because it's convenient." Hmmm. "I don't care if that's what the last King did." Gerald froze. There. Something changed. The crows began whispering amongst themselves. Tiny clicks. Soft caws. Restless wings. And suddenly I realized... The story wasn't about some ancient crow. Gerald lowered his head. "Gerald..." He wouldn't look at me. Oh. Oh fuck. I turned toward the tablet. The King fed the shadow. One bird every night. Again. And again. And again. Until winter ended. I looked at Gerald. "That was your King." Silence. "Wasn't it?" Gerald closed his eyes. Hmmm. Kitten whispered: "Oh fuck." For once...accurate and appropriately timed. Gerald hadn't brought me here to learn how to defeat the thing beneath my house. He brought me here because he'd seen this once before. His flock had survived it before. And Gerald knew the price. "How many?" Gerald didn't answer. "How many birds did he sacrifice?" Nothing. Then the forest moved. One crow descended. He was old. He was missing feathers. One of his eyes clouded white. Then another. Then another. They were scarred. They were broken. They grew silent. Survivors. There had been another war. Another King. Another shadow. And suddenly Gerald's obsession with loyalty made terrifying sense. Why betrayal had mattered. Why he tested Kitten. Why he watched me. Why he needed to know what kind of King I would become. I looked down at the crown that rested in my hands. Maybe that was the real fable. Not the crow. Not the candle. Not even the shadow. The King. Because anyone can promise to protect everyone when protection costs absolutely nothing. Leadership becomes something entirely different when the saving of many requires you to look at one innocent soul...and decide they are expendable. I placed the crown back upon my head. "I'm not your old King." Gerald stared at me. "Nobody is getting fed to anything." A long pause. Then— THUMP. The ground shook. Kitten sighed. "Of fucking course." THUMP. Birds exploded from the branches. Gerald remained. THUMP. Closer. The candle beneath the tree suddenly ignited. Nobody touched it. Its tiny flame flickered. And behind Gerald... his shadow stretched across the ground. Longer. Longer. Longer. Until it reached my feet. Except... Gerald hadn't moved. The flame hadn't moved. But the shadow had. Kitten whispered: "Bexxy." "I see it." The shadow crawled over my boots...up my legs...across my chest. Then stopped directly over the crown. Gerald screamed. The candle went out. Darkness. And from somewhere beneath the earth... something whispered. Not a hum. Not a knock. Spoken words.. "A King who will sacrifice nothing..." The voice came from every direction. The soil. The trees. My bones. Then it laughed. Low. Ancient. Starving. "…will eventually sacrifice everything." Silence. Kitten grabbed my hand. Gerald stared into the darkness. I swallowed. "Well." Kitten looked at me. "Don't." "I was just going to say—" "Whatever sarcastic bullshit you're about to say, DON'T." ... Fair. Gerald slowly turned towards me. And for once... I didn't need him to hum. I understood. The thing beneath my home had just challenged the King. And I had answered. Nobody was being sacrificed. Nobody was being offered. Nobody was becoming food for some ancient shadow because tradition said that's how this story ends. Maybe that made me brave. Maybe it made me foolish. More than likely both. But here's the thing about old fables: They're supposed to teach you how the story ends. Nobody ever said you had to obey them. I looked toward Gerald. Gerald looked toward me. I nodded. He nodded. Kitten sighed. "You two are about to do something entirely fucking stupid, aren't you?" Gerald: Hmmm. Me: "Abso-fucking-lutely." Kitten stared at us. "I want my walnut back." And somewhere deep beneath the earth... the shadow laughed again. Because apparently... Phase Two had begun.

GERALD & THE FEATHERED BANDITS — PART III: THE MIDNIGHT PROCESSION Midnight. There are certain things in life that should concern you. A random knock at your door when you aren't expecting anyone. Your dog staring intently into an empty corner of the room. Hearing your name whispered when you're the only soul in your home. A child calmly telling you in detail how they died. And now apparently... being summoned into the woods at midnight by a crow who just recently kidnapped your best friend and threatened to seize her fucking toe. Yet here I stood. At 11:57 PM. Outside. Wearing my crown of sticks. Because apparently when Gerald said "we ride at midnight," he indeed expected formal attire. Kitten stood beside me gripping the walnut Gerald had given her. She had not let go of it since receiving the damned thing in the dungeon. Not because she'd grown emotionally attached to it. But because Gerald had made it exponentially clear that losing it would have... consequences. "I still don't understand why I have to carry this fucking walnut." "It's probably ceremonial." "He threatened my toe over this god forsaken organization." "Technically, I was the one who threatened your toe. Gerald just merely provided the options of such threats." She slowly turned toward me. "That somehow makes it worse." Fair. 11:59. Nothing. No Gerald. No crows. No humming. Just darkness. Then... Midnight. Every light on the block went out. Not flickered. Not dimmed. Just out. Kitten grabbed my arm. "Bexxy." "Yeah." "Was that Gerald?" "Genuinely I don't have any idea anymore." Then we heard it. Click. A talon scrapping against metal. Another. Click. Then another. Click. One by one, shapes began appearing along the power lines. Crows. Hundreds of them. Completely silent. No squawking. No wings. Nothing. Just black silhouettes appearing against the moonlight. Watching. Waiting. Then Gerald landed on my mailbox. Which reminds me...through all of this...I STILL HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO GET MY FUCKING MAIL. Irrelevant. Except... Gerald looked different. Around one leg was a tiny piece of crimson cloth. Around the other... a little silver chain. And hanging from his beak was— "Is that my fucking necklace?" Kitten whispered. Gerald looked at her. Hmmm. "WHEN DID YOU TAKE THAT?" Gerald turned his back. Apparently questions were not on tonight's agenda. Figures. Then the cortege began. Gerald flew. The militia followed. We did as well. Because at this point, if Gerald walked into a fucking volcano I'd probably sigh, grab some snacks, and follow him just to see how the plot developed. Fuck it, why not? We entered the woods. The deeper we walked, the quieter everything became. No insects. No wind. No leaves moving. Nothing. Even our footsteps seemed wrong. Muted even. Like the forest was swallowing the sound. Kitten moved closer. "I don't like this." "You haven't liked any of this." "AND HAVE I BEEN WRONG YET?" ... I loathe when she does that. Ahead of us, Gerald landed on a crooked branch of a large decaying tree. Weird choice. Hmmm. We stopped. He looked at Kitten. Then at the walnut. She held it up. "Yes, I still have your stupid fucking nut." Gerald puffed his feathers. "Sorry. Your incredibly important sacred nut." Gerald nodded. Progress. *spirit fingers* Then he looked at me. More specifically... at my crown. I adjusted it. "What?" Hmmm. "Gerald, I wore the fucking crown. What more do you want from me?" He flew down and landed upon a stone. Except... it wasn't just a stone. There were markings carved into it. Ancient ones. There were circles. There were lines. And symbols I didn't recognize. But directly in the center... a crown. The same crooked, uneven shape as the crown sitting on my head. My stomach dropped. "Kitten.." "Yes?" "Remember when we thought the stick crown was stupid?" "I STILL think it's stupid." "There is literally an ancient drawing of it." "Two things can be true at once." Gerald tapped the stone. Once. Twice. Thrice. The ground shook. Nope. Absolutely the fuck not. The earth beneath the stone cracked open with a low grinding sound. Cold air scuttled out from beneath us. And suddenly there were stairs. Going down. Because apparently Gerald's real estate portfolio consists exclusively of places that would get us murdered in the backrooms. Kitten looked towards me. I looked towards Kitten. "I'm NOT going down there." Gerald: Hmmm. Kitten: "Fuck you Gerald." Gerald slowly looked at her feet. ... "STOP LOOKING AT MY FUCKING TOES." I grabbed her arm. "Come on." "I hate you right now." "You've stated that already." And down we went. Gerald first. Me second. Kitten third. And behind us... the crows. Thousands of them. Silent. Watching. Descending. At the bottom was a subterranean abyss. Cobblestone walls. Old candles. Bones. Before anyone gets dramatic— animal bones...I think. Yeah we're going with animal bones. For legal purposes. And in the middle of the cavernous hall sat a giant wooden table. Gerald landed on it. The other crows arranged themselves against the walls. Every single one facing us. Kitten whispered: "This feels a bit cultist." "They're crows." "Crows could have cults." "Can they?" "LOOK AROUND YOU." Again. Fair. Gerald tapped the table. On it was a map. to our neighborhood. Except this map was old. Extremely old. There were no modern streets. No homes. Just the forest. A creek. A few strange symbols. And one vast black circle. Directly underneath... my home. I stared at Gerald. "What the fuck is that?" Gerald didn't hum. For the first time since meeting him... Gerald didn't make a sound. He solely stared at the circle. And suddenly... every crow in the chamber lowered their heads. That was considerably worse than humming. Kitten whispered: "Bexxy..." "I see it." "Why are the murder birds bowing?" "YOU KNOW AS MUCH AS I KNOW!" Gerald finally looked at me. Then my crown. Then the circle. Everything clicked. The surveillance. The scouting. The militia. The coronation. The dungeon. Framing me. I still don't know what for... Kitten. The midnight procession. Gerald didn't make me King because he liked me. That raven-feathered little fucker had been drafting me. For something... ...Something beneath my home. "Gerald..." He ever so slowly nodded. Then he turned toward Kitten. Her trial had begun. Gerald tapped the walnut. Then pointed toward the black circle. Kitten stared at him. "Absolutely fucking not." Gerald: Hmmm. "No." HMMMM. "MY TOE IS NOT PART OF THIS NEGOTIATION!" Gerald looked at me. I shrugged. "He's got you there." "YOU ARE A TERRIBLE KING." "Give me a week." Gerald pointed again. Kitten sighed as she walked toward the table. And placed the walnut directly over the black circle. Nothing happened. We waited. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Kitten looked at Gerald. "There. I did your dumb little—" THUMP. Something beneath us shifted. The candles went out. Every crow exploded into an ear curdling screech. Kitten grabbed me. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" "GERALD?!" Then— THUMP. Closer. Silt fell from the ceiling. Gerald flew onto my shoulder. His claws dug deeply into my shirt. And for the first time... Gerald looked afraid. Not nervous. Not cautious. Completely and irrevocably afraid. Which was entirely fucking inconvenient. Gerald is supposed to be the terrifying one. "Gerald..." Very quietly... barely more than breath... Hmmm. And somehow... I understood him perfectly. Whatever is it is...it knows the King has returned. ... Kitten stared at me. "What did he say?" I looked into the darkness. "Nothing." "Bexxy." "Nothing of importance." THUMP. "YOU ARE A HORRIBLE FUCKING LIAR." "Stating the obvious..." The crows abruptly took flight. Thousands of wings beating through the chamber. Gerald screamed. And every bird vanished up the staircase. I grabbed Kitten. "RUN." "YOU DON'T HAVE TO FUCKING TELL ME TWICE." We sprinted. Up the stairs. Through the woods. Branches tearing at our clothes. Crows screaming overhead. Something moving through the trees behind us. Something BIG. I refused to look back. Kitten did. She immediately regretted it. "BEXXY." "DON'T!" "BEXXY!" "I DON'T WANT TO KNOW." "RUN FUCKING FASTER!" Excellent feedback. We burst through the tree line. The streetlights sputtered back on. And everything stopped. Silence. No footsteps. No movement. Nothing. Gerald landed on my mailbox. Perfectly calm again. Of course he was. I bent over trying to breathe. Kitten was still clutching at my arm. "Gerald..." He looked at me. "What the FUCK did you have us wake up?" Gerald tilted his head. Hmmm. Then he dropped a tiny piece of paper at my feet. Two words. PHASE ONE. ... I stared at him. "WHAT THE FUCK IS PHASE ONE?!" Gerald flew away. Kitten and I just stood there in silence. Finally she looked at me. "I want it officially documented that I was completely against this from the beginning." "Noted." "I'm keeping my toe." "We'll discuss it." "THERE IS NOTHING TO DISCUSS!" From somewhere deep into the darkness: HMMMMMM. Kitten looked toward the woods. "I SWEAR TO GOD, GERALD!" And somewhere beneath my home... Something knocked a dangerous knock. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Ill fortunes always bears three fruits. So anyway... I don't think Gerald is trying to overthrow me anymore. Which is great. Unfortunately... I am certain he made me King and we're going to war. With what? I can only assume it wont be any good.

GERALD & THE FEATHERED BANDITS — PART II: THE PRICE OF TREASON Are you little creatures on the edge of your seats? Are you prepared for the rollercoaster of events your about to be forced into enduring? If you are, good...hold on tight. If you're not, well, darlings, you might want to invest in some reinforcements because Gerald is not going to hold back. So. Kitten and I are currently in Gerald's dungeon of deception. Gerald has apparently framed me for something. Only God knows what that's about. My crow Malaita has staged what feels dangerously like a coup. And my best friend has been kidnapped because she committed the unforgivable crime of... being correct about Gerald and his nefarious plans. Kitten paced behind the bars. "I told you." "I know." "I TOLD YOU!" "Kitten..." "FOR DAYS NOW!" "I KNOW!" "But nooooo!! Gerald's your "little General." "Gerald brings you shiny things." "Gerald gave you a fucking stick crown."" "It was a SYMBOL OF OFFICE!" "IT HAD A DEAD LEAF IN IT!" Before I could defend the artistry of my royal regalia... Gerald entered. Alone. Slowly. He moves with absolute silence, like a lion on the hunt stalking its prey. He flows into the dungeon like spilled ink. His glides through the corridors like a drifting piece of midnight. He watches us from the darkness, completely still, enjoying the quiet terror of his surprise visit. He hops onto the table. Kitten and I only know he is there because the room becomes increasingly cold. His sharp talons click softly, sounding exactly like dripping water. Kitten immediately pointed at him. "FUCK YOU." Gerald blinks. Hmmm. "DON'T YOU HMMM ME." I step between them. Because diplomacy of course. This is why I was named King. "Gerald. Explain yourself." He stares at me. I stared back. Hmmm. "Use your words." ... HMMMMMM. "Those are not fucking words." Gerald hops closer toward the iron-clad bars. Then in a devilishly lowered voice. "Hmmm." I froze. Kitten froze. Because somehow... we both understood. This in its entirety was not what it looked like from the outside in. Gerald had a plan. A plan bigger than all of us. Whatever he has me taking the fall for... whatever the crows had been scouting... whatever Gerald had been priming for... us...being here...in this moment...was all part of it. We needed to wait. We needed to trust him. We needed to be patient. I slowly nodded. Gerald nodded. Kitten looked between us. "Are you two seriously fucking communicating right now?" "Yes." "HE HUMMED." "It's complicated." "YOU BOTH NEED THERAPY!" Gerald's head snapped toward her. Oh. Oh no. I'd almost forgotten. Gerald holds grudges. And Kitten has spent DAYS publicly accusing this bird of conspiracy of treason. Gerald knew. Gerald remembered. Gerald had apparently has been keeping fucking receipts. He hopped toward Kitten. He then looked at me. And then at Kitten. Then... at Kitten's feet. No. "Gerald." Hmmm. "Gerald, please don't." He tapped his beak against a tiny wooden plaque that had somehow been planted carefully inside our cell. I wont be asking how Gerald managed to best us on that account. Anyway... Two options had been carved into it. THE TOE. or THE TRAITOR. I stared at him. "You're going to make me choose?" Gerald nodded. Kitten looked down. Then back at me. "What the fuck does 'the traitor' mean?" "I don't think you want to know." Gerald tapped the second option. Then dramatically dragged one feathered wing across his throat. ... "OH COME ON, GERALD!" He shrugged. THE CROW FUCKING SHRUGGED AT ME! I turned towards Kitten. "I'm so sorry." Her eyes widened in horror. "Bexxy." "You have nine others." "BEXX!." *"And quite honestly **when you think about it...*the big toe is kind of arrogant." "DON'T YOU DARE START GASLIGHTING ME ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF A TOE!" "I'm saving your LIFE, you should be thanking me." "SAVE ALL OF ME!" Gerald tapped on the plaque impatiently. Fine. I chose. THE TOE. Gerald squawked. The dungeon erupted. Crows poured in from every direction. Kitten backed against the wall. "WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT—" Suddenly... Gerald stopped them. Because apparently taking the toe wasn't satisfactory enough. No. Not in the slightest. Kitten had spent too long watching. Too long questioning. Too long publicly challenging General Gerald and his motions. If she wanted to survive inside his organization... she would have to prove herself useful to the caws. (see what I did there?) Gerald dropped something at her feet. A walnut. Kitten stared at it. Then Gerald. Then me. "What am I supposed to fucking do with this?" I shrugged. "Welcome to the organization." Gerald: Hmmm. Kitten: "I hate the pair of you." Me: "You'll learn...eventually" Gerald unlocked the cell. Then disappeared back into the darkness. No further explanations. The other crows followed. Kitten and I stood there for a moment longer. Liberated. Confused. Still technically in possession of all twenty combined toes... for now. Because I don't think Gerald wanted the toe today. The toe was collateral. A promise. Kitten had been given a chance. One opportunity to prove that she belonged. And whatever Gerald had framed me for? Whatever required him to kidnap my best friend? Whatever the crow army had spent days scouting? We were about to find out. How do I know without a doubt? Because just before Gerald disappeared up the stairs... He stopped. He turned. He looked directly at us. And he hummed. Not his normal hum. No. Not in the slightest. This one was different. This hum was... Low. It was... Dark. Almost excited even. I looked toward Kitten. Kitten looked toward me. "What is he saying?" I swallowed. "We ride at midnight." ... Kitten sighed. "I fucking hate your bird." From somewhere upstairs: HMMMMMM. "HE FUCKING HEARD ME, DIDN'T HE?" That he did. Gerald always hears. And Gerald... never forgets.

GERALD & THE FEATHERED BANDITS — PART I: THE WITNESS As promised, my favorite little creatures, you get two Gerald updates today due to a power outage and my working until 10 PM which quite rudely interfered with the increasingly concerning political development between myself and the flock of organized criminals. And unfortunately... While I was busy dealing with the collapse of modern civilization... Gerald was busy. Now there is something I haven't told you about this story that I now feel was vital information being missed. From the very start of this situation.. we've had a witness. Kitten. My best friend. My confidant. And, apparently, the world's least subtle crow conspiracy theorist. Every meeting between Gerald and I? She's been in the shadows watching. The nut negotiations. The Good Spoon Incident. The underworld factions institutionalization of a black market run by the city's worst Crows. The power-line surveillancing. My coronation into Kingly duties. Gerald's promotion ceremony to General. She was here for it it all. And while the rest of you have been watching this relationship blossom into whatever deeply concerning interspecies military alliance it has become... Kitten has remained suspicious. In fact, she's been publicly warning me. "Gerald has it out for you." "He's plotting something." "You're going to take the fall for whatever he's planning." Naturally, I ignored these concerns, because we are here for the plot development. Gerald is MY General. I am HIS King. We have bonded. Our communications are primarily through humming and prolonged eye contact and head nodding. Trust has been entrenched. This morning, however... Kitten didn't message me...she didn't call me...NOT. A. PEEP. Odd. But not entirely alarming. She does have a life outside of just me. Noon came and still... Nothing. I messaged her. No response. ....Interesting.... Concurrently, Gerald was behaving completely normal. And by "normal," I mean siting on my tree staring through my fucking window. "Morning, General." Hmmm. "Have you seen Kitten?" ... Gerald looked left. Then he looked right. Then directly at me. Hmmm. Suspicious. Suspicious indeed. Before I could give him the third degree, he flew away. Then I noticed something on my porch. There was an object sitting there. A shiny object. So obviously I walked over. It was a key. A tiny fucking key. Next to it sat a note. Now, I don't know how Gerald learned to write. I'm choosing to ignore that particular piece of the lore. I already have enough issues. The note said: TAKE THE KEY. So naturally... I took the fucking key. I KNOW. I KNOW. I CAN ALREADY HEAR YOU ALL SCREAMING. "Bexx, maybe don't blindly follow directions left by a crow who commands a small, but vast militia." Would be excellent advice on your part. Would've also been incredibly useful upwards of thirty seconds earlier. Because the INSTANT I picked it up... sirens. Somewhere nearby. Gerald sat upon on the power line. Then another crow. Then another. Then another. Within seconds the entire fucking army had formed. All staring at me. I looked toward Gerald. Gerald looked toward me. "Gerald..." Hmmm. "What have you done?" He slowly turned his head away. THAT FEATHERED MOTHERFUCKER! Kitten was right. I should have been more weary to listen. GERALD WAS INDEED PLANNING SOMETHING. AND I WAS TAKING THE FALL. I started toward him. "GERALD!" He flew. I followed. Because apparently dignity left my sense of being several chapters ago. I walked through the yard. Climbed over the fence. Trudged behind the shed. And went directly into the woods. Every couple of yards another crow appeared, guiding me further along. Go Left. Go Right. Go Straight. Take another left. Finally... I have come to a door. An actual fucking door. Built into the side of a hill. I stood there staring at it. Gerald landed beside me. "You have a fucking dungeon?" Hmmm. Of course he would. Silly of me to have questioned him. I placed the tiny key into the lock. It fit. Apparently this is my life now. The door opens. Darkness. Cobbled stairs. Torches. FUCKING TORCHES. Gerald has electricity figured out well enough to sabotage mine but chooses TORCHES for an ambient affect. I walked down the cobbled stairs. "Kitten?" Silence. And then... from deep inside the darkness somewhere: "I TOLD YOU GERALD WAS FUCKING EVIL." Oh. My. God. I sprinted toward the voice. And there she was. Behind iron-clad bars. Her hair disheveled looking. Clothes tattered. She is absolutely furious. And pointing at Gerald, who had casually followed behind me. "YOUR FUCKING BIRD KIDNAPPED ME!" "He is not my bird." "HE NAMED YOU KING!" Valid. Gerald flew onto a nearby table. Kitten glared at him. I glared at him. Gerald stared back. Silence. Then... Hmmm. "Don't you fucking 'hmmm' me, Gerald." He nodded toward the cell. And before I could ask what the hell that meant— SLAM. The door to the dungeon behind me closed. I turned around. Another crow stood beside a lever. ... Those clever tiny bastards. I looked towards Kitten. Kitten looked towards me. Then we both looked at Gerald. Gerald puffed his feathers. And then he walked slowly toward us. One tiny, petrifying step at a time. Whatever Gerald had planned... we are officially part of it now. And somewhere above us... the entire crow army began bellowing. END PART I.

Gerald Lopez, 20, Deming, was sentenced to 101 months in prison after admitting he possessed a machinegun in furtherance of cocaine trafficking and fled a U.S. Border Patrol checkpoint, leading agents on a pursuit that reached approximately 140 mph on Interstate 10. @ATFPhoenix investigated the firearms offense in partnership with the New Mexico State Police. The U.S. Border Patrol El Paso Sector is investigating the immigration-related offense. The Las Cruces Branch Office of the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the District of New Mexico is prosecuting the case. See full news release at