CHAPTER 42
I didn’t make it back to the courtroom as I spent quite a bit of time on my knees, trying to throw up my breakfast along with all the years of hate and fear. So many hackneyed images still hold truth in them, and mine was that of pushing against the locked door, which opens suddenly, and collapse is inevitable.

I could still feel his eyes on me, and the worst part of it all was that he didn’t seem to recall me immediately. I could almost read his mind: ‘Which rape was that one? Oh, yes. All coming back to me now’.

Jerry Tanner has a a lot of experience with games, but can he survive being caught in a game played by the gods?

CHAPTER 41
It got better and better as we counted down the days to the trial, and I ended up with statements from six more of the gang’s victims. Whatever the tariff said about their sentences after a guilty plea, it would end up in pieces once we were done.

Other things were better than I could ever have dreamt of, and no, I am not talking about me and a certain large man. It was Dad. He had really clicked with Blake, and I was almost feeling jealous, as the relationship was clearly mutual, and my own father seemed to be stealing time with Blake I wanted for myself.

Sod it! Life was good, not just bearable. I just wished Blake could have talked to me about the investigation.

I decided to try out a new style of writing. Sorry that I haven't posted anything. I've been doing a crap ton of readin'.

The Angel of Chicago

Part Twelve: Agreement

by

Rodford Edmiston

"We've pulling back from our efforts," said General Conyers, sourly. "Delaying the schedule. They've learned about the repository, but only from documents more than thirty years old. They have no idea what we're doing now, and we must do what we can to reduce the chance of them finding out."

Jerry Tanner has a a lot of experience with games, but can he survive being caught in a game played by the gods?

Interview with a rager

The security officer unlocked and opened the heavy door to the isolation cell. Inside there was a person, curled up on in the corner on the far side. There was nothing else in the room, no chair, no bed, no toilet.

“Get up you dammed heathen, Mrs. Carson is here to talk at you,” the guard barked, walking over and using the end of his nightstick to punch the prisoner in the kidney. When he didn’t move, the guard drew the baton back to deliver a full power blow. He turned his head when he was prevented from completing the swing.

So this is my first attempt at writing a story for the Whateley Universe. I originally started this several years ago but after a few chapters I found myself with serious writers block. Recent stories on here and on the Whateley site have encouraged me to reattempt the story. This is only the prologue. There is hopefully much more to come. Of course any help would be appreciated and if you spot any mistakes or issues don't hesitate to let me know. I will apologise in advance if I have made any mistakes with the lore.

And here is the final chapters of The Unfortunate Experiences of Mike Cross. The story has come to its end, and hopefully one that everybody likes.