As explained in my previous post, I participate in Twitter hashtag games, and bulk those tweets up for Instagram…and sometimes they’re too big. So, instead of deleting them, I decided to post them here.

Original Tweet (the prompt was the word #forgive):

“It was all a stupid misunderstanding, a horrible accident…you have to forgive me, please!” he begged, tears streaming down his face, but his plea fell on deaf ears. The blood on his hands spoke louder than his words ever could.

The too large for Instagram remix:

He stood before me, his words desperate, pleading for forgiveness. But my heart remained hardened, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

The night was dark and stormy and we were driving back from a late-night party, laughing and joking. He was behind the wheel and I rode shotgun. The rain came down in sheets, blurring our vision. And then the entire world changed in a split second.

In the middle of telling a story, he took his hands off the steering wheel and his eyes off the road. Our car skidded on the slick road, spinning out of control, and finally came to a stop when we crashed into a tree, the impact shattering the windshield. I was disoriented, covered in broken glass, and bleeding from cuts and bruises. But that was nothing compared to the horror I saw when I turned to look at him.

He was in shock, blood on his hands, his face white as a sheet. And lying in front of the car was a lifeless body. A pedestrian who won the unlucky lottery of being caught between the car and the tree.

Time stood still. At first, I couldn’t comprehend what had just happened, and as the reality of the situation sank in, although I knew it was an accident, I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive him.

He begged and pleaded with me, tears streaming down his face, as he tried to explain that it had been a horrible accident, a stupid misunderstanding. But his words fell on deaf ears. The blood on his hands spoke louder than any words ever could.

In the days and weeks that followed, guilt and remorse crushed him. He couldn’t sleep, eat, or find any peace. He tried to make amends, offering to compensate the victim’s family, seeking therapy, and doing everything he could to atone for his mistake. But I still couldn’t bring myself to forgive him.

As time passed, I realized that forgiveness was not something that could be forced or rushed. It was a personal journey, a process that needed time and healing. And while I couldn’t forgive him immediately, I also couldn’t forget the love we had shared, the memories we had made together.

Years went by, and he remained a constant presence in my life. We never rekindled our relationship, but we remained connected in some way, bound by the tragic events of that fateful night. He continued to seek forgiveness, not just from me, but from himself as well.

And then one day, something shifted within me. I found myself thinking about the past with less anger and resentment. I realized that holding onto the pain and anger was not serving me anymore. It was time to let go, not just for his sake, but for my own.

I reached out to him, and we met in person on a night reminiscent of that of the accident. He was hesitant, unsure of what I would say. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw the deep remorse and regret that had haunted him for years. And in that moment, I found it in my heart to forgive him. It wasn’t easy, and the wounds were still there, but forgiveness was a step toward healing.

We parted ways with a sense of closure, knowing that we had both learned valuable lessons from this tragic experience. And as I left the diner, the rain was coming down in sheets, blurring my vision. And then my entire world changed in a split second when I was caught in the headlights of a car spinning out of control.

By way of explanation: I sometimes participate in Twitter hashtag games, and because I can’t leave well enough alone, I will take those tweets and bulk them up for Instagram. The problem is sometimes I bulk them up to the point that they’re too big for the ‘Gram. So, instead of deleting them, as I usually do, I’ve decided to post them here. What’s the sense of having a writer’s blog if I can’t post my scribbles?

Original Tweet (the prompt word was #grow):

I do not smoke, nor am I an arsonist; however, I am never without matches, for it is the only time I get to see my late daughter’s face as the flame grows taller, her hair all aflame, just like it always was in the sunlight.

The too large for Instagram remix:

As the sun set behind the horizon, casting an orange glow over the sky, I found myself once again standing in front of the fireplace, a matchbox clutched tightly in my hand. I do not smoke, nor am I an arsonist, but I am never without matches. For in the flickering flames, I catch a glimpse of my late daughter’s face, her hair all aflame, just like it always was in the sunlight.

Tragic was the accident that stole my daughter from me. A fire raged through our home, consuming everything in its path, and even my daughter, so full of life, proved insufficient to satiate its gluttonous appetite. The pain of losing a child is indescribable, a pain that hollowed out my soul and left a void in my heart that a multiverse of galaxies could never fill.

In her death’s aftermath, my loneliness and despair drew me to fire. I wanted to confront her killer, make it explain why it had chosen her instead of me. But I proved no match for the dancing flames that held a mesmerizing power over me, and I would often spend hours staring into the flickering embers, lost in memories of my precious girl. And in my obsession, my mind had surely snapped, for when I struck a match one lonely night, I saw her again, her face glowing in the warm light.

The moment was fleeting, a brief glimpse of her smile as the match caught fire. But as time went on, the visions became more vivid. I could see her clearly, her bright blue eyes, her curly golden hair, and I could even hear her infectious laughter. Did my daughter, clever as her mother, somehow find a way to reach out from beyond the veil and communicate with me through the flames?

At first, I was consumed by grief and guilt in finding solace in this destructive thing that held no regard for innocent human life. But the more I tried to resist, the stronger the pull became. It was as if my daughter was urging me to embrace the fire, to find meaning in the flames.

I may have been mad, but I was no fool. I kept my newfound obsession a secret, because I was all too aware of what others would think, others whose children were still among the living. So, in secret, I continued to strike matches, watching the flames dance and listening to the crackling sounds. The visions of my daughter brought both comfort and torment, a bittersweet reminder of the love we had shared and the pain of her absence.

One day, as I stood by the fireplace lost in thought, I was startled by a knock on the door. It was a detective, investigating a recent string of arson cases in the area. He had received a tip about my matches and wanted to know if I had any information.

I denied any involvement, explaining that I used the matches for comfort, to remember my daughter. The detective looked at me with a mix of sympathy and suspicion. He couldn’t understand why I would find solace in something that had caused so much destruction.

As he left, I felt a surge of anger. How dare he question my motives? He couldn’t possibly understand the pain I carried, the emptiness that gnawed at my soul. I struck a match in defiance, watching the flames grow taller, my daughter’s face appearing in the midst of the fire.

But this time, the vision was different. My daughter’s face was not smiling, but twisted in anguish. The flame wasn’t large enough; she was suffocating in the confined space. She called out to me, begging for my help, pleading with me to atone for my sin of not living up to my parental responsibilities of protecting her at all costs.

She needed to be set free, but in order to cross over, to come back home where she belonged, she required a fire as large as the one that ferried her into that fiery afterlife. And I would start that fire. I knew the perfect place to use as kindling.

Read Part One Here / Read Part Two Here / Read Part Three Here

As the guards raced from one staged crisis to another, Joey’s phone buzzed with an unexpected text message from his now-former boss, Jaclyn. Her suspicions had been raised by his sudden disappearance during his PAUTU abduction, the security logs showed his keycard was used to gain entry after normal work hours, the alarm system was indicating a security breach, and the cameras were all offline. As he read her message, demanding to know his whereabouts, his heart raced.

“It’s Jaclyn,” Joey told Lexy and Boomzie. “I didn’t realize she’d still be here this late. I need to go see her.”

“It’s a double cross!” Boomzie said. “I knew we couldn’t trust you!”

“Don’t be stupid! I need to stall her,” Joey barked. “I’ll try to buy you as much time as I can.”

Joey didn’t bother waiting for their response. He hurried toward Jaclyn’s office, racking his brain for a plausible explanation for his presence. Taking a deep breath, Joey knocked on the door to Jaclyn’s office, and when she called for him to enter, he stepped inside, wearing a look of concern.

“Ja — I mean, Boss…” Joey wanted to slap himself for almost calling her by her name. A name he shouldn’t know.

“What did you call me?”

“I—I was going to say Janice,” he stammered, his voice tense. “I was thinking about my mother. Long story, but there’s no time for that now. I came as soon as I heard about the security breach.”

“A breach that happened right after you arrived. After hours. You’re never here at this time.”

“I came to make up my hours.”

Jaclyn’s eyes narrowed, and she set down the pen she was holding. “Why exactly did you miss work yesterday? And why didn’t you call in or return any of my messages?”

Joey hesitated for a moment, trying to look as if he was collecting his thoughts. “I had a family emergency that I couldn’t discuss with anyone. I didn’t want to involve the company in my personal matters.”

“Funny how your personal matter happened to coincide with the only day the protestors decided not to show up since they began their attack against our company.”

“What are you suggesting? That I’m colluding with the PAUTU? All due respect, Boss, but are you insane? They hate me, me personally, more than they hate you or your company! They’ve made it their mission to systematically destroy my reputation and my life! How dare you…!”

“Calm yourself, Mr. MacDonal. I’m merely trying to ascertain what’s going on here. You do have to admit the timing is interesting.”

“All right, but we can discuss all this later and if you want to interrogate me, fine, knock yourself out. But right now we have a potential security breach on our hands. Maybe it’s a false alarm, but better safe than sorry.”

“The security is handling the matter,” Jaclyn said, not entirely convinced. “And what exactly can you do to help with this situation?”

Joey thought quickly. “Well, first, we need to make sure everyone in the building is safe. I can help coordinate with the security team to lock down the facility and ensure no unauthorized personnel can get in or out. Then, I can work on finding out who’s behind the breach and make sure they don’t cause any more damage.”

Jaclyn studied him for a moment. “Fine, but I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, Mr. MacDonal. One wrong move, and you’ll regret the day you decided to cross me.”

Joey nodded, feigning relief. “Copy that, Boss.”

***

During the planning stage of the heist, Marlene knew they would need a vehicle large enough to transport the unicorns safely, and she had just the place in mind. Earlier in the week, she scoped out a nearby construction site, noticing several heavy-duty trucks that would be perfect for their mission. She made a mental note of the site’s security measures and knew she could get in and out without raising any alarms.

On the night of the heist, before making a move on the butchery, Marlene and Glitcher approached the construction site, dressed in dark clothing to blend in with the shadows. Glitcher pulled out her laptop, quickly tapping into the site’s security network and disabling the cameras and motion detectors for a brief period.

They slipped through the chain-link fence and Marlene spotted the vehicle they needed—a large, flatbed truck with tall sides, perfect for keeping the unicorns hidden during their escape. She approached the driver’s side door, pulling a lock-picking kit from her pocket. Within moments, she had the door open, and they climbed inside.

Glitcher plugged a small device into the truck’s ignition, overriding the security system and allowing Marlene to start the engine without a key. They drove the truck carefully out of the construction site and toward the butchery, making sure to avoid any security cameras or police patrols along the way.

***

Flexy Lexy and Boomzie guided the unicorns off the freight elevator and into the loading bay where Marlene had parked the “borrowed” truck. They expertly herded the creatures onto the truck, ensuring that they were as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Marlene sat in the cab, anxiously scanning the area for any signs of trouble. She noticed that Joey wasn’t with them. “Where’s Joey Mac?” she asked, her voice tense.

“He went to see Jaclyn,” Lexy replied. Marlene’s expression darkened, and she jumped to the conclusion that Joey had set them up. Lexy quickly reassured her, “No, he’s buying us time, keeping her distracted.”

Marlene hesitated for a moment, then instructed Lexy and Boomzie, “Hop in the van with Glitcher. I’ll pull out first, you follow behind. If this gets hairy, I may need you to run interference for me.”

“So, we’re ditching him?” asked Boomzie.

“You developing a soft spot?”

“Not at all. Just never been a fan of leaving a man behind, if he’s on the up and up. If he’s not, screw him. Problem with that is: he knows where we’re holed up.”

“One crisis at a time, Boomz,” Marlene said. “Besides, there’s no point in staying. We’ve got what we came here for. Butcher boy can find his own way from here.”

Marlene turned the key, and the truck’s engine rumbled to life. She shifted gears and eased her foot onto the gas pedal, slowly maneuvering the large vehicle out of the loading bay. Once she made it onto the main road, she picked up speed, heading back to their base.

Constantly checking her rearview mirror to ensure they weren’t being followed, the only thing Marlene saw was Glitcher’s van keeping a comfortable distance… and some idiot running at breakneck speed on the sidewalk, waving his arms in a desperate attempt to flag her down. An idiot who bore a striking resemblance to an infamous butcher of unicorns.

Marlene slammed on the brakes, the truck screeching to a halt. The sudden stop caused the vehicle to jolt, and Marlene gripped the steering wheel tightly to maintain control. Joey reached the truck, his face flushed and his chest heaving from the exertion, and Marlene swung open the passenger side door, allowing him to clamber into the cab.

As Joey settled into the seat beside her, still catching his breath, he asked, “You were really going to leave me?”

“I stopped for you, didn’t I?” Marlene replied, her voice firm but not unkind, before shifting gears and resuming their escape.

As they drove away, Joey pulled out his phone to call Jaclyn. Marlene eyed him suspiciously and reached for the phone, but before she could stop him, Jaclyn answered.

“Jaclyn,” Joey panted, “I quit!”

Marlene relaxed slightly, but then she was struck by a thought. “You know, if she’s the only one who knows how to get that uniform off you, and you no longer work for her, I guess that means you’re kind of stuck with it, no pun intended.”

Joey let out a small, humorless laugh. “I can’t be sure she was telling the truth in the first place, but if she knows, that means someone else does too. So, I’ll keep searching until I find a way.”

Marlene nodded. “You’ll figure it out. And hey, at least it looks pretty cool.”

Joey sighed. “Yeah, but there are some… practical issues to deal with.”

“Like what?” Marlene asked, curious.

“Well, for starters, I haven’t been able to wash since I got this thing on. And you don’t even want to know about the bathroom situation,” Joey admitted, grimacing.

“So, that’s grafted to you all over?”

“Every. Single. Inch.”

“Now you’ve got me curious, but you’re right, I probably don’t want to know the intimate details. I do have one question for you, though.”

“Shoot.”

“What’s it like being a walking Ken doll?” Marlene couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Shut up and drive.”

***

In the days and weeks following their daring rescue, the PAUTU team worked relentlessly, leaving no stone unturned in their efforts to secure a safe and nurturing sanctuary for the rescued unicorns. They reached out to and collaborated with animal sanctuaries, wildlife conservation organizations, and experts from all around the globe, working tirelessly to ensure that each of the creatures would be provided with a secure and caring environment in which to thrive.

As for Jaclyn Hailee Dean, she found herself facing a storm of public outrage, fueled by the PAUTU’s exposure of her inhumane treatment of the unicorns. In response to the public outcry, lawmakers were compelled to scrutinize the existing regulations, ultimately passing new legislation that imposed strict guidelines for the ethical treatment of mythical creatures. Jaclyn’s butchery was shut down, as it failed to meet the newly established standards. Additionally, she was forced to pay hefty fines and reparations for her actions, which were now deemed unlawful. As for the PAUTU, they leveraged public support to avoid criminal theft charges, arguing that their actions had been in the best interest of the unicorns and had ultimately led to positive changes in the industry. The downfall of Jaclyn’s business served as a warning to others who might consider engaging in the dark trade of unicorn butchering.

In the aftermath of the heist and the subsequent changes in the unicorn industry, Joey found himself at a crossroads. Although he was now in the PAUTU’s good graces, his reputation as a butcher had been tarnished, and the public was not always quick to forgive acts of animal cruelty. However, Joey saw this as an opportunity for a fresh start and a chance to reinvent himself.

Realizing that his skills as a butcher could be put to better use, Joey decided to use his knowledge and expertise to advocate for animal welfare and ethical practices in the food industry. With the support of the PAUTU and leveraging his insider’s perspective, Joey began giving talks and workshops, sharing his experiences to raise awareness about the treatment of animals and the need for more humane practices.

Over time, Joey’s dedication and commitment to this cause helped to rebuild his reputation. Although some still viewed him with skepticism, many appreciated his efforts to make amends for his past actions and recognized the value of his unique perspective in the ongoing fight for animal welfare. Slowly but surely, Joseph MacDonal II, Joey Mac to his pals, former enemy of the world, was able to forge a new path for himself, driven by his newfound passion and purpose.

The End

Read Part One Here / Read Part Two Here

Joey’s life was spiraling out of control, and the icing on the cake happened when he was leaving his shop after a long day of work. As he headed for his car, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a suspicious man dressed in black, watching him intently. Alarmed, Joey picked up his pace.

As he turned a corner, a loud bang echoed through the street, and a section of the wall next to his face exploded. Brick fragments peppered his face, stinging but not blinding him. Fear overrode shock, and Joey darted into a nearby alley, seeking cover from the maniac taking potshots at him.

Joey was fortunate; this wasn’t one of those dead-end alleys—at least, not in the conventional sense. However, the man in black was far quicker than him and rapidly closed the gap between them. The gun fired several more times, but Joey assumed he wasn’t hit because he didn’t feel any pain, so he continued to navigate deeper into the complex network of alleys. His heart hammered in his chest, and adrenaline fueled his every move. He spotted a stack of wooden crates and, with a forceful kick, sent them crashing to the ground, forming a makeshift barricade that momentarily blocked the man in black’s pursuit. Muffled curses and the sound of the assassin scrambling over the debris filled the air.

Spotting his car parked at the end of the alley, Joey sprinted towards it, his legs aching and lungs burning. Desperate to escape the relentless pursuit, he fumbled with his keys and flung the car door open. As Joey climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut, he thought he had made it.

But he was wrong.

As he reached for the ignition, he was caught off guard by a sudden blow from behind. A figure, hidden in the back seat, had clobbered him. The world went dark as Joey’s consciousness slipped away.

***

“And then I woke up here,” Joey said.

The woman took a long moment to process everything in Joey’s story before speaking. “So, let me get this straight. You’re saying that uniform is made from a unicorn hide and you were tricked into wearing it?”

“I’m no fashion plate, but this definitely ain’t my style.”

“And you can’t take it off because it’s grafted to your skin?”

“See for yourself.”

Her curiosity piqued, the woman got up from her seat, approached Joey cautiously, and began to examine the edges of the uniform. She tugged at it, attempting to pull it away from his skin, and he winced, but the uniform remained firmly attached.

“Boss said…”

“Boss?”

“That’s what I call the woman I work for,” Joey said. “She refuses to tell me her name.”

“Jaclyn Hailee Dean.”

“Really? How did you…?”

“We have ways.”

“And how about you? What’s your name?”

“You can call me Marlene.”

“Okay, Marlene… the reason I took the job was because Dean—uh, Boss, that’s gonna take some getting used to—said she knew how to remove the uniform and agreed to do it if I signed and fulfilled a fixed-term contract.”

“Just because I can’t explain how a pearlescent uniform made from the hide of unicorns can graft itself to your skin doesn’t mean I can trust or should trust you. You’ve been butchering unicorns. That goes against everything I stand for.”

“Were you there, on the picket line?” Joey asked.

“Every single day.”

“Do you remember the first day when I came to work and saw the protest for the first time?”

“I certainly do.”

“This might be asking a bit much, but do you remember how long I stood there and watched your group? Did you happen to notice the expression I had on my face? My mother says I have no poker face. You can see what I’m feeling plain as day. Do you recall that Dean had to come outside and drag me into the building?”

Marlene hesitated before answering, “Yes, to all of that.”

“You have no idea how much I wanted to join your protest, how much this job has flushed my life down the toilet.”

“Choices have consequences.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joey said, unable to meet Marlene’s eyes. “What I’ve done is terrible. But I can’t turn back time and undo any of it. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to make amends.”

“You could have done that at any time. Hell, you could have said no from the start. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Having someone trying to kill you is an excellent eye-opener.”

“We didn’t sanction that,” Marlene admitted. “Someone got a little carried away and took matters into their own hands. We caught up with him, and he’s been corrected.”

“Do I want to know what that means?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Copy that,” Joey said. “So, what happens to me now, Marlene? I told you I’m down with your cause. Do you believe me, or do I need to be corrected too?” He meant that last bit to sound more confident than it came out.

Marlene studied Joey’s face, searching for any signs of deceit. After a long pause, she finally said, “All right, Joey Mac. I’ll take a gamble on you, but know this: if it even looks like you’re going to betray us, we’ll help you remove that shiny uniform of yours the hard way.”

“Copy that. Now, do you have the key to these cuffs? I’d really like the feeling to return to my hands.”

***

Unicorn rescue acquaints a man with strange bedfellows, and as night fell over the city, Joey Mac and his newfound allies from the PAUTU prepared to liberate a stable of mythical creatures from the clutches of the ruthless businesswoman, Boss née Jaclyn Hailee Dean.

Marlene gathered everyone around a table covered in blueprints and photographs of Jaclyn Hailee Dean’s butchery.

“All right, everyone, listen up,” Joey began, his voice filled with mock confidence and determination in hopes of earning the respect of the activists. “Tonight, we’re going to pull off the biggest rescue operation this city has ever seen. And we’re going to do it in style.”

“Just a sec,” Marlene said. “Who put you in charge?”

“Show of hands, who here has actually been inside the building, knows the physical layout, and actually has keycard access?” Joey said, putting his hand up and looking around the table for someone to join him. When no one did, he continued, “I think that answers your question. And since I’m the new guy here, maybe we should go around the table and introduce ourselves. You all know me, of course.”

The team members were handpicked by Marlene for their unique skills and expertise. There was Glitcher, the tech-savvy hacker; FlimFlam, the charming con artist; Flexy Lexy, the agile gymnast; and Boom-Boom, the explosives expert.

“So, I’m the only person with a real name here?” Joey asked.

“You want a code name? How about Butchie?” said Flexy Lexy. “Ooo, or Chop Sucky, what do you think?”

Joey cut the gymnast a look. “Joey Mac’ll be fine, thanks.”

With Marlene’s help, Joey outlined the plans for the heist which began as night fell, with Glitcher sitting in the back of a nondescript van parked near the butchery. Her fingers flew across the keys of her laptop as she breached the butchery’s security network with ease. With each keystroke, she disabled the security cameras and alarms one by one, rendering the building’s security team blind and oblivious.

Outside the butchery, FlimFlam received Glitcher’s green light signal through a subtle earpiece. He strode inside like a man with a purpose, wearing a perfectly tailored suit and carrying a clipboard, the picture of professionalism. As he approached the front desk, he flashed a confident smile and presented his forged health inspector credentials.

The guard on duty examined the documents and FlimFlam, master of persuasion that he was, kept up a steady stream of conversation, regaling the guard with anecdotes of past health inspections gone awry and the hefty fines imposed on those who failed to comply with regulations.

Meanwhile, Flexy Lexy and Boomzie, dressed in form-fitting all-black stealth gear, approached the butchery from a secluded alleyway. They moved with practiced precision, using grappling hooks to scale the outside wall and reach the rooftop. Safely on top, they located the access hatch Joey had mentioned in their planning session, and carefully opened it.

Inside, they navigated the dark, cramped air ducts, aided by their flashlights and guided by Joey’s whispered directions through their earpieces. They managed to make their way through the labyrinthine network of ducts.

When they reached their destination, Flexy Lexy gripped the edges of the vent cover, carefully removed it, and lowered herself into the room where the unicorns were being held. Fluid and graceful, she dropped to the floor, landing on the grass carpeting without a sound.

Along the way, Boomzie placed several explosives at strategic locations. He remained poised in the air duct, ready to create the necessary diversion at a moment’s notice. His hands hovered over the detonator, and when she gave the nod, the bomber triggered a series of muffled explosions that echoed through the building.

At the same time, Glitcher reactivated the butchery’s security system, setting off a cacophony of alarms and flashing lights. The combination of the alarms and the sound of the explosions threw the guards into a state of chaos and confusion. They panicked and scrambled to investigate the source of the disturbance.

Joey accessed the building with his keycard, stopping briefly to chat with the guards at the various security checkpoints just as he had done every day of his employment. When he reached the room marked “Unicorn Holding,” he found Flexy Lexy and Boomzie already there, awestruck by the sight. The entire space had been transformed to resemble a peaceful meadow, complete with artificial grass, trees, and even a small stream that trickled softly through the room.

The unicorns were huddled together in a corner, eyeing the two PAUTU members with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Though they shied away when the pair approached, their reaction to Joey was entirely different. As he stepped closer, the unicorns seemed to regard him as one of their own.

Noticing their bewildered expressions, Joey explained, “It’s the uniform. Maybe it makes them think I’m one of them.”

“Can you talk to them?” asked Lexy.

“Well, no, not in words exactly, but we understand each other.”

“Then Dr. Doolittle this thing and let’s get the hell out of here before the guards decide to check this room,” Boomzie said.

Joey calmed himself and reached out with his mind, broadcasting a series of images of Flexy Lexy and Boomzie frolicking in a field filled with unicorns.

Gradually, the unicorns allowed Flexy Lexy and Boomzie to come closer. Joey shared a moment of silent gratitude with the majestic creatures as he continued to reassure them because the most difficult and time-consuming part of the plan still lay before them. Somehow, amidst the chaos of blaring sirens, they had to lead the bewildered and disoriented unicorns through the labyrinth of hallways to the bank of freight elevators.

Not. The. End.