As Dynamite and I continued our conversation, the fire bell suddenly went off. I sprinted inside, and she quickly got out of her car.

While I was pulling on my bunker gear trousers, I glanced over at Dynamite. She was kicking off her shoes and slipping into her boots, pulling up the trousers and securing the suspenders.

“Dynamite, Dynamite. let’s go!” I shouted. “All right. Somebody call Madeline a cab!”

Without missing a beat, Dynamite shot back, “Shut up.”

As I climbed onto the ladder truck and we sped down the street, I couldn't shake the conversation I had with Dynamite. It's heartbreaking how many parents try to dictate their children's lives, micromanaging every detail like overbearing helicopter parents. Giving direction is one thing, but controlling every aspect of their lives is another.

My dad was different. He'd either warn me not to do something or encourage me to try it. If I came crying to him afterward, he'd say, "Well, I told you not to do it, but you still did," or "Well now, you won’t do that again, will you?" He believed in letting me learn from my own experiences, even if it meant making mistakes.

My dad is a mistake-learning parent, meaning he’s the type who believes that people and kids should make mistakes so they aren't bound to repeat them. To him parents who shield their kids from the real world then said kids are in for a rude awakening when they try something they shouldn’t

Parents like Dynamite's, who go overboard in their attempts to protect and control, often miss the point. It's about guiding and supporting, not dictating and stifling. As we raced to the scene, I hoped Dynamite would find the strength to keep standing up for herself and carving her own path.

____________________

An hour later, Dynamite and I were combing through a room, looking for hidden hot spots. I told her she wasn't alone in dealing with crazy family members. I shared that I have some relatives whose parents make you wonder, "What is wrong with you?"

When she asked for clarification, I explained that I have family members who refuse to attend weddings to avoid hurting someone else's feelings. Or tell people not to go to a baby shower because another daughter got divorced.

Dynamite agreed it was messed up, pointing out that some people only have one child, so there won't be future baby showers, and some marriages last a lifetime, so there won't be another wedding or bachelor/bachelorette party.

I told her about relatives who have step-parents that pull the "Postpone or redo the wedding when we get back from vacation" card. They're not popular in the Waterson family. When asked why they missed the wedding, they lie and say they weren't invited. In this digital age, many send invitations via paper, text, or email and can prove it with screenshots if someone deletes the message.

I mentioned how some family members choose to go on vacation during important events, leaving just days before a wedding. It's frustrating, but it happens. I also shared how some relatives cancel or don't attend important events, making it clear that family dynamics can be complicated and challenging.

I even told her about some family members who had fiancés or fiancées who hated them for working a job they enjoy. These fiancés or fiancées get shocked when they get kicked out and have their ring taken back because they are the kind who work ungodly hours to provide for them. These fiancés or fiancées treat their breakup like a game and stay until the Waterson pulls out legal threats. The Watersons also pull the “No wedding, no ring” card. Many female Watersons break up with guys who treat them badly because we look for an equal partner, not a jerk. Many male Watersons have dated and married women who have secret diaries saying how they never listen to their wives or ask why they can’t get a normal job.

Dynamite told me that people usually want to find jobs that make them happy. She said if I have family members who are happy leaving the house around 11 PM to pick up trash and come back home around 8 AM or 9 AM, then their spouse should love them for doing a job to keep the streets clean. Everyone has the right to do what they want to do, and many people have to take jobs they don’t want to do to provide. It depends on the person. But she also said some people fall in love with the idea of someone, not who they really are.

Dynamite even shared how some people have secret relationships behind their partner's back, so when they break up, they already have another place to go. She said many people shouldn't be in relationships because they treat them like games, expecting so much and then just moving on to the next partner when things don't go their way, restarting the cycle.

She also mentioned how some people thought she and Avalanche were a couple. While they did have feelings for each other, they talked it through. When they brought it up to my girlfriend, Lusty, she appreciated their honesty but reminded them of the fire department policy: no two firefighters can be in a relationship at the same firehouse. Lusty told them that if they were serious about dating, one of them would have to transfer to another firehouse or switch shifts to B, C, or D.

After a long discussion, Dynamite and Avalanche decided it was best to remain friends. Lusty took it as them being friends on shift and possibly dating off shift, but she and the department can't dictate their actions outside of work.

Dynamite even mentioned how people sometimes saw her and Avalanche having dinner together or hanging out at a bar and grill. Those who saw them had mixed opinions—some thought they were dating off shift, while others believed they were just friends catching up. There's no law against two friends going out together, even though many, including Lusty, lean towards the former. But people generally keep an open mind and don't ask because it's none of their business.

I told her that her parents aren't typical because most parents are the kind their kids can run to if they're in danger or need support. I shared how some of my family members have a necklace that's passed down from one woman to another for their first marriage. However, some relatives think the necklace should go to the person getting married, even if the current holder is already married, which can be insensitive. Some even use their "golden child's" struggles to guilt-trip others, but other Watersons tell them to stop with the guilt trips.

I also mentioned how some Watersons have spouses who shouldn't be married to them because these spouses expect their kids to move on immediately after losing a loved one. Family dynamics can be really complicated and challenging.

Dynamite shared that her entire family is like that. She told me about a time when she got badly hurt and needed to be in the hospital for round-the-clock care. Her parents tried to get her checked out of the hospital and even threatened to sue the hospital for violating their parental rights.

They did sue, but the judge reviewed her injuries and had a third-party medical expert explain that she needed to stay in the hospital or she could have died. Her family never visited her while she was there, but the moment she was well enough to be discharged, they wanted her to work at the family business and babysit their kids.

She also mentioned how her family loves to go on vacation but always brings someone along to babysit the kids. She wouldn't be surprised if she had to watch her cousins, nephews, or nieces while her family enjoyed their vacation. These kids are the type who scream bloody murder if they don't get what they want and throw tantrums if they're told no.

To me, Dynamite’s family overall sounds like they could do four or five seasons of Jerry Springer. She went on about how her entire family needs serious help. Sure, it's normal for families to bring their kids on vacation, but forcing someone to babysit them while they miss out on all the fun? That's just wrong.

I told Dynamite that most of my family members bring their kids on vacation but watch their own kids. If they can't, they hire a babysitter or a nanny. They don't drag another family member along just to make them babysit. It's unfair to expect someone to have fun on vacation when they're stuck watching other people's kids.

I also shared how some Watersons set clear boundaries. They make it crystal clear that they will not waste their time babysitting kids on vacation. Even a newborn would understand that they’re there to enjoy themselves, not to be a free babysitter.

Soon, Lusty walked into the room to check on our progress with the hotspots.

“What are you two talking about?” she asked.

“Bad families,” I replied.

“One of my neighbors back in Eastside got remarried and prioritized his new family over his kids. He actually evicted his own kids before they were even of legal age,” Lusty said. “The whole neighborhood tarred and feathered the guy for abandoning his own flesh and blood after their mother died. He had the nerve to kick his own kids out.”

I stayed silent, letting her continue.

“I even had a neighbor who hated when I came out of the closet. She was a homophobic neighbor. She tried to set me up with either her brother or her son,” Lusty added.

Dynamite and I exchanged glances, both of us knowing that family drama can be a real mess.

Lusty really lucked out with her parents. They loved her for who she was and never did anything to make her mad at them. She wishes they were still around, but they've been gone for fourteen years. They were the kind of parents who would literally go to Hell to punch Satan in the face if it meant protecting their kids. They supported her unconditionally, even admitting they had no idea what homosexuality was. Lusty told me it was strange for her to explain to her parents that she likes both genders equally, but they accepted her without hesitation.

Lusty admitted that her parents voiced their concerns when she said she wanted to be a firefighter. They weren't negative about it; it was more of an "Are you sure, honey?" kind of tone. They suggested she focus on music because of her name, Lusty, which she chose as a short form for Lyricist. Even though I don't quite see the connection, I'm not one to argue.

Her parents thought she should pursue a music career, but Lusty refused. She preferred to be an independent musician rather than work in the music industry where record companies and agents take most of the money. Lusty wanted a hardworking career and wasn't interested in entering an industry that didn't align with her values.

We then finished searching for hot spots as I started to begin to walk down the stairs. There were some cracking sounds in which I turned around and part of the floor that Dynamite was standing on gave away in which I grabbed her hand and was able to pull her up.

Dynamite thanked me for saving her from falling even through the floor.

_________________________

Back at the firehouse, Dynamite asked, “So what’s your plan in more detail?”

I replied, “Basically, follow your parents' plan to get them to the negotiation table before the wedding. Once they agree to sell you their shares in the business, you take over. Give them what they’re owed for the shares, hand them the check, and get them to sign over ownership to you. They can then retire comfortably, unless they blow through the money quickly. After they accept the buyout, go to the guy you’re supposed to marry, give him the ring back, and tell him it’s not you, it’s him. Then leave faster than a bat out of hell.”

Dynamite shared, “The only creative item I had my parents allow on the menu was a crispy chicken sandwich.”

Curious, I asked, “What’s that?”

She explained, “I get a bag of plain flour, fine cornmeal, curry seasoning, and baking powder. I pre-cook the chicken before frying it. After I precook the chicken, I put individual pieces into the crispy batter I made and fry them up.”

“Sounds good,” I replied, imagining the crunch.

Dynamite continued, “In my time working at the diner, I’ve seen people request sauerkraut on a cheeseburger. But I never judged them.”

I chuckled, “People have some interesting tastes, that’s for sure.”

As we walked around the firehouse, we kept discussing Dynamite's plan. She'd go along with her parents' arranged marriage scheme, get them to the negotiation table, and buy them out. Once they agree and sell their shares, she'd pay them back for retirement. After they get their shares turned into a check or cash, she'd break up with the guy and leave.

I also shared with Dynamite how it's usually the same with bad family members who suddenly want to reconnect after years or even decades of no contact. They're either after money or inheritance, or they need a compatible organ donor. It's rarely about genuinely wanting to reconnect and make amends.

Dynamite nodded, understanding the harsh reality of such situations. "It's sad but true," she said. "People can be so selfish."

"Yeah," I agreed. "But at least you have a plan to take control of your situation. That's what matters."

Dynamite shared a story from when she was fourteen. She bought breakfast from a competitor diner, and their doughnuts were better than her family's. When she mentioned this to her parents, they dismissed it as "hearsay" and almost threatened legal action against her. However, they couldn't do much because it would violate her free speech rights. Plus, she wasn't legally bound by any non-disclosure agreements since she was underage.

She explained that a lawyer could easily tell her that any legal forms she signed were just a bunch of jargon she wouldn't understand, and her parents could twist the meaning to fit their narrative.

Dynamite also admitted that her parents' doughnuts weren't even that good. She said they were the kind that made store-bought ones, which had been on the shelves for a week or two and tasted better in comparison.

Honestly, I have nothing to say about that. But Dynamite mentioned that her parents threatened to cut her pay. She recorded that conversation and talked to the company lawyer about it. Even though the lawyer works for her parents, they admitted that her parents would be violating the Fair Wage Act and her rights as a part-time worker. Even kids who work for family need to be paid their fair share, so withholding pay for expressing her voice and opinion is a crime.

Dynamite mentioned that if her parents had refused to pay her, she could have stopped working until they paid what she was owed. Even as an adult, she could have used that to sue them, since withholding pay violates federal law. The law is clear: people who work must be paid what they’re owed, and withholding pay for unjust reasons is grounds for a lawsuit.

Dynamite started to like my plan more and more. She realized she could control the narrative, making her parents believe she was willing to go along with their plan. Before the wedding, she could bring them to the negotiating table and convince them to sell their shares and stocks to her, giving her complete ownership. She would pay them what their shares are worth, and once they see that payday and get their money, they could retire. Then, she could break up with the guy and call off the wedding.

If her parents insisted on the marriage happening before the negotiation, she could get the marriage annulled later, claiming she was under duress. Even though it's an arranged marriage, it could be annulled or end in divorce anyway.

Dynamite then said my idea was better because she had considered just changing her first name and transferring to another fire company, either in the city of Empire or somewhere in Little Bird. But she knew her parents might go to the extreme of hiring a private investigator to find her and report her location back to them. This would just repeat the cycle of her parents trying to force her into a marriage she isn’t comfortable with.

She doesn’t know the guy her parents want her to marry; she only knows he’s rich and next in line to take over his parents' restaurant chain. Unlike Dynamite’s parents, whose restaurant chain is private, this guy is the successor to a family company. In reality, Dynamite feels like the marriage would be more of a merger, with their union being a contract rather than a genuine relationship.

By following my plan, she could take control of the situation, buy out her parents, and then break off the engagement. This way, she wouldn't have to run or hide, and she could ensure her future on her own terms.

I admitted to Dynamite that I don't fully understand how businesses work, especially when it comes to merging private and public companies through marriage. It seemed like an ethics violation to me. But Dynamite explained that it would be a reverse merger, where a private company buys a public company and it becomes a subsidiary. Even though it’s more or less a public company merging with a private one, not the private one buying out the public ones.

Her explanation made more sense and it was clear she had thought this through. The idea of a reverse merger is actually a common strategy for private companies to go public quickly and with fewer complications than a traditional IPO.

Soon enough, Lusty rounded us up and announced we were heading to the store. We made our way to the Supermarket in the district—the same one where I used to work part-time as a stocker during my days at Arcane University. Those were some hectic nights, especially Mondays and Wednesdays, often working solo. Even when I had company, we’d be on opposite sides of the store, tackling our own sections.

So off we went.

----------------------------------------

The Supermarket.

Lusty asked what we wanted for dinner and lunch, and the majority vote landed on stew. We started roaming the aisles, gathering ingredients for our culinary endeavor.

“Where are the tomatoes?” Avalanche asked.

“In the produce section,” I replied.

I made my way to the deli and picked up eight pounds of provolone cheese, each pound costing 45 cents, along with some other deli meats.

Then, out of nowhere, a voice called out.

“You should be out fighting fires!” a woman exclaimed.

I turned around, “And?”

“Well, I pay your salary,” she retorted.

I replied, “So do 1.5 million other people in the city.”

She huffed and puffed at that.

“Well, since you pay my salary, you shouldn't have any problem covering $3.60 for the provolone cheese, $2.60 for the Havarti cheese, and $7.50 for the ham, peppered turkey, and salami slices.”

She snapped back, “I’m not paying for that!”

“I thought you said you paid my salary?” I shot back, smirking.

I guess my response took her aback.

She launched into a tirade about how this was a misuse of her tax dollars, but I had finally had enough.

“Ma’am, does your job give you lunch breaks?” I asked.

“Yes, it does. I get a one-hour lunch break,” she replied.

“Well, we deserve lunch and dinner as well. We’re human beings, not robots,” I said.

“This is a misuse of my tax dollars,” she insisted.

“How about this—when you go to work, skip your one-hour lunch break. Just work straight through until you get off at 5 PM, then go home and have dinner! Or everyday for now just have breakfast and not have lunch and dinner!” I snapped back.

I guess she didn’t appreciate my attitude and launched into another tirade about it. So, I told her, “If you don’t like my attitude, you can file a complaint with the Fire Department of the City of Empire. My name is Mackenzie Nova Waterson, and my badge number is 198445. You have every right to file a complaint, and I won’t hold it against you.”

She was left speechless. By giving her my full name and badge number, I made it clear that she could file a complaint against me for misconduct or unbecoming behavior. I was ready to fight that complaint because of how snobby she was acting. If she did file a complaint, I’d file one right back against her for being snobby and unprofessional.

She didn’t think I went there but I did and I have no problem with it. But after I got the other few thin sliced lunch meats I then told the woman to take a hike and wasn’t going on a tirade with her but as I started to walk away. She then grabbed my arm but I violently removed it from her grip.

“Listen, lady, I don’t care who you are, so go ahead and file a complaint,” I snarled. “But let me tell you something. I’ve got family members who go to therapists, and their therapists need therapists to deal with what they hear. I’ve got family members who serve our country, only to have their spouses cheat on them while they’re deployed, telling their kids lies that paint them as monsters. I’ve got a cousin who was adopted by parents who constantly compared her to their biological son. She kept her last name, Waterson, and exposed her brother’s fraudulent activities through her journalism job. And I’ve got family members who dated people who seemed nice but only valued them for their possessions. So, I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”

I guess my words struck a nerve because she pulled out a notepad and started writing. I just walked away, figuring she was jotting down my name and badge number. Honestly, I didn’t care.

I returned to my girlfriend and her company, finding our two shopping carts already half full. I told Lusty about the woman who scolded me for “misusing tax dollars” to go shopping. I explained how I told her off, even giving her my full name and badge number so she could file a complaint if she wanted to. Lusty just shook her head, probably amused by the whole situation.

Lusty and the rest of Squad 141 backed me up, saying that we’re entitled to lunch and dinner breaks just like any blue-collar laborer or white-collar office worker. In this country, it’s a federal law that employers must provide breaks, whether paid or unpaid, and firefighters are no exception. Our jobs are physically demanding—carrying 75 pounds of gear isn’t easy—and we need breaks to restore our energy.

Lusty even shared a story about how, in the past, the Fire Department of the City of Empire wanted the firehouses to eat healthier foods like kale. Lusty and many other firefighter officers asked if the city would hire a chef to prepare these healthier meals. When the city said no, they made it clear they weren’t going to survive on just non protein salads and other protein free foods. That’s why some of the veggies in our carts are the ones packed with protein.

We headed to the checkout, and the total came to almost a hundred bucks. As we loaded up the Rescue Engine and Truck company with groceries, I started chatting with Lusty about family.

I told her about some of my family members who’ve dated cheaters. You know, the ones who use classic excuses like, “It was only once,” or blame-shift with, “Since you were out of town, I thought you were cheating, so I had my fun too.” Then there are those who date people glued to social media 24/7. These partners demand the Watersons cancel vacations and take more exotic trips because their “followers need the content.” They insist on staying in fancy hotels that make five-star places look like dumps and visiting scenic spots just for the social media clout.

Us Watersons take that personally. We’re a force to be reckoned with. The female Watersons make a Category 5 hurricane look like a Category 1. We’re not those fake feminists who preach empowerment but secretly compete with other women. No, we’re the real deal—unapologetic and straightforward. The male Watersons are the same way. When we hear about a Waterson lover canceling a vacation because it wasn’t “social media worthy,” we call them an “influencer wannabe.”

Trying to explain video games or social media to people in a country where these things are like science fiction is a challenge. It’s like explaining quantum physics or nuclear physics to an infant.

Of course, some Watersons have broken our personal rule. “You cannot be with a guy’s or gal’s ex-girlfriend, ex-wife, sister, or half-sister, brother, or half-brother without their explicit, crystal-clear permission.” When this rule is violated without asking the family member who broke up with them in the first place, it feels like a backstab, especially when they’re going through a rough patch. This kind of betrayal causes family rifts, and those who break the rule often find themselves uninvited to family gatherings.

Many of us have friends who preach independence and strength, only to backstab us by swooping in on our exes right after a breakup. These so-called friends make calculated moves in orchestrated betrayals, ending friendships in the process.

Lusty even mentioned that the Fire Department of the City of Empire has a similar unwritten rule. She’s not one to break it, even though she did date Zofia a long time ago. Zofia, on the other hand, is the type who would break that rule in a heartbeat, betraying others in a New York second for her own happiness.

It wasn’t long before I heard that same woman’s voice again—the one from the deli who accused us of misusing tax dollars by shopping instead of fighting fires. Lusty didn’t waste any time telling her to hit the road. But when the woman kept on, Lusty handed her the receipt and said, “You can go inside and ask the store to give us our $98 back, and you can pay it.”

Of course, the woman refused, so Lusty told her to mind her own business. She explained that while the fire department is funded by taxes, so are all city services. Lusty even pointed out that this woman was probably the type to berate cops for not patrolling the streets while they’re on their break.

Of course, Lusty got right up in the woman’s face. I think it was her mother bear side showing. Lusty has seven daughters, and she views her company the same way a mother views her children. She didn’t hold back, though she didn’t go on a tirade. Instead, she made it clear that people like this woman, who criticize everything and everyone around them, make life a nightmare.

As we finished loading up the groceries, we overheard Lusty telling the woman that we’re taxpayers too. She wasn’t the only one funding the city; there are 1.5 million hardworking taxpayers in the city. Lusty made it clear that if the woman wanted to file a complaint or a lawsuit, she was welcome to try, but it wouldn’t go far because of how ridiculous it was.

Lusty kept going, telling the woman off. I guess it’s because she comes from a neighborhood where people use their brains. She once told me a story about a neighbor from the Eastside firehouse. They had to leave the checkout line before they could get rung up because of an emergency call. When they got back, they found out that Lusty’s neighbor had paid for their groceries as a form of thank you for what they do every day. But this woman? She wouldn’t do anything like that. All she’s good for is scolding us.

Lusty finally finished telling the woman off, climbed into the officer’s seat, and slammed the door shut. We headed back to quarters, but the way she shut that door told me she still had a few choice words left in her vocabulary.

Since I was riding on the ladder truck and not the engine, I couldn’t really ask her about it. But knowing Lusty, sometimes a punching bag is the best way for her to relieve stress.

________________

Back at the Firehouse

We settled in for lunch, and I made myself a peppered turkey sandwich with provolone and Havarti cheese. I made Lusty the same, minus the provolone.

While we were out in the apparatus bay, I mentioned that the woman from the store was probably a “Trixie.” Lusty asked me what a “Trixie” was, so I explained. “Trixies” are social-climbing, marriage-minded, money-hungry young women who flock to upwardly mobile neighborhoods. The term originated in the 1990s in Chicago. I also told her it could describe a blonde, late-twenties woman with a ponytail who works in PR or marketing, drives a black Jetta, gets manicures, and orders no-foam skim lattes. Then I cursed National Geographic for making me know the latter part.

Soon, a car pulled up, and out came the same woman who had been yelling at us earlier about “misusing tax dollars.” We just couldn’t catch a break from her. She went on another tirade, but eventually, someone else got out of the car and handed Lusty an envelope before they left.

Lusty and I weren’t too worried about it. We changed the subject, and she started telling me about how, during the war, she would sometimes hear military broadcasts over her car radio or the firehouse radio. It’s possible to pick up radio transmissions from the far side of the world under certain atmospheric conditions. The signals can bounce off one of the upper layers of the atmosphere, using it like a reflector to bankshot transmissions around the curvature of the Earth.

She mentioned hearing units say “Shattered Spear.” Before she could explain, I asked what it meant. Lusty told me that the Little Bird Armed Forces use two code words: “Broken Spear” and “Shattered Spear.” “Broken Spear” means a friendly unit is in danger of being overrun, so it calls in every available combat aircraft for support, dropping their payloads a safe distance away to prevent friendly fire. “Shattered Spear” means an enemy force is about to or is currently overwhelming a friendly force, calling in every combat aircraft to drop their payloads right on top of the friendly position. Her father had told her that in the military, munitions fired by mortars, artillery, and bombs dropped by the air force are indiscriminate. It doesn’t matter which side soldiers are on—friendly or enemy—they’ll get hit by shrapnel or fire, depending on the ordnance that’s dropped.

When I asked Lusty if she was going to open the envelope, she shrugged it off, saying she wasn’t in a rush. She wasn’t worried about it, figuring that if it was a lawsuit for “misuse of taxpayer money,” no judge would entertain it. And if a judge did, it would probably be just for amusement before dismissing the case.

I could see her point. Many people sue out of greed, a desire for revenge, or desperation for justice, often with the help of an ambulance chaser or an amoral attorney. Lusty even mentioned that some people in Little Bird have filed lawsuits against God or Satan. Since these are religious figures without an address or a way to be reliably contacted, the lawsuits go nowhere. Even the religious folks here think it’s ridiculous.

Lusty mentioned that someone once sued the City of Empire City Council for violating his constitutional right to free speech by having him arrested. The city council was shocked, but Lusty, born and raised in Empire, said three things have remained true since the city was founded in 1710:

1. Great Cuisine

2. Great Culture

3. Corrupted Leaders

I believe it, because it’s like that everywhere. Lusty also told me about a time when the city council wanted to slash the EPD budget. People fought tooth and nail against it because they knew that fewer officers would mean the Commonwealth government might have to deploy active troops to police the city again. The last thing anyone wants is to see military vehicles with armed marines and paratroopers patrolling the streets. They don’t arrest criminals—they shoot them. If the military has to do domestic policing and follow their counter-insurgency protocol, it’s not pretty. Unlike the United States or any other country, the country of Little Bird doesn’t have any laws or acts that prevents the military from being used as a police force minus the due process and courthouses.

Soon, the fire bell went off, interrupting my sandwich. I grabbed it and headed out with the team. After some time, we found the street blocked off. I pulled out my cell phone and started recording what was happening.

Lusty told the people to move their vehicles, but when they refused, she told us to mount back up. Squad 141 moved out of the way, and Ladder Co 141 acted as a battering ram, pushing the vehicles aside. We continued on our way to the house fire.

When we arrived, Lusty radioed the P.D. for crowd control. It felt like dealing with a bully. I’ve always been told there are different ways to handle bullies, trying to reason with them, standing up to them, or sometimes getting friends to back you up. There are always other ways to handle the situation.

I kept my phone recording the whole time. I’m not on my phone 24/7, so I’ve got plenty of storage. The people didn’t seem too happy that we smashed through their vehicle blockade, but what did they expect? A forty-seven-ton, all-steel fire truck is going to force a two-ton car out of the way any day, even if the brakes or emergency brake are on.

It’s our legal right to move vehicles if we need to, and if they try to sue for damages, they’ll look like fools in court. They’ll be painted in a bad light, seen as valuing their vehicle over human life. It’s like saying, “Hey, if I had to choose between saving someone’s life or my car, I’d go for the car.” Not a good look.

I just feel like I’m recording all this because of us being delayed for thirty seconds so if someone died in this house fire and they complain to the city about us slowly steeping our response then I would show the city that they blocked us making us be delayed. If anyone does anything hasty then they would be recorded. When I get done recording then I’m going to share this to my social media and share it to my friends and family and make backups just in case if I unintentionally delete it.

I kept recording, and after a minute, people started throwing stuff at us. Lusty barked, “Dynamite! Smith! Get them wet! Get more hoses!” She then grabbed her radio to call for another Engine company for riot assistance and requested a larger police response. This was turning into a full-blown riot. Dynamite and Smith turned the 1 ¾ and 2 ½ inch attack fire hoses on the crowd of agitators. I provided some social commentary, explaining how we’re trained to use fire hoses offensively or defensively in civil disturbances.

I also mentioned that many police dogs here were once military attack dogs. When a K-9 officer takes a dog off the leash, it goes after the closest person, biting and holding them until an officer can intervene. These dogs have sharp enough teeth to draw blood and tear skin. I know some friends would call this “excessive force,” but here on Little Bird, it’s a double standard. If it happens out of the blue, it’s excessive force, but if people start throwing stuff and attacking us, it’s justified force.

I know some friends and family would say, “It’s 1963 all over again,” even though this isn’t about race. Many of my family members lived through the 1960s and judged people by their actions, not their nationality or ethnic background. It’s hard to explain to my friends and family back in the United States that the country I’m living in has outdated crowd control tactics. They use dogs, batons, tear gas, and mounted police. In the 1980s and 90s, they borrowed and bought outdated military gear to reduce officer injuries in civil disturbances. The riot armor here in Little Bird is outdated Ranger armor that protects the wearer from all forms of damage, making them nearly invulnerable. At $12,500 per armor, it should.

I kept recording, not caring how long the video would be. If these people got arrested and filed complaints, I’d have the evidence. When some cops arrived, I provided commentary about their wooden batons, explaining they’re made from the same wood as baseball bats—ash, maple, or hickory—and are an inch shorter than the side-handle polycarbonate ones.

More cops arrived, allowing us to finally focus on the fire. But because we had to deal with the crowd first, the fire had grown. After a few more alarms were transmitted, we managed to knock it down and conduct a search. We extracted a victim, but he was DOA. Fury erupted within me, and I yelled at the crowd, “YOU HAPPY NOW? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK!”

The people being arrested and thrown into police cars or transport vans had looks of guilt, shame, and remorse on their faces. They were being taken to the precinct for citing civil disturbance, and it seemed like they were having a “My God, What Have I Done?” moment.

Some of us needed medical attention after being pelted with thrown objects. When I finally turned off the video recording, it was an hour, fifteen minutes, and forty-four seconds long. I shared it on social media with the title, “Having to deal with morons who are self-centered for someone they probably don’t like.” I backed it up, emailed it to myself, and sent it to friends and family, asking them to save it in case I accidentally deleted it.

While I was getting treated, my phone blew up with notifications. Once I was done, I checked them out. Most were angry reactions from friends and family, calling the people stupid and expressing sadness that their actions cost someone their life. Many of my friends are the type to skip through videos, so they probably missed the full context.

Some family members who skipped to action parts commented things like, “These people blocked your company from getting to a fire and it cost someone their life. They don’t deserve any sympathy and won’t get any!”

The woman who heckled us earlier about “misuse of taxpayer money” for grocery shopping was in the crowd but didn’t join the chaos, so she didn’t get arrested.

Back at the firehouse, Lusty radioed Fleet Maintenance for repairs. She requested two loaner apparatus—a spare rescue engine and a spare ladder truck—because of the damage we sustained. Lusty prefers to get them fixed before something worse happens, even though the Fire Department of the City of Empire does preventive maintenance on all its apparatus every month. In-service apparatus are taken out of service, and spare apparatus are put in service. After a week or two, the spare rig goes back to the garage at Fleet Maintenance, and the newer apparatus return to full service.

Linda mentioned that Fleet Maintenance has some obsolete apparatus. When she was on Ladder 18, her ex-boyfriend, who was on Engine 18, was a terrible driver and wrecked so many fire engines that the DMV revoked his Emergency Driver’s License. The spare rig that Fleet Maintenance gave Firehouse 18 was a fire engine dating back to 1914. Why they have an almost 100-year-old apparatus in storage ready to be used if needed is beyond me. I think it’s just for those at Fleet Maintenance to give to someone who has an EDL but can’t drive or believes that driving a 23-ton or 47-ton fire apparatus is like riding a bike.

I have family members who drive military vehicles for a living—not just 4x4 off-road vehicles, but supply trucks, tanks, APCs, IFVs, and Armored Recovery Vehicles. To them, driving a heavy vehicle is nothing like cruising down I-65 in a convertible. My family here in Little Bird does the same, but they say it’s even harder because vehicles here are made of steel, not fiberglass and aluminum. This makes them much heavier. While cars back home might weigh around four thousand pounds depending on the make and model, vehicles here can weigh about three tons.

I also know people who lived beyond their means and ended up deep in debt, about to lose everything during the 2008 recession. Thankfully, my dad taught me the value of money and to live within my comfort zone—meaning within my means. He always said not to exceed that limit. Even though he lost both of his jobs during the recession, he had saved enough to get by, despite his unholy marriage with my mother.

I headed into the firehouse kitchen and found Avalanche slicing up some red and yellow jalapeno peppers. She tossed them into a pressure cooker pot where something was already sizzling. After a bit, she poured the cooked jalapenos and onions into a blender, then added beef chunks to the same pot to fry up. Once the onions and jalapenos were well blended, she mixed in hot paprika, sweet paprika, black pepper, a pinch of salt, and ground caraway seeds. She stirred it all together, added a stew pack, and once the beef was done, she poured the blended mixture back into the pot. She moved it to a back burner and started making homemade elbow noodles.

As Avalanche put the noodles into the pot of water, the news came on. A reporter mentioned that some people were suing the city for our “slow-stepping” response. Not long after, some guys in suits showed up. I knew they were from Internal Affairs, here to get our statements. I had a feeling they wouldn’t take us seriously, but I decided to go last. When it was my turn, I showed them the video I recorded. They said they’d have to check if it was “authentic.”

I muttered, “Oh sweet Jesus,” as the IA guys left. I decided to call a number my cousin Mitchell, not Mitzy, had given me. I dialed it on my cell phone and spoke to an operator, using a code phrase. The operator responded with, “Hope we didn’t lose you as a loyal customer,” like a business trying to retain a customer.

After that, I got the green light from Lusty to head to the news station, keeping my radio on as instructed. On the way, I reflected on my female family members who supported their broke boyfriends for years, only to be labeled gold diggers by their boyfriends’ families. When they exposed the truth, it often led to breakups, even if the boyfriends promised to change and stand up to their families. Once a Waterson makes up their mind, there’s no changing it, even if the ex’s family tries to buy their silence.

I also have female relatives who dated or married narcissistic men who wanted to track their every move. These women gave back their rings and left, refusing to be controlled. Waterson women have different ideals of what they want in a partner. Many want someone ambitious who treats them as equals, while others don’t mind if their partners have hard-working jobs or not. What we all want is a partner who respects our decisions, regardless of their ambitions. Some of my female relatives don’t want kids and have broken up with boyfriends who insisted on having babies right after moving in or getting married. Respecting each other’s wishes is crucial in any relationship.

I know some female Watersons who are a bit chubby because they love their McDonald’s—ordering two Double Quarter Pounder with cheese meals, large fries, and a large soda. Back in the day, they would’ve supersized those meals.

Yeah, some of my family members have married or dated people who seem nice on the outside but are completely different behind closed doors. I actually have a female relative who married a controlling man. He didn’t like it when she hugged her brother, and when he hit his brother-in-law, he got a rude awakening. Her brother-in-law, a Green Beret or Delta Force operator, told him that children hit better than him. Long story short, fighting a Tier One special forces operator is a losing battle for an unskilled fighter.

I have some family members who are lawyers, and they often find that opposing counsel does their job for them. For example, one of my relatives had a client who sued her landlord for illegally evicting her. The landlord had no valid reason to evict her since she was paying rent on time every month.

At family gatherings, they love sharing their court experiences, especially when opposing counsel seems to have gotten their legal knowledge from watching a season of Law and Order. They’ve also explained to people that asking for money isn’t illegal in the US, as it would violate freedom of speech. You can ask for money, even over the internet, without providing a return product, as long as you’re not defrauding anyone or lying about why you need the money.

Unfortunately, I can’t ask for their legal help here in Little Bird because their expertise is limited to the states they practice in. If I needed their help here, they’d have to take time to read up on the local laws, whether they’re Federal or Commonwealth laws (I prefer to say Commonwealth while others say State, Borough, or County).

I soon arrived at the news station and decided to give them the video for free, even though they were willing to pay me a hefty price for it. I had to sign a contract saying that I couldn’t turn around and sue them for giving them the video for free and then sue them for not paying me. My dad and many grand uncles always told me to read the fine print because sometimes signing or agreeing to something without reading it can lead to trouble.

They always said, “Doesn’t matter what you’re being offered, read the fine print before signing anything.” They also told me, “There’s no such thing as a free product; if something seems too good to be true, it’s either fake or there’s some kind of catch. If you’re getting a free product, chances are you’re the product.” In this day of age the latter part of getting a free product sounds like either something too good to be true or someone gets a free product to self promote it because companies down reach out to celebrities and influencers to reach a broader horizon.

After thoroughly reading through the contract I did sign it but every time I want to sign my nickname and last name of Macaroni Waterson instead of Mackenzie Waterson. In my family there are fourteen other Mackenzie’s and in my family with two people with the same name you more or less need a nickname to stick out.

I left the news studio and got back in my car, thinking about how my family handles names. If there are two people with the same first name, whether they have the same or different last names, but different middle names, they usually get nicknames to stand out. Imagine going to a family gathering and hearing, “Hey Mackenzie!”—both of us would turn around. Nicknames help avoid that confusion.

I also thought about my family members who have to deal with narcissistic parents-in-law. These parents, who aren’t Watersons by blood, often demand that their children name their firstborn after them. It’s frustrating, especially when these parents treat their kids poorly. When their kids become successful, these narcissistic parents suddenly pull the “We’re family” card. Many Watersons believe in “Family trumps everything” and stand up for their family, even against their spouse, to protect their kids’ rights to name their children whatever they want. No one should feel obligated to name their kids after someone just because of family pressure.

Don’t get me started on Watersons who remarry and have stepkids. Sometimes, the new spouse wants their child to marry their step-sibling. To us Watersons, that’s creepy on every level. It’s pushing boundaries too far.

Stolen story; please report.

As I drove away from the news station, I thought about how some of my family members have parents who are Watersons by marriage. These parents sometimes try to reunite their sons or daughters with toxic ex-lovers. It’s frustrating, especially when the Waterson parent has to step in and tell their spouse to back off, warning them that deceiving their child will have negative repercussions in the long run.

Some of my female relatives have had boyfriends who don’t take breakups and try everything to get back into their ex-girlfriend’s life, even attempting to break down doors. In those cases, many Waterson fathers or mothers have used deadly force to protect their kids, whether they’re adults or not. These cases usually get dismissed because it’s considered justified use of force. Even though only three members of my family are in law enforcement, we all protect our families fiercely.

Male Watersons, on the other hand, can take a hint. When a relationship ends, it ends—unless our ex-girlfriend or ex-lover says we can stay friends but not lovers anymore. We respect that and move on.

My family members back in America live in states with stand your ground and castle doctrine laws for good reasons. They’d rather be judged by twelve people on a jury than have to plan a funeral. My dad was always protective of me in a way that balanced care and freedom. He didn’t mind if I had guy friends, but he made it crystal clear that if any of them hurt me in any way that wasn’t playful, he’d come after them with both barrels. If I got hurt while playing around, he’d turn the other cheek because he wasn’t overprotective. But as his only child, he would go to great lengths to protect me.

When I was a kid, during his deployments for the U.S. Invasion of Panama and later the Gulf War, he made sure I stayed with family members. No one trusted my mother to watch over me, and even her own family sided with my dad, saying they would’ve done the same.

My mother is the kind of person who would leave a kid in the car, only for the car to get carjacked and have the carjacker return to scold her for leaving the child in the car. She really needs to take every fuckin’ test known to mankind to see if she’s fit to be a mother. Long story short, she’s unfit because she only cares about herself and getting her next fix rather than helping her own family.

One time, my mom microwaved a sponge thinking it was a Hot Pocket. She had plenty of time to realize it was a rectangular dish sponge, not a Hot Pocket. She only found out it was a dish sponge when I asked why she was microwaving it. That’s the most ridiculous thing ever. Even then, she defended herself, saying it wasn’t a dish sponge but an actual turnover pizza thing. I told her I’d never seen a yellow and green turnover sandwich before. When my dad got home and walked in as if on cue, he asked why she microwaved a dish sponge. She took a long look and finally realized she had microwaved a dish sponge, not actual food. My friends, extended family, and my girlfriend finds that story hilarious.

When I told my friends and some family that my mom took my phone and threw it against the wall, breaking it, they were shocked. My dad was furious with her for that.

Back in the early 2000s, the idea of a teenager having a cell phone was generally seen as being spoiled. My dad said I could get one if I worked hard in school, and he got me one in 2001, the same year I graduated. My parents had a two-hour fight over it, so I just went into my bedroom, put on headphones, and played music on my CD player to drown them out. Once they stopped fighting, my dad took me to get dinner. Getting takeout was mostly for rare occasions or special events, or if my dad wasn’t in the mood to cook. If he wasn’t in the mood to cook, he’d hit up a fast food joint on the way home or just order a pizza.

I soon returned to the firehouse and found everyone huddled around the TV. They were watching the news, and to my surprise, they were showing the video I had given them. It was being broadcasted nationally across Little Bird. The video showed our side of the story, and any sympathy the public had for those accusing us of a slow response quickly vanished. The footage clearly showed how they blocked us from getting to the fire and threw stuff at us. Their actions spoke louder than their complaints, and any sympathy they had was now gone.

Those people who complained about our response time claimed that our supposed delay got someone killed. But the video I took showed the real story. It captured how we had to switch from fighting the fire to turning the hoses on the crowd to protect ourselves until police backup arrived with riot gear. During that time, we couldn’t do our job because we were under attack by rocks, glass bottles, and other objects.

The hour-long video was enough proof to show how we were hindered from doing our job while being under attack. Near the end of the video, some of the people had an “Oh my God, what have I done” look on their faces, realizing the gravity of their actions. They acted like fire can’t kill someone and just wanted others to feel bad for their guilty actions. I don’t feel sorry for them, even though they claimed we slowed our response and turned our fire hoses on them for no reason.

To me, these people should face serious consequences for their actions. Public humiliation or something similar might seem fitting for such terrible behavior. I know they’ll likely feign innocence and shift the blame onto others, but the reality is, they’ve already faced repercussions. Most of them have been fired from their jobs. No company or corporation wants to be associated with individuals who started a fire, blocked the fire department, and attacked firefighters with dangerous objects. It brings negative press and ruins their reputation.

In the business world, reputation is everything. Companies know that allowing someone who committed arson and assaulted firefighters to work for them would be a PR nightmare. There are always other companies ready to swoop in and steal clients if a company’s reputation takes a hit.

In the business world, companies are always on the lookout for new clients. When clients leave a company, they usually find another one in the same market, but not with the original company. I have family members in the business game, and a few of them own small businesses that rely on loyal customers returning. They depend on both newspaper advertisements and word of mouth to keep their businesses thriving.

Some of my middle-class family members have experienced their kids getting married after a divorce, where their ex-spouse remarried someone with more money. When these kids get married, their stepparents, who come from either old money or new money, and their remarried parent, who isn’t a Waterson, attend the wedding. Sometimes, the kids call their Waterson parents and tell them not to show up, claiming they’re not “sophisticated” enough. It’s frustrating because welders, truck drivers, farmers, carpenters, and other hardworking blue-collar and white-collar workers who provide for their families are just as valuable. When the non-Waterson parent and stepparent make a scene or ruin the wedding out of jealousy, it becomes clear that it’s better to have people who care about you for who you are rather than using family members for connections.

One thing I know for sure is that my family would never do something as stupid as blocking the road for first responders. We respect public servants doing their jobs, whether they’re paid or volunteers. Don’t get me started on family members who play favorites with their kids. If two kids get straight A’s in school, the favorite one gets the latest things while the other gets nothing but a pat on the back. Some of my relatives favor their kids to the point where, if they go to college or get their driver’s license, the favorite one gets a new car while the other is told to bike everywhere and save up to buy a dated car from the classifieds. These cars are often on their last legs or old enough to need historic tags soon.

Now I’m thinking about how some family members violate a core Waterson code: leaving our ex-lover’s family alone and not getting involved with them or a family member’s ex-lover without crystal clear permission. It’s painful when someone breaks up with their lover, only for a family member to swoop in and start dating that ex right after the breakup. This usually causes a huge family rift. While we Watersons believe in finding love and being with your soulmate, taking a family member’s ex-lover or their family member feels like a backstab.

I’ve seen family members quit their jobs or transfer to a different office or company position far away to put their past behind them. But it’s hard to move on when a family member steals your ex-lover and rubs the new relationship in your face. This causes a lot of tension. Sometimes, the person who got broken up with ends up dating their ex-lover’s sibling of the same gender, especially if their family member did the same thing before.

Once the news went off, I decided to take a walk with Lusty. I asked her if she had any other family, and she mentioned an uncle on her mother’s side whom she never met but who saved her life. As for her father’s side, they’re dead to her in both a metaphorical and literal sense. They didn’t approve of Lusty’s father dating, then marrying, a woman from a Native Little Birden tribe. On Christmas Day of 1984, they called Lusty a “thing” instead of treating her like family. Her father’s parents even said that Lusty’s niece was their first grandchild, despite Lusty being born several months earlier.

I also asked Lusty about her time as a cashier in a restaurant. She told me an interesting fact. Fries don’t decompose, not because of preservatives or anything scary, but because they have almost no water content. Due to their thin size, high salt content, and the fact they’re deep-fried, bacteria, mold, and mildew can’t grow without water. That’s why a slice of bread in a plastic bag will grow mold, but one left sitting on the counter will merely dry out and get stale. Of course Lusty said how the restaurant gets the same fries that you can get from any recognizable and generic fast food joints.

Avalanche then went back to check on the stew and announced it was done. She had made easy beef stew, nokedli, and pickled red cabbage.

Lusty mentioned that here in Little Bird, many men go to college because they have the financial means to do so. Men are required to complete at least one tour of military service, which lasts eighteen months. After that, they can either reenlist for another eighteen months or leave. If they apply to any college, university, or trade school, the military pays for it through military scholarships or the Little Bird version of the G.I. Bill. They have three years to use this money for education before it expires, unless they do another tour to regain the benefits.

Lusty’s father never used his benefits because he did several tours in Vietnam. His girlfriend-turned-wife, Lusty’s mom, convinced him that she would pay for his advanced education since she was a therapist. However, when she lost her job and couldn’t put him through college, he thought about using his military money. Unfortunately, he was a day late. The military allows soldiers to claim their benefits on the last day before they expire, and Lusty’s dad’s benefits expired on October 27, 1979. He missed the deadline by a day.

Lusty also shared how her mother’s so-called friends from university tried to get her to break up with her then-boyfriend because he fought in a controversial war. But Lusty and her mother are the kind of women who don’t follow the crowd. Her mother’s friends are the type who go on dates with men and call them broke if they refuse to pay the bill for the woman’s number of friends that tag along as third wheels.

According to Lusty, these friends can’t hold down a relationship for longer than a month because they expect their boyfriends to spend exorbitant amounts on dinner. Here in Little Bird, the most expensive item in an everyday restaurant is a steak dinner, which costs almost three bucks. So, spending $200+ on a dinner bill is unimaginable.

Dynamite jumped into our conversation, saying she’s the type who has no problem splitting the bill on dates. She’s also comfortable with her date paying the bill in full as long as she leaves a tip, and she has no problem paying the bill herself either.

I asked Lusty, Dynamite, and Avalanche how they felt about open relationships. They all hated the idea, even though some people claim it “makes relationships stronger.” Lusty went on a tirade about her neighbor who was in an open relationship. The wife hated it because her friends told her that another woman was giving her husband joy and happiness that she couldn’t. When the wife asked her coworkers or friends for help to win back her husband and close their marriage, those friends turned out to be toxic, more like relationship wreckers than builders.

When they asked me what I thought about open relationships, I told them it’s a stupid idea. I mentioned a female family member who was in an open marriage that led to a divorce. Her daughter hated her for it and banned her from the wedding. Long story short, those who pay for weddings can also ask for a refund and cancel the wedding.

One thing about us Watersons is that we’re like those WWII propaganda posters that say, “Loose lips sink ships.” We don’t blab our mouths off. If we’re told a secret, we take it to our graves. If we know about a canceled wedding, we won’t say a word, even under pressure or pain.

The stew was actually good, but I’m used to country-style food. My dad and I were born and raised in the Southern United States, and many of my family members make homemade, country-style food. My dad and most of my family make homemade sausage and gravy for breakfast, and it’s way better than the bland stuff.

Dynamite then asked me what my family does for a living. I told her it varies, but it’s primarily blue-collar labor and military service. I knew why she was asking—she had shared about her family, so she was curious about mine in return. I explained that many of my family members find their own career paths or find a lover who shares the same career.

For example, I have some family members who are truck drivers. They have their lover or spouse ride with them, and they take turns driving. One drives for eight hours during the day, then they stop for dinner and switch. The other drives for eight or nine hours through the night. They wake up, have breakfast, and switch again. It’s a win-win for them because they’re together, doing their job, and sharing the same income. They’ve got a system that works, with one awake during the day and the other at night, making team driving efficient and enjoyable.

I told them about some of my female relatives who date mama’s boys. They don’t mind it at first, but it becomes a problem when their boyfriend or husband’s mothers start to micromanage their lives. These mothers often want to name their grandkids and override the daughter-in-law’s choices. While tradition is important to us, many Watersons break from it. For instance, military service is a tradition, but some Watersons are labeled as 4F, meaning they’re denied military service due to physical, moral, or mental standards.

I also mentioned how some of my female relatives have dated mama’s boys whose boyfriends or husbands always side with their mothers, even over minor things. When these families have only had sons for generations, and a daughter is born, the in-laws often accuse the mother of cheating. They get into their son’s head, causing relationship problems. Even after a paternity test proves the child is their son’s, they demand more paternity tests even going to get a court ordered one, refusing to accept the truth.

I shared how some family members, whose Waterson parent dies and their spouse remarries, face rejection from their new step-parent. The remarried parent might say the child is a reminder of past mistakes and refuse to include them in the new family. This often happens despite the kids supporting their parent’s desire to remarry.

That revelation got them all looking at me like I had just mentioned a hidden cardinal sin.

Dynamite, who had been telling me earlier about how selfish and self-centered her family is, was shocked by what I shared. Her family is the type that, if working on group projects, would take the project, remove everyone else’s names, and take full credit. They’re also the kind who, if in high positions, blame their mistakes on subordinates and then demote or fire them.

Given that her family wants her to marry a man she only knows from supermarket tabloids, I can see why she’s frustrated. Dynamite then shared how some of her family members even tried to get a $150k loan from the bank she uses. The banks here in Little Bird have an automatic verification process. When someone tries to get a loan from someone else’s account, the bank calls the account holder within seven business days to verify. If the account holder declines, the bank calls the police because it’s usually a case of forged signatures. In Little Bird, that’s both identity theft and attempted monetary theft, which are federal offenses. The local PD won’t investigate, but the Little Bird version of the FBI will step in. Since 1974, every dollar and cent in the bank has been fully insured by the government—$40,000 per individual account and $80,000 for joint accounts for married couples.

When I tried to do the math in my head to convert 150k Little Birden dollars to US dollars, Lusty quickly helped out, saying it’s $1,105,013.51 U.S. Dollars. That’s a lot of money!

I then asked Dynamite if her parents approved of her going to the military. She said no right off the bat. Then she turned around and asked me how it feels to be related to a legendary fighter ace. I knew she was talking about my grand uncle Jimmy “James” Richard Waterson, a Little Bird Navy Fighter Pilot Ace with 114 confirmed kills.

He often talked about how different things were back in the 1940s. Aircraft carriers didn’t have the same technology they do today. Sometimes, the carrier wouldn’t be going fast enough to generate enough wind for a proper launch, causing planes to fall into the water. He used to say, “Turning a 60,963-ton aircraft carrier ain’t like turning a bike.” When the carrier turned to avoid hitting a plane, sometimes the side of the carrier would still clip the wing, bringing the plane underneath.

Back then, Naval Aviation was still in its infancy when World War II broke out. Many Naval Officers, including his future wife, believed that naval combat would still be dominated by battleships and other capital ships like heavy cruisers and battlecruisers. It’s incredible to think about how much has changed since then.

I told Dynamite about the “Hammer and Anvil” tactic my grand uncle Jimmy used to talk about. It involved two or more squadrons of torpedo bombers dropping their torpedoes on both the starboard and port sides of an enemy ship. In theory, it sounds straightforward, but under heavy anti-aircraft fire, it was a different story. The enemy ship would be forced to face torpedoes from both sides, making it nearly impossible to turn without hitting the torpedoes on the bow and stern. If the ship tried to go in reverse, it would have to stop first, making it vulnerable.

However, with the advent of anti-ship missiles in the 50s and 60s, this tactic became outdated, and torpedo bombers became obsolete and with the introduction of multirole aircraft in the 60s and 70s.

I also mentioned how my grand uncle talked about the differences in Little Bird Naval Carriers back then. The main twelve carriers—Cadence, Flurry, Apple Pie, Blueberry Pie, Mackenzie, Aurora, Nightingale, Mountaineseses, Cascade, Blueberry, Empire, Ft. Sunction, and Ft. Bluejay—had their islands on the starboard side (right). Meanwhile, the twelve reserve carriers and the Flurry Class Escort Carriers, used by the Blister Canyon Navy, had their islands on the port side (left).

The naming conventions for Little Bird Naval ships are quite interesting. Destroyers and other light screen ships are named after towns, and battleships are named after stars, like BB-01 and BB-02 being named after the Northern Lights and Southern Lights. However, the carriers have a mix of names, from popular female names on Little Bird to food, Native tribes, and city names. It seems like they were trying to confuse enemy intelligence or make it seem like there were more carriers and ships than there actually were and make them think they were running out of names.

Avalanche asked what I was doing to her stew, and I told her I was just getting more elbow noodles with some stew sauce and a bit of beef. I added that at least it wasn’t like when my so-called mother microwaved a dish sponge. That got everyone laughing because it was the first time they’d heard of someone microwaving something non-food that wasn’t metal.

I explained that some fires here are caused by people putting a bowl or plate into the microwave but leaving a fork, knife, or spoon in it. They say not to microwave anything metal because:

1. Arcing and sparking: The microwaves bounce off the metal object, causing sparks and potentially damaging the microwave.

2. Fire risk: Sparks can ignite flammable materials inside the microwave.

3. Microwave damage: The electrical arc can harm the microwave’s magnetron.

4. Explosion risk: In rare cases, metal objects can explode when exposed to microwave radiation, releasing dangerous shrapnel.

Since some fires here are caused by that, I decided to tell them a story.

_____________________

July 8th, 2002, Alabama

After a long shift at the diner, I finally made it home, ready to collapse. The post-4th of July rush had everyone scrambling back to their routines, and I was caught in the whirlwind. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner service were a blur of orders, drinks, and food deliveries. We even ran out of coffee, which was no surprise given that many folks had taken July 5th off, turning the weekend into a marathon of barbecues and cookouts.

I had just returned from visiting family in Virginia, where we watched the fireworks light up the sky. After church yesterday, today was my first day back at work, and it felt like I hadn’t stopped moving since I got off the bus.

As soon as I got home, I headed straight to my bedroom. My room isn’t your typical girly space with pink decor or boy band posters. Instead, it’s a tribute to World War II, with posters like “JOIN U.S. ARMY AIR CORPS” and others for the U.S. Navy, USMC, and U.S. Army. Some of these were passed down from family members who served, while others I picked up at yard sales.

I collapsed onto my twin-sized bed, setting my glow-in-the-dark watch alarm for a couple of hours. When I woke up at 5:40 PM, the house felt like an icebox. I slipped on my fuzzy slippers and checked the thermostat—it was set to 45 degrees! “What the heck!” I muttered, adjusting it to a more reasonable 66 degrees.

Then I heard the microwave in the kitchen. Assuming Dad was reheating leftovers, I wandered in, only to find my mom standing there. The microwave beeped, and she pulled out a steaming rectangular object. To my horror, it was a dish sponge.

“Mom, what are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I made you a Hot Pocket, sweetie,” she said, smiling.

I squinted at the object in her hand. It wasn’t a Hot Pocket. It was a dish sponge, slightly melted and emitting a strange odor.

“Uh, Mom, that’s not a Hot Pocket. That’s a dish sponge,” I said.

“Don’t be silly, Mackenzie. It’s just a new flavor,” she replied.

I shook my head, bewildered, and took a step closer, pointing at the sponge. “Mom, seriously, look at it. It’s a sponge.”

Just then, the front door opened, and my dad walked in, tired from a long day at work. He set his hat down and headed to the kitchen, drawn by the unusual smell.

“What’s that smell?” he asked, peering over my mom’s shoulder. He immediately recognized the mistake. “That’s a dish sponge, not food.”

My mom’s face turned red with embarrassment. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t even realize!”

“Next time, take a hard look, maybe even a double look, before you microwave anything,” Dad said, shaking his head.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I grabbed a real Hot Pocket from the freezer. “I’ll handle lunch from here, Mom.”

The family shared a laugh, the kitchen filled with the warmth of our bond despite the mishap.

“Cooking is definitely Dad’s territory. Remember back in 2000 when you tried to reheat leftover pizza in the oven?” I said.

My mom’s face turned even redder. “Oh no, not that story again!”

“You left the pizza box in the oven, and it caught fire. I came home from school to find smoke everywhere and had to use the kitchen landline to call the fire department,” I said.

Dad shook his head, smiling.

Soon after, my phone rang, so I ran back to my room to answer it. It was one of my friends. I told him about my mom microwaving a dish sponge. As I walked by the kitchen, my mom grabbed my phone and threw it against the wall, which sparked an argument between my parents. I quickly grabbed the Hot Pocket from the microwave and scampered back to my bedroom. I put on my headphones and played the top hits of the 1980s to drown out their arguing.

Even though my mom broke my phone over microwaving a dish sponge, I didn’t feel ashamed. Us Watersons don’t take things badly and don’t put up with other people’s nonsense. Many of us have yo-yos for two reasons: to mess around with and to use as a makeshift weapon if needed.

After two hours of my parents’ arguing, the house finally fell silent. I emerged from my bedroom, and Dad suggested we escape to McDonald’s. He ordered a hamburger and small fries, while I went all out with a Double Quarter Pounder meal, large Coke, and large fries.

As we waited in the drive-thru line, we talked about family. Dad shared some relationship advice, warning me to be cautious about who I get involved with. He said some people might seem nice on the outside but are the Devil on the inside. He talked about how many people cheat, and their kids might unknowingly help tear apart a marriage or relationship. Sometimes, kids think it’s all fun and games until they find themselves stuck with the cheating parent and their new partner, realizing too late that they made a mistake.

I also opened up to him about coming out as bi a few years back. I had a short-lived boyfriend, and we broke up over it. It wasn’t me; it was him. He was a jock who used girls to help him with schoolwork, and once they outlived their usefulness, he’d break up with them. We never had any official dates or anything. While breakups can be heartbreaking, this one was just another day for me—it didn’t hurt much. I think I knew what he was doing or sensed that it wasn’t a real relationship because he never asked me out on a date. Whenever I asked him out, he always came up with a random excuse, and I knew it was bullshit. I didn’t have concrete evidence to call him out, but I did kick him in the balls at our high school graduation for it.

Dad prefers listening to the news and talk shows over music so he can stay informed locally, nationally, and globally. He believes that whoever drives has full control over the radio. If I ever tried to change it to music, he would immediately switch it back to a news talk show. So, I never bothered changing it. About a decade ago, during our move from Ft. Liberty, North Carolina to Alabama, I rode with other family members who played music on the radio, but mostly, I rode with Dad.

We got our food, and Dad and I ate our French fries on the ride home. He advised me that if I ever got back into a relationship, I shouldn’t sign a prenup. He explained that some couples sign a prenup before marriage, but their spouse’s family might want to dissolve it if they find out their son-in-law or daughter-in-law is worth a lot more money. However, the couple might refuse to dissolve the prenup.

When I asked Dad what a prenup was, he explained that it’s an agreement made by a couple before they marry, concerning the ownership of their respective assets should the marriage fail. He mentioned that he and Mom have a prenup, which is more aligned with Dad’s assets, while Mom has next to nothing.

We ate dinner when we got home, minus the fries we ate on the ride back. Despite everything, I’m grateful for my supportive family, minus Mom, who’s the opposite of supportive. I have female family members who have dated and even married men richer than them. Their boyfriend-turned-husband’s friends and family often accuse them of being gold diggers, only in it for the money or a higher social status. However, when their husband’s business fails or hits a rough patch, these same people are shocked when the female Waterson doesn’t leave. It’s a testament to the fact that many people attract those who are there for money, not actual love, while some marry out of love, not caring about the money.

Many of us female Watersons are married to people who work long hours, like public servants. We’re used to family members being away for long hours, like in the military, so we find ways to cope or just face the facts.

I also have family members who call out their parents for favoring one child over the other. It’s hypocritical when parents lecture about how family is there for each other but aren’t there for the one who needs it. For example, if the spoiled golden child takes their sibling’s car and totals it, the parents are more worried about the golden child than being frustrated at them for taking someone’s car. They have the nerve to call the neglected child ungrateful and say how the family supports each other, rewriting history to fit their narrative. The parents always side with the spoiled, entitled golden kid.

To us Watersons, it’s funny when parents who neglect their kids draw lines and set up boundaries, then pull the “family supports family” card. They push one kid away while spoiling the other. When the neglected kids start their own lives and move away, these parents get mad. Some of those kids who get ignored by their own family find it scary when they meet people who support their family and actually show love. When their neglectful family finds out that the kid they pushed away is dating or married to someone who values them, the hypocritical parents and family members think they deserve to be back in their lives. When their spouse tells the hypocritical in-laws to hit the road, the family throws a hissy fit because someone won’t bend over backward for them.

At eighteen, I find it funny when neglectful parents call out their neglected kids for alienating their family and tearing it apart. Those adult kids who date or marry into the Waterson family see what a supportive and loving family is like. We’re even willing to take up arms to defend our own family, including Watersons by marriage. Some family members have yelled at and scolded neglectful parents, and when they start to cry, we tell them to stop with the crocodile tears because they’re only crying because they’ve been called out.

It’s tough when family dynamics get messy, especially with cheating and the fallout that comes with it. It’s heartbreaking when kids side with the cheating parent and then get upset when the other parent, a Waterson, cuts them off. But we Watersons don’t pretend things are fine when they’re not.

As Dad and I ate our dinner, I looked through some photos from our NYC trip last year, which was my high school graduation present. We had such a blast! There are pictures of us on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, the World Trade Center, and 40 Wall Street. There’s one of us with the Statue of Liberty in the background and another of me with the USS Intrepid. We also have shots from Central Park and the New York City Fire Museum.

Mom didn’t come with us on that trip because she was worried about getting lost, but honestly, it might have been better if she had. Dad accidentally got three plane tickets instead of two, so he called around to see if any family members wanted to join us. Most couldn’t make it on such short notice, but one of my cousins, who was touring colleges across America, decided to come along. She used the trip to check out universities in all five boroughs, killing two birds with one stone.

For a whole week, we explored every corner of New York City. I even got photos with New York’s Bravest in all five boroughs: Engine 21 in Manhattan, Rescue Company 2 in Brooklyn, Engine 273 in Queens, Engine 82 Ladder 31 in The Bronx, and Engine 160 in Staten Island.

It was such a fun trip, despite the traffic being a real witch. Thankfully, Dad rented a car instead of relying on cabs. I’d love to go back someday—it was an unforgettable experience!

Honestly, I never really thought about going to college or getting an advanced education. It feels like I’m taking a sabbatical from school, and I’m not following the cliché that women only go for higher education. Some of my male friends went off to college or university last year, a few months after high school graduation. A few got in on sports scholarships, while others had backup plans in case their dream schools didn’t work out. They were realistic about their chances, knowing that Ivy League schools like Harvard aren’t for everyone.

At least they had a practical approach, understanding that rejection is a possibility. As for me, I might do a tour in the Navy before considering college or university. Maybe I’ll do several tours before settling down to live a more “normal” life. It feels like a good way to gain some life experience and figure out what I really want to do.

Honestly, I never really thought about going to college or getting an advanced education. It feels like I’m taking a sabbatical from school, and I’m not following the cliché that women only go for higher education. Some of my male friends went off to college or university last year, a few months after high school graduation. A few got in on sports scholarships, while others had backup plans in case their dream schools didn’t work out. They were realistic about their chances, knowing that Ivy League schools like Harvard aren’t for everyone.

At least they had a practical approach, understanding that rejection is a possibility. As for me, I might do a tour in the Navy before considering college or university. Maybe I’ll do several tours before settling down to live a more “normal” life. It feels like a good way to gain some life experience and figure out what I really want to do.

While we were eating, Dad asked me about my plans to join the Navy. I told him I had considered other branches of the U.S. Military just in case I didn’t get accepted into the Navy. I wouldn’t mind doing any job, even becoming a culinary specialist. Honestly, I don’t care what Navy career I get if I do go in.

Dad reminded me that I can’t be a Navy SEAL, which is true. I told him I plan on being on a ship, not in a special operations force. The roles of special operations, direct action, counter-terrorism, special reconnaissance, amphibious reconnaissance, unconventional warfare, hostage rescue, foreign internal defense, counter-proliferation, counter-narcotic operations, and underwater demolition aren’t for me.

I’d rather be on a Submarine Tender, Destroyer Tender, or Auxiliary ship—any ship that supports combat ships. It’s better to be realistic and have other plans. I’m not one to bite my tongue; I’d rather be open-minded than closed-minded.

My grand-uncle Stanley Waterson, who was with the 101st Airborne in World War II, wished for combat and got his wish when he was dropped with the rest of the division on D-Day. Later, when he found his brother Charlie, who was with the 82nd, he asked how combat was. Stanley told him it wasn’t what he expected. Charlie, who had previous combat experience in Italy during Operations Husky and Avalanche, told his brother not to wish for something and then get it in a way he didn’t expect.

The lesson I learned from that is to be careful what you wish for. Stanley wanted to fight in the war, and his first combat experience came when the Allies turned the tide in their favor, even though that shift started in 1942 and continued through the summer of 1943.

I remember the first time I played Call of Duty with Charlie. We were playing the first mission, and he couldn’t help but point out all the inaccuracies. He said no paratrooper would carry two weapons and a pistol because it would be too heavy. Pistols were typically given to officers, scouts, and a few specialists, not to every paratrooper.

When he asked what unit I was in, I told him it was Baker Company, 506th PIR of the 101st. He immediately corrected me, saying Ste-Mere-Eglise was for the 82nd, not the 101st. The character in the first mission should have been dropped in Dropzone C near St-Marie-du-Mont.

Charlie went on about how, according to the Table of Organization and Equipment (TO&E), the character should have been equipped with an M1 Rifle. Since the character was a Pathfinder, he could have been allotted an SMG, either a Thompson or a Grease Gun. He also debunked the myth that many paratroopers carried pistols; only a few did. When I picked up a BAR in the mission, he pointed out that the BAR wasn’t in the paratroopers’ TO&E at the time—only Glider troops had them.

It was a real eye-opener playing with Charlie. He had so much knowledge about the actual history and equipment, which made me appreciate the real stories even more.

In the second mission of the game, Charlie pointed out more inaccuracies. He said the timing of the counterattack was off—it was 0730 hours in the game, but in real life, it was 0900 hours. He also mentioned that it wasn’t German Fallschirmjägers who attacked, but Ost Battalion 795 of the 709th Infantry Division. He explained that there was an HQ at St. Marie-du-Mont, primarily for the 4th Infantry Division, but the game’s date and time were wrong because the village hadn’t even been secured yet.

Charlie also laughed at the car chase, saying it never happened and would be ridiculous. Driving several miles to St. Marie-du-Mont in a civilian car, dodging German soldiers, was just not realistic. He said walking would have been better. He also pointed out that the 101st’s mission was to secure Carentan, not help defend St. Mere Eglise—that was the 82nd’s job, reinforced by the 507th and 508th PIR.

When it came to the Brecourt Manor mission, Charlie called it baloney. That operation was carried out by Dog and Easy Companies of the 101st Airborne, not the 82nd Airborne.

Playing with Charlie was like getting a history lesson. He had so much knowledge about the actual events, which made me appreciate the real stories even more.

Charlie had a lot to say about the last mission in the game, too. He pointed out that a squad of American paratroopers fighting Germans in a POW camp might be realistic, but doing it covertly was totally fake. That kind of mission would be more suited for the OSS, British SOE, or SAS, not a random squad of paratroopers. He also mentioned that the character we saved would have been executed under the German Commando Order, which mandated the execution of Allied commandos. The character was a Major in the British SAS, and Charlie noted that “Chateau” is French, while in Germany and Austria, it would be called a “Schloss.”

While Charlie might sound like one of those people who nitpick historical inaccuracies in video games, he had firsthand experience—minus the assault on Brecourt Manor and the fake POW camp raid. He didn’t comment on the British and Soviet missions because he didn’t serve in those armies and wasn’t present for battles like Kursk or the Belgorod-Kharkov offensive, or the SAS raid at Capo Murro di Porco. Of course this was in 2003 and 2004 though.

It was interesting to hear his perspective, even if it did make the game seem less realistic. His insights gave me a deeper appreciation for the real history behind the events.

______________________

Present Day, 2010

“With the things I’ve done in the living I’m not afraid to burn in Hell and I’m not afraid to burn here on Earth,” I said as I ate the stew.

I just finished eating my stew, breaking up each piece of meat and making sure to get plenty of elbow noodles and stew juice with every bite.

Dynamite and Avalanche, on the other hand, had already cleaned their plates. Those two are ex-military, so they eat like they’re still in combat zones—fast and efficient, no time to wait for food to cool. It reminds me of farm life, where you eat quickly because the crops and animals won’t wait.

In our firehouse, Dynamite and Avalanche are the only ones with their nicknames stitched onto their turnout jackets instead of their surnames. Well, except for Lusty. When she was a Probationary Firefighter and then a Firefighter, she had both her nickname and surname on her jacket. But once she became Captain and later Lieutenant, it just became Captain Johnson and Lieutenant Johnson. “Lusty” wouldn’t fit, and honestly, she got tired of explaining her nickname. People who don’t know her think it means she’s hypersexual, but really, she just loves to sing. She even put a piece of tape on her locker with her nickname, despite warnings from the department about its inappropriate connotations. But Lusty explained it to HQ, and they never really gave her trouble over it.

Of course, Avalanche, Dynamite, Lusty, and I all fall into two categories for our nicknames:

1. Identification: To distinguish us from others.

2. Convenience: Because our full names can be tricky to use all the time.

For Dynamite and Avalanche, their first names are rare, so their nicknames help with identification. For me, it’s mostly about identification too—there are fourteen other Mackenzies in my family, so nicknames are a must at family gatherings. Lusty, on the other hand, probably chose her nickname for both identification and convenience. Claire and Johnson are common names, and she wanted something that made her stand out. And it definitely does!

I now joke that Lusty should change her nickname to “Keep messing with me and you’ll find out why that’s a bad idea,” but that would be a bit long.

Dynamite, who had just come back with another plate of beef stew, shared a story from a few years ago. It was a week after I left Little Bird and returned to the States. They responded to a car accident in the rain, and Lusty had to deal with an arrogant guy who just wanted to get home after a hard day. Lusty let two parents through because they were worried their kids might be involved in the accident. The guy didn’t like that and started yelling at Lusty, saying he didn’t care about the accident or the blocked road. He even threatened to file a complaint against her and the fire department.

Lusty snapped back, telling him that if he wanted to look like an inhumane jerk, he could go ahead and file the complaint. She pointed out that everyone, including his coworkers, would see him as someone who didn’t care about two families losing their kids in a tragic accident. When the guy did file the complaint, everyone, including his coworkers, gave him dirty looks for being so insensitive. All because he wanted to go home and watch TV.

But to me it doesn’t surprise me that people like him exist in the world and I really don’t care and that he would just have to deal with people who don’t like that not everyone will bend over backwards. But I think him filing that complaint several years back didn’t make him win any popularity awards or anything to make him popular but probably made him unpopular and look like a monster of not caring how two families were torn apart because their kids got into a car accident that left them DOA and well I just know here stuff like that isn’t something to laugh about.

But I know my Clairebear—she’s unapologetic and tough. Growing up in a neighborhood where people backup their words with actions, Lusty always tells her daughters to stand their ground. If someone hits them, they should hit back, not run to a teacher. Lusty knows how useless schools can be with bullies; they often don’t care until the victim fights back, and then the victim is the one in trouble.

Lusty once shared a story with me about dealing with a bully herself. When she defended herself, the school got mad, and the bully’s parents even threatened to sue her family and the school. But Lusty’s dad shut them down, saying they’d look ridiculous in the media because it was clearly self-defense. He reminded them that all five Commonwealths on Little Bird have self-defense laws, making it an open-and-shut case in the eyes of the law and the courts.

But I know the people of Eastside too, and they’re unapologetic. They’re the living definition of “show dominance or the world will eat you alive.” Many folks there are disabled due to military service, injured in combat or training accidents. Some can’t work, so they live off disability and their military pensions. According to some of my family members in the Little Bird military, once they leave active service and move to the reserves or leave the military altogether, they get a monthly stipend. For some, it’s enough to live on comfortably; for others, it’s just scraping by.

I also have family members who, despite knowing better, refuse to “just walk away” and end up facing the consequences. Sometimes it’s better to avoid trouble, but the people of Eastside often don’t have that choice. The justice system and police don’t take crimes in Eastside seriously. Police dispatchers report crimes there like they’re bored out of their minds. So, the people have to become vigilantes, doing what the cops won’t.

Lusty started talking about an incident that happened after I left Little Bird and headed back to the States. A couple demanded a public apology from her and wanted her to pay them three times the value of their house, claiming the Fire Department City of Empire (FDE) failed to save it. They were playing the victim card, calling the loss of their home a “tragedy.”

If this had happened in America, they probably would have set up a donation thing and tugged at people’s heartstrings, even if it was total nonsense. But Lusty, being Lusty, refused to apologize or pay them. They threatened to take her to civil court, but she stood her ground. She even threatened to resign from the Fire Department because she felt HQ cared more about saving face and positive PR than saving lives, to the point of entertaining extortion.

During a meeting with HR at the Fire Department, Lusty was told that my cousin Dave couldn’t sit in. Lusty told them they were leaving and would see the Fire Department in court. As she put it, not allowing a union representative to participate in an interview that could result in disciplinary action would lead to her suing the City of Empire and becoming a millionaire by the end of the day.

Of course, my cousin Dave is a Union Representative for the Firefighters here in the City of Empire. He can’t represent me, his wife Linda, or his brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law because of conflict of interest rules due to family relations. But with Lusty, there’s no family tie, even though he did help her have kids. To the public, it just looks like a male friend helping a female friend have kids with someone she trusts.

Everyone, including me, knows it was just one friend helping another to have kids without going through a list of potential fathers she didn’t fully know. Lusty chose Dave because she had known him for several years and trusted him. Her reasoning was that anyone can write a list of pros, but in reality, they might have nothing but cons. People can easily present themselves as the opposite of what they truly are, so Lusty went with someone she already knew and trusted.

Soon, my phone buzzed with a notification from my mom. She’d posted again, saying that if I ever have kids, she’d throw out any masculine clothing so my nonexistent daughter could wear only feminine clothes. I left a comment reminding her that it’s the 21st century, not the 20th, and that I’d let my daughter wear whatever she’s comfortable in. I even threw in a historical tidbit about the first dress being made between 3482-3102 B.C. in Tarkhan, Egypt.

I muted my phone because I wasn’t in the mood for a comment war with my mom. Instead, I shifted the conversation to family. Some people have extended families, while others don’t, and for me, it’s complicated. I have some nice extended family members, some not-so-nice ones, and some who get taken advantage of.

I shared a story about another female cousin of mine. Her selfish husband kept inviting his family over during her pregnancy, expecting her to cook for them. She finally snapped and told him to “do it yourself” when he asked her to serve dinner. He painted her as the villain for “disrespecting” his family and trying to isolate him. I explained to everyone at the table that she has a medical condition called preeclampsia, which means she can’t be on her feet all the time and needs more breaks than usual because of high blood pressure.

The guys at the firehouse didn’t know what preeclampsia was. Here in Little Bird, sex education and childbirth are taboo topics for anyone under eighteen. Even though we’re Certified First Responders, and some are trained as EMTs or paramedics, we’re not taught about conditions like preeclampsia. That’s more for pediatric doctors. Unless we’re in a dire situation and need to consult a pediatric doctor via radio or phone, we don’t get that kind of training.Of course, we're trained for all sorts of medical emergencies like cardiac arrest, respiratory arrest, shock, drowning, choking, CPR, using AEDs, and treating burns, scrapes, and cuts. Some of us are even trained to handle hypoxia and other advanced medical cases in pre-hospital care. Take Avalanche, for example. She was an Army Mountaineer, so she has specialized training for dealing with hyperthermia, cold-related injuries, and other mountain-related emergencies.

But here's the thing—some of the medical stuff we have, we can't use without approval from a doctor, either over the phone or radio. Sometimes, we need an on-duty emergency doctor to come out and supervise us. But doctors are often too busy to drop everything and guide us over the phone or radio, especially if they're already dealing with other patients. That's why we have emergency doctors who can leave the hospital and come to the scene in a fly car if needed. They can take over, treat the patient, and stabilize them for transport to the hospital by ambulance or helicopter.

Dynamite, on the other hand, was a Combat Engineer in the LBMC. Her medical experience is limited to basic first aid because her training focused on military engineering, tunnel and mine warfare, and construction and demolition duties in and out of combat zones—not providing medical aid.

When I mentioned “Corpsman,” Dynamite quickly corrected me, pointing out that Corpsmen belong to the Navy, not the Marines. That’s true for the U.S. Marines, who share Hospital Corpsman with the Navy. But in the LBMC, they have Battlefield Medics, Combat Medics, and Combat Surgeons. They also have teams providing behind-the-lines medical aid, similar to MASH units (Mobile Army Surgical Hospitals)—not the book, 1969 movie, or 1972-1983 TV show, but the real deal.

Actually, that’s how my cousin Mitchell’s parents met back in 1965. His mom was an Army nurse, and his dad was an American G.I. They met through their work, and married two years later, and the rest is history.

Dynamite and Avalanche both agreed that if they were ever married to men who expected them to act like housewives, it would be a hard no. They’re not the type to let anyone, not even family, dictate their lives. Dynamite mentioned that if she ever had kids, she’d teach them how to shoot with the M1905 Bolt-action rifle. This rifle is Little Bird’s answer to the American M1903 Springfield and the German Mauser Gewehr 98. It’s notorious among inexperienced shooters because it tends to shoot high.

For example, if you aim at an enemy’s upper torso, expecting to hit the chest, the bullet will actually hit the throat or chin. Different models like the Sniper, Carbine, Naval, and National Match versions have their quirks, with the National Match introducing adjustable rear sights.While the Naval and Carbine are the same but the Naval variant was created for the Marines and Little Bird Naval Infantry and made in a way to prevent it from being corroded by salt water and that the sniper variant is made in a way that the receiver is bent to the right or left so instead of it being blocked by the scope the user can load a five round striper clip into the rifle.

Both Dynamite and Avalanche made it clear that if they were married to someone who wanted them to be housewives, they would leave. They refuse to be treated as housewives or slaves, or be with someone who expects them to cook, clean, and have babies all the time.

We then switched gears to talk about technology. Back at the dawn of the 21st century, some scientists here on Little Bird developed a highly advanced digital information system to manage the infrastructure of a metropolitan region. This system, known as mcjiggy, was designed to control various aspects of the city, including:

- Blockers and road spikes

- Bridge access

- Electric grid

- Lights and traffic lights

- The Subway trains

- Underground and above-ground steam pipes

- Crime prediction system

- Security cameras

- ATMs and bank accounts

- TVs and video adverts

- Citizens' private information

- Cellular communications

- Internet-connected devices

- Facial recognition

- Power transformers

However, the system's capabilities were misappropriated for purposes like invasions of privacy and data collection, highlighting its enormous power and security flaws. The "Crime Prediction System" is especially problematic. A skilled hacker could manipulate the system to label an average person as a criminal, issuing fake warrants and sending cops to arrest someone who isn't actually wanted. It's like something straight out of "Nineteen Eighty-Fou.r”

Sure, the system is supposed to help city services run more smoothly, but there are definitely some issues. For example, my girlfriend's old neighborhood is labeled as both a "high crime" and "high risk" area, which feeds into the stereotype that low-income areas are always high crime. The real risk, though, is that a skilled hacker could hack into the system and hold the city hostage until they get paid a ransom.

Thankfully, hospitals here aren't part of this advanced technology network, so a hacker can't hold a hospital hostage. The machines in hospitals operate on a different system, so even if a hospital gets hacked, the hacker wouldn't have control over anything critical.

As they say, you have to take the good with the bad. While this advanced tech does make life easier in many ways, people often don't think about what happens when it falls into the wrong hands.

We've created all this advanced tech—computers, unmanned aircraft, vehicles, even entire unmanned armies—without fully considering what happens if the enemy gets control. It's a huge risk. The military here is definitely aware of this and takes serious measures to protect their systems from being hacked or stolen.

For instance, there are strict protocols and advanced cybersecurity measures in place to safeguard unmanned systems. These include encryption, secure communication channels, and constant monitoring for any signs of intrusion. But even with these precautions, the risk is never zero. A skilled hacker could potentially exploit vulnerabilities, which is why ongoing assessments and updates to security protocols are crucial.

It's a bit like a high-stakes game of cat and mouse, where both sides are constantly trying to outsmart each other. The key is to stay one step ahead and ensure that our defenses are as robust as possible.

Not adding that with AI and that nobody ever stops. What if it stops doing as programmed and goes rouge? Well from what I heard that this country has naive AI to help out with military logistics to make a field army’s logistics be easier than normal but the naive AI are very smart in their pre-programmed field of expertise, but cannot learn anything outside of it’s pre-programmed field of expertise. So there’s not a chance of them going rogue and turning against their creators. But I guess whoever created AI here has seen a lot of those futuristic horror films where AI takes over the world and enslaves humanity or said films being about said AI trying to to enslave humanity because the Three Laws compel our protection at all costs.

But so far I haven’t seen anything gone wrong with this tech in reality yet or the people here who created the advanced tech here have seen many science fiction films where that happens and have put safety measures in place to prevent that from happening.

Advanced tech is a wild ride, and not every country is going to have the latest gadgets. I won’t pretend to know everything about tech, though. It took me a couple of years to figure out how to properly use a smartphone. I was a kid when mobile phones were the size of cinder blocks, and my first phone was a clamshell flip phone. Even then, I rarely used it—just to talk to friends, family, or my dad.

I never added my mother to my contacts. The day she decides to get help and actually becomes a better person is the day all religions admit their respective Gods and Devils have a P.O. Box and can be contacted like normal beings. Or when some religions admit they’re either a sham or a cult.

But honestly, I respect other people’s religious beliefs or lack thereof. I won’t force my views on anyone who isn’t interested. My girlfriend is both agnostic and atheist, and I respect her non-religious ideals. She respects my religious views, even though she thinks all religions are a scam. We make it work because we respect each other’s perspectives.

Out of the blue, Lusty asked me how jumping with the 39th was. That was a few months back, so I told her I paid $180 for the experience. I mentioned how Luna, the CO, really knows her stuff because of her experience. Unlike the stereotypical army officers you see in war movies—petty, spiteful, authoritarian, and egotistical—Luna is the real deal. She’s strict about gun safety, too. When she holds her X16 (M16A1), her trigger finger is always on the trigger guard, not the trigger. Same with her pistol; her trigger finger is either on the guard or the grip with the rest of her fingers.

All soldiers are trained in gun safety. Always treat every gun as if it’s loaded, never point a gun at something you don’t intend to shoot, keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot, and always be aware of your target and what’s around and behind it.

I also told Lusty how Luna looks out for my cousin Mitchell. It might be because Mitchell is married to Luna’s niece, Cadence, or maybe she sees him as the younger brother she never had. Or it could be because he’s the 3rd platoon’s RTO. Probably a mix of all three reasons why she’s so protective of him.

I asked why their uniforms are a darker green than the usual Dark Olive Drab. Dynamite explained that each uniform is coated with an anti-chemical layer to protect soldiers from chemical, biological, and gas attacks. So, while the standard uniform is Dark Olive Drab, the coating makes it appear darker.

Dynamite also mentioned she only knows Luna through scuttlebutt (gossip). Apparently, Luna holds the record for the shortest marriage ever—just eight hours! That’s because gossip has it that her husband left to go get a loaf of bread but used that as a cover for him to cheat on her on their wedding day after they got married. No run to the store to get a loaf of bread takes about ten to twenty minutes not eight hours not adding that Luna followed him because gossip still has it how she still had half a loaf left so she wanted to make sure he was going where she was actually going. Gossip has it that Luna got married sometime after her sister divorced her husband butl the gossip continued with that Luna shot her then husband in the nuts with a handgun but the thing is that Luna’s husband wasn’t her ex brother in law but another guy.

Dynamite mentioned that according to gossip, Luna is the kind of soldier-turned-officer who says, “Don’t worry about it,” meaning we don’t have control over life. She’s the type to reinforce that plans can go wrong. Dynamite and Luna are opposites in many ways—Dynamite is an ex-Marine, while Luna is still an Airborne officer. But they share a practical approach to combat, taking ammo and supplies off dead allies and enemies. They both say, “They don’t need it anymore.” I agree with that; a dead soldier won’t need weapons, ammo, or supplies.

However, Dynamite talks about taking supplies without respect or remorse, while Luna does it respectfully, without disturbing the dead. Despite neither being religious, Luna sees the enemy as humans, just like her, whereas Dynamite saw them as monsters.

I told Dynamite that when I looked Luna in the eyes, I saw someone who accepts death as inevitable in war. She believes there’s no point in worrying about dying in combat. No amount of training can fully prepare you for the real deal—crawling in mud under barbed wire with machine guns firing overhead in boot camp is one thing, but actually getting shot at is another story.

Luna is a professional, plainspoken officer who inspires respect and deference from everyone junior to her. She’s a model leader—calm, unflappable, caring about her men, an excellent tactician, and can hold her own in combat. I can see why Dynamite stayed enlisted in the Marines and didn’t become an NCO. Her nickname, Dynamite, reflects her explosive nature and short temper, which wouldn’t have made her a great NCO or officer.

I also mentioned how Luna has an Edelweiss on her uniform, a mark of a true soldier. Avalanche said those flowers grow at least 1,000 feet up in the Alps. Luna must have gone through a lot to get it, probably between 1999-2000, taking her time to climb the Alps and put it on her combat fatigues.

I mentioned to the table that Luna is the opposite of her sister, who happens to be my cousin Mitchell’s mother-in-law. When Avalanche asked what Luna means, I told her it’s Latin for “Moon.” Dynamite chimed in, saying Luna has more myths than facts surrounding her and suggested I ask Mitchell to confirm or debunk them. I shot down that idea for privacy reasons.

When they asked why Mitchell is always around Luna, even though he’s the Third Platoon’s RTO, I explained that historically, in the Little Bird Army, a platoon RTO is always by the Lieutenant, and a Company RTO is always with the Captain. This has been the case since 1942.

Dynamite brought up an ambiguous situation involving Luna executing several captured Soviet soldiers in cold blood. I defended Luna, explaining that as paratroopers behind enemy lines, they had no way to handle prisoners on an active battlefield. In such situations, they can’t afford to take prisoners with them.

I also think Luna gives special treatment to Mitchell, not just because he’s her nephew-in-law, but because they had a bond long before Cadence and Mitchell got married.

I mentioned how Mitchell says Little Bird Army Paratroopers have explicit permission to execute surrendering soldiers because they’re behind enemy lines with nowhere to send prisoners. Captivity would tie up precious resources, and there’s always the risk that POWs could turn on their captors during a firefight, taking their weapons and rejoining their army.

When I jumped with the company, I paid for the experience. I noticed the 1st Platoon Lieutenant seemed to have watched too many war movies. He thought he had to yell all the time, like those stereotypical officers in films. Sure, yelling makes sense when guns are firing and explosions are going off, drowning out normal voices. But in calm situations, a normal tone works just fine. Unlike Hollywood’s portrayal, soldiers and Marines aren’t always yelling 24/7.

Dynamite and Avalanche both pointed out that in war, both sides operate in morally gray areas, doing questionable things to achieve victory. Here in Little Bird, war films are unique because they don’t shy away from showing the complexities and horrors of war. They present both sides—Allies and Axis—in a neutral light, highlighting how many soldiers were just doing what they had to do, while others took advantage of the chaos to justify their actions.

Avalanche summed it up well. There are three kinds of soldiers in war. First, those who revel in the chaos and commit every war crime under the sun. Second, those who do what they have to do, hoping to make it home. Third, those who don’t want to be there at all but are either there because of family tradition, to be with friends, or because they were drafted.

The war films here on Little Bird are different from Hollywood’s. They don’t just focus on the American perspective. They have the budget to hire actors from different countries or use archival footage to show various perspectives. If a film is set in 1942 or ‘43, you’ll see footage from the American, British, Canadian, other Commonwealth, French Resistance, Soviet, Japanese, German, Italian, and other countries’ points of view. They cover battles like the Battle of Stalingrad and the Malayan campaign, making it clear that World War II was fought on many fronts, not just the American vs. Axis narrative. This approach throws out the trope that “America won World War II” and shows the global scale of the conflict.

War movies here on Little Bird really drive home the point that there are no clear “Good vs. Bad guys.” They show both sides in a neutral light, highlighting that even soldiers on the “good” side can commit war crimes. These films don’t shy away from the moral gray areas, showing how some people in war are morally good, while others take advantage of the chaos to do whatever they want without rules. One film I saw even depicted friendly soldiers executing POWs near their command center, with no attempt to hide it.

The military uniformity here is also quite striking. Everyone has to do at least one tour, which is eighteen months, and they’re disciplined about their appearance. Men and women both have to keep their clothing clean and straight, with no bags or folds. Men are more strict about it, wearing jeans, loafer shoes, socks, a white undershirt, a tucked-in buttoned-up flannel shirt, and a leather belt. Women can wear dresses and skirts, but the same rules about neatness apply. Baggy clothing is a no-go, and the only time I’ve seen men wear shorts is if the sport or activity requires it.

Dynamite mentioned feeling sorry for the Soviet VDV and Spetsnaz soldiers who captured Anderson Island. When I asked what she meant, Lusty explained that throughout the 1930s, Little Bird Naval Planners were busy drawing up plans for a new class of battleship. They aimed to build a ship that could outrange the American Colorado, Tennessee, New Mexico, Pennsylvania, Nevada, New York, Wyoming, Florida, Delaware, South Carolina, Mississippi, Connecticut, Virginia, Maine, Illinois, and Kearsarge class battleships, as well as the Kriegsmarine Bismarck and Scharnhorst class battleships, and the IJN Fuso, Ise, Kawachi, and Nagato classes. They even inadvertently planned to outmatch the American Iowa and Japanese Yamato battleships, which they didn't know about at the time.

The Aurora class battleship was designed to outshoot its American and Japanese counterparts, long before guided missiles were a thing. This was a significant leap in naval warfare capabilities.

Dynamite shared how the Soviets launched a surprise invasion on Anderson Island with two companies of VDV Airborne troops and Spetsnaz. They aimed to capture the island's two airfields, but friendly artillery destroyed the northern airfield, and bombers took out the southern one to prevent Soviet use. According to Dynamite and Avalanche, Little Bird Military doctrine dictates destroying anything of military value to keep it from enemy hands. Once the Soviets captured the island, the Little Bird military made their lives a living hell with constant airstrikes and naval bombardments. A 20-inch H.E.A.P. (High Explosive Armor Piercing) round can obliterate a fixed position and anything within its blast radius. Dynamite mentioned LGBs, 20mm and 30mm cannons, and those massive 20-inch guns, along with cruise missiles. I told Dynamite I know the difference between a cruise and ballistic missile from my time in the U.S. Navy.

When the Soviets occupied Fort Suction via surprise attack, the Little Bird Military treated it like shooting fish in a barrel. The Soviets couldn't break out and faced an enemy that willingly charged their muzzles, running through artillery and gunfire. Some Soviet officers admitted they weren't going to run the Little Bird soldiers back home—they were already home. The Soviets were overconfident and had never fought an opponent with such a will to fight. They compared it to a "Modern Vietnam," with the Soviets in the role of the Americans and the Little Birdens as the Vietcong and NVA. The terrain on Little Bird—mountain peaks, extensive forests, deep rivers, and rich soil—was unfamiliar to the Soviets, making their situation even worse.

Some Soviet officers radioed that they were fighting a different, insane enemy who wouldn't hesitate to call down artillery or an airstrike on their own position and keep fighting like nothing happened. Many Soviet officers thought the invasion would last a few months or years, but the reality was far different. The Fort Suction Police and Militia fought to slow down the invading army, buying time for civilian evacuation until the main army mobilized. The air force blew up three road bridges and four railroad bridges to deny the Soviet advance.

Dynamite summed it up perfectly, “How do you fight an enemy who is willing to come to fight? And fight an enemy that is willing to fight and die?” Here, many people join different special forces branches like the Army Rangers, Army Airborne, Special Forces Group, Mountaineers, Marine Commandos, and Navy Tridents. They don’t sign up for the bonus pay, which they nickname “blood money,” because the missions they undertake would get a normal infantryman killed.

According to Dynamite, basic training is tough, but special forces training is designed to weed out those who can’t make it. Interestingly, it’s often the physically fit who drop out, while those who aren’t as fit usually pass. Instructors instill in their recruits the mindset to “accept that you’re already dead.”

My cousin James the 4th’s wife told me about her time as a partisan fighter during an occupation. She used a scoped version of the M1905 rifle, which is infamous for its bullet trajectory going above where the user aims. She had to aim lower than her intended target to hit it accurately. So if she wanted to hit the head and go for a headshot then she would have to aim where the neck and torso meets.

Dynamite then went on to say how since 1938 the Little Bird Army Corps of Chemical, Biological, Radiological, Gas, and Nuclear Defense have been making military uniforms in an anti-chemical layer. But said that Pre-1950s that it was just called Corps of Chemical Warfare before being renamed.

Dynamite asked what my cousin’s wife did during the war. From what I vaguely know, she sniped Soviet soldiers. The day after she rescued James the 4th, who had been shot down, they were hiding in a bombed-out building. When James asked why she wasn’t shooting, she explained she was waiting for a loud sound, like an explosion, to cover her shot. She masked her shot with a nearby artillery shell explosion. She targeted officers and non-comms first, then relocated after every shot, making a hasty retreat through the sewers. Here on Little Bird, manhole covers are 300 pounds of steel, so they’re not easy to lift. You need a specialized bar, a few people, or a vehicle with reinforced rope to yank them off.

Urban warfare is a deadly game of cat and mouse with snipers and infantry. In cities with many high-rises and skyscrapers, any window on any floor, even rooftops, can hide a sniper. Towers are a different story; military doctrine usually dictates shelling towers from afar because they can be used for sniping and reconnaissance.

Dynamite, after taking a sip of coffee, explained that Little Bird Military doctrine usually states to either shell or capture any building with a tower. The primary goal is to capture it so a forward observer can call down artillery strikes from a clearer vantage point or turn it into an observation post (OP).

She then shared a personal story about how the Marines banned her from calling down artillery. Even though she was a combat engineer, she acted as a forward observer and ended up calling artillery strikes everywhere. She almost brought a building down on another Marine platoon, and 80% of the places she targeted weren’t even near the enemy but close to allies or unoccupied areas.

Dynamite mentioned that Rangers and Airborne units are usually tasked with clearing out areas due to their specialized training.