Topher Lydon

Giorgio: living his best life, wearing a dead philosopher's blazer, planning a shrine, feeling legendary. Ellis: sniff sniff "Is that... eleven years of unbroken integrity... mixed with... McDonald's grease? On MY philosopher's coat? Some two-bit hustler in Milan just one-upped ME at the crossroads?" Giorgio is about to learn that there are fates worse than being a junk-bond soul salesman behind a McDonald's. He's going to wish he'd stuck to selling metaphysical pennies. Ellis doesn't just want the blazer back. He wants to make an example. The kind of example that demons whisper about for centuries. The kind that involves very slow, very creative, very eternal suffering. On the scale of 1 to Eternally Screwed, Giorgio is currently sitting at "Oh look, a nice man in a suit wants to talk to me about my blazer. How nice—" and the needle is about to peg into "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" for the rest of time. Poor Giorgio. He just wanted a little clout.

It should be noted, however, that Pink now has two strikes against her team.

I may have a slight organizational problem

We're starting to see the Archivist's rules. If two separate groups rebel, or conspire. The team is immediately broken up, a trade occours, and a new challenge card is drawn for both teams. Orange is a GRADE A prick, Blue seems to actually care a bit and tries to intervene, Pink is a self insert. Green is lurking, ready for their entrance.

Embarrassingly, I do own a label maker...

Tim sorts them out. Justin makes a few mistakes in this chapter that come back to bite him. He is, for want of a better expression, his own worst enemy.

BTS: I use Miller as a placeholder name, which is why we get a lot of Millers in my stories It's an easy find and replace name I can usually edit out. I forgot to do that with Sam's mom, so a hasty edit to Milne and we have it. For those interested, I spent my childhood growing up next to the 100-Acre Wood. Used to play in it regularly.

There's a cup of coffee with my name on it right in front of me. Let's see if Today is a better day

Chapter 11: The Pariah Protocol The black Chevy Malibu was a ghost in Justin’s mind, a constant, lurking threat that made the familiar streets of his own neighborhood feel like hostile territory. He pulled his pickup to the curb in front of a modest, well-kept split-level house, the kind with a perfectly manicured lawn and a faded plastic playset in the side yard. Ashley was already there, leaning against his own beat-up sedan, looking as out of place as Justin felt.

Heretic

Enjoy the next book, it is intense... Will is ANGRY and an Angry Will is a deadly one.

I like the idea that Mr. Hartley is on a journey like the rest of the gang.

Tyler, I am finding as I write him, is just chill and mellows out everyone around him.

Old Mr. Hartley is entertaining, his poor Jag keeps getting set on fire...

He handed over about 50 pounds extra, and D just claimed it. Being the kind of dick that he is. And Mr. Hartley is all right, his politics is weird, but he does love his family.

Well, Mr. Hartley being Mr. Hartley

Chapter Eleven Friday arrived like a held breath. Taine had spent the past forty-eight hours in a fog of group chats and clandestine meetings, watching his—Charlie's—possessions disappear one by one into the hands of strangers. The clothes. The trainers. The gold chains. The designer clothes that Taine wouldn't have been caught dead in even if he'd had a choice. And the watch. Michael's watch. He didn't regret it. He couldn't regre

HA, it would be typical Justin if it did

We now know the identity of TWO of the archivists... and Blue: Marc Pink: Chloe Orange:??? Orange is the one running the freshmen.

Standing on a toilet seat. Works every time

oh and Justin, not the brains of the operation