GIRLS KICK ASS! [episode 08]

Welcome to Wherever You Are

In the movie Dark Tower, some of bad guys, “wear” human skins. Who are they?

There are several villains who work for Walter, the Woman in Grey. The most prominent of which are a group of rat-faced humanoid creatures who skinwalk to disguise themselves in our world. These are the Can-toi, a hybrid race descended from the mating of humans with the Taheen. The Taheen are another race of Mid-World humanoid creatures with animal heads. The film has these Can-toi hanging out at the Dixie Pig, a restaurant in New York City that also houses a portal into Mid-World. In the books, the Dixie Pig is also a frequent hang-out spot for vampires, although those particular creatures of the night don’t pop up in the film.

There is that inevitability, though. Careys as the footwear for this Alice gone pretty of hers. A buxom blonde, with flawless gams, stems of breathtaking lily-white flesh, wearing black high-heels, is just to die for, no matter how frumpy she is and how ravaged her face might be.

Gloating over her latest acquisition. The lecherous Walter is quite the female enabler, easily on par with Brooklyn-born financier Baron Jeffrey Epstein’s British confidante Ghislaine Maxwell.

Depravity personified.

“So … what’s their story?”

Lucy points at the five Druids who have just strolled into the lobby. One of them, who is obviously female, is just as obviously their leader.

“It’s not polite to point.”

“Okay … What’s their story?”

“Much better.”


“They come here same time every year.”

“Some kind of cult? The arcane markings on their wrappings are not known to me.”

“I don’t know their business. They call themselves Cthulhu Carafe. Keep to themselves. Respect the house rules. And pay their bills in full on time.”

“A carafe is a wine decanter, isn’t it? And if this Cthulhu fella or chick is some kind of god to them. That means that they fancy themselves some kind of wine decanters for the god Cthulhu.” asks Lucy, between snickers. She’s still fronting that pretty Alice from last night. For some unexplained reason, Lucy is in a humdinger of an intolerant, racist Nazi mood.

Walter is working the desk. The regular day clerk is late.

“I’m sure it’s the result of something lost or mangled in the translation from their native language into ours.”

“Except for the white hoodie and the aforementioned markings. They kit just like other Druids, I’ve seen.”

When they’re on an away, the warrior-clerics of the Druid Federation, wear thick-lensed goggles, horned breather-mask, and head-to-toe Egyptian mummy-wrappings. The goggles are “all seeing”—i.e., hyperspectral imaging googles. And, the thick white gauze wrappings will stop, pointblank, any grenade and NHC-DEW output, and most anti-armor projectile rounds.

NHC-DEW. Non high-compression directed energy weapon.

The Druid weapon of choice is, of course, the staff weapon. Atop this tall gilded staff is something that looks like an archaic 1930s microphone, but, this “microphone” is ornate and encrusted with precious jewels. And, few small arms weapons can equal the “big bore” devastation that a staff weapon’s effector emissions can wrought.

As such. A death ray. The emission of a staff weapon will kill an unprotected person instantly upon contact.

In point of fact, all modern close quarter weapons of the type are collapsible. For example, a vujcic. Like the vujcic, a staff weapon is an ancient weapon that’s collapsible. It’s also magical.

The staff weapon of each Druid is collapsed and holstered. Their holsters are Race Bannons. The holsters of their equipment belts that are equivalent to MACO equipment belts.

It makes sense that the staff weapon is the favorite of Druids, because Druids are demi-gods. Neither mortal nor god, but, a little bit of both, they’re the so-called “missing link” between mortals and gods. Superhuman. Immortal. Cannibals—i.e., they eat human beings, but they don’t eat metahumans or demi-gods like themselves.

“We had another party of Druids in here, once. They never mixed with the Carafe. And …”


“They never returned.”

“Did any of the Carafe visits coincide with your disappearances?”

“One of them, but not the other.”

“Which one?”

“The second one.”

“How long have they been coming here?”

“They’ve been coming here for decades.”

“Ever see one without their disguise?”


“Do they eat in the restaurant?”


“What does the cleaning service say about them?”

“They rent a suite, always the same one. In fact, it’s on recurring reservation. Maid service is suspended for their digs, during the duration of their stay. When they leave, it looks like their rooms were never stayed in.”

“Forensics?  And don’t bother to claim you’re not that nosey.”

“None. Not a single speck.”