scopOphilic_micromessaging_1486 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally. (2025)
The Documents and Revealed History of Reginald Hargreeves' Experiments Numbers 8, 12, and 13.
THE COMMISSION. CHAPTER 1
the beginning au intro here.
vida mia. galatea quartet, osvaldo fresedo
NEW YORK. 1963
Diana landed hard.
Concrete scraped her palms, grit biting into skin that still didn’t feel like hers. For a moment she stayed crouched, head bowed, waiting for Reginald’s voice to come from the shadows, for Grace’s hands to seize her shoulders and push her back onto a table.
But there was no voice or cold table. Only the din of the city.
Car horns blared, men in gray suits shouldered past with briefcases, women in pillbox hats clicked by on narrow heels. The air smelled like gasoline, and too many cigarettes.
Diana staggered forward, arms wrapped tight around herself, bumping shoulders with strangers who cursed and kept moving.
“Watch it, doll,” a man barked, brushing past her without slowing.
She flinched as though he’d struck her.
She stumbled down the sidewalk, letting the current of bodies carry her.
She passed a store window - a blur of dresses on headless mannequins, her own reflection pale and wide eyed in the glass. She barely recognized herself.
The noise was unbearable. Vendors shouted, car radios spilled tinny jazz into the air, heels clattered like hammers against the pavement. It was too much, too fast. She needed to sit. To hide.
When the crowd broke around the corner, she followed blindly, running towards the sound of water. A fountain rose amid a forest of shrubs and trees, its spray catching the sun in broken arcs. A forest in the middle of a city? Diana was confused. Lost. She collapsed onto the edge, curling in on herself.
She dug her nails into her palm and tried to breathe past the weight of it all. Kyra and Thriteen. They were supposed to be here. They were supposed to land together.
But this place was just a blur of strangers, faces she didn’t know. No sisters. No one.
Her curls clung damp to her temples. Her shoulders ached. And the city moved on without her.
“Rough day?” a voice spoke from behind her.
Diana’s head snapped up. A woman in a fluffy black dress stood at the edge of the fountain, heels gleaming in the sunlight. Not a hair was out of place beneath her pillbox hat, her gloves folded neatly in one hand.
For a moment, Diana thought she must be hallucinating. No one else in the square looked like that. No one else looked at her like that.
The woman smiled, sharp but warm. “You look lost.”
“I’m not,” Diana rasped, though her cracked voice betrayed her.
“Of course not,” The woman’s gaze lingered, studying the torn hospital shift, the too thin frame. “But even those who aren’t lost could use a little direction now and then.”
Diana swallowed hard. Her legs trembled when she tried to stand but the woman extended a hand without hesitation, steady and gloved. Against all instinct, Diana took it.
⚜
The diner was two blocks away, tucked beneath a buzzing neon sign. Inside, the air smelled of fried onions and strong coffee. A waitress in a starched pink uniform appeared without a word, setting down two slices of warm, flaky apple pie. Diana blinked. She hadn't ordered anything.
The woman across from her stirred her tea slowly. “Eat, darling. You’ll feel better.”
Darling.
Diana picked up her fork with trembling fingers. The pie was too sweet, but she ate it anyway.
The woman leaned forward, resting her chin on one hand. “You don’t belong here,” she said softly, as though sharing a secret. “This city will chew up, spit you out, and forget about you. But me-” Her smile grew. “I don’t forget. I make people useful.”
Diana’s throat tightened. “And if I don’t want to be useful?”
The woman brushed her question off and sipped her tea with elegance that felt rehearsed, her eyes never leaving Diana. “You’ve been very brave,” she said, voice warm enough to pass for kindness. “Landing here with nothing. No one.”
Diana’s chest tightened. She gripped her fork too hard, metal biting into her palm.
“But you’re not really alone, are you?” The woman leaned forward, her smile widening just enough. “Two sisters. Kyra. Thirteen.”
Diana’s head snapped up, curls falling into her eyes. “Where- where are they?”
“Oh, darling,” she purred, savoring the tremor in Diana’s voice. “They’re… out there. Scattered, yes. But not gone. I have ways of finding what you can’t.”
Diana’s breath hitched. “Then tell me-”
The woman’s gloved hand lifted, palm out, silencing her. “Not so fast. I can’t just hand you what you want. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the fairness?” She tapped the table lightly, as if punctuating her words. “No, you don’t have to join me. You can walk out of here right now, and this city will eat you alive. But if you stay-”
Her eyes glittered like the edge of a knife. “If you stay, you’ll have resources. Information. A chance to find them.”
Diana’s fork softly clattered against the plate. Her throat was dry, her vision blurring at the edges.
“So,” The woman leaned back, smile smooth as silk. “Will you sit here like a lost child waiting for the world to notice you? Or will you take my hand, and with it, the only chance you’ll ever have to see them again?”
Diana stared at her plate, the steam from the pie curling upward like smoke. Her hands shook under the table.
Silence stretched. The hum of the diner pressed in around them.
Finally, Diana swallowed. “Take me with you.” The words were small.
The woman’s smile bloomed. She leaned back in the booth satisfied. “Excellent. I knew you had sense tucked away in there somewhere.”
She extended her hand across the table, palm up like a queen expecting a subject to kneel. “My name, since we’re doing introductions, is the Handler. You’ll find I make good on my promises. And soon enough, you’ll be making good on mine.”
Her gloved fingers brushed Diana’s when she finally, reluctantly, placed her hand on her.
Remembering the UFC Hall of Famer and The Ultimate Fighter Season 1 Contender Stephan Bonnar.
Awful news. Stephan Bonnar has passed at 45 years old. Heart complications. Man’s life had been spiraling for a while now due to opioid addiction.
For MMA fans, Bonnar will be remembered for his fight with Forrest Griffin in the finals of TUF 1. The legendary fight is often credited for launching the UFC into mainstream success.
