How you got all the precious metal, and how you created the dragons, is up to you.

[Fragment #B12: Intercepted Lexic Broadcast, Source Unverified]

Filed Under: [Phenomenalogics: Applied Kidnapathy], [Connotics: Ethical Ransoming], [Bureau of Intentional Irony], [Tone: Curt and Inconvenient]

Transcript begins with stattic, a cough, and the sound of someone adjusting their ethical posture.

“So let me get this straight,” said Director Hallow, pinching the bridge of his nose so hard it nearly filed for asylum. “You kidnapped my daughter.”

Across the scryline, the kidnapper squinted at a page of badly stapled notes.
“I wouldn’t say kidnapped. I relocated her. Temporarily. With benevolent disregard for permission.”

“You pulled her from her school, using what appears to be a singing wardrobe, and whisked her off to the Outer Fractal. That’s kidnapping!”

“I sang politely. And gave her lemon biscuits.” The kidnnapper adjusted their cravat. “I am not a monster.”

“And now you’re calling to demand ransom?”

“Yes. Quite. Finally got your direct line. Bureaucracy’s a nightmare.. you wouldn’t believe the bribe I had to pay to get access to the Ministry of Parental Routing.”

The Director’s voice was the sound of teeth trying to commit crimes.
“She had Blackglass Fever. It was terminal. Untreatable. Every certified Seer marked her with three skulls and a shrug. And now she’s… cured?”

“Yes. Absolutely thriving. We've replaced the faulty memories with goat dreams to reduce relapse.”

“You cured her?”
“Yes.”
“And now you're extorting me?”
“Well, obviously.”
“Why now!?”

The kidnapper leaned in toward the scry-plate, their voice low and weirdly cheerful.
“Well, your daughter was going to be useless to me dead.”

Silence. A long one. The kind that chrcks the exits.

Background Noise: Shuffling. Sighing.

“I don’t even know what you want,” said Hallow, voice cracking slightly. “Money? Influence? The contents of my library?”

“Oh, no, nothing so crude.” The kidnapper unrolled a scroll labelled MODERATELY INCONVENIENT REQUESTS.

“I need you to sponsor her apprenticeship.”

“What?”

“She’s taken a strong liking to Chrono-Syntaxic Law Distortion. I have no clue how it works. She thinks it’s hilarious.”

“That field is banned in seventeen territories.”

“Exactly. That’s how you know it’s good.”

“I can’t..”

“She’s built a watch that makes you regret things before you do them. She’s nine.”

Another pause. The Director stared into the plate like it owed him a simpler life.

“She’s happy?”
“Yes.”
“She’s safe?”
“Absolutely. Eats nothing but chronofruit and hexed chocolate, but otherwise thriving.”
“...And she chose this?”

“She initiated the paperwork herself. In crayon, admittedly.”

The Director exhaled like his dignity had just caught fire.

“What’s the ransom, then?”

“A formal letter of recommendation to the Academy of Magical Misinterpretation. Preferably scented.”

Closing Note:

The daughter in question, codename “Peach-Unit Gamma,” later published the thesis “Temporal Etiquette and the Weaponisation of Good Intentions.” It won an award for Most Likely To Reshape Causality Out of Spite.

// Hello! This is my take on this thread https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1kln2dc/wp_so_let_me_get_this_straight_you_kidnapped_my/
Apologies if the formatting’s off.. I'm a long time admirer of WritingPrompts, but this is my first time actually posting one of my silly little writing experiments (made a fresh account just for it). Writing’s always been my way of yanking anxiety’s trousers down and booting it out the door. Hope you enjoyed!

edit: fixed some words. Probably missed others.

Sandia National Laboratories nuclear waste warning for future generation.

Original post here.

I’d hoped to have this up by a certain holiday, but the story kept sprawling—too many ideas, too little time—so the deadline slipped. Better late than never, though. Hope you enjoy!

........

Atlas City Central Park was known as a rare oasis in the heart of a bustling metropolis. Families picnicked on its wide green lawns.

Joggers circled the serene pond. Children tossed crumbs to ducks, while workers napped beneath the rustling shade of old trees.

But today, that peace was shattered.

Crowds surged through the park—onlookers, journalists, news crews—trampling the grass and scattering the birds. The calm was gone, replaced by a frenzy.

Because something impossible had happened.

Metron—the faithful defender of Earth, the shining paragon of Atlas City, and one of the longest-serving heroes alive— had been taken down.

And it's not by some alien warlord or world-ending menace… But a newbie supervillain no one had ever heard of.

Dimension Interrupting Void Accelerator—DIVA, for short. It's the name of a teenage villainess. She made her debut in the middle of a clash between the Turtle Gang and the Mega Men, two local groups locked in their usual chaotic skirmish.

In less than a minute, she'd teleported the gang leader straight into a police holding cell and buried the heroes in the ground like cartoon carrots.

Then Metron—the towering mech-hero of Atlas City—intervened. DIVA challenged him and overwhelmed the hero with the power of… puppies!

Yeah. You heard that right.

Puppies! Baby dogs! DIVA held up a tail wagging golden retriever and declared.

The puppy vanished.
Then reappeared—wedged adorably into Metron’s chest plate like a fuzzy, wriggling trophy.

There were already several puppies planted throughout the mech suit, yipping and sniffing,begging for petting and treats.

“Stay STILL!” DIVA bellowed, “Or the heads of these pathetic creatures roll where you stand!”