[Archived: 2020-07-09] Testing Testing

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Lorem Ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing and typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum has been the industry's standard dummy text ever since the 1500s, when an unknown printer took a galley of type and scrambled it to make a type specimen book. It has survived not only five centuries, but also the leap into electronic typesetting, remaining essentially unchanged.



It was popularised in the 1960s with the release of Letraset sheets containing Lorem Ipsum passages, and more recently with desktop publishing software like Aldus PageMaker including versions of Lorem Ipsum.



It is a long established fact that a reader will be distracted by the readable content of a page when looking at its layout. The point of using Lorem Ipsum is that it has a more-or-less normal distribution of letters, as opposed to using 'Content here, content here', making it look like readable English.  



Many desktop publishing packages and web page editors now use Lorem Ipsum as their default model text, and a search for 'lorem ipsum' will uncover many web sites still in their infancy. Various versions have evolved over the years, sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose (injected humour and the like).

“Goodness me, that girl is such a workaholic,” sighed the captain of the marine ship anchored a short distance away from Baterilla, watching the small wooden rowboat slowly approach the docks. “It was so surprising when she said she wanted to come to Baterilla. I suppose even she needs a holiday every now and again.”

A lone woman occupied the rowboat, having refused assistance when offered it despite the inaccessibility of her legs, the only reason she offered being, “I can use my arms just fine.” Her electric wheelchair was across from her and when she reached the docks, the captain observed her through a pair of shiny binoculars, even though he refused to admit his distress for her safety.

“Captain Patch, will we be setting back for Centaurea soon?” asked a seaman.

“Yes, yes, soon,” mumbled the captain absentmindedly, before suddenly swinging the binoculars at him. “Are you crazy?! What if something happens to Fran?!”

“Y-yessir!” stammered the seaman, tears falling from his eyes while he clutched his head in pain. “But...sir, she said she wanted to be left alone and to come back tomorrow evening. Won't she be mad if she finds out we stayed?”

His crew had mostly gotten used to the captain’s fatherly protective nature over his protege, but there were times they couldn’t help feeling sympathetic for him, given that she seemed intent in ditching him whenever possible. But attempt after attempt had failed and this might have largely been owing to the fact that her first major disappearance had made the old man quite paranoid.

“What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her,” replied Patch with a rebellious huff, before donning the binoculars again. “Damn...she’s already gone.”

Fran sighed, wheeling herself down the bustling streets of Baterilla. The contrast between the decrepit state of her own hometown was so jarring, she couldn’t exactly bring herself to relax despite the atmosphere. But she was in desperate need to get away from the suffocating presence of her adoptive father, so desperate she was that she was willing to give the thing called a “holiday” a try. Whatever that meant.

As she made her way through the street of Beach Hope—its popularity among tourists clear with the number of people—she heard a mutter from one of the pedestrians above her, “Out of the way, cripple.” A shadow passed over her features and a vein twitched on her forehead.

“Hold it, punk,” she snarled, snatching his wrist as he passed, her sensitive ears at least able enough to pick out the exact “punk” she was after without mistaking him for another. “Care to repeat yourself?”

The boy she had caught only appeared around fourteen and was what she could only identify as a wannabe “surfer boy” with tanned, orange skin and bleached blonde hair. She didn’t care enough to take in any other features besides this point, only noting with distaste that his flower print shirt was left slovenly open to reveal his stomach.

“Let go, cripple,” snapped the boy. “I have places to be-OW!”

It was like the blow had come from nowhere, from an impossible angle if it had been the disabled woman who had conked him over the head.

“Who was that?” he cried angrily, twisting and turning his bruised head in search for the offender.

“Down here, idiot,” she replied cooly, bringing his attention back down to her.

Hidden in her hand with the spacious sleeves of her kimono was the pile of coins she had used to initiate the blow. With a well-versed flick of her thumb, she could shoot a coin from her hand in the same manner a bullet would be fired from a gun. A second coin was fired to serve as the platform for the first coin coin to use to ricochet off, allowing her to make an invisible attack from an angle that was seemingly impossible for her to make.

“You?!” the boy’s eyes widened with disbelief, ogling the disabled woman he had just moments ago insulted. His eyes fell down to her legs and another blow landed on his forehead.

“Eyes up here,” she grunted, her patience having run dry. “My, who taught you your manners? I wouldn’t mind a word.”

She tilted her head to the side expectantly, her scarlet eyes peering a scorching hole into the boy. He gulped.

“Well, lead the way?” she suggested with no shortage of intimidation and he relented with a humiliated sigh.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, turning away and trudging through the crowd with Fran tailing him, expertly avoiding the stampede. “You gonna tell me who you are?”

“No,” she said bluntly.

“I’m Yoon,” he said with a hint of hope in his voice.

“I’m still none of your business,” she replied and he sighed dejectedly.

As they neared their destination, what was wrong was made increasingly clear. They passed a trail of blood and when Yoon traced it to its origin, he let out a fearful gasp and immediately took off, leaving the disabled woman behind. She clicked her tongue, perhaps disapproving his impatience before making her way steadily after him. By the time Fran had arrived at the place with the anchor and wheel, he had already long since disappeared into it. But as she entered, Yoon was making a dash back out and nearly toppled over her.

“I-I,” he stammered, fearfully steadying her chair, his voice trembling.

His fright was enough for even Fran to excuse him for nearly pushing her over and she merely  maneuvered the boy out of her way to peer behind him at the carnage. Her eyes swept over the ruins before stopping and narrowing suspiciously at the black-haired boy, who appeared to be around her own age, and the elderly man beside him.

Cautiously, she dipped her hand into the compartment on the side of her wheelchair. So much for her holiday. Whatever that was.