{"id":6079,"date":"2020-12-25T23:55:34","date_gmt":"2020-12-25T15:55:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.benjamincheah.com\/?p=6079"},"modified":"2020-12-25T23:55:34","modified_gmt":"2020-12-25T15:55:34","slug":"river-of-blood-chapter-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/?p=6079","title":{"rendered":"River of Blood Chapter 2"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Problem Solver<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Dealing with the police consumed the rest of the dark hours. By the time he stepped out of the station, a newborn sun peeked through overcast skies to return light and color to the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyes logged people, vehicles and danger zones as they always did, looking for the intention behind every action, every accessory, every piece of clothing. His heart only knew that the world was a little darker today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sharon was dead. The doctors called it shortly after she arrived at the hospital. He\u2019d known it from the moment he\u2019d treated her. The buckshot had ripped through her lungs and heart. If she had survived the blast, she wouldn\u2019t have lived for long. Even so, he had to try to save her. He wouldn\u2019t have lived with himself otherwise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The cops had confiscated his bouncer uniform as evidence. He had brought a change of clothing in his bag, one of the things he\u2019d learned on the job. While the clothes were freshly laundered, his skin remembered the feel of blood, his nose recalled the iron tang of death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A pair of patrolmen dropped him off at his car. To their amusement, he inspected his vehicle. The windshield and windows, the hood and the engine, the tires and bumper, the underside. Good practice, he told them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t feel like telling them he was looking for bugs and bombs. Either they knew who he was, and therefore needed no explanation, or they didn\u2019t know, and thus wouldn\u2019t understand. Convincing the detectives that the shooting was a hit was hard enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alpha, Beta and Young Buck were hitmen. Not the A team, more like the B or even C team, but amateurs were still as dangerous as pros. Maybe even more so, because no one had told the amateurs what they shouldn\u2019t do, which made them unpredictable. He should have recognized that the moment he\u2019d felt the armor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alpha had been ready to be hit. That meant the confrontation over the ID card was a setup. A distraction for the inevitable police investigation. Why did Alpha try to shoot Will Connor? Simple: Connor had hit him, and Alpha wanted revenge. Occupational hazard of bouncers everywhere in the world, doubly so in Nova Babylonia. That was all the cops would see and would want to see. Few cops dared to challenge the might of the New Gods, and those who did stood alone. And died alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hitters were good. They almost<\/em> had him too. If Alpha or Beta had shot a little straighter, he\u2019d be the one lying in the morgue. They\u2019d caught him in the open without a gun, without hard cover, without any backup. The perfect kill zone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How did he survive? Luck, and bad timing. They\u2019d kicked off the ambush while he was still on the sidewalk. When he was still within leaping range of the streetlight. If they\u2019d opened fire while he was in the middle of the road\u2026 No way he\u2019d live through that. Not if he\u2019d wanted to drag Sharon to safety too. Not without a gun of his own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Part of him raged. If he had a gun, he could have ended it there and then. Kept them from killing her, or at least avenged her. He was a bouncer, a warrior<\/em>, he knew<\/em> that the place was a danger zone, that the New Gods were after him. Why the hell had he walked the streets unarmed?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Peace had broken him. He\u2019d spent weeks, months<\/em>, without carrying a gun. First he justified it by telling himself that it wasn\u2019t worth the risk, that without a permit and the cops watching him, a stop-and-search would land him in hot water. And, yeah, the cops had<\/em> picked him out of a crowd at random for a pat down a few times, and every time they hadn\u2019t found anything they could use against him. But after that, after settling here in Lindon City, a place where the cops didn\u2019t care much about him? He could have carried again. Just that he\u2019d gotten used to not<\/em> carrying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His rational mind rose in his defense. Assuming he had a gun, and had shot it out with the hitters, and won<\/em>. Then what? The cops would haul him<\/em> away instead. The prosecutor would charge him with illegal possession of a firearm, manslaughter, whatever else he could make stick. And then he\u2019d be in deeper waters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What if he\u2019d fled the scene instead? That\u2019d make things even worse. He\u2019d be a fugitive for the rest of his life. He\u2019d give every cop everywhere in Nova Babylonia a reason to hunt him down. When the New Gods\u2014and only<\/em> the New Gods\u2014were stalking him, law enforcement was at least sympathetic towards him. But they\u2019d have no choice but to chase a shooter. A killer. It didn\u2019t matter that it was self-defense. If the gun were illegal, or illegally carried, it crossed the line into unlawful homicide. He\u2019d have to disappear again. This time for good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe he should do that. He had nothing left in Nova Babylonia. No family, no property, nothing anchoring him here. Maybe he should make like Yuri Yamamoto catch the first flight out of the country, make a clean start somewhere else, somewhere the New Gods hadn\u2019t corrupted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And yet\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was daydreaming again. Fatigue weighed him down like lead, pulling his muscles and mind into strange places. He had to focus. Get some sleep. Think about what to do next when he got home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Home. Had he been compromised? Were the hitters waiting for him there to finish the job?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through him, keeping exhaustion at bay. For now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He talked the cops into escorting him home. As he waited three blocks away, the patrolmen circled the area, looking for suspicious people and activity. They reported none and drove away. He made his own rounds. Just in case.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The neighborhood was dead. Three-quarters of Lindon City worked in neighboring Riveria. Just about everybody who held a job or went to school had left long ago. The only people on the street were late shift workers trudging home, gray and faceless, seeking only to crash for a few hours before waking up and repeating the routine all over again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People like him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet not <\/em>like him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled into his parking space. Right in front of him, a twenty-story hunk of brownstone and glass loomed over him, so large it commanded its own city block, so featureless that but for the laundry lines it had nothing for the eye to hold on to. There were few cars around him, all of them unoccupied, their engines off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Passing through the main door, he walked in a tight circle, sweeping every corner of the lift lobby. All clear. He entered the stairwell climbed up to the sixth floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the door, he tapped his eyeshields awake. A new secure connection appeared. The feed to the security camera he had installed inside his home. Armed with a motion detector, it would start recording the second anyone entered the apartment. With his fingers, he scrolled through the augmented reality menu projected on his lenses, checking the archives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No new videos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stepped out into an empty hallway. His apartment was at the leftmost end of the corridor, next to the fire escape. He had taped a strand of hair across the window frame. Low-tech but effective, if anyone opened the window the tape would be broken. It was still intact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He inspected the lock of his door. Weathered but serviceable, no scratches or any sign that it had been picked. Kneeling, he checked a second strand of hair taped across the door and frame. Still intact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Satisfied, he unlocked the door and entered his apartment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A stranger stood in the living room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor exploded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tucking his head, left arm wrapping around his chin and throat, right hand going for his flashlight, he charged the intruder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWait! Stop! I\u2019m not\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor yanked his flashlight free and raised it to his head\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The intruder jumped away\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor stomped his feet, killing his momentum, scraping his shins against the edge of his living room table. He pivoted through a circle, glaring at the intruder, flashlight held high by his temple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet the fuck out of here!\u201d Connor roared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stranger backed away, holding both hands out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMr. Connor! Please! I\u2019m here to help!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho the fuck are you? How the fuck did you get in here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRobert Steele. I represent the Riveria Coven of the Liberated.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor growled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA Speaker of the New Gods.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, not at all. I\u2019m just a representative. Think of me as a\u2026 problem solver.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re the biggest problem I\u2019m facing right now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow, now, there\u2019s no need for violence\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou break into my home and you tell me there\u2019s no need for violence? Get out. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know about last night\u2019s hit. We can help you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor\u2019s eyes narrowed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shouldn\u2019t be surprised. The New Gods had eyes and ears everywhere. It was only a matter of time before they figured out where he lived. The second the police arrived on the scene, the clock had started counting down. He just hadn\u2019t expected to be running against a such a short timer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing good comes from accepting help from the New Gods.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve got a crew of killers after you. I were you, I wouldn\u2019t be so quick to turn me down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you know about the hitters?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet\u2019s step things down a little before we talk some more, alright?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor grunted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And lowered his guard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow did you get in here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele smirked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike I said: I\u2019m a problem solver.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele didn\u2019t look like one, which made him terrifyingly effective at his job. In his pressed gray suit and blue tie, he could have been a salaryman, a salesman, a mid-level corporate type, the kind of man who could disappear into any city anywhere in Nova Babylonia. Short, wavy hair and trimmed eyebrows, dark as night, reinforced the illusion. His sun-kissed skin would blend into any demographic anywhere in Nova Babylonia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His disguise wasn\u2019t perfect. His true nature leaked through the tiny cracks in his carefully-camouflaged shell. His jacket emphasized his broad shoulders and thick neck. His knuckles were huge and swollen, the knuckles of a fighter. Callouses marked his lower palms and the side of his right middle finger, the sign of a serious shooter who worked with handguns with checkered grips and trigger guards. His eyes, black as pitch, swallowed in the world, drinking it down into an abyss deep inside him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Within that abyss, something swam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor turned his eyes to the camera icon on the upper edge of his lenses and blinked hard, three times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat kind of problem are you here to solve?\u201d Connor asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe problem of the hitmen who made a run at you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re my problem.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey killed one of ours. That makes them our<\/em> problem.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSharon?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnn Floyd, alias Sharon, yes. She was part of the Riveria Coven.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A cold wave ran through Connor\u2019s spine. He hadn\u2019t seen that coming. Was that why she tried to get close to him? Because she was under orders from the High Priestess? Or from Namanah herself? That would explain why the watchers had peeled off. They already had someone next to him. Or at least the Liberated had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know what you\u2019re thinking. She\u2019s a civilian. She\u2019s got nothing to do our world,\u201d Steele continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEveryone who worships the New Gods becomes a pawn or a player.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele shrugged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBelieve what you will. Regardless, you need safety, while we demand justice. I think you\u2019ll agree that our interests coincide.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJustice? Why do you care?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome now, Mr. Connor, skepticism doesn\u2019t become you. Namanah is the mother to all her worshipers. What mother would not grieve for the death of a daughter? What mother would not want justice? I have the honor of being the instrument in her hands.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have to drag me along for the ride.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know you, Mr. Connor. You wore the blues once. You were part of the STS. The desire for justice burns in you, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI leave that to the cops now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe killers are connected. The police aren\u2019t going to do anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cConnected? To whom?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dark jewels glinted in Steele\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI assume you\u2019re interested in our offer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAssume that your assumptions makes an ass out of you, not me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele laughed. His hands went to his belly. Connor tensed, until Steele finally relaxed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve identified one of the hitmen,\u201d Steele said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe boy you knocked down. The one you carded before you elbowed his friend. When he fell, he lost his cap, and landed in a pool of street lighting. The bar\u2019s surveillance camera got a good look at his face. We cleaned it up and ran him against our databases. And found a match.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho?<\/em>\u201d Connor insisted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEager, aren\u2019t you? We haven\u2019t agreed to anything yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow do I know you\u2019re on the level?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can tell you that he lives in Riveria. Uptown. Shadow Court turf.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t mean anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThink about it. The Court of Shadows has a mad-on for you. The last time you operated in Riveria, you took down most of their infrastructure, and their allies in the Guzman Cartel.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was a team effort.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, but you also assaulted their Speaker. That<\/em> they can\u2019t forgive. Now that they\u2019ve found you, they sent a team of killers after you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no proof it\u2019s them. All<\/em> of the New Gods have their reasons for coming after me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Including the Liberated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s true. On the other hand, Uptown falls into the Ninth District. It\u2019s been thoroughly compromised by the Court of Shadows. Not only that, Uptown is part of the North Detective Division Area, which is also<\/em> compromised by the Court. If we pass on this information to the Riverian police, they will simply hand it over to the Court. What do you think they\u2019ll do about it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDepends on who the hitter is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, well, I can see three possibilities. One, the hitmen are independents, in which case the Court, and therefore RPD, will do absolutely nothing about them so long as they do not invite trouble to the Court\u2019s doorstep. Two, the hitmen are from a rival faction, and the Court will take care of business themselves. Three, the hitmen belong to the Court, and thus the Court will protect them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn two out of three possibilities, the police will do nothing. Those aren\u2019t betting odds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou could deal with the problem yourself, can\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe could, but Uptown is<\/em> Court territory. Operating there could be\u2026 difficult. Not impossible, of course, but there could be strategic repercussions. Especially in these tense times. We would like to avoid that. You, on the other hand, have no such concerns.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou want me to do your wet work for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m saying we have an opportunity for mutual benefit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m only hearing liabilities so far.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele grinned like a shark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cConsider your position, Mr. Connor. Your enemies know where you live and work. They\u2019ll make another run at you. Even if you take out the hitters, they\u2019ll simply send another wave. And another, and another, and another, until at last they overwhelm you through sheer weight of numbers. You, a mortal, alone and with few resources, cannot hope to fight a god.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe are prepared to help you. To protect you. Do this favor for us, and we will protect you from your enemies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou want me to sell my soul to Namanah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no, you don\u2019t have to. You know, less than half of our coven actively worship her. The others are simply part of the coven for the community. For what we offer to our believers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat kind of religion is that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe simply wish for all people to be free. That\u2019s why we call ourselves the Liberated. We are free to participate in our ceremonies and activities as deeply as we wish, or not at all. Our only law is to do as thou wilt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t buy it. There\u2019s always a price for everything. Especially if it comes from the New Gods.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t have to join us, as I said. But your skills are extremely valuable indeed. In addition to protection, we are prepared to compensate you well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor snorted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t pay me enough to be your pawn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele spread his arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLook around you. A rundown \u2018efficiency\u2019 apartment in a shrinking city, whose only purpose is to house people who work in Riveria and entertain them when they come home. Work as a bouncer in a shady part of town. You could be so much more than this. Let us help you. Everyone who works for us can live like a prince, like a king<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd all you want is my immortal soul.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDramatic, aren\u2019t you? It\u2019s true that we would like to work with you. That we may, from time to time, encounter situations that require the services of someone as\u2026 specialized as yourself. But that\u2019s all we ask. Work that makes full use of your gifts, your training and your experience. The work of a warrior.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need that kind of work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe could postpone discussion of this arrangement if you want. Or we could make this a one-off deal. Regardless, you know that you need our help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m doing just fine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut for how long? I was surprised to learn that you didn\u2019t shoot back at the hitmen. That tells me that you\u2019re unarmed. The only reason a man like you would be unarmed is if you were dis<\/em>armed. That you can\u2019t <\/em>carry, not that you don\u2019t want to. After all, there\u2019s no valid concealed carry permit in your name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure a man as resourceful as yourself has other ways of acquiring weapons. But in the end, you\u2019re alone. After one night, I tracked you here. The next time you return home, you may find someone else waiting for you. Someone who doesn\u2019t have your interests at heart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI could always disappear. Leave the country. Never look back. That way, you\u2019ll win too, wouldn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The words were bitter venom in his mouth. He hated the thought of losing, especially to the New Gods. But what other option did he have?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nowhere on Earth you can hide for long, Mr. Connor. Even you have limits to your resources and capabilities. We will find you again. And if we can find you, so can your enemies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBesides, I know you. I know what you are. You\u2019re the kind of man who can\u2019t let this go, can you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It took every ounce of effort he could muster to keep his face straight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know nothing about me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou have enemies at your back. Enemies who killed an innocent woman. You\u2019re not the kind of man who will walk away from this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Connor growled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele was right. But not entirely right. Connor had no idea who the hitmen were, or why they wanted him dead, or even who sent them. He needed answers. And the fastest way to obtain them was through Steele.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And it might just be the only<\/em> way Sharon would ever see justice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTell me about the hitmen,\u201d Connor said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steele brightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe have a deal?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Before he was a bouncer, he was an elite operator. Check out Will Connor’s story in BABYLON BLUES<\/a>!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Problem Solver Dealing with the police consumed the rest of the dark hours. By the time he stepped out of the station, a newborn sun peeked through overcast skies to return light and color to the world. His eyes logged people, vehicles and danger zones as they always did, looking for the intention behind every […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[68,106,143,168,216,253,269,289],"class_list":["post-6079","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-babylon-red","tag-cyberpunk","tag-free-story","tag-horror","tag-military-science-fiction","tag-pulprev","tag-river-of-blood","tag-singlit"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6079"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6079"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6079\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6079"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6079"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kitsuncheah.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6079"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}