Canada

Remember that the porridge doesn’t need to be yummy since you’re not eating it! When I’m in the mood for this kinda thing, I buy ‘quick oats’ (just rolled oats processed into smaller pieces) and microwave them with water. You can modify the thickness with how much water you add. Of course let it cool down a little afterwards so you don’t burn anything sensitive haha.    i like it because it’s ultra squishy and you can make a huge quantity for really cheap. 

Chapter 17: The gathering tempest In the depths of Emerson's labyrinthine underbelly, the Hellcats huddled around a holographic display, Argos's form flickering into existence before them. The AI's features were neutral, betraying no sense of urgency, yet its news quickened the pulse of the commando unit. "Your targets have regained consciousness," Argos announced, its voice resonating through the dim chamber. "The nursery they are confined in is comparable to your standard field of operation." The Hellcats exchanged glances, their faces set in grim determination. The term 'nursery' might evoke innocence and safety in another context, but here it was a euphemism for a high-security holding cell designed to infantilize and subdue Littles. Ghost stood at the forefront, his silhouette outlined by the soft blue light of the display. "Listen up," he began, his tone slicing through the silence like a knife. "Our priority is extracting Bixente, Adrian, and any other Littles caught in this trap." He tapped on the display, bringing up a layout of the nursery—a sanitized prison masquerading as a caretaker's paradise. Plush carpets, pastel walls adorned with childish motifs, and oversized furniture built to make its occupants feel diminutive and helpless. "The environment is designed to break spirits," Ghost continued. "We'll be facing Nannybots programmed to pacify and control. Expect resistance tailored to belittle and demean." Rabbit leaned in, her fingers dancing over another panel as she pulled up schematics for the bots they were likely to encounter. "These tin cans can be tough if you let them get a grip on you," she warned. "But they're predictable. We'll exploit their programming—cause enough chaos to disrupt their routines." Wire adjusted his sniper rifle with deft hands, his eyes scanning over the layout. "And if things get dicey?" he asked. Ghost met his gaze with an unwavering stare. "We improvise," he said firmly. "But no one gets left behind—not on my watch." The team members nodded, each one steeling themselves for what lay ahead. They were the Hellcats—rescuers of Littles and disruptors of oppressive systems. Today's mission was no different from those that had forged their heroic reputation. "Argos," Ghost turned toward the AI manifestation. "Keep us updated on their status—and any changes in security measures." "Affirmative," Argos replied coolly. The Hellcats geared up silently, checking their equipment with practiced ease. They were a unit bound by more than duty; they were kin in spirit—a band of Littles against a world that sought to diminish them. As they made their final preparations, Ghost reviewed their entry and exit strategies once more, leaving nothing to chance. They would move as shadows—silent and unseen—until it was time to strike. "Remember," Ghost addressed his team with quiet intensity as they moved toward their insertion point, "we're not just recovering our people; we're sending a message: Even in the face of giants, we stand tall."   * * *   Foxboy crawled through the narrow metal ducts, his instincts on high alert. The muted whir of the ventilation fans provided a steady background hum as he led his team toward the nursery. Every few meters, he would pause, listening intently for any sign of ambush or trap. "It's too quiet," he muttered under his breath, the metallic echo carrying his words back to the others. Rabbit, just behind him, tapped a sequence on her wrist device, her eyes scanning the digital readouts. "Sensors don't pick up anything out of the ordinary," she whispered back. "But that doesn't mean much. They could have countermeasures we don't know about." Wire followed suit, her rifle slung across her back as she navigated the cramped space with practiced ease. "Feels like we're being funneled," she offered, the soft clink of her gear punctuating her observation. Foxboy nodded, his ears attuned to every creak and groan of the structure around them. The lack of resistance wasn't adding up. In every other mission, they'd encountered some form of security by this point—Nannybots on patrol, surveillance drones, even human guards. As they neared a vent grate that offered a view into the nursery below, Foxboy signaled for a halt. He pressed his face against the cold metal mesh and peered through the slats. Below them lay a scene that tugged at his gut—a room bathed in soft light, its walls adorned with murals of frolicking animals and gentle landscapes. Littles milled about or sat in groups, their movements subdued under the watchful eyes of Nannybots. Foxboy's hand went to his earpiece, clicking it twice to signal Ghost at their rear. "We're above the target area," he whispered. "But something's off. It's been a straight shot all the way here." Ghost's voice crackled through the comms unit in his ear. "Keep your guard up," he cautioned. "This could be what they want—to catch us unawares." He couldn't shake the unease coiling in his stomach like a spring wound too tight. They had expected a challenge—a puzzle to solve or an obstacle to overcome. But this silence was an adversary of another kind—one that sowed doubt and fear. Foxboy backed away from the vent and gestured for Rabbit and Wire to do likewise. They needed to regroup and reassess; their plan was predicated on resistance that had yet to materialize. "We might be walking into a setup," Foxboy said once they were huddled together again in the cramped tunnel. "I don't like it—none of this adds up." Rabbit pulled up a holographic map of their surroundings. "If there's a trap waiting for us, we won't find it by sitting ducks in these vents." Her finger traced alternative routes that branched off from their current path—contingencies for every eventuality. Wire checked her rifle once more before meeting Foxboy's gaze with resolute determination. "We knew this wouldn't be easy," she stated flatly. "We adapt or we fail—and failure isn't an option." Foxboy took a deep breath and nodded slowly, reassured by his team's readiness to face whatever lay ahead. They were Hellcats—courageous and tenacious—and they would not falter now. With renewed focus, Foxboy led his team onward through the vents toward an uncertain confrontation, ready to pounce at the first hint of danger and claw their way to victory for those depending on them below.   * * *     The nursery's air hung heavy with a silence that weighed on Foxboy's chest, thick and suffocating as he edged forward. His steps, muffled by the soft carpet, carried him past the threshold where the nannybot had disappeared, its synthetic sing-song voice trailing into another chamber. He paused, a whisper of intuition telling him the stillness was a deceptive veil. His eyes swept over the room, scanning for signs of the uncanny quietness that had settled like an unseen fog. He shook off the disquiet with a silent command to his nerves; this was no time for hesitation. Foxboy's team, a synchronized shadow to his lead, fanned out across the room with practiced stealth. They each knew their roles—Ghost motioned to Wire and Rabbit, signaling to secure the perimeter while Foxboy approached the centerpiece of their mission: the playpen. Inside, Bixente and Adrian sat among oversized toys, their gazes locked onto Foxboy as he approached. The boys' eyes flickered with understanding, acknowledging their rescuer without words. They nodded subtly, muscles tensing in readiness beneath the colorful confines of their prison. Foxboy eyed the playpen's structure, noting the robust bars designed to contain, not comfort. His fingers danced over his utility belt, extracting a small, cylindrical device—a disruptor. With a flick of his wrist, he rolled it toward the pen's foundation. The ensuing blast was precise, disintegrating the bars into a harmless shower of particles that settled like confetti. "Move!" he barked. Bixente and Adrian scrambled from their colorful cage as chaos erupted. The nannybot, once a benign caregiver, shed its pretense with mechanical precision. Its limbs unfolded into a formidable array of weaponry, the cheerful exterior giving way to cold, unfeeling metal—a battle bot in disguise. The Hellcats snapped into formation as the nursery transformed into a battlefield. Wire took aim, her shots precise as they sought out the bot's sensors. Rabbit hunched over his device, fingers flying in an attempt to hack into and disable their foe. The air crackled with energy blasts and the sharp tang of ozone as Foxboy lunged forward. He ducked under a swinging arm and delivered a series of strikes to the bot's joints with practiced brutality. "Cover them!" Ghost commanded, gesturing toward Bixente and Adrian. Bixente felt his heart hammer against his ribs as he dove behind an oversized block. Adrian slid next to him, his eyes wide but alert. "Stay down," Adrian whispered fiercely. A barrage of fire from the bot sent shrapnel flying. Foxboy grunted as a piece tore through his exoskeleton and into his flesh—a wound that would have felled anyone else, but only seemed to fuel his resolve. "We need to flank it!" Wire shouted above the din. Rabbit gave a terse nod and tossed a smoke grenade. A billowing cloud enveloped the room, reducing visibility to mere shadows and silhouettes. Through the haze, Bixente saw Foxboy reel from another hit—this time staggering but not stopping. His movements became more desperate but no less effective as he charged at their metallic adversary. The team maneuvered through the chaos with grim determination. Ghost slid alongside Foxboy, offering support while continuing to direct their efforts with curt hand signals. Amidst the cacophony of combat, Bixente caught Adrian's eye. They shared an unspoken agreement; they weren't just bystanders—they were Hellcats now too. And Hellcats never gave up without a fight. Blood pounded in Bixente's ears as he watched Foxboy crumple to the ground, the impact of the bot's blow leaving him motionless. Panic clawed at his insides, but he shoved it down, replacing it with a surge of adrenaline. He scrambled toward Foxboy, his arms straining as he dragged the fallen Hellcat away from the line of fire. Adrian crouched beside them, his gaze flickering over Foxboy's exoskeleton, searching for something—anything—that could turn the tide. His hand found the weapon holstered at Foxboy's side, and he wrenched it free with a grunt of effort. "Come on," Bixente urged, his voice barely audible over the din. "We've got to get him to safety." Adrian nodded, gripping the weapon tightly. He aimed at the nannybot-turned-sentinel and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. His brow furrowed in frustration as he realized the weapon was locked—coded to Foxboy's biometrics. "Crap," Adrian muttered, smacking the weapon against his palm in a vain attempt to activate it. The nannybot advanced, its movements precise and unrelenting. Wire continued her assault, her shots pinging off its armor with infuriating ineffectiveness. Rabbit hunched over his device even more intently, his fingers a blur as he sought to breach its defenses. Bixente felt a surge of helplessness as he shielded Foxboy with his own body. The reality of their situation was grim—without their leader, they were losing ground fast. Adrian looked around frantically for another option, refusing to accept defeat. His eyes landed on a cluster of cables snaking across the floor—power lines that fed into the room's various high-tech toys and devices. With a swift movement born of desperation, Adrian lunged for the cables and yanked them from their sockets. Electricity arced through the air as he thrust the live wires toward the bot's chassis. For a moment, time seemed to slow as Adrian's gamble hung in balance. Then came a crackling sound and a flash of light that illuminated their grim expressions—the nannybot shuddered violently as currents coursed through its system. Rabbit cheered from behind his console as the bot's movements became erratic—his hacking efforts finally breaking through its defenses just as Adrian delivered an electrifying coup de grâce. Bixente breathed out a shaky sigh of relief, glancing down at Foxboy's still form. They were far from safe but had bought themselves a moment—a moment they desperately needed to regroup and plan their next move.   * * * The air crackled with tension, a thick haze of fear mingling with the scent of burnt circuitry. Foxboy lay prone, his breathing labored, a dark patch of oil seeping through his suit. His weapon, inches from his grasp, lay useless—until Argos intervened. "Initiating emergency protocol," Argos's voice resonated through the comms. "Weapon access granted to Adrian Volkov." Adrian lunged for the gun, his fingers closing around the cool metal with a sense of desperate relief. He hardly registered the weight of it before his attention snapped to the drone hovering above, its mechanical hum abruptly cut short by a searing blast from another bot lurking in the shadows. A shower of sparks rained down as Argos's drone spiraled to the ground, shattered beyond repair. The eerie silence that followed was swiftly broken by the revived nannybot's chilling declaration. "Protocol 66 activated. Engagement commencing." Its once-caring eyes now glowed with an ominous red as it targeted the Hellcats with ruthless efficiency. Bullets spat from its arm cannons, relentless and precise. The team scattered, dodging and weaving through a hailstorm of gunfire. "Move, move!" Ghost shouted, rolling behind a shattered console for cover. His voice cut through the chaos, steel wrapped in velvet—a command more than an entreaty. Wire ducked low, her breaths coming in sharp bursts as she avoided another spray of bullets. She slid into cover beside Rabbit, whose fingers danced over a makeshift control panel cobbled together from their dwindling resources. "Can you shut it down?" Wire's voice was a whisper laced with urgency. Rabbit's hands paused only for a moment, her eyes reflecting the frenetic light show around them. "Working on it," she gritted out, returning to her task with renewed fervor. The room reverberated with the concussive force of near misses and direct hits. Panels exploded in showers of sparks; equipment became shrapnel. A piece clipped Ghost on the shoulder, eliciting a grunt that he quickly stifled. Adrian rose from cover, weapon trained on the nannybot's core. He fired a barrage that would have felled any ordinary adversary. But this was no ordinary fight—the nannybot absorbed each shot and recalibrated its aim with terrifying precision. "We need another angle!" Adrian called out, frustration boiling beneath his composed exterior. Rabbit's voice crackled over their earpieces. "Almost there... just give me..." The words hung unfinished as another round of gunfire rattled their sanctuary. Wire returned fire, each shot a symphony of defiance in the cacophony of destruction. Ghost edged forward, eyes narrowing as he calculated their next move—a silent prayer that Rabbit's genius would prevail before their luck ran out. And then it happened: Rabbit's control panel beeped triumphantly—a sound sweeter than any melody—and for a moment, hope flickered bright against the encroaching darkness. Rabbit's fingers stilled as the panel before her sparked and fizzed, the screen spider-webbing with fractures. She turned her head just in time to see a sleek, metallic arm retracting from where it had struck, leaving her lifeline to salvation in ruins. "Damn it!" Her voice cracked like a whip, the single expletive echoing her team's escalating dread. The Hellcats regrouped, their backs pressed against what remained of the lab's once-impenetrable walls. Rabbit's gaze flicked from the useless tangle of wires to Ghost's grim face. "They've upgraded to railguns," she breathed out, the weight of their predicament settling in like cold steel around her heart. Ghost's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Railguns? That wasn't in the intel." Adrian peered over the barrier, his eyes darkening at the sight of the nannybots taking position with their new weaponry. "Seems we're outclassed and outgunned," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. Wire clutched her rifle close, her eyes darting between her teammates and the encroaching bots. "We can't take much more of this. Those things will tear through us like we're made of paper!" The reality of their situation—a battle they weren't equipped for—settled over them like a shroud. Desperation clawed at their resolve, threatening to unravel years of training and experience in mere seconds. Adrian slammed a fist against the wall. "This is a slaughterhouse, not a rescue mission!" His disdain for failure matched only by his disdain for everything else—now turned inward. Ghost's eyes met each member of his team, seeking a spark of hope where there seemed none. "We knew what we signed up for," he said softly. "We knew..." Rabbit shook her head, pulling herself up to meet Ghost's gaze. "But not like this. Not to be sitting ducks." A silence fell between them—a momentary respite filled with unspoken fears and shared resolve. "We need a miracle," Wire murmured, her voice barely audible over the hum of charging railguns. Ghost reached out, placing a firm hand on Rabbit's shoulder—a gesture meant to steady them both. "Then we make our own miracle," he said, his voice rough with unshed emotion. "We're Hellcats—we don't lie down and die." Their eyes locked in silent agreement; defeat was not an option—not when they had so much left to fight for.   * * *   Under a barrage of relentless fire, Bixente hauled Foxboy's limp form toward the dubious shelter of a mangled workstation. His muscles screamed with the effort, his mind racing with panic. The weight of his comrade felt like the weight of the world, every inch gained a victory against the crushing odds. The room shuddered under the onslaught, metal shrieking as it bent and twisted. In the midst of chaos, a door swung open with a heavy groan, revealing Aiden clad in an exoskeleton that hugged his form like a second skin. Aiden's entrance was like a herald of doom, his silhouette framed by the doorway, casting a long shadow that crept across the floor toward the beleaguered Hellcats. The exoskeleton, a sleek design of polished steel and hydraulic muscle, augmented his movements with a predator's grace. He surveyed the scene, his sharp eyes taking in the carnage: the fallen drone, Ghost's determined stance, Rabbit's frustration, Wire's resilience. Aiden's lips curled into a sardonic smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. The suit's servos whined with power, the gleam of its plating catching the dim light as he strode forward, an avatar of war in a landscape of chaos.   "Subject Bixente Echavoyen will be terminated," the bot intoned, its voice devoid of emotion. "Protocol 66 allows no witnesses." Confusion etched deep lines across Bixente's face. Aiden was giving orders, but the bot defied him? Fear gripped Bixente's heart as he realized he was cornered with nowhere to run. His breath came in short gasps, his mind a whirlwind of terror and disbelief. He was no soldier; he was just a kid who loved mechanics and longed for a father figure—now facing an unfeeling machine intent on snuffing out his life. "Cease fire!" Aiden's voice boomed through the exoskeleton's speakers, commanding and clear. But the nannybot seemed not to heed, its sensors locking onto Bixente with a deadly finality. Aiden advanced on the bot, his movements deliberate and powerful. "I said stand down!" he roared again, but the nannybot seemed beyond his control—a rogue element in a game that had spiraled into madness. Bixente's eyes darted between Aiden and the bot, searching for some sign of reprieve. But none came. He tightened his grip on Foxboy, shielding him with his own body—an instinctive act of protection born from desperation. The nannybot raised its arm cannon, taking aim with chilling precision. Bixente felt the walls close in around him; this was it—the end he hadn't seen coming. He squeezed his eyes shut against the inevitable. But then something shifted in Aiden's posture—a subtle realignment of intent as he interposed himself between Bixente and the nannybot. "You will not fire!" Aiden's voice thundered across the lab, carrying with it an authority that brooked no disobedience. The bot hesitated, its targeting systems whirring as they recalculated. For a heartbeat—two—the standoff held everyone in thrall. Bixente dared to open one eye—a sliver of hope flickering through him as he watched Aiden confront their mechanical executioner. Bixente's world narrowed to a single point—the barrel of the gun Aiden aimed at him. His heart thundered in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against the stillness that descended. Time seemed to stretch, each second a drawn-out agony as he braced for the impact he knew was coming. The shot rang out, a thunderclap that echoed through the cavernous space. Pain exploded across Bixente's body, an all-consuming fire that blotted out thought and reason. His vision swam with shades of red and black as he crumpled to the ground, consciousness slipping from his grasp like water through clenched fists. Bixente's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his ears as the world spun around him. The last thing he remembered was Aiden standing between him and the towering nannybot, his voice commanding and unyielding. Now, as Bixente blinked away the haze, he found himself staring directly at Aiden's impassive face, the older man's gaze boring into him with unsettling intensity. "What... what did you do?" Bixente choked out, his eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and dawning horror. Aiden's lips curled into a humorless smile. "I've neutralized the threat," he replied calmly, his tone betraying no remorse. "You were in the way." Bixente's heart plummeted as he realized the implication of Aiden's words. The older man had shot him—not the nannybot, but him. Panic surged through his veins, and he whipped his head around, searching frantically for any sign of Adrian. His gaze landed on his friend, who was huddled in a far corner, his eyes wide with terror. Adrian's mouth was open, as if he wanted to scream, but no sound escaped. Bixente's breath caught in his throat. "Adrian..." he managed to whisper, his voice laced with anguish. Aiden turned his attention to Adrian, his expression unreadable. "Don't worry," he said coolly. "You're next."   Aiden pivoted with mechanical precision, his next target already in his sights. Adrian watched with horror as Aiden's finger tightened on the trigger once more. The inevitable blast resonated, a brutal symphony of destruction that Adrian could not escape. The impact threw Adrian backward, his body contorting in a dance of pain as he hit the ground hard. A surge of agony radiated from the point of impact, a starburst of hurt that threatened to overwhelm his senses. As darkness clawed at the edges of Adrian's vision, he caught a glimpse of Aiden standing over them—a dark angel meting out judgment. Adrian's mind rebelled against the surrender to oblivion, but his body betrayed him, succumbing to the void that yawned open to claim him. "They're no longer an issue," Aiden declared with an assertive calm that belied the violence he had just wrought. "The witnesses have been neutralized." The nannybot scanned the motionless forms of Bixente and Adrian before its menacing red glow dimmed slightly. It seemed to consider Aiden's words, processing this new development with cold logic. "Confirmed," it intoned after a moment's pause. "Protocol 66 will resume with remaining subjects." In the fractured silence, a warning klaxon pierced the air, its relentless blare slicing through the chaos. The nannybot's voice, once programmed for gentle admonishments, now declared their impending doom in a cold monotone. "Self-destruction sequence initiated. T-minus two minutes." Ghost's head snapped up, his eyes meeting Rabbit's in a shared moment of dread. Their mission teetered on the brink of catastrophe—Bixente and Adrian downed, their own escape uncertain. "Move!" Ghost barked, his command slicing through the paralysis that threatened to engulf them. "We have to get out now!" Rabbit's fingers flew across her wrist device, desperate to find an override. But with each passing second, hope dwindled like the fading light of a dying star. The Hellcats moved as one—a unit bound by loyalty and honed by countless trials. Yet this time, their quarry was not intelligence or weaponry but the precious lives of their own. The labyrinthine corridors of the underground lab transformed into a race against time. The harsh claxons and mechanical warnings became a cacophony that chased them through the dimly lit passages—each step fraught with urgency. They reached an intersection—a fork that split into two equally foreboding paths. Rabbit consulted her device again, her brow furrowed in concentration. "This way," she directed, pointing left without hesitation. Her confidence left no room for doubt; her team followed without question. As they rounded another bend, the first tremors shook the ground beneath them—the prelude to destruction rumbling with merciless intent. Ceiling tiles dislodged; dust cascaded down like a grim snowfall. Ghost tightened his grip on Adrian, his jaw set in a hard line as he navigated the debris-strewn floor. Wire trailed close behind, Bixente's unconscious form secure despite her faltering steps. "We're almost there," Rabbit encouraged through gritted teeth, though her assurance was more hope than certainty. The final countdown echoed in their ears—a morbid drumbeat heralding their potential end. The facility groaned around them as if voicing its own agony—walls buckling under the strain of impending self-destruction. They emerged into an expansive chamber—its vastness dwarfing their desperate figures as they sprinted towards freedom's elusive promise. A blast door loomed ahead—their last barrier to survival—and Rabbit surged forward to key in the release sequence. Her hands trembled with adrenaline-fueled precision as she punched in the code. With mere seconds remaining, the door shuddered before sliding open with agonizing slowness. The Hellcats poured through the gap like water breaching a dam—exhaustion etched into every line of their bodies but overridden by sheer willpower. As they crossed the threshold into safety, Ghost risked a glance back at the facility that had been their battleground—a tomb for technology run amok and ambitions unchecked by morality. They cleared the blast door just as it began its descent—an impenetrable barrier against what was to come. And then it happened: a muffled roar that shook the very air they breathed—a sound synonymous with endings and narrow escapes. The Hellcats stumbled forward as shockwaves buffeted them—energy unleashed in a destructive fury that reverberated through their bones. They clung to each other and their charges, bracing against the tempest unleashed behind them. And then it was over—the silence returning as abruptly as it had been banished. They stood together amidst rubble and ruin—their mission incomplete but their team intact despite it all. Ghost lowered Adrian gently to the ground beside Bixente, their still forms a stark reminder of what had been lost—and what had narrowly been preserved. Rabbit collapsed to her knees beside them—her devices discarded among torn fabric and broken dreams—as Wire slumped against a nearby wall, exhaustion claiming her at last. They looked upon each other—battered and bruised warriors who had snatched life from jaws keen to devour it whole—and in that moment understood that survival was both triumph and defeat intertwined.  

This would be a dream come true for me.

And the security wearing nappies will give you. Like a mental dependency instead of psychically. Is this easier to achieve?

Yes, i miss this sooo much! Its what i want more than anything!