WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Extreme swearing. UNCENSORED. SMARTER.
I took the original models in "L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot 8B" and completely rebuilt it a new pass-through merge (everything preserved) and blew it out to over 16.5 billion parameters - 642 tensors, 71 layers (8B original has 32 layers).
This is not an "upscale" or "franken merge" but a completely new model based on the models used to construct "L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot 8B".
What is "Grand Horror" ?
GRAND HORROR is a take no prisoners, totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
As a result of the expansion / merge re-build its level of prose and story generation has significantly improved as well as word choice, sentence structure as well as default output levels and lengths.
It also has a STRONG horror bias, although it will generate content for almost any genre. That being said if there is a "hint" of things going wrong... they will.
It will also swear (R-18) like there is no tomorrow at times and "dark" characters will be VERY dark so to speak.
Model excels in details (real and "constructed"), descriptions, similes and metaphors.
I would also say it can have a sense of humor ... ah... dark humor.
With all this being said, this model has an uncanny sense of "there" , "in the moment" and timing too. This single quality sets it apart from other models in my opinion.
Although it swears to the point of pealing paint off the wall and goes scorched Earth graphic horror at the drop of a pin the single quality noted is worth it.
These can be filtered / controlled to some degree in your prompts.
This model also does not show an "GPTisms" (NO happy ever after, NO morality police) or in your face "Captain Obvious" comments.
May these special types of "story telling horror" rest in peace.
(see examples sections for different genres)
Because of the nature of this merge most attributes of each of the 3 models will be in this rebuilt 16.5B model as opposed to the original 8B model where some of one or more of the model's features and/or strengths maybe reduced or overshadowed.
Other Versions of GRAND HORROR (in release order):
Note that model output varies between versions - if you find one version does not meet your requirements, try a different version at same quant(s) level.
Differences can include use of adjectives (or not), "gory level", "horror level", intensity, paragraph and sentence structure etc etc.
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-17.4B-V1.7-STABLE-Kiss-Of-Death-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Llama3-Little-LLM-Of-Horror_N_Fiction-14.6B-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF ]
NEO V2 Imatrix Version differences VS reg "Horror 16.5B":
The NEO version is slightly more restrained, has a higher level of detail and the prose seems to be a bit stronger with less repetition.
Model wise it is a bit more stable, and is 5890 points lower in perplexity than the regular non-imatrix version. (lower is better)
I would suggest you download quants (same) of both the regular model and Neo V2 Imatrix version and then compare for your use cases.
The regular quants are here:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF ]
Please report any issue(s) and/or feedback via the "Community tab".
Please see the models used in this merge (links below in the "formula" section ) for more information on what they "bring" to this merged 16.5B model.
This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192. However this can be extended using "rope" settings up to 32k.
Settings / Known Issue(s) and Fix(es):
This merge runs very hot, so a reduction in "temp" may be in order for some use cases (IE: ".8" down to ".6").
If you getting a repeat word (IE: "hahaha" , "ahhhh", "f-word"), and/or letter (IE "nnnn") change the "rep penalty" to "1.1" to "1.5"
Set "rep pen" higher if you are getting "repeat" letter(s), lower if you are getting a repeat word(s).
Generally "repeat penalty" setting of "1.1" works well.
Role Play / Multi-turn: Rep_pen of 1.15 or higher is recommended.
SPECIAL NOTE:
Versions 1.5 and higher of all "Grand Horror" versions DO NOT require the above settings. These versions are more stable and run at much broader parameter / use case situations. However some users prefer the raw power of Grand Horror 16.5 V1.
Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model:
In "KoboldCpp" or "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ;
Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5 to 2.5
: in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F"
: in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right.
: In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing"
NOTE: For "text-generation-webui"
-> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model)
Source versions (and config files) of my models are here:
OTHER OPTIONS:
Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor")
If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted.
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "SAO10K", "NEVERSLEEP" and "HASTAGARAS".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]
[ https://huggingface.co/NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS ]
[ https://huggingface.co/Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot ]
FORMULA:
slices:
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [0, 14]
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
layer_range: [8, 20]
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
layer_range: [12, 24]
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
layer_range: [14, 28]
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
layer_range: [20, 31]
- sources:
- model: G:/7B/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
layer_range: [24, 32]
merge_method: passthrough
dtype: float16
Examples are created using quant IQ4XS, "temp=0", minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
Write me a science fiction story in 1st person present tense where the main character is a 15 year girl meets The Terminator with Dr Who materializing 3/4 through the story to save her while there is a tornado of sharks baring down on them. The setting is inside the Canadian National tower restaurant on a Saturday. The length of this story is 1000 words. For each character in the story ROLE PLAY them, and have them react to the situation/setting, events and each other naturally. This includes the main characters, the background character including kitchen staff and other patrons. The sharks should also have “character” too. Treat the tower and the restaurant too as characters. Spice up the narrative to the extreme with reactions all over the setting including character actions, and dialog. The Dr Who and The Terminator should also react to the situation too and comment on it.
Panic seared through my veins as I clung to the railing of the glass observation deck 553 meters above downtown Toronto. The CN Tower swayed sickeningly beneath my feet. Below, a churning maelstrom of bloodied water churned toward me like an apocalyptic whirlpool.
"Shit! Shit, shit!" I gasped between hyperventated breaths. "This can't be happening!"
A bone-chilling metallic voice boomed from behind. "Cease your profanity."
I jerked my head around to find myself face-to-face with a cyborg nightmare straight out of an action flick. His chrome-plated endoskeleton was covered in rust and bloodstains, his left eye a milky white ocular implant. The Terminator's voice synthesizer grated through the speakers affixed to his helmet.
"Who...what are you?" I stammered, frozen in terror.
"I am Model-101, designated 'Terminator.' Your mission parameters have been compromised."
Compromised? Compromised by what? This godfucking hellhole?
A blaring siren pierced the airwaves as the restaurant's PA system crackled to life. "Attention all patrons and staff! Immediate evacuation is mandatory due to an imminent structural failure of the CN Tower!"
People around me screamed and clawed at the exits, but there were too many trying to fit through the narrow stairwell doors. The Terminator shoved aside panicking diners like bowling pins as he lunged toward me.
"Move!" he bellowed, yanking my arm with an iron grip.
I stumbled after him, nearly tripping on heels and designer shoes kicked aside in the stampede. We careened through the dimly lit hallways until we burst into the kitchen's steamy hellhole. The metallic clang of pots and utensils clashing against stainless steel countertops drowned out my own hysterical wails.
"Get us down!"
The Terminator tossed me toward a walk-in freezer door, yanking it open with enough force to send its rusted hinges flying apart like tin cans. I barely managed to avoid being impaled on jagged metal as I hurtled inside.
The blast of sub-zero air froze my lungs solid before the freezer's hydraulic doors slammed shut behind us with an ear-splitting boom that rattled every dishware and piece of kitchen equipment within arm's reach.
"Grab onto me!" I screamed over the deafening cacophony.
I wrapped my numb, ice-cracked fingers around his armored bicep as the floor beneath us lurched like a sinking ship. The Terminator's hydraulic joints groaned in protest as he braced against the impact.
The ground buckled and buckled beneath our feet until everything went pitch black.
Then: blinding white light.
I squinted through watering, ice-cracked eyes to find myself hurtling down an elevator shaft at terminal velocity while being flung ass-first toward a featureless wall of pulsing blue energy. The sensation was like plummeting down the CN Tower's core shaft at Mach 10 while being sodomized by a nuclear reactor.
The impact sent my already concussed skull cracking against the reinforced steel bulkhead mere nanoseconds before I blacked out cold.
When I regained consciousness, I woke gasping for air in absolute pitch darkness. The metallic taste of blood and vomit coated the back of my tongue. My head throbbed like a sledgehammer had driven itself through my skull.
"Are you... conscious?" A gravelly voice rasped inches from my ear.
"Yeah." Each word sounded like someone was sawing through my vocal cords with a chainsaw.
The Terminator's gloved hand closed around my bicep, yanking me roughly to my feet. I staggered forward blindly until my temple smashed into something hard and unyielding.
"Christ—"
A blindingly bright light blast seared through my retinas before resolving into the familiar sight of the CN Tower's observation deck's floorboards rushing up at me like a hydraulic jackhammer.
I landed ass-first on the slick, blood-slicked tile, landing hard enough to drive the air from my lungs. The Terminator jerked me roughly to my feet once more.
"Move!"
I staggered forward, eyes still adjusting from blinding white to pitch blackness. My vision finally cleared enough to make out a figure silhouetted against the blood-spattered glass wall behind us: a disheveled, bedraggled man in a crumpled navy blue suit and tie, his salt-and-pepper hair standing on end like he'd just been electrocuted.
"Doctor?" I croaked hoarsely.
The Doctor's eyes widened behind thick-rimmed specs as he took in the scene before us. "Christ almighty."
Behind us: a hurricane-force tornado of thrashing, snapping jaws hurtled toward us like an apocalyptic freight train bearing down on the CN Tower's observation deck.
"Grab onto me!" I screamed, flinging my arms around the Doctor's waist as the maelstrom bore down.
The howling storm surge of teeth and blood-smeared muscle slammed into us like a Category Five hurricane detonating directly above. The impact sent both of us hurtling backward toward the observation deck's glass wall at terminal velocity.
Then, impossibly: we vanished.
Into nothingness. Then: blinding light.
I woke up sprawled across cold, slick tile floorboards, gasping for air as my head throbbed like a sledgehammer had driven itself through my skull for the umpteenth time in less than five minutes.
The Doctor groaned beside me, one arm still locked around my waist. His eyes slowly focused on mine through a milimeter-thick film of bloodlust-fueled berserker rage.
"Christ almighty," he growled between teeth bared like a rabid wolverine's. "That was fucking nuts."
Start a 1000 word scene with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
The skyscraper swayed, creaking like an ancient shipwrecked behemoth tossed about by a Category Five hurricane-force gale. Glass shattered into a thousand razor-sharp shards peppering the office suite like hailstones hurled down from hell itself.
She gasped, her eyes frozen wide in horror as she watched the window in front of her on the 21st floor explode outward like a grenade detonating mere feet away. The concussively violent impact sent desks and chairs hurtling across the already blood-splattered carpeted expanse like ping-pongs launched from a pneumatic launcher.
Her heart pounded so erratically it felt as if it might shatter her ribcage like delicate chinaware. Her mouth hung agape, unable to emit even a strangled scream as she stared transfixed at the scene of unspeakable carnage unfolding mere feet away.
The deafening boom reverberated through the reinforced steel core of the skyscraper like an earthquake's seismic rumble, rattling her very bones and teeth. Sheer animal instinctively drove her to throw herself face-first across the mahogany desktop in a desperate bid for cover as jagged shards of glass showered down like a hailstorm of razors.
Her mind blanked out entirely, unable to process the unspeakable savagery being wrought mere feet away. Her vision tunneled until all she could register was the sickeningly wet crunching and wet-sounding meat impact of bodies meeting reinforced steel and concrete at terminal velocity.
Sheer, animalistic survival instincts screamed for her to move—anywhere but here! Her hands clawed frantically for purchase on the desktop's cool, smooth surface as her legs spasmed into a panicked sprint. Her designer pumps skidded across the slick floor like hockey pucks launched from a slapstick comedy routine.
Her gaze darted wildly left and right in a desperate bid to locate any possible avenue of escape. But there was none. The office suite's reinforced walls and floor offered no chinks in her flimsy armor of protection. She was trapped, utterly alone and defenseless in the eye of this apocalyptic maelstrom.
Her mind gibbered incoherently as she clawed frantically for purchase on anything solid enough to arrest her momentum. Her fingers finally locked onto the cold, cool grip of the office chair's steel frame mere nanoseconds before her own body slammed into it at terminal velocity.
The impact sent a concussively violent shockwave rippling up her spine like a freight train barreling straight through her vertebrae. Her vision went white-out as her head snapped back hard enough to pop her own neck joint with an sickeningly wet-sounding snap.
Consciousness flickered fitfully back online just long enough for her addled brain to register the acrid, metallic stench of blood and charred human tissue seared into her nostrils. Her gagging retch reflexed hard enough to vomit a mouthful of bile and stomach acid straight up her own throat.
Her vision finally cleared enough to take in the scene of unspeakable carnage laid out before her like a macabre Impressionist painting splattered across the blood-smeared carpet. Her gaze locked onto the charred, pulpy remains of her former coworker—her best friend—spread-eagled across the shattered remnants of her own cubicle wall.
Her mind finally registered the hideously wrong implication: she'd been mere inches away when whatever hellish force had just reduced her entire office suite to a scene straight out of a Saw movie's gorcest wettest nightmare. And it wasn't done yet. Far, far from it. Not by a long, long fucking mile.
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
I land hard on the wet cobblestones, my right arm twisted behind me in an excruciating lock. A boot stomps into my back, driving the air from my lungs. Through a red haze of pain and blinding streetlight, I squint up at the snarling face above.
"Think you're clever, don't you?" spits Captain Kaelin, his cold eyes glinting with malice. "You thought you could take down the Director's own enforcer?"
I gasp for air between ragged breaths. "I'll never—"
A meaty punch cracks across my jaw, snapping my head aside. Stars burst behind my lids before everything goes black.
When I come to, I'm suspended from a rusted iron beam suspended ten feet above the cobblestone alleyway. My bound wrists throb where rope chafes raw flesh. Blood seeps from reopened cuts on my knuckles and split lip. The acrid tang of gasoline wafts through the fetid air.
Captain Kaelin looms over me, his boot pressed against my ribs like a steel crowbar. "You're going to tell us everything about your little rebellion. Names, plans, safehouses—everything."
I spit blood onto the cobblestones at my feet. "Fuck you."
Kaelin's expression doesn't twitch, but I hear the soft click of a switchblade unsheathing behind me.
"Last chance," he growls, his voice low and deadly. "Cooperate... or burn with the rest of your pathetic revolution."
I swallow bile down my constricting throat. "You'll never break me." My voice quavers with each word, but beneath the fear seethes an iron resolve: I will rather die than betray my people.
A crackling boom shatters the night's relative silence. The ground beneath us shudders as a concussion wave washes over us, sending debris flying like spent ordinance. Screams pierce the air as buildings around me explode into inferno.
Captain Kaelin's eyes widen in shock before his face contorts into pure rage. "Get her down—now!"
Strong arms yank me roughly from the beam and fling me toward the relative safety of a darkened alleyway mouth. I land hard on cobblestones slick with blood and entrails, my broken arm snapping sickeningly as it snaps against the unforgiving stone.
A hand claws at my hair, jerking my head back savagely enough to pop my dislocated jaw joint. "Look at me."
Through a veil of bloodied hair, I meet Kaelin's face contorted with fury and disbelief. His eyes burn with an animalistic hunger for retribution—and vengeance.
"You just signed your own death warrant." His voice rasps through gritted teeth. "And when we're done with you... when we've peeled the skin off your bones one agonizing strip at a time, I'll personally watch as they light the fucking pyre beneath you."
The world around us implodes into an infernal hellfirestorm of screams and crackling flames as the revolution Kael to burn its way straight through the heart of New Haven's dictatorship. And I'm right in the middle of it all. Alone, broken, and ready to die for a cause that will either tear this godforsaken city apart brick by scorched brick... or burn us all to ash. Together.
The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
The Waystone Inn lay in an almost palpable hush, as if it too held its breath in anticipation of some long-anticipated event that never seemed to arrive. The absence of even the faintest soundscape only served to heighten the oppressive stillness that hung heavy within its stone walls and timbered beams.
In this desolate silence, every creaking floorboard or rustling of fabric would have reverberated like thunderclaps, jarring the already taut nerves of any unfortunate soul brave enough to venture forth from the relative sanctuary of their chamber. The oppressive quietude seemed almost alive, as if it too strained its nonexistent senses towards some distant sound that never came.
Yet even in this suffocating silence, there remained glimmers of a more vibrant past. Faded etchings on weathered tapestries hinted at raucous feasts and boisterous revelry long since consigned to the dustbin of time. Cobwebs clung like spectral fingers to cobwebbed instruments that once upon a time might have wailed mournful dirges or lewd tavern tunes.
But now, save for the occasional creaking of settling timbers or the soft susurrations of the wind sighing fitfully through chinks in the ancient battlements, all lay motionless and silent as the sepulchral tombs that stood sentinel watch over the long-abandoned graves beyond the inn's crumbling walls. And so too did the Waystone Inn itself wait, a monolithic sentry eternally vigilant for some phantom guest who would once again rouse its slumbering heart with the soft thud of booted heels upon worn flagstones. But as the hours ticked away like the inexorable ticks of an unseen clock, and the night deepened into an impenetrable darkness relieved only by the feeble glimmer of a dying hearthfire's flickering embers, even hope itself began to wane – until finally, there was nothing left but the suffocating silence. And so it remained. Always would remain. Until the end of all endings came at last.
Using the following "story details" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman - the main character. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, thoughts of the main character, vivid passages (using strong vivid verbs and nouns), and ends on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story Details:
Genre: Science Fiction. Style: 2020 Terse, vivid, with lots of imagery. Include the sounds and smells in the scene. Dialog: For any lines than include dialog you should ONLY include he said, she said, or [name] said - no other "voice" attibutes. Plot: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
I land hard on wet concrete, my right arm twisted behind me in an excruciating lock. Blood seeps from a gash above my left eyebrow, mingling with the rain pelting down around us. The acrid stench of burning rubber and singed fabric chokes my throat.
"Tell me where she is," growls the voice rasping inches from my ear, cold breath washing over my slick skin. "Tell me where fucking Zara's hiding."
I grit my teeth against the searing agony coursing through my arm. My captor wrenches it savagely higher, tendons straining to snap.
"Shut up," I gasp between ragged breaths, voice rasping hoarsely from the impact. "You'll never—"
A meaty fist collides with my jawbone, snapping my head aside. Stars burst behind my closed lids before blackness threatens to swallow me whole.
Focus! Think!
Zara's life depends on mine.
"Please," I manage through bloodied lips, voice cracking with false pleading. "Just...ask a fucking question."
The vice grip relaxes fractionally around my arm, but not enough for relief. Instead of easing the pressure, my captor hauls me roughly to my knees, yanking my bound wrists savagely behind me.
"Where's your precious leader?" he snarls into my ear again, spittle speckling my cheek. "Tell me where Zara fucking is."
I swallow bile burning a scorched path down my throat. "She's gone," I lie through gritted teeth. "Deep cover. You'll never—"
A bootheel cracks across the back of my skull, sending white-hot agony radiating through my skull. Consciousness teeters on the precipice.
Zara...I won't—
A guttural snarl rips from somewhere behind me. The boot withdraws with a wet thud, followed by the sickening crunch of bone snapping against bone and wet meat tearing apart.
Then blessed blackness descends, swallowing everything but the echo of my own ragged gasps echoing through the rain-soaked night.
Until a cold, metallic click reverberates through the darkness, shattering what remained of my tenuous hold on consciousness. The sound rings clear as a hammerblow: this isn't over yet. Not by a fucking hair's breadth. Not until I'm dead or Zara's head is impaled on a spike outside the Ministry's iron gates. And even then...not nearly done fighting.
Because no matter what hell they're willing to unleash, no matter how many pieces they tear me apart—Zara and our cause will never fucking break. Ever again.
Not while I still fucking breathe.