LXD = XL Danger

I know how the LXD recruits its members. But first, dear reader, a little housekeeping.

The hacks at the local news have picked up on my frog meat cafeteria story. Unfortunately, those half-wits have dropped the ball. Calling my reporting “questionable” and claiming that my style is “fraught with delusional paranoia,” those propaganda-merchants at Channel 10 ran their own report on our cafeteria. In that fanciful feat of frog fiction, they claimed that the meat in question was chicken, which is “often mistaken for various exotic meats.” Were this a piece of straight reporting it would be dead wrong. But given what this ace journalist has uncovered about the LXD, the frog fiction is clearly an obvious attempt by those acting in concert with this league of extraordinary dancers to discredit me. But what these propagandists fail to realize is that I won’t be stopped and the truth will come out.

Here is the unvarnished truth those who claim to be in the “news” business don’t want you to know.

First, the LXD. recruits only those who have mastered one specific dance style. Obviously, this is indicative of a highly evolved, possibly dangerous, dance conspiracy that has a deep well of specialists for any eventuality.

Second, potential recruits draw the attention of the LXD by posting dance videos online. Judging from the sheer number of dance videos online, it’s fair to say that anyone—your friends, your neighbors, even you—could be in the LXD.

Third, and this is pure conjecture at this point, the LXD values style and ingenuity above all else. Members seem to make ample use of their environment, incorporating everyday items into their dance routine. Obviously, this means that the LXD is capable of striking anywhere, anytime.

Fourth, recruitment is on the LXD’s terms alone. Extraordinary seems to be the key word here. Only the elite are chosen, thus confirming the hunch that we’re obviously dealing with a super-human dance force.

If you have been recruited by the L.X.D., and you’re brave enough to help shed light on the truth, contact this fearless reporter at ColeWaters.com.

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Stakeout

Who Are The LXD?!

A top secret government dance program is a secret no more thanks to my crackerjack reporting skills.

In the heart of an area zoned for industry sits a warehouse that is a known staging area for a team of government super-dancers. There I observed two members of the program, codenamed LXD, defy the laws of gravity with superhuman dance moves.

The warehouse first came to my attention several months ago when I learned that it had been receiving strange shipments of sneakers, colored lights, and even a carousel zebra. What all that stuff, or the thousands of empty test tubes that came through here as well, is for remains unclear at this time. Ditto for the whereabouts of Trevor Drift, who disappeared with three of these LXD agents just after prom.

Unfortunately, in this tangled web, this vast conspiracy of dance, answers only beget more questions. We know about the LXD group, but what are they after?

It’s almost certainly something dangerous. As a security precaution, I’m posting my questions here on the Web, dear reader. That way, should something happen to this reporter, one of you will be able to carry on my work

1. Where is Trevor Drift?
2. What would dancers want with thousands of empty test tubes? Are we dealing with an army of dancing clones?
3. Who were the two boys I saw defy gravity and how did they do it?
4. What does LXD stand for?

It is that last question—what does LXD stand for—that I am working now because I believe those initials hold the key to whatever is out there. This is Cole Waters of ColeWaters.com signing off.

Prom-spiracy!

A vast, superhuman dance-based conspiracy revealed itself to hundreds of people at prom, an event I elected to attend alone so I could bring you the high caliber reporting you’ve become accustomed to.

Here’s what we know:

Trevor Drift, who hasn’t attended a single dance this year, suddenly shows up in a vintage suit and sets fire to the dance floor, metaphorically speaking. That’s when things got weird. A sinister cat whose name I’ve been unable to track down, barged in to watch Trevor dance. Suddenly, this mystery villain was joined—perhaps intercepted by—three government agents, probably assigned to an ultra-secret dance division within the CIA.

The trio joined Trevor on the dance floor and proceeded to let loose a wave of superhuman moves never seen before.

Before our principal could get to the bottom of the spectacle, the government agents escorted—kidnapped?—Trevor, escaping out of the back of the gym and vanishing into the dark night. As for the mystery man, well, that’s another piece of the puzzle I’ll have to solve. But before the night was through, I did pry some juicy info from Alice Wondershaw, who told me this about Trevor: “He’s an extraordinary dancer.” But Trevor’s chief rival for Alice’s affection, Brendan Broman wasn’t so sure those moves Trevor thrashed him with were regulation.

“He’s a freak of nature, like a lab experiment set loose on the dance floor,” Broman said.

If Drift really is part of some sort of government dance experiment, perhaps those agents were sent to return him to the lab. And this part is pure speculation, dear readers, but perhaps that mystery man was a foreign operative, sent here to steal U.S. dance secrets.

The answer to all of these questions is with Trevor, and as soon as I find him I’ll find the truth and bring it you on ColeWaters.com.