#Assignment Help Aberdeen

[beardedmrbean]

A paedophile who admitted sharing thousands of disturbing images of children, including newborn babies, co-authored a “coming out guide” championed by Scottish schools.

Andrew Easton, 39, was snared by cybercrime officers over internet chat logs with someone he believed to be a vulnerable 13-year-old he called “baby boy”. Easton, who was convicted at Aberdeen Sheriff Court last week, co-wrote the guide for charity LGBT Youth Scotland, which receives millions of pounds from the Scottish Government and local authorities.

LGBT Youth Scotland boast they have “trained” thousands of teachers over LGBT inclusivity. Schools, local authorities, the Care Inspectorate and government-run health and social care authorities made the guide available to children from the age of 13.

LGBT Youth Scotland attempted to distance themselves from Easton, who demanded to be called “daddy” and used secure messaging to send messages to his schoolboy victim, and photographs of his private parts.

Dr Mhairi Crawford, chief executive of LGBT Youth Scotland, said: “We were deeply troubled to learn of Mr Easton’s criminal actions. We condemn anyone that exploits or harms young people. He was a member of one of our youth groups until 2009, and during that time he, alongside other members of the group, contributed to a ‘coming out guide’, published in 2010.”

In one chat, Easton was reminded his “victim” was just 13 years old, but he continued exchanging photographs, urging “send more, baby boy!”.

Cybercrime officers discovered 32 video files, many of which were of the most serious category A and featuring children aged between four and eight years old, had been distributed to other paedophiles by Easton.

Despite the sexual images Easton was sharing with others being of the highest category, Sheriff Morag McLaughlin failed to jail him.

Easton, of Kennethmont, Huntly, is subject to a community payback order with supervision for three years and was ordered to carry out 200 hours of unpaid work. He will remain on the sex offenders register for three years.

Scottish Conservative MSP Meghan Gallacher said: “This is a deeply disturbing situation. It is long overdue that we audit just how much public money this organisation receives and seek assurances over what safeguarding assessments are in place.”.

The coming out guide which Easton contributed to states: “Transgender people are people whose gender identity – who they are internally or their ‘innate’ gender – is different to their physical body or the gender they were assigned at birth.”

The ideology has been dismissed by one of the UK’s most respected paediatricians, Dr Hilary Cass, whose recent report led to England and Scotland reversing decisions to prescribe gender-changing drugs to children.

Alba MSP Ash Regan said: “Serious questions must be asked about why Scottish children’s educational guidance is being shaped by unqualified lobby groups that not only overreach their published remit but operate without any apparent oversight.”

The Scottish Government said education authorities are responsible for ensuring visitors undergo disclosure checks and LGBT Youth Scotland’s safeguarding policy is an operational matter for the organisation. It said: “The Coming Out Guide, published in 2010, is not a Scottish Government publication. The Scottish Government cannot comment on individual criminal cases.”

[scotianostra]

The Physician John Abercrombie was born in Aberdeen on any one of three days, 10th, 11th or 12th of October 1780, depending on what source you read.

In many ways Abercrombie was a genuine product of the Scottish Enlightenment in that he was a “Lad o’Pairts” equally at home discussing moral philosophy and medicine – he made a significant contribution to progress in the latter science and is known to many as the father of neuropathology, the study of diseases of the nervous system.

Indeed he has the ultimate medical accolade of having a disease named after him, namely Abercrombie’s Degeneration, which he was the first to describe.

The son of a clergyman in Aberdeen, the Rev George Abercrombie of East Church, John was educated at the local grammar school and then at Marischal College in the city’s university, before moving to Edinburgh University – which was then the foremost medical education institute in the world.

He was just 22 when he gained his doctorate in medicine in 1803, and after a brief spell completing his studies in London he began to practise his profession in the Scottish capital.

It is standard practice now but back then Abercrombie quickly gained a reputation for listening to his patients at length and taking his time with a diagnosis – he was nicknamed the man of silence because of this habit.

Abercrombie soon became recognised as possibly the finest doctor in the city, and his practice proved very popular with the wealthy and well-to-do, but don’t knock him for that, remember there was no NHS back then, John Abercrombie though, he spent a great deal of time working with the poor people of Edinburgh, becoming a senior medical officer at the Royal Public Dispensary, where he devised a system of having medical students assigned to different parts of the city so that they could gain first-hand knowledge of working with the sick while helping to treat them.

In 1808, Abercrombie married the wealthy daughter of a manufacturer and together they had seven daughters. His wives wealth gave him the chance to concentrate more on his practice rather than a part time teaching post. In 1815 the New Town Dispensary was opened in Thistle Street and Abercrombie was appointed senior surgeon.

Abercrombie went on to become the leading physician of his day in Edinburgh, establishing a name for himself and becoming the king’s physician in Scotland, he was medical advisor and close friend to Sir Walter Scott. The University of Oxford conferred on him the award of the honorary degree of MD.

In the last decade of his life the good doctor shifted his focus towards philosophical and religious topics rather than medical. Abercrombie wrote a number of essays which were compiled into a volume called Elements of Sacred Truth, which sold very well.

Abercrombie became known for the intellectual and moral nature of man. He gradually immersed himself into Bible study and in 1840 left the established church. Abercrombie donated widely to Edinburgh charities and societies. He was a regular member of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh and became vice-president of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.

He suffered from a stroke and died suddenly at his home on 14th November 1844. After his death his family presented his library of over 900 books to the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, while his extensive papers were donated to the library of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh.

[harrison-abbott]

When I was about 23 I was assigned to a therapist who worked with the NHS, after quite a serious incident of self harm. As in, it was basically required for me to go there.

He was this little, enthusiastic chap, who I met in an incredibly ugly GP building in Aberdeen, one dreary day. I sat down and spoke to him about the incident. He was quite efficient in pressing forward about what happened – what the background was behind the story leading up to the self harm.

And what I noticed was that he guessed what had happened by the types of questions that he asked – without me having explained them. So, he would ask me this and that, and I kept saying things like, “Yes, actually.”

On that first meeting with him, it was quite quick and formative. I needed to get a doctor’s note from him to show the university and my workplace, explaining why I wasn’t free.

He invited me to come back a couple of months later. And this time I was more ready to open up about the things that’d bothered me for years: to tell the proper story by what led up to the harming incident.

And – even though the story was gruesome and disturbing: the therapist instantly understood it, and made several key observations, which made me understand why I had done it – the self harm. It was quite like the ‘eureka’ moment. But he was that clever and comprehending of such things that he knew very quickly how to make the correct points.

Even though I only saw him twice, I’m still indebted to that man. I didn’t know him personally. And we only spent about twenty minutes in all speaking together. But those 20 mins of therapy were really restorative and helpful.

And, I’m 31 now, and I’m still a bit mucked up mentally (haha). But not as much as I was when I was 28. And I survived the self harm thing. And that therapist sure helped me a great deal. Also – I haven’t self harmed a single time since that dark night when I was 23. And the therapist holds a lot of responsibility for that too.

There are certainly heroes out there, who are there to lift you up.

[rankedtutors]

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[limerencerp]

𝑺 𝑼 𝑩 𝑷 𝑳 𝑶 𝑻 𝑷 𝑹 𝑬 𝑽 𝑰 𝑬 𝑾

𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁 trigger warning — illegal substances

Growing in excess along the remote mountains of Aberdeen, P. atrabilious is a hallucinogenic fungus with its earliest known usage on campus dating back to the sixties. The magic mushrooms — colloquially known as ‘psi’ — experienced a short period of circulation at Galloway before it was prohibited under the administration of then Vice Chancellor, Alfred Bray. Now, decades later, ‘psi’ has since been reintroduced to the student body and carefully curated to only affect those with Volition at their disposal While the long-term effects of ‘psi’ remain largely unknown, what toxicology has been documented lists the following adverse effects:

abdominal cramping

cluster headaches

hyperhidrosis

insomnia

nausea and vomiting

paranoia

tremors

𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑻

◍ — —, ## | dealer ◍ — —, ## | dealer ◍ — —, ## | dealer ◍ — —, ## | dealer ◍ — —, ## | dealer ◍ — —, ## | dealer

High above a labyrinth of pointed arches and stained glass windows, a January sun glows bright — a half-formed eye peering through a collage of passing clouds. The sky is painted in shades of eggshell and stone, and the wind blowing in from across Otter Creek is cold and unrepentant, forcing the scholars scattered across Galloway’s acres to turn up the collars on their coats. They move as one — a herd of polyester, faux leather, and cashmere, their hands and faces chapped from the elements, their shoulders ladened with knapsacks and the weight of expectation. The cobbled walkways leading from one stone structure to the next is an endless tide of stiff limbs and rime-slick shoes, and Gregory Reynolds is buoyed along, freckled hands red with cold

His head is bent low against the wind as he schlepps along, desperate to escape the bite of winter. He moves as fast as his legs can carry him, elbows flared outward for added momentum. The Lyceum looms in the distance, its ancient face framed by glittering icicles and tufts of snow. Breaking away from the herd of chattering teeth, Gregory picks his way through puddles that have frozen over and a sizeable mound of snow; he can almost feel the warmth of the foyer against his face and the hard plastic of his assigned seat beneath him, but the mental image is dashed when he comes to a sudden stop 

The cold of the salted ground draws an anguished sound from deep within him as he shoves against the weight on top of him. “Oh, shit — my bad.” He leans back onto his elbows and grits his teeth as the student sprawled over his thighs scrambles to their feet and then extends a gloved hand. Gregory hoists himself upward with their help and sweeps the mangled surface of his palms against his damp jeans, another apology fast on his tongue. His words are dismissed with the wave of the student’s hand and then a hastily made peace sign before they shoulder by and disappear into the surging wall of students

Gregory — head bent once more, his cheeks high with the colour of embarrassment — shakes off the collision before something catches his eye; he watches as a shimmering square of plastic is almost crushed underfoot before darting forward to retrieve it. His brows pinch together and then his mouth opens. His studies, he decides, can wait

In the warmth of his dormitory, Gregory breaks the seal on the tiny gold bag; he rolls what appears to be a stem between his thumb and forefinger before consuming it. The minutes tick by with little fanfare and Gregory exhales an exasperated breath. “This shit is garbage,” he mumbles, moving to his feet and reaching for his coat. But then his hand stills and his eyes widen — his fingers multiply in length and number, and a pale light blooms between his knuckles

The room turns onto its side as he steps forward and the door is thrown open into the wall. A jagged line runs through the picture frame mounted on his bedside table. His four-poster levitates

The floor beneath his feet shudders, rising and falling as if a giant breath is being taken. He can hear chatter from all across the campus — a moment of hesitation before a question is asked in a far off classroom, the hushed concern of his housemate in the room over. Gregory is on his knees, nails digging into the floorboards, his head thrown back onto his shoulders

𝑳𝑰𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 is an upcoming semi-private dark academia roleplay set in the fictional town of Aberdeen, Vermont. Our tale of 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬, and 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞 takes place on the sprawling grounds of Galloway Academy, but beyond the dignified veneer of gilded bibliotheques and spacious lecture halls, something within the university persists, gorging itself on 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 and 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐄 — on the rot of 𝐇𝐔𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐒

Follow for updates or track the tag “#limerencerp”

[bhupendrasthings]

The Importance of Ongoing Training and Development for Field Service Dispatchers

A study by Aberdeen Group indicated that businesses that offer training programs saw a 52% boost in service income. This ensures that management and service professionals are in constant contact and receive ongoing training.

Why use service dispatch software? Any field service organization's success depends heavily on its field service dispatchers. They are in charge of maintaining inventory, dispatching and scheduling technicians, and interacting with consumers. Field service dispatchers must have the abilities and knowledge to stay on top of the most recent developments as the field service sector develops. Depending on the unique requirements of the company, several approaches should be taken to give field service dispatchers continual training and development. 

In this blog post, we will learn the importance of ongoing training and development for field service dispatchers. 

Key Responsibilities of Field Service Dispatchers

The organization and management of field service activities are greatly aided by field service dispatchers. They serve as a liaison between clients, field technicians, and the business, ensuring that service requests are dealt with quickly, and clients' needs are addressed. The following are the main elements of how to optimize field service scheduling process:

Assignment and Planning

Dispatching Coordination in Real-Time

Route Improvement

Resource Administration

Continuous Learning and Skill Enhancement

Acquiring new knowledge and skills on a continuous basis is known as continuous learning and skill enhancement. Numerous techniques, like attending training sessions, reading books and articles, and enrolling in online courses, can be used to do this.

The following are some advantages of ongoing education and skill development:

Enhanced job performance: You can enhance your job performance and increase your value to your employer by learning new skills and information.

Career opportunities will increase when you gain new skills and expertise because you'll be more employable and have more options.

Effective Communication and Collaboration

Any team or organization must have effective communication and teamwork in order to be successful. When team members work together smoothly and effectively, they may accomplish their goals more quickly, make wise judgments, and foster a great work atmosphere.

Encourage your team members to listen actively. Effective communication depends on listening to what others are saying and trying to comprehend their viewpoint. Encourage a culture of open and honest communication so team members can freely express their thoughts, worries, and feedback. Make sure all parties involved can understand your communication by being clear, succinct, and understandable. Avoid using jargon or imprecise terminology that can cause miscommunication.

Dispatcher Performance Metrics and Evaluation

The effectiveness of dispatchers in managing inventories, scheduling and dispatching technicians, and interacting with customers is assessed using dispatcher performance measures. These indicators can be used to pinpoint areas where dispatchers can enhance their performance and modify their process as needed.

Field service companies may decide to monitor additional KPIs unique to their industry. For instance, a company that offers preventative maintenance services might keep track of how many work orders are finished on schedule or within budget.

Empowering Dispatchers with Technology

Technology-enabled dispatchers can manage difficult duties in field service operations with much greater efficiency and productivity. The following are a few ways that technology can help dispatchers:

Advanced Dispatching Software 

By using contemporary dispatching software, dispatchers may manage service requests from a single location, schedule technicians, and monitor their progress in real-time.

Real-Time Communication Tools

By giving dispatchers access to real-time communication tools like chat or instant messaging programs, technicians and other team members may be reached swiftly and effectively.

GPS Tracking and Mapping

Dispatchers can see where technicians are located in the field by integrating GPS tracking and mapping technology. 

Continuous Feedback and Improvement

The process of constant consumer, employee, and other stakeholder feedback gathering and use for process, product, and service improvement is known as continuous feedback and improvement.

Utilize the comments you've received to enhance your offerings in terms of goods, services, and operations. Making adjustments to the product, its marketing strategy, or its support structure may be necessary to achieve this. It could also entail making adjustments to how your staff members perform their duties or how your business is structured. The process of constant improvement and feedback is ongoing. 

Dispatcher Autonomy and Decision-Making

Autonomy and decision-making among dispatchers are crucial components of a field service organization that runs smoothly. Giving dispatchers the freedom to decide independently within a set of rules can result in more productive operations, better customer service, and dispatchers who are more satisfied with their work.

Give dispatchers the freedom to decide within their sphere of influence without needing frequent clearance from superiors. Giving them the ability to make decisions increases their effectiveness and self-assurance.

Data Security and Privacy Compliance

For firms that manage sensitive data, data security and privacy compliance are crucial. Businesses can safeguard their data from unwanted access, usage, or disclosure by using the proper procedures. 

A data security policy is a written statement of the precautions a company will take to safeguard its data. Access control, data encryption, and password management should all be covered by the policy.

Collaborative Knowledge Sharing and Best Practices

In order to promote a learning culture inside a business and maximize the pooled expertise of its employees, collaborative knowledge exchange and best practices are crucial. Performance, innovation, and problem-solving skills enhance when team members work together to share knowledge and best practices. 

In summary, establishing a culture of learning and continuous development inside a business depends heavily on collaborative knowledge sharing and best practices. Organizations can harness the collective wisdom of their workforce and foster success by promoting open communication, offering sharing platforms, and acknowledging employees' contributions.

Any field service organization's success depends heavily on its field service dispatchers. They are in charge of maintaining inventory, dispatching and scheduling technicians, and interacting with consumers. 

Field service dispatchers must have the abilities and knowledge to stay on top of the most recent developments as the field service sector develops. Professional dispatchers can efficiently arrange and dispatch personnel by drawing on their understanding of the field service sector. Field service firms can increase productivity and customer happiness by using qualified dispatchers. As a result, the company may see an increase in income, a drop in expenses, and a boost to its reputation.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 1

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Set Up: You are an outcast at the Imperial Academy, which means your only options for friends are the tall and stoic Chiss Mitth'raw'nuruodo and his translator from Wild Space Eli Vanto. The three of you get along, for the most part... Thrawn is obsessed with acing all the exams, Eli is desperate to show up his classmates, and you... well, you just want to feel like you belong somewhere. And hiding beneath it all are your unspoken feelings, longing to be realized, but fearful of ruining the balance of your trio's friendship....

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 1: The Problem

Pairing: None yet, just a nice friendship trio

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

You wound down the hallways of the building with a scowl on your face. You would never grow used to this ridiculously long walk, from your first class of the day to the next, so conveniently located on complete opposite sides of the facility. Whoever had designed your schedule this year was either an utter imbecile or had done so on purpose, just to tick you off. At this point in your education here at the Imperial Academy, you knew either scenario was equally likely. You weren't exactly liked by the staff or your peers, and there were plenty of idiots to go around.

The one saving grace of your journey was that you would eventually cross paths with the only two friends you had managed to make in this elitist hell-hole: Eli Vanto and Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

Eli would be the first, his class letting out just a few corridors away from yours. He was leaning against an alcove in the wall just out of the way of passing traffic, his usual spot. When you rounded the corner, he pushed off and fell into step beside you.

"What happened?" you asked, having noticed he was scowling as well. His resting face usually made him look like a sad puppy, so for him to have such a prominent frown this early in the morning, something really upsetting must have happened.

"Lost the debate," he grumbled.

Ah, you'd forgotten he had that today. You and Thrawn had helped him practice for weeks, covering every possible argument and rebuttal from his opponent on the assigned topic. He had it in the bag, or so you'd all thought.

"What? How? Don't tell me you got stage-fright."

He glared over at you. "No, I wasn't nervous or anything. I did everything perfect. But all Arden had to do was throw in a few snide remarks about my accent and that got the whole class turned in his favor."

Eli started biting down on one of his nails in frustration. You frowned along with him. That was a variable none of you had accounted for while practicing.

"Is Arden the pimply-faced guy?"

"Yeah."

"Hate him," you muttered.

"Yeah."

The two of you paused at the doors of a lift, waiting for the previous occupants to exit before filing in yourselves and punching the button for the next level up. Eli was still chewing on his nails.

"Stop," you exclaimed, swatting his hand away from his mouth. "I told you that's a bad habit."

"Oh yeah, what's this then?" He grabbed one of your hands and twisted it around so you could see the splotches of chipped polish on your nails.

You jerked your hand away and held it defensively against your chest. "There's only so much I can do with this insane caseload, okay? I haven't had time to think about my nails."

"Then why'd you paint 'em in the first place?" he said with a bit of a laugh. Well, at least his mood was improving, even if it was at your expense. 

You swatted at him just as the lift doors opened. "Maybe I want to try feeling pretty sometimes, not like some zombie student."

You both were keenly aware that the cadets waiting to board the lift had backed up significantly as you passed, despite not having been in your way at all. They were all whispering too, and by the tone, it was probably not about very nice things. It was always like that, wherever you went. Even if they didn't know your reputations of being from wild, "backwater" planets, they need only hear one of you speak to know you were different. And in these Core worlds, different was inferior.

"You know you don't have to follow our course map, right?" Eli spoke up again, once you'd put some distance between the lift of sneering cadets. "Me, I don't have a choice. Thrawn's determined to graduate in as little time as possible, and I'm the sorry sucker who has to follow 'im. I'd run far away from the guy if I were you. Enjoy your freedom."

Eli complained about the last member of your trio, Thrawn, at least six times a day. And half of those complaints ended with him telling you to make a break for it. You knew he didn't mean any of it; the two of you had spent the last holiday break at a bar, and in his drunkenness, Eli had confessed to being secretly grateful for having met the Chiss. He only complained to cope with the stress.

And you... well, you weren't really sure why they let you hang around. They'd both easily become your closest friends, but you weren't always sure where you stood with them. Maybe they did like your company. Or maybe they just felt sorry for you. They were both friendly enough, allowing you to join them on Thrawn's "fast track" out of the Academy. But you had a feeling that as soon as you all graduated, they'd leave you behind and move on to whatever mission the Emperor had planned for Thrawn in the Navy.

You tried not to think about it too much.

Speaking of your friend, Mitth'raw'nuruodo emerged from a classroom doorway just a few paces ahead. Right on time, as always. His specialized "tactical statistics" class ended several minutes ago, but he had learned to carefully time your path so he wouldn't have to stand awkwardly in the hall waiting. It was for the best; you and Eli may sometimes draw unwanted attention, but poor Thrawn always stood out like a very big, very blue sore thumb.

"We have a problem," he stated, coming up on your other side. You never had to ask Thrawn what was wrong; if he had a problem worth sharing, you would hear about it.

"Hallway problem or 'fresher problem?" asked Eli.

You'd all agreed long ago there were some topics of conversation best had out of earshot from any passerby. And since most scurried out of the refresher whenever Thrawn went in, that became the only suitable place for such conversations, if it couldn't wait until your dorms at the end of the day.

"Refresher," Thrawn said. He looked down at you. "You'll be late for your class."

You shrugged. "If it's important...."

"It is."

You trusted him; he wasn't the type to make up drama or blow things out of proportion. The three of you picked up the pace, turning right instead of the usual left, and slipping into the men's bathroom. Thankfully it was already empty. Eli turned the lock just in case.

Thrawn wasted no time diving into the particulars. "I have come to learn our flight instructor, Commander Burdick, intends to sabotage my simulation tests next month. He is acquainted with Admissions Supervisor Aberdeen and understands that a failing mark will require a remedial course before being allowed back into the program. This would set my graduation back several months."

That was a problem. The flight course was one of the longer ones, and mandatory, and you were all so close to finally being through with it. Just one more round of simulation tests and then an actual flight around Coruscant.

Eli was groaning by the door. "You've gotta be kidding."

"I am not," said Thrawn in a measured voice. He knew it was just an expression, but you knew it was one of his pet peeves.

Eli wasn't listening, instead kicking at the tiled floor and mumbling about how this was so typical and why can't we just be left alone.

You turned to Thrawn. "Just you?"

"The ill will seems to be mostly directed toward me. Supervisor Aberdeen does not appreciate the special provisions that have been afforded me on behalf of the Emperor, and has coerced Commander Burdick to indulge in his spitefulness. However, I would not put it past them to also have plans for either of you, as well. They are aware of our... connection."

You were certain he was about to say friendship but changed his mind. Did he not know the word for it? Was he too embarrassed to admit it? Or did he truly not see you or Eli as anything more than connections?

"Okay, but..." Eli was still processing things. "How? What's their plan?"

"I purposefully said the Commander intended to sabotage the tests. He does not yet have a plan."

"So... we stop 'im," said Eli.

"Or," you countered, a mischievous smirk playing about your lips. "We don't."

Eli merely blinked at you, but Thrawn was very interested. "Go on," he encouraged.

"If we learn what the plan is, or maybe even give him a plan of our own, then we can let it play out and ensure he gets in trouble for it."

Thrawn rubbed his chin as he considered. You knew he'd soon slip into his usual routine of pacing and muttering in unknown languages, which could take a while and make you even later for your class. You cleared your throat, drawing his two red eyes back to yours.

"Surely a Commanding Officer wouldn't dare do anything to sabotage you directly," you offered. "He'll either look for some help or pin it on someone else, in case there's an investigation."

Thrawn rubbed his chin again. "You think we should influence the Commander on who to pick to be his... what do you call it, ensipki?"

"Scapegoat," Eli said quickly. It was becoming second nature for him to translate what was left of the holes in Thrawn's understanding of Basic.

"Right, and then we can expose the deception just before the tests," you said. "Before there's time to come up with another plan."

Thrawn's eyes narrowed in thought. "A decent idea, but it would require the education of one of our fellow cadets to be jeopardized. It should not be our first plan."

"But if he's going to use one of them anyway..." you started to protest.

"Then we should seek to expose his connection to that person as well. This is an instructor who is not serving the best interest of several of his students. He should be the only one blamed."

You weren't going to let his logic win this time. As far as you could tell, this was a perfect opportunity to get revenge on your obnoxious classmates. "It's going to be a lot easier to take issue up with the Board against a student than an instructor. We can try to expose both people, but if we can't, then at least we can nail one of them. It's called a scapegoat for a reason."

Eli spoke up before Thrawn could respond, throwing you a meaningful look. "Arden's in his class. Different time, same instructor."

"Who is this Arden?" asked Thrawn.

"The racist asshole who unfairly stole Eli's grade on the debate today," you said. You'd picked your words deliberately, and it did the trick.

"Very well. We have our scapegoat," said Thrawn.

You winked at Eli and he hid a smile.

"So," Thrawn continued, fully invested now. "We will need to push Arden toward the Commander as a viable accomplice. We will need to gain insight into the details of their plan. And then we will need to ensure those details are brought to light at the right moment."

The three of you looked among each other. This was probably the tenth plan this year alone that you'd all devised to take care of some kind of "problem." Just last week Thrawn  had discovered misinformation in one of your textbooks that took the three of you on a field trip to the lower levels of Coruscant to find a con-artist who'd sold a quarter-hundred counterfeit materials to the Academy library. You'd only had the weekend to catch up on all the rest of your homework, and here you all were again, ready to jump into another scheme.

You had suggested the idea, so you were already grinning and ready to go. Thrawn had just put together a to-do list, and you could almost see the gears in his head continuing to spin as he determined more points to the plan.

The deciding vote was Eli. Though he often complained about not having a choice, you and Thrawn rarely forced him to do anything and were always respectful if he had a differing opinion. This time, you had a feeling he'd be on board.

He set his hands on his hips and smirked. "Disgracing a shitty classmate and a shitty teacher in order to save our grades? Let's do it."

Next Chapter: The Plan >

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 2

September 9th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was late.  

“I’m late I’m late I’m late I’m late,” she got progressively louder as she tore through the condo like a tornado trying to get everything she needed for the day.  Mr. Shanahan’s driver, Lou, had already texted her and was already downstairs waiting as she rummaged through her things and stuffed them into her purse.  They were supposed to be leaving at 7am.  

“Do you want some breakfast?” Kasha called out from the kitchen.

“I’m late I’m late I’m late!” Aberdeen began screaming as she gathered the last of the files and handbooks Brendan had given her before slinging her purse over her shoulder.

“Some coffee?” Kasha called out again.

“I’m late!” Aberdeen bulldozed through the main living area, running to the door and slipping on her shoes so quickly they were barely even on her feet as she opened the door and ran out.  “I’m late I’m late I’m late!”

She ran through the hallway and frantically pushed the elevator button until the door opened, only to stuff herself into the already full cart (it was morning rush hour, after all) on its way down.  When she burst through the front doors of the building, she saw the town car waiting.  She opened the door and slipped into the backseat.

“Hello Miss Bloom,” Lou said from the driver’s seat, looking at her through the rear-view mirror.  “How are you this morning?”

“I’m good,” she said, very clearly out of breath.  She grabbed the seatbelt from behind her and snaked it across her body.  She felt the car start to move.  “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” he shook his head.  “Sometimes I’d have to wait for Frances for fifteen minutes.  You – it’s only 6:58.  We’re early.”

She let out a breath as he turned the corner.  “Um, thanks,” she nodded her head, grabbing her bag and taking out the new iPad Pro that was set up last Wednesday.  It had Brendan’s calendar on it, and she swiped through some of the events of the day.  She would need to be prepped for when Brendan got into the car – and Lord knows where that was.  “So where are we picking up Mr. Shanahan?” she asked.

“Mr. Shanahan lives on the Kingsway in Etobicoke,” Lou informed her.  

Aberdeen laughed to herself.  Now she’d have to be back in Etobicoke every day.  She would be only several blocks away from her childhood home.  A completely different neighbourhood, but still close.  The audacity of the universe to do this to her.  Before Aberdeen could say anything about it, Lou pulled up to a curb and stopped the car.  “What’s going on?”

“You need to pick up Mr. Shanahan’s morning coffee.”

“Oh!  But what – what—” Aberdeen exclaimed.  Then she panicked.  Morning coffee?  What was his order?  He never told her!  He never mentioned picking up a morning coffee and now –

“Mr. Shanahan orders a venti, extra shot, extra hot cappuccino in the mornings,” Lou informed her politely.  

“Right!” she said as she opened the door and pushed herself out of the car.  The Starbucks was busy, of course.  She accidentally paid for the drink on her own debit card and the barista totally put her name on the drink instead of Brendan.  This was a disaster.  

But as she got back into the car, Lou greeted her with another friendly smile.  “The middle comes down,” he informed her, and she pulled it down for the cupholders.  “Miss Bloom, you have a lot of nervous energy,” he said as he drove away, heading west towards Etobicoke.  “You’ll be fine.  You need to let go of the nervous energy.  Mr. Shanahan will be able to sense it.”

Aberdeen laughed.  “I think that’s impossible.  It’s my first day on the job.  What happened to the last two personal assistants Frances tried to hire, anyway?” she asked.

“Argh,” he huffed, waving in disgust.  “They were bozos.  Very rude.  Only got into it for the title, then started to walk around the office like they owned the place.  Like they were the ones who were trading and drafting,” Lou explained.  “Idiots.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but giggle.  “Well, I won’t be doing any of that,” Aberdeen quipped.  “I don’t even watch hockey.”

“If you ask me, I think it’s better that way,” Lou said.  “Brendan likes people with different interests, anyway.”

The rest of the car ride was fairly silent.  It took them about half an hour to get out to Etobicoke thanks to traffic, which meant they rolled into Mr. Shanahan’s driveway at around 7:45.  His house was beautiful – as every house on the Kingsway was – big and in the old Tudor style, landscaped beautifully and kept neat and clean.  People dreamed of living in these houses.  Sometimes, during high school, Aberdeen would go on a run here just so she had something nice to look at.  It wasn’t like she lived far – she grew up south of Bloor in an adjacent neighbourhood called Sunnylea.  It was much different than the Kingsway though – much more middle class.  She still loved it.  

Almost immediately, Mr. Shanahan came out through the front door.  He wore a perfectly tailored, expensive looking blue suit, with leather oxfords and a red tie.  For her part, Aberdeen tried to dress modestly – like cover up her tattoos, however small and unassuming they were – while still maintaining a sense of fashion and style like she always did.  Lou exited the car to greet him, with Brendan greeting him happily, and Lou opened the door for him.  He slipped in beside Aberdeen.  “Good morning, Aberdeen.”

“Good morning Mr. Shanahan.”

“Brendan,” he corrected her.  She was uncomfortable with that.  He was a man in a very high position of power – she couldn’t just call him Brendan like he was her buddy.  “What’s my day consist of?” he asked.

She pulled up the iPad Pro.  “It’s pretty easy today, Mr. Shanahan.  You only have a meeting with the hockey operations department at 11am – no scheduled end time – and a quick half an hour meeting with a woman by the name of…Hayley Wick-in-heeser at 3pm.”

Brendan glanced at her through his glasses.  Did she say something wrong?  “Great.  Fantastic.  Thank you.”  He grabbed at his coffee in between them, took out the coffee stopper, and sipped.  “Who told you my coffee order?” he asked.

She looked at him like he just asked her to reveal her deepest, darkest secret.  He wasn’t smiling.  He wasn’t frowning.  He wasn’t doing anything.  Just giving her a blank stare.  She gulped and held her breath.  “Lou,” she answered meekly.

Mr. Shanahan let out a slight chuckle.  “Thanks Lou,” he said louder.  Lou waved.

Aberdeen kept holding her breath.  

***

Once back at 50 Bay Street, Mr. Shanahan took Aberdeen on a lightning fast meet-and-greet tour of the offices.  She met an array of people she had a hard time remembering the names of.  There was Arvind and Joe and Cressida, Rosie and Daniel and Parminder, Henry and Rita and Stefano, Brendan (another Brendan) and Michael and Tony.  There were so many people Aberdeen couldn’t remember them all, couldn’t remember their departments, and couldn’t remember their titles.  But she nodded along nicely, and shook all their hands, and listened as Mr. Shanahan introduced her as “my new personal assistant” and spoke with some of them longer than others.  

Eventually, they made their way to some of the more important departments – hockey operations, who he’d be having a meeting with as part of management, and media relations.  There were a few specific people that stuck out to her, mostly because she could tell Mr. Shanahan wanted to make sure she knew who they were.  

“Leanne Hederson is the manager of hockey operations.  You’re going to be seeing a lot of her,” he said, introducing them.  She had a firm handshake and wore a powersuit and Aberdeen loved her already.  “This is Steve Walker, director of team security,” he continued as Aberdeen shook the hand of the man.  “And this is—”

“New girl on the job?” a loud, booming voice asked from behind them.  Everybody turned around.  Aberdeen saw a man walk in – tall, conventionally attractive, with a Maple Leafs pin on his lapel – and smile at everybody in the room.  “What department?  Media?  Medical?”

Aberdeen looked over at Mr. Shanahan quickly.  He didn’t look too pleased at the interruption but he digressed.  “This is Ethan Baker – he works in tech and video playback,” he said curtly.  “Mr. Baker, this is my new personal assistant, Miss Aberdeen Bloom.”

“Nice to meet you, Abbie,” he shook her hand, sending her a beaming smile.

Her blood curdled at that name.  Absolutely nobody called her that – not even her family.  It wasn’t even her nickname.  “It’s Aberdeen.”

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“My name is Aberdeen, not Abbie.  Aberdeen,” she said.  She didn’t even care that she was asserting herself in such a way in front of everyone on her first day of work.  She didn’t want ‘Abbie’ to become a thing, so she was going to nip it now.  She knew she had a weird name but a nickname was ridiculous.  She was a grown woman.  People could say her name.  

Ethan chuckled awkwardly, and Mr. Shanahan had apparently had enough.  “We’ll see all you folks later,” he said, guiding Aberdeen out of the room.  

They walked through the offices and back towards their area, where Aberdeen saw her desk clean and cleared from all of Frances’s things.  She went to sit down and took out the iPad Pro.  “Alright,” Mr. Shanahan began, and she knew he was going to go into a long shpeal about what her job was going to entail.  “First of all, you answer the phone.  The phone must be answered every single time.  I hate when it goes to voicemail.  Plus hockey is very fast-paced.  If we miss a phone call, we may miss out on trade opportunities and other important hockey operations business.”

“Yes sir…but what happens if we’re not at our desks.  What happens if we’re in the arena or—”

“In that case the phone will be programmed to call you on your cell phone,” he said quickly.  “You’ll give us your phone number and we’ll program it in.  Every single time, Aberdeen,” he stressed.

“Yes sir.”

“You run errands as assigned.  You handle my schedule as assigned and remind me of my appointments both personal and professional, meetings, and important phone calls.  During game days, you’re here at the arena until the game is over, both teams have left, and I deem it fine for you to leave.  You will, of course, travel with the team when I travel with the team, within Canada and to the States.  You will show up to all practices, all team events including galas and fundraisers, and all other MLSE events not associated with the Toronto Maple Leafs if I am invited to them.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, today isn’t a busy day even though the team is in for a skate because I only have two meetings.  But there will be days where you’ll be running around here like a chicken with its head cut off,” he explained.  “Especially at the start of the season in a few weeks, and most especially at the trade deadline in February.  But until then…well, enjoy the calmness.”

“Yes sir.”

“Have you been reading the employee handbook I sent to you?” he asked, walking into his office quickly.  

“Yes sir.”

“Any questions?”

“No sir.”

“Great.  Then you can start familiarizing yourself with this,” he said as he plopped a giant binder on her desk.  It was full of protective sleeves and filled to the brim.  Aberdeen gulped.  “This is somewhat of a directory of every Toronto Maple Leafs personnel you should familiarize yourself with, as they will be your colleagues,” he opened the binder for her.  He was the first one.  “Study this.  They’re your colleagues.  Important colleagues.”

“Yes sir.”

“And you can take this home tonight, but it comes right back tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll call you if I need you,” he said, returning back into his office, leaving her with the giant binder.  She looked down at it and gulped.  She wanted to go back and hug every one of her high school teachers who remembered her name after having over 90 students a semester.  She didn’t know how any of them did it.  “Oh, and Aberdeen?” Mr. Shanahan popped his head back out, startling her a bit.

“Yes sir?”

“It’s Brendan,” he smiled before disappearing into his office again.

‘No chance’ Aberdeen thought.

***

Aberdeen couldn’t believe how many handbooks there were to read.  She understood why she had to read them, but God it was tedious.  She felt what she really needed was for Mr. Shanahan to slip her “How to Play Hockey for Kids” or something – she figured she may as well start to learn about the sport she was going to be surrounded by.  Her first email was Brendan emailing her the 2019-2020 season schedule, and asking her to record every game in both his and her calendar.  

After she finished that, she went back briefly to the MLSE Employee Handbook, the book that outlined the rules that employees had to abide by.  She had laughed at some of the more ridiculous ones.  Of course, there were the regular ones any company would have – employees couldn’t be under the influence on the job, employees couldn’t engage in criminal behaviour – but three stuck out to her most.  

The first to make her giggle was number 18:

NO EMPLOYEE OF MLSE SHALL USE ANY COMPANY CREDIT CARD OR LINE OF CREDIT FOR PERSONAL PURCHASES UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO STARBUCKS COFFEE, LUNCHES, DINNERS, ALCOHOL PURCHASES, ETC.

The second to make her giggle was number 27:

NO EMPLOYEE OF MLSE SHALL GIVE, REVEAL, OR PUBLISH THE PERSONAL PHONE NUMBERS OF ANY MEMBER OF THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS, PRESIDENT, CHAIRMAN, ETC., TO ANY OUTSIDE PARTY.

And, of course, the best one, number 32:

NO EMPLOYEE OF MLSE SHALL PURSUE OR ENTER INTO A ROMANTIC OR PHYSICAL RELATIONSHIP WITH ANY MEMBER OF THE COMPANY’S PROFESSIONAL SPORTS TEAMS, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO: THE TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS, THE TORONTO RAPTORS, THE TORONTO F.C., THE TORONTO ARGONAUTS, THE TORONTO MARLIES, THE RAPTORS 905, OR TORONTO F.C. II.

She wondered what happened to whatever poor schmuck to get that made into a rule and published in the employee handbook.  

“Aberdeen,” Mr. Shanahan’s voice interrupted her thoughts.  She looked up to see his head popped out from the doorway.  “I need you to go pick up coffee for the meeting at 10am.  Now write this down,” he said.  She grabbed a stickie note and a pen as quickly as she could.  “One no foam skim latte with an extra shot, and three drip coffees with room for milk, searing hot.  And I mean searing.  Get them here as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir,” she said, ripping the stickie note off the pad and jumping up from her seat, almost forgetting her purse.

“Yes Brendan,” he called out after her, chuckling to himself.  

As she made her way through the hallways, a tall figure appeared at the end, where the staircase was.  She recognized it as Ethan, the man who had called her ‘Abbie’ just hours earlier.  “Hey Girl Friday,” he greeted her, his voice sounding much sleazier now that he wasn’t in the company of colleagues.  “You doing a coffee run?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  We need two americanos with room for milk, one grande skinny vanilla bean latte, and one venti extra shot extra hot caramel macchiato with coconut milk.”

“W—What?” she asked.

“Write it down!” his tone was a bit harsh, but she did as she was told.  “Brendan’s assistant runs coffee for us all the time.  Do you need me to repeat it?”

“No,” she said, somewhat glaring at him.  She knew the role of personal assistants – she wasn’t an idiot.  “Anything else?”

“A blueberry scone,” he said as he disappeared into his office again, wiggling his eyebrows at her before shutting the door.  She shuddered.  

The Starbucks down near the foot of the building apparently liked to take it’s sweet-ass time.  She was in a rush because she knew the meeting started at 10, and they would have probably liked to have walked in to Mr. Shanahan’s office seeing their coffees, but that wasn’t going to be the case.  The baristas didn’t finish making them until 10:10, and then she had the conundrum of how she was going to transport eight coffees and a scone without everything spilling everywhere.  She wasn’t a clown despite how much this felt like a circus, so she couldn’t juggle them in her arms.  Eventually, one of the cashiers found cardboard cup carriers, so they hung all the cups from those and she was on her way, rushing through the building and back up to the floor.  

The second she got off the elevator, Ethan was there waiting.  “What took you so long?” he demanded as he finished typing something into his phone.

“Here,” she practically flung the coffees at him for him to carry.

“No no, you need to deliver them to the guys in the office,” he didn’t even reach out for them.  “Come on, this way,” he said, having the audacity to snap his fingers for her to follow him like she was a dog.

What the fuck had she gotten herself into here?

After she delivered the coffees, she made a beeline towards Mr. Shanahan’s office.  “Is there some reason the coffees aren’t here?  Has she died or something?” she saw him pop his head out of the room.  He was asking no-one in particular, of course, since she was the only one who was supposed to be there.  But then he heard her footsteps, and her saw her rushing down the hall, and he stepped out of his office, closing the door behind him.  “Aberdeen, where have you been?”

“I – Ethan – I had to get coffee for Ethan and his department—”

“What?” Brendan asked.  “Ethan who?  Please don’t tell me Ethan Baker.”

“Y—Yes—”

“Aberdeen, why would you go and get coffee for tech and video?”

She felt stupid.  She knew she fucked up, and she didn’t want to have to explain it to him in excruciating detail, although that’s perhaps what Mr. Shanahan wanted.  “He – he saw me in the hallway and told me your assistant gets coffees for them all the time—”

“Listen to me Aberdeen,” he said, his tone serious and his voice curt.  His voice was in one of those harsh whispers that could tear apart your soul.  “Your title at Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment reads executive assistant to the president.  I am the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey club, not Ethan Baker.  You run errands for me, you get my coffee, and you do as I say, not as anybody else in this entire hockey club says, the least of which Ethan Baker.  Do I make myself clear?” he asked.

She could feel tears welling in her eyes.  “Yes sir.”

“Good.  Now give me the coffee and man the desk.  You can take your lunch hour at noon.”

She handed the coffee over to him and he walked back into his office.  A small applause erupted at the arrival of the coffee.  Mr. Shanahan closed the door behind him.  

She felt like she was going to be sick.  

***

After finished inputting the game schedule into the calendar and taking a few messages from phone calls (one rudely hung up on her when she asked how to spell Bergevin), Aberdeen saw it was noon and took out her lunch.  She left her desk to go warm it up in the staff kitchen, but…couldn’t exactly remember where it was.  She panicked.  She slipped into the door where she thought she remembered it was, based on what Brendan had pointed out very quickly earlier in the day.  

When she walked through the door, letting it close behind her, she was not greeted with a kitchen.  She was not greeted with a staff room.  She was not even greeted with an office.  Instead, she was greeted with a room completely full of men who were shirtless and in either tight workout gear or tight underwear.  

Bulges out.

Thighs out.  

Eyes on her.

“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” she gasped, her eyes going wide before turning around violently and slamming her entire body into the door because she forgot to turn the knob.  She did it again before her brain registered ‘TURN THE FUCKING KNOB!!!’ and when she did, she slipped out quickly.

The first thing she saw were the words “STAFF KITCHEN” written on a door across from her.

She should quit now.  She should really just quit now and go live in a hole forever.  

She escaped into the staff kitchen, popping her Tupperware into the microwave and setting the time for three minutes.  Half way through, the door opened again, and a middle-aged man with a Maple Leafs t-shirt and shorts on walked in.

“Hello,” he greeted her politely.  When he got a look at who she was, he smiled.  “Hey, don’t feel bad.  Happened to me the first day too.  Luckily that was where I had to go, though.”  She smiled politely at the man.  Obviously he’d seen her be a complete idiot.  “I’m Jason Spezza.  It’s nice to meet you,” he extended his hand.

Jason Spezza.  Jason Spezza.  Where had she heard that name before?  Then it hit her – in the employee directory.  Jason Spezza was one of the Maple Leafs.  She had just walked into the Toronto Maple Leafs semi-nude.  She felt like barfing.  “Nice to meet you,” she said meekly, shaking his hand.  “I’m Aberdeen Bloom.”

“First day on the job, Aberdeen?” he asked.  She nodded her head.  “What’s your position?”

“Um, I’m Mr. Shanahan’s new executive assistant,” she said.  She didn’t even know if she was allowed to talk to him.  All the rules from the MLSE Employee Handbook were running through her mind.  Would she get fired for this?  He started it.

“Ah!  Cool!” he smiled.  The microwave began to beep, signalling it was done.  “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of you then.”

“I guess so,” she mumbled, opening the door to the microwave and grabbing her Tupperware.  “Have a good day.”

She rushed back to her desk, wanting nothing more than to just crawl into a hole and die.

***

When Brendan was finished with his meeting, he called Aberdeen into his office.  She’d finished lunch by then, and was patiently waiting for the phone to ring.  He was still sitting at his desk as she walked in.

“Any phone calls?” he asked.  

“One from Tampa Bay, but they said it wasn’t urgent,” she informed him.  “And one calling on behalf of a Mr. Bergevin.  I think they said they were from Montreal.”

She could see a small smile appear on his face.  Maybe he was in a better mood now after his meeting.  “Thank you, Aberdeen.  Anything else?”

Yeah, I totally walked into your hockey team half naked.  “May I ask you a question, sir?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Am I allowed to like…talk to the Maple Leafs?”

Brendan removed his glasses.  “What do you mean?  Talk?”

“Um, well, I know you said – and in the handbook – I was in the kitchen during lunch and Jason Spezza came in and struck up a conversation with me and—”

“Aberdeen,” Brendan interrupted her with a slight chuckle.  “Aberdeen…you can talk to the players.  I expect you to talk with them and to talk with any other employees of MLSE – Maple Leafs, Raptors, whatever.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Because he was very friendly and I didn’t want to be rude and—”

“It’s okay to be cordial and be friends in a professional setting.  You’re going to be around them constantly and be travelling with them almost as much.  You’ll be in the private jet with them and attending events big and small.  It’s going to be natural to become friends.  The problem is if anything goes further than talking.  Romantic relationships, friends with benefits, hooking up as the kids are saying these days—”

“I would never,” she interrupted him.  “I would never, Mr. Shanahan.”

“I know you wouldn’t.  Don’t worry,” he said, putting his glasses back on.  “And stop calling me Mr. Shanahan.  I told you that you can call me Brendan.”

Aberdeen was still uncomfortable with the notion.  “I don’t think you understand.  My parents are immigrants.  If they found out I didn’t call someone sir or ma’am or mister or misses they’d guillotine me.”

Brendan looked at her, a smirk on his face.  “You’ll get used to it, Miss Bloom.  Now come with me.  You’re going to meet the only other man you can take orders from.”  

His name was Kyle Dubas.  He was the young general manager of the Toronto Maple Leafs – the other man most responsible for the day-to-day operations of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  The “only other man you can take orders from” turned out to be a joke, because Kyle had his own executive assistant – Peter, much much nicer than Ethan – who was responsible for that.  Kyle was incredibly nice and welcoming, and Aberdeen had to admit it put her at ease.  Even Peter made her feel welcome.  

When she and Brendan got into the elevator after leaving, there was already a man inside.  “Ah, Mr. Tanenbaum,” Brendan greeted him warmly.  Aberdeen smiled politely, but internally she was freaking out.  She’d seen Mr. Tanenbaum on TV lift the Larry O’Brien Trophy after the Raptors won the NBA title.  Now she was stuck in an elevator with him.  What was her life?

“Brendan,” Mr. Tanenbaum nodded courteously.  “How’s the preparation for the season going?”

“Great,” Brendan said.  “I must say, our most organized ever.”

“Great.  I hear we’re close to signing Mitch.  It should happen any day now.”  Brendan nodded his head silently.  “What’s that costing me?”

“Ten-point-eight million, on average,” Brendan revealed.  Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head.

“Must be a great winger,” Mr. Tanenbaum commented, causing both men to laugh.  He then focused his attention on Aberdeen.  “Larry Tanenbaum,” he extended his hand across Brendan for her to shake.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  This is Aberdeen Bloom, my new executive assistant,” Brendan introduced them quickly as the elevator pinged and the doors opened.  

“Congratulations young lady.  A million people would kill for that job,” he pointed at her as he left.  

Brendan looked at her.  “That’s Larry Tanenbaum, chairman of MLSE.”

“I know who he is,” she said.  Brendan looked shocked.  “I mean, I watched him lift the Larry O’Brien in June.”

Brendan smiled – a real, genuine smile at something she’d said.  “So you watch some sports.”

***

“We can be done for the day, Aberdeen,” Brendan announced once his meeting with Hayley Wickenheiser was over.  It was only 4pm, and she had expected to be at the office until later, so she was pleasantly surprised.  “You’re free to go.  Do you need Lou to give you a ride home?”

“Oh gosh no.  I live within walking distance from here.  I wouldn’t make him do that,” she said as she gathered her things into her purse.  

“Maybe if it was raining,” Brendan smiled, almost to himself.  Aberdeen decided not to respond.  “Come on, I’ll see you out.  How was your first day?”

I got yelled at, I went to fetch coffee, and I walked in on the hockey team half naked.  “Great,” she responded.  “Thank you for your patience with me.  I know I’m still learning but I promise I—”

“Don’t worry about it, Aberdeen,” he said as they walked towards the elevator.  “It is very much a learn as you go environment.  Especially for someone like you.”

As they stepped into the elevator together, a voice from the end of the hall screamed to hold the door.  Brendan stuck his arm out until the person appeared in an impeccably well-tailored suit, slipping by his arm into the elevator.  “Hey hey, William!”

“Hey Brendan!” William responded.

Aberdeen looked up.  As she did, she looked into a familiar pair of piercing blue eyes.  She saw a familiar head of blonde hair.  Familiar lips that kissed hers and all the way down her body, making her feel some of the greatest pleasure she’d ever felt in her short life.  

Will.  It was fucking Will.

“Aberdeen, let me introduce you to William Nylander, one of our star forwards,” Brendan said, introducing them with a giant smile on his face.  “William, this is my new executive assistant, Miss Aberdeen Bloom.”

She was going to faint.  She was actually going to faint.

“Nice to meet you,” Will said as he shook her hand.

“Likewise,” she squeaked out.  She was absolutely fucking mortified.  

“You’ll be seeing a lot of William in the future, Aberdeen, as one of our star players,” Brendan kept talking, but she could barely register his words.  Will was still looking directly at her, directly into her soul, and she felt ready to faint.  “He’s going to have a great season, this year.  We’re all looking forward to it.”

She had hooked up with a Toronto Maple Leaf.  Oh my fucking God, she had hooked up with a Toronto Maple Leaf.  And now they worked at the same company.  For the same team.  Under the same roof.  They’d be flying together.  Travelling together.  Attending charity and gala events together.  The words from the MLSE Employee Handbook flashed in her mind.  No employee of MLSE shall pursue or enter into a romantic physical relationship with any member of the company’s professional sports teams, including but not limited to: the Toronto Maple Leafs…

“I look forward to working with you,” Will said, his eyes flashing as he continued to look at her, a smile playing on his face.  

She gulped.  She’d slept with a Toronto Maple Leaf and she had to keep it a secret.  Nobody could find out that they hooked up.

Absolutely nobody.

[greatworldwar2]

• Franz von Werra (Swiss Luftwaffe Ace)

Franz Xaver Baron von Werra was a German World War II fighter pilot and flying ace who famously was shot down over Britain and made several escape attempts from Allied POW camps.

Franz Baron von Werra was born on July 13th, 1914, to impoverished Swiss parents in Leuk, a town in the Swiss canton of Valais. The title of Freiherr (equal to Baron) came from his biological father, Leo Freiherr von Werra, who after bankruptcy, faced deep economic hardship. Because his relatives were legally obliged to look after the Baron's wife and six children, his cousin Rosalie von Werra persuaded her childless friend Louise Carl von Haber to permit the Baron's youngest, Franz and his sister, to enjoy the benefits of wealth and education. Werra joined the Luftwaffe in 1936 and was commissioned a Leutnant in 1938. At the beginning of the Second World War he was serving with Jagdgeschwader 3 in the French campaign. He became adjutant of II Gruppe, JG 3 and was described as engaging in boisterous 'playboy' behavior. He was once pictured in the press with his pet lion Simba, which he kept at the aerodrome as the unit mascot.

Werra scored his first four victories in May 1940, during the Battle of France. Downing a Hawker Hurricane on May 20th, two days later he claimed two Breguet 690 bombers and a Potez 630 near Cambrai. In a sortie on August 25th, during the Battle of Britain, he claimed a Spitfire west of Rochester, and three Hurricanes, as well as five destroyed on the ground for a total of nine RAF planes eliminated. The details of the actions are unknown, as the incident has not been found in British records. On September 5th, 1940, Werra's Bf 109E-4 was shot down over Winchet Hill, Kent. It is unclear who was responsible for this victory, which was originally credited to Pilot Officer Gerald "Stapme" Stapleton of No. 603 Squadron RAF. However, the Australian ace Flight Lieutenant Paterson Hughes was posthumously given half of the credit, awarding him a bar to his DFC. Werra crash-landed his Bf 109E-4 in a field on Loves Farm and was captured by the unarmed cook of a nearby army unit. Werra was initially held in Maidstone barracks by the Queen's Own Royal West Kent Regiment, from which he attempted his first escape.

He had been put to work digging and was guarded by RMP Private Denis Rickwood, who had to face Werra down with a small truncheon, while Werra was armed with a pick axe. He was interrogated for eighteen days at the London District Prisoner of War "cage" Trent Park, an country house in Hertfordshire. Eventually, Werra was sent on to POW Camp No.1, at Grizedale Hall in the Furness Fells area of pre-1974 Lancashire, between Windermere and Coniston Water. On October 7th, he tried to escape for the second time, during a daytime walk outside the camp. At a regular stop, while a fruit cart provided a lucky diversion and other German prisoners covered for him, von Werra slipped over a dry-stone wall into a field. The guards alerted the local farmers and the Home Guard. On the evening of October 10th, at around 11:00pm, two Home Guard soldiers found him sheltering from the rain in a hoggarth (a type of small stone hut used for storing sheep fodder that is common in the area). On being removed from the hut he knocked the lamp to the ground, extinguishing the light, then he quickly escaped and disappeared into the night. On October 12th, he was spotted climbing a fell. The area was surrounded, and Werra was eventually found, almost totally immersed in a muddy depression in the ground. He was sentenced to 21 days of solitary confinement and on November 3rd was transferred to Camp No. 13 in Swanwick, Derbyshire, also known as the Hayes camp.

In Camp No. 13, Werra joined a group calling itself Swanwick Tiefbau A.G. (Swanwick Excavations, Inc.), which was digging an escape tunnel. The tunnel can still be seen at the Hayes Conference Centre. On December 17th, 1940, after a month's digging, it was complete. The camp had forgers who equipped the escape group with money and fake identity papers. On December 20th, Werra and four others slipped out of the tunnel under the cover of anti-aircraft fire and the singing of the camp choir. The others were recaptured quickly, leaving Werra to proceed alone. He had taken along his flying suit and decided to masquerade as Captain van Lott, a Dutch Royal Netherlands Air Force pilot. He told a friendly locomotive driver that he was a downed bomber pilot trying to reach his unit, and asked to be taken to the nearest RAF base. At Codnor Park railway station, a local clerk became suspicious, but eventually agreed to arrange his transportation to the aerodrome at RAF Hucknall, near Nottingham. The police also questioned him, but Werra convinced them he was harmless. At Hucknall, a Squadron Leader Boniface asked for his credentials, and Werra claimed to be based at Dyce near Aberdeen. While Boniface went to check this story, Werra excused himself and ran to the nearest hangar, trying to tell a mechanic that he was cleared for a test flight. Boniface arrived in time to arrest him at gunpoint, as he sat in the cockpit, trying to learn the controls. Werra was sent back to the Hayes camp under armed guard.

In January 1941, Werra was sent with many other German prisoners to Canada on the Duchess of York, in a convoy departing Greenock on January 10th, 1941, guarded by HMS Ramillies among others. His group was to be taken to a camp on the north shore of Lake Superior, Ontario, so Werra began to plan his escape to the United States, which was still neutral at the time. On January 21st, while on a prison train that had departed Montreal, he jumped out of a window, again with the help of other prisoners, and ended up near Smith's Falls, Ontario, 30 miles from the St. Lawrence River. Seven other prisoners tried to escape from the same train, but were soon recaptured. Werra's absence was not noticed until the next afternoon. After crossing the frozen St. Lawrence River, Werra made his way to Ogdensburg, New York, arriving several months before the US entered the war, and turned himself over to the police. The immigration authorities charged him with entering the country illegally, so Werra contacted the local German consul, who paid his bail. Thus, he came to the attention of the press and told them a very embellished version of his story. While the U.S. and Canadian authorities were negotiating his extradition, the German vice-consul helped him over the border to Mexico. Werra proceeded in stages to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Barcelona, Spain and Rome, Italy. He finally arrived back in Germany on April 18th, 1941.

On his return to Germany Werra became a hero. Adolf Hitler awarded him the Knights Cross of the Iron Cross. Werra was assigned the task of improving German techniques for interrogating captured pilots, based on his experiences with the British system. Werra reported to the German High Command on how he had been treated as a POW, and this caused an improvement in the treatment of Allied POWs in Germany. He wrote a book about his experiences titled Meine Flucht aus England (My Escape from England), although it remained unpublished. Werra returned to active service with the Luftwaffe and was initially deployed to the Russian front as Gruppenkommandeur of I./JG 53. He scored 13 more aerial victories during July 1941, raising his overall confirmed total to 21. In early August 1941, I./JG 53 withdrew to Germany to re-equip with the new Bf 109F-4, after which it moved to Katwijk in the Netherlands. On October 25th, 1941 Werra took off in Bf 109F-4 Number 7285 on a practice flight. His aircraft suffered engine failure and crashed into the sea north of Vlissingen. Werra was presumed killed, though his body was never found.

[scotianostra]

December 13th 1911 saw the death of Thomas Glover, an industrial pioneer in Japan.

Glover was born in Fraserburgh, the son of a coast guard officer in 1838 and grew up in Aberdeen, Scotland, he joined the trading company on finishing school and worked briefly in the company's Shanghai office before taking up his assignment in Japan.

After performing well for two years selling opium to local middlemen, and trading in silks, tea and guns, Glover had reportedly already developed the gruff, imposing presence necessary to those in his position so far away from home — as well as the clout to command his own cut of the deals he was doing for his employer.

When he arrived in Nagasaki in 1859, aged 21 soon started his own company trading in ships and weapons with the rebellious Satsuma and Chosu clans in Kyushu and the Tosa from Shikoku, these factions were trying to overthrow the Shogun dynasty that ruled Japan in those days so it was initially a dangerous game he was playing and it could have all went pear shaped if the rebels had not won on the day. Glover not only survived, but he prospered mightily in his first eight years in Japan.

It has to be said that up till this point, around 1863, Japan was still basically pre industrial revolution, there disputes were settled by sword, Glover and others like him changed all that, and it became a matter of urgency to acquire sidearms, rifles, machine guns — and warships, he soon became the biggest arms dealer in the on Kyushi, Japan's third biggest island.

When the Shoguns were overthrown and Japan now more open than ever before for trade with the world, the market for his weaponry soon became saturated as the new Meiji administration assumed sole control of acquisitions, while many of his old trading and drinking partners took up managerial positions. However, though his direct political influence waned, Glover’s connectedness and his experience brokering the building and sale in Japan of ocean-going ships guaranteed a favourable role for him under the new regime.

Demand for coal surged as steamships multiplied in Japanese waters. Glover, in partnership with the Hizen Clan, invested in developing the Takashima coal mine on an island near Nagasaki in 1868. Their mine was the first in Japan to employ Western methods of mining. Financial troubles later forced Glover to sell his stake, but he stayed on as manager of the mine for several more years. Mitsubishi acquired the mine in 1881 in the organization's first main diversification beyond shipping.

Another enterprise Glover played a role in that later became part of Mitsubishi is the Nagasaki Shipyard. Japan lacked modern facilities for repairing ships. So, Glover imported the necessary equipment for a slip dock in Nagasaki in 1868. He later sold his share to the government, which leased the dock to Mitsubishi as part of the shipyard in 1884.

While his involvement in the arms trade is questionable morally Glover is seen as having helped influence Japan in other ways, indeed an Enlightenment similar to The Scottish one has been mentioned in some of the sources I have looked at while compiling this post, with the spread of the new Meiji Era universities which evolved from English schools in the country.

Glover never returned to Scotland, he did spend two years in the US but returned to Japan, he had a common-law marital relationship with a Japanese woman named Awajiya Tsur and they had a daughter together.

Glover's former residences in Nagasaki has since been turned into museums, with the Glover Garden house in Nagasaki attracting two million visitors each year. There is also a statue of Thomas Blake Glover in Glover Garden, Nagasaki.

[harrison-abbott]

When I was at university in my first year I did a film course. It was a pretty cool course. You just got to watch screenings on the campus, and then do essays on the movies.

There came a point where we had an assignment. And I didn’t know where to locate the information vis a vis how we were supposed to write the essay. So I emailed the course co-ordinator about where I could find said information on the university site. And, he responded to me thus:

“I don’t know why I’ve received this email because you’re not in my tutorial class. You have been informed, however, several times, that the files are in ---[this location---].”

And when he told me where the location was on the site, he actually said the wrong information.

I often find it bizarre how people in academia are supposed to be clever, and therefore moral. To respond to a student who was only asking for help as rudely as that was just baffling. He could have just said, ‘Here is the file.”

Although to be fair that was one of the only poor incidents I had from teachers at University of Aberdeen. Most of them were pretty inspiring people.

[d1dlez]

Love Drowned

@dianakko-week Day 3 : how they fell in love 

pairing : diakko / dianakko (diana + atsuko)

reading time : ~ 5min 

approximate word count : 1200

context : this is an AU where Luna Nova is a normal school, but with professional SWIMMERS in training, in stead of witches. Diana talks about her days to her dead mother through her diary. As the days go by, Diana tends to write more and more about Akko, not even realizing she is spilling her love interest to her mother.

I based the ‘moment they fell in love’, on the episode of the anime, where there is the big witch ceremonial festival, where Diana summons a unicorn, and the red team get eaten by a big sad ghost. Yeah, that’s that. 

(i’m also sorry i got to lazy to properly finish this, but i will try to continue this AU later on. alsotheendingisapracticaljoke, it doesn't actually happen, lmao)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Sun) September 1st , 2014

Good evening Bernadette,

 Today is the last day of summer, which means, school is starting over. Finally.

New year, new beginnings.

As you already well know, vacation has always been a time of the year I dread most. Having to endure two months of it, is an amount of time utterly painful for me. How can I become the world’s greatest swimmer, if so much time of my life is wasted on things else than training?

But alas, time has come.

This also means, there are only two more years before graduation, and I’ll be off to university. Each year passing by, has only got more thrilled!

 Jeana is worried about me. She says that ever since you pa , ever since you told us your farewells, she has judge me too hard of a worker. Though she is always so polite, it seems she is inclined to using the term “sportaholic”. She says it would pain you to see me so deep into my training, “never taking a brake” as she puts it. Is it true? Do you worry for me? For I must assure you, I find myself most fine and content in my hard work. I hope you can see that.

---------------------------------------------------------

 (M) September 2nd , 2014

 Good evening Bernadette,

 Today went by quickly. Nothing much changed since last year. My classmates are almost all the same. Anna and Barbara are still by my side, like always. They haven’t changed either. Always chattering and blabbing about anything and everything. I’d forgot how much I preferred to be alone. I usually find the silence quite comforting. I believe the library will yet again be my best friend. Although I must say, nothing can ever relieve my heart the way you do. You’ve been such a great friend and listener to me all these years, through and through. I certainly can’t thank you enough. I miss you. Always.

---------------------------------------------------------

(F) September 6th , 2014

 Good evening Bernadette,

 For the first in a long time, a new student has arrived in our school. She is from a foreign country. Japan. She will be in my class for the year.

As head of school club comity, and Luna Nova’s best student, it was my duty to accompany her throughout the school. After the tour, we said our goodbyes, and I haven’t payed much attention to her since. Or at least, I tried. Work is always more interesting than most people of course. Yet, in the little time this new girl has been here, she’s been making quiet a fool out of herself.

She doesn’t listen in class, often distracts everyone with her unspeakable manners, and worst of all, when we did our first swimming lesson, she didn’t know how to dive! It was quite ridiculous seeing her in such struggle. I am still perplexed as to how Luna Nova could allow such low trained commoner enter our team.

---------------------------------------------------------

 (W) September 27th 2014

 Good evening Bernadette,

 Today was spent making preparations for the synchronized swimming event we are holding next week. Establishments from all around the United Kingdom and Ireland will be participating. The festival is something quite intense and a bit stressful for our teachers and the principal. It is why I naturally accepted to help with the making of posters and to organize the new shower head delivery and the arrangements of new pool filters to complete the renovations.

The event must be perfect. After all, Luna Nova has its reputation at stake.

---------------------------------------------------------

 (F) September 30th 2014

 Good evening Bernadette,

 Today was the great “Luna Nova Autumn Dive Festival”. Everything was in order. Everything was perfect.

All the snacks had been laid out, posters put in place, showers scrubbed, and prizes stored.

When th evening started, the classes of Dublin were the first to present. Then came that of Limerick. Then Whales and London. Aberdeen, Edimburg, Cambridge, thus leaving the hosts for last.

Each school had remarkable performances, though the judges seemed particularly unimpressed.

I had spent the night before the event, embroidering our ancestral coat of arms on my suit, believing it would provide me with our family’s hope and strength.

So finally came my turn.

Although the event held most rules from the sport, some other specific things were allowed too. This is why the girls and I had agreed on making a very special move at the end of our performance. 

As the show unraveled, after spinning a few times at the top of the water, all three of us plunged under the surface. Anna went at the bottom of the pool, while Barbara put herself on her hands. This allowed me to go on top of her, and to push through the surface of the water, with a back layout flip before diving back into the water without disturbing it.

As I swam to the ladder and pulled myself out of the pool, multiple students from other teams came running at my side to congratulate me. The crowd all around also seemed quite impressed. I must say the recognition of my hard work was quiet comforting.

I wish you had been there to see it.

  actually… you’re right. There is something else. Something troubling me... It’s about Atsuko Kagari. You know, the new foreign student.

Because this event concerned our school, all of our classes had to participate, meaning that even though the new girl could barely swim a few laps without running out of breath, she still had to put on a show, like everyone else. Yet, she didn’t seem discouraged at all. Quite the opposite actually. She was fierce and determined. Until the very last second, she was training in the second pool, to make sure she could compete.

I’ve seen her train. Day after day she stayed past school curfew, sneaking at night into the pool, to work and train. But what was most shocking, was the look she gave,that day ; when she came out of the pool and through the changing room, still dripping, and stared at me dead in the eyes : “Watch me.” was all she said, before entering the second pool to show the judges.

The power this girl holds, just bewilders me. Though she says she doesn’t want to prove herself to anyone, I simply refuse to believe her. How could such a frail girl hold such determination…

---------------------------------------------------------

 (W) October 14th 2014

 Good evening,

 Atsuko Kagari is such a pain.

Let me enlighten you on the subject. She has been continuously falling behind the program and her grades are disastrous! This implies she has to work extra time, thus meaning she hasn’t any time from training, and though professor Ursula has been her assigned mentor, she has been notably unable to provide Atsuko with the right aid, so, the teacher counselors have now turned to me.  

I used to love helping people. It has always been my noble “cup of tea”, but when it comes to Atsuko, my patience suddenly vacates me immediately. No matter the effort I give, it is like she is bound to go toward the opposite of scholar success. This doesn’t either amply her troublesome attitude, which has already caused her near expulsion for the third time this week.

I am lost to what to do. Some help would much be appreciated. Until next time.

 ---------------------------------------------------------

*many, many, MANY pages later*

---------------------------------------------------------

 (F) December 13th 2014

 Evening,

I think im gay

[alexriehman]

Trip to Bridgeport

In the second week of Chicago excursions I was assigned to explore the neighborhood of Bridgeport.  Bridgeport is located in the city’s south side, the neighborhood is confined to the north by the south branch of the Chicago river stretching south to Pershing Road.  Laterally the neighborhood spans from the Union Pacific Railroad tracks in the east, to Bubbly Creek in the west.  Bridgeport possesses the title as the oldest neighborhood in the city of Chicago, officially becoming Bridgeport Township in 1863.  The history of Bridgeport and what survives today projects different stories about the neighborhood.  Originally an Irish enclave of industry, Bridgeport today is ethnically diverse with many varying socioeconomic levels residing in the neighborhood.  

Map of Bridgeport 

Industry began to boom in Bridgeport around 1830 when Stearns’ Quarry established a limestone quarry, dynamiting in the neighborhood until 1969 (Bloom, 2020).  Industrialization swallowed the area, by 1905 the first privately owned and managed industrial park was established, called the Central Manufacturing District.  The owners of the park invested into the neighborhood, building roads, public emergency services, a bank, and even leisure businesses.  The demographic composed today in Bridgeport one will find around two of five residents being Asian, and one of five residents being of Hispanic dissent (Statistical Atlas, 2020).  Immigrants from the old world flooded Bridgeport in aims for a working job.  The Irish flooded the neighborhood first, soon to follow were northern and eastern European immigrants.  Important to the neighborhood during the beginning of the 20th century was the railroad construction nearby (Bloom, 2020).  Many of the workers who recently migrated were Mexican, who established homes in the neighborhood (Bloom, 2020). The remainder of the 20th century and leading to modern day, Bridgeport witnessed many Asian immigrants moving to the area.  Being within close proximity to the city’s long-standing, well-established Chinatown district.  Also residing near the historic district of Bronzeville, the population consists of African American and Hispanic dwellers.  

What was once a booming sector of industry, today Bridgeport is now a cultural center for art and diversity.  The neighborhood although slightly large on scale, is entitled to a strong sense of community.  This strong sense of community may be one such production of the deeply rooted religious structures seen very visibly throughout the neighborhood.  Apparent to the neighborhood is its nonsecular nature, with many ornate and magnificent churches.  Also clearly apparent in Bridgeport, is the neighborhood’s lust for art, specifically modern, urban art;  two art centers stand just a stone’s throw apart from one another.  To note as well is the neighborhood repurposing efforts to transition areas of industry into public spaces.  Many parks are scattered throughout Bridgeport today.  On my visit to the neighborhood I was able to explore one of these parks, also I witnessed a few churches, and was able to tour the neighborhood’s art center.  

During the Friday excursion of the neighborhood, I began my day at the Bridgeport Art Center.  The art center is located on 35th Street, at 1200 West 35th Street, in the central manufacturing district; once the location for the Spiegel Catalog warehouse.  Established in 2001, the Bridgeport Art Center is focused to continuously serve as a resource for creative minds, and to be the beacon for the innovating Chicago art scene (Bridgeport Art Center, 2020).  The art center is home to numerous artists, designers, and working professionals.  Incredibly, I was fortunate enough and one of the first to attend the art center on the same day of its 4th Floor Gallery opening reception.  The gallery’s newest theme entitled ‘Where’s the Revolution,’ is an exhibition featuring political art expressing varying points of view of global politics and social justice standards (Bridgeport Art Center, 2020).  The exhibits displayed depict themes current to modern issues in America.  At the forefront of the exhibits were criticisms of the current presidency, as well as the extremely salient movement of Black Lives Matter.  In one work the artist depicts the final words of George Floyd, “I can’t breathe.”  The artistic piece utilizes yarn on canvas to depict the final words, in the artist’s own words, “lives holding by a thread.”  Many of the artistic works also present an underlying theme of police brutality targeted against racial minorities.  

I Can’t Breathe by Pinar Aral 

Floyd by Victoria Goite 

Although the 4th Floor Gallery was fascinating to explore and witness, I was able to meet and discuss with internationally acclaimed Italian sculptor, Virginio Ferrari.  During my walkthrough of the 4th Floor Gallery I was confronted by a waste management consultant who worked in the building.  He thought it would be an advantageous opportunity to meet and have a dialogue with Ferrari.  I agreed to his opportunity and he escorted me to Ferrari’s work space in the basement of the building.  

Virginio Ferrari’s Workshop in Bridgeport Art Center 

I had the ability to have a personal tour of Ferrari’s shop by the man himself.  He discussed his life story and beginnings of his artistic career.  Mentored by his father and grandfather in the trade of stone cutting, Ferrari learned respect for the craft, and has continued his family’s legacy since.  Ferrari is an immigrant of Italy who migrated to Chicago in the 1960s.  After his migration to Chicago, Ferrari would serve for one decade as the Assistant Professor of Art and Sculptor in Residence, at the prestigious University of Chicago (Ferrari, 2020).  Ferrari has thirty monumental pieces alone in Chicago, and other works can be witnessed all over the world, with sculptures located in Europe, Asia, and throughout the continental United States.  Some of his most notable works found in Chicago include the Being Born exhibition near the Ohio Feeder Ramp in Riverside North, as well as the controversial exhibit Dialogo, which casts a shadow annually on May Day that depicts the Communist sickle and hammer (Ferrari, 2020).  Even at the age of eighty-three year, Ferrari is still active with his craftsmanship, constantly creating new sculptures in his Bridgeport workspace.  

Being Born by Virginio Ferrari

Although the opportunity to meet the world renowned sculptor, Virginio Ferrari, was incredibly exciting, there was still more to see of the neighborhood.  After my visit to the Bridgeport Art Center, I continued my morning walkthrough of Bridgeport by viewing a couple of churches located in near proximity.  The first church I was able to visit was the Roman Catholic Church of St. Mary of Perpetual Help.  This church has been standing in Bridgeport since 1882 (St. Mary of Perpetual Help Church, 2020).  Its establishment was influenced by the growing Polish immigrant population in the area.  It served as a community home for these Polish immigrants, and still serves today as the parish for the Catholic girl high school, De La Salle Institute.  The building itself is magnificent with elaborate towers and a colossal dome, with intricate detailing found all over the building.  

St. Mary of Perpetual Help Church, 1039 West 32nd Street 

After my walk by the St. Mary Church, I was able to see the Monastery of the Holy Cross.  This monastery was established a century later than the previous parish discussed, in 1988.  Although the monastery was established in 1988, the building in which the monastery resides was once the home of a Polish parish, the Immaculate Conception Church (Monastery of the Holy Cross, 2020). The Monastery of the Holy Cross was founded by three missionary priests who sought out to combat the challenges of evangelization in the modern world (Monastery of the Holy Cross, 2020). The priest's mission was evangelization of the modern ‘desert’ of the city, which faces issues of violence, alienation, and spiritual poverty (Monastery of the Holy Cross, 2020).  To comment on the building, the monastery is found at the location of the former Immaculate Conception church.  The building although simple in design, with a only singular vertical turret attached, is known for its beauty.  The sheer height of the tower was quite remarkable to witness in person.  

Monastery of the Holy Cross, 3111 South Aberdeen Street

As the end of my trip neared, I decided to visit one of the local parks in the neighborhood.  Located at 2700 South Halsted Street, in the heart of the Bridgeport neighborhood, I was able to visit the Palmisano Park and Quarry.  Prior to the park, the area was most well known for the Stearns’ Quarry, in which massive amounts of limestone were extracted from the earth.  This twenty-six acre site offers a bountiful amount of activities for visitors to enjoy.  The park includes a fishing pond, interpretive wetlands, preserved quarry walls, trails, an athletic field, a running track, and over one and a half miles of walking trails (Chicago Park District, 2020).  The park itself was  gorgeous to walk around.  It provided an incredible view of the Chicago skyline, and most notably preserves the land of the neighborhood.  This park was very refreshing to experience.  Being in the city can be overwhelming with the lack of green space, but the Palmisano Park adds a much needed escape from the urban environment.  It is hard to imagine, but the natural landscape of Chicago is composed of a marsh, and this is made very apparent through the park.  Tall grasses and a pond were just two obvious features of the park displaying marsh characteristics.  It was a pleasant surprise to discover this park.  Even though I have been living in the area for two years now, it was exciting to explore a new green space in close relation to my university.  

View of Chicago Skyline from Palmisano Park 

Fishing Pond at Palmisano Park 

Looking back on my trip to Bridgeport, the neighborhood is a multicultural enclave in a new emerging art scene.  The oldest neighborhood of the city of Chicago surprised me with its numerous cultural identities.  Initially founded by mainly Irish immigrants, the neighborhood has transformed its identity through the inclusion of other minorities.  Immigrants from Mexico and Asia have built a new home for themselves in the neighborhood.  The city in its past has been considered segregated, but this was not the impression I felt during my visit to the neighborhood.  Bridgeport if anything, is a hub of acceptance and integration, consisting of many varying cultural and ethnic backgrounds.  Made apparent by the religious institutions littered around the neighborhood, Bridgeport is a melting pot of culture, history, and art.  Some individuals debate whether or not Bridgeport is the next ‘hipster’ neighborhood.  I think that Bridgeport has the potential to grow to be this hipster hub.  With two art centers already established in the neighborhood, along with a collection of unique restaurants, and public spaces for neighborhood residents to enjoy; Bridgeport, although the oldest neighborhood, is still transforming and staying up-to-date with cultural and social activities.  I would recommend any visitor of Chicago to explore Bridgeport.  As illustrated previously throughout this post, the neighborhood is compiled of varying commercial, religious, residential, and public spaces.  Also home to the Chicago White Sox, the neighborhood offers plenty of activities for visitors to expierence.  Bridgeport is a neighborhood of detailed and extensive history, but it is still transforming to serve the needs of its people.  

Sources 

Bloom, J. G. (2012). Images of America: Bridgeport. Retrieved September 25,2020, from https://www.google.com/books/edition/Bridgeport/JpjWCdLKyzEC?hl=en 

Bridgeport Art Center. (2020). 4th Floor Gallery. Retrieved September 25, 2020, from https://bridgeportart.com/ 

Ferrari, M. G. (2020, September 02). Virginio Ferrari Foundation. Retrieved September 25, 2020, from https://virginioferrarifoundation.org/ 

St. Mary of Perpetual Help Church. (2020). History. Retrieved September 25, 2020, from http://www.stmaryofperpetualhelp.com/p/history-of-our-church.html 

Monastery of the Holy Cross. (2020). Our History. Retrieved September 25, 2020, from https://chicagomonk.org/about-us/our-history/ 

Chicago Park District. (2020). Palmisano Park. Retrieved September 25, 2020, from https://www.chicagoparkdistrict.com/parks-facilities/palmisano-henry-park 

Statistical Atlas. (2020). Race and Ethnicity in Bridgeport, Chicago, Illinois. Retrieved September 25, 2020 from https://statisticalatlas.com/neighborhood/Illinois/Chicago/Bridgeport/Race-and-Ethnicity 

Photos

All of the photos illustrated throughout the blog were taken by me except for the following images:

Map of Bridgeport:

https://www.google.com/books/edition/Bridgeport/JpjWCdLKyzEC?hl=en 

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 130: In Plain Sight (Transcript) - 25th November 2019

tw: none

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

In early winter of 1822, Captain Samuel Barrett Edes became a hero. He was sailing in the south-east Pacific when he and his crew encountered a Dutch ship that was in trouble. Edes managed to save every single one of the Dutch soldiers, and then headed for the city of Batavia, known today as Jakarta, to drop them off and see if a reward could be collected. While he waited, he did some shopping. Now, Edes wasn’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but he owned a small portion of the ship he sailed and of course, he was expecting a handsome reward for his heroic efforts. With this in mind, he kept an eye open for something unusual and conversation-worthy to take home, and that’s when he saw it. It was a mummified mermaid. It was over two feet long, had the curved tail one might find on a fish, but the upper body of something much more human in shape. It was brown from the preservation process, wrinkled with age and entirely addictive to look at, and Captain Edes knew instantly that he had to own it. In late January of 1822, he did something bold. He sold the ship he did not fully own and used the proceeds to buy the mermaid. Then he found transportation back to London and put the odd creature on display, because just about everyone who saw it believed that it was real.

Of course, there were those who could see through the hoax. Captain Edes had been fooled by a clever craftsman who had sewn the torso of an orangutan onto the lower half of a large salmon. Elements were added to the face and hands to give it a more humanlike appearance, but those with training in natural science and anatomy could spot the hidden clues that gave it all away. That didn’t matter to most people, though. The idea that mermaids could be real had been around for centuries, so when something as powerful as a mummified specimen floated into their world, they were blind to its flaws and impossibility. They wanted to believe, deep down inside, that the hybrids of folklore actually existed. Today, we know a lot more about our world than we used to, but if we were to go back in time and live through a less learned age, we would be amazed at the stories that await us, tales of creatures that sit at the very edge of our imagination, living things that defy logic, and monsters that inspire wonder. Our hearts want to believe while our minds are ready to move on. Instead, what we tend to feel is a mixture of deep curiosity and primal fear, and if the tales from the past are any indication, there’s a good reason why. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

 When we talk about the natural world, the very first thing we need to do is gain some perspective. Today, we live in a technologically rich society. We carry supercomputers in our pockets that are more powerful than the ones that sent the first humans to the moon. We can walk past an intriguing part of our neighbourhood, pull out our phones and look at a satellite map or do a search for more information. We’re still hungry people, curious and drawn to unanswered questions, but rather than starving in a house with little food, we feast each day on a never-ending buffet of answers and information. Today, if you want to know something, chances are good you can learn about it in an instant, but hundreds of years ago, that was an impossibility. Not that people didn’t try, though. 2000 years ago, a Roman named Gaius Plinius Secundus attempted to gather everything knowable into one place, and he did an admirable job considering the world he lived in. Gaius was born into a wealthy Roman family in the year 24AD and followed a path of privilege all the way to the top. He was well educated, well connected, and when he entered the Roman military, he quickly rose to the second highest level possible – the equestrian order. Once out of the military, he served as a lawyer, before being assigned various governorships around the empire, and towards the end of his life, he had the privilege to serve as advisor to two different emperors. Today, we know him as Pliny the Elder, but in his day, Gaius was a success story.

Looking back, his biggest legacy was his 37 volume collection of knowledge called Natural History. It was possibly the world’s first encyclopaedia, gathering everything known about a whole array of subjects, from farming and botany to geography and anthropology, but the most influential contribution, filling up volumes seven through 11, were his writings on zoology, the study of all living creatures. But here’s the thing – Pliny the Elder, like everyone else in his society, lacked the proper tools to dig deep and apply hard science to every creature he wrote about. He also lacked the ability to travel and see each animal he described, so he relied heavily on others, like Aristotle’s Historia Animalium and the writings of Eratosthenes and Hipparchus, and that meant his collection was less than perfect. How so? Well, his work on zoology included such amazing animals as dragons, mermen, and even something called a blemmyae, a race of hairy, human-like beings who literally had no head on their shoulders, with eyes and a mouth right in the middle of their chest. Pliny was thorough, for sure, but not very discerning with his source material.

But what his work did do was give birth to something a lot of people have heard of, a type of book known as a bestiary. It took a while for their availability to spread, but by the early middle ages, bestiaries were a common enough resource. They were, at the basic level, books about known animals, typically with colourful drawings to help the reader visualise the specific details of each entry, and over the centuries, some editions became more popular than others. One of the most famous is the Aberdeen Bestiary, an illuminated manuscript that dates back to the 12th century. Aside from being a beautiful example of medieval artwork – and I mean that, you should seriously do an internet search for sample pages – the Aberdeen Bestiary is also a powerful example of just how popular these books really were. It’s filled with images of all sorts of animals, along with rocks, fish, trees and even worms, and a lot of the entries in the manuscript include notes about the nature of the thing in question, making it a valuable reference tool for any budding naturalist. But these bestiaries did more than that – they inspired the popular culture of their day.

England’s King John, who reigned from 1177 to 1216 was said to have a copy of Pliny the Elder’s Natural History in his personal collection, and John’s son and successor, King Henry III, even used images from it to decorate one of the chambers at Westminster. As their popularity spread, more and more writers got in on the tradition. The Norman poet Philip de Thaun wrote a bestiary about a generation after William the Conqueror invaded England, and it became a gift for King Henry II’s wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine. Even Leonardo da Vinci made one. It seems if you were an intelligent person in the middle ages or the Renaissance, making your own bestiary was practically a rite of passage – and let’s be honest, colourful manuscripts filled with unbelievable creatures and animals that defied logic couldn’t not be popular. Humans have this innate desire to look at curious things. We’ve always been rubberneckers, straining to take a long, hard look at things that sit outside our normal experience, and the spread of bestiaries is proof of that. But those ancient books and manuscripts also teach us something else about ourselves. Human beings are creative creatures. When faced with a mysterious gap in our knowledge, we’re more likely to invent something to plug the hole than to leave the question unanswered – and what we’ve come up with is equal parts entertaining and downright terrifying.

 I mentioned earlier how the internet and the accessibility of powerful devices has given us an edge over our predecessors, and in a lot of ways that’s true. Yes, we have access to a huge majority of our collective knowledge, but not all of it. In fact, there are still things we don’t know. For example, scientists today believe that there are roughly 8.7 million animal species on this planet, and yet 86% of the ones that would live on land still haven’t been discovered or studied, and it’s even worse inside our oceans, where over 90% of life is still a mystery to us. We know a lot, yes, but our world is massive and diverse, and that makes the learning process slow and tedious. Some animals are also a bit harder to track down, they’re less abundant or more shy, and so it’s made studying them more of a challenge. A good example is the platypus. For a very long time, scientists thought the descriptions of it were nothing more than a hoax. I mean, it was rumoured in 1799 to be a hybrid of a duck and a water rat, part mammal and part bird, with venomous spurs that could kill a dog, and while we’ve learnt more about them over the years, the platypus is still an allusive creature. A recent documentarian was able to get what he considered to be a goldmine of actual footage of the animal, amounting to about 30 seconds, and when only half a minute of film is something to celebrate, you know the animal is hard to study.

Of course, while we’re searching for new species, the ones we do know about are slowly dying off, which doesn’t help. Some estimates place the number of species on the edge of extinction at around 20,000, and more get added to that list all the time. For the medieval writers of bestiaries, this would be their worst nightmare. All those creatures belong in their books, and yet they keep slipping away. But at the same time, not being able to see an animal never really stopped those ancient writers from including it in their catalogue of life on earth. In fact, there are a lot of entries that would cause most people to scratch their heads, because while, yes, we’ve grown in our understanding of the world around us, these bestiaries serve as a time capsule of our gullibility. As far back as Pliny the Elder’s collection on natural history, we can see those less believable creatures pop up. He once wrote that thousands of sea-nymphs known as neriads had washed up on the shores of what is modern day France, and that they looked just like the nymphs of the land, except that they were covered in fish scales. He also wrote about that fiery bird of legend known as the phoenix, which was known to burst into flames before re-emerging from its own ashes. And of course, I’ve already mentioned his fascination with mermen and blemmyae. It seems that Pliny the Elder had an obsession with gathering all known creatures, whether or not he had witnessed them with his own eyes.

Other historians added their own contributions to those mystical lists as well, and if I ran through it for you now, it would sound like a recap of the Harry Potter series. Hippos and elephants shared the same space as hippogriffs and mandrakes. There were dragons and tritons, giants and sea monsters. Honestly, it sometimes seemed that if a young child could draw a picture of it, that was good enough to get it included. Of course, some creatures were more popular than others, and that popularity varied from culture to culture. In Europe, one of the most talked about creatures of all was also one of the smallest, but don’t let its size fool you, because there was nothing safe about the basilisk. Our old friend, Pliny the Elder, wrote about it 2000 years ago, describing it as a serpent with legs that was no larger than a foot in length. But what it lacked in size, it more than made up for with attitude and special features. A basilisk was said to stand tall on its back legs and had a crown-like plume on top of its head. And they were dangerous, too – according to the stories, basilisks were so poisonous that even looking at them could get you killed. Other creatures avoided the like the plague, and wherever they chose to make their nests, the plant life would die and wither away. One description I read said that if a man on horseback stabbed the basilisk with a spear, the poison was so powerful that it could climb up the spear, kill the man, and then kill the horse as well.

Of course, when something is that powerful and deadly, it eventually becomes the centrepiece of tales of valour. It’s said that Alexander the Great once killed a basilisk, and like many of the other legends about him, he did it in a way that proved not just his might but also his intelligence. It’s said that he polished his shield until it was like a mirror, and then approached the creature holding it outward. When the basilisk saw its own reflection, it fell victim to its poisonous gaze and instantly dropped dead. We can find images of the basilisk in just about every bestiary in existence, most of which look like a cross between a snake and a rooster. There’s a statue of one in Vienna, commemorating an 11th century hunt, and there’s even a church in Sweden with a carved relief showing St. Michael stabbing one with a spear. So popular was this creature that people sold powders that they claimed to be ground-up basilisk, something that most people purchased for use in alchemy, but more than a few used as an antidote to poison. Everywhere you look through the middle ages and earlier, the basilisk is waiting to rear its poisonous little head. You can see society’s attraction to it in their folklore and superstition, a mixture of fear and fascination, of wonder and disgust. For centuries, it popped up in stories whispered all around Europe, like a well-loved character in a popular book series. But if one account is any indication, it might not be a work of fiction after all.

 The people of Warsaw had a problem on their hands. They were two decades into a new political structure known as the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and while it gave a lot of freedom to the wealthy and elite, it left the lower class in a constant state of fear and oppression. Life in the city was challenging for many people, but that was the new normal. In 1587, though, something happened to put the people of Warsaw on edge. Livestock in the area around an old, ruined building had begun to turn up dead. Even a few of the neighbouring residents had been found poisoned in their beds, washing over the community with a wave of grief and loss. And in the midst of all that confusion and pain, two of the neighbourhood children disappeared. Well, disappeared might not be the right word for it. Folks had seen the two young girls playing near the ruins, they had watched them laugh and skip and revel in the freedom and joy that came with childhood, most likely muttering quiet prayers that it would last as long as possible. The neighbours knew what sort of hard life awaited those girls once they were old enough to work and carry their own weight. Their joy must have been bittersweet.

And then someone watched them step inside the ruins. That was the first reason to worry. Folks avoided the ruins for a good reason – it was dark and dangerous, and the cellar beneath it had been a den for all sorts of animals. So, whoever it was that watched them disappear into the shadows most likely headed over to warn the girls’ parents. When everyone arrived at the ruins to call them out, though, they were no longer visible. While there was a good chance they had simply moved on to a new playground, someone decided to peer inside the dark cellar, and there, laying on the broken stone floor, were the sleeping forms of both girls. So, one of the older women stepped inside to wake them. A moment later, though, she collapsed into a heap beside the girls, sending the growing crowd into a panic. They didn’t know what was causing the people inside the cellar to lose consciousness, but they knew there was something dangerous about the dark space, so they sent for a fire hook – a long pole with a metal hook on the end – and then reached in and pulled each body out into the light. All three of them were dead, and not just dead – they were bloated and dark, as if they’d been dead for days. Most frightening of all, though, was that their eyes seemed to be protruding from their sockets. No one could be sure, but it almost looked as if they’d been frightened to death.

Wanting answers, they sent for Benedictus, the king’s very own physician. If anyone would have the skill to identify the danger, it would be him. And, sure enough, after taking a long look at the trio of bodies, he brought them a definitive answer. All of them had been killed by a basilisk. In an instant, the atmosphere around the old ruins changed. Newcomers came to watch, while leaders gathered to form a plan. Something had to be done, and just like the stories all of them had grown up with, it seemed that a basilisk hunt was in order, but the trouble was no one wanted to risk their lives by entering the cellar to kill it – not even Benedictus, who seemed to know the most about the creature. But they had an idea. A group of leaders from the community quickly headed to the local jail, where two men awaited execution for various capital crimes. Each man was given the same offer: come kill the basilisk, and you will receive a full pardon and your freedom as a reward. It seemed like an easy choice, too – inside jail, there was no chance of survival. Outside, though, there was at least the possibility they might survive. It made sense to everyone.

The first criminal declined the offer, but the other one, a man named Johann Faurer, agreed to help. He was escorted from the jail to the old ruins, where Benedictus awaited him with tools and instructions. The townsfolk had quickly gathered dozens of small mirrors and sewn them onto a pair of leather pants and a coat. I imagine Johann gave the old physician a sideways glance at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, but at the same time, he would have known the folklore just as well as everyone else. Alexander the Great had defeated a basilisk using a mirror-like shield, so why would it not work for him? With a crowd of over 2000 witnesses watching, Johann began to carefully walk into the ruins, where he entered the cellar. He had a long rake in one hand and a torch in the other, to light his way, and as soon as he stepped into the darkness below, he cried out that he could see it – a long, serpent-like tail, with a head that resembled that of a rooster, right down to the crown-like plumage. Benedictus called out instructions to the man. “Grab it with the rake,” he told him, “and then carry it out here into the light.” Johann shouted back that he understood, and the entire crowd began to shift and rumble. If a basilisk was going to be dragged out of the ruins, no one wanted to be around to see it, so they all ran for cover and hid their eyes. When Johann emerged, he held the writhing creature by the neck in one of his gloved hands. They daylight somehow made it weaker, and that gave Benedictus the courage to step closer and examine it. It looked exactly like the bestiaries of old had taught him – the body of a snake, four long legs and a head that looks very much like a rooster.

But sadly, this is where the account of the basilisk hunt ends. Whoever had been recording the events had most likely been in the crowd, and when Johann had begun to emerge from the cellar, they had followed the crowd into hiding, which leaves the ending a bit of a mystery. Who killed the creature, when all was said and done, and how did they do it, knowing the risks the old legends spoke of? What we do know is this: the Warsaw basilisk hunt of 1587 was the last time the creature was reported anywhere in Europe. Maybe it had been the last of its kind, and its death marked its extinction, or perhaps the few that survived had a knack for staying out of sight – like the platypus of Australia. Either way, all that was left from that moment on were legends and stories. Like so many creatures that have once walked the earth, the basilisk – if it was ever real to begin with – has slipped into the shadows of the past, and it’s never been seen again.

 There really is something delightful about the bestiaries of old. Their colourful pages and evocative descriptions were beyond sensational. In a world without television, radio or easily accessible works of fiction, those catalogues of natural history were the closest most people could get to travelling the world. Of course, the things most authors chose to include in their bestiaries would probably never make the cut in our modern times. After all, headless tribesmen with eyes on their chests, unicorns and sea nymphs all feel more like characters in a fantasy novel than entries in a study on the world’s flora and fauna. And yet some of those expectations have been broken over the years. For centuries, sailors told stories about the kraken, enormous sea creatures that could reach out and drag an entire ship underwater with its long tentacles. King Sverre of Norway recorded its description way back in 1180, and for hundreds of years people claimed to spot them in the waters of the ocean. Then, in 1853, the carcass of a giant squid washed up on a Danish beach, giving the legend new life. Over the century and a half since then, scientists have determined that there is indeed a giant sea creature that fits the ancient descriptions – give or take a few sinking ships, of course – and while they’ve been challenging to catch on film, we now know they exist. And those mermaids of old might have roots in actual animals as well. Many scientists and scholars now believe that old reports of mermaids could very well be mistaken sightings of an aquatic mammal known as the manatee. As is so often the case, our misunderstandings had given birth to frightening legends, only to have science bring a bit of clarity to the tale. Sometimes the monsters of the ancient world turn out to be real, and sometimes legends inspire new discoveries.

In the part of the world that stretches from Mexico to South America, scientists have been familiar for over a century with a lizard from the iguana family. It’s not the largest reptile around, but it can grow to around 2ft in length, and it can run at amazing speeds. Some scientists refer to it as the Jesus Christ Lizard because of its strange ability to run across the surface of water. But its most common name is based on other features, like its tendency to run on two legs and its serpent-like body – a body that’s topped with a head and plumes reminiscent of a crown or a rooster, which is why its name is both logical and a bit of a throwback. They call it the basilisk.

 There’s something enticing about the mysteries that fill the gaps in our knowledge of the world around us. Looking back at the bestiaries of the middle ages, its clear humans have had a lot of fun filling those holes, and the creativity of the past has continued to inspire stories today. But there’s one more creature I want to tell you about. Stick around after this brief sponsor break to learn all about it.

[Sponsor break from Bombas, Casper and Fracture]

They had fallen in love, and it was something that would change their destiny forever. At least, that’s how the legend tells it. Long ago, a young man lived on a small island surrounded by deep blue seas, and in the process of hunting one day, he encountered a beautiful young woman. But the hunter quickly learned that there was more to her than he could see with his eyes. The woman, it turns out, was a fairy. In fact, she was well known to the locals there, who referred to her as the Dragon Princess. Despite their differences – him, a normal human being, and her, a magical fairy – the two of them fell in love and were soon married, and that helps this tale become on of those happily ever after stories that we all love so much. The couple went on to have twins, a boy and a girl, and just like their parents, they were an odd pair. The boy was just like his father, a human with no magical powers of his own, while the girl took after her mother, and because of that, both parents decided that the children should be raised in separate places to help them fully become who they were meant to be.

According to the legend, it was many years later when the son was out hunting, just as his father had taught him. He was creeping through the forest, his spear balanced in one hand, when he spotted a deer. He quickly threw the weapon, which found its target, and a heartbeat later the young man was carefully making his way over to collect his prize, and that’s when the dragon stepped out of the trees. It was enormous and frightening, and it clearly wanted to take the deer that he had just killed. The young hunter spoke to it, begging it to leave his future meal alone, but the creature ignored him and proceeded to move toward the deer, so he lifted another spear and got ready to take aim at the dragon. Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows of the forest and stopped him. It was his mother, the fairy princess, who he had not seen since his childhood, and as she approached him, she spoke a word of warning. “Do not throw that spear”, she told him, “for that is no ordinary dragon. That is your sister.” Instead, she taught him to live in harmony with his sister, and according to the legend, that fateful meeting set the destiny of their entire community on a new path. Even today, if you were to visit the place where they lived, the people there would tell you that they are descended from dragons, illustrating how that harmony has continued.

And of course, this story is just one of many tales about dragons that fill the pages of folklore. In fact, most of us would be hard pressed to find a creature mentioned more often than those magical beasts, from the 11th century legend of King George and the Dragon to the fantasy novels and television shows of our modern world. They really do seem to be the king of monsters. Dragons are also one of those nearly universal creatures. It seems just about every culture around the world has had some version of them in their folklore. The ancient Egyptian god of chaos was Apophis, represented as a giant serpent. The Babylonians had their own god of chaos called Tiemat, and in Arcadian mythology there were not one but three dragons on display. Norse mythology features a giant serpent who gnaws at the roots of the world tree. In Ukrainian folklore, there is a dragon with three heads, while images of dragons can be found all over medieval heraldry. And of course, few cultures on earth hold as tightly to their dragon mythology as the Chinese, who have been decorating objects with images of the creature at least as far back as the Neolithic period, and we could speculate why, I’m sure. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to see how the accidental discovery of dinosaur bones might spark fear and wonder in the minds of humans thousands of years ago. The places where stories of dragons are most common are also places where such fossils have been uncovered, so it does make sense.

So, when Europeans arrived on an island in the Flores Sea, just south of Indonesia, they probably didn’t think twice about the local stories about dragons. In fact, those tales were probably a bit old hat, as they say. Dragons lived in caves, breathed fire, were vicious killers and could fly when necessary – nothing about all of that was new. What was new, though, were the things they saw there. On an island surrounded by deep, blue sea, an island full of people who believed they were descended from dragons, mind you, they discovered a creature that brought all of their legends to life. It lived in the caves along the shore, it was an enormous killer, and it sometimes even followed its prey up into the trees. It ticked all the boxes. These were 300lb serpent-like monsters that could bring down a half-tonne water buffalo. When they licked the air with their bright red tongue, it looked as if they were spitting fire, and they even dug into the graves of the dead looking for treasure. Of course, that treasure was always food, not gold. And they’re still there, crawling across the sandy beaches of the island, living in harmony, more or less, with the people who still call the place their home. They might not have wings or piles of golden treasure to curl up on, but they are the largest lizard on earth, measuring in at over 10ft in length, and they’re deadly. Sometimes the tales of the past stay shrouded in mystery, and other times we manage to crack the riddle and shed new light on the shadows that once frightened us. This living, flesh and blood dragon seems to offer a fresh answer to an ancient question, however incomplete it might be, but at least we now know that there really is one place in the world where that old cartographer warning is actually true: Here, on Komodo Island at least, there be dragons.

[Closing Statements]

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander. This is a complete work of fiction and as such is an entirely fabricated tale created in my imagination. There may be some suggestive chapters (S) and scenes of a violent (V) and or sexual nature (NC-17) through the course of this story.

*Manip - @sassylover-stuff

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: The two Section One operatives make their way to the fishing village of Aberdeen in search of a particular member of the Rising Dragons’ triad in the hope that he can lead them to the Dragon Head Sun Ye Lok.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jamie surreptitiously studied the alluring woman standing next to him in the elevator who had cheekily waved to a stoic Superintendent Zheng as they’d left his office.  He quietly applauded Claire’s bravado in winning him over this morning as her handling of the hardnosed policeman had been effortless.  Zheng had fallen under her charm since Claire had arrived at police headquarters, while her naturalness had endeared her to her colleagues. She never failed to spread her charisma everywhere it would seem, managing to captivate all kinds of people spontaneously with her compassion. However, it was this very compassion that Section One wanted to crush, but Jamie knew it was such an integral part of who Claire was and why she did the things she did.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ever since she had been recruited to Section One and because he was her trainer, Jamie had been well aware that Claire Beauchamp was different to the other recruits.  She was a young street person falsely accused of murdering a police officer and sentenced to life in prison when recruited. These were the people that Section would give a second chance to if they were willing to live by Section One’s rule.  Claire was one such person and was selected by Section as "material" with potential and given the opportunity to serve society as a warrior against terrorism. The alternative was death.

For two years he had been her trainer and mentor for Section One ... a covert secret government organization that resorted to measures that would be unacceptable for most government organizations ... and they owned her now. Jamie remembered well the first time he had laid eyes on Section’s new recruit Claire Beauchamp.  She was a wilful and stubborn, raw, frightened and beautiful street smart woman who was assigned to him to train. Claire was wary of him and she was terrified of where she was and why she was there in a locked white room.

“Good morning.  I'm not going to hurt you.”

“What is this?” She cast a sideway glance his way obviously not knowing who she was dealing with ... the best of the best at Section One.

“You're not in prison anymore. The world thinks you're dead. Suicide. This is your funeral. Row 8, plot 30,” he replied showing her a picture of a gravestone at the cemetery.

“We've decided to give you another chance. This is where you'll train. This is where you'll learn. After two years, if everything goes well, you'll work for us.”

Her eyes were wide with questions she wanted to know the answer to. “Why me?”

“A woman with your looks, who can kill in cold blood…”

Claire cut off what else he was going to say. She was adamant that her crime was false and that she was innocent. Her words were guttural, pleading and emphasised with vehemence.  “I didn't, I didn't, I didn't kill anyone!”

She lashed out at James Fraser in self defence but was immobilised by his swift action to foil her assault.

“When you attack someone from behind, go for the kidneys. It disables them and they can't fight back.”

“I don't want ... I don't want lessons!”

Claire had been recalcitrant from the get go, but he knew a challenge when he saw one. "Training starts tomorrow at five a.m.”

His voice had been soft ... but threateningly authoritative. Her eyes had searched his face with a bravado he knew she was probably not feeling. “And if I don't want to?”

“Row 8, plot 30,” was his succinct answer which really left her with no options but to do as he said.

James Fraser had soon sized her up and noted that underneath her rebellious facade was a woman with great potential and courage if only she could learn to behave and accept her fate.  Her jaw was set tight, her eyes had blazed with defiance but she didn’t reply but merely nodded ever so slightly. She had chosen to fight.  

For two years she had been his material, he was responsible for her every move in her intensive training to be a Section One operative. Claire Beauchamp had been given a new identity and a codename ... Josephine.  He had groomed her to be a cold-blooded killer, but her humanity always seemed to get in the way. Madeline saw her potential due to her looks and had given her the ultimatum that Section One owned her and if she wanted to live it would be on their terms. She could learn to shoot and fight, but it was her beauty that was her means of gaining an advantage and defending herself in a conflict.  There was no weapon as powerful as her femininity and Madeline had seen to it that Claire’s womanly charms had been honed until she was set a test. Nearing the end of her training Operations had said he’s been monitoring her and found that Claire lacked discipline.  He’d replied stating that she just needed a little more time but his superior had been pragmatic.

“It's been two years Jamie. That's our policy. We start making exceptions, we're no better than the CIA. Cancel her.”

“I think that would be a mistake. I think she could be a good operative.”

“If she fails, you fail.”

Claire Beauchamp had not failed in her first mission and she had saved his life by killing the terrorist but despite her first kill she never did quite fit in.  Her rebellious attitude, however, was tolerated because she got the job done and their leaders were well aware that her methods were many times against all Section One rules.  He knew that Madeline's Mona Lisa smile made her fume and that the steel look in Operation's eyes made her want to disobey every order thrown at her and his face had angered her most of all. When she first came into Section One, he knew that Claire couldn't read him. His face was blank although emotions swam beneath it but out of reach. He scared her and Claire liked to be in control of her destiny. With him though, she already knew she'd have none. Something told her that she wouldn't have control anymore.

She’d rebelled against everyone and everything in Section One and it was hoped that he could rein in her propensity for bucking the system because of who he was ... Section’s leading operative. No one disobeyed him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t disobey his superiors. Claire Beauchamp had changed him in ways he was still coming to terms with.

Oh how things had changed over the two years that they had been partners. Jamie knew that Claire was in love with him but it had taken him a while to get used to how she had wormed her way into his heart. Now he would do anything for her to keep her safe and out of the hands of their manipulative leaders. He could ill afford for her to become his weakness but that is just what Claire Beauchamp had become and Dougal Mackenzie’s words resounded in his head.

“It would be a mistake to become emotionally attached to the material.”

But it was too late for that.  He was already emotionally attached.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The lift eventually came to a stop and once outside the building, they made their way to the parking lot where a car was waiting for them.  Angus Mhor directed them to a gleaming, black, Mercedes coupe compliments of the Hong Kong police department parked in the shade of a tree.  “Nothing but the best it would seem,” Angus stated as he guided them to the impressive car.

“Very nice Angus,” Claire replied as she examined the car.

He looked at Jamie warily, as he handed him the keys to the vehicle. “We have the highest number of Mercedes Benz's per capita in the world … you’ll just look like any other young millionaire in Hong Kong in that little beauty.”

James Fraser just gave him a penetrating look, took the keys and made his way to the driver’s side of the car.

Turning back towards Claire to help her into the vehicle, Angus mumbled quietly under his breath. “Sheesh … doesn’t he ever lighten up?  That guy’s wound up as tight as a spring.”

“What did you say Angus?”

“Ahh!  Nothing important,” he said holding Claire’s door open for her to enter the Mercedes.

“Thank you,” she responded smiling, as she hopped into the passenger seat.

He closed the door after her with a firm hand. “See you when you get back,” Angus replied, then looking at Claire hopefully while leaning on the window frame he added, “You sure you don’t want me to be your driver?”

Impatient to leave, Jamie cast another blank look Angus’s way as his leather-gloved hand turned on the ignition and the car idled.

“Driving in Hong Kong is a nightmare … you saw that on the way here from the airport”.

“We’ll be fine.”

Unremittingly he continued, “The highway system is complex, with clogged roads and devilish parking.”

“Stop it Angus!  You’re incorrigible!”  Claire laughed indulgently.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying?  Can you?”  He winked cheekily.  “Good luck.”

Revving the engine with some irritation to be on their way, Jamie skilfully manoeuvred the car past Angus Mhor when he finally stepped away from Claire’s open window.

“What’s the matter Jamie?”  Claire asked as she glanced at him.

James Fraser merely gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, returning her look with his patent blank stare and concentrated on manoeuvring the Mercedes from the police station car park into the busy morning traffic. His failure to answer her question verbally had itself been her answer.

“Hmm ...  Patented Jamie answer ... the blank stare. I’d swear you were a little jealous… ” she thought happily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Leaving the police station behind them, Jamie and Claire’s destination was the floating city of Aberdeen, the largest satellite town on the southwest side of Hong Kong Island, where the junk obviously originated looking for a proverbial needle in a haystack.

Jamie’s driving expertise was surely tested in the congested traffic on the road leading to their entry point.  A bewildering plethora of buses, narrow double-decker trams and cars clogged the streets as the bustle of people living and working here went about their business. Hong Kong Island, the glitzy big brother of Kowloon was tightly packed with overcrowded housing area and financial centres towering into the skyline … a paean to market capitalism.  Opulence and poverty existed side by side in a country where Chinese culture was assimilated with Colonialism extending back to the Opium War and British sovereignty.

They drove along Causeway Bay heading toward Aberdeen, on the southern side of the island, where six thousand people lived or worked on junks anchored in the harbour.  The day was typical of Hong Kong's temperate climate warm and barmy, and Claire opened her window to let in the breeze as they sped along the motorway.  The air whipped her tresses around her face but Claire didn’t care.  She felt free although at the back of her mind the mission was still paramount in her head.

Travelling in relative silence along the motorway, each was lost in thoughts of the other.

The atmosphere in the car was relaxed for Section One’s two operatives. Driving along it was so simple for Jamie and Claire to feel that they were two people on an adventurous holiday seeking out exotic locations, just like any other normal couple.  Claire casually glanced over at Jamie wishing that last night had ended differently, but knowing that they would have other opportunities to be together.  She smiled as if the cat had just swallowed the canary.  Yes, she was sure there would be another time and another place and … besides she still had to show Jamie the view from her apartment.  Pensively, Claire looked out of the window lost in thought.

James Fraser cast a look Claire’s way with similar thoughts running through his mind also. He saw her self-satisfied smile, as nothing about her moods escaped him. Last night had been so similar to other times when they had been interrupted. They had only just begun to get started when … wham!  Jamie could see the funny side of it however, and a small wry smile crossed his lips at the thought that Fergus Claudel was not  the only one who could dampen the mood.    

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Turning his eyes back to the road, Jamie manoeuvred the Mercedes through the busy, Hong Kong Island traffic.  Eventually he entered Hardcourt Road and headed toward the entrance to Aberdeen Tunnel on the Wan Chai Side.  Angus had said that the traffic was a nightmare and how true were his words. Cars and vehicles of all shapes and sizes clogged the roads.  The motorway was packed but Jamie placed the car in auto drive and settled in for the long haul to Aberdeen.  Along the way they passed through many residential and business districts but the steady stream of traffic seemed to follow them with no sight of it petering out.

After some time Claire saw the exit for Aberdeen and Jamie veered the car to the Wang Chuk Hang Side of the Aberdeen Tunnel, knowing that soon as they arrived in Aberdeen they would be looking for a package that would lead them to  Sun Yee Lok and thus bring down the Rising Dragons’ triad.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jamie steered the Mercedes along the winding coastal road closer to Aberdeen, known as Little Fragrant Harbour, in the south west of Hong Kong Island. Following the stretch of water as far as the eye could see was invigorating for them and the sea breeze wafted through the open windows of the Mercedes. As they neared Aberdeen Harbour, the sight before them was certainly an eye opener for hundreds of junks and sampans, the floating homes for thousands of people, bobbed into sight in the distance. They were crowded into the narrow harbour dramatically juxtaposed against the modern high-rise buildings that spread up in the nearby hillsides. It was amazing to see these unique junks floating against the backdrop of skyscrapers … a blend of the old with the new.

Aberdeen Harbour was breathtaking especially in the early morning sun. Once a pirates den nearly two centuries ago Aberdeen had turned into a simple fishing village port nestled in its typhoon shelter of the calm waters of the harbour. Despite modernization traditional fishing life still prevailed, and the unique fishing vessels served as boat workplaces and home to many Chinese, just as the junks and sampans had been used as homes for thousands of years before.

It was easy for Jamie and Claire to see how Triads like the Rising Dragons reigned in such a setting. The uncomplicated lifestyle of the people coupled with the dominance and intimidation of such groups would be rampant amongst these simple fishing folk whose traditional way of life was still an integral characteristic of harbour life and activity. Consequently they had no means to thwart the criminal undertakings of such a powerful organisation. The boats would leave port for weeks at a time fishing the South China Sea and then return to Aberdeen for safe harbour from the weather, only to experience turbulence in form of intimidation by extortion racketeers.

Finding the origin of the fated junk that held the secrets of Annalise de Marillac and Chen Wu’s death and the connection to the Rising Dragons may prove to be more difficult than they first thought for Aberdeen was the location of a plethora of floating junks in a sea of vessels … and where would they start to look?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As they neared their destination, the mood in the car changed noticeably as each realised that the mission was now in play. Jamie and Claire also knew their brief taste of an ordinary life had just changed. Although they were away from the visual surveillance of Section One, they were not a normal couple on holiday and they were never far enough away for total freedom. At any given time they could and would be reminded that they were two people doing a job, nothing more, nothing less with set parameters and objectives.

The lively sound of Fergus’ voice echoing in their comm. units soon brought them back to their reality with a thud.

“Jamie?”

Where they were and their prime objective … the mission target … was all they were here for. Both looked at the other with a tinge of regret. Reluctantly returning his eyes to the road Jamie replied, “Yes Fergus?”

“There was an explosion on the south wharf yesterday morning. A fishing vessel was blown out of the water.”

“And …?”

“It’s unlikely that it was a boating accident. Whoever was responsible was making a point to one of his customers.”

“Was it the target?”

“It’s highly likely that it was Tony Wong.”

“His target?”

“A man called Charlie Yin. He could be a point of reference.”

“Do you have a location?”

“His boat is situated near the entrance of the wharf … but he will be moving out again within the hour.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay.”

Claire looked over to Jamie with a questioning look on her face at what the techie had just told them, “I'm a little confused.”

“About what?”

“This Charlie Yin. Is he going to lead us to Wong?”

“Yes.”

“But … can we trust this guy?

“We need to trust him enough.”

“Enough to relay Intel about Tony Wong?”

“Yes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They proceeded a few kilometres further until they saw the entrance to the Aberdeen wharf. Jamie parked the car and got out ever watchful for any anomaly. Claire did the same, then both of them perused the perimeter of the wharf looking for anything suspicious. Reflected in the sunglasses covering their eyes was the awesome setting before them. They could see what appeared to be thousands of dilapidated boats carpeted in Aberdeen Harbour … and they all looked alike. Not only were there junks but the imposing Floating Restaurants came into view as well. It was abuzz with traffic coming and going as the ubiquitous boat people that lived on the vessels made their way toward the dock in a variety of watercrafts. In a hurry scurry of jostling vessels each craft vied to find any remaining best advantage points along the wharf to off load their morning’s catch.

“Fergus we’re here.”

“Good. … Proceed.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued

Thank you for reading, the likes and or posting a comment on my crossover story.  I very much appreciate your feedback. xox

Should you wish to access the other chapters of this story … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations