#Multi-Location Backups

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 9

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: sorry this took so long, but i hope y'all enjoy! Can't wait to hear what you think of it 💕

-🐺-

As soon as the chinook touched down, you awakened to scorching Mexican heat and an achingly dry mouth. The hot air left you clacking your tongue in disgust at the tacky taste of sleep, but lucky for you Price was ready with a bottle of water. Barely seconds after downing half of it like a floundering fish, you were hauling yourself out with Gaz. 

You didn’t get very long to look around once out. After taking a precautionary glance around the military base and scoping the dusty buildings, the three of you were soon greeted by a tall smiling man with his arms folded. Meanwhile his stocky, straight faced hybrid companion hung back to his right. You could feel his unshifting gaze on you the moment you’d stepped out the helicopter. 

It was a surprise, afterall it’d been so long since you’d worked with another of your kind. He was a wolf just like you, but his ears were a soft bark like brown and his tail swished straight down the way, perfect and unbroken despite his field of work. When you flicked your eyes back to his you could see him looking you up and down with the same assessing stare. 

“Good to see you again, Captain. Garrick.” The tall man said, beaming at Price and nodding to Gaz before he then tilted his head at you. “And you brought backup, I see.”

“Not backup, Ale. This is Pup - 141’s newest recruit,” Price said, putting a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Pup, this is Colonel Alejandro Vargas and his hybrid partner Rodolfo Parra.”

“Rudy must’ve made quite the impression last time we worked together, eh?” Alejandro said, patting Rodolfo's Shoulder in turn. 

‘Rudy’ raised his eyebrows at that. Clearly he hadn’t expected to have had much of an influence on Price’s new hybrid, but now he was looking somewhat embarrassed at that inadvertent praise. His tail tucked into his leg revealing some of the ombré streak of tan that ran through the back of it and his ears settled low to his head. 

“Well he, more than any other hybrid before, certainly showed me there’s a lot of merit in having a multi-species team,” Price shrugged. “Pup was the one to convince us, took em out on a mission and Pup was solid.”

“Is that so? I look forward to working with you then, Pup,” Alejandro said, directing an easy smile in your direction. “Are you all ready to head to the target location? I can finish briefing you all in the ride over.”

“Yeah, best get on with it,” Price nodded. 

With that, you all walked round to the head of the massive jeep convoy and loaded yourselves in. 

Even after being told it was legit, there was a part of you that had been deeply suspicious that Price had made up a goose chase just to get you out of the kennels all the way up until the ride in the jeep. A little ghost of warmth had filled you at the idea your Captain cared so much. Even when he’d dispelled that once he’d gotten to talking about strategy with Alejandro, you couldn’t help but feel he’d taken you when he might not have in any other situation. Especially when it was likely you’d be forced into all out assault against heavy fire. Some might’ve resented that, but you could only shift around in anticipation, tail wagging around like a cat toy. 

You were all going to be storming through the forest and taking down a cartel in hopes of finding a connection that had another connection through which you’d find the arms dealers that the 141 had been tasked with taking down. Not complicated at all. Well, Alejandro and Price’s explanation was somewhat complicated, you’d almost gone cross eyed trying to follow all the names, but Gaz was kind enough to whisper in your ear and fill you in on the local groups that they were discussing. 

The whole time Rudy watched you out of the corner of his eye. You could see them practically cutting through the mirror. The way he seemed to frown, you could only assume he had some kind of a problem or was at least wary with you. However he didn’t voice any concerns. Merely kept his ears folded downward in obvious discontent. 

-🐺-

“Pup, what the fuck did I tell you? Stay close!” 

Within no time, the forest was like an impressionist painting. Streaks of dark spots dotted themselves in amongst the twisty trees and blended through the foliage before firing and lighting up their spots, forcing themselves to shift once more. 

To the humans you were with, it would be utter chaos. To you and Rudy, it was all background distraction. You could smell the people, you didn’t have to look for them. Even despite the ear protection you wore, you could still hear their shifting feet clumsily beating through the brush.

And so the two of you found yourselves standing over a body, mouths covered in blood, yours plastered with a smirk while he took to a coy smile. The man had been about to take a shot, aiming for either your boys or Alejandro. Though before he could fire he was interrupted by Rudy yanking the gun back and then you diving onto him, rendering the idiot gravely wounded until Rudy delivered a final blow. 

“We make a good team,” you said, cocking your head and listening out for more movements. 

Rudy snorted and turned away. 

“Maybe…but there’s still more work to do.”

When he stalked off you couldn’t help but frown, but ultimately you followed, there wasn’t the time to contemplate why he was so standoffish. There would be plenty of time for that when you and your team weren’t being hunted like an infestation. Not to mention Price was screaming in your ear about checking in and to report your condition. 

“Still operational, Captain,” you muttered. “Making my way back to you.” 

With that you were racing through the trees, eyes fuzzy and losing themselves in the darkness. Your instincts were sharply rising to the surface, the wolf within growing stronger every passing second. It felt like your veins were pumping hot lava. 

There were three men that crossed you on your way back to Price. The first fell to the floor and gurgled before he could even think about lining up a shot for you, the second fought bravely and managed to graze your arm with a bullet and bruise your neck a little in an effort to pull you off. The third had seemingly popped out of nowhere, he had to have been camped in his position like a sand snake. The sneaky bastard was about to land a bullseye, the barrel of his weapon practically kissed your temple. You thought you’d only had enough time to squeeze your eyes shut and draw back your ears.

Lucky for you though, Gaz shot first. 

“Were you listening when Price asked you to be careful, Pup?”

“Course I was. Don’t think that guy was though,” you grinned. 

“Bloody hybrids,” Price grunted through the comms. “You two on me. Now!”

Both you and Gaz joined Price once more and continued on your tear through the forest. More than once you ran into Rudy, but by that point you were too lost in the work to really take note. Blood had sponged into your clothes and dripped off your chin, your muscles were bunched with tension and your pupils felt wide as the moon. That primal side of you was fully present and awake and it had its claws caught so deep, there was a small part of you that worried about being stuck feral. 

All notion of that disappeared when Price commanded you to stop. His hand wound tight in your collar and suddenly your legs lost their momentum. You peered up at him wide eyed and out of breath, soon looking out of the corners of your eyes and searching for hidden dangers. You only made eye contact once you knew for certain you’d both be safe. 

“Easy, Pup,” he said soothingly, running a rough hand over your ears in gentle waves. “Easy. That’s it.”

“Why’ve we stopped?” You rasped, so high pitched it could almost have been a whine. 

“The compound is up ahead. We want you and Rudy with us. Can you follow my commands? Are you ready to go in?”

Price gestured at Alejandro and Rudy who were standing just off to the side of you. Rudy’s chest was rising and falling like a beating drum, but other than that, he looked composed and ready to strike. In comparison you felt like something of a tornado. 

For a few seconds you closed your eyes and breathed, slowly gaining awareness of your own thudding heart and the way the air tickled at the hollows of your ears. 1…2…1…2. You imagined Ghost’s deep rumble telling you to come back to yourself. Instantly your awareness sharpened. You could make out the faded scent of cigars that wafted through every fibre of Price’s being, and in that moment there was no greater comfort than something that had become so fmailliar. 

“Yeah…Ready, Captain,” you said with a gulp. 

Price nodded back at you and then to each member of your small group. Before long you were lead to the front of the treeline, staring at a big concrete eye sore that hid just below the tops of the great Cypruses so that it might stay hidden from the sky. There were a few slitted windows, one small doorway, plenty of opportunity for anyone that might try to get a lucky shot in. You couldn’t help but notice that the whole thing looked like a creature grimacing in pain. 

Alejandro clicked his tongue, then began to speak. 

“Ok, listen up. There’s only one entryway into this thing, so we’re going to need to manoeuvre round and then run like hell and take out whoever we can from the outside before it turns into a death funnel. It’s gonna be armed to the teeth once we’re inside, so we need to be fast and we need to spread out,” Alejandro said, his voice low while his eyes roamed the building. “Gaz and I want you up front with me so we can take shots inside while Price holds up the rear. Then, when it’s safe enough, we’ll send in the wolves to stir up a little carnage. I want you two to team up and take down who you can, overwhelm them and keep them panicked enough that they can’t get a shot on either of you.”

Gaz clenched his jaw as soon as it was mentioned that you’d be going in first. He shot a sharp look over at Price, but your Captain wasn’t giving anything away. You yanked your head around from where he was holding your collar and looked at him, trying to evaluate how he felt about that plan of attack. He was stoic as ever. 

“Let’s do it,” he said eventually, breathing deeply as if to punctuate his decision. 

He didn’t look in any mood to argue. Gaz probably evaluated things that way too because he didn’t say anything, but that didn’t stop him from giving a small nod of his head and keeping his eyes glued to you. It was as if he was saying that he’d be just behind you no matter what he was commanded anyway. 

You offered him a reassuring smile, or something like that as your lip didn’t quite fully curl. Your body was too busy preparing itself for attack, letting go of functions that didn’t facilitate your immediate survival. Your vision darkened by the second, but before your instincts burst fully to the forefront of your mind you couldn’t help but catch a little movement in the corner of your eyes. 

Alejandro wrapped a hand round the back of Rudy’s neck and pulled him close, touching his forehead to his hybrid’s. His lips moved quickly, he said something that sounded Spanish and then…kissed Rudy’s temple. Then just as quickly as he’d swooped in for a peck, he moved away again. Gaz and Price were too busy looking at you, they didn’t catch it, but they did catch your frown. 

“Alright, Pup?” Gaz asked, quickly picking up on your change of expression. “You alright with the plan?”

You blinked up at him. It took a little while until you mustered up the wherewithal to shake your head. The movement slowed as if it were moving through molasses 

“No, I’m fine with it Gaz,” you shrugged. “I infiltrate first most of the time anyway. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll worry anyway,” he said, flicking your ear from just over your helmet. “Don’t want anything to happen to my new favourite.”

You shook your head, but rather than let loose the grin that threatened to spill over your lips, you let the comment fuel you. That and Rudy and Alejandro’s little moment could wait till later. At that moment everything was about the building in front of you and the protection of your hard earned team. You wouldn’t let them down. For once you were happy to act as both the battering ram and shield, knowing you’d fight any man that threatened to take your men from you. 

Once Ale gave the go ahead, everything seemed to happen in double time. You, Price and Rudy took up the rear, running ahead through the panic with snarling jaws and weapons Primed. Price shot behind you all at any stragglers from the woods while you and Rudy moved to position yourselves for the door. A renewed fire lit your veins, and when you looked over you could see that Rudy looked much like you felt, his face focused and irises wide as cannonballs. 

As soon as Alejandro cried ‘go’ you were both let loose. Rudy flew high and you went low, both taking out the two men that filled the hallway like pillars. Your man screamed bloody murder when his femur was torn into and then squeaked when his genitals were shredded loose from his body. Rudy’s man didn’t have the chance to scream, his throat was torn out and slapped against the walls with a wet sound. 

The next few men were dispatched in equally gory fashion, blood spattered fourth and covered you both anew, your mouth fizzed with the taste of iron and tattered fabric. Saliva and plasma foamed down your chin, each new bite like a mouthful of unset jelly. It was that feeling that had your instincts invading, the battle in front of you fading as it blended into all the ones that came before it. 

-🐺-

“So you’re actually useful for something then! What a good mutt. We finally made a killer out of you, didn’t we? Can send you off to do some real work.”

The face in front of you tortured you like nothing else. That fucking tirelessly smug look, that scar that marred him seemed to deepen that unbearable smile, it stretched tight over his lips. He loomed just out of reach, no matter how hard you fought against the chain, you could never touch him. Could never reach no matter what you tried.  

“You just saved me a bullet, you vicious little bitch… I’ll let you into a secret too since you passed your test so spectacularly - It wouldn’t have been for him. Could’ve used him for the next dog after all.”

The body below you was cooling now. The man’s blood at your hands and feet only made you long all the more for Maddox’s, but there was no way he’d be stupid enough to allow you loose when so feral. Instead he took great joy in watching you choke yourself just for the chance of even laying a scratch on him, chuckling everytime you gagged.

-🐺-

“Pup! Behind!”

You squealed, clawing at the air as you were quite literally dragged back into the present. Someone was forcing you from your latest quarry, the man was still screaming and flailing around like a kicked puppy, throwing himself around with all the grace of a chew toy. The strangers’s hands brought you back and twisted you around to meet his gun, the burning scent of its barrel stinging your nostrils. Though before the metal could reach your head, you flung it upward with your fist. The noise of the shot ground into your ears like iron shavings, competing with your knuckles in a blindingly throbbing battle. 

Even with the generous ear protection you were given, you were still left reeling. Made dizzy and sent wobbling off to the wall by your left. The gun was lining up with you slowly, the man clearly affected by that same misfire. It was a race for both your lives. You pushed off the crumbling wall and threw yourself to his feet in a last ditch attempt to win. 

Another shot rang out. Your vision went black. Your body felt as if it had been buried at the bottom of an explosion, your lungs and back ached with pressure. A few more shots whizzed through the air, the individual pops were your only company through the darkness. That and a low rumbly voice that felt as if it were vibrating through your rattling skull. You're my good Pup, it said, I knew you had to be mine.

“Pup! Pup!”

Light flooded your eyes and the unforgiving weight on your back alleviated all at once. You were rolled around to meet wide brown eyes that searched over you in a wide sweeping motion. Gaz. He finished tossing the body that had lain on top of you and came to kneel directly in front of you so that he could get a better look. 

“Still breathing, Cap!” he shouted, his voice deliberately carrying past where you were lying. 

You flicked your eyes to the hallway beyond and noticed Price dragging someone into a room after acknowledging you both with a grunt and a quick glance. You didn’t recognise the man he was flinging through the doorway, but you could only assume it was the target. 

“I told you not to worry,” you groaned.

Gaz didn’t look the least bit amused. Neither did you after he hauled you up into his lap. You grimaced, hands instinctively flying to your side where pain had begun to radiate like a blooming lotus. The petals of that pain unfurled slowly, sending your breathing haywire. Fuck, did it hurt. It sent you cursing like a sailor. 

“Did that cunt actually shoot me?” You seethed, not willing to look down while you were trying to focus on breathing. 

“Fucking lucky that one didn’t. That one you were attacking first got you in the vest from further away before his friend fell on you. I got em’ both.”

“Ah…Makes sense that I’m not pink mist then. Thanks for that.”

Gaz turned you around, just so he could narrow his eyes at you. You could only tilt your head back, wondering why he was so perturbed. He didn’t look angry per se, it was like he wasn’t sure what to feel. His brows were heavy over his darkened eyes and his jaw ticked over as he tried to form words. You’d never seem him like that before.

“What happened to you?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?” 

“Your eyes were pitch black, I’ve never seen you that far gone before. It was like you were possessed or something. Freaked me the fuck out.” He said, shaking his head. “So what happened?”

Had it been someone you hadn’t known you’d have told them to shove it. The rebuke was building on your tongue, practically clawing to come out. Though the concern on Gaz’s face stopped you from doing anything of the sort. You softened your gaze and looked off to his left, focusing on a tattered piece of wall and the ghost of a smile the bullet marks created. 

“Training took over. Maddox…he always…,” you stared so hard your vision doubled, the blurry face grinning back twice as much before you refocused on Gaz. “The wolf in me took the lead. I did my job and they went for me and not any of you. All that matters is you’re fine, Gaz.”

Gaz didn’t say anything to that. He continued to frown, and thought on it for a minute, staring down at the spot where the centre of your pain radiated outward. You began to wonder if it was pulsing visibly just as much as it was physically. However impossible that was. Just as he looked like he might have formed a response his chance to talk was taken from him. 

“Gaz, how’s Pup? Broken?” 

Price’s voice was all grit, he filled the silence like a sledgehammer. Gaz called back that you were going to be fine, just bruised and after another grunt of affirmation he was called to come assist in securing the asset. Alejandro sent Rudy to go watch over you. Gaz gave you a look that said he’d be talking to you later while he switched with Rudy, disappearing into the room and taking his palpable silence with him. 

Rudy didn’t show any of that same blinding concern once he reached you. If anything he looked like he might be bored, but you couldn’t tell with his face. He had a knack for appearing neutral, if not a bit startled at times. Looking so shifty as his ears flicked about, clearly not trusting that the base would stay conquered. 

“You’re still alive. Good for you,” he said at last, choosing a spot just in front of you to lean against. 

You snorted. His ears twitched irritably at the sound. 

“What? You disappointed?”

“No, just surprised,” he said simply.

You frowned back at him, but before you could bother to ask why, he elaborated. 

“They break all you British hybrids so bad, its like none of you even want to try staying alive.”

“What? They train you so much better over here do they? I never realised Mexico was such a paradise,” you said back, sneering over at him. “It’s no wonder your ears and tail aren’t even marked if you’re standing there looking down on me for the way i fight.”

Having said that, you were waiting for the fight to break out that normally would’ve happened with any of the bastards from your last base. All of you were raised on a hair trigger. Left to your own vengeance, so long as you didn’t cause any grievous wounds that stopped you working.

With that in mind you made a show of visibly switching off your comms, confident now that the fighting with the cartel was behind you that you could settle things in private. Rudy didn’t even bat an eye however, he tilted his head at you, but eventually did the same. Neither of you needed to disrupt the others with your bickering.  

“You think that your broken tail makes you a better soldier than me?”

There wasn’t a good response for that. If he’d engaged in your petty little fight, you might’ve said yes, but he was as calm as if he and you were sat waiting in a briefing room. As you tried to find a retort your ears flicked nervously around your head, dancing between being upright and flattened before they settled on pinning ever so slightly backwards. 

“Shows that I must be doing a good job staying alive if I’m still here despite it.”

He smiled at that, pursing his lips soon after. 

“Sure…I’ll let you have that. They call you ‘Pup’ for a reason I suppose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you growled.

“Mean’s that you sulk just the same as one.”

You lunged for him and quickly regretted it when your ribs sent a stab of pain that tremoured through your whole body. Even while you did everything in your power not to make a noise, you were helpless in letting a small whine escape your throat. 

“Sound like one too. You should take it easy, you’ll have plenty time to get me back once you recover from that.”

You flipped him off in place of being able to take a swipe at him. Your breathing was getting ragged, so deep and frayed that you eventually committed to ripping your vest off and getting a look at your wound. Your arms burned with the effort it took, but the thing parted from you with a thunk and suddenly your body really let you know just how much you’d wrecked it. Traitorous thing, proving Rudy right. 

When your eyes landed on the island shaped bruise at your side, it took everything not to wretch. The thing was already a hundred different shades, looking ugly and dark and just as sore as it felt. Your eyes grew wet and you soon forgot all about the one sided argument you were having and closed them, begging yourself not to cry so that you could reserve the last scrap of your dignity. 

“That looks bad…Woah!”

You hadn’t realised, but in a fit of dizziness you’d begun to slide down the wall. Rudy stopped you from collapsing into a heap right at the last second. For second all you felt was air and then his cool hands on your skin. Not long after his peppery scent flooded through you, forcing you to stay in the room. He propped you up on his side and kept an arm curled against you, gripping onto your hip. 

“You good?” He asked, intense eyes flicking all over your face. 

They were like molten copper. He disarmed you instantly, chasing the rest of the fight out of your failing body. Even if you had been primed to start a boxing match only moments before you’d resolved to let him have his sense of superiority while you focused on staying upright.

Well, almost. 

“You just this touchy with everyone, yeah?” you asked, trying to distract him from how pathetic you’d turned. 

It was finally his turn to look confused.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, ears flicking around. 

“I saw you two lovebirds before we attacked,” you grinned, soon grimacing when you took a particularly hard breath. “Does he always give you a good luck kiss?”

Rudy looked like he wanted to throw you off of him, but by sheer goodness of his own heart prevented his hand from doing so. It didn’t stop his fingers gripping your hip tighter, his claws luckily grazing your good side. He stopped himself when he caught your wince.

“Don’t talk shit.”

“I’m not judging.”

“Sounds like you are,” he snorted. 

“If anything I’m jealous.”

That was supposed to be a joke. However your tone didn’t convey that. So for a second you were left blinking over at each other until Rudy clenched his jaw. His iron patience was wearing thin, the pickaxe that you were taking to it was apparently breaking through. All from that comment. It was then that you realised whatever he had with the colonel was more than just a little over affection. 

“Really? You want Ale?”

You gasped in shock, clutching your side and barking out in laughter. 

“Oh shit, no,” you cackled.

“Who then?”

“My handler obviously…apparently. Fuck me, how did we even get to talking about this?” you sighed, settling back against the wall. 

Rudy looked more relaxed now and he loosened his hold on your frame, his tongue lashed out against his lips and that gentle smile returned to his face.

“You got us onto the subject I believe. Which of them is your handler? Garrick?”

“Desperate to gossip now?” You asked, trying to let the subject die. 

Rudy wasn’t having that though. He was like a cat with a mouse, easily batting you between his big paws.

“It’s Garrick isn’t it? You were looking…moon eyed is the expression isn’t it?”

“I do not have moon eyes for anyone!” you groaned, knocking him with your shoulder and hurting him about as much as you did yourself. “Besides, I belong to Ghost not Gaz.”

Rudy’s eyebrows shot up so high you were almost sent into a new laughing fit imagining them coming clean off. He shook his head, eyebrows still firmly attached. The absurdity of the whole situation didn’t escape you. After being in a gunfight that almost ended your life, it seemed unlikely that you’d be stuck gossiping with your fellow hybrid afterward while there was a man most likely being beaten for information in the other room.

“Ghost?” he choked out. “No mames! That’s not someone you want a kiss from. He’d give you the kiss of death.”

“Maybe on you. He’s really quite sweet with me,” you grinned, “Reckon he’d give me a big peck on the head as well, just like Ale does with you.”

“Ghost. Sweet?”

“He is. We were having a romantic morning cuddling in bed just the other day,” you said faux wistfully. “Trading stories, sharing scents.”

“Ah, so that’s the nice British way of saying that you fuck. I’ll have to keep that in mind when Alejandro and I trade scents.”

It was your turn to risk losing your eyebrows to the sky. In fact you were so taken aback that your mouth went dry. Sure it wasn’t like you were a virgin, but you had thought it was rare that hybrids and humans had sex, nevermind navigated complicated handler relationships while doing the act. In fact that very idea opened up new avenues in your mind, sparked a little inkling of opportunity you hadn’t really consciously considered much before. 

“You and Alejandro are…together?”

You’d expected him to laugh or look offended or look panicked or something, but now that you two had found some kind of messed up common ground he didn’t give much away. He tilted his head at you and smiled indulgently. 

“Oh, so you weren’t just playing coy? Poor little Pup.”

“Poor little Pup nothing,” you said petulantly, folding your arms and willing the conversation away. “I’m a professional, I don’t shag my superiors.”

“It sounds like you’d like to though,” he chuckled, looking delighted with himself. “I’m right, am I not?”

“No,” you said squeaked out, body raising a hundred degrees just at the thought. 

All sorts of images flooded your mind. Ghost lying next to you just like he had been when he’d whisked you into his bed. Ghost dripping and wet from the rain, carrying you close to him, so close to him you could practically smell him through the mental haze. Ghost holding you against a wall while you trained, keeping you at bay while you waited to attack your fake target. Ghost’s unyielding grip on your collar. Relax Pup, I’ve got you. Thats it, keep it steady. 

“Oh well that’s definitely the face of someone that’s telling the truth,” he remarked slyly. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you huffed, shaking at the realisation that maybe that wasn’t even the first time that you’d considered being open to the idea of something else with Ghost…  

“I don’t have to. Maybe you can use that death wish of yours to ask for the same.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you groaned, now just trying to focus on staying upright.

“Alright then,” Rudy said, still smiling into the middle distance. “You’re the one that started talking shit anyway.”

“No don’t you start that shit, you’re the one-”

“You two!” Price barked.

Both your heads whipped around to the now open doorway where Ale and Gaz were busy dragging a hooded man while your Captain oversaw the whole thing. His face was grave and drawn, he looked battle worn and weary, but even beneath the layers of grime and awful mood you could see that his resolve stayed well intact. 

“Captain,” you said quietly, feeling like you had to acknowledge him in some way. 

Rudy said nothing, but gave a nod.

“We have a team coming out to meet us and escort this one back to Los Vaqueros’s base. Rudy, stay with Gaz and Ale. Pup, can you stand?”

You bit your lip, knowing how much your next movement would hurt, but sucking it up despite yourself. With a growl, you braced your hands beneath you and then clawed your way up the wall, coming to a shaky stand until you were all the way upright - almost all the way upright. Your hip kept you wonky on your feet, but otherwise you were able to stay in place. 

You shot him a shaky thumbs up. 

“Good. I’ll help you to evac. Once we get to base, you and me are going to have a talk.”

If your spirits hadn’t been thoroughly pissed on by that point, they were then. Your ears drooped low and you nodded slowly waiting at the wall like a naughty child until he was ready to prop you against his shoulder. 

Your thoughts raced at the possibilities of all he could want to talk about. So much had happened to you in such a short space of time, it felt like your mind was a skipping DVD. Scenes of carnage melded with the two officers in the hallway, both rooms melting together while flashing to Ghost, Price, Soap and Gaz training with you. All your team warred for for time with all your enemies, all the fighting you had done up to that point mingled with scenes from training hangars, bars with pool games and soft blue sheets draped over Ghost’s sprawling body. 

It was going to be a long ride back.

-🐺-

“You decent?”

You looked down at the puddle of water below your tail with unfocused eyes, the blurry edges of the water seemed to morph and change colours with the flickering lights above you. Shifting between pink, yellow and white. It had taken a while to get most of the blood out. Most being the operative word. Your uniform was hurled into the corner, too far gone to be worth washing or doing anything to save. Price had told you to chuck it once you were changed into the new clothes he’d pulled from your kit. 

“Yeah, I’m changed,” you finally answered back. 

You were a little soggy, but still you had changed and you were clean and your hair had been tended to first after getting your jogging bottoms and T-shirt on. All that was left was to finish brushing out your tail, your secret weapon against whatever words were about to come your way. From the way Price had been speaking to you, you could tell he wasn’t very happy. Brushing out the snarls from your fur would give you an excuse not to look at him. 

You were just starting to comb out the tip of the silvery fur when Price walked in, boots heavy against the tile. He filled the doorway like a barricade. 

“Come on,” he sighed, his voice even heavier now that he was so close to sleep. “Go sit on a bed, I need to get off my feet.”

“My tail’s still wet, I need to brush it out and dry it,” you said quickly, hoping that you weren’t giving him reason to be more annoyed.

“Fling a towel down. Whatever bed you sit on, I’ll take. Gaz can have the other one.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn’t dare question him further. Truth be told, when you’d been pushed toward the room and through the bathroom, you hadn’t thought much about what the bunking situation would be, but now that you were cognizant of the situation, it dawned on you that there was two twin beds beds out there and three soldiers to fill them. So you must be on the floor then. 

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. You took a dry towel and spread it out over the bed on the left hand side of the simple room, and taking a proper look around. There were two twin sized beds at the back of the room, a plain wooden dresser next to the doorway at the front, and of course the bathroom that you’d come out of to the left with a mirror stuck to the back of it. The walls were stark white, but thankfully there was a small window in the middle of the two beds, giving the room a little relief from the stark paint and yellow lighting. 

You jumped when Price came to sit next to you, avoiding touching the already wet towel, but sitting close enough you were dipping into him. It took a little adjusting so that you wouldn’t lean into him, but once you both got comfortable, you were soon left staring. Looking into the hard blue gaze that met yours like a set of angry headlights. 

“Gaz told me what you said.”

“W-what?” you whimpered, wondering what it was that he was referring to.

Had he heard your conversation with Rudy? You were so sure that door was closed. So sure that you could barely hear their mutterings in there. 

“He said that you told him you ‘did your job’. Do you know how many times we called out to you to come to heel, Pup?”

“I…No. No, Sir.”

“I asked you three times. Gaz asked you once before he had to take out the men that were on you. You did not ‘do your job’. You rushed ahead like a half crazed coyote and almost got yourself killed. And then what? What would I have told Ghost, hm?” Price growled, his breaths coming out fast and uneven. 

Your wet tail curled around you, scraggly strands drawing close to what little warmth was still in your body. It felt like you were growing colder by the second, frozen in Price’s icy stare. Your chest pumped feebly in order to keep your blood flow moving, though the way you were shaking you couldn’t be sure everything was working as it should. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you murmured, your whole body curling in on itself like a slinky. 

“I’m sorry doesn’t cut it. I told you when you started with us that I don’t want you taking risks that threaten your life. You’re not disposable to my team, not to me, not to Gaz or Soap, and especially not to Ghost. You don’t ever get to a point where you start blacking out and rampaging out of control like that again. You hear me? Never.”

The breath from your body felt as if it had been robbed from you. Every little gear in your mind ground to a halt and suddenly all the possibilities of what might happen next were spread out in front of you, playing in tandem and haunting you with the awful consequences of your actions. Would Price punish you? Remove you from the team? Send you away? Take you back to Branhaven. 

“Look at me, Pup.”

You looked up immediately as if controlled by him. Everything in you was now coded to answer to his every call and do everything he said while you still could. All instincts pointed to serving him well before he made any decision to get rid of you. To try and preserve yourself now that the fighting was done. You could see your own dark reflection staring back at you in his pupils, the wilting frame of your body frozen there in the inky blackness.

“We gave you this collar because we knew you’re a great soldier and because we knew how well you’d work with our team and because we wanted to make you ours. This collar means you’re 141 for life,” Price said, tugging on it for good measure. “Don’t sit there looking sorry for yourself like I’m gonna send you packing or treat you like your old superiors would’ve. I’d have hoped that you knew me better by now. C’mere, you little sod.”

You didn’t get much of a chance to react. Price drew you into his arms and perched his head on yours, fanning your ears with his hot breath. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his hard frame and covering him with a soft outer layer of hybrid. Cigar smoke, bullet oil and musk be damned, his warmth and his scent felt heavenly on your senses. 

“What are we gonna do with you, ay? Bloody troublemaker.”

“I don’t mean to be,” you sniffed.

“Course you don’t. That’s why I’ve got a fitting punishment to get those tendencies in check.”

“Punishment?” you asked, stiffening in his arms. 

He drew back from you and nodded his head, not giving much away. He’d already told you he wasn’t going to treat you like your old superiors, but that didn’t do much to put you at ease. Just because you weren’t going to get a whipping, didn’t mean you were out of the woods. You had no idea what he had planned, searching his face dug up nothing. 

“Was on the phone to Ghost before I came to talk to you. We both agreed to set you up with a therapist. You’re getting a minimum of ten sessions booked in to start, and then after five we’re going to evaluate how many more you might need.”

You gawped at him, face going from a picture of worry and to one of indignant shock. A bloody therapist? That was his and Ghost’s big idea of a punishment? At that point you wondered if you might rather have one of your old punishments. What the hell were you going to say to a therapist? What were they going to say to you? Oh sorry your family abandoned you and left you to the proverbial wolves, maybe you’ll feel better if you talk about it. 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I don’t know what a therapist is going to-”

“Don’t ‘sorry, Sir’ me and don’t you think for a second that you know better. You’re going and that’s final,” he said, tone so sharp that it cut off any room for argument. 

You gulped and suddenly were reminded of your place. Of your character. You were supposed to be meek and trying to grovel for forgiveness. All things considered, a few sessions of pretending to make emotional breakthroughs would probably be one of the easier challenges you’d have faced in your lifetime. 

“Ok…um…Sorry, Sir.”

“I think that’s enough sorries out of you, Pup,” he grumbled, ruffling his hands over your ears. “I think we’ve established how sorry you are. You can make it up to me by sorting your tail out and picking a bunkmate. Gaz is gonna come by with some food in a minute and then we’re all gonna get some sleep. You can talk to Ghost tomorrow.”

For yet another time you were left stunned. A bunkmate?

“A bunkmate?” You repeated out loud. 

“Only two beds,” Price said, as if you were stupid. “You can sleep with me or Gaz. I won’t be offended if you switch even after you’ve made my bed all wet.” 

Suddenly being faced with the choice of sharing a small bed with Price or Gaz after the conversation you’d just had and the conversation you’d had with Rudy earlier in the day was too much. Too much was happening to you! Where did life get off giving you the choices or lack thereof that it did? 

You must have looked a sight, staring into the dead air above the other bed like you’d seen a monster. On the one hand you figured that you could really use some comfort and the memory of how you felt after sleeping with Ghost was tamping your panic and convincing you that it would be ok, but on the other you were thinking about Rudy telling you to get it on with your teammates and that was bringing all sorts of embarrassing thoughts to light. How could you sleep next to them knowing that it might encourage those thoughts?

“I can just sleep on the floor, Price,” you said with what you hoped would be a convincing smile. “Done it plenty of times before.”

Price wasn’t having any of that. He paused at the bathroom door and fixed you with a tired stare. 

“Choose or I’ll choose for you.”

“No really, I can just use my bag as a pillow and-“

Price laughed dryly and shook his head. Looking at you like an incorrigible puppy. 

“Sleeping with me then. Sort that tail, eat your dinner when it comes and get into bed. Last thing I need is you complaining about your back while you’ve got that hip in bad enough shape.”

You watched him disappear into the bathroom with no less shock horror than when he presented the arrangement to you. All you could hear was Rudy’s taunting voice in your ear telling you that you could have any of your superiors if you just made your desires known. Which in turn helped break you from your shock. 

You started to wonder how Rudy and Alejandro started out together. Had they been like you and Ghost? Had Rudy come from a training facility and then luckily stuck with someone who loved him and who would foster that warmth and connection? Or maybe they knew each other before. Did Rudy do it for benefits and then it turned into more. 

You remembered some of the hybrids at your old base would trade sex for favours or contraband. The very thought of that made you want to vomit out all of your insides, especially when you thought of the humans at your old base. Fucking some of the hybrids was dire enough, only doing it to scratch each others itches when the need you felt grew to an explosive point. You’d never thought about doing out of genuine interest and attachment to another person before. Now it was all you could think about. 

“Wow, Price must’ve given you some talking to.”

You spun in place and faced Gaz, cheeks heating and ears flickering until you realised you’d been caught deep in your salacious thoughts. The room spun ever so slightly, but after getting a hold of yourself you remembered what Price had said and fixed your eyes on the trays that Gaz was holding. 

Right. Dinner. Tail. Sleep. 

“Hey,” you said lamely, sheepishly meeting Gaz’s eyes. 

“Hey, yourself,” he snorted. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you muttered rather unconvincingly. “You?”

“Fine, Pup. I didn’t get told off by the captain,” he winked. “And I already had my dinner. You should eat as well, might give you some life back in that sorry face.”

He went to set your tray down next to you and you gratefully thanked him while looking over the contents. It was exactly what you needed. Some kind of beef stew brimming with sauce and vegetables with a big bar of chocolate for after and a bottle of water to wash it all down. You breathed it in as if you could inhale it, the fresh smell making your mouth water. 

“What the hell? We need whoever the cook is here to transfer back with us. This looks fucking good.”

Gaz laughed at that. 

“Tastes fucking good too. Should eat up.”

You shook your head and picked up your brush. 

“Gotta sort this before I get Price’s bed any wetter. Should probably try to get back on his good side,” you said, already navigating the half dried tangles. 

“I don’t think he’ll care much. I’ve seen that man fall asleep standing in the rain. Bit of water on his bed won’t make a difference to him,” Gaz shrugged.

You laughed at that, but didn’t let it deter you from your work. It wasn’t like you were only concerned for the bed. The longer you took to get the last of your tail unfurled, the more painful it would be to tug out the dry knots. It felt therapeutic to tackle each tangle one by one anyway, brought a sense of calm to you while you worked. 

“What did the big man say anyway?”

“Hm?” You hummed back, not really hearing what he said. 

“Price. You looked like you were about to have a fit before I came in.”

You paused what you were doing and looked up at him with an arched brow. He arched his own back and to that you could only roll your eyes. 

“Nosy.”

“Got a right to be. Saved your life, you have to do whatever I say now.”

“Oh really?” You asked, seething as you hit a bad snag in your tail. 

“Really. Now tell me what he said,” Gaz demanded, voice higher with his amusement. 

You sighed and finally tackled the tough section you were working on, lobbing the big furball you pulled into the bin underneath the bedside table. Once that was done you looked over at Gaz. 

“He told me that I have to go do therapy,” you said with a screwed up expression. 

“Oof,” Gaz said, pursing his lips as he tried not to laugh. “I can see why you looked so serious then. Truly, it’s the harshest of punishments he could’ve come up with, that cruel old bastard. Just think of the battle scars you’ll come out with. Fucking hell, you’ll never come back the same.”

“You’re so funny.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter how much you say I’m not. I know that I’m hilarious.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, finishing the last bit of your tail. 

“An idiot that saved your life,” he smiled. “Idiot.”

You grinned and finally put down your brush so that you could go get the hairdryer. Instead of engaging any more in the silly fake argument, you got to work finishing off the drying process, taking a minute to sweep the dryer over your tail and fill your ears with white noise.

Once it was done, your tail was fluffy and warm, all ready for a good nights sleep. After you ate your stew of course. Now that Gaz was settled back on his bed and scrolling through his phone you were left to get to work on your last task. You picked up your tray and got ready to greedily scoff down the heavenly bowl in front of you. 

Just as you were picking up your fork and digging into your first bite the shower in the bathroom turned off again. You flicked your ears at the sound but didn’t think to pay it much mind. Instead you enjoyed your first bite, savouring the salty spicy beef and soft veg that was the perfect amount of juicy and crunchy. It was enough to make your eyes close all of their own accord. 

You opened them again when the bathroom door opened, immensely grateful you’d already swallowed that bite you took before you choked. Price came out in only a towel, the wet sheet of fabric commendably doing everything it could to cling to the ridges of his muscled hips and soft belly. His chest and arm hair was speckled with water droplets and the top of his head was all fluffy after it was presumably roughed over with the towel. 

Suddenly you’d completely forgotten what you were supposed to be doing. Your big round eyes were too busy roving all over Price. Every hair, every muscle, every scar that he had laid bare and available to you. In fact so much so that you were only broken out of it because Gaz cleared his throat and looked pointedly at you. 

“Good stew, Pup?” He quipped, shooting you a sly grin. 

You cleared your own throat and hid your eyes in the food, not trusting yourself to look at either of the other men in the room. 

“Yeah, yeah good. Thanks, Gaz,” you muttered, shovelling another bit in without tasting it this time. 

“You get some for me?” Price asked, busy combing his fingers through his hair over at the mirror. 

“Yeah, your tray’s just there on the table, Cap.” 

“Good man,” Price replied.

Just as you were sure that you might get over whatever it was that had come over you, you heard his towel dropping. Your ears, your tail, your heart stopped in place. Your eyes flicked up to the pale slopes of his ass before they shot right back down to your food again and felt as if they might just keep going and roll out of your head. Why did you even look up in the first place? 

You were sure the next bite of stew would be the end of you. But you could’ve face anyone asking why you’d stopped eating and you sure as hell didn’t want to think of some other way to distract yourself, so you forced down another bite and lost yourself to the rhythm of your raving heart. 

Luckily for you Price stuck his boxers on and then a pair of his own sweats, leaving his chest bare before he dried himself. He had the dryer on for a couple minutes after that, but you didn’t dare look at him beyond what filled your periphery, little flashes of him fluffing at his hair or running the dryer over his arms and chest. 

Soon enough the ordeal was done. He came over to sit by you and shovelled his food down with very little grace. He ate so fast that you both finished at the same time. The sound of his heavy breathing and Gaz turning the shower back on for himself were soon the only sounds in the room. 

“Ready for sleep?” He asked, raising his big damp brows at you. 

“Uh…I think so.”

“Good.”

That was all he said. No warning, no precursor to what he did next.

He stuck both your trays on the table and yanked the covers back, sweeping you under them with him, pulling you close to his chest until you were flush to his body. The smell of the cheap soap did little to diminish his natural scent as it wove itself around you. The sound of his booming chest filled your ears and soon you were both lying there in the stillness as if what was happening was normal. 

“Shouldn’t we turn the light off or…” you trailed nervously. 

“Gaz’ll need it, Pup. Just close your eyes, he’ll turn it off when he’s done,” Price rumbled, his entire voice trickling over you like hot honey. 

“Oh, yeah right… it’s just-“

“Pup,” Price groaned. “Anymore out of you and I’ll double your minimum amount of therapy sessions. Shut up, shut your eyes and go to sleep.”

Well there was no arguing with that. Though part of you wondered if you’d need more therapy just from that night alone. You huffed at the thought and finally settled against him, annoyed enough with his bluntness that you were able to see past his naked body and the bullet holes that speckled his left arm. You were only barely thinking about how much you wanted to paw at him at that point, grumpy and content enough to fold yourself into the sheets and close your eyes just as he’d asked. 

The sound of running shower water accompanied you into your dreams. Just as you’d figured it was going to be a long night, you floated off to Price’s faint snores and Gaz’s shower. Finally too tried to think anymore, or worry about what Gaz would see once he got out of the shower.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

By Rossella Tercatin

Tzahor’s lab, 22 years of work, scientific samples, including thousands of heart tissue from both animals and patients, DNA and RNA samples, and more, were gone.

A building of the Weizmann Institute of Science in Rehovot after it suffered a direct hit from an Iranian missile on June 15, 2025. (Courtesy of Prof. Eldad Tzahor of Weizmann)

When the researcher spotted a refrigerator that seemed mostly intact among the ruins, he could not help but try to save something.

“My son-in-law, who had come with me, climbed on the refrigerator and managed to open its door,” he recalled. “We transferred its content to another refrigerator at Weizmann in a building that was not hit.”

“Of course, the samples are supposed to be kept at a temperature of minus 80 degrees Celsius, and by the time we moved them, they were at room temperature, so I’m not sure they can still be used,” he added. “But at least we felt we did something.”

A building of the Weizmann Institute of Science in Rehovot after it suffered a direct hit from an Iranian missile on June 15, 2025. (Courtesy of Prof. Eldad Tzahor of Weizmann)

Tzahor was not the only one who jumped into action. In the aftermath of the Iranian attack, students and faculty scrambled to save what was possible.

Biologist Jacob Hanna, who was abroad, told the Nature journal that his students managed to save hundreds of frozen mouse and human cell lines by transferring them to backup liquid-nitrogen tanks he had prepared in the basement of one of the buildings, fearing possible consequences of the multi-front war Israel has been entangled in since October 7, 2023, when thousands of Hamas-led terrorists infiltrated the country from Gaza killing 1,200 people and wounding thousands.

The strike did not just damage individual labs. Much of the sophisticated equipment that the institute offered its scientists to share is also gone.

“Weizmann is built in a way so that we have a lot of support services, very expensive, very fine machinery that usually one lab can’t afford by itself,” said Dr. Tslil Ast. “Many scientists and labs rely on this equipment for their research. Those services, or at least part of them, have been very severely affected.”

According to Ast, that damage will impact the ability of many more labs to continue their research than just those that were hit the hardest.

Dr. Tslil Ast from the Weizmann Institute of Science. (Courtesy)

Ast works in the Department of Biomolecular Sciences. She started her lab a little over two years ago, researching how the human body uses iron and the ways an excess or lack of iron causes diseases.

“The lab is located in a building pretty far away from where the impact was,” she said. “We did sustain some damage to the building. Some parts of the ceiling collapsed, and windows were shattered. But overall, that’s very minor in light of what other labs are going through.”

Ast also explained that the Weizmann community has been affected by the incident beyond people’s work.

“Many of us live in Weizmann housing either on campus or off campus,” she said. “Especially facilities on campus took a serious hit, and people were forced to leave their homes. The basic sense of safety of many has been affected.”

Iran not only wants to destroy Israel but they also want to destroy Israeli scientific research that benefits the whole world. GAJ

[episims]

How to make a CC-free game folder for testing purposes

When people report problems with my content I often ask if they have tried the thing in a CC-free game. And often, they haven't.

I assume they might find it troublesome. If you always take backups and move your Downloads folder away and avoid saving, I agree, that is pretty troublesome. Also prone to mistakes – I stopped doing it after the one time I got my multi-PT mod messed up.

So I wrote a quick tutorial for how to do it with a separate folder system instead. The benefit of this setup is that you'll only need to do it once, after that it's very quick to switch folders at any time.

Go to the Documents directory where your game folder is located.

Rename the folder. I use something sensible at the start so I can easily recognize the folder, but it can be anything.

Then in the same directory, make a new folder.

Rename the new folder as The Sims™ 2 Ultimate Collection or whatever it should be, depending on your installation.

Go the the original game folder and copy everything but the Downloads folder.

This way you'll get your startup cheats, neighborhoods, and CEP-Extras carried to the new game folder. I also include Projects and SavedSims myself as these separate folders are handy to have for Body Shop work, too.

Go to the new folder and paste.

Now you may want to create a new Downloads folder here, that you can put that one piece you want to test without other CC in :)

This is the main advantage here. Moving things around and taking backups takes a lot of time compared to just changing the names of two folders.

You can also generate a new game folder by launching the game after renaming the other folders in this directory. It's useful if you want a truly fresh folder.

[luciacaminoz]

I'm sure everyone and their auntie is asking about LEFTOVERS FROM A RED HOT FEAST but I wanna know about that one please. And maybe The Dead Zone as a backup choice?

omg hi J T_T <333 THANK YOU (and im getting my ass back on discord soon!!)

i talked about Leftovers here so i’ll ramble about The Dead Zone ^^

it’s a very bare bones free Zine wip that i’m workshopping and would love to run next year (or at least post the intro and open submissions for the end of this year), based and developed further on the concept seen in Desert Ghosts: an illegal, nomadic, nowhere rave set in the World of Darkness.

THEME: “NIGHTS AT THE DEAD ZONE”

open to all splats; every sect welcome. it would be multi-media—art, short fiction, game hooks, character sheets, moodboards, fake twitter threads and mixtapes all set in or around the Dead Zone. can include content such as drug use, gore, sex.

- fully finished digital or (photographed/scanned) traditional pieces: flyers/graffiti, the one night only location, the rave in full swing/mid-SI raid/GLITCHGOD sparking Dementation in the booth, Kindred feeding, character portraits/outfits.

- short stories & vignettes (500-2000 words detailing yours/others’ characters’ experience at the Dead Zone, or maybe NPC dossiers on whoever is present at YOUR version of the Dead Zone, in whatever corner of the world your game takes place). maybe the Camarilla are keeping an eye on things, maybe Anarchs are recruiting, maybe Sabbat are midnight snacking. Hunters hunting. there’s something old here… or maybe it’s just a Demon possessed porta potty

- curated moodboards for the vibe/your character

- posted with curated playlists (you get an idea of what GLITCHGOD’s into during Desert Ghosts but ultimately go wild, even create your own track)

i’d want to make it as accessible as possible and would be cool with any suggestions going forward if there’s interest ^^ everyone gets one wild ass night at the clerb

small TLDR snippet of vibes from the fic

[posttexasstressdisorder]

CNN 5/6/2025

Inside the multi-day meltdown at Newark airport

By Pete Muntean, Rene Marsh, Aaron Cooper and Amanda Musa, CNN

Updated: 7:05 PM EDT, Tue May 6, 2025

Source: CNN

Air traffic controllers in Philadelphia were guiding planes to Newark Liberty International Airport in New Jersey last week when communications suddenly crashed.

“Approach, are you there?” one pilot asked the controller.

The controller stopped responding.

United Airlines Flight 1951, flying from New Orleans to the Newark hub, tried to radio the controller five times before finally getting a response.

“United 1951, how do you hear me?” the controller asks, according to air traffic control conversations recorded by the website LiveATC.net.

“I got you loud and clear, United 1951,” the pilot responds.

For at least 90 seconds, controllers lost the ability to see planes on radar scopes and for a minute they could not communicate with pilots, source with knowledge of the situation tells CNN. (Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy said Monday air traffic controllers lost contact for 30 seconds.)

The April 28 outage impacted information coming from radars located at a Federal Aviation Administration facility in Westbury, New York, where the air traffic controllers used to manage flights heading to Newark. Control over the airspace was transferred to Philadelphia in July. The radars are now operated using a remote line the source described as “a long extension cord.”

The outage was the result ofa failure of that copper wiring that transmits information to Newark approach control, a separate source tells CNN. “There was some infrastructure breakdown related to how the information is relayed right now.”

Similar outages happened twice before, the first source notes.

Those earlier incidents were reported to the FAA safety reporting system and “adjustments were made,” which kept the systems stable until the most recent loss, they say.

The technology interruption ultimately cascaded into a weeklong meltdown at Newark, one of the nation’s largest airports. It resulted in delays and cancellations for thousands of customers, controllers taking leave for trauma, and renewed scrutiny on an outdated air traffic control system.

The chaos also highlighted the challenges of an understaffed system, the latest incident in an already turbulent year for aviation that included a deadly collision between a passenger jet and US army helicopter.

‘I don’t know where you are’

Controllers at Philadelphia Terminal Radar Approach Control, which coordinates planes arriving at Newark, temporarily lost access to the systems that help them guide the aircraft, meaning they were unable to see, hear or talk to the planes, officials said. Controllers lost primary communication, and the backup line did not immediately take over, Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy told Fox News Monday. Audio obtained by CNN reveals the tense moments at the Philadelphia control center.

“United (flight) 674, radar contact lost,” a controller tells a pilot flying to Newark from Charleston, South Carolina. “We lost our radar so just stay on the arrival and maintain 6000 (feet).”

The same flight, traveling at hundreds of miles an hour, returns to the radar but does not show up in an accurate position.

The connectivity between Federal Aviation Administration radar and the frequencies that air traffic controllers use to manage planes at the airport “completely failed,” a source with knowledge of the situation said. Without radar, another approach controller told the pilot of a smaller aircraft to rely on towers for clearance.

“Do I have bravo clearance?” the pilot asks. Bravo clearance is permission to enter into the airspace surrounding a larger airport, like Newark Liberty.

“No, you do not have a bravo clearance. We lost our radar and it’s not working correctly. Radar service terminates… If you want a bravo clearance, you can just call the tower when you get closer,” the controller said.

Colin Scoggins, a former air traffic controller and retired military specialist at the FAA, told CNN that losing both radar and communications on the job can be a scary experience.

“If you cannot talk to a pilot, then you’re really in trouble,” he said. “I would find it very traumatic.”

“You’re sitting there watching the situation unfold, kind of like on 911, you see situations unfold that you have no control over. And when you’re a controller, you want to be in control. When you take that away, it can be very traumatic,” Scoggins added.

“Imagine driving down the highway in traffic and someone puts blindfold over eyes and tells you to keep driving and when you come back from driving dark you have to figure out what to do next,” a source told CNN.

About 15 to 20 flights were being controlled by Newark Liberty approach controllers when communication and radar went down on April 28, according to an analysis by flight tracking site Flightradar24.

The number is based on the altitude of aircraft bound for and departing Newark and audio from the approach radio frequency, Ian Petchenik, the director of communications for the site, tells CNN.

No crashes occurred, but at least five FAA employees took 45 days of trauma leave afterward.

Aviation analyst Miles O’Brien told CNN that the controllers did what they could with a potentially dangerous situation.

“I think, as I always say, that the controllers, the individuals who run this system daily, perform quiet heroic acts, in spite of a system that is built to set them up for failure. I believe in those people doing their job, but there’s only so much stress they can take,” O’Brien said.

The incident has compounded existing staffing shortages and equipment failures and contributed to frustrating hourslong delays for passengers, Duffy told Fox News.

A CNN analysis of FAA airspace advisories shows at least 14 straight days of FAA-imposed delays for flights to or from Newark.

Airlines canceled 160 flights to or from Newark Liberty on Monday, with more than 400 flights delayed, according to the flight tracking website FlightAware. The airport’s cancelations accounted for more than a quarter of all flight cancelations nationwide on Monday.

And on Tuesday, the FAA announced a ground delay for inbound flights at the airport, causing further delays.

The FAA has indicated it expects delays at the airport to continue due to the staffing shortages. Duffy noted that authorities will have to slow traffic at Newark before restoring full capacity.

A stormy weather pattern stuck in place in the Northeast is further complicating efforts to keep air traffic moving through the airport in northern New Jersey, where low clouds and rain are expected throughout the week.

A traumatic event

The current shortage of air traffic controllers is nearly the worst in 30 years, said the National Air Traffic Controllers Association, which represents 10,800 certified air traffic controllers across the country.

The control facility responsible for traffic at Newark has been “chronically understaffed for years,” United Airlines CEO Scott Kirby said in a Friday message addressing the delays. He also said the shortage was compounded by over 20% of FAA controllers who “walked off the job” at Newark Airport last week.

The controllers’ union said workers did not “walk off the job.”

“The controllers didn’t just walk off the job, they were traumatized, their equipment failed,” the source with knowledge of the situation said. “It’s written in the regulations if they experience a traumatic event — they can take time off to go see psychiatrist. The people working that day did that.”

But filling those empty positions is not an issue that can be sorted overnight, according to the FAA.

New air traffic control applicants must be younger than 31 years old so they can work the mandatory 20 or 25 years needed to qualify for pensions before their mandatory retirement age of 56, according to the FAA. Physical stamina and mental sharpness are critical to performing the job.

And air traffic controllers can’t simply fill in at a different airport without extensive preparation.

“When you first start at an air traffic control facility, you have to do a lot of memorization,” said Michael McCormick, a professor and air traffic management coordinator at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University.

“Most air traffic controllers don’t just monitor one airport. Many keep tabs on dozens of other regional airports to make sure planes keep a safe distance from each other.”

The FAA acknowledged a wave of new controllers won’t come overnight.

“While we cannot quickly replace (the controllers) due to this highly specialized profession, we continue to train controllers who will eventually be assigned to this busy airspace,” the FAA said.

A total of 885 Newark flights have been canceled since the April 28 air traffic control meltdown, according to an analysis by FlightRadar24, which notes that not all of the canceled flights were related to air traffic control issues.

United Airlines has preemptively canceled 35 round trip flights to or from Newark – meaning 70 individual flights – per day.

Airline analytics firm Cirium says the Newark delays have been spiking significantly since April 26, days before the control equipment outage at the Philadelphia air control site.

“Since April 26, on-time departures have fallen to 63%, which is far below industry norms,” said Cirium’s Mike Arnot. “Prior to that date, an average of four flights per day were cancelled in April.”

A frail system in place

Flights arriving to Newark were experiencing an average delay of 4 hours as of Tuesday evening, according to the FAA.

One passenger, Geraldine Wallace, told CNN Sunday she was anxious about the staffing shortage after her flight was delayed for almost three hours.

Mark Wallace, her partner, told CNN he was more worried about equipment failures.

“As concerning as the manpower issue is, according to news reports, the equipment that they’re using out of Philadelphia is antiquated,” he said.

Flexibility waivers are now available to impacted United Airlines customers with flights booked on or before May 4 and originally scheduled to fly from May 6 to 17, United said in an announcement Tuesday.

A separate waiver is available to customers with tickets purchased on or before April 29 for trips scheduled between May 1 and 5, the airline said.

The Department of Transportation will announce a plan Thursday to transform the air traffic control system, remodeling an outdated system that contributed to days of delays at Newark, Duffy, the transportation secretary, told Fox News on Monday.

The system used to manage air traffic at Newark is “incredibly old,” Duffy said.

“We use floppy disks. We use copper wires,” he said Friday. “The system that we’re using is not effective to control the traffic that we have in the airspace today.”

Duffy has since pledged to implement a new, “state-of-the-art” system at air traffic control facilities across the country that would be the “envy of the world” – but said it might take three to four years.

“We are going to radically transform the way air traffic control looks,” Duffy told Fox News’ Laura Ingraham.

President Donald Trump has “bought into the plan,” he said.

Peter Goelz, former managing director of the National Transportation Safety Board, said he wasn’t sure he’d want to fly out of Newark for the next 10 days.

“We have a very safe system, but anytime it’s stressed like this, where you have controllers who are feeling under maximum pressure, it impacts safety – and people have a right to be concerned,” Goelz told CNN.

“You cannot expect humans to function at their highest level for sustained periods of time with this kind of pressure on them.”

This story has been updated with additional information.

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Dontcha feel just...so very safe?

[mari-beau]

Hi! Is ellipsus worth using and is it free? I keep seeing it pop up from time to time and I’m curious

I've been using it instead of Google Docs for like six months I think. And I always have it open in my browser, or use it on my phone, daily tbh.

It's built by people who are anti-AI and pro-fandom, with fan writing in mind, actually. It's very much focused on features for collaborative writing, but I don't cowrite and still find that it does everything I need.

Notable features:

Syncing across multiple devices. I had been using Google Docs for years because a major feature I need is to be able to access my writing from multiple different devices and locations. Ellipsus does this. And has gotten better (sometimes had problem of it not syncing on my phone and then when I opened on my laptop, it wouldn't update until I opened on my phone and forced a sync; but this has happened less frequently and it mostly autosyncs)

Drafts feature. My style of writing, I just don't do drafts that need to be separated out (I don't ever change large chunks of a work that I need to save the original). I think this is helpful for collaborative work. I actually use the drafts for my Outlines and Notes, so I have a quick link right there to access them, and they're kept within the document.

Writing Interface. It's pretty simple in style, which is actually good for writing. They do have a tool bar that you can leave up or hidden, with various formatting options, and an "outline" like Google Docs does (just put a header font in there and shows up on the outline and you have a quick link to jump around)

Cafe Mode I think they officially call it "focus mode" or something but it's a little coffee cup symbol so I think of it as that. This will make just the writing interface take up your whole screen for "distraction-free" writing. I don't use this, as I've been writing in word processors forever and it doesn't bother me to have the features/menus visible.

Timer I think it has a timer you can set. Again, I don't use this.

Collaborative Writing. I don't use this feature, but it looks very similar to how Google Docs sharing works with inviting/giving access to others.

Log-In. It will remember and keep you logged in on a device, but apparently only for set amount of time (unsure how long, as it seems to have random variation). But it is annoying that you can't just log-in with a password; it sends a code to your email. (I won't get into how I am so sick of "multi-factor" verification bs).

Reliability. So far it has never been "down". I do download a backup sometimes (they have several options for quickdownload of a document and are working on more) just out of paranoia.

It's free. But I can't say whether the creators will eventually go to a subscription model or something to cover the expense of the servers and other work (could probably check the "Support" section for any discussion of it - which is also pretty active as they look to develop features users are requesting, etc.)

TL;DR It's free and I do recommend it.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Planning: Study the context, chart a strategy, plan for different scenarios

Proper planning is the essence of safe, effective direct action. Keeping your goals and priorities in mind along with the resources you have to work with, plot and compare different strategies. Weigh out the risks and potential rewards of each: always pick the safest way to accomplish a given objective, and make sure you can afford to take the risks you choose. It sometimes happens that as the planning process goes on, a project will get more and more ambitious and hazardous, until some of those involved start to have doubts; at that point, it may be necessary to work out a safer or scaled-down version of the plan, so it can still take place.

There are countless factors to take into account in planning. You must pick the most effective tactics in the context of the current social and political situation. You must pick the best location for the action and take into account all its attributes; you must pick the best date and time of day. You must bear in mind the others who will be in the area, and how they will react—will they be sympathetic, or may hostile vigilantes interfere with your activities? You must coordinate the timing of different parts of the action, predicting how long each will take, and figure out how those involved in the action will communicate.

When predicting the responses of others—say, for example, the police—consider the factors influencing them: Are they expecting what you’re planning, or do you have the element of surprise? If you have the advantage of surprise, how long will it last? Will there be a lot of attention focused on the event? Will it be immediately apparent what you are doing? Will there be middle-class citizens or reporters around, and will their presence put a damper on the authorities’ response? What is their strategy likely to be, based on previous precedents for police behavior in this context? Do their bosses want them to come down hard on you—or to avoid provoking a scene? How well do they communicate, how fast do they move, where are they located, what routes will they take?

Don’t underestimate the challenges of simple logistical matters, such as transporting people or communicating in stressful situations. Don’t forget to plan an exit strategy, either.

Because plans rarely come off exactly as they are laid, it’s important to have backup plans worked out for different scenarios: “If ____, we’ll ____; if ____, we’ll ____.” Have a few different objectives in mind, in case your first choice turns out to be impossible. Having a basic structure for communications and decision-making in place will help you to be prepared for situations that play out differently than any of the scenarios you had imagined.

Be careful not to put others at risk for your actions; the authorities will probably charge whomever they get their hands on with the worst crimes they can, so it’s important both to get those who take risks out of the area safely and to make sure serious charges can’t stick to anyone else. In some cases, you can bring together multi-leveled groups in which everyone knows the general goal but only a few know critical details such as what the target is or who is to carry out the riskiest activity.

Be prepared for the best-case scenario as well as the worst. New ideas, if they are good ones, tend to fail because people don’t take them far enough, whereas older ideas usually fail because they are too familiar to everyone, including the authorities. Sometimes the best results come from applying familiar tactics in entirely new settings.

Look back in time for precedents, occasions when similar actions were attempted in similar contexts. These can be very instructive. As you gather years of experience and learn from others’ successes and failures, you’ll develop skills for predicting and preparing for a wide variety of situations.

[odemonkillo]

April and the Ninja Turtles Chapter 24

Standing in front of a large board used as an investigation display, April gently tapped the tip of her pen against her lips as she pondered over her messy diagram. Photos, security camera screenshots, and sticky notes covered the surface. For the past few days, she’d been trying to piece together everything they knew about Stockman’s mutants. Thanks to Donatello, they could listen in on police radio transmissions and thus know in real-time what was happening on the surface and whether any attacks were reported.

Her brows furrowed when she heard mention of a new rebel group during a conversation between two officers. “Purple... Dragons?” she repeated, turning toward the modified radio. She approached it carefully, avoiding the many cables on the ground, and placed her hands on both sides of the device while listening intently, the voices echoing against the walls of the underground lair.

“Affirmative. It happened last night, sir,” confirmed one officer through the radio, unaware they were being listened to. “What time did the attack occur? Any witnesses?” asked the second officer in a deep voice. “Last night at 11:32 PM. An armed group was spotted near the west docks, but there were no witnesses to their actions. I’m still waiting for my superior’s approval to inspect the surveillance footage,” the officer concluded.

At that moment, Donatello arrived with two cups of coffee in his hands, handing one to the human before heading toward his multi-screen computer setup. “Luckily, I don’t need authorization,” he said ironically, already typing away on his keyboard to find footage from the reported location. April gave a faint smile and moved beside him, her arm resting on the back of his chair while she sipped the perfectly sweetened hot coffee—just how she liked it. A detail he remembered, she noted.

“There. That must be them.” After a few minutes, the surveillance footage appeared on one of the screens, Donatello pointing at it with his index finger. “So these are the Purple Dragons. What are they up to…” muttered April, frowning as she leaned in to observe the suspects’ movements more closely.

After a few moments of footage, the men on the screen suddenly turned around before a black shadow pounced on them and vanished off-camera. The four men were now unconscious on the ground, while the last one standing aimed his weapon at something. He fired several shots while backing away before the mysterious shadow leapt on him as well and quickly disappeared. Mouths agape in shock, Donnie and April exchanged a puzzled look before replaying the attack.

“Is there any way we can hear what they’re saying?” April asked, watching the beginning of the video. “Unfortunately, the camera isn’t equipped with a microphone,” Donnie replied, resting his elbow on the desk to hold his chin as he squinted at the strange figure.

“Wait, there. Pause it,” April said, moving closer to the screen. Donatello complied, freezing the frame where the man pointed his gun. April pointed to the side of the screen for him to zoom in on a particular area, and after a few adjustments, the image became clearer. One entire arm was barely visible in the camera’s corner, but it looked strange. The figure’s skin was pitch black and covered in an odd pattern. “It looks like... scales,” April whispered, voicing what the mutant beside her was probably thinking.

She turned to him, both of them stunned by what they had just discovered. There were more mutants out there.

Behind them, the radio crackled again, and a breathless police officer shouted: “This is Officer Denis, I’m in pursuit of an individual—well, I mean, uh... a creature! I’d say... some kind of alligator-man or whatever! Send backup to the south end of Central Park!” he ordered before cutting the transmission.

“I’ll get the others.”

…

Slipping through the night like shadows, the four turtles moved silently under the moonlight, darting through bushes and leaping from tree to tree. The park was eerily quiet in the late evening, not a single human in sight. Leonardo signaled to his brothers when he heard a scream near the pond. With a firm nod, Michelangelo and Raphael disappeared into the trees while Donatello joined the leader on the ground.

Gripping his bo staff in one hand, he slid his high-tech goggles over his snout to scan the area for a heat signature. With a hand gesture, he signaled his brother to stop when he spotted a figure lying motionless on the ground. Carefully, Donatello approached the unconscious officer, face down in the grass, and prodded him gently with the tip of his staff to check for a reaction.

“Ugh...” groaned the portly man, slowly lifting his face from the grass. But when he opened his eyes and saw two green toes in front of him, he yelped and sprang to his feet. “New York is crawling with monsters!” he exclaimed, fleeing with a limp.

“Sir, wait!” Leonardo called, reaching out a hand. He wanted answers, but the man was already gone. “Forget it,” Donnie muttered, shaking his head, a pang behind his plastron at the word he hadn’t heard in a while—monster.

He crouched down, examining some strange footprints with three toes and a deep imprint, indicating the creature’s heavy weight. Slowly, he raised his eyes toward the calm waters of the pond, his brow furrowed with unease. “These humans…” Leonardo said behind him, arms crossed as he stepped closer. “Donnie?” he asked, puzzled to see his brother staring so intently at the water.

“The man we just encountered had multiple injuries—bite marks, claw wounds. And the prints here are deep. I’m 98% sure it’s the alligator-man we saw at Stockman’s warehouse,” Donatello explained, straightening up to look at his brother with concern.

“Then we’d better make sure he never hurts anyone again,” the leader replied, turning his gaze toward the softly rippling water.

“Maybe April’s right. He might be scared, like we were... He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Donatello could hardly believe his own words, but a flicker of doubt pushed him to follow this path.

“The last time we saw him, he almost killed Mikey. Are you ready to take that risk again?” Leonardo raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t entirely against the idea—if there was a way to resolve things without violence, he’d be the first to support it. But there were risks to consider.

“Let me try. If I fail, then we stick to the plan,” Donatello said, pushing his goggles up on his snout. His eyes drifted briefly from the pond to his uncertain brother. But before Leo could answer, the water suddenly erupted as a large shape burst from the surface with a monstrous hiss.

“Watch out!” Leonardo shouted, flipping backward to dodge a lethal claw swipe.

Donatello stepped back, and the mutant turned toward him furiously, snapping its massive jaws in his direction, a deep hiss rumbling like thunder from its throat. The turtle tightened his grip on his staff and took a deep breath.

“My name is Donatello. My brothers and I—we don’t want to hurt you,” he said clearly, holding his bo in one hand while the other was raised in a peaceful gesture. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified, especially as the beast fixed him with an enraged glare. The mutant tilted its head slightly, eyeing him severely before taking a threatening step forward.

“Donnie?” Leonardo called out nervously from behind, wide-eyed.

“Humans have hurt us too,” Donatello continued, fighting the urge to back away from the towering creature, easily twice his size. “But some of them... are kind.”

At those words, the alligator-man stopped just a step away from him, slowly opening his jaws near Donatello’s face, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth—an unspoken threat.

“You just... need to learn to trust. We can help each other,” Donnie said hesitantly, shutting his eyes tightly, shoulders tense as the creature’s jaws surrounded his entire head. If it wanted, it could rip it off in an instant.

“LEATHERHEAD!’’ suddenly called out Michelangelo as he swung from a rope tied to a branch and leapt straight at the mutant, who had turned around at his shout.

With a flying kick, the orange-masked ninja dove at him before the mutant grabbed his leg and flung him away with a strangled cry. Right behind him, Raphael arrived with his sai to cross blades with the mutant’s claws, smirking, clearly pleased to resume the fight that had been interrupted.

"What’s up, Donnie? What are you doing back there?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at his brother, who had fallen back in shock.

Raph’s arms trembled under the force of his opponent as he held firm, claws screeching against his sai.

His glasses askew on his snout, Donnie stared at his red-masked brother pushing back the mutant with strength, his eyes wide after having just stared death in the face moments ago.

"I thought that… that…" he stammered, unable to find the words.

"It’s okay, at least you tried," Leonardo said with an understanding smile, offering him a hand to help him up.

Donatello pushed up his glasses with a trembling finger, then refused the hand and stood up by himself. No way he was going to let them spend their time helping and protecting him like in the old days.

"I haven’t tried every method yet," he replied, clearing his throat and gathering his courage. Surprised by his sudden change, Leonardo watched him step determinedly toward the alligator-man who had just swatted Mickey away again with his tail.

"Listen! We’re in the same situation. I know you were human before, so you should be able to understand me," Donatello called out, raising his voice, pointing firmly at the mutant as he got closer.

"That one… a real stubborn mule," sighed Raphael, helping Mickey back up after his fall.

"He won’t let it go. That’s classic Donnie," the youngest replied, wiping blood from his snout with the back of his hand.

"You’re scared, I get that. But let us help you," Donatello continued, reaching out to him with an inviting expression. The mutant stared at him for a moment before roaring and swiping at him while shouting,

"Too late!"

Donatello ducked quickly to avoid the blow, then gracefully dodged again with a side flip. He clearly didn’t want to listen to reason…

"Maybe you've undergone a major genetic transformation and lost your human status. Learn to use it to your advantage!" Donatello had no intention of giving up, especially now that he knew the mutant could understand him—and even speak, though he had to admit his deep voice was intimidating.

"Shut up!" the mutant barked back, lashing out with several claw strikes. One finally hit, knocking Donatello down during an evasive move. With a cry of surprise, Donatello rolled on the ground with a painful groan, and it didn’t take long before Raphael stepped in to protect him—again. Gritting his teeth, Raph held his sai between them and the claws to shield his brother, then pushed the mutant back with a strong kick.

Donatello used his bo staff to get back on his feet, motioning to his other brothers not to interfere before raising his eyes to Raphael, who was fighting fiercely. About to ask him to let him handle the situation, Donatello gave up the idea instantly. During a brutal exchange, Raphael used his forearm to block a claw swipe that would’ve been fatal if it had struck his face.

With a cry, the claws sliced through his skin easily, blood spraying as his brothers looked on in shock. Staggering back, clutching his wounded arm, the red-masked turtle gritted his teeth to keep from screaming. That was when Donatello’s last thread of patience snapped. With a growl, he tightened his grip on his bo and leapt forward, slamming it into the mutant’s head so hard the impact echoed through all of Central Park.

Everyone froze in shock as the geek’s staff cracked down on their enemy’s skull with a dull thud. Without a sound, the brute collapsed, knocked out cold by the force of the blow, as the others stared in disbelief. Skinny, techy Donnie—who spent his days behind screens—had just K.O.’d a three-hundred-kilo wall of muscle?! Mouth agape, Raphael watched him calmly approach to examine his injury with a concerned expression.

"Sorry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have insisted," he said with a sigh through his snout, closing his eyes in disappointment. He hated failing.

"Leo? Leo? Did you just see what I saw, or am I dreaming with my eyes open again?" asked Michelangelo, shaking his still-stunned leader beside him.

"Huh?" Leo replied, eyes locked on the unconscious body, jaw still hanging.

"We have to bring him back. If someone finds him, he could get into serious trouble," Donatello said as he got up and tucked away his now slightly bent bo staff.

"Huh?" repeated Leo, Raph, and Mikey in unison, turning their wide-eyed gazes toward him.

He wasn’t serious. Was he?

…

To be continued…

[looselyreadymade]

Part 21: Add a little Spice

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH 

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, grief, depression, panic, drugs, violence, mild gore, reader x Alastor, emotional distress, TWO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

Taking down Heaven’s perfect little regime: a checklist 

Plan your outfit according to the targets. Too brave, they lose trust. Not noticeable enough, they lose interest. Going to a bar with lots of Heavenborn requires a different wardrobe repertoire to a crowd of human souls. Dress accordingly. 

Pick the location. To start with, choose a bar with evening and nighttime attenders which have a range of music tastes, more amenable to influence. 

Choose the energy you wish to encourage. Start out gentle, then lay it on thicker as the night progresses, depending on the reception you get. Rowdy, horny, devious, cheeky, wild, sneaky, whatever. Just ease them into it before they catch on. 

Have a backup plan. If the mood or outfit is putting off the targets, switch tactics immediately. The further you push, the more resistance you’ll get. 

Weapons. Concealed and hard to notice. Enough to give you an advantage if things go south. 

Take mental notes of the groups who feed into the energy most and who need further consideration. Use this information for the next attempts. 

Hold the cards, own the room, take the power. No one should be able to sway the targets from your goal without your say-so. 

Bring snacks? 

You compile your game plan, making brief notes while mentally picturing the sequence of events. In your mind, it will be entirely improvisation; the members of the crowd will be essentially luck and chance as to the life on earth each soul has lived, so you cannot control for their experiences and beliefs under the blissful heavenly ignorance. You will be able to have a rough estimate of the energy when you arrive but will still need backup plans and tactics if anything begins to falter.  

 Emily had used her charm with some of the locals, finding out the best places for angels to go that boost their nostalgia. A few in particular had a few levels of dance floors, mostly playing soft pop and disco, with the odd classical music bar or jazz room. You figured the disco level might be the easiest room to swing for your first night. 

You design a dress which can be altered quickly and easily; a bouncy skater-style pink number with a few layers at the chest and skirt that can be adjusted and removed. As the mattress incident reminded you, you’re not great at sewing. Thankfully, Emily knew of a lovely 15th century seamstress who adored creating multi-layer fashion with big surprises. Whilst the frock was nothing like what she had grown up with, she claimed it reminded her of the rebellious slits they had incorporated into some of the maiden’s gowns, back when using different forms of fabric to fascinate the men was more scandalous than the tightness of your bodice. You had asked in jest whether the amount of skin you would be showing made her uncomfortable; she had shaken her head, telling you a few stories as she sewed. Judging by the glint in her eye as she spoke, there was definitely more to her personality than the sweet little seamstress she portrayed. She’d make an excellent ally, you muse. 

You planned to keep self-defence weapons to the absolute bare minimum. Daggers would be visible when you got to the bottom layer of your dress, and your open-toe shoes wouldn’t help hiding them. You toyed with a few ideas, discussing options with Sir Pentious for potential inventions. He eagerly ran through multiple projectile and explosive-based weaponry, gushing over imaginary drawing plans, flailing his arms as he mimics the firing mechanisms. Heaven couldn’t break the inventive spirit of this madman. Lilith had little to contribute to the conversation besides pointing out to him the obvious; projectile weapons are near nil in Heaven and would give away our rebellion in a heartbeat. He appears discouraged, slithering back to his hastily scrawled pictures in the sand. She wasn’t wrong... maybe you needed something that incorporates into your outfit, that can be used as a weapon. The Carmilla Carmine style shoes would be too obvious, no angel wanders casually around with those. Same with clawed gloves, those are 1000% a write off. For now, you were going to have to go in without the protection; this shouldn’t be too much of an issue in these early stages, as it was just getting the angels on board rather than actually disturbing the peace. 

You circle around ideas between the four of you. Mostly just reiterating boundaries and limiting potential exposure to unwanted attention. Keeping the rebellion as underground as possible was paramount. 

Electronic keyboards and autotuned cat-like voices filled the lower-level of Flora’s Bar. Barely any bass, hardly any alcohol, just a few polite angels lined up around every booth, high table and bar, with about 20 angels on a brightly-lit 80’s disco themed dance floor. Lilith had been right about the clientele at this sort of place; almost every angel you saw had a sparkle in their eyes, reminiscing more than just enjoying the moment. These were perfect targets for nostalgic manipulation.  

It was difficult to judge on the age of the soul based on the dresses and suits, as a bar like this often attracts those who like to fit into the style as opposed to representing their own former clothing. For the most part, everything just appeared rather modest, and very pastel. Mute, safe. Like a room full of ready to paint canvases. 

The music sourced from a DJ booth in the far-left corner, with a big glittering decorative wall throwing the light back at the dancers from the spotlights. The DJ was too focused on pressing a sequence of buttons to notice you slipping a tiny dose of a stimulant-high into his drink.  

Next was the bar. Angels were stood or rested on stools with conversation flowing, eyes wandering around the comfort of the room. No tension, no excitement. A little encouragement was needed. You asked the bartender how they were doing, small talking briefly as you distracted them from serving other guests. Each time they would apologise and go to serve someone else, you would steal the attention back, preventing the steady flow of mild drinks. Patrons began to get very slightly annoyed, even starting to complain to each other. The bartender was too polite, unable to refuse to talk to you. This little game worked perfectly, as the bar began to fill with expectant customers, many becoming irritated with you, casting the odd displeased glance your way. The bartender finally started becoming really uncomfortable, almost backing away from you. That’s the cue to change tactics; “Oh dear, have i taken your time? I’m so sorry, it was just such a pleasure to converse with such a worldly spirit, you certainly do belong in customer service! Please, let me make it up to you all. I am recently departed, and know of a few games to catch up on all your wasted time. Here!” You hop over the bar, startling everyone nearby. Your jovial skipping captivates them as you line up thirty Jager bombs with the shot glasses on top, loosening the built-up tension with curiosity. Control the mood, control the room. One lady in particular seemed excited by the Jager train, hands curling around the bar as she watched you pour the liquid with rambunctious flair. You return the bottles, meet the lady’s eyes and gesture her with a finger to follow you. So caught up in the moment, she follows you to come behind the bar, awaiting your instructions. “You done one of these before, hon?” She nodded confirmation, eyes lighting up, remembering. Perfect. “Do the honours!” 

She lightly tapped the Jager shot at the beginning of the train, knocking the drinks into a domino-effect of shots. The crowd, now increasing in volume around your little show, cheers gleefully at the spectacle. “This one’s on me. Hey DJ! May i have a song request? I need backing tunes for a magic show!”  

You skip over to the now slightly saucer-eyed DJ who’s trembling with energy.  

You flick through the premeditated list he has, shaking your head. “This won’t do. Do you guys have this music every week??” 

“Yeah!” they shout in unison. 

“And do you guys have this same DJ every week??” 

“Yeah!!” They cry louder, abuzz with the herd mentality. 

“Now, come on DJ, lets give the people something to get excited about. You have anything a with a little more bass?” 

He scowls, thinking. The memories seem to crawl back, reminding him of an entire genre he hadn’t heard in decades. “I got it!” 

You tap the side of the DJ booth, leaning forward, pretending to watch the DJ’s actions whilst adjusting your body. Your front leg got a little more pointed forward, your beck leg straightened, highlighting the length of your angelic legs and shortening the lowest part of your frilly skater dress, adding a slight curve into your back. Nothing offensive, no flashing. Just keeping the attention on you.  

He raises his arms in the air in glee as a new tune fills the room; bouncing, electronic bass with an easy-to-follow dancing pace. You bounce your head to the beat, clapping and raising your hands, meeting the eyes of the crowd. Many of them join, swept in with the shift in energy. “Can someone get the lights? I can’t fool a room full of clever angels with every damn spotlight on!” Cheers and laughs ripple across the room as someone runs to find the lights. The main room is dropped into a dark, dappled rainbow, flushed with neon colours from the dancefloor. Party time, and you brought the magic. 

Your first trick was to separate Ice from alcohol without touching the ice itself; a simple enough parlour trick using a dummy glass and some sleight of hand. Having not been playfully deceived in many, many years, the crowd hadn’t seen something so mind-blowing since entering Heaven. You passed the now ice-less drink to a buzzing guest with his top button starting to come undone, picking the right people to encourage to loosen up. The next two magic tricks worked up a storm, distracting people from how much they had started drinking now the inhibitions were lowering.  

Next came the cheesy music. You ordered some shots for yourself, showing the crowd they can relax and have fun like you; many followed suit. At the bar, you spun to face the DJ, smirking and throwing him a wink before demanding the next tune. He recognises it instantly, whipping it up and hitting play. The crowd went buck-wild at the YMCA. You genuinely wondered how so many of them even knew the song, if they had died before its release. It quickly became apparent that most of them had no idea what the song was, they were just incredibly buzzed and riding the high of the party atmosphere. As a few sprinted to the dance floor and busted out the intro moves, you started up the clapping again, motioning for the others to join in with the beat. As the chorus belted, the extremely easy to learn moves began to spread across to the angels who hadn’t known the tune before. The energy was infectious, claiming most of the entire crowd with the laughter and bold moves as they picked up on the routine.  

Throughout the rest of the night, you kept the drinks flowing, made the DJ another special drink, even had the bartender join in a few drinking challenges. The patrons responded beautifully to the staff loosening up, bringing on the perfect balance between thrill and lack of inhibitions, without causing any scenes or drama.  

The success of the night carried on until long after closing time, which became an incredible spectacle for the customers who had been leaving the other dancefloors and heard the party. The now jam-packed room was filled with human-souls-turned-angels having the time of their afterlives, rocking to a mix of nostalgic dance and pop tunes that some of the more recently-departed had recalled from their heydays. The close proximity of the dancing due to the crowded room forced many people up against each other; initially there was a lot of apologies, then barely any, and eventually it became accepted, if not enjoyed to be bumping into and against each other as they bounced and jiggled to the beat. Strangers began to dance with each other, especially when a few would show off their skills from their former lives, creating small pockets of dance circles. The night only ended when you decided it had to, to keep that energy and thrill ready for the next night that you had planned. You needed a reputation, and a good one. 

You pull into the DJ booth, sidling up next to him with a grin and kissed him on the cheek. Some of the guests who noticed gave a wolf whistle and cheer. The DJ blushed, hugging themselves a little from being bashful. You tease some of the buttons, lingering on some for a small amount of time, stroking them slightly. His eyes were transfixed on your hands, barely blinking under the drugs’ influence. You bite your lip and address the crowd, looking cute and apologetic as you turn down the music halfway. “This has been the BEST night in Heaven, thank you so much!” In response there’s screams and cheers, spilled drinks and laughter; “But it’s time to get out of here before the big guys come out. You know how LONG we’ve been partying?! It’s four AM!” More screams, arms in the air. “We need to do this again, somewhere a little more secret. I vote the ballet studio in Louvienne Street, winners only, no Heavenborns allowed to ruin our fun!” They go wild, completely rapt in the hype. “Tuesday night. Bring someone who can dance. I’ll bring the DJ!” You turn to him and wink, watching the pride bloom across his red cheeks. “Until then, no snitching! Goodnight!” 

A steady stream of customers departs into the wee early hours of the morning, still buzzed but keeping hushed to avoid waking the locals. The acoustics of the lower-level bar had maintained an excellent sound barrier against the outside streets, whilst also reverberating the music throughout the whole room. This served perfectly as the first attempt, and honestly went far better than you imaged it would. Many angels were whispering about what to wear for Tuesday, as they had gotten hot and sweaty in this getup. This had gone amazing. You realised how much easier the next time was going to be. They were already hyped and spreading the word, already had a baseline level of expectation for how fun it could get. You just had to get them energised enough for when you kicked it up a notch. 

Tuesday came and went, an entire ballet studio thriving with angels swaying and bouncing to predominantly pop music, hinging on some more rowdy tunes. They followed the mood beautifully, cheering the trained dancers on as much as the newbies who were trying out a few moves. You didn’t play magic tricks this time; instead, it was drinking games. You have any idea how bad angels are at beer pong? The poor fuckers were enthralled by the challenge, queueing up for over an hour at a time to have a go before they started to set up their own beer-pong tables.  

The success from the previous party had attracted a larger gathering, hence the need for the ballet studio. It was underground, with a long staircase and very high up windows that could be blacked out, surrounded by walls of mirrors. It was mesmerising, even to you, to glance across at the infinities of reflections and seemingly never-ending twinkling lights.  

 Another forced shut-down at three-thirty AM seemed to really upset the party, enough that they shouted for encores and chanted until they had their way. They ended up relinquishing at five AM. It was subtle psychology at its best; you had just managed to trick an entire swathe of once prim and proper angels into making demands and standing up for themselves.  

You promised the next night to be a sensory thrill, something they would never anticipate. The room buzzed with debate as they filed from the ballet studio, discussing what that could mean, eager to find out. 

This was when you pulled all the stops out for bringing Hell up to Heaven. 

Setting up took a couple of days, using a small network of useful friends you had made at the parties. Some would bring the alcohol, some would bring seating, some brought party games they had made from memory. The location was far from the city centre, avoiding Heavenborns from the upper hierarchies wandering by. This time, you went for a construction site, enclosed in a temporary warehouse frame. This was strategic; it helped show the people of Heaven that not everything up here in the pearly city was perfect, and that it didn’t need to be. It was real, and it could still be amazing. 

You used the scaffolding and vehicles as platforms and structures for dancing; tying aerial hoops, silks and gym-rings for the more athletic dancers to try out, as well as being demonstrated by a few paid dancers you had managed to persuade into ‘bringing out their inner performer’. After you reinforced the idea of being celebrated and cherished for their skills and not being judged for standing out, they had set out to practice mini routines and moves the day before the party. They looked stunning, whirling and posing in mid-air, despite the sandy concrete and barely dug-out foundations of new buildings. The construction team were away for the three days leading up and two days after, hired for an ‘essential emergency’ for the courts (pretty much just made up on the spot by Emily, though her purely innocent face let her get away with this flawlessly). 

Decorated in flowers, ribbons, silk sheets and velvets, the equipment looked hilarious. It gave off the impression of dressing up a donkey in fine robes. Still beautiful, and still looked like an ass. 

The music list had been curated by the main DJ you worked with, and two others who had caught wind of the parties. One in particular recounted his days in the underground rave scene; while you strongly encouraged him to work with the crowd and keep the energy at a high before attempting anything dirty, you still gave him those sultry, amused looks that hinted that you liked what he had to offer. Another member to add to your team, and very familiar with the drugs scene too, even if not an active participant when alive. This could go extremely well if handled correctly.  

At first glance, you wouldn’t normally be able to tell who was a human soul and who was a Heavenborn; right up until you’re seeing them throwing their hair around to the pounding bass in a construction site. The Heavenborns really do know how to throw it BACK. 

The rumours of a good party had spread a little too far after the ballet studio; the human souls who had close Heavenborn friends they trusted had made confidential promises to keep the party as quiet as possible from what they now referred to as the ‘higher-ups' so they could keep going. Now, you were helping out at the overflowing bar, pouring shot after shot for angels who had no fear in turning up and wearing some downright filthy rave gear. Unlike the humans, they hadn’t needed to do the right things and say the right prayers to get into Heaven, they just lived here. The privilege was mildly infuriating, considering you knew of demons who acted far less indiscrete than this, yet were stuck down there. Although, the bitter thought passed extremely quickly as you watched the raunchiest Heavenborn you have ever seen start to use one of the construction scaffold legs as a dancing pole. This dude had a torn-open shirt, incredibly tight leather jeans and glittering purple nipples, gyrating and sliding up that pole like he owed last months’ rent money. You took huge advantage of this, escaping the bar and swaying towards the scene. You circled him, making eye contact, showing the observers they are allowed to enjoy, even participate in such a performance. As the next song came on, you stepped over to him and whispered in his ear to undo the full-length zip of your dress. He does so without question, incorporating it into a slow slut drop as he pulls on the zipper from breast to legs. The outer pink layer of your piece slips off with you throwing it out to the crowd, revealing a far lower neckline on a shimmering black skater dress. Your cleavage was visible less-than-tastefully, but still modest enough to get away with appearing more decent than the Heavenborn beside you. Giving him a high-five as he stands upright, you stride over to the parallel pole and begin throwing your own moves. 

The DJ pulls out banger after banger, wrenching up the bass and mixing the songs like an R&B dancefloor from a gentleman's club back on Earth. The music just kept getting dirtier, as did the drinks. You had hired bartenders who were keeping eyes out for spiking and cutting off patrons who had gone past a comfortable threshold; you still needed absolute control over the energy, and having wasted or emotional guests could kill it in minutes. This worked well enough, barely any angels were actually annoyed by this as they were redirected to delicious snacks or dancing instead. 

This time, you let the party carry on until the sunrise cracked through the gaps in the warehouse walls. Gradually, you softened the lighting, had the DJ ease off on the bass and volume bit by bit, until guests began to leave at their own leisure. Very few had stuck around past five-thirty AM, mostly just helping clean up and telling stories from their time in nights out when alive. The remaining souls helped pack everything up by seven AM, sleepy but very satisfied. The nostalgia had long gone, replaced by a newfound pleasure for living in the moment. 

Using your network, you were able to allow multiple events to be held in different locations; some were more raunchy, some more cheesy, some closer to a rave than you were expecting. The strict rules you set included not allowing anyone to get violent, wasted, spiked, hurt or out of control. This meant the drinks were regulated, there was a strict cut-off limit, a ban on violence, and medical support on-hand in case of accidents. Heaven’s ability to maintain their perfect little social order became their downfall as you used it to safely maintain an underground party scene that grew by the week. 

Interestingly, without pressing for it, the pole dancing and aerial dancing scene had exploded since the construction party. If no one had set up equipment or dancers for it, Heavenborns would MAKE equipment and just straight up go for it, leading to a wave of somewhat tasteful performances by both Heavenborns and human souls as they explored explicit performances with gradually sluttier clothing. One of the recent parties you attended, you had to step up your outfit as you were one of the most decently dressed there. Thankfully, your lower level under the black skater dress was a tight playsuit with barely enough lace over the top half to hide anything from the imagination, making a statement about your figure as you worked the audience with dignity and sultry expressions as well as some very questionably appropriate dance moves. Whichever parties you attended, everyone recognised you and celebrated you being there. Your reputation preceded a fucking good party, it seemed. 

Emily and Sir Pentious had stayed well away from your project, aside from checking in every once in a while. They had their own tasks; Sir Pentious was working on a design for mutually-beneficial resources that would be amenable to both demons and angels if the two were going to be living in close quarters. Unsure of where or how this would end up being a possibility, both you and Lilith had agreed on this being an end-goal for the unity and truce between the realms. Whilst heavily drawn towards weaponry, Sir Pentious found he had enjoyed the creativity and engineering he got to apply to this role. He came up with some incredible designs for entertainment, food supply, communications, travel, education and housing. It felt akin to a country on Earth becoming more inclusive of different cultures and disabilities, especially where considerations were being made for the abilities and limitations for many demon-forms in current angelic structures. He would often tell stories from back in Hell while designing, talking Emily’s ear off whenever she came back from the courts. The two had a firm relationship of mutual respect and love for the other’s mind.  

In court, Emily had commandeered an office of her own and a few omnisights for private use. She made it look like she was focusing on studying the angel war and how the resulting chaos had whipped Hell into shape, providing seemingly thorough reports on the latter. In truth, she was using the time with the omnisights to assess areas of weakness and need, looking for areas for Sir Pentious to focus on with his next designs, as well as preparing her own ideas for laws and boundaries which would be safe and beneficial regardless of a soul’s designated afterlife. From what she had seen from the parties in Heaven versus Hell, it had become evident that there was not so much of a difference between the value of the human souls, and certainly not a permanence in their ‘deserving’ of the allocated afterlife; there was potential to grow, to fall, to change. Lilith turned this little phrase into a song, carrying Emily through her long, tiring nights of focus and hard work. 

On the castaway beach where Sir Pentious and Lilith were hidden, Emily had secured an untraceable omnisight and built it into a barely-noticeable beach shack. It appeared unassuming to the outside viewer, just another shed-like building next to its according beach hut. Inside, Emily and Sir Pentious had built an underground tunnel to get from one of the further away huts into the shack unseen. There, through the night she was able to watch over Hell and its citizens without interruption or getting caught caring about the poor souls, as well as being able to monitor the superior angels’ movements. 

She had a well-documented mind map and flow chart of the suspicious activities, managing to identify a group of angels in the Dominion level that had their own secrets. She was able to slip an anonymous invitation to one of them, specifically the one she had caught on the omnisight railing three lines of coke in a row. It invited him to an underground table show, with the utmost discretion, promising a wild night in exchange for the use of his private pool the next day. In truth, they had no need for the pool, it was just something easily achievable as a favour to make it seem to the Dominion angel that it was a fair exchange. It worked out rather well, as the rumour of a wild underground fiesta had swiftly captured the attention of an entire ring of pleasure-seekers from Dominion, Archangels and Virtues that Emily had no idea about. 

That was the most spectacular party yet, initially starting in a movie theatre, then expanding to a meteor-lit planet with ambient music and reduced gravity as the ‘higher-ups' cranked it up a notch using their abilities. 

Having these angels on your side changed the entire game. They were frighteningly more capable of controlling the crowd, preventing incidents whilst also encouraging drugs and debauchery that would make Hell proud. They would often attend in disguises, so their status but not their identity was known as they blended with the lower levels of angel hierarchy. 

Soon enough, you only ever attended the parties for your own fun, as well as to keep the energy going if it started to wane in a certain subset of entertainment.  

You were able to take a step back as the infectious party scene thrived and grew, coexisting within multiple layers of angelic order. You could have even sworn you recognised a Seraphim, or at least very well-dressed Throne. It was amazing to watch dissent that ran this deep rule against what Heaven portrays. The souls, Heavenborn and human alike, were freeing themselves from the bounds of perfection, and it was beautiful. 

[ajqwrites]

COD: Modern Warfare Reboot (Under Siege - Book 1)

October 2024

John was on high alert as his boots scraped softly against the cobblestones, guiding the path through the dark alley. 

He could smell the dank, fetid odor that seemed to cling to the very walls around them. The cold October air bit at his skin, but he barely felt it. Years of training had honed his focus to a razor-sharp edge, leaving no room for distractions.

Soap and Gaz fanned out behind him like well-oiled machine, each moving in complete silence.

He stilled his mind, focusing his thoughts.

He visualized their route based on the maps he and his team had studied earlier today. Two more turns and they would reach the nondescript door that was their destination.

Use your head and not your heart, son.

Her advice echoed in his thoughts. He was aware that this decision could paint him as a selfish bastard, but he wasn't concerned about others' perceptions.

He had to keep in mind that this was his mission, not about Charlie. 

Or was it?

"Bravo-Six to Alpha-One, we're clear. No sign of civilians," he said gruffly in his quiet tone as he keyed his radio.

"Roger that, Bravo-Six. Engage at your discretion," Gabby said in her cool and collected in response.

Dressed in his fitted black hoodie and a dark beanie, along with a charcoal-gray combat jacket that had extra padding on the shoulders and forearms.

The jacket featured deep pockets where he stored extra ammunition, a multi-tool, and a combat knife at his hip. His legs were fitted in dark jeans, and his sturdy boots made almost no noise against the pavement. He always has a comms earpiece and is ready to respond through the channel at a moment's notice.

John had always preferred the practical over the flashy, and tonight was no exception. Dark, muted colors he preferred. Tools he knew inside and out. If things went south, he was ready.

Soap moved beside him, equally prepared but sporting his style. He wore a black tactical hoodie beneath a lightweight combat vest, which was loaded with magazines and decoy grenades—choices he made since this operation wasn't as serious for tonight.

His dark cargo trousers were scuffed at the knees, and his boots were laced tightly for speed. Soap carried his preferred HK MP5 SD with the suppressor attached to the end.

With an added combat knife strapped to his thigh as a backup for close encounters. His messy mohawk peeked out from beneath a black beanie, and despite the missions, he always made him look comfortable.

"You look like you're about to break into a house, Soap," Gaz had quipped earlier.

Soap had only grinned.

"Aye, if you need someone to kick the door open, that's Price for ya. But tonight, I'll need to focus," Soap said. "Still, you look sharp, Gaz."

"Not all of us want to look like an extra from Ocean's Eleven," Gaz said calmly but with a slight lip curled at the end.

He wore an all-black tactical jacket with a support vest underneath, and his sleeves were rolled up to showcase his gloves as he held his SIG P320 X. His appearance was neat and streamlined, featuring cargo pants designed for speed and boots instead of bulky gear. A thin communication line ran from his earpiece down to the compact radio clipped to his belt.

The men had moved to the entrance of the apartment building after John entered at ease. Gabby mentioned that Harkin's apartment was located above the fourth floor, so they took the stairs. The building looked almost rundown, making it safe to conclude that no one would question or catch them, as the few witnesses around would likely be asleep.

Above them and far behind, on a rooftop across the street. Simon—Ghost—loomed over the scene from his overwatch position. His eyes were focused through the scope of his rifle, scanning the area below.

From his vantage point, he wore dark gear with an added tactical combat vest reinforced at the knees and elbows, allowing him to blend seamlessly into the night. His AX-50 sniper rifle rested on the ledge before him, its long barrel fitted with a suppressor.

Every piece of his gear, from his gloves to his boots, was designed for dark stealth. The skull mask he always wore gave him a menacing appearance, as if he had come straight from a nightmare.

From his bird's-eye view, Soap and Gaz followed John from behind as they entered.

"I've lost visual contact. You're on your own now," Ghost said.

"Keep an eye on the perimeter and ring us if Harkin approaches," John said through the radio.

Inside, they moved quickly and quietly until Soap reached the front. With his lock-pick kit in hand, he dropped to one knee beside the rusty door and leaned in to work on the lock.

"Give me ten seconds, Cap," Soap muttered as he worked the lock.

John gave him a curt nod and continued looking out until Gabby's voice crackled softly through their earpiece.

"I have visuals on my screens and access to the CCTV," Gabby reported, sitting alone in the white van where Ghost was also present outside. "You're clear for now."

"Rog," Gaz replied.

"If anyone poke their heads out, I'll say hello," Ghost said coolly.

Gabby giggled quietly.

Finally, with a faint click, the lock gave way, and Soap gave a triumphant grin.

"Easy as pie," Soap said, picking himself up before pushing the door open to enter the dark interior.

The lights came on as John flicked the switch, revealing the apartment he had expected. The dingy space felt like a cheap place to live with mismatched furniture. A worn-out couch sagged in the center of the room, its fabric faded and fraying at the seams.

The rugs beneath his feet were threadbare, their vibrant colors long faded to dull grays and browns, as if they had absorbed years of neglect. The air was thick with a stale odor, a mix of mildew and something faintly sweet.

This was a space meant for hiding—a refuge for those needing a place to crash or sleep or drink or whatever the hell Harkin uses this space for.

"Move," John ordered, stepping inside first, his pistol raised as he scanned the room.

With his hand rested on the grip of his M1911, his thumb brushing the safety instinctively. This sidearm wasn't just a weapon; it was his trusted companion, one he'd carried through countless missions. The M1911 was a classic. A .45 ACP, its weight in his hand, was his friend.

The single-action design, precision, and stopping power made it a weapon John preferred over modern sidearms.

Where others might choose a polymer-framed pistol for speed or convenience, John valued the solid reliability of the M1911. With a suppressor on the barrel, he had added a measure of caution, a much-needed for a quiet infiltration like this. He liked how the gun felt like an extension of himself—balanced and lethal; it was one he'd chosen and carried through years of service.

When younger soldiers mocked its old-school design, he'd simply show them what it could do. Every time he pulled the trigger, it reminded him of his roots, where he'd come from, and the lessons he'd learned along the way. It wasn't about having the newest weapon but knowing the one you had inside and out.

John moved silently, his footsteps muffled by the worn carpet. He kept the M1911 steady, his finger resting just outside the trigger guard.

Soap moved to the right, checking the kitchen area, while Gaz swept left toward a small living room and then moved to the laundry room. John stayed in the center, eyes scanning every corner and darkened nook.

"This place is a shithole," Soap muttered in comment.

"I'm not here, but Soap, try not to touch everything like a toddler in a toy store. I'd rather not have your fingerprints in some police report tomorrow." Gabby said.

Soap snorted. "That's what gloves are for."

"Not when you're leaning on shit like it's your gran's house," she deadpanned.

"Focus," John said sharply through the earpiece to Soap and Gabby before switching the channel to Ghost. "Ghost, we're inside. Keep us posted on any movement outside."

"Copy," Ghost said. "No sign of Harkin yet, but I've got eyes on the window where you are."

"Heard," John said before continuing to sweep the apartment. His gaze flicked over the mess of papers on a nearby table of what he assumed was Harkin's bedroom. The remains of empty food takeout containers scattered across the floor. But none of it caught his attention.

"Find anything that gives us intel on Harkin," he ordered gruffly through his comms.

"Roger, Cap'n," Soap obeyed.

Using his small flashlight attached to his combat vest, John moved toward the messy desk and searched through the piles of papers. His mind wandered back to the intel Laswell had sent him. Something had been off—vague, cryptic references to arms deals in the area but no concrete information. John had been suspicious, but the pieces began to click into place now that they were here.

Outside the bedroom, Soap crouched by a battered wooden crate tucked in the corner of the coat closet he had opened. He lifted the lid slightly, and his eyes widened as he glanced inside before pushing the button at his ear.

"Price, I've got something here."

John heard and moved out the bedroom to find Soap crouched down and took a look with him. Inside the crate was a small arsenal of weapons—military-grade, clean, and clearly meant for more than just personal defense.

His stomach twisted.

"Fuck," John cursed through his gritted teeth.

This wasn't just a small-time arms deal. These weren't just for street thugs looking to sell out these illegal weapons. These were meant for more organized operations. He had seen weapons like these before, in places where insurgencies would use them for revolutions.

"What is it?" Gaz asked, coming up beside them, his eyes scanning the crate's contents.

John didn't answer right away. He was putting the pieces together in his mind, Laswell's vague intel flashing through his thoughts. The arms deal. The cryptic messages. It was all starting to make sense now.

"Harkin is involved in an arms trade," John said, his voice laced with grim realization. "These aren't street weapons. Someone's supplying him, and it's not local."

Gaz's eyes widened. "Fucking hell. What's the plan now?"

John's mind raced. If Harkin was dealing with weapons like these, it meant there was a player in the game—someone with connections who wanted these weapons on the street.

"We need to find out more about the lead, Rich," John began, his voice stern and controlled. "Anything that ties him as a main supplier. We need names and locations. Gabby, are you getting it on your end?"

"I'm pulling up, stand by." Her voice came through a second later. "He's been in contact with a few known associates in the arms trade, but nothing concrete yet."

John stood up, his eyes scanning the rest of the room. Her voice returned through their earpieces.

"Harkin's been in contact with some known arms dealers, but no local," she explained, typing audibly through the channel. "His messages reference shipments, but there's a delay in the payout—like he's still waiting on confirmation from the middleman, aka, second-in-command chain before shipping it to the main supplier."

Soap then moved and picked up the stacks of papers on the coffee table. He was rifling through them, his brow furrowed in concentration before turning to John over his shoulder.

"I found something here. I don't know what the fuck it is, but it looks like some kind of ledger."

John moved quickly to Soap's side, scanning the document through his small flashlight (still on). It was filled with names, numbers, and symbols—likely coded, meant to disguise the true nature of the transactions. But John recognized the format. It was the kind of account book used in the black market to track sales without leaving a paper trail.

"Harkin has been keeping track of the shipments," John pointed out.

"Supply chain?" Gaz guessed.

"It must be."

"Which means Harkin's has experience in logistics, given by his job experience working in supply chain retail company before being laid off. Groping somebody's ass and being an asshole with egoistic mindset. He's a pawn in this arrangement," Gabby stated. "Someone bigger is pulling the strings."

"Then we cut the strings," John said firmly. "First, we take Harkin. Then we find out where the thread leads."

Before they could say more, Ghost's voice crackled through the comms. "Heads up. I've got movement outside. Harkin's coming back, and he's not alone."

His heart rate spiked, but he kept his voice calm. "How many?"

"Four men, five total," Ghost replied, his tone measured. "Few are armed. Looks like they're heading your way."

Shit.

John exchanged a quick glance with Soap and Gaz. They didn't have much time.

"Alright, we're moving out. Now." John ordered in his hard tone. "Ghost, keep your eyes on them. We'll slip out through the fire escape and regroup."

"Copy."

As they move, they slip out the window to the balcony stairs and move down swiftly. The alley behind the building was narrow and cluttered, a maze of garbage bins and dimly lit street lamps.

John's mind was running at full speed, calculating their next move. They had the intel, but now they needed to get out without causing a full-blown confrontation.

"Ghost, where are they?" John spoke into his comms, scanning the alley for an escape route.

"Harkin headed inside, possibly going upstairs to his space. You've got a ten seconds." Ghost said. "I've got eyes on four players. If you're quick, you can make it before they spot you."

"Move," John ordered, signaling the Sergeants to trail him further until they landed on their feet from the fire escape stairs. They moved silently, but as they neared the corner, the sound of footsteps coming from the opposite direction caught their attention.

His muscles tensed, instincts firing as one of Harkin's men rounded the corner. One of the thug barely had time to register what was happening before John closed the distance between them. His fist came up in a clean arc, connecting squarely with the man's jaw, dropping him to the ground with a thud. The man was out cold before he even hit the pavement.

"Ghost, we've got company!" Soap keyed into his radio as more footsteps echoed through the alley, faster now—closer.

Fucking hell! 

John growled as he pulled his sidearm, ready for what was coming next.

"I'm on it," Ghost said quickly, and they could hear the faint click of a sniper rifle being positioned far from the rooftop.

Seconds later, two more of Harkin's men appeared at the far end of the alley. But, one last of the thug immediately spotted John and the others, his weapon raised as he prepared to open fire. But before the last thug pulled a trigger, aiming at John.

Ghost's rifle cracked through the night, the sharp thwack of a bullet whizzing through the air.

The last man went down, clutching his shoulder, his weapon clattering to the ground. The other thug, who was knocked out from John, barely had time to react when he picked himself up and another shot rang out, this one hitting his chest, sending him crashing to the pavement.

"Targets down," Ghost said in his usual calm tone. "Non-lethal. They're still breathing."

"Is that some CIA shit you got from Laswell before?" Gaz asked.

"What do you think?" Ghost said blankly as if the answer was obvious.

"I can never understand how non-lethal shit is still useful," Gaz commented on it.

"Some of us don't enjoy leaving a trail of corpses behind everywhere we go, Garrick." Ghost's voice crackled back through their radio, "I know that's hard for a man of your subtlety to understand."

Soap snorted from his position, glancing over at Gaz. "Subtlety—aye, that's a new one for you, mate."

Gaz rolled his eyes, his hands tightening on his pistol. "I'm plenty subtle when I need to be."

"Right," Ghost shot back, his voice dripping with annoyance. "And that time in Morocco when you tripped over a goat and knocked over a market stall? That was real covert work. MI6 should be proud."

"Oh, shit! I forgot about the goat!" Soap's face beamed, and he almost chuckled when he glanced at Gaz.

"It wasn't my fault!" Gaz gritted his teeth, shooting a glare toward the rooftop further as if he knew where Ghost was perched, though Gaz couldn't see it. "The damn thing ran right into me!"

"Keep tellin' yourself that." Ghost said, unconvinced.

"Alright, cut the chatter," John interjected, his eyebrows furrowed. "We've got a job to do, and the last thing I need is you boys arguing about goats and shit."

"He started it," Ghost said, his tone suddenly professional.

"Fuck you," Gaz replied back with a scoff.

John ignored the rumbling from Gaz after he exhaled.

Ghost had done what he'd needed him to: take them down without killing them and allowing the authorities to find out who did it. Neither do they want to be thrown into jail for that without a clearance. But just as they were about to escape, Harkin appeared at the mouth of the fire escape from his window. His face twisted in anger as he spotted his injured men on the ground.

"You broke into my fucking space!?" Harkin spat. His eyes locked on John below, and a scowl flickered across his face for a split second.

"Well, it's nice to meet you again," John lifted his gaze and said casually, but his tone was stern. "But I would like to chat with you."

Harkin growled back before he gets himself down from the escape. And when he rushed down before landing on his feet, he stalked toward him.

"You've got some nerve showing your face here after what you pulled," Harkin snarled.

"I'm just here to talk," John said evenly. "No need for things to get messy."

Harkin let out a harsh laugh.

"Bit late for that, don't you think?" He gestured at his men lying unconscious on the ground. "You should have thought about that before you decided to snoop into my business."

John met his glare steadily. "Your business? You mean illegally selling weapons to the highest bidder? That tells me a lot about you in one night."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Harkin demanded. "You special forces types are all the same. Think you can police the whole damn world?"

"Maybe someone has to," he said casually in return.

Before Harkin opened his mouth, John was faster as his fist connected right at his nose to his face. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and Harkin doubled over, gasping for breath before picking himself up. John swung again, landing a solid punch to Harkin's jaw. The young man staggered backward, dazed, before dropping to the ground.

Soap and Gaz watched behind as John stepped forward and lifted Harkin by the shirt collar, pulling him close.

"You should've picked a safe job instead of this," John hissed, his nose flared while his icy blue eyes stare coldly at the young man. "This could've gone different if money wasn't your motivation."

Harkin's eyes were glazed. When his mouth twitched to say something, but John swung one last time as his fist connected to his face, making his unconscious body drop to the ground with a dull thud.

John inhaled and exhaled hard through his nose as the adrenaline began to subside. With Harkin unconscious at his feet, his mind had to became clear.

"Cap'n, you good?" Soap asked, stepping up behind him. His eyes scanned the alley for any remaining threats.

"I'm fine." John flexed his fingerless gloves as the tension in his body slowly ebbed away.

"What do we do with him?" Gaz joined them and asked.

His mind was already moving to the next step. They had what they came for. The intel was in their hands, and Harkin was out cold.

"Take him," John commanded.

Soap grinned, clearly pleased with the outcome. "Looks like this guy's in for one hell of an interrogation."

"Agree." Gaz glanced at Soap before looking at the unconscious figure.

In his mind, John had everything he'd found tonight—the weapons, the ledger, the confirmation that Harkin was involved in something much bigger than he'd expected.

"Ghost," John said into his comms. "We've got Harkin."

"Copy that," Ghost replied, his Manchester accent rumbling through their earpieces. "I'm two clicks away from exfil. Out here."

"Soap, Gaz, pick'em up. We're going back to the van." John ordered before he began walking away.

Soap groaned as he grabbed Harkin under the arms, the dead weight of the unconscious man proving to be more of a challenge than expected.

"Fucking hell, this guy weighs a ton. What's he been eatin'? Cement bricks?"

Gaz grabbed the legs with his own grunt, adjusting his grip. "I don't know, but I swear he's denser than he looks. This is all you, Soap. You've been slacking at the gym."

"Oi, I'm carrying the hard part!" Soap shot back, his voice strained as they shuffled forward. "You've got the twiggy legs. I've got the shoulders—built for real work."

"Twiggy legs?!" Gaz glared at him, adjusting Harkin again as the man's weight threatened to slip. "Keep talkin' and I'll drop this sack of shite and let you carry him solo."

"You think he's heavy? Wait till we're done with him. I can always make him a bit lighter—one way or another." John said harshly, who had been walking a few paces ahead, turned slightly with a frown.

Soap paused mid-step and shot John a wide-eyed look. "Dark as ever, Cap'n. Don't go droppin' him in the Thames just yet."

"Who said anything about the Thames?" John replied dryly before turning away. "I was thinkin' somewhere quieter. More remote."

Gaz muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he struggled to keep Harkin's legs up. "You are a bloody psycho like Ghost."

"And Gabby," Soap added quick.

"You're not wrong," Ghost chimed in through their comms. "But at least you blokes are carrying the bastard. One of you are struggling."

"Cheers," Gaz grumbled. "Any chance you can stop being our backup critic and actually help?"

"Negative," Ghost replied. "I'm leaving overwatch. My grim reaper wife is waiting and I can't risk my sniper rifle carrying itself. You're doin' great, though. Real teamwork."

Soap let out a wheezy laugh. "Gaz, you're gonna need a long soak after this. Maybe even a pint." 

"You boys done bickering? Or do I need to carry him myself?" John turned back over his shoulder, annoyed. 

"Oh, no, no," Soap quickly said, struggling to move faster. "We've got him, Cap'n. Just makin' memories!"

"Memories my arse," Gaz grumbled.

"We're almost to exfil," John cut in and turned his gaze away to the front, his patience thinning. "Ghost, you still got eyes on us?"

"Yeah, and I also got eyes on a bloke down the street looking a little too interested in your direction," Ghost replied casually. "Either he's waiting for a bus or about to get nosy."

"And we know how you feel about nosy people, Bravo Six," Gabby added dryly.

John swore under his breath. "Ghost?"

"Say no more."

A second later, a quiet thwack cut through the night, followed by the distant sound of a body crumpling.

When they left the alley and reached across the road, avoiding being seen by the streetlights. Ghost waited at the extraction point, his back against the white van, he was hugging the rifle on one of his muscled and long sleeved arms. He saw them coming forward before Soap and Gaz dropped Harkin at his feet with a collective groan.

The door of the white van opened as Gabby finally appeared.

"Took you long enough," Gabby remarked, looking down at Harkin's crumpled form. "Thought you were training for the Olympics there."

"Next time," Gaz grunted, rubbing his shoulders, "you can haul that bastard."

"I don't do grunt work," Gabby said flatly. "But me and my hubby offer excellent moral support."

Gaz shot them a glare before kicking Harkin's boot lightly for emphasis. "Still unconscious."

Standing over them all, John took a final glance at Harkin. "He's lucky he's unconscious. Saves him from hearing how much of a pain in the arse he is to carry."

"A-firm," Soap agreed last.

✨Return to Masterlist (RTM)✨

✨Chapter 45✨

👉🏽 Return to Main Post (RTMP) 👈🏽

[m3mjewelgurgaonproperty]

Top 10 Amenities of M3M Jewel commercial investment in Gurgaon: Reimagining Workspaces

Gurgaon’s commercial real estate landscape is evolving rapidly, and M3M Jewel Commercial Property in Sector 25 stands at the forefront of this transformation. Strategically located on MG Road, this project redefines modern workspaces with world-class amenities tailored for businesses, investors, and retail ventures. Whether you’re eyeing M3M Jewel retail spaces or exploring M3M Jewel commercial investment in Gurgaon, here’s a deep dive into the top 10 amenities that make this property a game-changer.

1. Intelligent Office Spaces for New Businesses

M3M Jewel office spaces are created to facilitate technology-enabled business. With super-fast fiber-optic internet, climate control through intelligent automation, and IoT-based security systems, businesses can run smoothly. Not only do these buildings increase productivity but also generate high M3M Jewel lease rental yields by housing premium business tenants.

2. Premium Location on MG Road: Connectivity Redefined

Situated on M3M Jewel Sector 25 MG Road, M3M Jewel is endowed with unparalleled connectivity to the business centers of Delhi, Indira Gandhi International Airport, and NH-48. Being close to metro stations and corporate parks like Cyber City keeps your business at the forefront of accessibility—a factor pushing the price of M3M Jewel higher.

3. Sustainable Design with LEED Certification

Sustainability is the essence of M3M Jewel commercial building Gurgaon. Property is also planned with energy-efficient lighting, rainwater harvesting, and waste management system. Environment-friendly investors like the way green certifications increase long-term M3M Jewel commercial property rate per sq. ft. and lower operating expenses.

4. 24/7 Security and High-Capacity Parking

Goodbye parking nightmares! The M3M Jewel Gurgaon complex boasts 500+ multi-level parking facilities, protected by day-night CCTV surveillance and biometric access. Such facilities are of utmost importance to business houses with a safety-first approach—a USP for M3M Jewel investment advisory experts.

5. Dynamic Retail Zones for Diverse Ventures

From flagship stores to boutique showrooms, M3M Jewel retail units are available for businesses of all sizes. The modular setup is flexible and thus suits the needs of startups as well as brand names. Affordable in Sector 25, M3M Jewel retail price gives entrepreneurs an advantageous edge in the flourishing retail business of Gurgaon.

6. World-Class Conference and Training Facilities

Guests hosting. The complex has world-class conference rooms, auditoriums, and training facilities equipped with the best AV equipment. These areas add tremendous value to businesses that require growth, directly influencing M3M Jewel rental income and tenant retention rates.

7. Wellness Zones: Where Health Meets Productivity

Staff happiness leads to better performance. M3M Jewel office space incorporates wellness centers, jogging tracks, and yoga decks. These elements bring the property to the fore as a well-being workplace—a factor investors underscore in M3M Jewel investment Gurgaon talk.

8. Special Food Courts and Cafes

Starving to succeed? The in-building food courts and cafes offer a variety of cuisines, keeping the clients and employees energized. This building draws companies, thus making the M3M Jewel commercial investment in Gurgaon building even more appealing in Gurgaon's business competitive market.

9. Scalable Power Backup and Maintenance Services

Power outages will not be an issue here. The building is 100% power backed up and has dedicated maintenance staff. For investors looking for M3M Jewel price per sq ft comparison, this reliability means lower tenant turnover and stable cash flow.

10. Investment Consultation and Customized Plans

Lost between lease and buy? M3M Jewel's investment advisory solutions provide customized options if you're looking for retail shops or office spaces. From M3M Jewel price charts to rent predictions, they help you achieve highest ROI on Gurgaon's most profitable business hub.

Why Invest in M3M Jewel commercial investment in Gurgaon Property in 2025?

Rental Yields: Gurgaon commercial rentals have increased 12% YoY, and M3M Jewel Sector 25 will outperform the market.

Price Appreciation: With infrastructure development all around us, i.e., Dwarka Expressway, M3M Jewel commercial property price per sq. ft. will appreciate 15–18% by 2025.

Retail Boom: Retail business in Sector 25 is booming, and M3M Jewel retail spaces are occupied by F&B, fashion, and tech brands.

Last Words: Lock Your Place in Gurgaon's Business Crown Jewel

M3M Jewel commercial investment in Gurgaon Property is not only an office, but a holding strategy. From the best address on MG Road to world-class amenities, every detail is designed to deliver unparalleled returns. Whether comparing M3M Jewel retail price with competition or comparing M3M Jewel rental yields with competition, this project is the best example of commercial investment in Gurgaon.

Ready to Invest? Get in touch with our M3M Jewel investment advisory team today to discover prices, floor plans, and special offers!

[luxurypropertyservices]

📢Launch Alert | BRIGADE Eternia in Yelahanka | Get Confirmed Allotment | Call 📞+91 956 050 9669 Now🚨

📞 Call Us: +919560509669 📱🟢 WhatsApp Us Now: https://bit.ly/4jMmDoQ 🌐 bit.ly/42Tlben Exclusive Update Brigade Eternia RERA is Here! 🔥 The hottest new launch in Yelahanka, North Bangalore! Still available at pre-launch prices – Submit your EOI now before allocations begin! 🏡 Welcome to Brigade Eternia – The Pinnacle of Luxury Living in Yelahanka, Bangalore! 🏡

Experience luxury at Brigade Eternia, an elite residential enclave by the Brigade Group in Yelahanka. This 14 acre project offers premium Brigade apartments in Yelahanka, boasting cutting-edge design and world-class amenities in New Yelahanka Town. Discover meticulously crafted flats in Yelahanka with strategic positioning, making it ideal for those seeking apartments in Yelahanka Bangalore. Explore a new benchmark for Brigade apartments with this prime offering in Yelahanka New Town Bangalore, a sought-after location for both homeowners and investors of Brigade pre-launch projects in Bangalore. Find your dream home in meticulously crafted Yelahanka apartments with excellent connectivity. ✨ Why Choose Brigade Eternia in Yelahanka? ✅ Prime Location in New Yelahanka Town – Adjacent to RMZ Galleria Mall, offering effortless connectivity to prominent hubs. ✅ Spacious 3 & 4 BHK – Intelligently crafted flats in Yelahanka Bangalore, designed to meet diverse lifestyle preferences. ✅ World-Class Amenities – Boasting a sophisticated clubhouse, swimming pool, landscaped greens, multi-sport courts, dedicated pedestrian pathways, and more. ✅Sustainable & High-Quality Construction – Built with eco-conscious, energy-efficient methodologies ensuring long-term sustainability. ✅ Excellent Connectivity – A 25-minute drive to Kempegowda International Airport, with seamless access to major IT corridors such as Kirloskar Tech Park and Brigade Magnum. 📊 Brigade Eternia Apartment Configurations & Pricing: ▪️3 BHK Apartments – Configurations ranging from 1,600 sq. ft. to 2,250 sq. ft. ▪️ 4 BHK Apartments – Spacious units spanning 2,714 sq. ft. to 2,926 sq. ft. 🏠 Brigade Eternia Amenities – Elevating Urban Living ✅ Luxury Clubhouse & Multipurpose Hall – A perfect setting for social gatherings and recreational activities. ✅ Resort-Style Swimming Pool & Kids’ Play Area – Designed to foster relaxation and enjoyment. ��� Jogging & Cycling Tracks – Encouraging a holistic and active lifestyle. ✅ Expansive Landscaped Gardens & Green Spaces – Creates a serene and environmentally conscious living atmosphere. ✅ 24/7 Security & Uninterrupted Power Backup – Ensuring a secure and seamless living experience. 🎯 Strategic Location Advantages of Brigade Eternia ▪️ Renowned Educational Institutions: Chrysalis High (0.5 km), National Public School (1.1 km). ▪️ Major Business & IT Hubs: Brigade Magnum (4.5 km), Manyata Tech Park (8 km), Kirloskar Tech Park (6.5 km). ▪️ Premier Shopping & Entertainment Centers: RMZ Galleria (0.2 km), Garuda Mall (1.5 km), Mall of Asia (3 km). ▪️ Leading Healthcare Facilities: Sparsh Hospital (2 km), Manipal Hospital (6.5 km). ▪️ Hospitality & Luxury Hotels: Hyatt Centric Hebbal (7 km), Royal Orchid Resort (1.6 km). 🏡 Notable Properties Near Brigade Eternia Brigade Insignia 🌟 Yelahanka – 3 & 4 BHK, 5 BHK penthouses (2,145 - 5,947 sq. ft.) Down By The Water 🌊 Jakkur – 3 & 4 BHK (2,490 - 6,480 sq. ft.) Adarsh Savana 📍 Devanahalli – Plotted development (1,200 - 2,400 sq. ft.) 🎓 Brigade Eternia – A Wise Investment for Discerning Buyers With a legacy of excellence, Brigade apartments in Bangalore are recognized for their substantial appreciation potential, making them a sound investment choice. Owning a home at Brigade Eternia means securing prestigious real estate in Yelahanka New Town Bangalore while embracing an opulent lifestyle. 💼 Who Should Invest in Brigade Eternia? ✅ Families seeking premium Brigade apartments in Yelahanka with generous layouts and premium finishes. ✅ Professionals looking for flats in Yelahanka Bangalore with close proximity to thriving corporate zones. ✅ Astute investors eyeing high-growth Brigade pre-launch projects in Bangalore with impressive ROI prospects. 📞 Contact Us for More Information! 👥 WhatsApp: https://bit.ly/4jMmDoQ 📞 Call: +91 95605 09669 🌐 Visit:bit.ly/42Tlben 📱 Stay Connected for the Latest Updates! 📘 Facebook: https://bit.ly/40mRIqb 📸 Instagram: https://bit.ly/3DYZGhA 💼 LinkedIn: https://bit.ly/3E2dGr4

[m3mparagon57]

Retail and Entertainment Reimagined: What M3M Paragon 57 Offers in Sector 57, Gurgaon

M3M Paragon 57 is a new commercial project located in Sector 57, Gurugram. Considering modern retail and entertainment, it offers a smart mix of high-road destination, food and holiday options. In this blog, we will break major details such as location, layout, pricing, and why it is seen as a good investment - using reliable data from official sources and real estate websites.

Why choose Sector 57?

Great connectivity

The M3M Paragon 57 Retail Investment sits on the corner of the Golf Course Extension Road and the corner of 24-30-meter sector road. It provides easy access to major routes such as Sohna Road, NH -8, and Rapid Metro -it is well connected to shopkeepers and passengers.

Strong residential footfall

With a mixture of mid-limit and premium housing, more than 2 lakh people live in nearby areas. This means that the area already sees good legs traffic, which is great for retail businesses.

What does the project offer?

Project size and design

Built in 1.5 acres, M3M paragon 57 is a four -storey retail plaza. The project is developed by Paryapt Infrastructure and is designed by GPM architects and planners - both are known for quality work.

Different types of units

The project consists of a variety of spaces to suit all types of businesses. Small 200 square feet. Shops up to multiplex spaces over 2,000 square feet. It is ideal for retail stores, restaurants, food courts, entertainment areas and even the studio apartments.

Modern features

The ground floor has better visibility and triple-hit retail outlets for location. The upper levels include open-air walkway, fine-dining restaurant and a multiplex. To make things smooth and convenient, the plaza has multi-level parking and sharp escalators.

Features and Experiences in M3M Paragon 57

Retail features

The M3M Paragon 57 Retail Investment is designed to provide a smooth purchasing and business experience. This includes a large hypermarket on the lower ground, triple-hit shop on the ground floor, landscapped open space, fast escalators and strong security with multi-layered systems.

Entertainment and holiday

To keep visitors busy, the project offers a lot of entertainment options. There is a multiplex on the third and fourth floors, food courts, fine-dining areas, indoor game zone and stylish lounge, making it a ideal mixture of fun and shopping.

essential features

The project is designed for comfort and comfort. It offers adequate parking (both underground and surface-level), full power backup, CCTV surveillance, fire security systems and even long-term studio apartments to support long-term use.

Active resale market

The current listing shows active interest in the project. For example, a 200 -square -foot unit is listed at approximately 49 lakhs, while 500 square feet are located for about ₹ 1.23 crore. This indicates increasing demand in the resale market.

Expert opinion

Real estate expert M3M Paragon 57 as a strong, self-contained commercial destination. Retail and entertainment are seen as a large plus for rented returns and long -term values ​​of rent.

Final thoughts

M3M Paragon 57 is emerging as a solid investment in Gurugram's commercial real estate view. With a great location, with a wide range of unit size, modern features and legal clarity, it is a promising option for those wishing to invest in retail property.

[odyseydesignhosting]

Your Guide to Domain Registration in San Antonio

In today’s digital-first world, having a strong online presence begins with securing the right domain name. For individuals and businesses in San Antonio, domain registration is the first crucial step in establishing a successful online identity. This article will guide you through the importance of domain registration, how to choose the perfect domain, and why selecting a local provider in San Antonio can make all the difference.

What is Domain Registration?

Domain registration is the process of reserving a unique web address (e.g., yourbusiness.com) for your website. This name serves as the gateway to your online presence and is what customers use to find your business on the internet. Without a domain, your website is like a business without a sign—it’s invisible to your audience.

Why San Antonio Businesses Need a Strong Domain Name

For businesses in San Antonio, having a domain name that resonates with the local audience is essential. Here’s why:

Builds Trust and Credibility A professional domain name adds legitimacy to your brand. It reassures customers that your business is established and trustworthy, especially when paired with a local address or keywords like "San Antonio."

Improves Local SEO A domain that incorporates San Antonio-specific keywords (e.g., "bestpestcontrolsanantonio.com") can boost your search engine rankings, making it easier for local customers to find your business.

Establishes Brand Identity Your domain name is a key part of your branding. A memorable and relevant name helps reinforce your business identity and makes it easier for customers to recall.

Competitive Advantage In a bustling city like San Antonio, a good domain can set you apart from competitors. A unique and optimized domain ensures your business stands out in a crowded online marketplace.

How to Choose the Perfect Domain Name

When registering a domain in San Antonio, keep the following tips in mind:

1. Keep it Short and Simple

Choose a domain name that is easy to spell, pronounce, and remember. Avoid overly complicated names or special characters.

2. Use Local Keywords

Including “San Antonio” or related terms in your domain can help target local customers and improve your site’s visibility in local search results.

3. Opt for the Right Extension

While .com remains the most popular choice, you can also consider alternatives like .net, .org, or location-specific extensions like .us.

4. Ensure It’s Unique

Check that your desired domain name isn’t too similar to another business. This helps avoid legal issues and ensures your brand remains distinct.

5. Think Long-Term

Choose a name that reflects your business’s future goals. Avoid trends or slang that may lose relevance over time.

Why Register Your Domain Locally in San Antonio?

Choosing a local domain registration service in San Antonio has unique advantages:

Personalized Support Local providers understand the needs of San Antonio businesses and can offer personalized advice and support.

Community Focus Working with a local registrar helps you connect with other businesses and organizations in the area, fostering valuable community ties.

Faster Service Local providers can often process requests more quickly than global platforms, ensuring you get your domain up and running without delays.

Tailored Solutions San Antonio domain registrars may offer additional services such as local SEO consulting, website hosting, and email setup to streamline your online journey.

Steps to Register a Domain in San Antonio

Search for Availability Use a domain registrar’s search tool to see if your desired name is available. Be prepared with backup options in case your first choice is taken.

Choose a Trusted Registrar Work with a reputable domain registrar, preferably one with experience serving the San Antonio area.

Select Your Plan Most domain registrations are available for one year or longer. Opt for multi-year registration if you want to secure your name for the long term.

Complete the Registration Provide the necessary details and complete your payment to finalize the registration process.

Conclusion

Securing the right domain name is the cornerstone of building your online presence. For businesses and individuals in San Antonio, choosing a local domain registration service provides added benefits, including personalized support, local SEO advantages, and tailored solutions.

Take the first step in growing your online presence by registering your domain today. Whether you’re starting a new venture or expanding an existing one, the right domain will set the foundation for your success.

[piratesexmachine420]

you mention the apollo guidance computer in your bio.

do you have any nerdy fun facts about it?

Thanks for the ask!

It's difficult to convey everything the AGC was, concisely, but here's some highlists:

In terms of size and power, it's comparable to the Apple II, but predates it by 11 years. There are some obvious differences in the constraints placed on the two designs, but still, that's pretty ahead of it's time.

The bare-bones OS written for the AGC was one of the first to ever implement co-operative multi-tasking and process priority management. This would lead problems on Apollo 11, when an erroneously deployed landing radar overloaded the task scheduler on Eagle during the Lunar landing (the infamous 1201/1202 program alarms). Fortunately, it didn't end up affecting the mission, and the procedures were subsequently revised/better followed to avoid the situation ever reoccurring.

Relatedly, it was also designed to immediately re-boot, cull low-priority tasks, and resume operations following a crash -- a property essential to ensuring the spacecraft could be piloted safely and reliably in all circumstances. Many of the reliability-promoting techniques used by Apollo programmers (led by Margaret Hamilton, go women in STEM) went on to become foundational principles of software engineering.

Following the end of the Apollo, Skylab, and Apollo-Soyuz missions, a modified AGC would be re-purposed into the worlds first digital fly-by-wire system. (Earlier fly-by-wire used analogue computers, which are their own strange beasts.) This is, IMO, one of the easiest things to point to when anyone asks "What does NASA even do for us anyway?" Modern aircraft autopilots owe so, so much to the AGC -- and passengers owe so much to those modern autopilots. While there are some pretty well-known incidents involving fly-by-wire (lookin' at you, MCAS), it speaks to the incredible amount of safety such systems normally afford that said incidents are so rare. Pilot error killed so many people before computers hit the cockpit.

AGC programs were stored in a early form of read only memory, called "core rope memory", where bits were literally woven into an array of copper wire and magnets. As a Harvard-architecture machine (programs and variables stored and treated separately), it therefore could not be re-programmed in flight. This would be problem on Apollo 14, when an intermittent short in the LM's abort switch nearly cancelled the landing -- if it occurred during decent, the computer would immediately discard the descent engine and return to orbit. A second, consecutive failure (after Apollo 13) would have almost certainly ended in the cancellation of the program, and the loss of the invaluable findings of Apollo 15, 16, and 17. (These were the missions with the lunar roving vehicles, allowing treks far from the LM.) Fortunately, the MIT engineers who built the AGC found a solution -- convince the computer it had, in fact, already aborted, allowing the landing to occur as normal -- with a bit of manual babysitting from LMP Edgar Mitchell.

Finally, it wasn't actually the only computer used on Apollo! The two AGCs (one in the command module, the other in the Lunar Module, a redundancy that allowed Apollo 13 to power off the CM and survive their accident) were complemented by the Launch Vehicle Digital Computer (LVDC) designed by IBM and located in S-IVB (Saturn V's third stage, Saturn-I/IB's second stage), and the Abort Guidance System (AGS) located in the LM. The AGS was extremely simple, and intended to serve as a backup should the AGC have ever failed and been unable to return the LM to orbit-- something it was fortunately never needed for. The LVDC, on the other hand, was tasked with flying the Saturn rocket to Earth orbit, which it did every time. This was very important during Apollo 12, when their Saturn V was struck by lightning shortly after launch, completely scrambling the CM's electrical system and sending their gimbal stacks a-spinning. Unaffected by the strike, the LVDC flew true and put the crew into a nominal low Earth orbit -- where diagnostics began, the AGC was re-set, and the mission continued as normal.