#he has smoke deflectors now

[tornadoyoungiron]

Traintober | Day 5 - It’s Only Me

Blue Peter breaks down when he realises that he’s the only one of the A2 Peppercorns left and that his best friend and cousin Saint Mungo, never made it to preservation.

TW for suggestions of self-harm, suicide and depression

~~~

The sound of metal grinding against metal rattled in his smokebox as the daylight from outside pierced through the dark musty interior of the shed making him wince in pain and squint against the blinding light. He could hear the voices of men talking as his eyes adjusted to the light.

“Is this the one?” A man’s voice asked nearby and Blue Peter looked down to find a man staring up at him.

“Yes sir, a LNER A2 Peppercorn, the last one,” another man came up behind him with a British Railway pin on his lapel. “He’ll make a fine companion to Bittern.”

The man snorted and shook his head. 

“I would have preferred an A1 Peppercorn but they’ve all been cut up,” the man dismissively waved at Blue Peter.

A chill ran through Blue Peter’s boiler. His cousins… the A1s, no they couldn’t have. 

“My cousins are gone?” Blue Peter suddenly croaked out weakly. “But I thought… Saint Mungo.”

The men looked towards him and a look of sympathy passed on their faces. 

“There was an incident regarding Saint Mungo,” the British Railways man frowned. “He was cut up despite being slated for preservation.”

“A true shame, I would have very much liked to own such a magnificent engine!” The other man declared but then looked at Blue Peter with a critical gaze. “I suppose an A2 will have to do.”

Blue Peter said nothing, still reeling from the news that Saint Mungo was gone. 

Blue Peter didn't know quite how long he had been kept in storage. He wasn't even sure if they remembered him. After all, his last crew had simply parked him in storage and left without even cleaning out his firebox or doing proper procedures to maintain him. 

The thought of maybe seeing Saint Mungo once, even if it was a final goodbye as he was sent for scrap had kept him hopeful, been the one thing that had helped him hang on to hope. 

He was startled from his thoughts as the BR mam snapped his fingers at him to get his attention.

"Pay attention!" The man barked but Blue Peter barely heard him. "Mr. Drury has agreed to purchase you, you should show him thanks and not be rude! Do you want to be sent for scrap, engine?"

"I-" Blue Peter quickly returned his attention to the threat and quickly masked his despair. "Yes sir! I apologise for my rudeness, sir. If you purchase me I shall serve you well!"

The man, Mr Drury, nodded at him. 

"Still seems to have its wits about it, no sign of Cold Iron," he examined before eyeing the nameplate on his smoke deflector. "Blue Peter eh?"

"Yes sir, I am Blue Peter, at your service!" The Peppercorn chirped. 

Mr Drury looked thoughtful for a moment before a wide grin appeared across his face.

"Yes, yes actually that would be perfect!" The man was delighted now. "I have the best idea for how to restore this one!"

"You're going to use the Blue Peter show?" The BR man pointed out and Drury nodded excitedly. 

"It's the perfect way to teach younger generations about an obsolete technology!"

Blue Peter almost guffawed at that. 

Obsolete?  Obsolete! 

He was most certainly not obsolete, no matter how much these humans clung to their disgusting, smelly diesel. Steam engines were one of a kind! They were charming and full of personality!

He kept quiet though and did not voice his displeasure.  He kept his face straight, his tender aligned and his attitude proper. He would rather not be left to rust in this storage shed any longer.

"How about that? You could be a part of the children's television show, Blue Peter, isn't that exciting?" Mr. Drury enthusiastically implored.

It sounded appalling and Blue Peter wanted no part in it. If anyone would have loved it, it would have been Saint Mungo. 

But Blue Peter didn’t want to be scrapped and so he put on his best and most amicable face.

“Yes sir, that sounds incredibly exciting sir, I cannot wait to do my part!” 

Mr. Drury clapped his hands together. 

“Excellent! What a fortunate turn of events, instead of getting A1 I’ve been blessed with an engine that could pay for its own restoration with its name alone,” he exclaimed.

“So you’ll take him?” The BR asked excitedly and Mr Drury nodded enthusiastically.

“I most certainly will my good man!”

“Right! This way sir! I’ll have you fill out the paperwork and then we can organise to get him out of our storage sheds!”

“Excellent, excellent!” Mr. Drury turned back to Blue Peter as he and the man began to leave.

“I trust that you’ll be a good addition, Blue Peter, so rejoice in the fact that you won’t be scrapped!” He told him and Blue Peter managed to muster a pained smile.

“Yes sir, thank you sir!” He gratefully retorted.

Without another word, the two men left and shut him in darkness once again. 

The painful smile Blue Peter had kept up vanished the second that the shed doors closed and he felt tears flow down his face, unable to stop them.

All his siblings, his cousins, they were all gone. They had all left him.

For however many years he had spent wasting away in this shed had only ever been tolerable due to the fact that he may once again see Saint Mungo. Only now, he was to find that something had happened, that Saint Mungo had found himself at the cutter’s torch. 

Blue Peter felt empty, his boiler felt like there was rust creeping into his tubes, his frames felt heavy with grief and aching that he couldn’t quite describe. 

Maybe it would have been more of a relief to be finally hauled out to the scrapyard knowing that his entire family was gone. 

That it was only him left in this cruel dark world.

~~~

[anonymousboxcar]

Murdoch’s glad to receive smoke deflectors that won’t worsen his migraines. He’s less than glad, however, to see Sir Stephen Hatt at the works. Now he has to explain why he avoided telling Sir Stephen about all of this. ———————— I’ve been reading The Extended Railway Series on AO3, and I was inspired to write this small fic about Murdoch and Sir Stephen Hatt.

Thank you to series creator @weirdowithaquill for your permission; I hope it’s to your liking!

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Heavy Harry And The Three Railway Engines (Red And Black Steam On Southern Metals, CW: Some coarse language)

This next one was actually the first RWS-type story outside of Sodor I ever wrote featuring my VR OCs. I was obsessed with the idea that the RWS books did exist within the Island Of Sodor, which is not an uncommon idea in the fandom...

But I don't think anyone did a story where locomotives outside of Sodor and existing in the same reality as Sodor actually read the RWS.

Heavy Harry And The Three Railway Engines

Newport Locomotive Depot and Works, late December 1950

The mighty VR H-Class Pocono H220 “Heavy Harry” has settled in his shed for the night. He has an express passenger train tomorrow to the border town of Albury all the way in New South Wales, the next state over across the Murray River, and needs plenty of rest. He is the largest locomotive built locally in Australia and the largest non-articulated loco in the Southern Hemisphere.

Somehow, it doesn’t really go to his head, probably because he pulls a lot of goods trains as well, overnights to Albury and back (VR seems to give everyone plenty of mixed work, not even the snooty S-classes are above pulling goods trains every now and again). It gives him ample opportunity to show his strength, for no other class of locomotive in Australia is stronger than he.

He is dark and shining in his majesty, painted in standard VR all-black; the imported American bar frames upon which his whole being is built, the pilot out the front and enormous smoke deflectors give him a proud and armored look.

Unlike the suave, stylish S-class Pacifics who are the lords of the fleet; who hid all their machinery under dark blue and gold streamlining, he unabashedly shows off his rugged mechanical lumps and bumps. He needs to be rugged if he is to mount the 1-50 and 1-44 inclines of the North Eastern Line on a daily basis, such as his purpose.

Near him is in the next berth the old fashioned, black VR A2 4-6-0 No 986 “Pluto”, who also pulls passengers, though not as often these days. He’s an older fellow that plays the doddering old man, but he’s sharp and cunning and won’t hesitate to take the piss out of anyone who he thinks is stupid.

“Your driver is coming to tuck you in and give you a kiss, Har’! Has he got a glass of warm milk?” giggles Pluto.

“He might be coming to change your adult nappy, Pluto!” snickers Harry.

“He’d better be dressed all sexy-like in a nurse outfit if he’s going to do that! Give me a sponge bath too! That’d make my night!”

They’re both laughing like crazy by the time Harry’s driver reaches them.

“Ready for bed?” his voice echoes.

“Just settling in, Driver…” says Harry

“Have a squiz at this!” His driver cheerfully, and shows him a tiny yellow book, The Three Railway Engines, “Just published! I bought it to read to me kids! I thought it would be fun to show you, Har’.”

Harry was curious at the little book.

“They have living locomotives in Britain as well?”

“Of course they do!… We’re not the only living ones out there! Its impossible!” barks Pluto.

Driver carefully reads the simple stories and shows up the pictures in front of Harry so he can appreciate them. Their faces are grey, like that of the Australian locomotives, but their classes and types are difficult to discern from the artwork.

Pluto listens in with interest.

“Blimey, Gordon is such a limp prick!” exclaims Pluto.

“That hill looks pissy as! Surely the A3 can’t be as great as they say if it struggles on a little hillock!.. “ snickers Harry.

They go to the next story.

“Pluto, there’s a 4-6-0 in this book!” exclaims Harry.

“Good for him! I hope he’s as splendid as me…” puffs Pluto, then suddenly the sound of snoring came from that berth.

“Heh! Old coot!”

They continue reading the stories.

After finishing the book, Driver asks “What do you think, Har’?”

“I’m not sure…”, Harry is a little uneasy.

“Whats the matter, boy? Don’t you like it?”.

Harry kept flickering his eyes to the side.

“I don’t like the story of Henry getting shut up in a tunnel… I don’t think he deserved his punishment…”, he looks down towards his bufferless footplate.

“He sure deserved his punishment! What a princess! Imagine stalling cuz you’re afraid of a few drops of rain? What a total pillock!” he laughed.

Driver thought it was very funny, but Harry didn’t think so.

“Sir, would you like it if the coppers threw you in jail because you went on strike over something?” he said with uncharacteristic solemnity.

Driver frowned at the realisation. He had joined the strike that year and Harry had struck a nerve.

“Have you been talking to one of the Communist locos, Har’?”

“No! Why? Didn’t you join the enginemen’s strike too? The one we locomotives wholeheartedly supported? And it made things better for everyone? Because that the promises that fucking terrible Pig Iron Bob bloke made didn't come true? ”

“Fair point, Harry… but striking for better pay and conditions is one thing… being silly over paint is another…”

“How do we know he’s being silly over paint? Just because the author said so?

'The stupid newspapers said you were all Communists or puppets of Communists! The other drivers were complaining about it!

‘They made the locos so silly-looking too! Like kiddies and children’s toys! Do they really look this silly in England?” grunted Harry.

“I don’t think these are meant to be literal, Harry…I mean, the paintings aren’t the most accurate depictions of locomotive types.. you can’t even see what classes they’re supposed to be…I mean, Henry’s a 4-6-0 in one picture and a Pacific in another!”

“Pacifics! Feh! Wankers!” yelled Pluto in his sleep ,“Too good for pulling goods eh? Why I oughta take them by the scruff and rub their noses in boiler sludge! ...” , snoring resumes.

“Do you think the Thin Commissioner would come down personally if one of us were to stall in a tunnel just to yell at the passengers, have them try to pull a 200-tonne locomotive with full consist, then lose his temper and brick it up?” asked Harry.

“No, Harry, that would be silly and absurd. But in the book, the Fat Controller is on the train… but I do get your point...”

“That Fat Controller must be a child, if his solution to Henry being silly in a tunnel is to brick him up and leave him there. The board of directors must have been spitting chips at that!”

Driver shrugged, “They’re just stories in a book, Harry. Not a thing to get upset over… I must admit now that you bring it up, it is a bit stupid in the way they seem to run it, leaving a perfectly good engine in his shed… then sending a wholly unsuitable locomotive to do a goods run on a steep hill… then bricking up another one in a tunnel...”

“Anyway Har’, best not think about it too hard… big journey tomorrow! Nighty night!”

Just stories… Harry thought.

And he put his discomfort away, and tried to get some sleep even though Pluto snored like it was going out of fashion.

Here are a couple of true events referred to for context:

Previous to the events of the story, there had been a major strike by the enginemen of the VR for better pay and conditions. Things that were promised to them when the war ended were not given to them. They were exhausted and a lot of the locomotives were in terrible shape because no one could afford to maintain them as often as they should. The railway workers union AFULE called a major strike which lasted for 55 days, and most of their demands were met by the VR.

The "Pig Iron Bob" referred to in the story is Sir Robert Menzies, the arch-Conservative Prime Minister of Australia at the time of the story. He was infamous as Attorney General for letting the sale of raw iron to the Empire of Japan even as it was clear they were allied with the Nazis and were committing atrocities all across Asia, such as the Massacre of Nanking.

The unions and every right-thinking Australian hated this and they refused to load iron on ships bound for Japan:

[infinitysystems]

m ontferrand

[star3xian]

🛠️ - [Redesigned] Flying Scotsman - 🛠️

His Bio: https://toyhou.se/12395152.flying-scotsman

His old design bugged me the hell out since it didn't work with what my AU is currently going towards. The design also fits in with what I had originally in mind and that was to reflect the engine on the design, the smokebox door stayed, but as well got updated instead of four steps it is kept on by two now which should work and calm the design a bit.

From the smokebox, some tubes from the front tubes on the buffer. Their purpose is small but significant to cool down the A3 when he is reaching his top speeds.

His legs also got updated since the old ones seemed to not match up anymore and my mind kinda wanted puffy pants since Hunter/Jäger have them as a trait, along with the paws, the wheel on the joint was more or less taken from Ulrich since I liked the idea of Hunter/Jäger from the 20 - 30 era having those since the skill to make hunters durable wasn't existent and the wheels should help calm everything.

Also like on the V1 design, there are the moving smoke deflectors that I keep since they became a part of the overall anatomy for engines with smoke deflectors.

However, Flying Scotsman also has a tender tail now since that idea left the conceptual stage and is now stable for all my characters.

Another thing that was not visible on the original design was the chimney on the back which it's the purpose I will explain later on when I reworked some of the older characters that I made around mid-2021.

[gundamcalibarney]

[i’ve just got a leeeetter]

Day 1 Prompt: Names and Numbers

Series Featured: TTTE

Central character(s): Tornado

Side note: Please for the love of all that is possibly holy do not interpret this as a Ship.

…

WOOO first Traintober day! now due to the Blackout and other things this is pretty late, this was originally about something else however it ended up not working out (i didn’t like the first draft). and then this went through a SECOND draft but that Also didn’t work out.

All Traintober days will possibly vary in length, content, and also release because uh motivation.

…

/🚂✨💨/

When you were famous, it was expected for Everyone to know your name, Tornado is aware of this.

Sure, they were an operational Steam locomotive built in the 21st century, and then went on to become a celebrity because of that, going to many rail celebrations (and making new friends along the way!).

There were times where they couldn’t really understand the hubbub around them, all the people flocking to their every appearance with a camera in hand. Bit strange they thought.

Tornado never really understood why.

(rest of the story below the readmore)

2012

One day, they had received a letter from an “S.G”, Tornado had asked who this S.G was but the most they got was a “You’ll meet him eventually!” or something else.

Come the NRM’s rail festival and well, nothing came of it besides getting a new friend in Sir Nigel Gresley as well as the other engines they managed to talk to at the event. After a bit of thinking, they asked the A4 a question,

“Say you’re named Sir nigel Gresley right?”

“i do not like the lack of emphasis on the Nigel but yes that’s my name, it’s molded on my nameplate see!” Nigel smiled proudly.

“oh i can kind of see that.” Tornado notes, despite the fact that their smoke deflectors do not allow for left or right vision.

“But why do you ask Tory?”

“Well,” Tornado took a deep breath, “Did you happen send a letter of any sort? y’know a written one, in cursive, and y’know now that i’m listening to you, you Would be the kind of engine to sound so somewhat-er dramatic.”

Nigel let out a gasp, “Nonsense! i can’t write!”

“I Know that but did you have someone write it out for you and then decided to send it to me?” Tornado continued.

The dark blue A4 hummed to himself, “i don’t really remember sending anyone Anything, but i now i Do sort of want to now.”

Days after the Rail festival they received a signed picture of the dark blue A4 named after a deceased LNER chief engineer.

Tornado didn’t know how to feel about it.

/🚂✨💨/

For the next few years they and S.G had become pen pals of sorts, usually sending each other messages about recent events and what not.

By 2016, after their 100 mile run, they received a parcel, one that contained a blue “You did a Hundred miles!” ribbon and another letter,

Tornado, i’m Proud of your run!

you have really outdone yourself after that speed limit race with a car and a motorcycle on television and you’ve probably made records by now!

Unfortunately this letter is less well written because i am Very tired right now but Just know that you did Amazing despite the few slow downs

I hope to meet you in person one day to give you a more personal congrats.

S.G

Tornado couldn’t help but let out an offended snort at the speed limit race with a car and a motorcycle on television line, but that

2017

They’ve heard of a famous engine called the Flying Scotsman, everyone and every engine would immediately go into what they call “hype person mega fan” mode whenever the engine was brought up.

and now this some engine is getting talked about a Lot as of recent, Tornado wondered why they haven’t been told much about him beyond “oh he’s hidden at the NRM for reasons.” with a smile that to the new build clearly for other reasons.

This Flying Scotsman has also recently started running again after a long overhaul and has existed since 1923, what stories they’ll possibly bring must certainly be interesting ones!

The thought mostly stuck as they stopped at Barrow Hill, it looked the same as before, just with more diesels and a lack of a blue duck.

a whistle that sounded like a shrill Banshee filled the air, Tornado yelped at the sound.

“Scared you didn’t I friend?” a voice teased.

Soon an engine rolled up, bearing the same 60163 on their tender as them and the same configuration as them. Not that Tornado could see that since their blinkers were in the way.

“Do i know you?”

“Oh you do, but you’ve most likely been Told about me, being stuck in a room is Rarely fun without anyone to talk to!”

“…what.”

there were a few murmurs, “Does S.G ring any bells hm?”

oh

oh

Chuckles from the crew filled the relatively quiet air as Tornado sat there in silence as the famous engine who shared their number laughed.

[prongsisabadger]

TWP Chapter 22

Ahsoka was already scouting ahead, so it was her who set the bombs that would burst the lab hatches open. She would enter the lab from her position on the ground and both her team and mine would make an airborne entrance. When we had boarded the gunships on Theed, Rex had joked about seeing me more often than he did his brothers on the 212th or the 104th, which was pretty accurate. "We might have to add some blue to that armour of yours if you keep this up, Commander." Later I found out he hadn't been entirely joking.

The pilot opened the blast doors and a few seconds later, the ground in the swamp beneath us shook with the force of three explosions. It was dark and the woods around the area lit up for a few seconds before the smoke covered it all up.

I jumped off the LAAT/i and into the open hatch, landing on a seamless squat with the aid of the force so as not to injure my legs. I turned my lightsaber on and started to intercept enemy fire as the rest of Ahsoka and I's squad rappelled down the opening. We were in the middle of a corridor, so both of us padawans took position on opposite sides in order to shield the troops. The lab was more heavily defended than we had originally expected. It was counterintuitive to have so many battle droids in a Republic aligned planet such as Naboo. Especially in Naboo.

The system was one of the most notorious defenders of peace within the Galactic Senate, to target such a political presence in the eyes of the galaxy was bold. But there was no time to consider the political implications of the lab's placement. The CIS had gone too far when they decided to resort to biological warfare. They were trying to leave the Republic, fine, but there was no reason to kill hundreds of thousands of life forms because of it. We were not going to let that happen.

The plan was going smoothly. Ahsoka, our troops and I had managed to gather the attention of almost all the lab's security personnel. We were taking the brunt of the defense, true, but that meant Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi could carry out their own missions without having to worry about battle droids.

The thing about close quarters fighting is that it's rather restrictive by nature. There is no place for maneuvering or taking cover, or getting a little creative with one's attack. And in such circumstances, numbers often have the upper hand, especially if those numbers don't have the disadvantage of being irreplaceable life forms. Normal battle droids in big numbers were annoying enough, SBD's were a nuisance no one wanted to deal with, but Droidekas? yeah those were a problem. Their deflector shields were bad enough in open combat where you could sneak past them if you were stealthy enough, but in close quarters? Bad news.

The rolling balls of death rounded the corner like a clunking stampede of metal boulders. I cursed underneath my breath and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course they had Droidekas in this Force Forsaken lab.

"'Soka! I won't fit," I yelled, "You jump, I'll throw you!"

"On three!" she answered, "Rex, take care of these for a second."

"Boil, lay cover fire!" I instructed. "THREE"

"Two!" returned Ahsoka as she turned her saber off and got ready to jump.

"Go!"

Ahsoka ran the couple of meters that separated her from me and jumped. I force pushed her in order to get above and across the destroyers. The gap between the droids and the ceilings had been too narrow for me to do it, so we had to make do. Ahsoka was agile, flexible, small and light, she was the perfect person for the job, and she was skilled. With all the training and natural ability of a Torguta she landed on one of the droids and turned her saber on, right on top of its head. The first one went down. I ran forward to draw the second droid's attention while Ahsoka repeated the process. Behind us, our squad finished turning the other battle droids into scrap metal. We were done, for now.

"Report." I said as I turned to my team and reached out into the Force to sense for any signs of pain or distress on any of the men. There were.

"Ginger is dead, T.H. was shot but is still able bodied," Said Waxer "Captain Rex is also down two men, Commander"

I sighed defeatedly before turning to my wounded trooper. He would never let anyone know, but he was in quite a lot of pain. His shoulder had been hit by a blast that ricocheted on one of the corridor surfaces. I wanted him to retreat, to get him out of there and to safety before his injuries started to work against him. But I couldn't. I needed him, we all did. We had lost more men than we could afford and we still needed to reinforce the other two squads. I also knew he would have never let me do it. He was a clone trooper of the 212th and he would rather die fighting than let his team die in his stead. He was no coward. None of them were.

"How are you doing T.H.?"

"It's just a scratch, Commander. I'll be good to go once I bandage it."

"Good man, take a breather and rest a few minutes, we'll be moving out soon." I said before crouching down in front of him. "I'm sorry I can't get you clear. I need you, I need all of you."

T.H. looked up at me, I couldn't see his face behind the helmet, but I could feel his surprise, the way his chest felt lighter, the way he felt like he could take on the entire CIS army by himself. His CO needed him. His CO cared for his safety but she needed him. He would not abandon his CO.

"Don't worry about me, Commander," he said with conviction. "We'll take this damn lab and complete the mission. You'll see."

I patted his healthy shoulder twice and smiled at him before standing up.

Ahsoka was talking to Rex behind us, the Force moved slowly around them and in Rex's case it felt almost viscous, stagnant, like he wasn't affected by the pain and turmoil. I knew better, and so did Ahsoka. We ordered the fallen troopers extracted by the team above ground, they would be given a proper funeral after this was all over.

"Rex, 'Soka, whatchu guys have for me?" I said approaching them.

"General Kenobi has made it safely to the storage room and is helping disable the bombs. They are almost done," said Rex as he pulled up the lab's geoscan that we had been provided with. "General Skywalker has found the hostages and is engaged with Doctor Vindi as we speak."

"We should reinforce him." Said Ahsoka.

I touched my hand to my chin as I thought about our dilemma. Help Skywalker with the hostage situation or help Master Kenobi defuse the bombs?

"Hostage situations are tricky," I started. "stepping in during negotiations could be very detrimental to the whole effort. If Vindi has something to threaten Skywalker with, odds are, he can do the same to us. I think we should let Skywalker deal with it."

"Our men are trained to defuse bombs, but none are as good as the ones with General Kenobi. I think we would be getting in the way if we decided to go help them." Commented Ahsoka.

"Commander, if I may…" said Rex and waited until I nodded to proceed. " We should secure all known exits to the lab so that no one can get out. That way we prevent the virus from leaving the facility and scrap any droids that want to escape."

I smirked at him before raising an eyebrow at Ahsoka. Rex was a good soldier, yes, but he was also more than just that, and he continued to show me so every time I saw him.

"Rex, old boy, you are the best." smiled my friend, "We would need to split up in order to cover all exits, and there aren't many of us left."

"Then we make the best of it. Rex, you take Waxer and Boil, stay here and man the southern hatch; Ahsoka, take Nax to the eastern one; T.H will come with me to the northern hatch. Nothing gets out." I said while pointing at the holo map Rex had been holding. "May the Force be with us, Pals."

Ahsoka nodded to me before setting off and Rex nodded, turning to the men he would be working with and starting to give out orders. I returned to where T.H. was seated and offered him my arm. He took it and stood up with little effort. He had taken a bacta shot, he said.

"I would have left you here with Rex but this is where I expect the most fire," I explained. "So you'll be coming with me, trooper. I'll have your back."

He tried moving his injured shoulder a little as if to stretch the muscle. He was in pain, there was no denying that, it didn't matter how good he was at hiding it.

"You don't have to coddle me, Commander." He returned. "Injured or not, I can keep up and have your back just as well. You can count on me."

I smiled honestly at his visor.

"I know I can."

…

T.H. was on the lookout as I tampered with the hatch controls. If anyone or anything managed to get past us, I wanted to make sure they didn't escape. Thus, hardwiring the hatch controls to remain closed and booby trap the thing so that if anyone tried to override it, they'd get a nasty surprise, and their faces blown to pieces. The lab's corridors weren't exactly soundproof, so every once in a while, the distant echoes of a blaster fight made its way to us. The situation was not ideal. If battlegrounds were stressful because of the chaos, then this was stressful due to the uncertainty of it all. We had no idea how close to letting a virus lose we were. We had no Idea if everybody else was okay, even with signals not jammed. We had no Idea how many more droids -battle droids or otherwise- were left in the facility. If you asked any of us about the status of the situation, the answer would most likely be "fuck if I know". But what was important was that we had given ourselves something to do, and all we had to do was accomplish it. When in distress, give yourself something to do.

"How are things going down there, T.H.?" I asked, rolling my shoulders from the strain. I'd had my arms up towards the hatch for over twenty minutes and they were starting to hurt.

"Clear, Commander." Answered the clone. "We have comm chatter though. Hostages are secure but the doctor is attempting to escape and Skywalker is in pursuit... -" he stilled for a second as if to listen to the radio more carefully. "General Kenobi is moving to intercept, his team is done defusing the bombs."

A relieved sigh escaped me without consent. We weren't about to die of an incurable disease. I finished the job regardless. Even when we caught Vindi, there would be droids and possibly other personel trying to escape, we needed to make sure none were left free to roam Naboo once everything was over.

"Good, I want to get out of here as soon as possible," I said placing the control panel over the wires once again and clicking it in place. "I don't think the humidity on the planet agrees with me."

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober No.5

A cargo box slithered past Rios, and sparks flew from the navigational control as La Sirena took another hit. The ENH flinched but stoically remained at his post. The hull of the ship shuddered. From the lower deck, the smell of molten plastic and hot metal wafted onto the bridge.

“Chesumadre!”

Cursing, Rios furiously worked the controls and eased the rocking ship back into balance while letting it perform a backward flip.

“Emmet! Torpedos! Ahora!”

A screen to his left flickered and died, but, muttering something unfriendly in Spanish, the Emergency Tactical Hologram ignored it. He pushed a series of buttons and stared out the bridge’s panoramic window with unusual alertness. The large Beltranian cruiser that had attacked them was right in front of them now, it’s warp drive within Sirena’s tactical sights.

“Emmett!”

The ETH patiently waited for the holographic crosshairs to lock - and fired. A ball of flames bloomed at the hostile ship’s rear, and the shockwave slammed into La Sirena before Rios could glide his damaged ship out of the danger zone. Alarms blared.

“Ean!” Rios barked into the com. “Is the warp drive still online?”

“Aye, captain,” the engineering hologram responded, voice crackling with static interference, “but I cannae say how much longer. Core temperature is reaching critical levels.”

“Copy that,” Rios responded, biting down on his cigar with fierce determination. “Enoch! Set a course to CentraX343, zeta quadrant!”

“Aye, sir!” In spite of the tense situation, the navigational hologram looked disturbingly thrilled. His fingers flew across his controls.

“Course set and locked, captain.”

In front of them, the cloud of smoke cleared, and the Beltranian ship, somehow still functional, was turning and opening its torpedo launch hatches.

“Caram- Maximum warp!” Rios shouted. “Everybody hold on!”

The ship seemed to freeze for a moment, alarms and hissing sparks and the heat of fire somehow suspended in time, and then Rios was pressed into his seat as the warp drive propelled them into a different corner of the galaxy.

When they slowed, Rios barked at the ETH: “Emmet! Any hostile activity?”

“No. Nada. Estamos solos.”

“Bueno.” Rios exhaled. He pushed out of his Captain’s chair, looking around at his worse-for-wear ship. “Enoch! Damage report!”

The ENH checked his screen with flying fingers. Even over his shoulder, Rios could see several of the readings blinking red.

“Deflector shields are down,” the hologram confirmed. “Aft scanners are malfunctioning. Electricity is down in the mess and starboard quarters. And it looks like Ean has a problem with the warp drive.”

“Qué más…! Ean?!”

“Aye, Captain.”

Something was seriously wrong with Sirena’s com system as well. The engineer’s voice sounded distorted. Rios clenched his jaw around his cigar.

“What’s going on down there, Ean?”

“The warp core is nae cooling down properly, Captain. Scanner shows a short circuit, but I dinna ken- something else is going on.”

Rios sighed.

“Emmet, Enoch?”

The two holographic crew members swung their startingly human gazes around to Rios, one of them infinitely bored, the other one perky.

“I’m going down there myself.” Rios pointed at the metal stairs leading to the lower decks and the engine bay. “You have the bridge. Keep an eye out for hostiles and let me know when we approach Centra.”

The ENH clapped his hands in delight. The ETH yawned.

Rios rolled his eyes.

As he climbed down the stairs, his adrenaline slowly waned, entirely being replaced by a dark anger. It was directed at himself, mostly, for not smelling that something about this commission had been fishy. He should’ve smelled Beltranians behind it. Estúpido. They had betrayed him and damaged his ship. His Sirena. His home. Chewing angrily on his extinguished cigar, he opened the hatch to the engine bay.

A hot, chemical smell hit him. Overheated composite. Scorched circuit boards. Ailing technology.

The EEH was standing by the warp core, running a handheld scanner across the welded seams of the plasma port. Under his woolen cap, sceptically narrowed eyes were trained on the tool’s small screen.

“Did you find the damaged circuit board?” Rios asked.

“I did.” The hologram stood, scratching the back of his head. “But the core temperature is still too high, and I cannae tell wh-“

BOOM!

One of the plasma tanks exploded. Glass flew like bullets, and Rios felt shards embedding themselves in the side of his face and neck when he instinctively turned away from the blast. Beside him, the EEH disintegrated. Plasma rained down, splashing Rios’ left side, the acid burning through his clothes, into his skin. The fumes bit into his lungs when he gasped and fell, hitting a console that he clutched like a life buoy.

Plasma coagulated around Rios in puddles, biting into the floor paneling with a hiss. All he could do was hang on to the console and try to remain on his feet.

The com system crackled to life.

“Ean, que pasa?!"

Emmett.

Rios meant to speak, but all he could manage was a pained gurgle. He couldn’t breathe. His skin was on fire. A thousand blades were stabbing into his arm and side.

“Captain?” Enoch sounded uncommonly concerned now. “Are you alright?”

“No, he’s no’!”

Ean.

He’d flickered back into existence and hit an emergency button. Foam sprayed down and hazmat filters sprang to life.

“Captain!”

A few strides through the chaos, his holographic boots unaffected by the acid, and the hologram was at Rios’ side, grabbing him around the hips to keep him upright.

Rios moaned.

“We need a wee bit o’ help down here,” the EEH shouted. “Where’s Em-?”

“What is the nature of your- …oh no!”

Conjured from thin air, the EMH pulled his hands from his pockets and rushed to Rios’ aid.

Through the pain biting into his face and neck and burning down his arm, Rios wasn’t aware of much else. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt, and he neither had the will nor the strength to ward off the EMH descending on him. He heard the warbling of a tricorder as the EMH fired questions at him that he couldn’t answer. A hypospray was pressed to his neck, and as the pain lost its blinding edge, he felt himself being lifted and carried, fireman-style. When Rios attempted a weak protest, he was shushed by a Scottish burr.

“Dinna fash, Captain. You’ll be right as rain.”

Their trek ended where all days like these seemed to end: with Rios in a biobed, hopped up on the EMH’s hypospray cocktails, medical equipment whirring around him and a smug Emil hovering and fussing. Dropping in and out of consciousness for several... hours?...days?... he once thought he saw Enoch sitting on a stool next to him, blathering cheerfully, and he could have sworn he felt Emmett’s tattoed hand squeezing his arm, but it must have been the drugs. Later, he would remember the engineering hologram stopping by, obviously to fix a technical problem. He even imagined seeing that fucking hospitality hologram sneaking into sickbay with a bouquet of flowers at some point, but when he woke up for good the next time, they were nowhere to be seen. It must have been a hallucination.

When he walked back onto the bridge days later under the observant gaze of the EMH, his crew was at their posts and the ship was in pristine condition. Any damage La Sirena had sustained during the attack had been repaired.

“Welcome back, Captain,” the ENH chirped from his seat at the navigational controls.

Across from him, Emmett stretched with a wide yawn and grunted while Ean emerged from under a console with a screwdriver and a grin on his face.

When Rios sat down in his chair, Steward materialized by his side, handing him a cigar and performing a ridiculous little bow.

“Suficiente!” Rios groaned, grabbing the cigar and angrily waving the EHH away. “You’ve all had your fun! Can we now go back to business?”

In a scarily synchronized gesture, all five holograms put their hands on their hips and shifted their facial features to a reproachful expression.

Rios rolled his eyes.

“Can we now go back to business, please?”

Five heads nodded at him in unison, and, while Rios grumbled something around his cigar, went back to work with deceptively human smirks on their faces.

(To read all of my whumptober 2020 stories, go to AO3, here)

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 16: The Huntress

Sorry, folks. No Reylo in this chapter. But, come on. The kids deserve a little alone time after what just happened.

Here we have our first examination of the bounty hunter I created in Chapter 10. She’ll be pretty important to some events going forward. This chapter is more expository, but they can’t all be what Chapter 15 was.

Some of you may recognize the designation of Nil’s droid, and I’m definitely calling back to HK-47 from Knights of the Old Republic II. While this is NOT the same droid, and Nil has obviously programmed out a lot of the snark, you can follow the link below to get an idea of how the droid sounds when it talks.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vg1gTas7OAA

She is called Vyada Nil.

It is the name that was gifted her when she was called to her birthright. It is the name she adopted when that birthright was taken from her. It is a mask and armor. It is all that she is.

Nil checked the coordinates she’d plugged into the hyperdrive one more time, locked-in the auto-pilot, and jumped to light speed. She walked to the back of the cockpit and punched the access code. The door slid aside and revealed the cargo hold, with a large weapons locker and stasis pods modified into charging stations to house rows of battle droids, all slumped in standby mode.

Turning, she opened the weapons locker and examined the contents. The arsenal she’d arranged had been curated for a specific purpose: to hunt, entrap, and kill users of the Force. But now she faced the most challenging targets she’d encountered, and each weapon served a unique utility that would surely be employed in the coming days.

Blades. Sith liked those. For show. For the intimacy of a slow kill. To exert the most control over when and how death would come. Their opinions changed when the control they craved was turned against them. Everything bleeds.

Explosives. Useful for strike radius, but easily detectable by Force sensitives. Their utility was in confusion. When the battlefield descended into the chaos of black smoke and charred stone, and the air was choked with embers and ash, even a powerful Force user could become disoriented.

Toxins. Darts and gases. Darts could be employed with relative ease, and, though most Force users would be able to withstand the effects of poisons, the effort required to do so would distract them from the onslaught visited upon them in the kill zone. Gases were less effective. They were more useful for weeding out a Sith’s servants. Or a Jedi’s allies.

Nil had never actually encountered a being calling itself a Jedi that lived up to the billing. They were all of them zealots and pretenders. Users of the Force, but wild and untrained. Easy to confuse. They died like any other target.

Sith were different. They were nimble, adept, and cruel. They had an understanding of their powers and traditions. And they were harder to kill because they were defined by self-interest. But Nil loved nothing more than to watch the disbelieving shock on a Sith’s face as it became inevitable that death had come for them. In the expanse of the Empire, deep in what these people called the Unknown Regions, there was never a lack of warlords or vagabonds, monks or fugitives, who consecrated themselves with the title of Darth and set about earning the right to be feared. It bred a demand for assassins, and marked the grounds upon which these dark pretenders stalked as subject to the hunt.

The Jedi, on the other hand, had been cut off at the root sixty years prior, and the only sprouts that had emerged in their place were pale exercises in mimicry. They gathered in communes and caves, constructed temples from clay and wet timber, and thrilled at making rocks float. None of them were true Jedi, and Nil doubted there would ever be again.

She went to close the locker, and considered the last weapon in her arsenal:

Lightsabers.

They were unwieldy and unnecessarily dangerous weapons. An untrained novice was more likely to hack their own limbs off than strike a blow while using one. For one, they were much heavier than would be imagined, and the insistent thrum of the kyber field could make those not familiar with the flow of the Force nauseous from prolonged exposure.

But they inspired fear and wonder in the enemy. They overpowered any other weapon. They were elegant and efficient. And they killed anything they touched.

The huntress closed the weapons locker, picked up a datapad, and skimmed the information she’d received from the First Order. She knew what the information said. She knew what she needed to do. Her droids, however, were another tale. She had always known how to kill. She had been instructed well in the craft of it. And Nil found it a bitter irony that she now spent much of her time teaching machines to end life as efficiently as she.

She set down the datapad and approached a red droid with armor buffed to a matte finish. It didn’t gleam or shine. Nil preferred stealth over style when it came to her servants. It was time to determine if she could count on them in the battles to come.

“HK-9217, activate.”

The droid’s dim orange eyes blinked to life, and it stood at its stasis station, straightened its back, and looked at the huntress.

“Designation HK-9217, active,” the droid’s voice buzzed and crackled slightly, and sounded like the voice of a man who was profoundly amused to be trapped in a robot body. “Mission commander: Vyada Nil. Query: What is my mission status?”

“Standby,” Nil said, her voice carrying less inflection than the machine that now regarded her. “State mission readiness.”

“Weapons systems: thermal detonators, four active; single-shot missile ordnance, two active, two reserve; flamethrower tanks: left arm: fuel levels, 100 percent; right arm: 87 percent; shock batons: two, sheathed and fully charged. Defensive systems: energy shielding, chest deflector active; rear deflector active; anti-kyber pulse, operational but unloaded; warning: pulse discs are single use, and this unit has no replacement—“

“Disregard. State this unit’s combat readiness.”

“Diagnostic: all joints and hinges at full operational capacity; all servos at full range of movement; thrust capacity: approximately 120 seconds at full discharge.”

“Very good. Has this unit processed the additional intelligence received from the First Order?”

“Affirmative.”

“Report.”

“Target One is a human female, aged 20 standard cycles. Height: five feet, seven inch—“

“Stop. Omit biographical data.”

“Affirmative.”

“Continue with classification.”

“Classification: Target One is a Type IV Force sensitive with limited training.”

“Training summary.”

“Target One has been trained in some techniques used by the Jedi Order of the Galactic Republic. Observation: Many of these skills appear to be intrinsic, rather than taught.”

It was an extraordinary circumstance, Nil thought. This girl, wherever she’d come from, had a massive amount of potential, and her power in the Force was only growing. No wonder Snoke had sought her out. He always did have a knack for spotting his next student. And his next victim.

“Weaponry.”

“Target One has possession of a Corellian model-YT freighter with customized weapons systems. She utilizes a number of melee weapons in combat, including a durasteel quarterstaff, monomolecular blades and axes, and, it is reported, a lightsaber.”

“Tell me about the saber.”

“Reports describe a late-era Republic style lightsaber with a blue kyber crystal, Type I-B attunement. Origin of attunement: Skywalker, Anakin; Jedi Knight. Deceased, 4 A.B.Y.”

Enough about the girl. Nil wanted to hear about him.

“Next Target.”

“Classification: Target Two is a Type IV Force sensitive with extensive training.”

“Training summary.”

“First Order, approximately seven years. Instructor: Supreme Leader Snoke. Deceased 34 A.B.Y. Target Two has been trained in the use of the Force in the fashion of ancient Sith traditions.” The droid paused, as if to add dramatic effect. “Addendum: Target Two was also trained by an unknown Jedi. Deduction: It is highly likely that prior to instruction under Supreme Leader Snoke, Target Two was a student of Skywalker, Luke; Jedi Master. Deceased 34 A.B.Y.”

“Expound.”

“Analysis: Target Two was enlisted into the ranks of the First Order at the age of 23 standard cycles. Records indicate he was already proficient in many Force related skills and abilities associated with the Jedi Order of the Galactic Republic. The refinement of these skills suggest extended formal training. At the time of Target Two’s recruitment, the only living Jedi Master was Luke Skywalker. Conclusion: Target Two was likely trained by Skywalker in the Jedi arts.”

Nil was impressed. The droid had deduced Ren’s hybrid training history through implication. She was interested to see how much more the droids might be able to imply.

“Does this unit have any conjecture to report as to the previous subject?”

“Affirmative. Requesting permission to speculate.”

“Granted.”

“Speculation: It is possible Target One also received some limited instruction from Skywalker.”

“Expound.”

“Analysis: Target One, while untrained in a formal sense, exhibits signs of advanced training in observed use of Force abilities. As she displays many techniques of Jedi origin, the deduction reached in regard to Target Two also applies here. Observation: Target One is reported to possess the lightsaber of Anakin Skywalker. Further speculation: Target One May have received the weapon from Luke Skywalker or another family member.”

“List known Skywalkers.”

“Skywalker, Anakin; known alias: Darth Vader. Skywalker, Luke. Organa, Leia. Solo, Ben.”

“Whereabouts.”

“Skywalker, Anakin: Deceased, 4 A.B.Y.; Skywalker, Luke: Deceased, 34 A.B.Y.; Organa, Leia: whereabouts unknown, likely with the organization referred to as the Resistance; Solo, Ben: whereabouts unknown. Permission to speculate.”

“Go ahead.”

“Analysis: Ben Solo was known to be Force sensitive. He was trained by his uncle, Luke Skywalker, at a training temple that was destroyed circa 27 A.B.Y. He was assumed missing afterward. At the time of the attack on the temple, Solo was aged 23 standard cycles. Speculation: considering the naming convention associated with his title, it may be likely that Target Two is Ben Solo.”

“Confidence?”

“Request for clarification: shall this unit assume the First Order’s records concerning the Knights of Ren to be accurate?”

“Yes.”

“Further request for clarification: shall this unit assume Target Two was trained by Luke Skywalker?”

“Yes. Continue.”

“If such records are accurate, Target Two arrived at the behest of Supreme Leader Snoke in 27 A.B.Y. along with six others. Target Two was the only amongst them aged 23. The rest were younger. Conclusion: there is a 59 percent likelihood that these seven individuals were survivors of the temple attack; assuming that to be correct, confidence that Target Two is Ben Solo is 100 percent.”

The huntress considered this a moment. She had made the deduction herself within hours of receiving the preliminary intelligence. This droid had deduced it in an even shorter amount of time. It made her wonder why it wasn’t more widely known. It also made her wonder if the droid could fall prey to over-reliance on speculation.

“Target One. Could she be a Skywalker?”

“This unit requests permission to utilize sarcasm.”

“Denied.”

She almost thought she heard the droid breathe an exhausted sigh.

“Analysis: Target One was first observed by the First Order at a salvage settlement on Jakku, a planet best known for being the site of the wreckage of the remainder of the fleet of the Galactic Empire. Intelligence indicates she was a scavenger and had been known to the locals as an orphan once owned by a parts dealer named Unkar Plutt. Further intelligence indicates she had been scavenging there since she was a child.”

“Continue.”

“Historical observation: Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa were highly visible individuals within the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic. Birth records do not indicate Organa had any other offspring. And, considering the Jedi inclination toward celibacy, it seems unlikely Skywalker produced any of his own.”

“Permission to assume Skywalker was not celibate.”

“Analysis: Skywalker’s whereabouts and movements during the time period surrounding the assumed birth year of Target One were well documented. Chances he could have produced offspring without anyone learning of it are less than 15 percent. Addendum: it is also unlikely that any custodian of an offspring of Skywalker’s would elect to abandon that offspring, particularly to the kind of existence common to scavengers, and at such a young age.”

“Conclude.”

“Conclusion: likelihood of consanguinity is less than one percent.”

Nil was satisfied. The droids were no fools.

“Return to Target Two. Weaponry.”

“Target Two uses a highly modified lightsaber. Kyber crystal of unknown original color. Type V attunement. Origin of attunement: Unknown. Origin of crystal bleeding: Target Two.”

“Describe the saber modifications.”

“Diagnostic: Target Two’s lightsaber utilizes a Malachorian design to accommodate the unstable kyber field generated by the damaged crystal. The focusing chamber is braced by quillion emitters that vent excess energy into a cross guard.”

“Is the crystal’s field being manipulated?”

“Unknown. Speculation: Target Two may have manipulated the kyber field to make the field as stable as could be maintained while still using a portable housing.”

Good. The droid had a grasp of who they were dealing with. Now to see if she’d managed to teach them anything.

“Analyze targets for engagement and elimination.”

“Target One, whereabouts unknown. Observation: Hunter Nil could utilize a strategy of attacking the innocent. Jedi are known to be drawn out of hiding, and even be deceived into sacrificing themselves, for the good of others.”

“Noted. Combat prediction.”

“Prediction: Target One, if engaged, will likely be dangerous due to her status as a Type IV Force sensitive, and her unpredictability as a result of lacking extended formal training. Suggestion: Hunter Nil should utilize a strategic ambush to catch her off guard. Chance of success: 83 percent.”

Nil considered a moment, and nodded. An ambush was the best option. And springing the trap could be accomplished through use of the right bait, as the droid had suggested.

“Next target.”

“Target Two, location: the Finalizer, acting flagship of the First Order flotilla. Observation: This target will be highly difficult to engage without an organized insurrection or targeted betrayal.”

“Understood. Combat prediction.”

“Prediction: Target Two, if engaged, will be a highly dangerous opponent. Suggestion: Hunter Nil should attempt ranged or remote assassination. Chance of success: 62 percent.”

No. Kylo Ren would not die in his bed or at his dining table. He would not be picked off at range by a dart or a lucky blaster bolt. It was his destiny to die standing, and in full knowledge of the burden and crimes of his legacy.

“Rejected. Next suggestion.”

“Alternative suggestion: Hunter Nil should utilize a systematic assault with battle droids, and engage Target Two in direct combat. Chance of success: 51 percent.”

The odds mattered less to her than the principle. She was hired to kill the Jedi girl. And she would die. That was the contract. Ren was part of her payment. And he would die. That was the promise.

“Does this unit have any queries?”

“Affirmative. Query: This vessel appears to be approximately 62,000 light years from Imperial space. Is Hunter Nil planning on returning to the Empire?”

“No.”

“Additional query: have additional bounties been contracted?”

“No.”

“Observation: Hunter Nil is not planning on continuing to hunt following the current bounty.”

Nil’s eyes narrowed until they were black slits.

“This unit will deactivate.”

“Affirmative,” the droid buzzed, took two steps back into the stasis station, and slumped back into position.

Nil walked to the viewport at the back of her vessel, and stared out into the streaming pulse of blue and white that made up the distances between the stars. She knew what she had come here to do, and that purpose had been stolen from her. So, now, the thieves would be dealt with as all thieves must be: with the chain and the sword.

She raised her hand to the glass and touched it lightly. The flickering glow of hyperspace outlined her fingers as though a clutch of energies had collected around them. As though she could reach out and harness them and bend them to her control. She stared at the illusion of it, knowing it to be a trick of the light, and closed her fist, one finger at a time, around nothing.

[onwheelsxyz-blog]

Aston Martin details James Bond-inspired DB5 continuation When Aston Martin announced that it was planning to create 25 ‘continuation’ replicas of the DB5 used in the James Bond film Goldfinger, the big question was how it would deliver on the original car’s huge tally of gadgets. Now the firm’s Works Division has shown us several of the gadgets under development in the programme, led by Academy Award-winning special-effects creator and Bond film veteran Chris Corbould.  While the finished cars, which will be delivered to customers next year, will have more features, we have been shown three: the replica machine guns that will pop out from behind the front indicator lights, the oil-spray system that deploys from behind the taillights and the smoke screen.  Paul Spires, Works Division’s president, confirmed that the finished cars will also have rotating numberplates, a sliding ‘bulletproof’ rear deflector and a representation of the original DB5’s famous ejector seat, although one that won’t actually be capable of firing passengers out of the car. A simulated radar tracking screen and an identical centre console to the film car’s will also feature.  Corbould said he had to think “for about a second and a half” when asked to work on the project, but admitted that there have been serious challenges in making features that are both convincing and repeatable.  “If we were doing an oil slick in a film, then we could fill the boot with equipment and put out about 50 litres in a couple of seconds,” he said. “Here it has to fit into a

[radwolf76]

FLASHBack: Week 59 [First-Class FLASHBack] - Fan-made Weird Al Music Videos

First Thursday of February here on FLASHBack, so that means two things. One, we're going First-Class, looking at an artist whose repeated contributions helped shaped the Flash Animation Genre, and two, Valentine's Day is just a little over a week away, and unlike last year, I'm not going to let it sneak up on me to where I'm all the way through a post about a Flash series mocking Metallica's stance against file sharing before I realize I need to throw in a love themed animation. So naturally, when it comes to matters of love, the obvious choice in this case is Weird Al, who often sings about love especially in his original songs, and was a hugely popular choice for Flash soundtracks.   The first entry we're going to look at today isn't an animation, but instead an interactive valentines day card maker by Shafer Animations that was uploaded to Albino Blacksheep for Valentines Day 2006. This is the exact type of content that doesn't translate well to being video archived and is going to be hard to access after the death of Flash at the end of this year, but I can at least give a screenshot of the kind of output you could make with this thing. The soundtrack chosen to back this widget is Weird Al's accordion-backed polka medley Hooked On Polkas from his 1985 album Dare to Be Stupid. This medley features clips from such love themed songs such as "What's Love Got to Do With It?" originally by Tina Turner, "Method of Modern Love" by Hall & Oates (Fun fact: Daryl Hall and I share the same junior high school chorus teacher), and "Owner of a Lonely Heart" by Yes. (It also has a clip from the song I lost my virginity to, which I will not specify as to keep some air of mystery about myself.)

  But ultimately, FLASHBack isn't about interactive Flash widgets, it's about Animations, and long before Weird Al was officially commissioning Flash Artists to make music videos for him, fans were doing it out of their love for his music. Such as the 2006 video that R. Wappin made for Al's 11+ minute ballad about a man's love for his mother, his love for his snorkel, his love of a woman bold enough to tell him "You've got weasels on your face," his love for the city of Albuquerque, and most importantly [spoilers] his anti-love for sauerkraut. Released on Weird Al's 1999 album Running With Scissors, there was no way that Yankovic's Sony Records imprint, Volcano Records, ever would have footed the bill for a music video for Albuquerque, as there was 0% chance it ever would have seen any airplay on Total Request Live -era MTV. Wappin's Flash steps in to fill this void.   Now not everyone is so lucky as to meet the girl of their dreams outside of a donut shop that's out of everything (and I seriously mean everything -- if you ever get the chance to see His Weirdness perform Albuquerque live, be prepared for him to rattle off about another twenty varieties that didn't make the studio cut -- I'm fairly sure he improvises them on the spot just to mess with the superfans who actually have the song memorized and try to sing along). For some people, it can be a long and involved process to find out if you're meant to be with someone romantically. One common starting point is comparing astrological signs for compatibility. Fortunately Al's Running With Scissors album also contains the definitive word on astrology, in the form of a song titled "That's Your Horoscope For Today". In May of 2006, this song was given a fan music video by long-time Mr. Weebl collaborator ZekeySpaceyLizard (Content Warning: Rapidly Flashing Text). (The same song was also used in a Homestuck AMV by KatRaccoon of "Behind the GIFs" fame, and while I have no idea if Flash was used for making this AMV or not, Homestuck counts as Flash-adjacent content at the very least, so I'm including it.)   Of course, not everything has to be about romantic love, sometimes love can be the joy brought by a shop full of tools. In February of 2007, Lennox put together a fan music video for the song Hardware Store from Yankovic's 2003 album Poodle Hat. In an impressive level of attention to detail (but not nearly as impressive as the fact that Al sings this all in one breath), at the climax of the song Lennox makes sure to include: allen wrenches, gerbil feeders, toilet seats, electric heaters, trash compactors, juice extractor, shower rods and water meters, walkie-talkies, copper wires, safety goggles, radial tires, BB pellets, rubber mallets, fans and dehumidifiers, picture hangers, paper cutters, waffle irons, window shutters, paint removers, window louvres, masking tape and plastic gutters, kitchen faucets, folding tables, weather stripping, jumper cables, hooks and tackle, grout and spackle, power foggers, spoons and ladles, pesticides for fumigation, high-performance lubrication, metal roofing, water proofing, multi-purpose insulation, air compressors, brass connectors, wrecking chisels, smoke detectors, tire gauges, hamster cages, thermostats and bug deflectors, trailer hitch demagnetizers, automatic circumcisers, tennis rackets, angle brackets, Duracells and Energizers, soffit panels, circuit breakers, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers, calculators, generators, matching salt and pepper shakers.   So you may ask yourself, why were they selling hamster cages at the hardware store, and why would Al be excited about that? This brings us to the final type of love that I want to cover today, the love between a man and a small rodent. Wait, that makes it sound like I'm talking about Richard Gere. Let me rephrase: the pure innocent love between a man and his pet. At one point His Weirdness had a pet hamster named Harvey that he made a short song about, and Albino Blacksheep user UncleTom made an animation for. (Link goes to the original Flash, as I can't find a video conversion of this and am too behind schedule on this post to convert one myself.)   Next Week on FLASHBack, more on the theme of love.

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

Pellet guns in Kashmir: Cases of injuries to youths continue to be reported, but authorities say use of weapon on the decline

https://bharatiyamedia.com/?p=335 Last week, after a gunbattle that lasted for nearly five hours, a group of militants managed to escape from a security cordon at Yarwan in south Kashmir’s Shopian. As the gunbattle ended around dusk, several civilians were left injured due to being sprayed with pellets. In the first few hours, when the cordon was laid deep in the woods, there were no skirmishes between the forces and the youth. People were squatting on shop fronts at many villages along the Pulwama-Shopian road. But as the militants escaped, villages near the cordon site resonated with the sound of tear smoke shells. On a cratered road that is only a few metres away from the last ring of the cordon laid by the forces, dozens of youth received pellet wounds. Though authorities had announced that pellet guns would be banned, security forces still use them. However, officials said, their intensity has declined. In the gunfight at Yarwan, some security personnel also wielded long-barrel pellet shotguns. “I was just standing on the road when the forces fired pellets,” said a teenager, Showkat Ahmad Dar, who received pellet injuries to his torso. Kashmiri doctors take part in a protest against pellet guns in Srinagar. File image. AFP Thirty-year-old Gulzar Ahmad Dar had also received pellets all over his body at Kralachak including the face and red spots had left him scarred. “The forces also fired the pellets into the houses,” he said. Pellet shotguns were termed as “inaccurate” by human rights groups after hundreds were injured due to their massive use during the civilian uprising after the killing of Hizbul Mujahideen militant commander Burhan Muzaffar Wani in 2016. Hundreds were blinded, prompting human rights groups to seek a ban on the use of pellet guns. International human rights group Amnesty International has described the use of pellet guns as “inherently inaccurate,” stating in a report that the weapon that was meant to be deployed for “crowd control” has been responsible for “blinding, killing and traumatising” people in Kashmir. “The effects of these weapons will be felt for years to come. Amnesty International India has documented the cases of 88 people whose eyesight was damaged — some temporarily, some permanently – by metal pellets between 2014 and 2017. Their lives have changed entirely, and they are struggling to cope,” the report said. After the outcry over the use of pellets, home minister Rajnath Singh in 2016 said that the government was looking at introducing “non-lethal” alternative weapons to control mobs that rush to gunbattle sites to help militants escape from encounters. On 12 July, 2018, while replying to a question in Parliament about the casualties caused by pellet guns, Singh said that an expert committee will be set up to look at the non-lethal alternatives. Top police officials have said that the use of pellet guns has decreased as the intensity of protests has also declined in southern Kashmir. Senior Superintendent of Police, Kulgam, Gurinder Pal Singh, said that after the decline in the protests, the use of pellet guns has reduced. He said that unlike the situation in 2016, when thousands of protesters had hit the roads, the demonstrations have now been restricted to gunbattles only. He noted, “There is no comparison between the situation at present and that of 2016. At that time, crowds of thousands of people would gather every second day. Now, that happens only during an encounter. We have also taken safety measures like the use of deflectors on pellet guns. We have been issued new tear smoke shells, which have increased our effectiveness. Due to this, we use pellet guns less often. Also, security personnel are given more training on using such guns.” However, Mohammed Ashraf Bhat, president of Pellet Victims’ Welfare Trust, said that the authorities have not followed through with their promise to ban pellet guns in Kashmir. He said that last year, around 230 youth either sustained injured or lost vision after they were fired upon with pellets. “In the protests that erupted after the killing of militant commander Zakir Musa, many youth were injured after they were hit with pellets,” he said, adding that the use of the weapon is more common in southern Kashmir. Among recent cases, a youth was blinded in Shopian after he was hit by pellets, added Bhat. Your guide to the latest seat tally, live updates, analysis and list of winners for Lok Sabha Elections 2019 on firstpost.com/elections. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram or like our Instagram or like our Facebook page for updates from all 542 constituencies on counting day of the general elections. !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) {if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function() {n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments)} ; if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)}(window,document,'script', 'https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '259288058299626'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); (function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "http://connect.facebook.net/en_GB/all.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.9&appId=1117108234997285"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); window.fbAsyncInit = function () { FB.init({appId: '1117108234997285', version: 2.4, xfbml: true}); // *** here is my code *** if (typeof facebookInit == 'function') { facebookInit(); } }; (function () { var e = document.createElement('script'); e.src = document.location.protocol + '//connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js'; e.async = true; document.getElementById('fb-root').appendChild(e); }()); function facebookInit() { console.log('Found FB: Loading comments.'); FB.XFBML.parse(); } Source link

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Review: Weber Genesis II LX Grill

Durk Rion

A few nights after I got the new Weber Genesis II LX grill on my roof deck, I texted my buddy Ted, proposing beer and burgers at my place. I’ve reviewed Weber’s grills before and fully expected this one, the latest addition to its line of sturdy and well-made propane grills, to stand out as a high-end weekend warrior.

Weber Genesis II LX Grill

4/10

Learn How We Rate

Wired

A big, beefy grill with quality components that will likely withstand years of use.

Tired

Seemingly untested by Weber, this grill struggles to nail the grilling fundamentals. At a whopping $1,400 (and up), its almost impossible to make a strong case for this grill.

Buy It Now   |  Weber

How We Rate

1/10A complete failure in every way

2/10Sad, really

3/10Serious flaws; proceed with caution

4/10Downsides outweigh upsides

5/10Recommended with reservations

6/10Solid with some issues

7/10Very good, but not quite great

8/10Excellent, with room to kvetch

9/10Nearly flawless

10/10Metaphysical perfection

Oh, hell yes! Ted replied less than a minute later. Gentleman that he is, he even brought the beer.

I crisped up buns on the hot grate and grilled thumb-thick patties, giving one side more time than the other in order to brown them while avoiding what my dad would call “cooking it into a coma.” They made for some pretty fantastic weeknight burgers. But after more rigorous testing, the grill proved to have some serious weaknesses. This thing is built like a tank, but it’s surprisingly underpowered.

Next in Line

The Genesis II follows Weber’s hallowed three-burner Genesis line, and theres some nice thinking here. Along with the quality youd expect from Weber—these are the guys behind the famous Weber kettle grill, the highly lauded, gas-powered Spirit line, and exciting newer models like the kamado-style Weber Summit Charcoal—this grill comes with a fancy new “grease management system.” Laugh if you will, but anyone whos ever gone after a long-neglected grease pan with a putty knife or accidentally lit a grease tray ablaze while preheating will appreciate a grill that funnels grease toward a disposable drip pan.

I reviewed a grill in the LX series, which comes with a few more BTUs of heat and some additional bells and whistles. (The Genesis II line includes eight models altogether.) There’s a stainless-steel grill grate, a storage cabinet beneath the grill, and a light that attaches to the lid handle to illuminate whatever youre cooking. You can find similar features in other grills or buy them as after-market add-ons, but having them built into the model is a nice touch.

Less necessary are little LEDs that light up the dials. I turned them on and the button immediately got stuck. As far as I know, it’s still stuck and the lights are still on. Theres also an LED that indicates how full the propane tank is, but its right around the corner from the manual tank scale that tells you, at a glance, how full the propane tank is. So, there are two fuel gauges right next to each other, which display exactly the same information.

The grill is also iGrill 3 Ready, which is to say, you can buy an iGrill 3—a type of remote thermometer—and stick it in the spot where the LED gas gauge goes. But I wouldnt. iGrills can monitor the temperature of a couple things at once—say, the interior temperature of a thick cut and the temperature inside the grill—and deliver that information to an app on your phone via Bluetooth. The problem is that iGrill 3 has no built-in readout. That means if you’re standing in front of the grill, you’d have to open an app just to read the temperature on the thermometer directly under your nose. Apps and Bluetooth connections can be great additions to cooking hardware, but in cases like this, they also get in the way. The iGrill 2 has an easy-to-read LED on its base that displays temperature; having no readout on the iGrill 3 is straight-up dumb.

Blown Away

One of the best ways to test a grill’s capabilities is setting it up for two-zone grilling. Indirect cooking relies on getting the temperature to hold at specific points, whether its just to cook a chicken breast through or the hours-long process of cooking pork butt. Youre not searing—just using the grill like an oven to cook the food the way you want it. If you can create a hot zone of direct heat above blazing burners for searing and a cooler indirect zone to to cook food through without scorching, you know you’ve got a grill worth its burners.

I started with an empty, closed grill, trying to reach that indirect zone heated to two benchmark temperatures: first 225 degrees Fahrenheit, then 325 degrees Fahrenheit. It was a chilly 40 degrees outside with winds blowing 14 miles per hour—not ideal conditions, but nothing that a well-made grill can’t handle.

The Genesis II line offers grills with two, three, four, and six burners. I tested one of the three-burner models, which made for an odd two-zone grilling experiment: I had to choose if I wanted the heat coming from one or two burners, taking up one- or two-thirds of the grill.

Using only the left burner, I tried coaxing the unlit right two-thirds up to a consistent 225 degrees, after letting the grill preheat for 15 minutes. I had centered a temperature probe on the indirect side, allowing me to keep the lid down for consistency in testing.

Try as I might, I couldnt get the temperature to stabilize. Full-blast was too much; if I backed off, the temperature quickly dipped. I spent 25 minutes fussing with the burner knob every few minutes, at which point I gave up, feeling like I was driving a boat that just didn’t have the power to sail upwind.

Next, I lit the center burner for backup. I found a sweet spot after a few minutes with half power on the left burner and a trickle in the center, which seemed acceptable considering the wind. I nudged up the heat, trying to get up to a steady 325 degrees on the indirect side, but it needed constant adjustment to get anywhere close to consistent temperature. With two of three burners going on a windy (but not that windy) day, this is a big flop.

A few days later, when it was warmer and less breezy, I tried again. It took took 20 minutes post preheat, but I finally hit my 225 degree benchmark using just the left burner. More than that, though, was too much to ask of just one burner. Two burners could reach higher temps quickly, leaving just a third of the grill available for indirect grilling. On the grill grate of the three-burner model I tested, which is just over 500 square inches, that’s probably enough space to cook for a family of four, but not much more than that.

A Searing Disappointment

The other gas-grilling weak spot I hoped this Weber could overcome is obtaining a good, hard sear. I picked up a ribeye and let the grill preheat for 15 minutes, which left the heat deflectors glowing orange. I patted the steak dry, salted and peppered it, then set it on the grill and let it rip for five minutes on a dial setting Weber calls High+, the LX line’s version of going to 11. It came out pleasingly caramelized yet not overdone in the center. Decent for a gas grill, but still nothing exceptional.

Grill companies are starting to get the hang of better searing capabilities, even adding little “sear burners” for the task. Webers leaning in that general direction with High+, but the burners are almost six inches from the top of the grill grate, which is simply too far away to get a hard sear. I could get a better, more even sear in my cast-iron pan sitting on the grills side burner.

Id discover in later tests that while the conduction heat–where the food is in direct contact with the grill grate–tended to be quite good, it wasn’t enough to make it into the spaces between the grates for effective browning. Only by hopscotching the food around the grill grate could I come up with something close to an even sear. This grill’s burners go to 11, but thats still not high enough.

Overall, the Genesis II LX is well-built, comes with a great warranty, and will doubtlessly last a long time. But Id happily trade many of the bells and whistles of the LX line for a grill that can give me a blistering sear and enough power to keep the indirect cooking temps dependable.

With those weaknesses and–have a seat–the $1,400 price tag on the three-burner model, I just cant recommend it. Results might vary slightly between the two-, four-, or six-burner models, but even still, it’s just too much money to spend on something so surprisingly underpowered.

Food writer Joe Ray (@joe_diner) is a Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of The Year, a restaurant critic, and author of Sea and Smoke with chef Blaine Wetzel.

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