#overhead bridge crane | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

renecdote · 2 years

Text

blue enough to bruise

For @evanbucxley my love 💛

Two things happen at once:

Buck overbalances, arm slipping from around the bridge.

The rope snaps.

They lock eyes for a second, half a second, Buck’s wide and afraid, Eddie’s probably a match with the way his heart is pounding hard enough to hurt, nothing either of them can do, knowing that there is nothing either of them can do, and then—Buck is falling.

For BTHB: falling from a great height

[Read on AO3]

Eddie has just poured himself a cup of coffee when the call comes in. They’re all in the truck seconds later, headsets on, half the crew still wiping sleep from their eyes. Adrenaline hasn’t kicked in yet, but Eddie can already feel the anticipation building. The thing about early morning calls is that they always seem to be easy or awful, rarely anything in-between. Sometimes they can tell as soon as they arrive at a scene, but Eddie can’t pinpoint which way this one is going to go when they pull up, jumping out of the engine in the middle of a looming, six-lane bridge that police have already cordoned off on one side.

“Jumper?” Chimney asks.

Bobby frowns. “Doesn’t sound like it, he called 911 himself.”

Eddie cranes his head, squinting into the sunlight to see the figure clinging like a monkey two thirds of the way up a towering support beam.

“How did he even get up there?” Buck wonders aloud.

“Let’s focus on how we’re getting him down,” Bobby answers. “Buck, Eddie, I want you both in harnesses. We’ll send you up on the ladder, but it won’t reach all the way so you’ll have to climb.”

They harness up quickly. Eddie was worried when he came back to the 118 that he might have lost the easy familiarity of things like this—putting on a harness, reaching for the right item in a med kit, knowing exactly what Buck is going to say before he says it—but he’s been back for almost six months now and most days it feels like he never left. He checks Buck’s harness, tugging on the straps to make sure they’re secured properly, and Buck checks his in turn. Easy, familiar.

“Ready?” Eddie asks.

Buck nods. “Ready.”

They knock wrists: easy, familiar. Chimney called it a superstition once, which kicked off another jinx-esque debate that lasted all through one twenty-four shift and into the next. It had only been surpassed by the great ‘is a hotdog a sandwich?’ debate, which was rehashed with increasing intensity through a whole cycle of shifts until Bobby banned it ever being mentioned in the firehouse again.

(Eddie maintains, though, a hotdog is definitely a sandwich.)

Despite the bright day overhead, the water looks cold and angry below. Eddie has never been afraid of heights—can’t be afraid of heights in this job—but he tries not to look down. Better not to think about how far it would be to fall. The girders are slick with early morning condensation, cold metal and hot morning sun a deadly slip hazard. It forces them to go slow, every handhold carefully tested even with the harnesses to catch them if they fall. They work their way up, then across to where their caller is straddling a crossbeam. Slowly. Carefully. Up close, Eddie can see that he’s wearing climbing gear—or an amateur’s idea of climbing gear, at least—and he can’t be older than twenty-five.

“Oh thank god,” he sobs when they reach him. “I don’t want to die.”

Buck and Eddie exchange looks.

“Just stay still,” Eddie tells the kid. “My partner and I are going to put this harness on you and then lower you down to our team. Don’t try to help unless we tell you to.”

He keeps expecting it to go wrong. Eight out of ten times, the person you tell to stay still when they’re in a dangerous situation doesn’t listen, their mind too clouded with panic for rational thought. But this guy’s fear response must be freeze, not flight or fight, because even once he’s in the harness, it takes several minutes of coaxing to get him to actually let go. They lower him slowly and Eddie feels like he’s holding his breath until Chimney and Ravi get a hold of the man and pull him down the ladder.

“Good work boys,” Bobby tells them. “Now get yourselves down—carefully.”

Buck looks at him, grinning, and Eddie can’t help but grin back.

“Copy that, Cap,” he answers. “See you on the ground.”

They get halfway there.

Eddie is ahead, trying not to think about creaking ferris wheels, when he hears Buck’s bitten off curse. He looks up, something like dread itching at the back of his neck. He knew this call was going too smoothly.

“What’s wrong?”

“My line is stuck on something.” Buck tugs at it, then grabs quickly at the girders when he almost slips. “I can’t get it loose.”

He adjusts his grip, hugging the bridge with one arm, then tugs again, harder. Eddie follows the line of his rope up, up, up, trying to pinpoint where it has been snared. He doesn’t like what he sees: the rope isn’t just caught, it’s fraying, probably has been the whole time.

“Buck, wait—”

Two things happen at once:

Buck overbalances, arm slipping from around the bridge.

The rope snaps.

It doesn’t happen in slow motion. It’s all too fast, even with the way Eddie’s world narrows, the cacophony of voices on the radio nothing more than static in his ears. By the time he has reached uselessly into the air, Buck is tumbling six feet down, ten, twenty, then the shadow of the bridge swallows him whole. Eddie doesn’t see him hit the water, but he swears he feels it, fear and adrenaline like a lightning strike through his body, a Lichtenburg figure of grief already forming in its wake.

Buck told him once that he read about a guy who survived a fall from the Sydney Harbour Bridge. He was working on the construction when he fell 180 feet into the harbour below, coming out of it with nothing more than a few fractured ribs, bruises, and one hell of a story to tell.

“He wasn’t the only one who fell during construction,” Buck told him. “But he was lucky, he was a diver and he managed to turn in the air so he hit the water feet first. It’s probably the only reason he survived.”

Buck probably knows all the statistics, too, about people who have survived falls from bridges. About people who haven’t. Eddie doesn’t know the numbers, all he knows is that the higher the fall, the more likely you are to die, and this bridge is really fucking tall.

“Eddie.” Bobby’s voice is sharp through the radio. Focus. “Are you secure?”

Is he secure? Is he secure? Buck just fell of a bridge—a fucking bridge—and Bobby is worried about him?

Eddie grits his teeth. “I’m fine. Buck—”

“I know.” Calm. Somehow calm. “We’ve called in reinforcements, we’re going to get him.”

Bobby doesn’t say whether he thinks it will be rescue or recovery and Eddie feels too sick to ask. He’s sure his knuckles are white beneath his gloves with how hard he’s holding the girders, but he feels dizzying light. He needs to get down, but he has the strange, irrational feeling that as long as he doesn’t move, it’s not real. As long as he’s up here, he doesn’t have to face what might meet him on the ground.

“Eddie,” Bobby says again, gentler, and Eddie’s throat aches when he swallows.

“I know,” he replies, and he’s not sure if his voice trembles or if it just sounds that way because of how hard he’s fighting not to shake. He knows that if he starts, it’s not going to stop until he can get his hands on Buck, whole and warm and alive. (It might never stop.)

Eddie takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes for one second, two, three. Then he makes himself start climbing again.

***

It takes fifty-two minutes. Eddie keeps it together because he has to, because Bobby will sideline him if he doesn’t, because he needs to be doing something to help or the black hole growing in his chest is going to suck him in completely.

The Coast Guard have taken over the water, which leaves Eddie and the rest of the 118 spreading along the waterfront. Down here, the current is stronger than it looked from the towering height of the bridge. Buck is a strong swimmer, probably the strongest on the team, but he can’t swim if all his bones are broken. And as much as Eddie doesn’t want to think about it, he can’t stop running through every possible outcome in his mind, each worse than the last. He’s making himself dizzy. Lightheaded. He’s going through the motions of search and rescue (rescue, not recovery, rescue), but he feels—adrift. Like it was his own line that snapped when Buck fell, leaving him untethered in a growing storm, battered by wind and rain, cut through with every crack of thunder and blinding flash of lightning.

Eddie rubs at his chest, feeling like he can’t breathe even though he knows, logically, that he can. He can breathe, and they’re going to find Buck, and everything will be fine. It has to be fine.

He talked about it with Frank, once. What it was like to come home and tell Christopher that his mom had died. What it might have been like for Buck to tell Christopher that Eddie had been hurt. All the times Eddie worried that he might have to go home and tell his son that Buck did something reckless on a call, but this time luck wasn’t on his side.

“And what about you?” Frank asked, mild the way he always was when he was about to make Eddie feel like a piñata, turned upside down and beaten until all his feelings poured out.

“What about me?”

“You’ve told me how hard it would be for Christopher, having that conversation, helping him through his grief,” Frank answered. “But what about your own feelings? Your own grief?“

Eddie still doesn’t like to think about that question. Losing Buck won’t kill him because it can’t, not as long as he still has Christopher to think about, but he knows already that some part of him will break in a way that he’s not sure he’ll ever recover from. Not sure he would want to recover from.

He shivers. The wind is picking up, cold despite the sun glaring overhead, and the long sleeves of his LAFD shirt have none of the warmth of old-fashioned metal armour. Or maybe it’s just Eddie that is cold. The rest of the team look serious but unaffected as they move along the waterfront, searching for any sign that Buck might have pulled himself out of the water.

If he could have pulled himself out of the water.

If he could have swam at all.

If he’s not—

“We’ve got him.”

That lightning again, fear and adrenaline and grief, his heart in his throat until the confirmation comes almost a full minute later: “He’s alive.”

Eddie isn’t aware that his knees are giving out until Chimney and Hen are catching him and the three of them are sinking to the ground together.

“Thank god,” Hen manages.

“Kid has about nine dozen lives,” Chimney adds, and Eddie chokes on something that is more relief than laugh. His mind is a feedback loop of he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive, so vivid he swears he can taste it.

“Come on,” Bobby says, gathering them all. “They’re taking Buck in, we can meet him at the hospital.”

***

It takes ninety-six minutes.

Buck has been wheeled back by the time they all get to the hospital, and all the triage nurse will tell them is that the doctor will let them know when there’s news. They’ve done this more than a few times now—the vigil, the agonising waiting—but years of practice does nothing to ease the crawling under Eddie’s skin.

“Maddie is on her way,” Chimney tells them, and Eddie doesn’t even know when he had time to call her.

He doesn’t know when Hen and Ravi slipped away to buy coffees either, but his fingers wrap automatically around a paper cup when it is pressed into his hand. He doesn’t cry, even though he feels like he’s breathing through the hot press of tears every second that they wait, scattered in an all-too-familiar pattern around another all-too-familiar waiting room. Maddie and Chimney holding hands, Bobby bent forward in something like prayer, Hen a steady calm two seats down from Eddie, Ravi’s knee bouncing across from them.

And Eddie—Eddie still can’t breathe. There’s this part of him that thinks: Buck is with the doctors now, he’ll be okay. There’s a bigger part that thinks: Buck is with the doctors now, but what if he’s not okay?

He’s the first one on his feet when the doctor steps out and calls, “family for Evan Buckley?”

It’s good news. Mostly. Monitor and hope things don’t go downhill news. Two broken fingers, fractured ribs, cuts and bruises, the threat of pneumonia or some other nasty infection from the water he swallowed. But—Buck is gong to be okay. Is okay. Eddie has to pinch himself, hidden in the sensitive underside of his wrist, right over his stuttering pulse, just to make sure that this is real. That he’s not going to blink and find himself still suspended from that bridge, watching his best friend fall to his death without even a hope of stopping it.

His arm stings.

Bobby squeezes his shoulder.

Eddie blinks and the hospital doesn’t blur around him.

“Can we see him?” Maddie asks, still hand in tightly held hand with Chimney.

Eddie lets the others go ahead of him. He just—needs a minute. And he’s selfish, maybe, because he wants Buck all to hisself—needs Buck to himself—but. He thinks this is the kind of thing he’s allowed to be a little selfish about.

(He knows, somewhere just beneath the surface, hidden from everyone else but always itching, itching, itching, that Buck is the one thing he’s never been able to stop himself from being selfish about.)

***

“Hey.”

Buck looks up quickly, then winces at whatever hurt it aggravates. But he’s smiling, tired and wilting at the edges but genuine, when he answers, “Hey, Eds.”

Eddie grabs the chair beside the bed, sinking into it before his legs can give out under him. Exhaustion is following thick and fast on the heels of the relief that is spreading through him, putting down its tenuous roots along all the jagged Lichtenburg lines.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he says, and he’s trying to make it light, more relief than trembling, but he’s not sure he succeeds. The whole thing doesn’t feel like past tense quite yet.

“Sorry,” Buck says, guilty. “If it helps, I scared myself too.”

It helps more than it should, honestly, because the last time Eddie was in a hospital room like this with his best friend, he told Buck that he wasn’t expendable and saw in his eyes that he didn’t really believe it. It’s hard to believe that was eighteen months ago now. And at the same time, hard to believe it was only eighteen months ago.

This is the point where Eddie is supposed to make a joke, a flippant comment. But he can’t make his voice work around the ache in his throat because this was—it was close. Shot on a street in broad daylight kind of close. Trapped at the bottom of a well, crushed under a firetruck, forced into the back of an ambulance with a gun to their heads kind of close. He thinks… he knows, after months upon months of therapy, that he’s allowed to not be okay about that.

“Hey.” Gentle. Almost as gentle as the way Buck threads their fingers together and squeezes Eddie’s hand. “I’m here.”

Eddie doesn’t know if there is a right time to kiss your best friend. Three hours ago, maybe, or three years ago. It doesn’t feel right to do it now, with Buck in a hospital bed and the adrenaline still fizzling under his skin, but it feels wrong to wait a second longer too. What did he tell Chimney all those years ago? Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.

The kiss is soft and gentle, Buck’s lips dry against his own. Buck makes a sound in the back of his throat, starts to open his mouth like it’s instinct, hand fisting in Eddie’s shirt, but Eddie pulls away. Forehead against forehead for a second, three seconds, breathing together, then he forces himself to sit back. He—doesn’t regret it. Maybe he should, but. He doesn’t.

“Eds…”

Buck’s voice is weak, his eyes suddenly watery.

Eddie shakes his head because he’s a coward; he knows what Buck is going to say and he’s not strong enough to hear it.

“When you’re ready,” he says, squeezing Buck’s hand. “I’m here, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone, but Eddie would promise Buck a thousand tomorrows—a hundred thousand of them—anyway.

Buck’s eyes search his before he asks, “What if I’m never ready?”

Eddie smiles, even though the thought makes him ache. “That’s okay too.”

There was a part of him that was expecting to be rejected entirely, even though… Even though it’s Buck, and most days he feels like he knows Buck better than he knows himself. The way he smiles when he’s hurting, the way his eyes light up when he’s excited, the absurd combinations of condiments he likes on sandwiches. The way he craves reassurance but would never ask for it, the fact that he scrubs his favourite white sneakers with a toothbrush to keep them clean, the stories behind all the scars he doesn’t like to talk about. There are secrets in Buck’s skin, behind his smiles, breathed into the way he speaks and feels and loves, and Eddie know—not all of them, probably, but most.

He knows Buck and he knows that he loves him. That he’ll always love him. That one day Buck might show up on his doorstep and say he loves Eddie too.

“Will you stay?’ Buck asks.

I’ll stay forever, you don’t even have to ask.

“Of course,” Eddie answers. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Christopher is at school, the rest of their team is headed home to sleep off the twenty-four, and Buck—Buck is here. Eddie settles more comfortably in his chair and pulls out his phone, ready to wait for as long as it takes. Buck smiles, soft and hidden in the way he ducks his head, and Eddie feels it like lightning through through his veins: love, love, love.

He doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand.

Buck doesn’t ask him to.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #fic #badthingshappenbingo

237 notes · View notes

my-wordbook · 12 days

Text

Gantry

1. a bridge-like overhead structure with a platform supporting equipment such as a crane, railroad signals, lights, or cameras.

2. a movable framework for supporting and servicing a rocket prior to launching.

#star wars #vocabulary #english #vocab #booklr #langblr #language study #languages #lingblr #language learning #writers on tumblr

2 notes · View notes

12pt-times-new-roman · 1 year

Text

c3e48

The Bells Hells manage to escape the jabberwock for the time being, and come upon a cerulean-colored ruin, "some kind of ritual site."

Imogen sends a message to Morri asking for help, and although she doesn't respond, a short time after a massive fucking hawk crashes into the jabberwock and preoccupies it enough for the Hells to make it to the gateway.

There's certainly something to the color symbolism of Imogen's powers normally being white and purple, but are all crimson red when Ruidus is involved

Oh, that hawk-thing is literally Morri. The Hells see it swoop overhead and get hit by the jabberwock's fire breath, but Morri distracted it enough that it's definitely off the Hells' scent.

"Terosh, the Lidless Slumber" guards the gateway.

Matt is effortlessly and without looking down at his notes speaking in meter and rhyme. This riddle is so fucking cool, the gatekeeper needs something from each of them but they have to present it with a rhyme, plus it's a timed encounter because the thing is still on their trail.

They come out of the Feywild in the Highland Bluffs, a forested section of the Taloned Highlands. From the trees, they can see Imogen's hometown, and the mountains where the seat of the Stratos Throne sits.

"I still can't taste anything, but maybe if I keep trying, I'll be able to." ......please don't tell me that FCG taking the chef feat and learning how to cook is an allegory for their foray into religion.

the first time Imogen used her more potent sorcery powers was when she saved Laudna from angry villagers. my heart ;-;

Other members of the Grim Verity are investigating the Shadowfell malleus key, while Ryn herself is scoping out the Tishtan excavation site on Exandria. People at the Exandrian key are "adjusting, reacting. A last-minute scramble." Ryn's message gets cut off (after Laura rolls a 6 on a straight d20 roll).

Also, some random rolls (1 d20, then 1d20, then 2d10 for both Liam and Marisha) seem to be determining some things at the Ruby Vanguard's sites.

"Everyone who's known me has been dead for 998 years." that's awful fucking specific FCG.

There's no response from a sending to Ryn. But this is also 7 years after Jester's antics, so it's entirely possible that Ludinus and his surroundings are warded against sending.

The Ashari are underneath Terrah investigating a danger to the rift that Keyleth thinks could be connected to Ludinus and his plans (or to a "god-killer" that Imogen mentioned in her sending to Keyleth). The rift itself exists near the surface, but the danger sounds like it's subterranean. (my bet is on the Vanguard secretly excavating a mineral from there that they need to make arcane batteries.)

Dream time!

Chetney, FCG, and Laudna go in with Imogen as she focuses on Ryn.

"Shapes go past rapidly. Shadows, trees, cliffside rock, until you come upon a gargantuan pit. A drop-off in the surrounding landscape, a chasm, a massive hole in the ground. Pieces of equipment along the outside, excavation cranes, staircases, platforms in this sinkhole... there are half a dozen figures shifting equipment, some that walk around like patrols. It's busy, busier than you recall; you also see two large, hulking figures, just walking. Humanoid, standing about 12-15 feet tall. The shapes are armor-like, they walk bipedal with thin upper arms and massive fists; you feel the arcane crackle within, and these are large guardian automatons that patrol the exterior of the site... you continue to think of Ryn, and there's something pulling you downward. You see chunks of structure, ancient stone. Buildings, spires, hallways, ruined and destroyed by time, they emerge at certain angles from the side of this excavation. You can see elements of an expose glimmer of society from long ago, and more of these figures going along bridges and tunnels... as you descend further, you see the massive tower, the singular fork-like structure that sits center to this excavation pit, this towering piece of ancient intent that has been retrofitted and built-upon. Around it, other structures and ruins, and a bustle around its base. You see a handful of other large automatons, dozens of dark humanoid shadows, and the details become even clearer. They're building equipment and moving things. You can see glimmers of energy -- they're moving energy sources, cores are shifting, they're being pulled further beneath the ground and separated. You get the sense that they're reflexively enhancing their build based on recent circumstance, but they're bringing them beneath the ground. As you look at this central spire, you also see a malleus key-like structure far larger than the one you encountered in the fey, built against, onto, and around the spire. You get the ominous sense that this may be the centerpiece of what is to come. You also see a figure standing at the base of this tower -- standing, hand out in front, frozen in stone, Planerider Ryn. Locked in place and left for all to see -- whether it's a trophy or a warning, you don't know."

FCG gets closer, and there's something familiar about the machinery assembled around the tower. "There's an odd familiarity to the way this has been designed and implemented around this spire. You also notice a flash of glowing eyes, not far from where you stand. You see a female figure that looks in your direction, and a voice enters your mind. How interesting. I know you." Imogen and Laudna wake up, leaving FCG and Chetney in the dreamscape as it turns to black and white. Otohan Thull's eyes are glowing like a nighttime creature that caught the light. "The last thing you hear in your mind... well, then. Punishment it is." They wake up screaming after taking 36 points of psychic damage.

With an arcana check, Laudna recognizes that the spire is likely what amounts to an arcane lightning rod -- something either meant to receive energy, direct energy, or both.

From everything that the Bells Hells know, it seems like the keys in the two parallel planes are designed to syphon more power to the Exandrian key, since the leylines are in similar position across all three of those planes (so the key would be pulling power from 3 sets of leylines instead of 1). With one destroyed, they seem to be attempting to compensate with arcane power sources.

Within a day or two of travel, the Hells make it to Jhovaan. They -- especially Imogen -- get weird looks as they walk toward Imogen's childhood home and ask for her father.

Liliana kept her powers a secret from him, and only told him just before she left. It was a year or two after Imogen was born, and she said she started having dreams -- her desire to know about her powers was stronger than her desire to stay in Jhovaan with them.

Upon asking for belongings of Liliana's, Imogen's father gives her a golden chain necklace with a locket set with an opal. Inside, instead of a picture, there's a tiny fingerprint pressed into metal with the caption, "the better halves become a better whole."

"You sail toward the Hellcatch, and you swear there's almost an aurora in the sky."

#critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role liveblog #critical role campaign 3 #critical role c3 #note watches c3 #y'know what? I'm wondering if the malleus keys are just the second half of the puzzle.#what if the hammer was already enacted in Aeor #when it fell all those mages put themselves inside the bubbles #and now Ludinus is going to release them in order to enact the second half of the plan?#I dunno I just feel like there's such a huge difference between hammer and key that they have to be two separate things

22 notes · View notes

levynite · 1 year

Text

Around noon, a friend picked me up to go hang out at a friend's aesthetic cafe in a small obscure shopping mall next to the state postal headquarters smack dab in the middle of downtown.

Before 5pm after hours of eating and drinking and gossiping about the local otaku community, mom texts me and I initially thought she was bugging me to get home early but no, I was wrong.

My uncle had forwarded her a viral video taken in the afternoon just half a block and a corner around down from the building where I was currently located, where a loooong ass trailer carrying huuuuge pieces of machinery of some kind played chicken with a 4.5 meter limit pedestrian overhead bridge.....and lost badly cause they used maybe just the one chain and a bunch of thin rope. The poor sedan who was in the next lane got hit by a big ass metal chunk that put a fist sized hole in the right passenger window. Multiple pants must have been shat today.

As we wrapped up and went home, we reached the T junction and looked left straight down at one of the giant pieces still blocking the road which was blocked off by the traffic cops (for once).

Good luck to the person trying to find a big enough crane on a Sunday late afternoon and oh, Monday is also a public holiday.

I wonder if anyone has uploaded a video on YouTube yet?

#oh kota kinabalu #don't play chicken with an overhead bridge with a tall load

4 notes · View notes

thirt13n · 1 year

Text

sitting on a tar - covered roof in the middle of the afternoon waiting for an evac helicopter isn't her idea of a good time ----------- though what actually qualifies as a good time anymore has been thoroughly scaled down in recent years. ( really, she should just be happy they have the opportunity to sit around and wait ---------- there hadn't been any sort of scramble to get to higher ground, no hurried hailing over comms for someone to get them out while fighting off a mob. )

and now that they're up off the ground, the damage to the neighborhood around them becomes a little more obvious than it had back on street level. makes her just a little more eager to get going before she jinxes their situation by saying something about it.

"hey, kennedy," she cranes her head back to take another look at the sky overhead before finding @peacereflected over her shoulder, a reflexive squint pushing the sunmade freckles across the bridge of her nose closer together. "did they say how long it was going to be when you called it in? i don't want to say i'm getting antsy, but." that's exactly what she was doing. between the quiet and the heat starting to come off the roof now that the sun was out, her ability to bask in both seems to be coming to an abrupt end. "y'know." [ sc. ]

#peacereflected #peacereflected / leon kennedy.#ic » closed starter.#verse » post apocalyptic.#i can't even say it's been a minute since i played any RE #because it's been a WHILE #but share being involved with the anti umbrella pursuit team #sounds about right #timed drop » queue.

2 notes · View notes

clonewarsarchives · 2 years

Photo

Reputation (#136, OCT 2012)

written by Ari Marmell

art by Tom Hodges

It wasn’t even genuine rain pattering down around him, muting the hum of the speeders and skiffs high above. Real rain could never have wormed its way among the various obstacles to reach the city’s lower levels. No, this was condensation, dripping from the undersides of bridges, roadways, and TaggeCo gray-cranes overhead. Oily, polluted, stinking and stinging, it was enough to drive almost anyone to seek the nearest shelter.

Almost anyone. Not the hunter.

Broad-brimmed hat and sturdy coat of nashtah hide shed the putrid water as efficiently as any forcefield, but even if they hadn’t, the figure crouched beneath them would likely never have noticed the precipitation. From a flat and leathery face beneath that brim, the sinister crimson eyes of a Duros peered not at the multitude of towers above and ledges below, or the glimmering of a thousand lights, but into the years ahead.

War’s coming.

Most people didn’t like to think about it, didn’t want to admit it. They pretended the Trade Federation’s recent embargoes were flukes; ignored the growing whispers of separation and secession from the Outer Rim systems; placed an almost religious faith in the new chancellor’s abilities to reunite a fractious Senate.

He knew better, the hunter did. He could smell it in the air, across the length and breadth of the Republic. Might be a few years, yet, but war it would be.

And there was money to be made in war. A lot of money; more wealth than even the greediest Corellian could imagine. But he needed the name, the reputation, to claim it, which was why he’d taken this fool’s errand of a job in the first—

His eyes snapped back into focus with a single blink at the sudden vibration in the metallic band on his left wrist. Something had tripped the portable sensor fled—independent from the building’s internal security, and not nearly as easily bypassed—the Duros had placed on the roof below. Indeed, even as he rose for a better view, a glimmer of green luminescence shone, briefly but brightly, from a darkened hatch.

“Suppose it’s about that time, then...” the hunter muttered, his voice a rasping, rolling growl. Spindly fingers ran across the custom blasters at his waist in a final check, and then he was off and running. Coat flowing behind him like wings, boots spraying a wake of filthy water, the bounty hunter hit the edge of the platform and leapt.

“Blast doors down! Blast doors down!”

Akris Ur’etu, lord of the youthful but rich and brutal Skar’kla Consortium, cringed at the sound of his own voice, shrill enough to drown out the slamming of the heavy slabs. He knew it made him sound panicked, even cowardly, and couldn’t do a bleeding thing about it. When the Bothan crime boss grew agitated, his shadow-gray fur stood on end and his voice screeched like the felines he so greatly resembled.

Still, whatever his people thought of his bravery—or lack thereof—they obeyed. Half a dozen guards, human and otherwise, crouched throughout the room or flattened themselves against the walls, blasters and slug-throwers trained on the nigh-impregnable door. Ur’etu himself clutched a holdout blaster in one paw, hidden behind his magnificent desk of blood-red greel wood.

“Is it him?” he demanded, his tone now slightly more under control He ran his empty paw over his head, as though he could force his fur to relax. “Are we certain it’s him?”

A bronze-scaled Trandoshan thug opened his maw to speak, but the answer quickly became moot. A pinprick of glowing heat blossomed through the blast door; molten durasteel trickled from the breach, disturbingly like seepage from a ruptured cyst.

Swiftly, smoothly, that point became a line, tracing its way down the surface of the door. Ur’etu could practically envision the brown robed figure on the other side, lightsaber pressed tight to the portal.

“As he likes it, then,” the Bothan sneered, his worry drowning in a growing tide of anger. “I don’t know why this Jedi’s been interfering with my operations—or what happened to the bounty hunter who’s supposed to get him out of my fur!—but it ends here! The instant that door opens, I want that hallway filled with enough blaster fire to charbroil a Hutt!”

Guards grunted, fingers flexed on triggers and firing studs—and slowly, methodically, the sizzling outline in the blast door grew...

When the cut was finally complete, a chunk of durasteel simply slid away and toppled into the chamber. Clearly, the Jedi had canted the cut downward so gravity alone would do the job of moving the heavy slab; had any of Uretu’s men been fool enough to stand too close. they’d have been pulped.

Blasters screamed and bolts flew even as the room shuddered at the impact, so many and so rapidly that the ambient air grew charged, but no target stood revealed for them to hit. After a few volleys that served no purpose other than to score the walls beyond, it finally dawned on the lot of them that they were firing into an empty corridor.

Empty... until, just as the Trandoshan began to edge forward, a tiny metallic sphere bounced into the room from all to the left of the gaping hole in the door.

“Detonator!”

Ur’etu dropped beneath his heavy desk with a horrified yowl; guards dove for cover or turned to run, as though there were any real way to escape.

The blast, when it came, was almost pure heat and flame without concussion. The Trandoshan and two other thugs were incinerated outright, the others singed to various degrees of pain. Smoke, far more than any traditional thermal detonator should have emitted, billowed upward to cloud not only the doorway but that entire half of the room.

“Eyes on the door!” the Bothan shrieked from beneath the desk. “He’ll be—!”

He already was. From the very top of the smoke, carried through the fumes in a leap that no normal human could have duplicated, the dark-clad intruder rolled. A sizzling snap-hiss! and an emerald reflection in the cloud heralded his arrival. The lightsaber flashed, and the first of the surviving guards went down.

From well behind the Jedi—who, it turned out, was a black-haired and bearded human at average height, clad in a dark-hued variant of the Order’s traditional garb—the bounty hunter watched through narrowed crimson slits. One finger idly tapped at his chin, while the other kept the same rhythm on the butt of a holstered blaster.

These were no Jedi tactics he’d ever heard of! Slicing through the blast door, that was one thing, but the Duros had never seen a lightsaber like this one. The shaft alone was over a meter long, as though the weapon had been stuck on the end of a small pike, turning it into more of a spear than a sword. And he’d watched as the Jedi ducked aside, hunkering behind the segment of the door still standing until the inevitable barrage had passed, and then...

“Since when,” he asked himself softy. “does the Jedi satchel of tricks include thermal detonators?”

Most curious of all, though, was the leap that carried the intruder into the chamber beyond the wall of smoke. For just a spilt second, as the Jedi crouched, the bounty hunter swore he spotted tiny flashes of light from the soles of the man’s boots.

“Well, now. What exactly are we looking at here?”

Tugging the collar of his coat high and tight to filter the worst of the fumes (Breathing tubes! Best add breathing tubes to my own sack of tricks...), the bounty hunter crept toward the smoke.

* * *

When the boss of the Skar’kla Consortium had ducked beneath his desk, it wasn’t only because he’d hoped the heavy greet wood might shield him from the blast. A hidden switch, a quick turn, and the floor beside the desk hissed open. By the time the last of the guards fell to the lightsaber, Ur’etu was already dashing along a metal-paneled corridor, swearing up a storm in Bothese between ragged gasps. He’d expected he might have to retreat, that the guards upstairs might not be enough—but he thought they’d at least have slowed the blasted Jedi down a little! With every step, he had to quash the urge to look over his shoulder, convinced he heard pounding footsteps or the sinister hum of the blade close behind him. A dozen times he started at sudden movement, and a dozen times it proved nothing more than his own reflection in the polished walls.

Finally, after what felt like a sprint of roughly a light year or so, he came to the end of the corridor, and cheery door not substantially thinner than the blast doors above. Somewhat frantically—for now he really did hear the rapid steps of the oncoming Jedi—he waved a paw over a sensor recessed into the durasteel. Instantly the portal slid up into the frame, revealing Ur’etu’s security center.

From amidst a ring of standing monitors, the Bothan’s Weequay security chief peered at him.

“Problem, boss?”

The clunk of the closing door masked another stream of Bothese obscenities. “What the mradhe muck kind of stupid question is that?!”

The Weequay shrugged, and if he felt at all contrite, it didn’t show in the crags and wrinkles of his coarse face. “Thought you said you’d call me when you needed—”

“Wasn’t time! That Jedi tore your men apart!”

“He’s coming through that door any second,” Ur’etu continued between wheezes.

“Good!” The security chief stepped away from his post, a stubby force pike clutched in his left fist. It began to crackle and spit, as though just as anxious as its wielder for the coming chaos. “Been wantin’ to try my hand against a Jedi.”

“You don’t have to beat the son of a mynock! Just lock him up long enough for....” The Bothan hefted his blaster.

“Just don’ hit me, boss.”

“Oh, thank you so much for the—”

No lightsaber cuts this time; the door simply slid upward once more to reveal the cloaked and cowled figure beyond.

Instantly Ur’etu stepped back and to one side, raising the small but deadly weapon in hopes of a clean shot. The Weequay strode forward, force pike spinning idly at his side.

The Jedi’s left hand rose, fingers pointing at the Bothan.

Ur’etu gasped as the blaster abruptly tore itself from his grip and sailed across the chamber to slap into a dark-gloved palm.

The Weequay had crossed roughly half the distance between them in a sudden lunge before the Jedi flipped the blaster around and shot him in the face.

“Now... now wait a minute...” the Bothan protested, backing away with both paws raised. “Look, I don’t know what grudge you have against my organization, but I’m sure there’s some arrangement that we can glrk...”

The Jedi stepped to one side, left hand pointing once more, and Ur’etu began to choke.

* * *

“Right. Think I’ve seen about enough, then.”

Two faces, one hooded and one furred, twitched around as the bounty hunter stepped calmly into the security chamber. Ur’etu made a peculiar gurgling in his throat, gesturing madly toward the Jedi with one paw while the other continued to grab futilely at his own neck.

The Duros watched the Jedi’s arm shift beneath his robes, saw the indecision on the man’s face, and offered a broad, sharp-toothed grin. “Don’t mind me. I got no intention of interfering. By all means, finish up.”

One wouldn’t have thought the suffocating Bothan’s eyes could bulge any wider. One would have been wrong. Ur’etu, boss of the Skar’kla Consortium, died staring in horrified rage at the blue-skinned bounty hunter.

“Now,” the bounty hunter began as the body slumped to the floor, “let’s you and me talk a minute.”

“What about?” Even had the Jedi’s words not swum in a soup of suspicion, the hand he rested on the hilt of his lightsaber would have been indicator enough.

“Mostly about how you faked all...” Long blue fingers waved idly at the room in general .“All this.”

The hand on the lightsaber shaft tightened.

“I don’t recommend it, son. Not even a Jedi’d be fast enough—and we both know you’re no Jedi.”

The man’s answering hiss of astonished anger led into the louder hiss of plasma, the lightsaber blade once more snapping on to bathe him in a faint green glow...

And just as swiftly shut down as a blaster bolt tare through the shaft, sending metal shrapnel, burnt wiring, and crystalline shards tearing through cloth and, in a few painful instances, skin.

“Stolen lightsaber, right?” the bounty hunter continued, as casually as if discussing the latest slingball match. “Extra haft makes it easier to wield without leaving a few of your own limbs behind, that one’s obvious. What else you got?”

The “Jedi” leapt, clearing the control panels and half the chamber in a bound, heading toward the fallen Weequay and—presumably—his weapons.

“The boots, right. Impressive.” A second blaster bolt flew, piercing miniature engine, leather, and flesh alike. Smoke, so thick it was almost a fluid, gushed from the human’s right heel. Propelled only by the other, now, his leap veered off course. slamming him into the wall with a bone-bruising crunch. He slid to the floor, groaning. “Smallest personal jet I’ve seen was 30-kilo pack,” the Duros told him, gesturing idly with the pistol . “You’re lucky I made that shot, by the way. I don’t typically practice shooting to wound.”

Fingers shaking, the supposed Jedi raised a hand once more. The blaster quivered in the hunter’s hand, then began to pull away.

“Mono-filament cable with a magnetic grapple?” The bounty hunter yanked, and the wounded man slid across the floor, dragged by his own wrist. “Probably looked just like the Force to that scared Bothan idiot when you snagged his blaster.” The human fetched up against the hunter’s feet with a pained gasp.

“And the suffocation. Let me see...” He bent low, studying the other’s wrist gauntlets. “Gas emitter. Wouldn’t recommend trying that, not with you and me so close. Might choke the both of us, hmm?”

Real clever scheme, I’ll give you that.” The Duros holstered his weapon, then again started to idly tap a finger against his chin. “Leave behind a few bodies killed with a lightsaber or choked without any bruising, make sure witnesses see you performing a few tricks, and everyone’s thinking your target riled up the Jedi something fierce. So nobody—not the authorities, not Ur’etu’s allies—are looking at any of his business rivals. Smart.

“So which Hutt are you working for?”

“What did—? I never said... How—?”

“Not hard to figure. Not like anyone but the Hutts have been trying to move on Skar’kla territory.”

The “Jedi” nodded once, his teeth clenched.

“All right. Then here’s the deal, son. I took Ur’etu’s job—that’s killing you, in case you still weren’t sure—because I figured taking down a Jedi would garner some attention. But everyone would’ve figured it out, once I brought you in. So here’s what I figure: The Hutt’s bounty on the Bothan must be pretty sizable, so I’m going to collect it.

“And you... You’re gonna convince me I made the right call letting you live by teaching me how to construct this kind of miniaturized equipment.” Already the hunter’s mind was reeling with the possibilities; energy fields, ship controls, hidden weapons, code breakers...

The false Jedi was clearly wise enough not to bother asking what would happen should he refuse. Instead, he nodded a second time, even more stiffly. “I didn’t catch your name, bounty hunter.”

“Bane. The name’s Cad Bane.”

“Never heard of you.”

“No.” Bane couldn’t keep a broad and vicious smile from spreading across his face. War was Looming—and the hunter with access to this kind of gear, and the right attitude to use it, would have more than enough of a reputation to cash in when the time came. “No, you wouldn’t have.

“Not yet.”

#the clone wars #Cad Bane #insider #i136 #books #short story #thomas hodges #Bane''s (sort of) origin story

18 notes · View notes

microprompts · 1 year

Text

Word count: 500

Write a romance set somewhere cars pass overhead. Beneath a bridge, under a demolition crane—get creative.

Use the word "tightly."

#microfiction #microfiction prompt #writing prompt #writeblr #writerslife #writing #copywriting

2 notes · View notes

mayoiayasep · 2 years

Note

Anyways an Iura who didn’t have any friends in middle school. An Iura who went into high school as a blank slate, and sat next to Tooru, and overhead him talking about a band he liked, so he went home and listened to all their discography in order to have something to talk to Tooru about. An Iura who gets socially drained sometimes but still puts on a cheerful attitude because he’s terrified of losing his friends. An Iura who doesn’t even /like/ the music he recommends to Miyamura, but Tooru likes it and so he listened to it and bought the CDs, and it’s the only way he knows how to bridge the gap between people. Head in hands

crane. crane. warn me next time

#waugh ok. this is fine #inbox mail #crane 🕊️#horimiya rewritings

5 notes · View notes

hescranes · 6 days

Text

The Ultimate Guide to Overhead Gantry Cranes: Revolutionizing Industrial Efficiency - Hes Cranes

Overhead gantry cranes are indispensable tools in various industries, known for their versatility, efficiency, and ability to handle heavy loads with precision. Whether in manufacturing plants, shipyards, or warehouses, these cranes streamline operations, ensuring safety and productivity. Let's explore the key features and benefits of overhead gantry cranes and understand why they are a crucial asset in industrial settings.

What is an Overhead Gantry Crane?

An overhead gantry crane is a type of crane that straddles its workload and can move along a set of tracks. It consists of a bridge supported by two or more legs that move on wheels or along a track system. The bridge carries a hoist, which travels horizontally along the bridge, lifting and moving loads efficiently.

Key Features

Versatility: Gantry cranes can be used indoors or outdoors, making them suitable for various environments. They are adaptable to different load types and weights, enhancing their applicability.

Adjustable Span and Height: Many gantry cranes offer adjustable spans and heights, allowing customization to specific needs. This flexibility is particularly beneficial for tasks requiring different lifting heights or widths.

Mobility: Unlike fixed cranes, gantry cranes can be moved to different locations within a facility, providing greater flexibility. This mobility is crucial for operations that require repositioning of lifting equipment.

Cost-Effective: Gantry cranes are often more cost-effective compared to other types of overhead cranes. Their installation and maintenance are typically simpler and less expensive, providing a high return on investment.

Benefits

Enhanced Productivity: By automating the lifting and moving of heavy loads, gantry cranes significantly reduce the time and effort required in manual handling. This leads to faster production cycles and improved workflow efficiency.

Improved Safety: Gantry cranes are designed with safety features such as overload protection and emergency stop functions. These features minimize the risk of accidents, ensuring a safer working environment.

Space Utilization: These cranes optimize space usage in a facility. By operating overhead, they free up floor space, allowing for more efficient layout and storage solutions.

Durability: Constructed from robust materials, gantry cranes are built to withstand harsh conditions and heavy use. Their longevity ensures sustained performance over time, making them a reliable choice for industrial applications.

Conclusion

Overhead Gantry Cranes are transformative tools that enhance industrial operations through their versatility, efficiency, and safety features. By investing in a gantry crane, businesses can achieve greater productivity, optimize their workspace, and ensure a safer environment for their workforce. Whether you are in manufacturing, shipping, or warehousing, the benefits of integrating an overhead gantry crane into your operations are undeniable.

For More

Website https://hescranes.com.au/

Ph: 1800 437 272

Mail id: [email protected]

Working Time: Monday to Friday 9.00am - 5.30 pm

Saturday and Sunday Open 24 hours.

#Overhead Gantry Cranes #Gantry Cranes #Cranes

0 notes

ganeshcrane · 13 days

Text

Double girder overhead cranes - Ganesh Crane

Double girder overhead cranes are a type of crane that feature two girders on the bridge, as opposed to the single girder design. These cranes are often used for heavy duty lifting applications and are known for their high lifting capacities and long spans. They are commonly used in industrial settings such as manufacturing facilities, warehouses, and construction sites.

#Double girder overhead crane #india #suppliers #manufacturers

0 notes

vinuupvc · 15 days

Text

Gantry Cranes Manufacturers: An In-Depth Look at Techmechcranes

Introduction Gantry Cranes Manufacturers Gantry cranes are essential tools in various industries, providing the muscle needed to lift and move heavy loads efficiently. In this article, we'll dive into the world of gantry cranes, focusing on their types, benefits, and what to look for when choosing one. We'll also spotlight Techmechcranes, a leading manufacturer in this field, and explore their innovative solutions.

Overview of Gantry Cranes Gantry cranes are a type of overhead crane with a single or double girder configuration supported by freestanding legs that move on wheels or along a track. They're versatile, robust, and ideal for indoor and outdoor applications.

Importance of Gantry Cranes in Various Industries From construction to manufacturing and shipping, gantry cranes play a pivotal role. They enhance productivity by simplifying the lifting and transportation of heavy materials, reducing manual labor, and increasing workplace safety.

Types of Gantry Cranes Full Gantry Cranes Features of Full Gantry Cranes Full gantry cranes have two legs that support the bridge, which can move along fixed rails. These cranes are known for their high load capacities and extensive span lengths.

Applications of Full Gantry Cranes These cranes are perfect for heavy-duty applications such as shipbuilding, large-scale construction projects, and container handling at ports.

Semi-Gantry Cranes Features of Semi-Gantry Cranes Semi-gantry cranes have one leg that travels on a rail on the ground and another leg that runs on an elevated rail. This design allows them to be used in spaces where a full gantry crane isn't feasible.

Applications of Semi-Gantry Cranes These are often used in warehouses and manufacturing plants where part of the workspace can support an overhead runway.

Portable Gantry Cranes Features of Portable Gantry Cranes Portable gantry cranes are lightweight, easy to assemble, and can be moved around as needed. They typically have lower load capacities compared to full or semi-gantry cranes.

Applications of Portable Gantry Cranes Ideal for smaller workshops, maintenance tasks, and light-duty material handling.

Advantages of Using Gantry Cranes Cost-Effectiveness Gantry cranes offer a cost-effective solution for lifting and transporting heavy loads without the need for permanent installations or extensive infrastructure.

Flexibility and Mobility Their ability to move freely makes gantry cranes highly flexible, adapting to various tasks and work environments with ease.

Enhanced Safety Features Modern gantry cranes come with advanced safety features such as overload protection, emergency stop buttons, and anti-collision systems, ensuring a safer working environment.

Key Considerations When Choosing Gantry Cranes Load Capacity Determining the maximum weight your crane needs to lift is crucial. Overloading a crane can lead to equipment failure and accidents.

Span and Height The span (width) and height of the crane must be suited to the dimensions of your workspace and the tasks you plan to perform.

Operating Environment Consider whether the crane will be used indoors or outdoors, as this will influence the type of crane and materials used in its construction.

Leading Gantry Cranes Manufacturers Introduction to Leading Manufacturers The market is filled with numerous gantry crane manufacturers, but some stand out due to their innovation, reliability, and customer service.

Techmechcranes: An Overview Company History Techmechcranes has been a trusted name in the crane manufacturing industry for decades, known for its commitment to quality and customer satisfaction.

Product Range They offer a wide array of products, including EOT cranes, double girder cranes, single girder cranes, electric winches, jib cranes, hot cranes, and grab buckets.

Customer Support and Services Techmechcranes prides itself on exceptional customer support, offering installation, maintenance, and after-sales services to ensure their products operate at peak performance.

Other Prominent Manufacturers Comparison with Techmechcranes While other manufacturers also produce high-quality gantry cranes, Techmechcranes stands out due to its extensive product range and focus on customization and innovation.

Techmechcranes: A Closer Look Innovative Designs Techmechcranes continually invests in research and development to bring innovative designs that enhance performance and safety.

Customization Options They understand that every customer has unique needs, which is why they offer extensive customization options to tailor their cranes to specific requirements.

Quality Assurance Each crane undergoes rigorous testing to ensure it meets the highest standards of quality and safety before it reaches the customer.

Customer Testimonials and Case Studies Real-World Applications Techmechcranes' products are used in various industries worldwide, from small workshops to large industrial sites.

Success Stories Numerous customers have shared success stories highlighting how Techmechcranes' solutions have improved their operations, showcasing the reliability and efficiency of their products.

Future Trends in Gantry Crane Technology Automation and Smart Cranes The future of gantry cranes is leaning towards automation and smart technologies, allowing for increased precision, efficiency, and safety.

Eco-Friendly Designs With growing environmental concerns, manufacturers are focusing on eco-friendly designs that reduce energy consumption and minimize environmental impact.

#GANTRY CRANES MANUFACTURERS

0 notes