#◇ / * （ scott parnell * answered. ）

[burygods]

nesta archeron : your hair looks really nice like that.

scott was not a steady sleeper. he tossed and turned, and it has a lot to do with the handprint on his body that constantly felt like it was burning a hole into deeper his soul and the less than stellar dreams that accompanied his slumber. so yes, he had a bit of a bedhead going on ... and he's not ashamed for it in the slightest.

" i know you're taking the piss outta me, " scott pushes himself up onto his elbows with a light grunt. " but i don't care. i know i look good. " a little bit of cocky flair, a smirk tugging at his lips as he peers over at @wandyrlust. " you can't tell me i don't look good right now, nesta. "

[devorment]

@lustwandyred → FROM NESTA TO SCOTT : prompt ↳ " [ KNEES ] : sender lowers themselves to their knees. "

scott was a man enamoured, completely enthralled with a woman that could run rings around him ... and has, many times. nesta was a woman built of fire and scott was happy enough to get burned by her --- if that was the way he'd go, let the flames of her lick at his skin.

all while her eyes remained on him she guided him to a chair, pushing him down upon it and like a ragdoll he did it. no questions asked, her obedient servant. nephilim watched as she slowly and agonizingly lowered herself to her knees before him, his tongue darting out to wetten his lips in sheer anticipation. her flames were heating his skin and the warmth felt incredible.

scott never took his eyes off her, not as long as she looked that good on her knees, not as long as her fingers made quick work of his belt and the unbuttoning of his jeans. placing both hands on the seat of the chair he assisted her in wriggling the fabric free off his skin, snaking them around his ankles. the whole show had him bulging in his boxers, his manhood practically begging to be freed, to let her do what he enjoyed her mouth doing. that same mouth could bring him pain and pleasure in equal measure --- but he loved the pleasure more, could one blame him ? ❛ ❛ fuck nesta. ❜ ❜ scott murmured, using every bit of energy in him not to take his boxers off himself and let himself bounce loose, wanting her to have absolute complete control of him ... but fuck, she hasn't even touched him yet and he's already begging for her.

[wrestlingwithhistory]

A Gentleman Never Tells - Chris Adams

Gentleman Chris Adams is a name that many people miss when they talk about wrestlers from the UK who not only did good business in the US during the 80’s but helped to train some of the biggest names in professional wrestling during the 90’s and helped to bring to light one of the most popular finishers in the industry today.

Chris Adams was born in Rugby, Warwickshire on 10th February 1955 and from a young age was involved in competitive Judo, which he continued training in exclusively for around 14 years which he earned a Black Belt in the discipline. Both he and his brother Neil competed in national and world championships, with Neil actually winning a silver medal in the 1980 and 1984 Olympics. Chris was a member of the 1976 Olympic team but never competed for Great Britain.

Chris Adams began taking part in Professional Wrestling in 1978. He had no formal training in wrestling and used his expertise in Judo in his early years of wrestling. He worked with Joint Promotions and appeared on ITV’s World of Sport regularly taking on the likes on Mark ‘Rollerball’ Rocco, Dynamite Kid, Fit Finlay, Adrian Street and Davey Boy Smith. His finishing move, originally called ‘the Judo Kick’ was later renamed a ‘Superkick’ and is still used by many professional wrestlers today.

By 1983, Adams was approached by Fritz Von Erich to work for World Class Championship Wrestling and he officially joined on 15th April, 1983. During his time with WCCW, he feuded with many of the company’s big stars, from The Von Erichs to Ric Flair, and the Fabulous Freebirds. He was tag partners with Gino Hernandez and became the second iteration of The Dynamic Duo in 1985, where one of their most notable matches was a hair match against the Von Erichs which The Duo lost and were shaved in front of a rapturous crowd.

Chris was due to go into a feud with Gino going into 1986. They had worked an angle against The Cosmic Cowboys, who were actually Kevin and Kerry Von Erich in disguise. The finish to the match was Adams being blinded by hair cream that was thrown by Hernandez, resulting in a loss against the Cowboys. Chris used this time in the storyline to go back to the UK and visit him family, but during that time, on 2nd February 1986, Gino Hernandez died of a Cocaine Overdose. Adams was questioned by Scotland Yard about Gino’s death as authorities in Texas originally treated the incident as a homicide, but this was later changed to an Overdose by officials. There is still some scepticism over Hernandez death today.

Shortly after this, Adams started to become involved in a number of high-profile altercations, many of which would hamper his career despite his talent in the ring. In June of 1986 while travelling back from a show in Puerto Rico, Adams headbutted an Airline pilot and punched a male attendant. This resulted in a 90-day jail and a $500 fine. It is believed that Adams’ belligerence was a result of being denied alcohol by an FAA inspector and that he was restrained by Kevin Von Erich in the process. By September of 1986, Adams had left WCCW to join Bill Watts’ UWF but later returned to WCCW in 1987 as UWF was absorbed into the NWA.

In UWF, Adams became tag partners with Terry Taylor, known to many as The Red Rooster in WWF in later years. They later feuded and carried this back over into the newly acquired by NWA, WCCW. Over the next few years, Adams would find himself in the upper mid-card region of the company’s talent pool, competing against many of the companies’ big stars and also working with companies like Georgia Championship Wrestling and World Wrestling Alliance.

In 1988, Chris Adams opened his own training school based out of the world-famous Dallas Sportatorium. Two of his most popular students were Scott Hall/Razor Ramon and Stone-Cold Steve Austin. In 1989, Adams was arrested and sentenced to a year’s probation after his wife was found beaten after Adams had flown into a rage, again related to his Alcohol abuse. He was later involved in more legal troubles and again place don probation for 2 DUI arrests in 1991.

After the WCCW has ceased business in 1990, Adams returned to the independent circuit. He would visit numerous territories having matches for various championships during this time. He won the GWF Heavyweight Title on 2 occasions in 1994 and also a brief stint as the NWA Heavyweight champion in 1995 after Jim Crockett had taken control of the company.

He continued wrestling with various NWA affiliated territories and other independents up until joining WCW in 1997.

When joining WCW, Chris was placed into a British stable called The Blue Bloods alongside Lord Steven Regal (later William Regal) and Squire David Taylor. This stable was not together for very long due to some personal issues between Regal and Adams which hampered the stable from becoming credible in the eyes of the WCW officials. Adams wrestled against Randy Savage in the first match of WCW’s new midweek show, Thunder in 1998. Adams got a pinfall over Savage, but the decision was overturned by JJ Dillon after interference from Lex Luger swayed the match in Adams’ favour. He began to drop down the card, working as an enhancement for other talents to get victories over. He left the company in 1999 and returned to Texas where he began promoting shows and wrestling part time.

During his career, Adams unfortunately fell victim to a number of addictions, his first with Alcohol. David Manning said in the Documentary ‘Gentleman’s Choice’ that his Alcohol dependency was heightened after a flight cancellation due to unforeseen circumstances by the airline prompted them to offer a free bar to the wrestlers on the flight, not for a few drinks but for several hours until a flight was arranged for them.

Adams was also a heavy user of GHB, which at the time was being used by bodybuilders and wrestlers alike as an alternative to steroids but it did not have the same anabolic effects as steroids and left longer addictive tendencies with the users. Many of the people using them believed that the GHB worked while they slept.

Adams and his then girlfriend Linda Kaphengst overdosed on a combination of alcohol and GHB in April 2000. Adams survived, but Kaphengst was not so lucky. The overdose starved her brain of oxygen and her family were told that should she survive, she would likely have long term brain trauma. A few hours later, her situation worsened, and her family had to make the difficult to turn off her breathing apparatus.

Adams was not originally suspected in any foul play at the time of the incident and went on to marry again in August 2001, but an intoxicated and threatening voicemail left on answer machine to Pam Hernandez stating that if she did not stop meddling in his affairs then she would ‘end up like Linda’. This voicemail was brought to the Homicide team dealing with Linda’s death and Chris was indicted on a manslaughter charge.

He was due to be indicted but the day before his hearing, he was fatally shot in the chest during a drunken fight with a close friend Brent ‘Booray’ Parnell on October 7th, 2001. Booray claimed self-defence, stating that Adams snapped off a piece of bedframe and tried to attack him with it. Booray claims in the documentary ‘Gentleman’s Choice’ that he does not know the reason for Adams’ behaviour at the time, other than asking him to keep the noise down as his mother was sleeping in the next room. He said that his eyes were black and almost demonic at the time of the fight, which is a known side effect of the drug GHB.

Booray was cleared of all charges against him as acting in self-defence.

Adams, although a clean-cut Olympic prospect from the UK, fell victim to the harsh lifestyles of living on the road as a professional wrestler. Though many still speak of him based on the poor choices he made during his life, many still speak of the apt moniker ‘Gentleman’ given to the late Judoka-turned-Wrestler.

His legacy of wrestling some of the sport’s greatest names in the 80’s and 90’s, training future hall of fame wrestlers and one of the UK’s least discussed exports is somewhat tarnished by his final days.

I have posted the link from Youtube to the 2008 documentary ‘Gentleman’s Choice’ below uploaded in full by The Hannibal TV.

If you have liked this post, please leave a review and follow for future posts.

Thanks!

https://youtu.be/-sgxAH47TsA

[samduqs]

am I going to reread hush hush just because of Scott Parnell?

the answer is: yes

[gumnut-logic]

Suits

I woke up with this scene in my head this morning and this fic is the result. It appears to be little more than a mood piece and it rambles, not really going anywhere, but it is an answer to Scott’s FabFiveFeb challenge with the prompt “What do you mean?”

As with most of my fics at the moment - SPOILERS FOR 3.25 & 3.26.

Thank you to @scribbles97​ for the cheering on and the readthrough. And apologies to @onereyofstarlight​ I kinda built on your turf :D Hope I got all my references right :D

Don’t expect too much and I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Scott straightened his tie. The soft blue silk had a calm sheen to it. Virgil, ever the colour coordinator, had given it to him last birthday and basically demanded he wear it with this suit.

Who was Scott to disagree with a practising artist? A tie was a tie, but he had to admit the blue did something to highlight his eyes. He understood that much.

Shoulders straight, he found himself brushing non-existent lint off his lapels.

Pulling his hand away, he had to admit he was nervous and the soft grey fabric was little more than a shield between him and the world.

He was standing in his room in their house in Parnell, Auckland. Through the window of his bedroom the volcanic island of Rangitoto sat in a still and grey early morning sea.

A cruise ship was entering Waitemata Harbour, the floating hotel, a slow-moving behemoth.

It echoed how he felt stuck here.

But he was a Tracy and there were necessary things that had to be done. He turned toward the door and grabbed his wallet and keys. He had left Commander Tracy in the hands of Virgil for a couple of days. His younger brother’s thoughts on that were, as always, dutiful but reluctant. One of these days Virgil would realise just how good a commander he actually was and stop fretting every time Scott left the Island for a few days.

Gordon’s eyes had sparkled.

Scott snorted to himself. The aquanaut was as much Virgil’s second as Virgil was Scott’s. Gordon would have his brother’s back.

Even while hoisting Virgil’s underwear up the flagpole.

The smile that crept onto his face at the thought of his brothers did a lot to straighten out his thoughts.

Today was necessary, but there was always tomorrow to look forward to.

He sighed and strode into the corridor and down the stairs. “Dad, you ready?”

He found his father in the living room. The man’s back was ramrod straight, his dark grey suit sharp and professional.

The pink tie was an…interesting accent.

Grey eyes caught his staring at the silk wrapped around his collar. “Alan gave it to me.”

Scott frowned and took a step closer. “Are those…flamingos?”

“Yes, they were your mother’s favourite.” The tie was a solid candy pink, but embossed in stitches in the material were small flamingos. Elegant rather than gaudy.

His dad was still tense as bowstring, which was understandable considering what they were doing today. “You look great, Dad.”

The shift in his father’s stance was subtle, but the release of tension was enough. “Thank you.” His eyes appraised Scott. “You’ve made a good choice yourself.”

Scott shrugged. “Virgil knows how to bully.”

His dad snorted. “You, too, huh?”

“Yeah.” It was said with fondness. But onto business. “Ready?”

“Lead the way.”

The car was out the front waiting as the two men strode out the front door, Scott grabbing his briefcase as they left.

It was a short drive into the CBD and one of the reasons why they had purchased the house in Parnell many years ago. Some would say it was indulgent. Scott considered it necessary for appearances.

After all, if he was going to make the board travel all the way out here, he had to have the presence to make it happen.

A couple of years after his father’s disappearance Scott had moved Tracy Industries HQ to Auckland. His reasoning was clear. Aotearoa was International Rescue’s closest neighbour. The economic landscape worked to their business advantage and IR had an arrangement with the government that allowed fast deployment of the Thunderbirds if necessary.

And it was a simple power move. Making the rest of the world come to them spoke of confidence and strength.

His father had stared at him when he told him of the financial situation Tracy Industries was currently in. Those grey eyes had widened.

“We’re worth how much?”

Scott shifted where he stood. “It was a family effort, Dad.”

And it truly had been. While Scott acted as President, John had flexed his genius and played the stockmarket in his spare time. Both Brains and Virgil patented some core new technologies, Gordon expanded their ecological interests and Alan, still in high school, had helped to launch their high-tech simulator experiences.

Scott didn’t mention the merchandise. He avoided the merchandise.

But it all came together and where Tracy Industries was worth billions when his father disappeared, after an initial stumble and drop, it had recovered once the world realised that Scott Tracy was no pushover and was now greater than it had ever been. More diverse, more powerful, just more.

Scott had sat his father down and gone through the portfolio.

“We’re in aquaculture?”

“Gordon’s coup. He funded a small time ecologically safe project enough to get it off the ground. Now we are the major supplier of several marine crops for both food and medicinal purposes.”

His Dad frowned.

“It’s strength in diversity, Dad. The sum of all supports the all.”

Those eyes pinned him. “I taught you that line.”

Scott’s lips curled. “I know.”

And now the day had come where the current President had to re-introduce the former President to the board.

The buildings slipped by as the car darted through the city. The day was grey without being cold, but it was far from the tropics he was used to. People walked the streets, traffic lights passed them by. An ambulance tore through going in the opposite direction and Scott found himself stretching to peer out the back window to see where it was going, automatically running locations through his head, his hand halfway to his lapel to call Thunderbird Five before he stopped himself.

But nothing was said in the back of the car. His father was quiet and gazed out the opposite window. Scott knew this must be hard for him, but it had to be done.

“Are you sure, Dad?” They had discussed it late one evening out on the balcony.

“I’m sure, son. It is time.”

“You don’t have to do it now, you can wait longer if you need it.”

“Do you have reservations?” His voice was quiet.

“No! I’m just worried you’re hurrying it, that’s all.”

Still quiet. “No.” His father looked out towards the horizon. “It’s time.”

But still as the car pulled up in front of the tower of glass that served as their headquarters, Scott had to admit to himself, he had his reservations.

His father had had so many challenges to face on his return. His health was the worst. The long-term damage from years in space was unavoidable. The lack of a healthy diet was almost as bad. There were months of painful rehabilitation with sorely needed respite on Five. John had been his father’s constant companion. Gordon had stepped in as his coach.

The day Scott found Gordon in tears in his bedroom would always be engraved in his memory. His little brother had just simply overflowed. The skin and bone of their father, his pain, the scars, it had all managed to chip away even Gordon’s strength. Scott ended up holding the man as he cried on his shoulder.

Scott’s eyes were far from dry.

Virgil found them there sometime later and from that point on things had changed.

International Rescue took second place for a while after that.

They still went out, but sometimes they just had to defer. Dad needed them.

Of course, their father knew nothing of the sort. The brothers fed him the information they needed to. Scott didn’t keep him in the dark, but he didn’t need to know what he didn’t need to know. The brothers had been managing IR for a long time. They did what they had to do.

Scott kept Tracy Industries and IR moving, John stayed with their father while Eos acted in his place, Virgil, Gordon and Alan divided their time between Dad and International Rescue.

Grandma moved to Auckland to look after her son.

It was a challenging year.

But Dad was back on Earth and despite the pain, they still rejoiced.

The driver opened his door and Scott was forced by propriety to climb out of the car.

His father followed.

Scott watched him look up and up.

And up.

The building was truly an architectural triumph. The tallest structure in Auckland, it was an elegant sculpture spun from ribbons of glass and greenery. It said success and it shouted it to all who saw it. Iconic and a tourist attraction it was known the world over as Tracy Tower.

“Spared no expense.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Impressive.”

“That’s the idea.” But eyes were staring in their direction. His father’s presence today had been kept quiet, but with the media in everyone’s back pocket, it wouldn’t take long for the world to realise that Jeff Tracy was making his inaugural visit to Tracy Tower. “C’mon, Dad. They’ll be waiting for us.”

“For you.”

“Yeah, well, the moment they see you, I’ll just be part of the furniture.” He shot a small smile at his father.

The smile was reflected in those grey eyes. “Then lead on.”

The doors opened for them and they strode through into the grand foyer. Scott surreptitiously watched his father as he encountered the sheer opulence of the massive entrance. When Scott had first seen the plans for the building, his eyes had nearly fallen out of his head. It was over-the-top and just screamed ‘rich and we want to show it’ that he had stormed into the architects and given them a piece of his mind.

Fortunately, Virgil and Gordon had been with him at the time and reined him in because the lead architect had looked at him calmly before pulling up a hologram of the plans and going through each key point Scott had neglected to read.

The three rescues the day and night before might have had something to do with it.

The building was an ecological masterpiece. All the art served a purpose. It had no carbon footprint. Under the glass were solar cells that generated enough electricity to power the building itself, plus half the CBD beside it. Woven into the structure were gardens that served as havens for the workers in the building and for the wildlife around it. Aotearoa was the land of birds and the Tower supported as many as was practical.

Gordon had literally been bouncing at the time.

But the foyer was what Virgil had fallen in love with. At its centre stood a holographic sculpture generating image and music from the movement around it. Where people bustled past, the artwork collected the movement and interpreted it as light and sound.

A play of colours and piano notes danced around the room. Strategically placed glass reflected and bounced it further.

“Virgil?”

Scott snorted. “You could say that. Once he saw the designs, I couldn’t keep him away from them. They are considerably different from what was originally conceived.” He shrugged. “I like to think he improved it.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his usually calm brother gesticulating enthusiastically while outlining concepts and possibilities.

Scott waved at the sculpture and, even a dozen or so metres away, it waved back and sung a soft chime.

“You boys have definitely made your mark.”

A slight frown and he turned to his father. “We only built on your work, Dad. None of this was possible without you.”

His father straightened. “It is quite an achievement.”

A shrug. “It’s useful. It does what it needs to do.” He turned to reception and showed his ID. The young man smiled and ducked his head slightly. “Welcome, Mr Tracy.” Scott grinned at the security officer.

His father held out his ID, newly minted and shiny.

Scott hid a smile as the young security guard’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. “Mister Tracy?!” There weren’t enough capital letters in the English language to appropriately punctuate those two words.

“Yes, son, that’s my name. And yours is?”

“Uh, Cameron, sir.”

“Nice to meet you, Cameron. Have you worked here long?

“Uh, just over eighteen months, sir.”

“Are you enjoying the work?”

“Yes, sir. Scott, er, Mr Tracy has been very kind.”

Scott couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, well, you’ve done an excellent job, Cameron.”

“Thank you, sir. The board are waiting in the Observatory.”

“FAB.”

Cameron’s grin was worth the small breach in protocol.

His father raised an eyebrow at Scott as they walked towards the elevator. “There’s a story there, isn’t there?”

“Yep. Had to pull Cameron out of Shackleton Nuclear Facility.”

His father stopped him in his tracks. “You went in there? That place is quarantined.”

Scott shrugged. “We do what we have to do. Cameron survived because of us. It is a success story, Dad.”

Those eyes held his a moment longer. “I’d be interested in seeing the reports.”

“They are available whenever you want to see them, Dad. I’ve told you that.” In fact, it had worried Scott that his father hadn’t jumped into the mission reports almost immediately. It as if he was reluctant to look into what he had missed.

It was understandable, but it was a concern nonetheless.

The elevator arrived as they approached and another security guard waved them in.

It didn’t take very long to get to the top of the building and the doors opened into the light an airy space that was the Observatory.

This was Virgil’s ode to John.

The engineer and artist had seen the plans for the rooftop space and immediately made suggestions. Scott wasn’t sure if you could stargaze in the middle of the city, but Virgil and the architects certainly did their best to make it appear as if you could.

The massive function area consisted of a glass enclosure that was the apex or the building. At night, lights shone on the glass in perfect constellations for the southern hemisphere. Even Scott was impressed.

During the day, the glass mosaicked shadows on the floor tiles that created those same constellations in lines.

Virgil hadn’t been the designer, but he had poked the team until they came up with this. To be honest, it was Scott’s favourite place for a board meeting.

It kept him close to the sky.

Gardens wove around the centre of the structure and when the meetings broke, there was plenty of fresh air and greenery to breathe in.

Today it was as grey as the ocean in the distance. Rangitoto Island defied the grey with its green volcanic cone.

The cruise ship had made dock.

Scott straightened his shoulders and stepped out of the elevator.

Immediately, every eye in the room turned and targeted him.

A moment later, every single eye slipped off him and landed on his father as he stepped out behind him.

“Mister Tracy!”

The name fell from the lips of Janine, Scott’s secretary who was there ready to take minutes.

“Well, are you just going to stand there or come in and take a seat?”

Scott couldn’t help but smile. “Captain Taylor.” A nod of greeting. “How was your trip from Mars?”

“Oh, Albert was excellent as always.”

Scott snorted as behind the astronaut, Alan, dressed neatly in a suit, rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Virgil, dressed in a grey almost as dark as his hair, emerged from the crowd, his eyes bright. “Hey, Dad, Scott.” He held out his hand to his father. “Welcome to Tracy Industries, Mister Tracy.” And yes, there was an amused smirk on his brother’s face.

Their Dad took Virgil’s hand, puzzlement on his face. “Virgil, what are you doing here? I thought you had command?”

The engineer tilted his head a little. “Well, sir, this is a full board meeting. Two is not far away, we can move fast enough. I can guarantee it.” There it was, the leader that was his younger brother even if the man didn’t see it himself.

“But at the moment, all of us are required to be here.” A flash of red hair and John stepped up from behind them. His suit a deep blue grey paired with his signature turquoise tie.

“What do you mean?”

Gordon appeared beside John, his smart pinstripe suit looking almost alien on the aquanaut…until you looked closer and realised there were purple octopuses on his tie and he was wearing sandals.

Scott rolled his eyes. He gave up. Gordon was never going to conform. It made him want to throttle him for it and yet love him even more.

“Jeff, dear.” A slim hand slipped around Gordon’s arm and Lady Penelope, all blonde and pink perfection, smiled up at his father. “You have to realise that your sons are all on the Tracy Industries board. Along with myself and Captain Taylor, of course.

His father spun to stare at Scott.

He just shrugged. “It’s a family business, Dad.”

Alan stepped forward. “Aunt Val sends her apologies. She is caught up in the States.”

His Dad was still staring at him. “But what about all those board member portfolios you shared with me?”

Scott tilted his head just a little. “They are board members, Dad. But so are we. We don’t have the luxury of be available for all meetings, but we do what we can. The quorum manage and keep us apprised.”

Lips thinned. “So why didn’t you tell me?”

Scott let out a breath. “Dad, if you knew we were all on the board, would it have affected your decision?”

Those eyes held his, but Scott could see the concern behind the grey. He knew this had been a very hard decision for his father and had wanted to support him in any way possible. It had been John who suggested they keep the family out of the equation, to hopefully put less stress on their father.

Mister Tracy frowned. “I guess we will never know.”

Scott didn’t smile, but he let a little hope flare at that statement. “Shall we call the meeting to order?”

A single nod from his father. Scott waved his brothers to their seats at the broad conference table to one side of the room. The non-family members of the board only had eyes for the elder Tracy.

Virgil slipped in next to Scott. Whispered. “FAB?” How’s Dad?

Equally quiet. “FAB.” Okay, but the same. They had both been worried that this was too soon, but Their father was as stubborn as the rest of them and wanted to do it now.

Virgil sat to his right as he always did, John to his left. Gordon slid over one with Alan and their father sat next to Virgil.

Scott didn’t sit down, but stood standing at the head of the table, a good twenty people staring at him…when they weren’t darting glances at his father.

A bird landed on the glass far above, its feet clattering against the surface.

“Thank you all for your attendance today for this special meeting of the Tracy Industries International Board.” He drew in a breath. “As the first item of business, I would like to announce my resignation as President.”

Several members gasped out loud. Janine let out a high-pitched squeak. A ‘no’ was whispered from the back of the room. Scott held up a hand and a respectful silence fell. “I don’t do this lightly and it is not for personal reasons, but for the betterment of Tracy Industries.” He straightened his shoulders. “I move to nominate my father, Jeff Tracy, to return to his rightful position as President of this company. Do I have a second?”

Six hands shot into the air.

The rest of the room sat in stunned silence.

“It will be noted that the motion was passed and that the board will vote, pending any additional nominations as per the constitution.”

The silence was profound.

The bird on the roof chattered to itself.

Scott caught his father’s eye and smiled.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[books-in-a-storm]

Star Rating Review

Title: Crescendo(Hush, Hush #2)

Author: Becca Fitzpatrick

Pages:432

Rating:⭐⭐⭐⭐(4/5)

Synopsis: Nora Grey's life is still far from perfect. Surviving an attempt on her life wasn't pleasant, but at least she got a guardian angel out of it. A mysterious, magnetic, gorgeous guardian angel. But despite his role in her life, Patch has been acting anything but angelic. He's more elusive than ever (if that's possible) and what's worse, he seems to be spending time with Nora's archenemy, Marcie Millar. Nora would have hardly noticed Scott Parnell, an old family friend who has moved back to town, if Patch hadn't been acting so distant. Even with Scott's totally infuriating attitude, Nora finds herself drawn to him - despite her lingering feelings that he is hiding something. If that weren't enough, Nora is haunted by images of her murdered father, and comes to question whether her Nephilim bloodline has anything to do with his death. Desperate to figure out what happened, she puts herself in increasingly dangerous situations to get the answer. But maybe some things are better left buried, because the truth could destroy everything - and everyone - she trusts.

Read Again: YES/ NO/ MAYBE

First And Last Sentence: Here

[marcellinoisaian]

Crescendo (Hush, Hush, #2) - Becca Fitzpatrick

    Read/Download Visit : https://kindleebs.xyz/?book=7791997

Book Synopsis :

Nora Grey's life is still far from perfect. Surviving an attempt on her life wasn't pleasant, but at least she got a guardian angel out of it. A mysterious, magnetic, gorgeous guardian angel. But despite his role in her life, Patch has been acting anything but angelic. He's more elusive than ever (if that's possible) and what's worse, he seems to be spending time with Nora's archenemy, Marcie Millar.Nora would have hardly noticed Scott Parnell, an old family friend who has moved back to town, if Patch hadn't been acting so distant. Even with Scott's totally infuriating attitude, Nora finds herself drawn to him - despite her lingering feelings that he is hiding something.If that weren't enough, Nora is haunted by images of her murdered father, and comes to question whether her Nephilim bloodline has anything to do with his death. Desperate to figure out what happened, she puts herself in increasingly dangerous situations to get the answer. But maybe some things are better left buried,

[riyazmattix]

Crescendo (Hush, Hush, #2) - Becca Fitzpatrick

    Read/Download Visit : https://kindleebs.xyz/?book=7791997

Book Synopsis :

Nora Grey's life is still far from perfect. Surviving an attempt on her life wasn't pleasant, but at least she got a guardian angel out of it. A mysterious, magnetic, gorgeous guardian angel. But despite his role in her life, Patch has been acting anything but angelic. He's more elusive than ever (if that's possible) and what's worse, he seems to be spending time with Nora's archenemy, Marcie Millar.Nora would have hardly noticed Scott Parnell, an old family friend who has moved back to town, if Patch hadn't been acting so distant. Even with Scott's totally infuriating attitude, Nora finds herself drawn to him - despite her lingering feelings that he is hiding something.If that weren't enough, Nora is haunted by images of her murdered father, and comes to question whether her Nephilim bloodline has anything to do with his death. Desperate to figure out what happened, she puts herself in increasingly dangerous situations to get the answer. But maybe some things are better left buried,

[reymundofinnigan]

Crescendo (Hush, Hush, #2) - Becca Fitzpatrick

    Read/Download Visit : https://kindleebs.xyz/?book=7791997

Book Synopsis :

Nora Grey's life is still far from perfect. Surviving an attempt on her life wasn't pleasant, but at least she got a guardian angel out of it. A mysterious, magnetic, gorgeous guardian angel. But despite his role in her life, Patch has been acting anything but angelic. He's more elusive than ever (if that's possible) and what's worse, he seems to be spending time with Nora's archenemy, Marcie Millar.Nora would have hardly noticed Scott Parnell, an old family friend who has moved back to town, if Patch hadn't been acting so distant. Even with Scott's totally infuriating attitude, Nora finds herself drawn to him - despite her lingering feelings that he is hiding something.If that weren't enough, Nora is haunted by images of her murdered father, and comes to question whether her Nephilim bloodline has anything to do with his death. Desperate to figure out what happened, she puts herself in increasingly dangerous situations to get the answer. But maybe some things are better left buried,

[teenwolfhot]

Missing stiles stilinksi imagine part 2

Stiles was blinking Scott didn’t have words till “ young woman please state how you know this person” the detective pointing to the photo of an older woman with long (y/c/h) and eye bags that could consider eye serum needed “ I don’t… I just know… Lydia looking at the woman picture the two detective laughed” get this woman out of here “ stiles snapped back” hey…. Hey…. Hey… Hey… She’s my girlfriend unhand her “the two detective didn’t say a word

” lydia… Lydia… What are you saying you know something….“ stiles looked back at the file "lydia you’re not one of the children were you?” lydia slowly settled in the chair “ I’m…. Having… Having…ummm flashback” years falling down her face ever since lydia found out she was a banshee upside down

“lydia your not making any sense even if your my girlfriend..lydia this scenario is worst this…this woman was raped… Beaten and suffers ptsd so… How did you know her” Scott asking lydia slowly she wasnt looking up she was leaning down and her eyes glistening

“ I don’t know ” two detective walked back “ alright stilinksi… McCall…. This woman is now in the hands of a US and she’s currently at JFK airport with full police clearance and protection…. She have to be safely and will have people round her at all time… Furthermore she will have a watch dog…. ” stiles and Scott gear up" what else? “ the detective looked at stiles” we may have a suspect… Name parnell… Mathew parnell he was a substitute teacher at the time (y/n) (l/n) was in school “

———————————

At the airport

* flashing lights camera everywhere screaming questions *

” we have to find a more secure place for this woman she’s headlining everywhere" the guards trying to guard you while you keep your face down “ may…may… May… I… I… I go to the toilet” the guard looked round “ someone get the other woman now”

They were frigil with you “ miss (l/n) don’t worry we will be out soon” photographer screaming and paparazzi trying to get your attention

“ hi I’m hermione tilly ill be with you till you get back to your natural state” the woman dressed in black smiling at you “ I… I… I… I would… Like… Like… To… To me.. To use the…. Toilet” you were so weak you fainted

“ help… Help… HELP!!”

———————-

“ what’s going on?” stiles and Scott arriving at the hospital where the woman being held “ this nurse says that the woman fainted at the airport due to nutrition and sleep” the detective put his hands in his hips “ (Y/N)… (Y/N)…. (Y/N)” older man and woman shouting at officer “that’s our girl… That’s our daughter… Our daughter… We want to see her… She’s our daughter” stiles sighed and Scott walked up two the couple “ I’m Scott McCall with the FBI may I state your name please?” looking at the couple “were Mrs and Mrs (y/l/n)” stiles whipped round and looked at the couple

“ Mr and Mrs (l/n) this isn’t the right plaxr for both of you…. We would like to interview (y/n) first and get answers… Plus we do have a suspect names parnell”

The older woman started crying while the older man hugged her “ what’s wrong?”

“ Mr parnell looked after our daughter while we sometimes had dinner without our daughter”

Stiles thinking while Scott checking purnell background the whole place was havoc

Suddenly.......

[junker-town]

Geoff Schwartz’s NFL mailbag: What does it mean when a lineman has ‘violent hands’?

You have football questions; retired NFL lineman Geoff Schwartz has answers!

Welcome to my first ever mailbag to SB Nation NFL! I’m excited to do these. I always enjoy the fan interaction and this is another way for y’all to get involved.

Y’all can ask non offensive lineman questions as well. I cover it all.

That being said, we will start with a question about offensive lineman

During draft season, when guys are evaluating linemen, they will comment that a guy has “violent hands.” I know a lineman’s punch is important, but I don’t get what “violent hands” means. Can you explain and also provide an example or two?

(From Scott M)

Well, a lineman’s punch is uber important, and depending on your natural leverage, it’s even more important. The term “violent hands” is often used when discussing pass protection, because it’s easier to notice a punch and it’s the main recourse to stop a pass rush.

A proper punch isn’t generated from the chest, but rather from the back and core. A proper punch should jolt the defender and change his course. It’s noticeable when a lineman has “violent hands.”

Here is the Jaguars Jeremy Parnell showing and using violent hands. That punch is noticeably different than most. Those are violent hands.

I've worked wt a lot of OL, 78 has the heaviest hands I've come across! The stones to 2-hand punch there #EyesOnOLine#OLineAfterDark pic.twitter.com/7Ns270dI9O

— Duke Manyweather (@BigDuke50) September 28, 2017

What is your opinion of the quality of play in the NFL? My take is that it is somewhat boring, or more than it should be. I’ve been a football geek since the seventies and I know that much has been done — and should have — to improve player safety. Nevertheless, I’m seeing soft tackling, too much o-line finesse stuff and the officiating is just awful. This is a physically violent sport. Can’t we have real football again?

(From Bod DC)

Good question Bob and this subject is something I often discuss. As far as the NFL not being as physically violent as in the past, I disagree with that. There are precautions put in place to help prevent head injuries or lessen the impact of those injuries, which is a much needed addition to the game. That being said, the game is still ridiculously violent. The athletes are bigger, faster, quicker and stronger than ever before and the collisions on the field prove that.

To your second point about the soft tackling and OL finesse, well, that is a function of less practice time. I agree with both those assessments, and it’s often worse early and gradually improves over the season. Those two issues aren’t changing. Practice times won’t be increased and days in pads will not change. And with the college game hitting less and less during practice, the kids entering the NFL are already behind in those skills.

And your last comment on officiating. I’ll respectfully disagree here. I think the officials do a fine job considering how fast the game is played. Remember, we are sitting at home watching these games with super slo mo camera replays. The officials are doing it in real time. They get more right than wrong.

What should the punishment be for coaches/management that waste years of great players? Bengals and [AJ] Green, Green Bay and Aaron [Rodgers], etc.? I’m thinking barring them from TV gigs after being fired.

(From Kyle B)

Excellent question. It’s something I’d never thought of. The best “punishment” would be not getting hired again for the same job, but we know that rarely happens. The NFL coaching and management circle is so small and everyone gets hired by their buddies. Fans being vocal about the lack of success can also make things uncomfortable for the front office.

I’m not sure any GM would ever agree to a contract that’s tied to team performance. If you win X amount of games, you get X amount of money. Just one issue I see with some of these is injuries. You can’t predict injuries and your season can be derailed with just a single injury to your quarterback through no fault of any management or the coaches.

Should the NFL Draft be held at an earlier date? I’m kind of tried of these ridiculous pre-draft build up stories ... granted they won’t go anywhere anytime soon, but we would get less of it. Also, what do you think about the idea of holding the draft first then starting the free agency period after?

(From Jason O)

The pre-draft period fuels the content for this time of the year! As someone who’s in the media this is fantastic. With all the coverage surrounding the draft and with attention made to the slightest newsworthy item of a top prospect, I can see how it’s frustrating. I generally don’t pay attention to mock drafts until a week or two before the draft, therefore I’m not getting too worked up over picks made to generate clicks. Remember as well, the NFL wants to dominate every month on the calendar; that’s why the draft keeps getting moved back.

As far as holding the draft first, then free agency … I have a feeling it would greatly devalue the free agent market. Let’s use this offseason as an example. Nate Solder gets paid a shit ton by the Giants to play left tackle. If the draft was before free agency and the Giants drafted a left tackle in any of the first three rounds, Solder isn’t signing there and his market could dry up.

Lastly, there is already barely a market for veteran offensive lineman, and if free agency was after the draft, teams would just use their lower level picks for lineman. I’m all for players getting paid, so I’d keep free agency where it is.

What NFL positions will become more important as time goes by?

(From Alex P)

It has to be a nickel corner. Teams are now in 11 personnel over 60 percent of the time, and that number will continue to rise. Offenses are now using more motions, stack formations and shifts to get their best receiver into good matchups, even if that’s in the slot. So your slot corner must be a stud. Also, with tight ends playing in the slot as almost wide receivers, having a nickel corner who can be physical is a must.

[rawstreetjournal-blog]

GOP Operative Close to Obtaining Hilary Clinton Emails Found Dead

Peter W. Smith maintained his blog religiously and right up to his death, wrote a blog post saying that there was no Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election.

Peter W. Smith, a wealthy GOPAC donor and independent GOP operative who was close to obtaining the 33,000 deleted emails from Hilary Clinton's private server was suddenly found dead in what was made to look like a suicide.

Rochester, MN - While the left-wing media continue to obsess about President Donald Trumps' alleged links to Russians who may have interfered in the 2016 presidential election, another more important story goes unnoticed.

According to recently released autopsy records, Peter W. Smith, an 81-year old GOP operative who said he tried to obtain Hillary Clinton's emails from Russian hackers, was found dead in a Rochester, Minnesota hotel room on May 14. According to the Chicago Tribune, who obtained a copy of the state death record, Smith committed suicide in the hotel on that date.

The Tribune reported that Smith, a longtime opposition researcher for the GOP, "mounted an independent campaign to obtain emails he believed were stolen by Hillary Clinton's private server, likely by Russian hackers" and implied he was working with Gen. Michael Flynn, then a senior adviser to then-candidate Donald Trump.

Smith said he had created a team to find the emails that might have been stolen by hackers during Clinton's tenure as U.S. Secretary of State, although the Tribune reported Smith was focused on obtaining the 30,000 emails Clinton claimed she deleted because they were personal.

In Smith's hotel room, he left a "statement police called a suicide note in which he said he was in ill health and a life insurance policy was expiring," the Tribune reported. In the note recovered by police, Smith apologized to authorities and said that "NO FOUL PLAY WHATSOEVER" was involved in his death.

His death, which a police chief called "unusual," had been recorded as "asphyxiation due to displacement of oxygen in a confined space with helium." Smith was found with a bag over his head and a helium source attached.

According to the Tribune, Smith wrote two blog posts before his death, one challenging the U.S. intelligence community's findings that Russia interfered in the 2016 election and another "predicting" that "the Russian interference story will die of its own weight."

The night before he died, Smith tweeted,not to blame the Russians for election interference as there was no evidence to support the claim.

According to a source from Smith's Clinton email team, there were never any signs that Smith was suicidal,

"He was always talking about how it was extremely important that we get the 30,000 emails Clinton deleted, he said that 'the answer was there' but didn't elaborate."

Another source close to Smith said that he was aware of Smith's health issues, but that it wasn't something he talked about on a regular basis,

"We were very close to getting the Clinton emails. The Russian hackers wanted a lot for it and we were in the process of negotiation...that he would kill himself...it just doesn't make sense."

Smith's death adds to the long list of bodies that have shown up on the Clinton trail and that list is substantial.

The Trail of Bodies Left Behind in the Wake of the Clintons

James McDougal – Clinton’s convicted Whitewater partner died of an apparent heart attack, while in solitary confinement. He was a key witness in Ken Starr’s investigation.

Mary Mahoney – A former White House intern was murdered July 1997 at a Starbucks Coffee Shop in Georgetown. The murder happened just after she was to go public with her story of sexual harassment in the White House.

Vince Foster – Former white House councilor, and colleague of Hillary Clinton at Little Rock’s Rose Law firm. Died of a gunshot wound to the head, ruled a suicide.

Ron Brown – Secretary of Commerce and former DNC Chairman. Reported to have died by impact in a plane crash. A pathologist close to the investigation reported that there was a hole in the top of Brown’s skull resembling a gunshot wound. At the time of his death Brown was being investigated, and spoke publicly of his willingness to cut a deal with prosecutors.

C. Victor Raiser II and Montgomery Raiser, Major players in the Clinton fund raising organization died in a private plane crash in July 1992.

Paul Tulley – Democratic National Committee Political Director found dead in a hotel room in Little Rock, September 1992. He was described by Clinton as a "Dear friend and trusted advisor."

Ed Willey – Clinton fund raiser, found dead November 1993 deep in the woods in VA of a gunshot wound to the head. Ruled a suicide. Ed Willey died on the same day his wife Kathleen Willey claimed Bill Clinton groped her in the oval office in the White House. Ed Willey was involved in several Clinton fund raising events.

Jerry Parks – Head of Clinton’s gubernatorial security team in Little Rock. Gunned down in his car at a deserted intersection outside Little Rock. Park’s son said his father was building a dossier on Clinton. He allegedly threatened to reveal this information. After he died the files were mysteriously removed from his house.

James Bunch – Died from a gunshot suicide. It was reported that he had a “Black Book” of people which contained names of influential people who visited prostitutes in Texas and Arkansas.

James Wilson – Was found dead in May 1993 from an apparent hanging suicide. He was reported to have ties to Whitewater.

Kathy Ferguson, ex-wife of Arkansas Trooper Danny Ferguson, was found dead in May 1994, in her living room with a gunshot to her head. It was ruled a suicide even though there were several packed suitcases, as if she were going somewhere. Danny Ferguson was a co-defendant along with Bill Clinton in the Paula Jones lawsuit. Kathy Ferguson was a possible corroborating witness for Paula Jones.

Bill Shelton – Arkansas State Trooper and fiancee of Kathy Ferguson. Critical of the suicide ruling of his fiancee, he was found dead in June, 1994 of a gunshot wound also ruled a suicide at the grave site of his fiancee.

Gandy Baugh – Attorney for Clinton’s friend Dan Lassater, died by jumping out a window of a tall building January, 1994. His client was a convicted drug distributor.

Florence Martin – Accountant & sub-contractor for the CIA, was related to the Barry Seal Mena Airport drug smuggling case. He died of three gunshot wounds.

Suzanne Coleman – Reportedly had an affair with Clinton when he was Arkansas Attorney General. Died of a gunshot wound to the back of the head, ruled a suicide. Was pregnant at the time of her death.

Paula Grober – Clinton’s speech interpreter for the deaf from 1978 until her death December 9, 1992. She died in a one car accident.

Danny Casolaro – Investigative reporter. Investigating Mena Airport and Arkansas Development Finance Authority. He slit his wrists, apparently, in the middle of his investigation.

Paul Wilcher – Attorney investigating corruption at Mena Airport with Casolaro and the 1980 “October Surprise” was found dead on a toilet June 22, 1993 in his Washington DC apartment. Had delivered a report to Janet Reno three weeks before his death

Jon Parnell Walker – Whitewater investigator for Resolution Trust Corp. Jumped to his death from his Arlington, Virginia apartment balcony August15, 1993. He was investigating the Morgan Guarantee scandal.

Barbara Wise – Commerce Department staffer. Worked closely with Ron Brown and John Huang. Cause of death unknown. Died November 29, 1996. Her bruised, nude body was found locked in her office at the Department of Commerce.

Charles Meissner – Assistant Secretary of Commerce who gave John Huang special security clearance, died shortly thereafter in a small plane crash.

Dr. Stanley Heard – Chairman of the National Chiropractic Health Care Advisory Committee, died with his attorney Steve Dickson in a small plane crash. Dr. Heard, in addition to serving on Clinton’s advisory council personally treated Clinton’s mother, stepfather and brother.

Barry Seal – Drug running pilot out of Mena, Arkansas, death was no accident.

Johnny Lawhorn Jr. – Mechanic, found a check made out to Bill Clinton in the trunk of a car left at his repair shop. He was found dead after his car had hit a utility pole.

Stanley Huggins – Investigated Madison Guarantee. His death was a purported suicide and his report was never released.

Hershell Friday – Attorney and Clinton fund raiser died March 1, 1994 when his plane exploded.

Kevin Ives and Don Henry – Known as "The boys on the track" case. Reports say the boys may have stumbled upon the Mena Arkansas airport drug operation. A controversial case, the initial report of death said, due to falling asleep on railroad tracks. Later reports claim the two boys had been slain before being placed on the tracks. Many linked to the case died before their testimony could come before a Grand Jury.

Keith Coney – Died when his motorcycle slammed into the back of a truck, July 1988.

Keith McMaskle – Died stabbed 113 times, Nov, 1988

Gregory Collins – Died from a gunshot wound January 1989.

Jeff Rhodes – He was shot, mutilated and found burned in a trash dump in April 1989.

James Milan – Found decapitated. However, the Coroner ruled his death was due to "natural

Jordan Kettleson – Was found shot to death in the front seat of his pickup truck in June 1990.

Richard Winters – A suspect in the Ives / Henry deaths. He was killed in a set-up robbery July 1989.

Major William S. Barkley Jr. - Clinton bodyguard.

Captain Scott J. Reynolds - Clinton bodyguard.

Sgt. Brian Hanley - Clinton bodyguard.

Sgt. Tim Sabel - Clinton bodyguard.

Major General William Robertson - Clinton bodyguard

Col. William Densberger - Clinton bodyguard.

Col. Robert Kelly - Clinton bodyguard.

Spec. Gary Rhodes - Clinton bodyguard.

Steve Willis - Clinton bodyguard.

Robert Williams - Clinton bodyguard.

Conway LeBleu - Clinton bodyguard.

Todd McKeehan - Clinton bodyguard.

Molly Macauly - World-renowned "space economist" was brutally murdered in Baltimore park.

John Ashe- The former President of the U.N. General Assembly was awaiting trial on bribery charges when he turned up dead in June, apparently having crushed his own windpipe while lifting weights in his home.

Victor Thorn - Prominent Clinton critic, Thorn was found dead of apparent suicide on his birthday.

Seth Rich - Democratic National Committee (DNC) employee with access to DNC email servers where Hilary Clinton deleted some 30,000 emails.

Joe Montano - Filipino-American activist and aide to Sen. Tim Kaine, Hilary Clinton's running mate in the 2016 presidential election dies at 47 of an apparent heart attack.

Shawn Lucas - Death of DNC Lawsuit Processor Shawn Lucas by accidental polypharmacy, which is death from an overdose of prescription drugs. Lucas was a vocal critic of the Hilary Clinton presidential campaign and alleged that Clinton had used fraudulent means to rig the Democratic primary process to favor Hilary Clinton over Bernie Sanders.

Of the 50-odd deaths of people closely associated with the Clintons and Hilary Clinton, 10 of them were suicides, whereas the rest were either murders or made to look like accidents.

Helium as a Tool for Suicide

Pathological experts we spoke to say that death by helium poisoning is one of the easiest deaths to fake. According to one pathologist,

"Using helium to kill yourself is not what many people think it is. The way you kill yourself is that the helium slowly displaces the oxygen that you need to breathe."

"Over time, you lose consciousness and eventually you die from asphyxiation."

The problem however is proof that a person died using helium because the helium is not ingested into the body and does not stay in the body long after the person's death, cause of death is often determined by circumstantial evidence, such as a helium tank being found near the body. Unlike carbon monoxide poisoning which can easily be detected, helium is actually a trace element in the body and is found in the body naturally. It's the reason why you won't die if you inhale from a helium balloon to give yourself a squeaky voice.

In the case of Smith, when the helium tank was found near his body, the suicide note as well as the helium 'suicide bag', it was easy for the police to conclude that it was a helium suicide. It's a well-known secret that after years of funding cuts by the Obama administration, many police departments are overworked and understaffed and the Rochester Police Department is no different. Rochester is a relatively small city with a population of about 112,225 people based on the 2015 census, but the police department struggles to cope with the workload. According to one law enforcement official we spoke to,

"The caseload is ridiculous. If it looks like a suicide, if it smells like a suicide, we're going to take it that it was a suicide."

Smith was not from Rochester and the officers inspecting the crime scene at the time had no idea who he was and had no reason to think that his death was anything more than a suicide. The suicide note, the suicide paraphernalia made it easy to close the case and move on. Smith has always kept a low profile being a GOP operative, especially when it came to investigating Hilary Clinton's 30,000 deleted emails from her private server with the DNC.

According to one GOP staffer close to Smith,

"He (Smith) felt like he was getting closer to obtaining those emails. The Russian hackers were willing to negotiate terms and the emails that they did release as proof that they had hacked the DNC server were extremely incriminating."

"Smith wanted more naturally and was excited that he would get his hands on the emails soon."

The Russian hackers had managed to hack the DNC servers before Hilary Clinton had had a chance to use a software program to delete the 33,000 emails in her private server. The software program known as BleachBit that Clinton used was meant to ensure that the deleted emails were unrecoverable. BleachBit is not any simple software program and beyond simply deleting files, BleachBit includes advanced features such as shredding files to prevent recovery, wiping free disk space to hide traces of files deleted by other applications, and vacuuming Firefox to make it faster. If as Clinton claims that the emails were private emails about Chelsea Clinton's wedding plans and yoga routines, why the need to firebomb the emails? We all have mundane private emails, which we usually delete into our email's trash can and then we empty the trash. We don't use a nuke when a shovel will do. In Clinton's case, she deleted her emails with the software equivalent of a nuke. According to Clive McKenzie, a software engineer from Des Moines,

"BleachBit isn't the sort of program you'd use unless you were really trying to clean up after something. Even if you were running out of server space, that's not the first choice you'd make."

So why would anyone want Peter W. Smith dead?

Members of Smith's email team say that he was planning meetings for the weeks subsequent to his death. One member even went as far as to say,

"Before Pete died, he seemed paranoid. He's used to being followed but he was acting as if something bigger might be up."

"He just seemed more paranoid than usual."

There are also many problems with the investigation of the hotel room Smith was found dead in. As soon as law enforcement officials determined that the cause of death was a likely suicide, they didn't need to call in homicide detectives or conduct any forensic investigations to determine 'foul play', besides in Smith's alleged suicide note, he explicitly said there was 'no foul play whatsoever'. Consider this, how many people would write such a thing in a suicide note?

There was no examination of the various cameras that covered the main lobby of the hotel, nor was there any evidence that Smith had hauled a helium tank up to his room. There is also no record of Smith purchasing a helium tank as well. There was no need to investigate any of these things because the local police did not treat Smith's death as a homicide. No witnesses were questioned and no investigation was carried out. The perfect crime.

The alleged suicide note written by Smith also claims that he was killing himself because he was in ill health and his $5 million life insurance policy was expiring. Yet there are no medical records to suggest that Smith was in ill health and since Smith's death was not considered a murder, there was no reason to conduct an autopsy to determine if he was indeed in ill health. Smith was also not someone who needed the money. Smith was one of GOPAC's top 20 donors and had donated money to Newt Gingrich's GOPAC in the 1990s to discredit Bill Clinton with allegations about his personal life. Furthermore, Smith's death certificate was particularly difficult to obtain. In early July, The Palmer Report shared the great difficulty they were having in tracking the death certificate down.

We know that Smith and his team were very close to closing a deal with the Russian hackers to obtain the 33,000 deleted Clinton emails. Smith had publicly confirmed in an interview with the Wall Street Journal that 5 hacker groups had sufficiently demonstrated that they had the cache of emails, so why would he take his own life so close to completing his mission?

In any criminal investigation, when all the other possibilities are eliminated, the one that remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

To date, the content of the 33,000 deleted Clinton emails is not known and if there was any incriminating information in those emails, it's obvious that the Clintons would benefit the most from Smith's death. Couple that with the murder of Seth Rich, who was the process server at the DNC and had access to Clinton's private email server and a motive for Smith's murder becomes even more apparent.

Unfortunately, too much time has passed from Smith's passing to the present moment such that the conduct of a proper autopsy would yield little if any clues, if Smith was killed by asphyxiation, there are numerous ways which this can be achieved, including through a compromised air system into his particular hotel room. It would be all too easy to dismiss Smith's death as a suicide and nothing more. However, the circumstances surrounding which Smith died, the lack of any further investigation into his alleged suicide, how close he was to obtaining the deleted Clinton emails and the lack of proper motive for his suicide and an obvious motive for his murder all point to foul play.

[gumnut-logic]

When the World Goes Boom (Part Four)

This bit was a challenge to write. I’ve actually moved into writing stuff down for the planning of this fic so things are getting more complicated. I would really like to know why I suddenly can’t write short fic anymore. This one is over 7000 words now with plenty to go ::sigh:: I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Spoilers & Warnings: Spoilers for season three, angst, 2115 words

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @i-am-chidorixblossom​ for putting up with my crazy and reading this at random moments.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

-o-o-o-

Gordon accompanied Grandma back to the hospital. His father’s voice had been almost vacant of emotion when he made the request. Scott is asking for his grandmother, can you please come back in.

It wasn’t really a question.

Grandma shot him a worried look as he grabbed his wallet. John was still in the house office. Gordon had tried to speak to his brother, but Eos had growled at him at the door.

He got the message.

Didn’t stop him from worrying.

He recognised they were in a bad spot, but the outlook was positive. Alan was going to get better; Scott should recover soon. It was hard, but not insurmountable and he fought to maintain his positivity. He had to think positive. That was the key to everything.

Grandma was ever so quiet. There was none of her usually bubbly chatter. Instead it was replaced with a silent frown, thoughts obviously churning behind those eyes. It was disturbing. She hadn’t offered to cook a meal since they got here.

“They are getting better, Grandma.”

She blinked and looked over at him. “I know, honey.” A critical blue eye appraised his clothing. “You should bring a jacket. We’re not in the tropics at the moment.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Grandma.”

She had dragged him and Virgil back here late last night, determined that he sleep in his own bed. Gordon hadn’t wanted too. He would rather have stayed with Alan. But his grandmother pointed out, and rightly so, that Alan was sleeping with medication tonight and would be fine under the care of the hospital. Gordon needed his sleep and he needed to go home.

Sure, Gordon needed to go home. This just wasn’t home.

But both brothers did as they were asked.

Somehow Virgil was gone before Gordon woke.

He suspected his older brother was taking his coffee intravenously to be out of bed that early. But he left a note and Gordon was to take the baton after Alan’s dressing changes.

Gordon’s lips thinned just thinking about that, but it meant he was going into the hospital anyway. Their father’s request was just timely.

The house in Parnell was close to everything important in Auckland, including the hospital. The early morning sun was bright and the view across the bay was blue and clear. His body ached for the water, but it wasn’t happening. He turned back to the car and forced a smile at the driver. He got a sad smile in return.

The drive was short, the hospital entrance like a maw, just like all hospital entrances, as he stepped into another world behind those doors.

A world from which he was willing to do anything to free his brothers.

Being Tracys they did get a little extra special treatment. Well, special in the way that they had to have it due to their celebrity. Scott and Alan’s room was separate from the main ICU, hidden away and secured by IR security and Kayo. Once past the guards, a small empty corridor led to three lonely chairs sat against stark white walls beside a door.

His footsteps echoed on the scrubbed linoleum.

Grandma gently took his wrist. “Gordon.” Blue eyes looked into his. “Could you please go and find Virgil and Alan?”

A frown. “Are you okay, Grandma?”

“I’m fine, honey. I just need to speak to your father.”

Alone.

It wasn’t said, but he got the message. “Okay, Grandma. Comm me, if you need me.”

“Always.” A soft smile and her hand briefly cupped his cheek.

He knew his smile in return was weak, but he gave it what he had.

As he turned to leave, the door opened and his tired father emerged. Gordon stopped in his tracks. Dad looked awful. Pale, bags under his eyes, immediate flashbacks to the early days of his return had Gordon’s heart thudding in his chest. A step forward, but Grandma grabbed his wrist again.

“Go find Alan, honey.”

A glance between his father and grandmother. “Okay, Grandma.” His hand wrapped around hers. “Comm me.”

She nodded once and let him go.

A nod, a smile at his father and he spun on his heel and strode back down the corridor.

Worry on his heels.

-o-o-o-

Sally Tracy was tired. But all the Tracys were tired so this was nothing special. Until all her boys were healthy and back with her on the Island, she wouldn’t be happy.

Jeff was overdoing it, of course. Her five grandsons inherited their stubbornness honestly from both sides of their gene pool. Lucy had been just as bad.

She looked up at her son and as always wondered how he had gotten so tall. She would always remember the tiny baby in her arms oh so long ago. He had grown into a man of who she was ever so proud, but the crick in her neck was becoming chronic.

Gordon was a relief.

Not that she would ever tell him.

“Jefferson, you should go home.”

“I plan to.” It was said with such depression her heart skipped a beat.

“Has something happened?” There had been something in his voice over comms, there was everything in his posture and expression now. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Mom.”

Hands on her hips. “Don’t you lie to my face, young man.”

“I’m not a young man anymore, Mom. I’m tired. I’m going back to the house.” He gestured towards the door. “Scott asked for you. He’s still a little disorientated. Be careful around the subject of Alan, he’s still forgetting his brother is safe.”

Sally grabbed her son’s wrist, a part of her mind registering the differences compared to Gordon’s

‘Worn’ was the word that came to mind.

She sought his eyes with her own. “What is it, Jeff?”

He twisted gently and wrapped her hand in both of his. “Scott needs you, mom.” A distinctly forced smile. “Go look after your grandson.”

Her lips thinned and she took his hand in hers and led him back into the hospital room. She didn’t miss his frustrated sigh.

“Grandma?”

The fear in Scott’s eyes brought her up short. She knew the symptoms of concussion, had even experienced some herself. She had hoped for some improvement.

She dropped her son’s hand and moved quickly to her grandson’s side. He was sitting up and hugging her before she even had a chance to say his name.

His broad shoulders were trembling. “Scotty?”

He didn’t answer, but his arms tightened. His hair brushed her cheek.

Her hands gripped his back, the hospital gown thin and crinkling under her fingertips. “Scott, honey, talk to me.”

A single sob on her shoulder. Harsh breathing. The tremble became a shake.

She clung tighter.

Behind her the door clicked shut leaving them alone together.

-o-o-o-

Virgil needed coffee.

Virgil needed a bucket of coffee. A swimming pool of coffee.

He needed a brother to get well and stop hurting.

Two brothers.

He sighed and leant against the elevator wall. Jeremy, his security guard, politely kept his eyes on the doors.

Virgil closed his. “I’m sorry, Jez. I’m not much company at the moment.”

“Understandable, Mr Tracy. No need to apologise.”

“Thanks for the early start.”

“Part of the deal, sir.”

Virgil opened his eyes at that. “Sir? Since when am I a ‘sir’?”

Jeremy snorted. “You will always be a ‘sir’, Mr Tracy.”

“You’ve never called me ‘sir’ before.”

His security guard smirked. “I use it as needed, sir.”

“Really? Well, quit it, Jez, or I’ll tell Gordon.”

The mock fear on Jeremy’s face did manage to draw out a small smile on his own lips, which was probably the purpose in the first place. “You should be afraid, very afraid.”

Jeremy dropped the fear and grinned just a little. “I trust you with my life, Mr Tracy, sir.”

It was Virgil’s turn to snort. “Would my squire like some coffee?”

Jeremy shrugged. “If Sir deigns it to happen, it will happen.”

Virgil rolled his eyes as the doors opened on the cafeteria floor. “Mocha or latte?”

“Mocha, thanks, Mr Tracy.” But the answer was distracted as they moved into the crowd, Jeremy’s eyes ever vigilant. The bustle around the elevators was tight and Virgil had no patience for it. It was a relief to break through the crowd into the café itself.

The surprise was to find Gerald, another of their security staff, seated at a table just inside the door. “Gerry? Who’s up here?” Virgil’s eyes tracked the tables and the answer was delivered to him as he caught sight of a lone figure in a dark corner. Pulling out his wallet, he fished out his credit card. “How long?”

Gerry was quiet. “About ten minutes, Mr Virgil.”

The credit card was absently passed to Jeremy. “Jez, get yourself and Gerry some coffee.”

“What about yourself?”

Virgil’s eyes didn’t leave the hunched figure of his father. “I can wait. Please give us some privacy.”

“Yes, Mr Tracy.”

He trusted them. They wouldn’t let him or his father out of their sight, but they would give them some distance and confidentiality.

He approached the table quietly, stepping around patrons and chairs. An ignored holoprojector spat the daytime broadcast from one corner, the sound adding to the drone of the room.

“Dad?”

His father startled, but visibly relaxed when he caught sight of Virgil. “You planning on sneaking up on your old man often?”

“I didn’t sneak, Dad. You okay?”

The sigh of frustration that hissed out between his father’s teeth was loud. “Virgil, for the last time. I am healthy and sane. Can you please stop asking? I’m not about to keel over because my day has been less than perfect.” That last came out quite loud and, if anything, was proof that his father was exactly the opposite of what he said he was.

Virgil kept his mouth shut and didn’t respond. Instead he stepped around the table to the opposite chair. “Is this seat taken?”

“Of course not. Sit down.” His father peered up at him. “Did you sleep last night? You look dead on your feet.”

“I don’t think you can talk, Dad. You didn’t even go home.”

Grey eyes levelled a stare at him, but his father didn’t say anything.

“How’s Scott?”

Something flickered through those eyes before they flickered away. “Not good. Your Grandma is with him.” Dad suddenly found his coffee particularly interesting.

“Still disorientated?” Virgil had already harassed the medical staff regarding Scott’s ongoing issues, but the only answers he could get were that his brother just needed time and rest.

It hurt to see Scott so distressed.

“His memory is erratic. He is terrified for Alan.”

Virgil sighed. “I was on my way to see him.”

“Your grandma has him in hand.”

There was something in his father’s voice. He looked up to find his father frowning at the table top. “Dad?”

“I’m sorry, Virgil.” It was quiet and parched.

“For what?”

The table top kept his father’s attention. “For leaving you.”

It was Virgil’s turn to frown. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ve been over this many times, Dad.”

“Yes, we have.” An indrawn breath. “Doesn’t change the fact I left all six of you to fend for yourselves.”

“We’re adults, Dad. We’re likely to do that anyway.”

Grey eyes slowly looked up and glistened in the fluorescent lighting. “Not like this.”

Virgil nearly didn’t hear the words that passed his father’s lips and as the man shook himself and straightened, he got the distinct impression that he wasn’t supposed to.

The engineer straightened his own shoulders in echo. “Dad, what is going on?”

Those eyes caught his for a split second before turning away again. A sigh. “Nothing, son. Now, you need either a bed or a bucket of coffee. At a guess you’re going to go for the latter, no matter what I say.”

Virgil levelled his gaze at his father, not willing to let the conversation drop.

“Exactly.” He stood up. “Name your poison.”

“TRACY!”

Both men jumped and on the other side of the room the two security officers leapt to their feet.

“How dare you challenge me, Francois Lemaire, in such an infantile manner. If you think I will go down without a fight, you are mistaken. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war, I say!”

It took Virgil too many alarmed seconds to realise it was simply the ‘projector in the corner yelling the challenge across the café. Lemaire was outlined in light talking to a reporter. “I will not surrender. You hear me, Tracy? This is war!”

Virgil stared at the hologram.

What the hell?

-o-o-o-

End Part Four