#Auto Parts Warehouse

[seoautoparts]

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[1-800-cuupid]

How To: Auto Height for Shoes

Haiii! As promised, here is the tutorial to make it so your custom shoes no longer require a shoe slider!

Thank you to the bestie who took the time to pick through Madlen's package file to figure out how it worked. And of course, thank you to Madlen who did the majority of the work figuring out how to make this possible in the first place!

♥ Tut below cut ♥

~~~

Set Up Your Blend File:

We're going to add a plane that will act as the mesh for the SlotRay which will allow for you to adjust the height of your shoes!

Open your blend file that contains the shoes your wish to adjust. In the 3D View, press Shift + S and in the menu, select “Cursor to Center” In the 3D View, press Shift + A and in the menu, hover over “Mesh” then add a plane.

Now size this plane down as small as you can get it. You don’t want this plane visible in game.

Double check to make sure the plane has not moved from the center!! Your sim won't be centered in game if it has! If you see that it's moved:

Press "Shift + S" and click "Cursor to Center".

Then Select your plane and press "Ctrl + Shift + Alt + C", click "Origin to 3D Cursor".

Press "Ctrl + Shift + Alt + C" again and click "Geometry to Origin".

Navigate to the “Object data” tab and under “UV Maps” add a new one then name it “uv_0”.

Next, navigate to the “Scene” tab and under “S4Studio CAS Tools” set the cut number.

Depending on how many cuts your shoes have, you’ll want to adjust this number. For example, if your shoe has 3 cuts (0000, 0001, 0002) then this plane would have a cut number of 0003. Since my boots only have one cut, I will put the number as 0001. Now select your shoes and enter Edit mode. Select a face/vertice/edge on the very bottom of your shoes. Look to the panel on the left side of the screen (if it’s not open, press “N”). Under “Transform”, note down the number next to “Z” After that, save your blend file under another name so you can distinguish which is which. I’ll name mine “Boots_3_Height Cut”

~~~

Add a New Cut to your Package File:

We're going to add an additional cut in your package file for the new plane!

Open Sims 4 Studio, make a new package file for your shoes and import them. Go to the Warehouse tab and select your LOD 0, it will be the geometry with the largest file size. Sometimes you have to close then reopen the package to see the geometry. Duplicate this geometry and in the box that pops up, change the last character of the “Group”. It can be any number or letter as long as it’s not the same as the duplicated geometry. On the duplicated geometry, note down the Group, Instance & Type values. Find the “Region Map” and next to “Entries” click “Edit Items”. Add a new entry and in the “Layer” box, type the number you used for your cut. Since I used the cut number 0001, I will type 1. Keep the “Region Type” as “Base” and move to “Models” then click “Edit Items”. Add a new Model entry and paste the Group, Instance & Type values you noted down before. Save and close each box. Find your “CAS Part”, this is your swatch.

If you have additional swatches, it is a good idea to remove them and add them back once you are finished with this process.

Scroll down until you find the “Lods”.

Click “Level: 0” and next to "LOD Models", click “Edit Items”. Add a new entry and paste the Group, Instance & Type values again. Save & close each window and return to the Warehouse.

~~~

Adjusting SlotRays:

We are now going to edit the SlotRays for the new cut which will adjust the height of the sim for your shoes!

Return to the new duplicated Geometry and in the “Data” tab, find the “SlotRay Intersections” and click “Edit Items”. Add a new entry and find the “OffsetFromIntersectionsOs” box.

You'll want to change ONLY the middle coordinate number. That will be the height of the sim.

You want to take the “Z” coordinate that you noted down from blender and replace middle coordinate number.  If the number you wrote down is negative (i.e -0.01234) make it positive (i.e 0.01234).

In the “SlotHash” box, change the value from “00000000” to “FEAE6981”. This is the hash for the b__ROOT__ bone in the Sim's Rig.

Save and close the dialogs then return to the warehouse. Next, reimport your mesh and save your package file. You can now test your shoes in game!

Please keep in mind:

You have to do this for every LOD of your mesh

You can freely replace the mesh of your shoes and adjust the height since the cut with the plane has the SlotRay data

Animations may be off since EA hasn't made the game to support taller sims

CAS windows may move slightly if your sim is using poses/animations where they are leaning to the side. This won't affect gameplay

I recommend using Helgatisha's Stand Still in CAS mod to make sure your sim is absolutely centered

Hope this helped :)

[ggomos-maribat]

10 | in which Marinette Dupain-Cheng submits her resignation

Part 10 (Last Chapter) of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Marinette ticked off her mental checklist. Lights? Here. Stage? Ready. Food? All served. She clenched her jaw. Bruce Wayne, her boss, the single most important person for the night?

Missing in action.

She tapped her heeled foot on the ground. It was twenty minutes already, but the entire night's schedule was officially in disarray. Sooner or later, the guests would be asking. She had relentlessly called Bruce's phone over and over again that she didn't even know how many times it was. Even Damian she called a few times yet there was no answer.

She had a guess on what the reason was, but she expected more sense from Bruce—even if it was late at night, he would not be out there fighting crime.

Soon, she waved the figurative white flag and called Alfred after sneaking off somewhere quieter.

"Where is he?" she asked. Straightforward and simple.

"I'm sorry, Miss Marinette. I understand Master Bruce has an event today but . . ." Alfred trailed off. "He is currently unavailable at the moment."

"No, Alfred. Where exactly is he?"

A long pause followed. Then the elderly man spoke again. "I'm afraid he's caught up in a situation. They went out for patrol and seemed to have underestimated their targets. They are currently in a warehouse right now."

"What?" Marinette rubbed her head. Bruce, just. . . how?! "They, as in, all of them?!"

"Yes, Miss Marinette."

"Can no one get them right now?! The event was supposed to start ages ago!"

"Master Duke, Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie are all out of town unfortunately." Alfred sighed. "Actually, may I trouble you to rescue them? It will be faster than calling for backup from the Justice League."

Marinette bit her lip. Kwamis. How could all of them get captured?! What's stopping me from walking out from my job right now, huh, Bruce? I could leave you to your kidnappers all night long.

"I apologize, Miss Marinette, but they cannot seem to get out themselves. I will personally make sure Master Bruce gives you a bonus within the week—"

"Okay, send me the coordinates."

Marinette changed into a dark vigilante-type outfit as fast as she could. Alfred sent an auto-driven ride to her location and she floored the pedal all the way to the warehouse. Relax, Marinette, she told herself, you asked Tam to stall the guests. If we finish this in fifteen minutes and Bruce gives some sort of half-assed excuse to the attendees, it'll be fiiiine.

She pulled down her mask when she arrived at the warehouse. Going into it, she exercised a little bit of caution. But later on, she realized that taking down the men was a piece of cake and maybe the boys just got a little but unlucky.

She slammed the doors open to one room and saw the vigilantes all tied up.

"MMmmf mmff mmm?" Batman asked, but his mouth was duct-taped.

"That's not important right now." Before Marinette cut off their binds, she threw them one by one into the car: Batman at the passenger seat and Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin at the back.

"Who . . .?" Batman started again. The rest seemed speechless with shock (except Damian perhaps, who likely already figured her out).

"How, just how?" Marinette slammed the driver's side door loudly and twisted the ignition with her pent-up rage. "How did all of you get caught up in that?! Did you decide to play along with your kidnappers?!"

". . . Marinette?"

She huffed and drove, calculating the shortest possible route to the event venue. "Did you forget what was tonight, huh? Couldn't resist getting into your fursuit before a big launching event at WE?"

"But . . .but—"

"You literally have no excuse!" Marinette expertly swerved around cars, even nearly running a red light.

Batman reached for the car radio, which was playing a news update covering the WE event but she slapped his hand away.

"I thought I could make it in time," he helplessly explained, pulling his cowl down. "How did you know?"

"No, in case you didn't know, you're not making it in time." She instantly honked the car when another vehicle cut in in front of them. "Don't mess with me tonight, fucker!" She cried out the half-open window.

She swore she saw the boys at the back visibly gulp.

Marinette exhaled a steady breath. "Look, we'll talk about this some other time, but for now, you will go into that event, be a good CEO, and get treatment for your bruises the minute you get home, comprendre?"

"Com—comprendre . . ." Bruce repeated.

Marinette halted at the back of the venue, pulled out a formal outfit from a compartment and threw it at Bruce. Thankfully, he seemed to get the hint and bolted out of the car without complaints.

Marinette directed a glare at the boys through the rearview mirror. "Damian, switch with me. Jason, don't move and keep pressing on that wound. I'll give you first aid but we have to take you to Alfred to get that checked out."

"You got stabbed?!" Tim exclaimed.

"Um yeah." Jason sucked in a breath as Marinette hopped into the back and Damian took the wheel.

"Why didn't you tell us?!"

"You'll make a big fuss out of it." Jason rolled his eyes. "It's no big deal."

Marinette flicked his forehead while Tim helped get Jason's clothes out of the way. "It is a big deal; it looks pretty serious."

"I've had worse." Jason made a face as she treated his wound.

"Okay just because you died once already it doesn't mean you can get overconfident," Marinette sassed.

Tim stared at her with wide eyes. "How the hell did you know that?"

"I know everything." She finished off by wrapping the bandages around Jason's torso. "Sorry Dames, can you drive faster?"

With a nod, Damian sped up, replicating the rush from earlier. Jason also had his jaw hanging. "Demon spawn listens to her."

***

"How long have you known?"

They finally had the chance to sit down and talk the following day in the office. Marinette had her hands calmly folded on top of her lap, while Bruce was looking at her intently on the seat across.

"Ever since I started working for you."

Bruce blinked a few times, as if getting his identity discovered easily was news to him. Marinette continued, "You're not exactly sneaky about it, you know. It was very obvious. Who do you think was covering up for you?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bruce asked.

She sighed. "I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted to help you from the sidelines like Alfred does and I thought you'd fire me if you knew that I knew."

By the look on his face, he was probably doing a quick flashback to all the times she messed with him as Batman. Bruce opened his mouth for a reply but she interrupted him. "And before you start suspecting me of doing anything bad, I want to let you know that you can trust me with your secret. If I had any ill intent, I would've acted on it a long time ago."

"It's—it's not that I don't trust you . . . it's—well, what made you break last night?"

Her gaze was glued to the floor. "I called Alfred and he told me where you were. I just . . . uhm, aside from the money he offered, I was really upset. The company prepared so much for the event and I put so much time making sure it was perfect. Then you don't show up."

When she looked up, the sting of guilt was evident in Bruce's eyes.

"I'm not faulting you for trying to fight crime," she added. "I just thought you'd be more responsible with your priorities."

"I'm sorry, Marinette," he said softly. "I didn't mean to disappoint you like that."

"Are you mad at me? For not telling you?"

"Mad—? I . . . I'm just surprised, really. But I should've known better. You helped us escape last night and you treated Jason's injury. I shouldn't be angry for that."

Marinette nodded slowly, satisfied with the apology. "I appreciate what you're doing for Gotham, so I'll make sure to keep you and your family's identities safe." She pulled out an envelope. "On a completely unrelated note, I think it's time I give you this."

Suffice to say, Bruce looked like he went through a storm of emotions whilst reading the piece of paper. "Your resignation letter?" He set it down. "If this is because of last night—"

"Nope, it's not because of last night." She smiled. "I just think it's time for me to look for a different career path. I do love my job right now, but I don't see myself as a PA forever."

Bruce's shoulders sagged. "Where will you go?"

"Hmm, recently Queen Industries sent me a good offer—"

"How much did Ollie offer you?" He sprung from his seat. "I'll pay ten times that!"

"Mr. Wayne," she motioned for him to sit back down. "I really do want to explore other options. I think I can get more experience with another company."

"But you'll need to leave Gotham."

She shook her head. "Mr. Queen allowed me to work remotely from Gotham. I'll be a consultant of sorts for their fashion department."

"But . . . but . . ."

"I'll be leaving in about a week. Don't worry, I'll make sure everything's in order for your next PA."

He's really sulking, Marinette observed. I feel a little bad . . .

"Any chance I can still adopt you?"

"Mr. Wayne."

"Fine." He raked a hand through his hair. "Then, will you at least join our family brunch this weekend? As a last 'thank you' to you."

Marinette thought for a moment, remembering a similar invitation from Alfred that Damian relayed earlier. "Sure, I'd love to go."

***

"Are you sure about this?"

Marinette checked her reflection on her phone. They arrived pretty early, but that meant she could help Alfred out for the food prep. Damian parked the car right in front of the manor. "Why? I already submitted my resignation."

"You were forced to quit your job because of me."

"I chose to resign not only because of you, but also because I did want to take Oliver's offer." She reached over to squeeze his hand. "If I stay as your father's assistant, there will always be a professional boundary I can't cross regardless of what's in the contract. You'll always be my boss' son, and I’ll just be your father's assistant. Without that now, I can actually act freely around you. I can even help with vigilante stuff if you need me."

He squeezed back. "Are you not worried about what people will say?"

The headlines flickered in Marinette's head: Bruce Wayne's former PA nabs the billionaire's son.

"Are you?"

"No. I couldn't care less."

"Then I'm not." She beamed. "I've already seen how harsh the media can be. If all goes to shit, we sue the hell out of them."

"Father will be devastated when he finds out."

She shrugged. "He should've seen this coming, honestly."

"Hmm."

"Why?"

"When I marry you, he will have the satisfaction of having you as his daughter however."

"M—marry?" Marinette squeaked. "You're already thinking about marriage?"

"Is that bad?"

"No . . . wait, sorry I was just caught off guard." Her chest fluttered at the thought of their future. "Of course Damian, I'd love to marry you someday."

A small smile played at Damian's lips, the subtle kind that she loved so much. "Now that you're not bound by contract, does that mean I can kiss you anytime I want?"

Marinette answered him with her lips, softly kissing him as his hand lifted to hold her cheek. They parted for a second before he started peppering kisses on the corner of her lips, on her nose and her forehead. She pressed a long kiss on his cheek in return.

"It looks like we won't need to break the news to Father anymore."

"What?"

When Marinette turned around, Bruce was just at the front steps of the manor, disheveled and clad in pajamas and an old bathrobe, plus Robin-themed fuzzy slippers. At his feet laid pieces of a shattered mug, which he had seemingly dropped out of shock.

Marinette laughed. "Oops."

She pressed the button to roll her window down and waved at the dumbstruck Bruce Wayne. "Morning, Bruce! Cute slippers!" 

End AN: That wraps up NMWYCAM! Thank you for reading, commenting and kudos-ing this fic; I didn't expect it to blow up this much😮 If you want to know about my next upcoming fic, check out this poll of mine in Tumblr🙂

[simspaghetti]

The warehouse workers ask Poppy to stay late and help out with counting the loot on her very first day

I guess it's a good thing they're accepting her as part of the team, but she leaves work super stressed and exhausted!

As some stress relief, she heads around town and commits a few grand-theft-autos, she feels much better afterwards!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Sam Delgado at Vox:

It’s been another big week for the UAW. Over 5,000 auto workers at the Mercedes-Benz assembly plant in Vance, Alabama, have been holding their union election vote with the United Auto Workers (UAW); ballots will be counted when voting closes today.

It’s the UAW’s second election in their campaign to organize non-union auto workers, with a particular focus on the South — a notoriously difficult region for union drives. They won their first election with Volkswagen workers last month in Tennessee with 73 percent of workers voting to form a union. What makes the UAW’s recent success compelling is that they’re finding big wins at a time when union membership rates in America are at an all-time low. But each union drive is a battle: With our current labor laws, unionizing is not an easy process — particularly when workers are up against anti-union political figures and employers, as is the case at the Alabama Mercedes plant. So if the UAW can win another union election in a region that’s struggled to realize worker power, it could mean more than just another notch in their belt. It could offer lessons on how to reinvigorate the American labor movement.

What’s at stake in Vance, Alabama?

Unionizing nearly anywhere in the US will require some sort of uphill battle, but this is especially true for the South. According to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, most of the South had unionization rates below the national average in 2023. Alabama resides within one of those regions, at a union membership rate of 7.5 percent compared to a national rate of 10 percent. This is the result of historical realities (see: slavery and racist Jim Crow laws) that have shaped today’s legislation: Alabama is one of 26 states that have enacted a “right-to-work” law, which allows workers represented by a union to not pay union fees, thus weakening the financial stability and resources of a union to bargain on behalf of their members.

Prominent political figures in Alabama have been vocal about their opposition to the UAW, too. Gov. Kay Ivey has called the UAW a “looming threat” and signed a bill that would economically disincentivize companies from voluntarily recognizing a union. Workers say Mercedes hasn’t been welcoming to the union, either. In February, the CEO of Mercedes-Benz US International held a mandatory anti-union meeting (he’s changed roles since then). Back in March, the UAW filed charges with the National Labor Relations Board against Mercedes for “aggressive and illegal union-busting.” And according to a recent report from Bloomberg, the US government voiced concerns to Germany, home of Mercedes-Benz’s headquarters, about the alleged union-busting happening at the Alabama plant.

The combination of weak federal labor laws, a strong anti-union political presence, and a well-resourced employer can be a lethal combination for union drives and labor activity — and have been in Alabama. Recent examples include the narrow loss to unionize Amazon’s Bessemer warehouse, the nearly two-year long Warrior Met Coal strike that ended with no improved contract, and even past failed unionization drives at this Mercedes plant.

[...]

Where’s this momentum coming from — and where is it going?

The UAW is in a strong position after a series of wins. First they won their contract battle with Detroit’s Big Three automakers last year. Then they successfully unionized the Volkswagen plant in Chattanooga, Tennessee, in mid-April (the first time a non-union auto plant in the South was unionized in around 80 years). Later that month, they ratified a contract with Daimler Trucks after threatening to strike, securing a wage raise and annual cost-of-living increases among other benefits. Where are these wins coming from? A big part of the momentum comes from Shawn Fain, the president of the UAW. He’s ambitious and a hard-nosed negotiator, isn’t afraid to break from the traditions of UAW’s past, and perhaps most importantly, is also the first leader of the UAW directly elected by members.

The UAW is leading a unionization drive at the Mercedes-Benz plant in Vance, Alabama. Hope it wins. #UAWVance #UAW #1u

[a-roguish-gambit]

Turn of the century thoughts: Romy edition vol 1

So cars were hella expensive relatively speaking until Henry Ford started using assembly lines, but in the Sears and robucks catalogue you could basically buy every part to build one from scratch and have it delivered to you via mail. There were towns literally built a round a Sears warehouse, not for jobs or anything, but because you could literally buy a do it yourself kit house through sears and pick it up at a wearhouse or have it plopped down on your plot of land from the wearhouse.

Anyways, Remy figuring that out he can order every single piece and the manual for an original Ford car bit by bit for much less than an actual car and all he has to do spend a couple dollars a week to do it.

After almost a year of spending 10$ a week for parts he finally has everything and after convincing kitty to help him put it together with forge's tools in secret, a couple days before the fourth of july the following summer he's got a fully functioning car, tested and ready to go. He's read the driver's manual top to bottom, taken it for test drives, he's all set.

The following day he asks rogue if she'd attend a fireworks festival in upstate New York.

She raises an eyebrow at him. "How we gonna do that? It's half a day ride by carriage and I doubt Logan will let ya take Blackbird out."

"that be so Chere, but it a much shorter drive by car,"

"and how ya plannin on gettin ahold of one, oh prince of theives? Ah ain't doin no auto thefts."

"who said anything about stealin Chere?" He says before showing her the car he had been assembling, " this should cut it down to a few hours. Reckon you'll join Gambit now?"

She gives him a sly smile and gives him her gloves hand. "Ah reckon ah shall!"

[sailingshellsgames]

The Revamped Demo of chapters 1-7 is up! (+ chapter 8 alpha now available on patreon/ko-fi)

You can play it here! Reminder: this is a revamp so there's no new chapter, but there is new content (see below for a list of what's been changed/added/removed)

If you're interested in chapter 8's alpha, you can find it on Patreon and Ko-fi! (along with a bunch of other content)

And as always, thank you so much for playing! If you're someone who likes hugs, then I'm sending you a big one! 💞

What's new in chapters 1-7:

Additions:

General

Introduction of auto-success more.

More weird dreams + strengthening of the subplot around what MC sees in them.

Introduction of the dream journal mechanic.

More dialogue choices throughout the entire demo.

More descriptions of environments: MC's living quarters, the Den Compound, desert terrain around Leas, and city architecture.

Rearranged the stats screen and added clarity for MC's reputation among the Fey via an opposed pair bar.

General editing (word choice, etc.)

Chapter 1

MC's favored weapon can now be a bow! 🏹

Choice added to set MC's skin color.

A few more dialogue choices around MC reacting to the vision Keo has in Chapter 1.

Clearer explanation of MC agent backgrounds. Each now comes with explicit statement of what stats will be increased upon selection.

Chapter 2

Option to specify MC's tattoos. There are 4 pre-designed options, or you can design your own! (or choose no tattoos, if that's not your cup of tea). This includes the ability to add/remove/modify tattoos via the stats screen.

Chapter 3

Define how MC and Keo became friends.

Relatedly, more content setting up the fact that MC can't remember the agent found dead in the warehouse in Chapter 2.

Virano and Adaan mini-catfight (is it me, the author? am I the drama?)

Bug fix where a character already in the room would enter that room.

Chapter 4

A new dream.

Conversation around Virano's family's role in the nobility.

A little bit of Fey-weirdness around the Ashaad.

Conversation around the campfire with the team, mentions some of why Wren came to Leas.

Chapter 5

An explanation of Chapter 4's Fey weirdness that kind of just raises more questions, but does answer at least one of them.

Chapter 6:

A new dream.

Determining which of the three paths to take in the wilds is now a skill check.

General editing.

Chapter 7:

Yet another revision of the waterfall dream/flashback scene. This one's taken so long to get right, but I'm finally happy with it. Victory screech.

Moved Wren's reason for coming to Leas into the main story, so the choice option that explored that on their date now allows MC to dig in to learn a little more.

More dialogue choices in the scene where Keo's heritage is discovered during Lasan (if it didn't happen in the wilds).

Another choice in Wren's date going into the legend behind Lasan more, and a little about Wren's family.

Removals:

Keo no longer goes into seeing the magic in a vision. Removing this was part of a consolidation effort on my part. Tldr; I had too many side plots and needed to scrap some of them. Keo still has a reason for wishing to pursue the magic, if MC tries to refuse Rin. I actually like it a lot better now, which is a happy coincidence.

In Chapter 7, going to the wilds to see Keo's mother is no longer an option. Don't worry: everything I wrote for it will be used in book 2 :) But for book 1 it created a weird imbalance where the three options were so different they didn't converge well back into the main route.

Removed the ability to give Virano a sample of the magic or not. With all the other potential endgame outcomes, this got scrapped to consolidate things. I was finding it didn't really have a meaningful impact on the larger story despite reading like a major plot point, so in the bin it goes.

[reasonsforhope]

"California just cracked down on pollution from transportation in two major moves, part of an effort to improve air quality and cut carbon emissions at the same time. 

On Friday, the California Air Resources Board unanimously approved a rule that would ban the sale of diesel big rigs in the state by 2036. The mandate, which will apply to about 1.8 million trucks — including those operated by Amazon, UPS, and the U.S. Postal Service —  is reportedly the first in the world to require trucks to ditch internal combustion engines. The news came one day after California became the first state to adopt standards to limit pollution from trains. 

Trucks and Diesel

The regulations are intended to improve air quality and trim carbon emissions from transportation, the source of about half the state’s greenhouse gases. Trucks and trains spew diesel exhaust, full of soot that contains more than 40 cancer-causing substances, responsible for an estimated 70 percent of Californian’s cancer risk from air pollution. 

The trucking rule requires school buses and garbage trucks to be emissions-free within four years. By 2042, all trucks will be required to be “zero-emission,” meaning there’s no pollution coming out of their tailpipes. The deadline comes sooner for drayage trucks, which transport cargo from ports and railyards to warehouses — typically short routes that require less battery range. New drayage trucks must be “zero-emission” beginning next year, with the rule applying to all drayage trucks on the road in 2035. 

Currently, medium and heavy-duty vehicles account for a fifth of greenhouse gas emissions statewide. In August, California clamped down on pollution from passenger vehicles with a plan to end the sale of new gas-powered cars in the state by 2035.

People breathing pollution from freeways and warehouse hubs have long called for stricter air standards. In the port cities of Long Beach and Los Angeles, some 6,000 trucks pass through every day, exposing residents to high levels of ozone and particulate matter, pollutants linked with a range of problems including respiratory conditions and cardiovascular disease. Long Beach residents who live the closest to ports and freeways have a life expectancy about 14 years shorter compared to people who live further away...

Trains and Locomotives

According to the new rules, the state is banning locomotive engines that are more than 23 years old by 2030. It also bans trains from idling for more than 30 minutes, provided that they are equipped with an engine that can shut off automatically.

The stage for the rule was set by a single line buried in the Biden administration’s proposed auto emissions rules, in which the Environmental Protection Agency said it was considering allowing states to regulate locomotives. Still, California’s new rules may spark a legal battle with the rail industry, which argues that the state doesn’t have the authority to make such sweeping changes.

Though railroads only account for about 2 percent of the country’s carbon emissions from transportation, switching to trains powered by batteries or hydrogen fuel cells would provide some benefits in the effort to tackle climate change. The public health gains would be even bigger: The California Air Resources Board estimates its new rules for trains, passed on Thursday, would lower cancer risk in neighborhoods near rail yards by more than 90 percent.

“This is an absolutely transformative rule to clean our air and mitigate climate change,” Liane Randolph, the chair of the air quality board, said ahead of the vote on the trucking rules on Friday. “We all know there’s a lot of challenges, but those challenges aren’t going to be tackled unless we move forward … if not now, when?”"

-via The Grist, 4/28/23

[kiragecko]

What does the batfamily do when they get too hot on patrol?

Dick - gets grouchy, but otherwise seems unaffected? He sweats a lot, and drinks more, and dramatically flops onto furniture when patrol is over, but that's it.

Babs - her genetics are optimized for -5 to 15℃ (20 to 60℉). She finds this VERY annoying. Dramatically swooned off a rooftop once, and got caught by a panicking 15 year old Dick. So embarrassing. The clocktower has extremely good temperature control, but she never found something that worked on patrol, and is defensive about it.

Jason - has a variety of chemical icepacks that he can fit into his suit. Which is important, because he gets dizzy FAST when he's hot. Adds electrolytes to his water, and tries to get out of the heat as quickly as he can. Doesn't patrol on really hot days.

Tim - starts mentally redesigning his costume AGAIN. When it gets really bad, he starts a list on his wrist computer of snarky comments about every piece of gear that is bothering him, and why Bruce was wrong to include it. This is set to auto update the computer, so he doesn't second guess himself once his brain is no longer melting.

Steph - buys popsicles and cheerfully complains. If it gets bad enough, she finds one of the warehouses with cooling units that blast freezing air year round, and turns into a puddle for a while.

Cass - removes parts of her costume. Fights in her bra. Raids civilians' apartments for lighter clothing. Drinks LOTS of water.

Damian - goes quiet and still. Extremely high heat tolerance, so other people usually get concerned long before it becomes a major issue.

Duke - uses his powers to create a sun-blocking shield. Hides in a corner with his little patch of darkness and lets the air cool down. Then, if that doesn't work, dramatically rips vents all over his costume and just tries not to get hit. He has pretty good heat tolerance, but when it gets over his limit, he is DONE.

Bruce - Turns on his suit's cooling system, and then dissociates from his body even more than usual. Tries to predict what Tim's comments are going to be. Makes sure the Batmobile is stocked with icepacks, popsicles, and icecream. Checks the Batmobile computer to make sure all his kids are conscious and okay. Mentally rewrites his pitch to convince his children that THEY would benefit from cooling systems, even though he still hasn't found technology that would make the added weight and bulkiness feasible for anyone but Jason.

Alfred - the one time the heating system in the Batcave broke and started pumping out constant heat (and eventually flames), he covered anything delicate and then adapted the sprinkler system into a mister (that misted AROUND his usual locations, so he stayed mostly dry). Then he fixed the heating system.

[emeraldtart]

Rogue AU

TFP AU where after the end of the series (before Predacons Rising), Starscream, KOBD, Shockwave, Soundwave and Lazerbeak decides to become Neutrals. They decided to spend the rest of their time on Earth instead of wasting it in a losing war.

They escape to big cities like Chicago or NYC, or maybe Witwicky, living in a two story house near a large warehouse where Starscream's altmode resides.

They each take part-time jobs for extra cover, and Soundwave hack the government so that in case Sector Seven is on them they'll have proof.

Starscream and Knock Out work at the same elementary school, with SS being a science teacher and KO being a drama teacher.

Breakdown has work at a nearby auto shop. He miss the Vehicons and wonders how they're doing.

Soundwave works at an IT center. His voice sounds weird due to millennia of not using it, but he's surprisingly capable in his work.

Shockwave just stays at their house. He feeds Lazerbeak and cleans up the other's altmodes. He deserves to take a break after everything.

When RID2015 starts, there are a slight panic. Just kidding, there's a lot of panic.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Sir Vival, the two-piece safety Hudson

Sir Vival, Walter Jerome's Hudson-based concept for the ultimate safety car, last moved under its own power sometime around when he showed the car at the New York World's Fair in 1964 or 1965. Since then, it's been split apart, reassembled, shuffled all over eastern Massachusetts, and remained hidden more or less in plain sight, but nobody's made an attempt to get it running again. That'll change now that longtime owner Ed Moore of Bellingham Auto Sales has sold Sir Vival to Jeff Lane of the Lane Motor Museum.

"It'll be the perfect fit," Lane said. "I've been pestering him about it for a while."

Moore, as we reported in November, has decided to close the doors at Bellingham, which he considers the last active Hudson dealership in the world, and has been either selling off his inventory of cars and parts or transferring portions of his lifelong collection to his house nearby.

In 1958, Worcester-based Walter Jerome decided it was about time somebody built a car designed primarily for safety and not for looks or speed. Rapidly increasing numbers of highway deaths - especially in the postwar period - led many to call for greater automotive safety as early as 1947, but the response from Detroit was tepid at best throughout the Fifties. Ford made a few gestures at improving automotive safety, including funding a study on safety cars at Cornell, but it largely fell to independents and individuals to build cars with safety features designed into the vehicle.

Jerome decided to start with a step-down Hudson - which he bought from Bellingham - and split it into two sections "to anticipate the possibility of collision from any angle." Similar to Bela Barenyi's idea for the crumple zone, Jerome intended the front section, mounted via a hinge to the rear section, to absorb a collision rather than deflect one, noting that the rigidity of typical cars was what led to injuries and deaths in collisions. To each of the two sections, Jerome added steel bumpers that acted, in his words, like a second frame, and rubber bumpers around the steel designed to redirect all but direct collisions. Yes, he built a full-size bumper car.

He didn't stop there. The driver controlled the car from a turret-mounted central driver's seat surrounded by a "full circle" windshield for greater visibility. (According to Jerome's literature, the windshield itself rotated past stationary windshield wipers as part of Jerome's quest for maximum driver visibility.) The exterior is fitted with high-visibility marker and signal lamps; the parallelogram doors are designed not to pop open in a crash; and the interior features seat belts, padding, and even a rollbar.

"It is all too obvious that Detroit has no plans to come up with anything really new," Jerome wrote. "Their 1964 cars are already on the drawing boards and spring from the same rigid frames. I hold that human life is important, far more important than Detroit's worry about the cost of retooling to produce an automobile which will save human lives. Adoption of the flexible Sir Vival design would make rigid vehicles obsolete and create a new market, almost immediately, for 65 million vehicles."

Moore and his family assisted Jerome over the years with Sir Vival, including one episode Moore recalls in which he went to Worcester to retrieve the vehicle from the fourth floor of a warehouse, where Jerome had stored it in two pieces, so it could be reassembled and transported to Jerome's house on Cape Cod. After Jerome's death in the early 1970s, the Moores took possession of Sir Vival and brought it back to Bellingham. While Moore had hoped Sir Vival would have gone to Eldon Hostetler's Hudson museum, it turned out fortuitous that he didn't donate it to Hostetler, given that the museum was closed and liquidated in 2018. Sir Vival has thus primarily sat in its pride of place in Bellingham Auto Sales's garage ever since.

"It needs gone right through," Moore said. "It's not really something I want to take home and just let it sit there. Jeff, he's the guy who'd really appreciate it. He'll build it and do it right."

Lane said he's only seen Sir Vival once in person, when he spent an entire day up at Bellingham Auto Parts four or five years ago. "I recall it as not terrible, but also not in great condition," he said. "It's not like it's been outside for 40 years, rusting away." While he won't have a more definitive plan about what to do with Sir Vival until he picks it up later this month, he said he wants to go through it mechanically without restoring the entire car, if possible.

"I'd say the closest it comes to any other vehicle in the (Lane Motor Museum's) collection is the Dymaxion," Lane said. "It's a really interesting story but it's really been pretty much hidden away from the general public."

Moore, for his part, said he'll continue selling Hudsons from his home garage even after the Bellingham Auto Sales property becomes a warehouse. "I still have my new and used car licenses," he said. "I know I can't keep them all, but I've tried."

UPDATE (6.January 2023): The Lane has started restoration on Sir Vival, according to a Facebook post from the museum. "Sir Vival has been separated into two pieces, and the automotive archaeology begins!"

[tia-amorosa]

🌴Lucky Palms🌴

Marisol - Saturday Night Fever (long) Part 1

It's just before 7 pm. The old warehouse, which has been converted into a discotheque/bar/arcade hall, is expecting many guests today. Clark and his band have invited virtually the whole town. Anyone who wants to come is welcome. And nobody knows how this evening will end….

"Man, don't overdo it now, Ozzy, do you hear me?"/ "Why… It's all for shit now anyway…"/ "But you're not doomed to die, now come back down and put the bottle away again. You'd better take care of the music system". Oscar received two pieces of news today that threw him off course. Not just him… but also his future wife and all his other close friends.

As no DJs were available today, the decision was made to use the Auto DJ system. Lots of music, put together on the computer and now played via USB stick. "System running"/ "I can hear that too, at least turn it down a bit so that people can still talk".

Shortly before 8 p.m., Marisol enters the hall. The music is loud, but not booming. She looks around, not too many people, but at least there's a bit going on… She was almost two hours late. But there was no need to get upset… "Hey…".

After she heard his voice and then saw him, she went to him. "Well, it's a bit lame, isn't it?"/ "yeah, but I'm sure there'll be more going on later. I didn't realize that the Super Bowl was still on TV today… Are you okay?"/ "mhm. Are the others here too?"/ "Only Oscar, the others had other plans today".

"So, are you excited about the tour yet? How many gigs do you have?"/ "um, I think 23 or so…". She raised an eyebrow with a grin. "You don't know exactly?"/ "Spike has more of an overview. Do you want a drink?"/ "hm, if there's something non-alcoholic here, you know…" She pointed to her stomach with her two index fingers. "Oh, sure, we don't want our child to become an alcoholic, right? There are non-alcoholic drinks upstairs".

After a few minutes, Vivienne, Oscar's fiancée, also arrived at the bar. "Hello you two, have you seen Oscar?". Marisol looked over at her in astonishment. "Vivienne? No, I've only just arrived…". Quark reacted a little annoyed, because things are always a little tense between him and Vivienne. "He must be buzzing around here somewhere, what are you doing here anyway, didn't you want to watch your show?"/ "You know I'm not at peace about my future husband at the moment. Well, I'll find him". After Vivienne was out of sight, Marisol turned to Clark again, "Is everything okay with them?"/ "Yes, yes… Shall we go upstairs?".

Slowly the hall filled up and people went to the bars, or to the dance floor if they felt like dancing. But the drinks here are the best in town at the moment. Clark is nervous on the one hand, but on the other, at least outwardly, calm…a few things have had to be sorted out in the last 24 hours. "hi, one orange juice with elderflower, please".

The barman looked at her, somewhat perplexed. "Elder… What?". And Clark immediately intervened. "Are you deaf? Elderflower, the syrup, is downstairs, front row, I filled it up the Bar myself…". The barman was a little piqued. "Are you the boss here?". Clark grinned a little. "Almost, so, what is it now, the lady is thirsty"/ "o.k. o.k.… what mix ratio?"/ And again Clark had to shake his head . "Haven't you studied the recipe book? Oh man, what's wrong with you?".

It took a while for the guy behind the bar to finally finish making the drink. He searched for the recipe, which was actually quite simple, for almost a minute: "I think I need to talk to your boss, apparently you've only had a crash course. Marisol looked over at him and had to laugh a little: "hnhn, hey, don't get upset, Clark, the drink tastes good, really".

Clark also had a drink made. Then they both got up and carried on talking. "And otherwise… everything okay?". Marisol took a sip from her glass. "mhm, yes… I'm just writing the last chapters of my new book" / "o.k. …. What's it about?" / "hm, about a broken family" / "Oh, o.k., and, is there a happy ending?"…

"Do you think I'm going to tell you the ending now? You should just read it when it's finished…"/ "Do you know when I last read a book? Just tell me"/ "Nope, I'll let you stew. There are definitely a lot of twists and turns in the story, it's exciting…"/ "hehe, and then you just grin like that". It was a casual conversation between the two of them. And they made jokes from time to time. And so Marisol continued in a cheerful tone. "Yes, because I'm convinced it's a good book."/ "hnhn, you know I only read the newspapers or something on my smartphone, but never a book"/ "hm, but on a long bus journey, from city to city, it certainly wouldn't be wrong…"/ "hnhn, yes, maybe. ". Clark finished his glass and placed it on the bar. "Fancy a bit of dancing?". She smiled and nodded.

Before they could even reach the stairs, they heard Vivienne shouting loudly. "Oscar! My God…" . They saw her bending over him, he seemed to be unconscious.

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

What happened? We'll find out in the next part…

@cozygirlsimmer

Note: Sometimes things happen unexpectedly when I'm doing story or gamplay. And when I saw Oscar lying there on the floor, I thought to myself, that's so fitting right now! I had a similar scene in my head, but I dismissed it again. He gave me a good template, so to speak, and that's how this and the subsequent scenes in the next part were able to come about. 🙂

[southeastasianists]

On a Saturday night, outside a dark building in Smithfield in the south-west of Sydney, the street is deadly quiet and deserted.

On one side of a driveway is a kitchen wholesaler; on the other an auto parts dealer. 

But right at the end of that driveway, through some roller doors, is a huge hall teeming with life and activity.

The people gathered here tonight have travelled from all over Sydney to meet.

They share a proud culture and language.

But they also share the experience of horrific human rights violations.

Theirs is a story not enough Australians know about. 

Torture, famine, killings

More than 100 members of the Timor Chinese Association of NSW (TCA NSW), whose cultural background is Chinese Hakka, are gathered in the Sydney warehouse. 

Each of them grew up in Timor-Leste, known as East Timor before the country gained independence in 2002.

Most lived through the civil war following the country's decolonisation from Portugal in 1974 and then under years of Indonesian occupation, which lasted from December 1975 to 1999.

During this time, it's estimated that between 100,000 and 180,000 Timorese people died. Many were also victims of human rights violations including displacement, sexual violence, torture, famine, detention and killings.

Hugo Fernandes, director of Timor-Leste's Centro Nacional Chega (Centre of Truth and Reconciliation) is the co-editor of the Chega report, the first official document of the atrocities experienced by the people of East Timor.

He says the Timorese Chinese community were targeted during Indonesia's invasion of East Timor because of suspicions they were communists.

In 1965, half a million people died in a coup in Indonesia in the mass targeting of communists.

The biggest atrocities that happened to the ethnic Chinese community in Dili occurred in the first week of the Indonesian invasion in 1975. It's believed that up to 40 Chinese civilians were killed during this time.

Manuela's story

That first week of invasion began on December 7, 1975. It's a day Manuela Jong, who now lives in Sydney, remembers well.

She was eight years old in 1975 and living with her family, including nine brothers and sisters, in the district of Colmera, Dili.

She recalls the knock on the door, soon after the Indonesian army parachuted down just outside her house.

"My dad was holding my brother's hand as they walked, probably about four or five steps away from all of us," Mrs Jong tells ABC RN's History Listen.

"The soldiers start shooting them from behind. And straight away my dad was rolling on the floor and we [were] all watching.

"My mum was screaming and said all in Chinese, in [the Timor language] Tetum, but they didn't understand … 'Come, come, come back and shoot all of us.

Mrs Jong's father was killed, but her 17-year-old brother survived.

Later Mrs Jong, her pregnantmum and siblings took turns digging a shallow grave to bury their father. As isthe local custom, they planted a banana tree in the same spot.

Witness to mass execution

Yi Jung Fi, a Chinese Timorese man now living in Sydney, was also in Dili on December 7, 1975.

Only 12 years old at the time, he remembers hearing gunfire and seeking safety at night under his parents' bed.

"[My] parents said best to sleep on the ground, because if there's any shooting, you're less likely to get shot," Mr Yi said.

"We saw one [soldier] was hanging on the coconut tree, dangling there. So we know the Indonesians are here." 

Mr Yi's recollection of that day is disturbingly visceral.

"During the invasion, the smell, the smell was incredible. You could taste it. "They tried to burn the bodies. I remember that smell," he says.

In 1984, another Chinese Timorese survivor, Chong Kui Yan, recorded a testimony for Amnesty International in which he said he saw 40 men killed in the first two days of the Indonesian invasion.

Mr Chong witnessed mass executions at the Dili wharf, where groups of East Timorese people and ethnic Chinese civilians were shot and pushed into the sea.

The Chega report noted that dozens of ethnic Chinese were executed near the harbour between December 7 and 9, 1975.

In his testimony, Mr Chong said that on the morning of December 7, Indonesian soldiers forced him, his pregnant wife and child, and all occupants of an apartment block called the Toko Lay, out onto the street.

He was among a "work party" who were then taken and forced to dig graves to bury Indonesian soldiers. The following day, they were taken to Dili wharf.

"At the harbour were many dead bodies," he said.

"We were told to tie the bodies to iron poles, attach bricks and throw the bodies in the sea.

"After we had thrown all the bodies in the sea, about 20 people were brought in, made to face the sea and shot dead. They were Chinese people who lived in Colmera."

The Amnesty International report also described how one father had to throw his own son into the sea.

There were roughly 4,500 Chinese in Timor in 1960. By 1980, following the civil war and the first five years of Indonesian occupation, that population had more than halved.

The fear of violence and retribution by the Indonesians meant victims rarely spoke about their experiences outside their immediate family.

Sometimes people learnt about the fate of their friends and extended family years later, and often only once they had left East Timor.

Reconnecting in a new land

Many of the people who survived the violence in East Timor managed to flee to places like Taiwan, Portugal, Macau and Australia.

In Australia, the first refugees from East Timor arrived by merchant ships in Darwin in August 1975.

Between 1976 and 1986, more than 2,000 Chinese Timorese sought refuge in Australia. Most settled in Sydney, but also in Darwin and Melbourne.

Lai Li Shao Lorraine, who was born in Dili and had been sent to a Sydney boarding school in 1970 before the Indonesian invasion, remembers seeing on the TV news the first refugees arriving in Australia. 

It was a powerful time for Mrs Lai, who'd had little communication with her family prior to the civil war and invasion, and didn't know how many of them had survived.

"We found out where they were. All the people, we know each other," Mrs Lai says.

Some were reunited with friends and family in Perth, Melbourne, Darwin and Sydney. The drive to share news from home and talk about their journeys to get to Australia is what led to the formation of the Timor Chinese Association of NSW.

Forty-five years later, the close-knit community is still connected.

In that huge hidden hall in Sydney, the close friends gather monthly to celebrate each other's birthdays, or to come together for celebrations like the Moon Festival or Chinese New Year.

Mrs Lai is passionate about her community that has reunited in Australia.

"I'm very happy because we're all refugees and Timor is not that big, and so we all know each other," she says.

"All my school mates from Timor are all in Sydney."

At their meet-ups, everyone brings a plate of food, and there's free flowing beer and tea, dancing and live music.

"We're still together," Tony Von, the association's president, says.

"Every Timorese comes back together this way."

[hausofmamadas]

| So much for my nine lives |

⁂

Pairing: David Barrón Corona & Benjamín Arellano Félix (Midnight Mass Vampire-ish AU)

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober - Day 30 - Day of Amnesty (originally Day 29 - Day of Horror)

Prompt: Came back wrong

Word count: ≈ 1.2K

TWs: Canon-consistent & vampire-related(?) violence

This was the part in the all movies where the person in my position comes to the horrible realization at what he is and what he has to do. So this is like … kinda Barrón and Mín in the universe of Midnight Mass or really like the vampire lore of Midnight Mass applied Narcos Mexico? Anyway, this is just a fun spooky, lil ditty I did. Enjoy Mín finally giving Barrón everything he ever wanted. Spoiler alert: it’s not the eternal life that matters.

⁂

Shocked awake, I sat forward sucking in deep, sweeping gusts of air that crackled through my chest, inflating my collapsed lungs. Like they were two dusty, burlap sacks, the air dragged in and out so sharply and painfully I began to cough. My shirt was caked with dust and dried blood that looked almost purple in the orange menace of the pre-dusk sun. I looked down and at the trail my body had made. Must’ve been when they dragged me into the cave.

But I was dead. Dead just then and I knew it. Now I wasn’t though. I came back somehow. Only, I came back wrong.

I remembered little before I died but the commotion at the cafe. Panicked crowd, a few rounds ejected from my gun, as I grabbed Benjamín by the collar of his jacket, screaming, “we gotta go!” and ran toward safety.

Safety. A funny word to describe Ramón and Kitty, two flashily dressed gangsters, semi autos in hand, beckoning to us from the corner where the street met the back alley road, the curb of which the Escalade was parked on. We’d been so close. I’d shoved Mín in front of me and turned around to return fire at the crowd of fatigues surrounding the armored truck across the street, just before I felt the bullet enter my chest. Then another just under my ribs.

The thing no one ever tells you about getting shot? When a projectile traveling at 1700 miles per hour enters the human body, what you feel first is the shock wave. It juggernauts through you, traversing through muscles, tissue, your very cells, so fast and forcefully, the feeling’s more akin to electrocution. It was a miracle my heart was still beating as the ground came up at me, fast, before I sank into the black.

So much for my nine lives.

Shielding my eyes from the stray beams of sun that peeked through the cracks of the cave entrance, I took a lighter from my pocket and lit it turning to face the dark side of the cave and get a better look at who or what might be inside.

Which one of them would’ve done it? Definitely not Ramón. Not enough self-control. I would’ve been an unintended afternoon snack. Hope would suggest Pancho or Dina, but common sense would suggest otherwise. The only one among them who had been at the cafe with the strength and self-restraint to do it without killing me more dead than I already was could only be Benjamín.

And yet, it was hard to imagine him, sour, overly-critical, Motherest-of-Mother-Hens, Mín valuing me enough to offer up eternity, even if he did owe me his life, what with everything I did for them that night at Christine’s. I rolled my eyes. And that was without an immortal advantage.

With a sly undertone of acknowledgment, almost an echo with my disbelief, Mín’s voice rang out from the shadows that clung to the cave walls. “Tus ojos. Se brillan como se supone que deben hacerlo.”

The eyeshine of a cat. How unsettling it had been the first time I’d caught it in Dina’s eyes. Mistook them for headlights in the lamplight of the warehouse parking lot when we were chatting shit some late night, after they’d finished the count. I’d read somewhere, probably in one of the hundreds of books I devoured, trying to fend off brain rot and existential dread in a cell at Donovan, that it was called tapetum lucidum. An extra shiny layer in the eyes of cats and other nocturnal animals that helped them see in the dark.

“What happened?”

“Your ability to maintain your composure under the strangest, most precarious of circumstances never ceases to amaze us.”

It wasn’t altogether clear if Mín was speaking for the family or if there was actually someone else there with us, the place was so dark. But as soon as I opened my mouth to ask, I was doubled over, a jagged pain drilling relentlessly into my gut, tunneling through my chest, all the way up my esophagus and into my throat. My face was close enough to the ground, the breath I expelled violently kicked dust back up into my face. The flame from the lighter snuffed out when it hit the ground next to me.

“Yeah, you’re going to need to remedy that.”

I let out a grim, stuttering chuckle that could’ve been mistaken for the growl of an animal who just felt the hinges give way, the bar of a trap finally slamming down on its neck.

This was the part in the all movies where the person in my position comes to the horrible realization at what he is and what he has to do. The part where they’re supposed to freak out, panic, clam up at the idea of killing as a way of life. But the sick thing? This wasn’t a movie and I felt not an ounce of guilt or fear at the prospect. I’d been taking human life to live for decades now. No sense in an apex predator apologizing for assuming the nature of its design. Shit, it’s not like I made the rules.

A faint skittering sound along the edge of the walls jackhammered my eardrums and before coherent thought could be formed, the soft warmth of light and heaven itself burst into my mouth, soothing the ragged itch at the back of my throat. Blood from some poor, unfortunate little rodent that had made a home in the cool of the cave leaked all over my hands, as I drew from it; hose from a hydrant.

Benjamín stepped off the wall, where he’d been standing for who knows how long and circled me slowly, waiting for me to finish. When the critter’s body finally hit the ground, he clapped a few times, observing, “Pues eso fue fácil, verdad?”

Sighing wearily, “sí, fue tan fácil,” I wiped the blood from my chin with the back of my hand.

Closing the loop, Mín approached me where I sat, still kneeling on the ground over the critter’s carcass, and picked up the lighter. He flicked it open. Light materialized next to his face, the flame illuminating his eyes, activating that telltale glow of Other. That glow which I now apparently shared with him and the rest of the Arellano siblings.

Eyes boring into his, I addressed him direct, “Why exactly am I here, Benjamín,” landing on his first name pointedly. A name I rarely used out of fear, or maybe respect, or maybe just the desire to avoid whatever grief he might be prepared to dish out to me. What was the point now? As far as I was concerned, there was none. Not when we had forever to fight. But Mín didn’t look like he was fixin’ to fight right now.

“I brought you back.”

Annoying. Not really an answer and my face said just as much.

“I brought you back because we cannot afford to lose an asset such as yourself.” Mín continued, gazing into the fire like he was some kind of ancient sorcerer, divining an answer from it, “Por muchas razones y en muchas ocasiones,” then flicked the lighter closed, “ya has demostrado lo que vales demasiado que te perdamos ahorita. And with our enemies outnumbering us, we need more than just soldiers.”

I blinked back at him slowly, almost lazy but with evident curiosity because I had no idea what the fuck he meant and I was starting to get tired and that burning in my throat was kicking up again.

He stood up, dusted off his pants, and walked toward the entrance of the cave, voice bouncing off the stony walls and getting smaller and smaller the further away he got.

“Y’know if I learned anything from my uncle’s hubris, it’s that when your back’s against the wall, the only loyalty guaranteed is that of family. And since I brought you back, the blood in your veins is blood we share.”

Just when he reached the threshold, sky outside now darkened red by the last of the sunset, Mín turned around holding out the lighter in his hand. Extended, as if to summon me. “That is what you are now, Barrón. Family.”

═

taglist: @narcosfandomdiscord, @narcolini, @ashlingnarcos, @artemiseamoon,@drabbles-mc

[skullythefriendlyskullface]

A Turtle's Guide to Escaping Midtown Precinct South: Part Five

Click here to start from the beginning!

//

As Sun Tzu said, if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If your enemy might find out your brother is in a holding cell, then you can count on him to do everything he can to make sure your loved one is in his custody. Therefore, you must make your move before your enemy has the chance to.

As soon as Don got off the subway, he bolted out of the station and sprinted home. He slipped on a few patches of ice along the way, but he was always quick to scramble back to his feet and keep running. Thankfully, none of his brothers were around to witness his clumsiness – especially Michelangelo. It was kind of ironic, though, that the one time he got to work on the Battle Shell in peace was the one time he had to fix it in record-breaking time.

At last, he reached the warehouse on Eastman and Laird. Don grunted with effort as he slid open a window in the side of the building, then slipped inside. He turned on a space heater, slipped off his gloves, then popped open the hood of the Battle Shell and looked inside.

If the transmission was stuck, then the problem was most likely the shifter cable getting stuck in the machinery, but the cable looked fine. Don frowned. Maybe the problem was one of the detent bolts or spring. He couldn’t tell if that was the case unless he removed a few brackets, however.

Don grabbed his toolbox from the side of the room and lugged it back to the Battle Shell. On his way, he ripped off his white beanie cap and replaced it with his headphone set. “Leo, this is Donatello,” he said, as he pulled out a wrench from the toolkit. “I’m in the warehouse fixing up the Battle Shell.”

“Alright,” came his brother’s voice. “You said it would only take about an hour to fix, right?”

“Yep,” Don said. He started twisting the bolts on one of the brackets with the wrench until it was loose enough to unscrew with his fingers. “In fact, it might even take less –”

Leo sneezed, interrupting him. Grimacing, Don pulled his headset off – though at this point, the damage to his hearing was already done. “Bless you.”

“Thanks. You were saying?”

“The transmission is going to be an easy fix. It might even take less than an hour.”

“So, what was the issue? Did the Battle Shell just… need new transmission fluid? Like an oil change?”

Don cringed. There was no denying that Leo was a smart turtle – just not smart enough to know what he was talking about when it came to auto mechanics. “Just worry about the mission and leave the mechanic stuff to me,” he said. “Anyway, I’m going to call the chief of police. I’ll keep you updated.”

He removed the bracket and set it to the side before pulling out his phone and dialing the office of the chief of police. The phone range twice before it picked up. “Chief Alice Torres, speaking,” said a stern woman on the other end.

“Chief Torres, my name is Bishop. I am calling on behalf of a government agency. This line is secure,” Don said. He didn’t bother to imitate Bishop’s deep, raspy voice. His focus was on reciting his lines just like he rehearsed on the subway. Meanwhile, he let his arms move on automatic mode, loosening the bolts on a second bracket.

“Which government agency?” Chief Torres said. Don imagined a mean-looking woman narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion. “Are you with the FBI?”

“No,” Don answered. “I work with a covert organization dedicated to protecting the Earth from extraterrestrial threats. That’s as much information as I can disclose, I’m afraid.”

She let out a throaty chuckle. “That’s a good one. Can’t say I’ve heard it before,” she said. “But unfortunately for you, misdemeanor prank calls carry a fine of up to one thousand dollars and up to one year in prison time.”

Don figured she would have her suspicions. “At approximately 10:03 this morning, two of your officers arrested a suspect for fare evasion at the subway station on West 4th Street, Washington Square,” he said as a matter of fact. “But that suspect was not an ordinary human. He was of extraterrestrial origin.”

Chief Torres scoffed. “If you think that’s enough to prove that you’re part of some secret organization, then you’ll have to try harder than that.”

“I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I was hoping you’d work with me here,” Don said. “But if it’s proof you want, then I have evidence that could land your precinct in hot water.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve been taking bribes from David Williams, CEO of South Hudson Prison Properties. You send dozens of people to his prisons each year, and in return he pays you handsomely. You enable your officers to use intimidation and coercion tactics to bring up higher charges against the suspects that come through your precinct – in fact, you encourage it. And when one of your former officers, Sergeant Brianna Martin, came forward to expose these practices in your department, you hired a hit against her.”

The other end grew quiet. For a second, Don was worried that he was wrong about those accusations. “Who told you this?” she said at last.

“Like I said, I work for the federal government,” Don said. “It’s my business to know a little bit of everyone’s business.” He removed the bracket and leaned on the frame of the armored van. “I understand if you still don’t want to cooperate, but I also doubt that you want to lose your prestigious position.”

While she stewed in silence, Don took the opportunity to inspect the detent bolts. Just as he suspected, one of them was loose, which had allowed the transmission to lock itself in reverse. This was going to be an even quicker fix than he thought. A pang of guilt tore through his chest. Mikey hadn’t broken the transmission like he thought. It was Don’s own fault. He had messed with the detent bolts the last time he made modifications to the Battle Shell and simply hadn’t tightened it properly. All this trouble because of a tiny piece of metal smaller than his thumb.

“What do you want?” Chief Torres said, interrupting his thoughts.

Don shook his head, as if waking from a reverie. Now was not the time for a pity party, he reminded himself. “I want the alien suspect currently in your custody,” he said. “Now, listen carefully to the instructions that I’m about to give you.”

He gave her coordinates to one of the docks along the East River and told her that it would be their rendezvous. Then he gave more instructions – bring the suspect in an armored vehicle with no windows, only bring along two other officers to ensure the transfer of the suspect, make sure the officers swear to secrecy. She listened to his every word and only interrupted to ask a few clarifying questions.

As they talked, he tightened the detent bolt with some power tools, making sure to mute himself so that she wouldn’t hear the grating buzz of his power drill. He was in the middle of talking and screwing the brackets back into place when he heard a voice behind him. “Donatello?”

Startled, he jumped and hit his head against the hood cover. Sharp pain blossomed on the impact, and he had to bite his lip to hold back a cry of pain. He whipped around to find Splinter standing just a few feet behind him. “Sen –!” Don started. Then he remembered that he was still on a call with the chief of police. “Please hold!” he squeaked before muting his end of the call.

“Donatello, what’s going on?” Splinter asked.

“Master Splinter, I…” Don sputtered.

Leo’s voice came through the headset, nearly startling him again. “Uh oh.”

“Who are you talking to?” Splinter continued. “And what are you doing here? I thought you were at April’s with your brothers.”

“I, uh, was but we needed the Battle Shell for…” Don said. He wasn’t sure what to say. It had never occurred to him that Splinter may come up to the warehouse. “Wait a minute, what are you doing up here, sensei? You never come up to the warehouse.”

“I just had a hunch,” he said, crossing his arms. “And right now, my instincts are telling me that you are stalling.”

Splinter wasn’t wrong; Don still didn’t know what answer to give him. Should he just tell the truth and explain what happened? He didn’t have time for that, not with Chief Torres on hold. And Don definitely didn’t want to be the one to earn Splinter’s ire by explaining what happened. There was just no way to sugar coat the fact that Raph had gotten arrested and was being held by the NYPD – for fare evasion, no less. He wished that his older brother with chime in with some advice in his ear, but Leo remained silent, most likely holding his breath in anticipation like Don was.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have much time,” Don said. “We’ll explain everything when we get back. I promise.”

Splinter narrowed his eyes. “You and your brothers need to be back home before seven,” he said.

“We will, sensei.”

“Seven o’clock precisely.”

“We will, sensei.”

Master Splinter turned around and walked towards the elevator. When he disappeared behind the stone doors, Don finally let out the breath he had been holding. “We’re so cooked,” he said out loud.

“I know,” Leo said with a groan. “I’m almost tempted to leave Raph behind in the precinct.”

“I’m nearly finished with the Battle Shell, and with the call. I’ll tell you once I hit the road.” Don said to him. Then he unmuted himself from his call with Chief Torres. “Where were we?” he asked.

As he answered some more of her questions, he finished replacing the brackets, then closed the hood. “Thank you for your cooperation,” Don said as the call came to a close. “Although few people will know what you have done today, you will have done a great service to your nation. But, of course, I will extend my generosity and offer you payment of up to one and a half million dollars.”

“I’m sorry, did you say million?” Chief Torres asked in a shocked tone.

“Of course,” Don said. “We pay handsomely for research and information, and by giving us a live specimen, you are contributing more to alien research than most people have in decades. Unfortunately, however, you may have to incur some upfront costs.”

“How much are we talking about?”

“Twenty thousand dollars. I know it may be a lot –”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I receive more than that on a monthly basis from Mr. Williams.”

“Well, that amount will help us pay for the transfer of the suspect. I already have a trust fund set up for you to deposit the money into – and I will wire the one and a half million dollars to you by tomorrow at close of business.”

After giving her the banking information, Don thanked her once again and hung up the call. He cleaned the black grease from his hands with a rag, turned off the space heater, opened the garage door to the warehouse, then gathered his gloves and beanie cap and climbed into the Battle Shell. No sooner than he turned the key fob than the engine purred and came to life. He eased the Battle Shell onto the street, then shifted the gears to one, then two as he drove on the road, smiling with smug satisfaction when he found that the gear shifts were as smooth as butter. “Man, I’m good,” he said out loud. “Hey, Leo. I’m headed your way. I’ll be over there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Good. When you get closer, I’ll tell you where to park,” Leo said. Then he sneezed again.

Don frowned as he remembered that Leo had briefed him that he would be hiding on the roof of the precinct. “Stay warm, bro,” he said.

“I’m doing my best,” he said miserably.

As Don got closer to the police department, Leo gave him instructions to get to the parking garage. Don drove in and pulled the Battle Shell into the parking space labeled “VIP Parking,” just like he requested.

“I need you to do one last thing, Donatello,” his brother said. “Do you see the car parked next to you?”

Don peeked through the window of the Battle Shell and did a double take. A bright red Ford Mustang was parked in the chief of police’s parking space. “You mean the 1987 Mustang?” he said. “Do I.”

“I need you to unlock the trunk of that car. After that, you can join April. She’s waiting in her van,” Leo said. “And mind the cameras on the side of the building.”

Don peeked through the windows on side of the Battle Shell that faced the precinct and immediately spotted the camera he was talking about. “Copy that,” he said. He took off his headset and replaced it with his beanie before reaching into the glove compartment. There he kept a spare set of tools for unlocking doors. He opened the van door on the side facing away from the cameras and was immediately greeted by the biting cold. Shivering, he stealthily crouched behind the Mustang and began unlocking the trunk. The cold made it difficult to move his fingers, but after a few seconds of jiggling his tools in the keyhole, he felt an inner mechanism give and heard a click. The trunk opened just a crack.

He placed the tools in the pockets of his jacket and sighed. It was a shame that he couldn’t steal this car just like he had stolen Zanramon’s space cruiser. Part of him was tempted to ask Leo if he could – though given the stakes of the mission and the intricacies of the plan, the answer was going to be a resounding “no.” That wouldn’t stop him from dreaming, though. Don stood to his feet and walked towards the back of the parking garage until he found where April’s van was parked.

April was already in the driver seat, waiting. She unlocked the doors and he climbed into the back passenger seat, sighing with relief as soon as the hot air blowing from the heater met his skin. “Got the old Battle Shell up and running?” she said.

“Yep, she’s as good as new,” Don said. In the end, it was only a ten-minute fix. All the more reason to feel guilty. He hugged his arms to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” April asked, sensing his change in mood.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just… I don’t know. Disappointed in myself, I guess.”

“What for?”

“It’s just that, the problem ended up being so easy to repair,” he said. “If I had just fixed it as soon as my brothers discovered that something was wrong, we could have taken the Battle Shell to your place. Raph wouldn’t be sitting in a holding cell right now.”

“True,” April said. “But if he hadn’t gotten arrested, we wouldn’t have found out about the corruption going on in the precinct. And remember, this plan won’t just help Raph. It’ll take down a corrupt cop. We’ll be helping a lot of people.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right,” Don said. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Donny.”

It grew quiet except for the hum of the heater blasting warm air. Don looked out the window at the flurries that rained down hypnotically onto the streets outside the parking garage. After today, they would have helped a lot of people – but only if their plan worked.

Previous | Next (Next Estimated update: September 21)

[shamelessrabbithole]

If you've been following me for a while, you know how much I enjoy a good screen-match moment. I've been interested in the Foxbody production from the start and have found it really frustrating not to be able to identify the autobody shop where they filmed the dance scene. I can tell that it's propped with old-fashioned signage and even these red cabinets are uncommon because they are specific to the Ford brand motor company and to find any intact to purchase or rent is hard because they're collector's items.

Anyway, since for the life of me, I can't find this particular film set, I thought I might look for the car. And, I think I tracked it down. Cam would have rented it from the Picture Car Warehouse in Vallejo, California. It's is a 1985 Ford Mustang convertible and rents for $450 a day. The main difference that I can see is that the headrests have either been replaced or removed. But otherwise, both cars have very similar details, including auto-body damage.

The hood paint seen here has a similar wear pattern. 👇🏻

The hubcaps are a match. 👇🏻

Same streak of silver or gray on the bumper in the same corner spot on the side of the car that has a Ford ornament. 👇🏻

Same small ding on the edge of the black part of the driver's door. 👆🏻

I feel like he might've taken off or replaced the headrests, maybe because they interfered with the shot otherwise. Or the original ones were too beat up, though, in a movie like Cam's it would seem like the more beat up, the better. I dunno.

It also looks like he changed the lampshades and bedspread in this scene, so he might've taken similar liberties with the car, too. 👆🏻