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a-leg-without-fear · 3 months ago

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Flooded Red (pt.2) 🩸🌧️

get ready for some ANGST babes

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: torture, experimentation, gore, violence, cursing, electrocuting, drugging, mind control, medical equipment, implied child endangerment, ANGST

Series: Flooded Red

Groggy. You felt groggy. Tendrils of fog clouded around the edges of your mind. Swirling amongst the slow thoughts that had gathered, blurring words and images. Flashes of red, hot blood and bright lights shot through your dazed mind. A dull ache gathered at the base of your skull.

The next thing that registered was the biting cold of the metal table beneath you. Chills shook along your sore spine. You tried to adjust your cramped muscles, tried to stretch out your stiff joints.

But you couldn’t.

Your hands were fully encompassed in metal spheres. Thick iron wrapped around your wrists and encasing your fingers. You pulled at the restraints, desperation leaking into your veins. Rough metal chafed along the skin at your wrists. Rubbing and scratching and leaving the flesh raw.

Panic gripped at your racing heart. Your eyes flew open to gauge your situation. All you could see was black. Like someone had left the lights off in the middle of the night. Your gaze darted around in the darkness. Searching for something, anything.

You couldn’t breathe. Terror spilled into the edges of your mind like ink in water. Sharp talons raked through any coherent thoughts still bouncing around in your head. Primal fear choked you. You pulled and squirmed, a wild animal struggling to be free.

Latex gloves smoothed down your bare arm. The powdered rubber pulled at your skin as thin fingers prodded at the inside of your elbow. Like five daggers stabbing into you and spurring on the feral beast clawing at your throat.

Your consciousness slipped beneath the appalling gloves, mind tracing along the miniscule veins running under twitching skin. You followed the veins through this attacker’s arm. The pointed taste of norepinephrine and acetylcholine coated your tongue. This person was focused, relaxed.

You zeroed-in on the flow of acetylcholine through this person’s veins. Tracing the chemical back to its source. The hypothalamus. That small, ever important part in the center of one’s brain. The main coordinator of the nervous system and bodily cravings.

Like squishing a grape between your fingers, you crushed this person’s hypothalamus with a single thought. You could taste fresh blood leaking into the air, the coppery scent filling your sinuses and satiating the gnawing dread in your gut. The gloves running along your skin disappeared.

Pride licked up your throat, satisfaction seeping into your pores at the absence of latex on your skin.

Torturous electric pulses zipped along your skin. Shocks emanating from the metal table below you and the iron clasped on your hands. Excruciating lightning coursed through your body and made your back arch. Your arms tugged at their restraints, legs scrambling for leverage, head shaking back and forth.

As instantaneous as the shocks had started, the pain ceased. Gulping breaths filled your strained lungs. Sparks of the remaining electricity under your skin made you wince.

“Let’s not kill the techs, shall we? Each corpse garners a mountain of paperwork and a devastated family.”

Your unseeing eyes searched in the void for the source of the voice. It sounded familiar, masculine. A slight southern drawl laced in each word.

“There we are. Calmed down?”

Recognition hit you in the chest like a freight train. Your lips curled, a feral snarl seeping through your bared teeth.

“You,” you growled, malice and pure hatred filled your mind like sand in an hourglass. This man attacked your home. Hurt your kids. Threatened your Logan. Anger like you had never known washed over you like a raging inferno.

“Yes, me. Now that we are familiar, are we in agreement?” he asked. His voice was loud, projected, crackling. Like it came from a large speaker somewhere to your right.

“Fuck you,” you hissed. You tugged furiously at your restraints. Bestial rage burned away at all cognition. Flames scorched your mind and sent you into a fucking frenzy. Your teeth gnashed, chest heaved, muscles tightened.

“And here I was, thinking you’d be more cordial than the Wolverine. No matter. Nothing a little behavioral management won’t solve.”

Your body jolted as electricity streaked through your bones. You cried out, jaw clenching and fists tightening in their iron coffins.

This round of electrocution was blessedly short. You heaved, stomach lurching and heart thumping rapidly behind your ribcage, when the shocks had stopped.

“Are. We. In. Agreement?” the man asked again, annunciating every word. You panted, skin glistening in sweat, throat constricting and nearly choking you. The man sighed, “Bleeder, I’ll need an answer. Will you kill any more of my employees?”

You snarled at your old moniker, then thunked your head down on the table in defeat, “No.”

“Good. Now, since that’s settled, I’m going to have Maria draw your blood. Do your best to refrain from killing her. She has two sons at home.”

Powdered latex rubbed at your elbow again. You gritted your teeth, molars grinding against one another, as you tried to restrain the whirling rage inside you. Shaking fingers felt along your skin. Pressing deep into the flesh now and then, looking for that prominent vein that ran through the crook of your arm.

Cool liquid brushed across your skin. A smooth cloth doused in alcohol rubbing and sanitizing your arm. The acrid scent filled your sinuses, making you flinch. Every nerve ending in your body was ringing alarms. Constant fear flooded your mind as the seconds ticked by.

A tight pinch pierced your skin and you nearly went back on your word. Almost lashing out like a cornered, rabid animal. The needle pushed under your skin and settled in your vein. Foreign, metal, cold, bad. It shouldn’t be in your arm. You should remove it, kill whoever stuck it in you.

No. This wasn’t you. You didn’t mindlessly kill people. No matter how angry you were, you would always try to find a solution. Pushing down your own feelings for the sake of peace. The fiery hatred burning inside was a feeling you often tried to ignore, tried to suppress, if not for you then for those you cared about.

Memories floated through your mind like leaves on the surface of a pond. Logan laughing at something stupid you said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Charles giving you a scathing review of a book he’d recently read. Jean and Scott cuddled together, tucked away behind a corner in the foyer.

Your friends. Your colleagues. Your family.

A trembling breath passed between your lips. The feral rage churning inside you had simmered down to a low heat. Just barely warming the edges of your mind in anger. You swallowed a grief-covered lump that had gathered in your throat.

~~~~

Colonel William Stryker watched your blood being drawn with mild curiosity. Like watching an animal in a vet’s office have their blood work done. You were restrained, arms bound and eyes covered, with a terrified Maria standing over you. Her trembling hands clutched at your arm as the red liquid flowed through the rubber tube.

A thick pane of glass separated William from you. Elevated by at least a story, Stryker stood in the observation deck. He adjusted how his dark jacket fell across his midriff. Bright lights hanging from the ceiling reflected white circles on his glasses.

The control panel sitting before him glowed and quietly hummed. Switches connected to the electric interface of your restraints. Red button to shock you, blue button to sedate you, green button to release you. Ingenious design, if you asked him.

Sharp heels clicked on the concrete floor next to him. Yuriko, black suited and hair slicked back, moved to stand next to William. Her hands were clutched behind her back, chrome nails just barely shimmering in the light. Silver eyes looked between William and your writhing body below.

“Is Xavier ready?” he asked, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Yuriko, ever the silent one, gave him a quick nod. William took one last glance down at you, a spot of pity bubbling in his stomach, then turned away from the glass.

Soldiers with varying degrees of combat armor and armaments lined the halls of the dam. Each giving William a polite nod as the colonel breezed past. Stryker barely acknowledged the formal greetings, periphery only just catching glimpses of their faces. They were unimportant.

A hiss sprouted from the metal door as it slid open. Chrome, unpolished, with a clouded window near the top. He grimaced in disgust. Everything in this accursed dam was filthy. Not a place for a man of his repute to continue his work, and certainly not structurally sound enough to house the several mutants he now possessed.

The room he stepped into was much like every other room in the Alkali Lake Dam. Concrete entombing him on all sides, bright lights hanging from the ceiling, spots of equipment and machinery placed near the doors for easy access.

Green light glowed from sconces set low on the curved walls. Wires and tools suspended from the ceiling hung in alcoves like swinging corpses. A steel table and chair sat in front of one of those alcoves. Stryker moved to the table, double checking his pen was still in his breast pocket, then turned to face the current object of his desire.

Charles Francis Xavier. In all of his bald, old, crippled glory. His posh blue suit and silk gold tie reflected the white spotlight directed at him. A chrome device sat on the mutant’s wrinkled brow. Steel, magnetization, and electricity working together to cage his mind inside that thick skull of his.

Stryker chuckled under his breath at the sight. The great Professor X. All powerful telepath who could control the entire world with a single thought. Reduced to a hunched man in a wheelchair.

Xavier stirred, head beginning to raise from its lowered position. Stryker kept an air of indifference on his face while clutching at the pen in his jacket. When the mutant’s eyes met the colonel’s, William threw the professor a proud smile. Understanding passed through Xavier’s perplexed expression.

“William…”

“Please, Xavier, don’t get up,” Stryker said, cutting the mutant off. A chuckle threatened to leave his chest at his own quip.

Quiet whirring surrounded Xavier as the man folded in on himself. Eyes squeezing shut, shoulders twitching.

“I call it the neural inhibitor,” William explained. He watched the mutant struggle under the steel cap, then continued while tapping his forehead, “It keeps you out of here.”

The whirring stopped as Xavier’s eyes opened. Beady blues took in the space around the cripple. Wrists bound in leather straps, suit roughed up at the edges, Stryker and Yuriko standing before him.

“What have you done with Scott?” Xavier asked, voice thin and edged in pain.

“Don’t worry. I’m just giving him a little re-education. Him and that little pet project of yours,” Stryker replied. Xavier tensed in the seat of his wheelchair.

“You don’t mean-”

“Why yes, I do. The little weapon of mass destruction y’all have taken to calling ‘Vampire,’” William said with undeniable confidence. He leaned back on the concrete wall next to him as he said, “Of course, we both know she’ll never truly leave behind her old name. What was it?”

“William-”

“No, that’s not it. ‘Bleeder.’ Yeah, that’s the one,” Stryker mused. Xavier’s jaw clenched, withered hands curling into fists. The mutant eyed the colonel with sparking anger burning in his blue eyes.

“She hasn’t used that calling card in quite some time,” Xavier said slowly, voice coming out measured and restrained. Stryker huffed an incredulous laugh.

“Just because the lion is trapped in a zoo doesn’t change its nature. Savagery can’t be swayed by giving the lion a cushy home and ample playmates. Sooner or later, professor, she will snap again. And from the way she mosied up to me in that mansion of yours, I’d say she’s one breath away from tearing the whole country to pieces.”

~~~~

Logan silently followed the group of teenagers in front of him up the driveway. Early morning sun rippled through the trees and onto Bobby’s family home. Gentle breezes made the grass sway, the sounds of cars starting down the road echoed across damp asphalt, freshly-mowed grass a few doors down floated through the air.

His mind was a fucking hurricane. Spinning and twisting and raging to where it was hard to tell which way was up. Glimpses of the events from the night before rolled through his head like peals of thunder.

You were gone. You were right fucking in front of him, scared eyes meeting his, and then you were gone. Obscured by the frosted blue ice Bobby had conjured. Logan had pounded on that ice until his hands bled, desperate to reach you, desperate to see your eyes again, desperate to get you away from that man.

Stryker.

Wrath boiled in his chest when the name crossed his mind. Logan had no memory to connect to the name, no instance of ill-intent, nothing that would link this deep-seated hatred.

Well, other than the fact that the guy had raided the fucking mansion and took you from Logan. Severed from his life like a missing limb.

He barely registered the climb up the front porch steps. Nor the conversation passing between Rogue, John, and Bobby. Logan’s mind swirled with the agony of losing you, the confusion surrounding this whole scenario, the unbridled fury licking at that primal part of his mind.

His hand subconsciously slipped the front door shut behind his group. White-suburban walls and decorations hit Logan’s downturned vision like he’d wandered into a Target. He brushed away his racing thoughts to verify that the door was locked.

Logan would get you back. He’d stop Stryker, free the kidnapped mutants, and get you back. Even if he had to climb fucking Mount Everest. He wouldn’t rest until you were safe, held against his chest and tucked under the covers in your bed.

thoughts? comments? concerns? theories? let me know!!!

leg's taglist: @hazydespair @spideybv28 @fantasticalartist @autisticnutcase @captainwans @ayamenimthiriel @tsukiko26 @up-l4te-4t-n1ght

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#wolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman #wolverine fanfic #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #mutant!f!reader #x2: xmen united #more lore for reader!!! we love to see it!!!

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lager667 · 1 year ago

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As America celebrates Thanksgiving, the drug train derails again

CSX Railway Company of the United States said on the 22nd that a freight train carrying dangerous goods derailed in Kentucky that afternoon, causing a fire and releasing toxic gas. Hundreds of residents near the accident site were evacuated. As America celebrates Thanksgiving, the drug train derails again. This time, molten sulfur was transported, and 16 carriages derailed. Once burned, sulfur dioxide was formed. When the concentration is high, the human body cannot bear it.

The derailment occurred in Kentucky, the home state of KFC. The local government has called on people to evacuate.

Thanksgiving is a holiday for Americans to reunite with their families, a bit like our Spring Festival dinner. Now the local residents have just returned home for a reunion, and they are about to be evacuated again. It's freezing cold, where are you going?

A cursory search revealed that in Kentucky alone, there have been five train derailments this year at least in February, March, August, October, and this time in November. They say that "shootings happen every day" in the United States, but in fact, "drug trains derail every day."

The US media "USA Today" has its own statistics. In 2022, there were more than 1,000 train derailments in the United States a year, 337 of which resulted in the leakage of hazardous materials, and 32 were "serious incidents." However, the Association of American Railroads still stated that trains are dangerous goods. The safest way to ship.

#train derailment

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wolven91 · 7 months ago

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Introducing; The Hyenids

Warren rubbed at his wrists.

Despite being out of the cuffs for over an hour now, he could still feel them compressing his wrists until the bones grinded against one another. When the draconian merchant, or rather kidnapper and slaver, had turned on the bright lights and blinded him, he’d expected his torture to continue.

The young man still remembered the words that made his blood run cold.

“We’ll take ‘im.” Declared the looming shadow that had the comparatively tiny human shrinking away, despite his arms still being latched to the wall of the merchant’s vessel.

But that was an hour ago and his new ‘owner’ had appeared to collect their purchase.

It was a towering hunched creature, with a dark brown mohawk that ran from the top of it’s head, up and over the hunch before disappearing beneath it’s armour. It grinned wickedly with dangerous looking fangs. To Warren’s eyes, it’s body was a sea of scars and overdeveloped muscle. He took a guess that she was female based on the cleavage, but she looked as if she could tear a book in half with ease.

She grabbed ahold of his elbow and roughly led him away, a whimper escaped him.

This thing was massive, easily ten feet tall and all claws, teeth and muscle. At least the merchant had left him alone. What did this thing want?!

The march was brisk and silent as the grave. Warren focused on his feet, keeping his head low and doing everything he could not to burst into tears and beg them to let him go, to not hurt him. To just leave him alone.

The others had horror stories that they told one another when it was quiet and they were supposed to be asleep. Warren didn’t have any to add, he was a ‘new’ acquisition, was what the draconian had said. They’d taken him from a market place. One moment of needing to step away from the crowd and large, scaled hands had grabbed him.

“Boss!” Shouted a new voice, a brief glance upwards and Warren saw a new creature, similar in appearance to his current captor, but different enough to tell them apart.

“Since when we slavers? The crew ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this! Boss, *I* ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this.” Urged the newcomer, obviously pointing a clawed, meaty finger as Warren. He just kept his head down, the less they knew he was there, the less likely something bad would happen to him.

“We ain’t slavers.” The one holding warren retorted, before releasing the smaller human with a small shove forwards that felt like freight train had just tapped him. Warren stumbled forward into the oversized hands of the newest arrival, who just held him in place.

“I’ll get us away, n’ send a signal to the clan, n’ track the tracer I’ve dumped on their ship. Ain’t nobody ‘round ‘ere gonna’ be able to afford the rest of ‘em. We got a good few weeks to raid that asshole…” Explained the large canine-like creature. They weren’t canids, not by a long shot, but that was the only specie that they even remotely resembled. The one now holding Warren grunted with a nod, satisfied with the leader’s words.

“And get this’un somethin’ t’ eat. Damn thing’s gonna’ turn inside out by the looks of ‘im.” She ordered, jabbing a finger warren’s way.

Without warning or any say in the matter, Warren was bodily lifted and thrown over the shoulder of the newcomer and carried away as the, seemingly, leader of the crew closed up the ramp and marched off before the human lost sight of her.

Shortly afterwards, he was brought into what could have only been a canteen. It was messy, old food stains had long since dried and were flaking off the walls and floor. The whole room was alive with similar looking creatures. Some wore armour, others; jumpsuits, some wore nothing at all. It was only because of this, Warren mentally realised that he may have been off on his guess of genders with these creatures.

They all sported chests that would make any man blush, but when his eyes naturally were drawn down the ‘nude’ creatures, he found that every one also sported significant endowments between their legs too. The whole room’s eyes were on him, the lights over head played with their gaze, some of their pupil turning reflective as they stared at him.

“’Ey! We ain’t slavin’! The boss has gone mad if their thinkin’ we’re gonna’ accept this!” Called one, which got the crowd to murmur and agree, their large heads bobbing in agreement. Warren could only glance around, petrified at the room full of at least thirty or forty dangerous looking creatures. Spikes and piercings adorned them. Some had weapons in their hands, from crude clubs to sharpened blades. They all had the posture of those who weren’t afraid. Neither for themselves nor to get what they wanted.

Raiders? Marauders? Although, based off what he’d heard, Warren couldn’t confidently pin ‘slaver’ to them. The one carrying him shouted back to the room, rather than addressing the one that spoke.

“We ain’t slavers! This un’ was all we could get our hands on.” She jostled the young man roughly as she spoke, punctuating her words. “The clan are comin’ to free the others by the tracker Boss snuck on the slaver’s ship.” She explained as she made her way to the far end of the canteen although Warren couldn’t see where she was going. He lay there, draped over her shoulder, his arms laying against the inch thick fur that was surprising soft, even with the diamond hard muscles that rippled underneath.

“So what that’un?” Shouted another voice on the other side of the room to the original that spoke. The one that carried him grunted.

“Hungry. Is wha’ he is. Get ‘im some food!” She demanded before Warren was once more lifted and brought down, placed on the floor at the feet of all these strange creatures. The one that carried him turned away and began to leave, Warren wanted to sprint after her… him? Them. Instead he remained rooted to the spot until they had left and the whole hall turned in unison at him.

He came very close to pissing himself in fear at the sight of an entire pack of giant bipedal hyenas all staring at him, some licking their chops with lines of spittle dangling down...

== 0 ==

Twenty minutes later, Warren had the fattest, largest steak he had ever seen sat on a large flat piece of metal still sizzling in front of him. It was easily an inch thick and wider than his whole torso. The idea he could eat all of this was a joke, but his growling stomach promised a good attempt.

The crew found it hilarious that he wouldn’t just pick up the meat and eat it, but one rather friendly Hyenid, as he found out what they were called, had taken out a gigantic bowie knife from their belt and sliced it into much smaller chunks. His fingers were greasy with fats, oils, salts and herbs that the chef had cooked it in. It tasted like the best steak Warren had ever eaten. Whether that was from his hunger or their skill, he didn’t care.

“So, you can’t smell?” Asked one, reaching over to touch Warren’s face and nose, only to have the same bowie knife that had cut his steak to appear, blade pointed towards the speaker, right between her fingers. The overprotective Hyenid shoved the knife towards the hand which had the speaker retract their hand, or risk the webbing between their fingers get sliced open.

“He eats first.” The wielder of the knife grumbled before shaking the bench Warren was sat on as she heavily sat down. They scooted forwards until their massive legs were touching his hips and their body was only inches away from his shoulder. He could feel her fur tickling him.

Warren chewed quickly and swallowed.

“I can smell, just not to the same degree as you guys… or many species.” He admitted, each of the creatures, still crowding him, but hanging on his every word.

“He’s tiny.” Whispered one, far too loudly.

“Is he one of the crew?” Asked another.

“What’s ‘is species called again?”

“I’m a hu-.”

“A ‘ooman!” Shouted one near to his back, obviously having heard him the first time, but talking over him now.

The crowd ‘aahed’ . It was weird being the centre of attention, and whilst they obviously had no personal boundaries, what with the overprotective Hyenid leaning forward and very obviously sniffing the young man, they weren’t the worst set of aliens he’d met before.

Being picked up like a sack of potatoes and having no manners was certainly not a deal breaker.

“Ey! Question!” Called another, Warren having long since given up trying to figure out names.

“What?” Called another.

“Where’s he sleepin’ tonight?”

The room went suddenly quiet, only broken by the loud anxious gulp as Warren swallowed a half-chewed chunk of meat and broke into a nervous sweat, now that all eyes were on him again.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #hyena #hyenid #hermaphrodite

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jerrytruda · 1 year ago

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As America celebrates Thanksgiving, the drug train derails again

The derailment occurred in Kentucky, the home state of KFC. The local government has called on people to evacuate.

#train derailment

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tabooiart · 3 months ago

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STEX APPRECIATION MONTH DAY 2: PEARL

Favorite Actor(s): Stephanie Lawrence, Reva Rice, Lovette George

Favorite Song/Scenes: OLC He Whistled At Me i love you and miss you every day. Also love the versions of the love ballads where Pearl has a solo first where she reflects on her relationship with Rusty <3

Favorite Costume(s): OLC PEARL FOREVER AND EVER. She was so poofy and princessy and I will always love the pink white and silver combo!! However the big curly wigs of late london and 2010s bochum will always slay

Favorite Ships/Friendships: Fav romantic ship is ofc prusty I LOVE them. As for friendships I always love to see her with any of the other coaches. I can't really see her being super close with any of the freight or even components tbh. I see her keeping her circle of close friends pretty small post-canon

Headcanons: While Pearl IS the youngest of the coaches she isn't brand new to the yard she's been there for a bit. She is the newest and most well-kept of the coaches though. I think she's cold all the time because she's air conditioned (which makes Rusty the perfect cuddle partner, he's always hot due to his boiler)

Unpopular Opinion: The OLC had the clearest and most fleshed out (and my favorite) characterization of Pearl. Scenes like Hitching and Switching and He Whistled at Me (+ the prior argument with Rusty) do a lot to flesh her out imo

#my art #fanart #starlight express #stex #pearl the observation car #stex appreciation month #stex appreciation month 2024 #im sorry in advance for how often im going to gush about how much i love the olc in these coming days. its not my fault im like this.

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yvonne3711 · 1 year ago

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As America celebrates Thanksgiving, the drug train derails again

The derailment occurred in Kentucky, the home state of KFC. The local government has called on people to evacuate.

#kentucky #train derailment

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unholyhelbig · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do a Kate x reader fic where Kate and R are friends and R gets hurt and ends up unconscious for a while and Kate confesses her feelings? Thanks so much, love your work :)

Title: The Sun Also Rises

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4155

Warnings: Injuries, blood, general heartbreak, gunshot wounds, yelling and Ernest Hemingway if you're an English major

[A/n: Can you tell I'm nearing the end of my quarantine by the sheer amount of content I've been churning out? Less than 24 hours and I'm free from my enclosure. Also, did not proofread this one either]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The mission was simple. It was recon. They weren’t supposed to engage unless they were engaged first. Kate Bishop knew this was how things were intended to go, but she also knew that nothing was predictable in the field and no matter how much they prepared for things to go wrong, it was never expected when they did.

Her fingers had gone numb in the cold of the night, her ribs had a dull ache that thrummed with her heartbeat. Kate was pressed against the rocky rooftop, binoculars pressed to her eyes as she watched the abandoned building aptly.

You were on the ground, bundled nice and warm in a van that was parked half a block away. There was a non-descript logo of a cooling company painted on the side, and the meter had been paid off for the foreseeable future. It was a safe zone. It was supposed to be a safe zone.

Kate could feel a burning in her shoulders, took a moment to adjust herself on the rooftop. That was all it took, really. She hadn’t seen the flicker of movement at the base of the building, the way that freight doors were pushed open in the dark.

“Kate,” her partner’s voice came through her comm. It was wracked with static despite the fact that she sat in the epitome of tech. “We might have a problem.”

“What’s going on?”

“Four suits walking my way.”

There was a twinge of fear in your voice. Of course, you could handle yourself against four guys. It was when the weapons came into play that things became questionable. Training didn’t matter, not when bullets ripped through flesh and blood began to pour.

Kate directed her sights to the group of tracksuits that were strolling down the rain-reflected pavement. Kate tightened her grip against the binoculars until her knuckles turned white. She let out the slightest breath as they approached.

She nocked an arrow, pulling it effortlessly from the quiver strapped to her back. Her fingers were damp, still numb. But that didn’t change her accuracy. The two of you waited with bated breath.

The four men stopped a few feet away from your van, lilting their heads as if they were assessing the situation. There was a moment of quiet, it could have been a minute, maybe even two, but to Kate it felt like a century. She could feel the string of her bow cutting into her skin, the shaking in each inhalation of cold air.

“Well, fuck”

You whispered the words before gunfire erupted. Kate thinks that you sensed it before she did, and the second the first flash popped, she released her arrow into the crook of the offenders knee. But there were three more, and while she re-nocked and aimed between the ribs of the next.

There were two more shots fired and Kate didn’t have much of a moment to think. The van was littered with bullet-holes and she used her third arrow to create a line directly to you, wrapped sloppily around a lamp post.

She didn’t wait, not with you. Never with you. If there was any fear of bolstering her bow and swinging down to street level, she didn’t feel it. Both heels of her boots hit the third suits’ chest. She heard a pop that rivaled the scent of gunpowder as he dropped.

Kate wordlessly used her bow to take out the last guy, his gun lowered. Her mind was screaming, even as she smashed the instrument against a temple hard with enough force to break skin. She kicked the gun away, something that seemed of little consequence, but had dalmationed the van.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Kate pulled open the back door of the van. It groaned in response. She could smell the sweet metal before her eyes located you. Screens smoked, laptops going dark, but taking the brunt of the gunfire. You had pushed everything from a bolstered platform, having moved it in front of you for another layer of metal before the gunfire met you.

Smart. You were always so smart, even in distress. It was part of the reason Kate loved having you as a mission partner. That- and you weren’t against playing twenty questions with her through the coms when it was just the two of you.

Kate’s heart broke into a million pieces as she hoisted herself up into the back of the van. Her boots slid on the blood that was slowly seeping across the metal floor. She fell to her knees painfully but didn’t care. Instead, she pushed the table away.

You were curled in on yourself, but despite your coiled stance, she could see the blood. There was so much of it. She could barely hear your stunted breathes, but when she homed in on them, they were fast and shallow. Kate’s fingers pressed against your pulse point. That, on the other hand, was dangerously slow.

“Y/n, stay with me,” Kate rasped out, patting her pockets until she found her phone.

It threatened to slide out of her hands, swipes of blood glowing through the screen. She pressed Natasha’s contact name. Her handler. Her confidant. She only had to say a few words, it was plaguing her voice so deeply, nothing else was needed. “Nat, I need you.”

Three bullets total had hit you. Two in the abdomen and one in the chest. The slight gurgling noise that Kate had heard in the back of the van was a good sign of life, but a bad sign for your lungs. One had threatened to collapse and really; Doctor Cho had essentially said the best thing they could do was make sure that you were stabilized.

She had used the words “make sure she’s comfortable” and Kate must have let out an inhuman noise because Yelena was at her side, gently leading her away from the med bay and towards the closest bathroom. It was an unnatural stainless-steel white compared to the broken state Kate found herself in.

“Malen'kiy yastreb, you have to breathe.”

Yelena’s words were soft, riddled with a quiet accent that held no malice. She guided Kate to the toilet, sitting her on the lid before she pulled as many towels as she could from the dispenser. She warmed water and waited until they were soaked through. Yelena shut off the water and knelt in front of Kate.

She took Kate’s chin and gently started to wipe away the dried blood on her face. Kate’s hands were saturated, her clothes caked with the drying substance. There was so much of it, so much. And while Yelena knew it would be too much to coax Kate into taking a shower, she worked with what she had.

“I should have done more. When they were walking towards her, I waited. We… wanted to see what they would do, and they opened fire, Lena.”

It was a bold move. They had somehow clocked that they were being watched and made a massive play that was bordering on pure aggression. Kate could feel anger form cold in her stomach.

“We will handle it.” Yelena moved to Kate’s hands, working away at the dark red tint. When she said that, Kate knew she meant it. There was a darkness in her eyes that mirrored the underlying sorrow Kate felt in your absence.

They sat quietly for a moment. The only sounds were the scrubbing of Yelena’s efforts and the small sniffs as Kate let her tears hit the collar of her shirt. The words, they were stuck in her throat.

“What if she doesn’t make it?”

Forbade their close proximity, and Yelena would not have heard the question, but her heart broke undoubtedly. She stopped working away at the color, now a dingy orange, something that was manageable and less gory.

Yelena knew how Kate Bishop felt about you. She would have been a terrible assassin if she did not pick up on the soft gestures, the longing looks, and the seconds that sparked between you both while you sparred; your back against the mat, Kate pinning you down with a smile that could only ring in it’s truest form.

She hadn’t admitted it yet, despite the poking and prodding that Yelena forced upon her. After all, their line of work was a dangerous one, and not a place to pine. Life was too short not to ask for what you wanted, and that was truer now than it ever had been.

“We will handle that too, Malen'kiy yastreb. Right now, you have to be with her. When Natasha was in her coma, they said she wouldn’t pull through, but she did. They also said that just being there was what helped her hold on. Talking to her. Perhaps you should do the same?”

It wasn’t a question, not really, because Yelena stood and tapped the side of Kate’s knee to jolt her from her trance. She’d stopped crying, at least, a numbness spreading through her. If she had paid attention to the blood, really paid attention, then she would crumble once more.

Yelena had helped more than she realized, and Kate made a mental note to make it up to her at some point. Despite her rough exterior, Natasha was the one who typically dealt with the feelings. Clint was impossible at it, and Yelena performed in actions rather than words, but Kate didn’t’ need someone to tell her it would all be okay, not right now.

The med bay was mostly empty when Kate returned. There was a nurse in toxic blue scrubs that glanced up at her noncommittedly when she entered, and Kate was oddly thankful for that too. Her eyes darted to your room, a last-minute edition from Tony when one of the team members had an extended stay.

It looked more like an escape pod, bright lights that were dimmed for comfort and a hospital bed. There was a chair that could recline and another one that didn’t. It was built for quarantine if needed, but the door was cracked open.

You looked so small, dwarfed by the machines that worked tirelessly to keep you alive. There was a breathing tube taped to your lips, and a needle had been pushed into the top of your hand. Your stomach and chest had been wrapped with gauze; a small bandage placed over a cut on your brow- so inconsequential.

Kate couldn’t stop the whimper that moved through her lips, but she pressed her fingers against them to stifle the sound. There were so many emotions, so much hurt and anger at herself for not getting to you faster.

She carefully stepped closer, using her stained fingertips to move a strand of hair from your clammy forehead. Kate could hear her tears hitting the scratchy blanket. There was a monitor that beeped along with your heart, and she thought it was much too slow.

“Hi there,” She whispered, taking your hand. It was cold, and she wanted desperately to warm them. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry y/n/n.”

Kate finally broke down, careful with her movements as she sobbed into the small of your neck. You usually smelled of pine, and of the slightest bit of sweat, but all she could get was metal and antiseptic.

“You have to pull through for me, okay? There’s so much we haven’t gotten the chance to do. We haven’t even been on a real mission yet, you know? Clint will never let me live that one down. Getting so fucked up on recon. Who does that?”

Kate paused and waited for your answer. She counted three beeps, before shaking her head and letting out a little laugh. It should have been her in the van, though, the thought of you at her vantage point on the horizon was unheard of.

“You know what, forget the mission, y/n. You know what we really need to do? We need to get you to the beach. God, I’m telling you, it’s just as beautiful as you imagine it to be. My parents have that house on the coast. It’s right on the water, and you can smell the salt from miles away. I’m telling you… miles.”

She let out a small sob, squeezed your hand tightly and kissed your fingers before pressing her forehead against them. She wished they were warmer, she wished you were warm.

“And the sand… people don’t really like sand because it get’s everywhere, and I mean everywhere, but y/n/n, the sun warms it all day and then at night, at night when you can’t see past the darkness of the waves and it’s not as crowded with people and kids, and dogs, you can still hold onto that one bit of morning.

“I had my first kiss there, down by the docks. I remember it so clearly. It was awful. I’m talking open-mouthed, slobbery, and just much too long even though it only lasted seconds.”

Kate chuckled at the memory, shook her head. She looked at you, at your delicate features and the small scars that littered your skin. They weren’t all from today, and she ached for you to explain each and every faded mark while her fingers traced them.

“I remember thinking, this is it? I’ve waited my whole life for this? I was only fifteen, and my life wasn’t all that long of a wait yet, but the older I get, the more I realize that that first kiss isn’t anything special. Sure, we were on the beach, and the sky was this cotton-candy type of pink. It was supposed to be perfect. But it wasn’t, because I wasn’t with the right person.”

She swallowed hard, her mouth was suddenly dry. She wished she had more time. She wished that she could spend another day with you, struggling over road-maps with a red twist of licorice hanging out of the side of your mouth. Kate craved a day where the sun was too strong, and the lemonade just the right amount of sour. She wanted to see the look on your face when you realized how vast the ocean is.

“When you get better, I’ll take you out there. I’ll take you to the beach and we’ll sit on the docks and we’ll watch the sunset. Every single night, we’ll watch the sunset, okay? But we can’t do that if you don’t pull through. If you don’t fight, I’ll never know… we’ll never know if that perfect moment exists.”

Kate cried until she drifted off to sleep, half-draped across your body in the most conscious of ways as if not to disturb you. She stirred once when the nurse came in and checked your fluids. Then twice the next morning when Natasha was there to coax her into drinking some water from a cheap Styrofoam cup.

Nothing had changed in two days, and Kate still remained rooted in her spot, shifting around the room. Clint brought her a change of clothes, and she made him turn around when she stripped and pulled on one of his t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants that were much too big.

Kate protested that she was getting enough sleep, and she would pick at the meals that they brought in for her. She refused to leave your side, sometimes pacing the length of the room in her socks as she told you all about the summer she turned sixteen and her adventures in their vacation home.

Most of the time, she would watch the slow rise and fall of your chest. She had grown accustomed to the rhythm of it. She wouldn’t take her eyes off you, looking for the faintest sign of movement. Something to let her know that you were still there.

A month in, and she was brought a cot, but still squeezed into the small sliver next to you. She watched the lights on the ceiling. Kate told you about all the places she wanted to take you; the small gas station that sold the best fried fish (trust her, it’s safe), and the fair that would occupy the last fifty yards of the pier for two weeks in July.

Two months in, and Natasha finally dared to go past the small opening of the room. She had watched from the window, and Kate hadn’t noticed. She and Clint would stand and talk for hours, taking in Kate’s heartbreak as she read from Earnest Hemmingway’s “The Old Man from the Sea” over and over again.

Natasha had shyly produced a copy of “The Sun Also Rises” before lowering herself into the uncomfortable chair in the room. Kate watched her warily, thanked her for the book. She held her breath until it burned.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s voice was quiet, barely heard over the roar of the machines “Katie,”

“No.”

“As your handler it’s my responsibility-“

“I said no!” Kate was standing now, her voice loud. She would never dare yell at Natasha. She’d never dream of it. For the first three months of their professional partnership, she struggled to even look the woman in the eye. Natasha didn’t flinch, she didn’t say anything. “I’m not giving up on her.”

“We have to prepare for the possibility that she’s not going to wake up.”

“She’s fighting, breathing on her own now, and I’m not going to let you come in here and tell me that she’s not going to come back. You’re the last person I would expect to come in here and tell me to give up. Tell her to give up!” Kate’s voice was losing steam “If this is about resources I can-“

“It’s not about resources, Kate. It’s about you. We’ve been watching you torture yourself for months now and there’s been no sign of brain activity.”

“Will you stop being so clinical about this? This is y/n.” Kate begged, her words finally broke, shattered into a million pieces. “y/n is in there, I know it. She has to be. She has to be because if she’s not, if she’s… fuck!”

Kate was frustrated and exhausted. Her knees buckled and Natasha, with her spy-like reflexes, had her wrapped in her arms in moments. She let Kate cry, both of them uncomfortably on the floor, the tile cool. Natasha soothed her, tucked Kate’s nose against her neck. There was the slightest bit of pine.

“This is all my fault,” Kate murmured when she calmed “it’s all my fault.”

It had been a week after her conversation with Natasha and Kate was still headstrong in her efforts, though the woman’s words never truly left her. She was a good way through ‘The Sun Also Rises’, nodding off between paragraphs.

Kate’s feet were on the bed, the chair expertly balanced on it’s hind legs with the accuracy of an archer. She felt herself tilting back. Truth was, Kate was tired. Not in the physical sense, though her body hurt.

Despite what Natahsa, and Clint, and probably Yelena thought, Kate would be by your side until the end of time. She’d have to forge books about the ocean that had more plot, but refused to pick up a copy of Moby Dick.

Instead, she let out a sigh and closed the book over her fingers, squeezing the bridge of her nose. She thought of the beach, of her first kiss with Mickey Voit. More than anything, she thought of how nice it would be to feel your lips against hers, to see the bright look of life in your eyes.

Kate figured she had drifted off to an uncomfortable form of half-sleep when she heard it.

“You’re not going to keep reading?”

The voice was raspy, barely above a murmur. The words were unpracticed, but they meant everything all the same. Kate nearly tumbled from her chair; the book certainly flew to the ground as all four legs returned to stability.

She must be asleep, dreaming, or dead. Your stare bore into hers, red-rimmed but there all the same. And you were smiling, God, you were actually smiling after all of this time. It was a sight she thought she would never see again.

“Come on, you were getting to the part about never falling in love.”

“Always,” Kate gripped the armrests of the seat, afraid to let go. Fearful that if she did, she’d wake up and all of this would be over. You would be gone. “I am always in love.”

You blew air from your nose and started coughing, a brittle sound that made Kate stir from her position entirely. Damned if this was a dream, you needed a doctor. She’d will herself to sleep if it meant seeing you again.

Kate called for Cho frantically and stepped back when she rushed into the room, followed by two nurses and an intern that she had come to know based on her pitying glances. Kate really wanted to punch her in the face, most times, but was never happier to see her in this moment.

“Good god,” Doctor Cho quickly went to your side.

She dazedly took your vitals, having you squeeze her finger, something you did with some struggle, weakened from your months out of commission. She pressed the tip of her pen to the balls of your feet, checking your mobility, your lucidity as she guided a straw to your lips and you took a tentative sip.

Kate stood out of the way, her fingers pressed to her lips and her eyes watching every single movement carefully. She relished in your voice, however small it was, as she answered questions.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Agent Y/L/N.” Doctor Cho squeezed your shoulder “I’m going to alert the necessary parties and give you two some alone time… this one never left your side.”

There was a call button if you needed her, and the weight of uncertainty seemed to exit the room. The two of you were alone, as you had been for the last three months. Kate hated how pale you looked; how fragile you were. She wanted to pull you close and squeeze you as if there weren’t 78 stitches across your front.

“It’s so weird,” You lilted your head to the side “I had the strangest dream about the beach. I could see it so clearly, even though I’ve never been there.”

Kate hummed, suddenly timid “That is weird, maybe it was Tahiti?”

“Maybe” You chuckled and then winced “Ouch,”

The archer was at your side in less than a second. Out of habit, she had your hand in hers, quickly forgetting that she hadn’t ever done this before the accident. She still struggled to make the right about of eye contact with you so she wouldn’t’ come off as weird.

Kate groaned “This was easier when you were unconscious,”

“Okay? Ouch again?”

“Not… like that. God, I’m sleep deprived, and totally screwing this up. You would think that three months is enough time to work out a way to talk to a beautiful woman without sticking my fist in my mouth.”

She moved to pull her hand away, but you held onto it with strength to let her know that you never wanted to let her go. She looked down at your grasp, and then back up at you with the beginning of tears in her eyes.

“I didn’t tell you the best part about being at the beach. It was beautiful, really, so vivid and calm. The funny thing is, I was always at the end of this dock and the sky was always this pink color.” You frowned, a small crease between your eyebrows “I could hear you all around me, just pulling me to the end of that dock.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, but you were never there, and quite frankly, Katie, I was getting sick of waiting. So, one day I just jumped into the water, and it was startling, cold, but it woke me up… literally, I suppose. My point… I don’t think I would have jumped if I wasn’t trying to get back to you.”

Kate gently closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips so tenderly against yours. It took a moment for your mind to catch up, but when it did, your warm fingers found their way to her jaw, running along the expanse of her skin, breathing her in. She oddly smelled of sand and salt-water.

You whimpered into the kiss when she grazed an aching spot on your ribs and she was quick to pull back, a look of worry on her face “Sorry, oh god, sorry”

“It’s okay, just a little sore” You beamed at her, forehead pressed close to hers. “Was that better than your kiss with Mickey?”

Kate groaned, her nose cold against your cheek as she murmured “You heard that, huh?”

You had heard everything.

#kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Hawkeye #hawkeye fanfiction #request #Angst #Fluff #Angst with a happy ending #Marvel #Hurt comfort #natasha romanoff #yelena boleva #clint barton

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impasta-wall · 2 months ago

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Silly thoughts I’ve been having about Stucky because I love ships with angst :P

I fear that Steve would run very hot, like sweltering at times. While Bucky, oh sweet Bucky, would run as cold as the day he fell from the freight car. And how sick and twisted that Steve could never forget the day; not even when he’s near Bucky or when he has him on his hands because it’s awful but all he feels is cold, cold, dead, lifeless Bucky.

It keeps him up at night, awake in cold sweat. It doesn’t stop—the fear; until he’s found Bucky and wrapped himself around the soldier. Until he’s so close to him he can hear the thump of his heart and his arms are both warmed to the point they feel real—like flesh from 1941.

#stucky #stuck in my head #again #I think Bucky would also hold Steve at times to know that they’re both here and real #it’s a stress / trauma response #it’s the whole thing of being able to feel someone you thought #was gone be there physically again after so long #it looks mournful but it isn’t always #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #marvel #bio’s stuff

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lookingforhappy · 4 months ago

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transcript of Five's case files on the Hindenburg, the case that he solves for the Commission while working in management:

MEMORANDUM ON INTENDED EVENTS RE: HINDENBURG DISASTER May 6, 1937 The airship will complete its first scheduled demonstration flight for the 1937 season, between Frankfurt, Germany, and Lakehurst. It will depart from Frankfurt about 8:15 P.M, G.M.T., Monday, May 3, and will be due at Lakehurst on the morning of Thursday, May 6. It will be due out of Lakehurst at 10:00 P.M E.S.T, that night. Because of unfavorable winds encountered en route, its arrival at Lakehurst will be deferred until 6:00 P.M, Thursday evening, and departure will be postponed until midnight or later in order to reservice and prepare for the voyage. The ship is owned and operated by the Deutsche Zeppelin Reederei, G.m.b. H, of Berlin, W8, under den Linden, Germany. The flight, which is intended to be one of a series to be arranged into the United States territory during 1937, will be authorized by a provisional air navigation permit from the Secretary of the Navy to the American Zeppelin Transport, Inc., of 354 Fourth Avenue, New York City, as general United States agent of the Deutities at the Naval Air Station at Lakehurst. On March, 1937 the German Government will renew the airworthiness certification of the aircraft, reporting that all of its safety devices had been inspected and found satisfactory. Personnel, including officers, numbered 61, will be on board, of whom 22 will die as a result of the accident. Passengers, 36 persons besides the Crew will be on board. Of these, 13 will die as a result of the accident. Other passengers and members of the crew will sustain serious injuries. Total weight of the freight carried will be 325 pounds and will be stowed in the main freight compartment at Frame 125; 2 dogs will be kenneled at Frame 92, and 3 packages will be stowed in the control car. Mail will be carried in a compartment on the top of the control car. Of the freight and mail on a few pieces of mail will be recovered. The ground personnel will consist of 92 naval personnel and 139 civillians. Practically all of the gorund crew will have previous experienve landing airships. One member of the ground crew will die as a result of burns received during the accident. Across the Atlantic from Germany to the United States, the flight will be uneventful, save for retarding winds which will not be unusually turbulent. The route traveresed by the ship on this side of the ocean will be from Nova Scotia, vis Boston, Providence, Long Island Sound, New Forks and thense cruise along the coast for a few hours before retracing its course from Tuckerton N.J., to the naval Air Station.

ATMOSPHERIC ANOMALIES PRESENT The 7:30 A.M, EST. U.S. Weather Bureau map of the vicinity, including the northeastern tier of states, Shows a disturbance over central New York and northeastern Pennsylvania, with a cold front extending from this center Southwestward to West Virginia. This front separated neutralized polar air to the east of the cold front which had become warmer and more moist and neutralized colder air to the west of the front. The warmer and more moist mass of air covered the Middle Atlantic states, southeastern New York and southern New England. --- The cold front advanced eastward during the day from central Peensylvania at a rate of 12 to 15 m.p.h., passing Lakehurst shortly after 3:30 P.M There was not quite sufficient surface heating during the early afternoon to set off a thunderstom at Lakehurst, and it was not until the front passed and some slight lifting of the air mass occured that a thunderstorm began, The records of the Naval Air Station show that the thunderstorm began at 3:43 P.M and ended at 4:45 P.M --- Telegraphic reports indicate, the thunderstorms in and to the west of New Jersey were not severe; nor were they of a well defined squall character. Between 12 P.M and 1:30 P.M E.S.T., these storms extended in a definite belt over the region of Harrisburg, Pa., northeastward to Bear Mountain, N.Y., and New Hackensack, N.Y. Between 1:30 and 2:40 P.M, none was reported. Between 2:40 and 3:40 P.M, Camden and Fort Monmouth, N.J., only reported thunderstorms. Between 3:30 and 4:30 P.M, Lakehurst, Mtchel Field, N.Y, and Floyd Bennett Field, N.Y., reported them. Between 4:40 and 5:40 P.M. none was reported; and betweeen 5:40 and 6:40 P.M, Floyd Bennett onlt reported one. Summarized, the thunderstorms in eastern New Jersey were of a local character and not severe. --- The New York Weather Bureau office bulletin issued at 1:20 P.M, May 6th, follows: "1800 G.C.T. Moderate wind shift with increasing and lowering clouds possible thundershowers New York and vicinity expected in middle or late afternoon Stop New York Scattered cumulus and small cumulo nimbus approaching from west - visibility excellent surface wind south 12 miles - barometer 29.68 falling steadily temperature 66."

DATE: May 6 1937 0725 EST OPERATION: Hindenburg Disaster DAMAGE: Catastrophic PLACE: Lakehurst, New Jursey, 40.026088, -74.316592 LOCALE: Open air field WEATHER: Light rain PILOT: Commercial TOTAL HOURS: 567 ALL 63 NO TYPE LAST 90 DAYS: 179 ALL 62 NO TYPE CASUALTIES: Crew: 23; Pass: 13 OCCURENCE: Numerous expert and lay witnesses on the field testified as to where they first observed the fire on the ship. There was great diversity in this testimony for reasons that are very apparent. Among the most important of these reasons were the extreme rapidity with which the fire spread, the different positions of the witnesses with respect to the ship, the size of the ship, more than one-sixth of a mile in length, and an over-all height, equicalent to a twelve story building, and the fact that the interval between the first glimpse of flame and the impact of the main body of the ship with the ground was 32 seconds. The great majority of the ground witnesses who testified as to the first sppearance of fire were looking at the port side of the ship. After carefully weighing the oral evidence and transcribing to a master diagram the numerous disgrams on which the gound witnesses indicated their first observations of fire, we conclude that the first open flame, produced by the burning of the ship's hydrogen, appeared on the top of the ship forward of the entering edge of the vertical fin over Cells 4 and 5. The first open flame that was seen at that place was followed after a very brief interval by a burst of flaming hydrogen between the equator and the top of the ship. The fire spread in all directionsmoving progessively for ward at high velocity with a succession of mild explosions. As the stern quarter became enveloped, the ship lost boutanct and cracked at about one-quarter of the distance from the rear end. The forward part assumed a bow-up attitude, the rear appearing to remain level. At the same time the ship was settling to the ground at a moderate rate of descent. Whereas there was a definite detonation after flame was first observed on the ship, we believe that the phenomenon was initially a rapid burning or combustion - not an explostion. From the observations made, is appears that there was a quantity of free hydrogen present in the after part of the ship when the fire originated.

HINDENBURG DIASTER INTELLIGENCE SUMMARY Place | Date | Hour | Summary of Events and Information | Remarks FRANKFURT April | 2. | A deviation occured in the subject's plot to detonate a controlled explosive device on the rear fuel tank of the zeppelin. An alternate plan is underway. | EF 5. | Progress in the creation of the subject's explosive device has stalled. An alternate catalyst is still viable. | SB 7. | The zeppelin has successfully completed it's seventh cross-continent trip carrying 19 crew members | - LAKEHURST May | 9. | Lakehurst Nacal Air Station recevied 8 new directives in preperation for the first cross-continent civilian flight of the zeppelin. German and American organizations continue to increase communications. | EF 12. | Progress continues on the controlled explosive device. Another player emerges in America, a linesman from New York. | SB 15. | The zeppelin is grounded for 2 days as high winds buffer the Western coast of the English Isles. FRANKFURT June | 29. | 300 feet of steel is salwed and loaded up at Frankfurt for repaits to the central gangway after miscalculations in the rate of expansion cause cells 15 and 16 to bend 4 degrees outside of normal variation. | EF Instructions regarding Intelligence Summaries are contained in Regula II and the Management Manual. Title pages will be prepared in manuscript.

The airship will be placed in service early in 1936. It will bear the builder's numer LZ 129 and have been constructed by the Luft Schiffbau Zeppelin of Friedrichschafen, Germany, and organization which also built the 118 Zeppelin type airships. Briefly described, this type of design provides for frame work of duralumin metal girders with tension wires. There is division by fringe wirings of the bosy into different compartments, into which the gas bags are placed to received the lifting gas; a keel walkway to take certain load; a framwork with an outer cover of fabric to give form, and engine cars suspended from the frame outside the ship. The Hindenburg is a Zeppelin type airship, having an axial corridor constructed longitudinally through the center of the hull. During its 9 months of operation in 1936, this airship will make more than 55 flights; flying 2,754 hours, cruising 191, 584 miles, crossing the ocean 34 times, carrying 2, 798 passengers and more than 377,000 pounds of mail and freight, all without mishap. The Hindenburgs length is about 803.8 feet; height, 147 feet; maximum diameter, 135 feet; fineness ratio, about 6; total gas volume, 7, 063, 000 cubic feet; normal volume, 6, 710, 000 cubic feet. Weight of the ship with necessary equipment and fuel is 430, 950 pounds; maximum fuel capacity, 143, 650 pounds; total payload 41, 990 pounds, and total life is 472, 940 pounds. Cruising speed is about 75 statute m.p.h.; maximum speed is slightly over 84 m.p.h. Passenger space is entirely within the hull. The control system is the conventional Zeppelin type control, with two rudders acting as a Unit for horizontal control, and two elevators acting likewise for veritcal control. Emergency elevator and rudder control wheels are installed in the stern of the ship. An electrical gyroscopic device attached to the forward rudder wheel provides automatic steering.

#tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #the commission #transcript

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