#New Pallets New Berlin

[logicallogistics]

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[mariacallous]

Tesla is suing Sweden as the carmaker hits back at an attempt by local unions to disrupt its business in an ongoing battle over workers’ rights.

In the lawsuit, filed Monday, Tesla says it is suing “the Swedish state through the Swedish Transport Agency” because local union members were refusing to deliver new license plates to the company, effectively blocking Tesla from selling new cars in the country. In a quick decision, the Norrköping district court said the company should be allowed to circumvent existing rules and collect its license plates itself. The Swedish Transport Agency has 14 days to respond to the decision.

Swedish unions describe their fight against Tesla as existential for the Swedish labor market. Sweden doesn’t have laws that dictate workers’ rights, such as minimum wage. Instead, around 90 percent of Swedish workers are covered by collective agreements, a type of contract that regulates the relationship between employers and their employees, including pay, pensions, and working hours. Tesla’s refusal to sign a collective agreement with its mechanics has enraged union bosses, who are worried the company could set a precedent.

“It’s the whole system that is at stake,” says Tommy Wreeth, chairman of the Swedish Transport Workers’ Union, whose members are refusing to unload Tesla cargo at Swedish ports. “That’s why all Swedish unions see this as a crucial fight.”

License plates stopped being delivered to Tesla when Seko, the Swedish union representing postal workers, joined a countrywide blockade against the company on November 20. Seko said its members would not deliver post, parcels, or pallets to Tesla until it signed a collective agreement with Swedish car mechanics, who have been on strike since October 27. Tesla filed a separate lawsuit against the Nordic postal service PostNord in an attempt to get the company to release its packages.

The lawsuits are part of a growing crisis in Sweden, with more unions joining action against Tesla. The revolt started with the union representing the mechanics, IF Metall, but other Swedish unions have since introduced “sympathy measures” in an attempt to force the company to sign. Swedish cleaners are refusing to clean Tesla showrooms, electricians won’t fix the company’s charging points, and dockworkers are refusing to unload Tesla cargo at Swedish ports.

“We note that Tesla has chosen to take the long route, starting legal proceedings,” says Veli-Pekka Säikkälä, national bargaining secretary at IF Metall. “There is a simple and quick way to solve this situation, and that is to sign a collective agreement. As soon as Tesla does that, the conflict ends.”

Tesla CEO Elon Musk commented publicly on the Swedish blockade for the first time last week, calling the situation “insane” in a comment on X. But the lawsuit is the first sign that Tesla’s business in Sweden—its fifth largest European market—has been affected by the blockade.

“[It tells us] they are desperate,” claims Jonas Pettersson, a spokesperson for Seko, adding he hopes the company will sign a collective agreement with IF Metall in due course. Tesla did not immediately respond to WIRED’s request for comment.

Sweden’s transport agency has not yet seen the lawsuit, according to spokesperson Mikael Andersson, but he confirmed it had been submitted. “Tesla believes that the Swedish Transport Agency does not meet the requirement to provide registration plates to newly registered vehicles in Sweden,” he says. “We at the Swedish Transport Agency do not share this view.” The agency is neutral in the conflict, Andersson adds.

The lawsuit was filed three days after workers at a Swedish factory that makes Tesla parts and sends them to the company’s gigafactory in Berlin joined the blockade. On Friday, around 50 unionized workers employed by a Swedish subsidiary of the Norwegian company Hydro stopped working on Tesla products at the company’s plant in Vetlanda, in southern Sweden.

“As of November 24, the production of certain products at the plant is affected by what is a legal union action in Sweden,” says Hydro spokesperson Halvor Molland. He declined to comment on whether the blockade had impacted shipments to Tesla’s factory in Berlin.

[tobikeck]

Sinister Character #4 #1 #2

2020/2024; Burlap thread stitched onto found scrap fabrics. Padded and framed into scrap pallet timber; each 55 x 45 x 4 cm

(wooden sculpture in the right by Paul Waak)

A new series of works, first shown at Home Zone, the duo exhibition with Paul Waak at Backhaus Projects, Berlin Neukölln, Nov. 2024.

fotos © Amaan Hassen, 2024

[thehippaes]

The worst of Bangers - playlist

Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2ZZ3PEFfGCqNIVWUVpFt9t?si=4842722153114449 Intro Unbearable narcissist that I am, I was thrilled to see that Isaac Asimov’s Foundation was being adapted into a big budget straight-to-the-internet TV series not because I honestly thought it would be any good, but because I hoped it might finally vindicate one of Bangers’ most (perhaps unfairly?) maligned songs if a few more people consumed the source material that it was an extremely concise precis of. As it happens I’m proper enjoying the series, faithless as the adaptation is - incorporating both emotions and women (two of my favourite things) neither of which were really even hinted at in the books. This train of thought, the fact that Small Pleasures turned 10 earlier this year, and my realisation that I find most of the Bangers back catalogue to weigh heavily on my creative soul as well intentioned but badly executed trash, led me to create a Spotify playlist called The worst of Bangers and write this accompanying blog to revisit some of the most forgotten, dismissed and/or reviled deep cuts. Before I start, these songs are included for a variety of metrics, often because they have a noted down-turn of listens on Spotify compared their album position. That’s not a great metric for a band who split up before Spotify achieved the godlike ubiquity that it now enjoys, but c’est la pomme de la terre. If you can hum any of these songs just by reading their names then you’re doing better than me 3 hours ago. Asimov When Bird was released, I remember several people telling me that this song shouldn’t have made the cut. I got the impression that some people thought it was a joke that didn’t sit that well on an album that was mostly dwelling on depression and suicide, and some others thought it was just a bit shit. Exactly nobody told me that they understood what I was getting at, so for the sake of posterity I’ll explain what it meant to me. Foundation – as I see it – is a musing on humankind’s repeated inability to learn one of the most universal lessons. The story begins with the fall of the Galactic Empire, and each subsequent generation confronts a crisis which requires rejecting the philosophy of the previous generation. Each time, the ruling forces adamantly refuse to realise this – rigidly adhering to the most recent philosophy - until one character tricks them into it and saves the day, thus ushering in a new age. I find the prescience of this to be one of the most depressing facts of human existence, and something I was wallowing in at the time, hence the song. Listening back I think the chorus is great, and Andrew’s weird bass slide in the middle is a joy. Vibrate This song is undeniably cool, but every time we played it people stared at us like we were stupid. I think it’s the emotional pay-off for Bird, after such a miserable time it’s just an acceptance that probably the healthiest thing to do is to accept defeat and plod on ignoring all the glitzy wiff-waff and intriguing mysticism in the world. This is the Bangers song I still sing to myself when I’m doing really practical DIY like building shelves. The truth that I’m more of a practical ox of a guy than an ethereal waif has been one of the healthiest realisations of my life. Stressful Festival The only thing that I ever heard said about this song was that it sounded ‘like Bangers’ on an album that largely didn’t. I think that’s bullshit, Bangers very rarely played this kind of classic on-the-beat punk vibe. Two interesting facts about this song: 1. I remember writing all the guitar riffs in Berlin after playing with De Cracks in the Ramones Museum and their Ramones-core translating much better to acoustic guitar than any of Banger’s music did. 2. While recording I puked in my mouth singing “sick to death of every one of you” and swallowed it again before coming in for the last chorus. If you listen really hard you can hear it coming up. A Quite Different Coastline In amongst the fairly weird Crazy Fucking Dreams album, this song performs especially badly with people who aren’t in Bangers. I think it rips, but Spotify figures confirm a proper dip compared to the rest of this album. I just don’t know what’s wrong with people sometimes! Bad Jokes Someone in Austria told me to my face that this song was too boring, and we pretty much stopped playing it after that. I think it has a janky song structure, and the nearest thing to a chorus it has (none of the songs on Crazy Fucking Dreams really have a chorus) isn’t that catchy, but I think the song is OK. I can confirm that nobody ever shouted for us to play it live. The Nick of Time OK, here’s a proper deep-cut. It’s the first B-side from the Blind Hindsight single, and I couldn’t remember anything about it before listening today. I remember we cut it from Crazy Fucking Dreams because it didn’t sit well with the other songs, but on reflection it really carried the core message that I was trying to get across in that album. Namely that history forgets just about everybody, so why should we feel obligated to be interested in anything that’s mainstream enough to be remembered. I suspect that the lyrics are not that relatable, but they’re a good diary entry for me to remember the first person I ever watched die. Log Jam Second B-side. I believe we only ever had two B-sides. We recorded this in our practise room in Exeter, and I seem to remember we tracked it back to front with the piano first and drums last. Maybe Hamish was at work until late or something. This is the song to drag out if anyone tries to tell you Bangers were just a gruff punk band who sounded like The Menzingers. I think there’s a weird time signature change, and that’s probably not because we were trying to be clever if you know what I mean. A man like Jack McCall This is named after the guy who shot Wild Bill in Deadwood. I loved that show, but at the time I knew I was much more a drunken cowardly shit-heel than any of the heroic (or at least stoic) characters. It was on the Good Livin’ EP which I find mostly unlistenable because of some very sketchy guitar playing. This was the weird plodder at the end which we probably played live a handful of times and then realised that nobody really wanted to hear it and it wasn’t that fun to play. Every night’s a date night On the subject on not being fun to play, this song was always a pain. Something about the timing at the start just baffled Hamish, so we ditched playing it as soon as we had enough songs. However in my mind this is one of THE archetypal Bangers songs, it’s got that lolloping, on-the-push rhythm, not a normal power chord in sight, and three quite distinct sections without anything approaching a chorus. Small Pleasures is definitely our most listened to album on Spotify, but where some of those songs really defined how Bangers were perceived, this never really landed. The Love Nest I straight up laughed out loud today when I saw we’d called a song The Love Nest. I couldn’t remember anything about it until I listened to it today for the first time in years. We played this a lot when we were relevant to the DIY scene in about 2011, and I think people used to sing along. It’s included here because I fully forgot it existed. There was a positive vibe (when no one was left alive) + Walking on the ground These two songs make up the Last Songs EP (single?) that we just about managed to release in time for our last ever show. I think we’d decided to split up by the time we recorded them, but I wouldn’t put money on it. I don’t know if we ever played Positive Vibe live, which is a shame because both songs are great. I think the album that these songs were meant to become would have nailed a good mix of dirty pop that we were aiming at in that moment. We probably would have messed it up though. Outro After I put this playlist together I went and listened to Challenger – Give people what they want in lethal doses as a pallet cleanser. I heartily recommend you do the same. Go and support Andrew and Kay’s new doughnut shop Future Doughnuts in Bristol, and visit Hamish in Cambridge. I’m doing fine. Roo

[addictedtooverwatch]

Overwatch 2 Maps: The Galápagos Islands

So, on my post about the Junker Queen, I mentioned that I was going to make another post about a cut map, so this is that post! Out of the cut maps I went over, I chose the Galápagos Islands. Similarly like my Berlin post, I am going to be going over what the real world Galápagos Islands are like and what the map would most likely be like in game. 

Real World Galápagos Islands: The Galápagos Islands are an archipelago of volcanic islands located in the Pacific Ocean. It is famous for being one of the best locations for wildlife-viewing with a diverse population of plant and animal species, some found nowhere else in the world. It is a province of Ecuador that lies about 1,000 kilometers off its coast. Charles Darwin’s, the father of evolution, visit to the islands in 1835 led to him developing his Theory of Evolution. 

The Galápagos Islands in Overwatch: Like Berlin, we know very little about the cut map, but I’ll go over what we know, then do some speculating.

It was supposed to be a control point map that, unlike any map in the game, was going to be underwater. It has a color pallet of blues, greens, greys, and black. There are two large submarines and three or four smaller drone like things. Now for speculation. 

Based off of the one image we have, the control pointing looking like an old-run down underwater military base with some details at the top that reminds me of a ship wreck. It looks like it is being searched by the larger submarines as well as the smaller drones. The larger submarines might be the spawn points which might mean that going from the spawn rooms(submarines?) to the control point(main base area) would be like the space area on Horizon Lunar Colony, but underwater. This would be a really cool concept because we have seen that the creative team for Overwatch makes amazing looking maps like Rome, Paris, and Castillo, and having an UNDERWATER map would be a huge flex. It would mean that we could see animals like fish, sea turtles, sharks, rays, or sea lions moving around in the map. As a marine biology nerd and an Overwatch player, I feel like people would LOVE this map! 

Anyways, I’m probably going to go over a concept for a possible new character soon, and once the Archives Event drops, I will go over all of the skins. 

TLDR: The Galápagos Islands are a volcanic archipelago found in the Pacific Ocean. It is known for its diverse wildlife and for being where Charles Darwin developed his Theory of Evolution. If it ended up being put into Overwatch 2 it would be an underwater control point map. The control point would probably be an old underwater base area. The spawn room would probably be two large submarines. I want this map because they could add a lot of animals in the background. 

[newstfionline]

Monday, May 3, 2021

Global coronavirus cases are surging, driven by India and South America (NYT) The number of new daily cases has exceeded 800,000 for more than a week. The spike is largely driven by the outbreak in India, which now accounts for more than 40 percent of the world’s new cases. The U.S. plans to halt travel for non-U.S. citizens from India starting Tuesday. Vaccines in India are running short, hospitals are swamped and cremation grounds are burning thousands of bodies every day. Health experts and political analysts say that Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s overconfidence and domineering leadership style bear a huge share of the responsibility for the crisis. Meanwhile, Indians living abroad are frantically seeking to help sick relatives. Much of South America is also faring poorly. Uruguay, Paraguay, Brazil, Peru, Argentina and Colombia all rank among the 20 nations with the highest number of Covid deaths per capita.

Elderly statesman? (NYT) Arnold Schwarzenegger left the California governor’s mansion 10 years ago. He is a more popular political figure today than when he was elected. Over the past year, the former Republican governor, now 73, has been in demand, embracing an unlikely role that he describes as “elderly statesman.” He’s made public service announcements on hand washing, raised millions of dollars for protective health gear and is now being sought out for guidance on the Republican-led effort to oust Gov. Gavin Newsom, the same mechanism that led to Schwarzenegger’s election in 2003. “When you leave office, you realize—well, I realized—that I just couldn’t cut it off like that,” he said in a three-hour interview.

Looming showdown as Michigan governor orders Canadian pipeline shut down (Washington Post) For Michigan’s governor, the 645-mile pipeline jeopardizes the Great Lakes. For Canada’s natural resources minister, its continued operation is “nonnegotiable.” The clash over Calgary-based Enbridge’s Line 5, which carries up to 540,000 barrels of crude oil and natural gas liquids across Michigan and under the Great Lakes each day, is placing stress on U.S.-Canada ties. In a move applauded by environmentalists and Indigenous groups on both sides of the border, Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer (D) in November ordered the firm to shut down the nearly 70-year-old lines by May 12. Canadian officials, including Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, have appealed to their American counterparts, including President Biden, Secretary of State Antony Blinken and Energy Secretary Jennifer Granholm for help. Joe Comartin, Canada’s consul general in Detroit, said a shutdown would have “significant” impacts on both sides of the border. He predicted effects ranging from months-long propane shortages to higher costs for consumers to fuels being carried by rail, truck or boat—methods that he said are less emissions-friendly and more dangerous than a pipeline. One “irritant,” he said, is “the claim from the state that they are doing this to protect the Great Lakes, that they’re more interested in protecting the Great Lakes than we in Canada are. Basically, we reject that completely.”

NYC Eyes Reopening (Bloomberg) New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio said yesterday the city would aim to fully reopen July 1, lifting restrictions on restaurants, gyms, and all other businesses. A return to normal would mark a symbolic moment for both New Yorkers and the country—America's most populous city was a global epicenter early in the pandemic, registering an average of 800 deaths per day last April. The city is averaging roughly 1,700 new cases per day, down 70% since January, reporting about 30 deaths per day.

Kissinger warns of ‘colossal’ dangers in US-China tensions (AFP) Acclaimed diplomat Henry Kissinger said Friday that US-China tensions threaten to engulf the entire world and could lead to an Armageddon-like clash between the two military and technology giants. The 97-year-old former US secretary of state, who as an advisor to president Richard Nixon crafted the 1971 unfreezing of relations between Washington and Beijing, said the mix of economic, military and technological strengths of the two superpowers carried more risks than the Cold War with the Soviet Union. Strains with China are “the biggest problem for America, the biggest problem for the world,” Kissinger told the McCain Institute’s Sedona Forum on global issues. “Because if we can’t solve that, then the risk is that all over the world a kind of cold war will develop between China and the United States.” While nuclear weapons were already large enough to damage the entire globe during the Cold War, he said advances in nuclear technology and artificial intelligence—where China and the United States are both leaders—have multiplied the doomsday threat. “For the first time in human history, humanity has the capacity to extinguish itself in a finite period of time,” Kissinger said.

Thousands march in Colombia in fourth day of protests against tax plan (Reuters) Thousands of Colombians took to the streets on Saturday for International Workers’ Day marches and protests against a government tax reform proposal, in a fourth day of demonstrations that have resulted in at least four deaths. Unions and other groups kicked off marches on Wednesday to demand the government of President Ivan Duque withdraw the reform proposal, which originally leveled sales tax on public services and some food. Cali, the country’s third-largest city, has seen the most vociferous marches, some looting and at least three deaths connected to the demonstrations.

Europe’s economy shrinks amid slow vaccine rollouts and lockdowns (Washington Post) With swaths of Europe still under lockdown restrictions and facing a stuttering vaccination rollout, the region’s economy slid into a double-dip recession in the first quarter of the year, in contrast to a rosy outlook in the United States. The European economy shrank by 0.6 percent in the first quarter of the year, according to data released Friday. The U.S. economy grew by 1.6 percent over the same period, amid massive federal stimulus spending and a speedy vaccination rollout. Export-dependent Germany, which had already been heading toward recession before the pandemic as manufacturing dropped off, saw its economy shrink by 1.7 percent, the most in Europe. The economies of Spain, Italy and Portugal also contracted. Much of Europe is battling a third wave of coronavirus infections. Germany has a nighttime curfew in place in 15 of its 16 states, and shopping requires booking appointments and getting a negative test.

Dozens of German police injured in May Day riots (AP) At least 93 police officers were injured and 354 protesters were detained after traditional May Day rallies in Berlin turned violent, Berlin’s top security official said Sunday. More than 20 different rallies took place in the German capital on Saturday and the vast majority of them were peaceful. However, a leftist march of 8,000 people through the city’s Neukoelln and Kreuzberg neighborhood, which has often seen clashes in past decades, turned violent. Protesters threw bottles and rocks at officers, and burned garbage containers and wooden pallets in the streets. There’s a nightly curfew in most parts of Germany currently because of the high number of coronavirus infections. But political protests and religious gatherings are exempt from the curfew.

Big Myanmar protests aim to ‘shake the world’; seven killed (Reuters) Myanmar security forces opened fire on some of the biggest protests against military rule in days, killing at least seven people on Sunday, media reported, three months after a coup plunged the country into crisis. The protests, after a spell of dwindling crowds and what appeared to be more restraint by the security forces, were coordinated with demonstrations in Myanmar communities around the world to mark what organisers called “the global Myanmar spring revolution”. Streams of demonstrators, some led by Buddhist monks, made their way through cities and towns including the commercial hub of Yangon. The protests are only one of the problems the generals have brought on with their Feb. 1 ouster of the elected government. Wars with ethnic minority insurgents in remote frontier regions in the north and east have intensified significantly over the past three months, displacing tens of thousands of civilians, according to U.N. estimates. In some places, civilians with crude weapons have battled security forces while in central areas military and government facilities that have been secure for generations have been hit by rocket attacks and a wave of small, unexplained blasts.

Vaccinated faithful throng Jerusalem church for Holy Fire (AP) Hundreds of Christian worshippers made use of Israel’s easing of coronavirus restrictions Saturday, packing a Jerusalem church revered as the site of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection for an ancient fire ceremony a day before Orthodox Easter. The faithful gathered at The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, waiting for clergymen to emerge with the Holy Fire from the Edicule, a chamber built on the site where Christians believe Jesus was buried and rose from the dead after being crucified. As bells rang and the top clerics from different Orthodox denominations appeared, the worshippers scrambled to light their candles and pass the fire on. Within a minute, the imposing walls of the old church glowed.

Israel asks whether autonomy of the ultra-Orthodox contributed to the deadly stampede (Washington Post) Israel’s ultra-Orthodox residents exist in a world within the world, citizens of Israel but pledging their allegiance, attention and obedience instead to their rabbis and God. In isolated enclaves, they are exempt from the military draft, outside the national school system and—in apartments usually without Internet or television—largely oblivious to the surrounding culture. Now, this shocked country is asking whether that self-segregation—and the secular politicians who have enabled it for decades—is responsible for the worst civilian catastrophe in Israel’s history, the trampling death of 45 ultra-Orthodox men and boys at a massively overcrowded religious festival in the early hours of the morning Friday. The ultra-Orthodox, or Haredim as they are known in Israel, follow some of the most conservative tenets in Judaism and have a lifestyle based on the Jewish culture that evolved hundreds of years ago in the communities of Eastern Europe. Since Israel’s founding, state leaders have sought preserve this culture after much of it was devastated during World War II.      When more than 100,000 members of the Haredim convened for a boisterous annual festival at an ancient rabbi’s tomb on Mount Meron, they overflowed a narrow, sloped compound known to both government and religious leaders as a potentially dangerous setting. Sunday, as the final victims were being buried and flags around the country flew at half-mast in a national day of mourning, multiple investigations were getting underway that will target police planning, local regulators, site managers and national ministries with responsibility for oversight. Already, journalists and whistleblowers have unearthed a shocking paper trail of warnings ignored, recommendations overruled and absent supervision. Officials have been called to account for meetings in recent weeks in which specific recommendations from health and safety authorities were overruled at the behest of Haredi groups.

[alolanrain]

Cursed Object

(all true stories, just with characters swapped in for people)

It starts on July 3rd, 2007. Delia is inlisting all of Red’s friends, their parents, Ash, and the Oaks into helping clean out her garage and finally throw away junk from her late husband since he was a fucking Packrat. At this point she enlisted like half of pallet Town in the beginning. The sun was setting and they can finally see most of the garage flooring. Everyone was chugging drinks and eating several boxes of pizza Blue’s mom had ordered because no one was cooking that night. Everything was fine...

Until Red, at the ripe old age of 7, came ambling out of the garage with a large plastic bat that was a horrid Orange color.

“Mama?” Red yelled across the yard to his mom who was talking to Blue’s Grandma, easily getting Delia’s and half the people’s attention as well, “what’s this?” Raising the plastic bat into the setting rays it flashed an even brighter disgusting orange.

“I don’t know, sweetie.” Delia sighed before waving her eldest away. Eyeing Blue who was cooking over 4 year old Ash and Gary who was six months younger.

“That’s a Wiffleball bat, my boy.” Professor Oak scared the living daylights out of Red by landing a hand on his skinny shoulder. “Your father was great at baseball and Wiffleball was his first sport. He wanted to play with you and Ash when you two had gotten older but never found the time with his job.”

“Ah.” Red muttered lamely before ducking out of Oaks grip and trotting over to his friends. Green had his baby brother in his grip that was eyeing the bat. Red gave the bigger end to the boy, allowing him to feel the surprisingly soft playable plastic, and pulling it away soon after when he tried to put his mouth on it. Luckily he didn’t fuss, turning back to his teething ring instead while eyeing at Blue who still cradled Red’s own brother.

“You know,” Green started, that greedy look in his eyes shining brightly and caused a sinking feeling to form in Reds gut, “Wiffleball and baseball sound pretty lame and boring. I would be embarrassed if my dad made me play baseball.” He spat.

Next thing any adult knew Red had Instinctively swung the large plastic bat as hard has he could in his sitting position next to Green directly into the boys face. Causing Green to drop Gary and for both boys to start wailing. Gary because he bonked his face directly into the dry, hot summer ground, and Green because his nose was now bleeding.

“At least my mom didn’t leave me by choice.” He spat before making eye contact with Blue who looked at him with wide eyes and then at Ash who started tearing up from the yelling.

“Alfred Johnston Ketchum!” Delia screeched across the yard. Making everyone, who was in shock because passive, soft spoken, and loving Red had just down that, jump at the women’s sudden scream of rage.

Red immediately let go of the bat and immediately looked between Green, his hands, and then to his mom before repeating.

———

The next time the bat was taken out of the garage, and Delia had sworn to the police that she had torn the thing up in front of all the rest of adults after the kids were sent home, was next month. Red and Green made their truce yet again for the fifth time since the end of July.

They were playing some kind of ball game out in the back of Greens Grandpa’s lab. Gary and Ash were at some kind of baby appointment so the kids were put under Oaks watch... though he isn’t really doing a lot of kid sitting when he’s staring at the TV half dead basically from the heat.

Red had gone home, while Blue went to hers and Green went down to the Professors basement, to try and find a bat. When he got into his garage, sitting right in the middle of the concrete floor, was the Wiffleball bat. Shrugging he leaped down the two steps and scooped the bat up before charging, much to his mistake, across town and back to the Oak Labs. Both Blue and Green couldn’t find a better bat at their place so they used the one Red brought.

They only lasted an hour until the sun peaked at its hottest and the parents weren’t back yet either. Probably having lunch or grocery shopping since they are in Veridian.

“I’m hot!” Blue complained. Dragging her feet and pulling at her dress. Red chose not to comment at the pit stains that were growing where her dress was pressed between her armpits. “Can’t we go inside?”

“And listen to Grandpa snore the entire time?” Green asked, Shaking his head, “absolutely not. We can’t even change the channel or else he’ll get super mad when he wakes up.” A loud snore echoed from the open window into the living room and made all three kids flinch a little. Lousy old man. “Let’s just continue on playing.”

He tossed the ball to Blue, who had the orange bat that looked even worse out in the sun, who tried to swing it but was to slow.

“I’m tired!” She threw the bat down. Tears pricking her eyes as she continued to stomp her feet like it was supposed to intimidate Red and Green besides being annoying. ”tired, hot, and hungry!”

“Oh stop being a pansy!” Green snarled. Red could only nod his head and murmur and verbal agreement with Green.

“I’m not a pansy!” Blue shouted before stomping off and into the porch. Twirling around and sinking down onto a shaded step. Crossing her arms and pointing while glaring holes into Greens head.

Reds best friend turned to him and pointed behind his back at Blue, “girls are always so weak against guys, that’s why they stay at home and take care of the babies and chores while we men do the real work.”

Next thing Red knew Green had almost fallen into him. Blue standing behind him with the Wiffleball bat raised and an angry rabid look into her eyes. Before Red could do anything to try and placate both or just one of them. Blue descended upon Green.

Hit after hit, Blue didn’t stop. A look Red had only seen in one of those horror movies on the killers face on hers. His little feet carried him into the hose before nearly barreling into Grandpa Oak who started awake with a shout.

“It’s Blue and Green,” Red panted, “their fighting and Blues trying to draw blood.”

“Fucking Arceus-“ Oak struggles to get up from the rocking recliner.

“Grandpa! Make Blue stop!” Green shouted from the backyard. Pokémon from big to small had come out fo their hidy-holes to see what was happening.

“Make me yourself coward!” Blue shouted back before a particular loud Thwak! Was heard.

“Grandpa!”

“What happened to men being stronger then girls!? Where’s your logic now you wet-willy bug-sucker!”

That had ended with the parents rushing home, police called by a bitchy neighbor named Mr. Hickiby, and an ER lady stitching the side of Greens forehead in an ambulance that was also called because Mr. Hickiby had exaggerated every detail over the call.

All three were so grounded.

———

The Wiffleball bat popped up once more around 2010, August 18 to be exact. No one knew where Ash had gotten ahold of it since the three had set fire to the bat last year. but soon he was charging out of the front entry way with Houndoom hot on his heels, speedy little fucker Ash is, and came speeding past Red who was walking home and Berliner straight for Champion Lance who was walking a bit behind Red to enjoy the view of the country side of Kanto.

Lance has bugged Red to show him his home town, not like there’s a lot to see in little ol’Pallet Town besides fields and farms and more fields. Now that Red was an equal to Lance and also technically Lance’s boss since he’s apart of the aka to Elite Four he had wanted to get to know more fo the soft spoken boy.

The Champion wasn’t expecting him to have such a terror of a little brother.

Ash had planted his feet down and slid in the loose gravel. Sliding by and swinging the Wiffleball bat as much as he could into Lance’s groin. Making the much older man double down and the force swung little Ash aroudn to where the bag had hit Lance’s ass with the same amount of force. This causes Lance to sink to his knees with a high picked whine.

Soul the Houndoom, Red and Ash’s mother’s Pokémon, barreled into Ash and bit into the loose part of a shirt and continued to tug the little seven year old back to the house.

Red had yelled at Ash without any words before turning to Lance. Not knowing what to do. All the while trying to ignore Green and Blue who chased Ash and Soul out of the house and are fucking loosing it behind the two in the grass.

Ash shouted that he was in the right because the strange weirdly dressed man, who must be higher then a kite, looked like he was gonna mug Red. That had sent Green and Blue deeper into hysteria while Red tried not to let his anger get the best of him.

———

The bat didn’t make a resurface until December 12 of 2012. Ash was nine and Red was twelve. His ass had just gotten dragged down from Mount. Silver by Green, Blue, two kids named Gold and Crystal, and then his hidden affair brother named Silver a year ago and Red was having his first Christmas with his family after two years.

Red was sleeping off a cold and Ash had just coe charging into the living room. Livid and holding the same plastic orange bat from Green and Blues memory.

“What’cha got there bud?” Gold, a fucking year older then Ash himself, asked.

“Someone,” Ash was already nearly yelling as he glare sweeper through the room, thankfully Delia had left to go last minute Christmas shopping and left everyone to watch Ash, “destroyed my snowman with this!” He shock the bat in the air before letting it fa back down by his side, “and not the hole in its stomach is bright red!”

Blue scrambled up from her slouched position on the one person seat to look out the window at Ash’s actually destroyed and fake bloodied snowman with a large red hole in the middle and red flakes everywhere. “Well damn,” she muttered, “He’s right.”

“Well I know it’s no one in here.” Green didn’t look up from his phone. Texting Lance about his orientation of being Viridian’s new gym leader after Red had knocked that greasy Mankey Giovanni down.

The others muttered their agreement, which was a mistake, and Ash raised the bat to grip it with two hands and yelled “Red you big meanie! You killed my snowman!” And then went charging up the stairs to Reds room.

The other kids were left speechless and in shock before there was a familiar loud Thwak! Noise and then a angry shout before Ash’s scream of terror then the two brothers charging down the stairs.

Ash was only saved by certain death by the hands of Red because Red was only in a shirt and some shorts and also obviously still very sick.

———

It was September 30th, 2015, and Silver had gotten his hands on it this time around. No one really stopped him as he had pinned Gomd down and had beatened him over the head continuously for four minutes before throwing the Wiffleball bat down and storming into the house. Hiding himself in Ash’s unused room, who was in Orange Isles at the time, to scream wordlessly.

Red and Green just dipped their coffee while Blue stomped forward for her own piece.

[d-criss-news]

The skies overhead were gray, but for men on the Met Gala’s pink carpet, it was a gender-bending and spectacularly multi-hued celebration as the best men’s looks were anything but dull. If the guys in past years played somewhat second fiddle to the women’s fashion statements at the annual fundraiser for the museum, this year the “Camp” theme seemed designed to specifically foster male extravagance in almost every form.

There was Harry Styles in a Berlin-esque sheer black  from Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, who played ying to Styles’ yang, standing next to him in a welter of shocking pink silk bows. Pose actor Billy Porter didn’t walk like an Eqyptian but rather reclined like one, entering on a pallet held up by a crew of bare-chested boys, glittering in gold by Christian Siriano with a beaded headdress that rivaled anything Theda Bara wore in silent film epics.

Also wearing Gucci, actor and friend of the fashion house Jared Leto riffed on a moment from the fall-winter 2018 fashion show by accessorizing his red tunic dress with a matching mannequin likeness of his own bearded head. Benedict Cumberbatch looking a bit louche in his impeccable white suited (and hatted) best, a presumably campy look back at the days when England was a colonial power. 

Whether to tip toward the fey or the almost comically masculine was probably a dilemma for many of the male attendees, but actor Michael Urie split the difference in an ensemble that was half pinstriped suit, half a fluff of tulle, also courtesy of designer Siriano. In the best way, it underscored the spirit of the evening: why do men have to choose anyway?

Darren Criss

Criss glowed in his blazingly be-colored Balmain beaded jacket (that also seemed to recall ‘80s motifs of a certain other Italian designer, an allusion perhaps to his award-winning turn in The Assassination of Gianni Versace.) He took it to the next level by summoning New Wave London flamboyance with his blue eyeshadow and matching blue nail polish. 

[inkblotizzy]

Sin

In 1957 within Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany, Ezekiel Lamb entered into the world marked in rejection and shame. The unnatural silence of the child upon their birth only sated the superstitions of the mother, a woman so deeply religious that pregnancy had been possession and birth the expelling of an evil seed. The father was not known, or rather not recognized for dubious connection to the church; for the mother had in fact taken the vow a year prior at the age of sixteen. Sister Franziska had a suffering grasp on reality before entering the convent, one tampered with by the solicitous advances of her own father and the foul disregard of a knowing mother. She had believed desperately when the priest promised to rid her of her “evils,” her “sins.” To her, the infant result of this was merely the demons being driven from her physically. Ezekiel, named so by the nun midwives, was to be kept as an orphan to the convent under the close supervision of the church like a guarded stain on their legacy; one of too many in their history.

Sister Franziska was not to raise the child, and interaction between the two was in fact heavily avoided. This however was an impossible consistency to keep and soon the woman had become a horrifying specter in the memory of Ezekiel, a presence leering from the corridors and glimpsed betwixt the crack of a door in her private quarters. She was a shadow, a shape, a looming presence for which Ezekiel could not comprehend the reason for her haunting. Whispers through the halls between the other sisters carried with them a fearful gossip toward their Sister Franziska and the evil child; she carried the stigmata, the child was ill of mind, the sin could not be washed from him, the father was the true sufferer of his legion. Ezekiel’s silence since birth carried on through adolescence, the cold disposition upheld between them and the monastery was ever present and the discomfort toward their unspoken malignancy was palpable. Ezekiel was regarded first as an unwanted reminder of guilt; this strange, uncanny, staring, mute creature with a crown like sheep’s wool and eyes of blessed silver. They were the visage of something mocking the angelic, a cherub that could look into the eyes with such innocent malevolence that the nuns went about the sign of the cross when speaking their name at times.

Ezekiel left the convent at sixteen just as their mother had entered at that age, stepping into the world and taking with them that continuous vow of silence as they did. They observed life from afar, at the edges of a fuzzy vision distorting and morphing in front of them in a society brimming with new experiences and sensations abandoned within the cloister. Here that command of the superstitious however did not exist; truly Ezekiel was odd to those about but not so in the way that existed with the knowledge of that dark history and unclean descent. Now their manipulations came in the sheer mystery of them, the overpowering unknown that emanated from a cavernous internal nihility. Spoken only as an author of dark philosophies and distorted concepts of existentialism, Ezekiel had a firm hold on the lost generations and stragglers of humankind. It was never enough though, their existence was infinite vacuity; hell was a spiritual tar pit they could not rise from. It rendered their tongue stiff and still, it sent their mind careening over vast expanses of the fragility of humankind and the secret pull of something opaque and hungry.

They were twenty-four in 1981, living in Berlin and staring down the meaninglessness of their future upon a thin plane of reality. As bitter a silence as ever bore down on Ezekiel as they walked into a desolate forest, their car abandoned on an empty road and their trek for solitude taking them deep. The sharp teeth of winter reddened their nose and cheeks, a brilliant shade against the barrenness of their pale pallet. They walked with a calm intent to spill with greater vibrancy hot crimson over the snow. Ezekiel wished to face their mortality, to make it a tangible reality just to know it existed. They found instead mortality embodied. Tangled in a rash of thorns and brush was a body, lifeless and serene. Her black hair sprawled across the twisting mangle of thorn branches like a plume of feathers in the aftermath of a hunt; her skin tinged in the grey-blue shade of the frigid environment; her eyes laid open and jet beneath sharp and unusually neat bangs. There was an unspeakable morbidity that beckoned Ezekiel to the dead thing, something illimitable and grotesque. There was no finality there, only yawning eternity in the stillness of a permanent state. Ezekiel left the forest that night, they brought death with them like the crumpled game of a forbidden poaching in their arms. The silence of this action was perhaps better than any words that could not describe for the human any reasonability for it; nor for the tenderness with which they rested the vacant body on their table once returned home. There was such a severe jealousy for her, a curious coveting of her lifelessness eternal. Ezekiel studied the dead one a long time before resting that night.

It was such a soft sound at first, the shift of weight pressing down onto the bed beside Ezekiel; just behind them. The air about the form was chilled, the hands drifting up to hook with searing edge into the human’s chest like claws of ice.

“Prophet.” Her voice emitted no breath, yet it drifted weightless into sound.

Absolution, rapture, the embrace. Ezekiel was reborn, torn through the veil and tossed to sink into the ocean of ink that had marked them lifelong. The vow was broken and breathlessly as their sire they spoke; curses to god and to man, blessings of hell and of havoc, consent to the bidding of an eternal night.

Salvation

The freshly sired Entity was set upon the task of proving their will at the threat of absolute end in final death at the hands of the sire, Jezebel. They pulled upon their strengths with conviction, pouring into their philosophies and theories to form cults of mankind; small though with violent result. Ezekiel had become a sacrificial priest of a god yet to come, cleansed in darkness and promised to chaos. Carved into their flesh, embedded with an inky blackness from within were its words of faith; a painstaking process committed the night of the embrace. All that was unholy in Ezekiel as a human was now poured out upon the world like oil bubbling up from the earth, they were every superstition laid onto them and a vengeful Devil for it.

There were still yet gods to be conquered though; those all adorned in benediction and sealed away in their tombs of gold, clothed in the purity of their robes and impurity of hearts. Father Immanuel, the progenitor of that spiteful, angelic, monstrous thing rested well in power of the congregation through which Ezekiel’s upbringing left them exiled from all that could be hallowed and good. The nuns were at first dismissive when Ezekiel came to ask for confluence with the father, protecting even then the secrecy of his sins waged against the young sister Franziska twenty-some years prior. However when Jezebel requested the Father’s services in exorcizing that which had blackened the eyes of her Entity spawn an exception was made, the nuns having realized this was a matter of business and the secret perhaps still remained as it had been kept from Ezekiel religiously in their upbringing. There was a relief amongst the monastery, the comfort that the demons put into that orphan of Lucifer would finally be driven out, washed away; the torment of the sin would be forgotten for Father Emmanuel, so they thought. So they thought.

The exorcism was a harsh affair at the very least for Ezekiel, an Entity of spiritual bane. A willing torture, a means to an end as that dormant evil played along with the Father. It was of course a mockery, a trap to bind Father Emmanuel with the false hope that through this act he could save his soul from the bastard offspring’s stain of lineage. Upon the assumed final hour of the exorcism Jezebel stepped in for the kill, crucifying the priest alongside her Entity. Like an unholy sacrifice to the shadows, a darkness was pulled over the monastery that night. Sister Franziska wandered the halls and rambled of hell on earth, the faith was lost within those walls, the bell tower was left silent on the hour to ring no more. In the wake of the Lasombra pair there was a putrefying stillness about the place. Ezekiel had proven themself worthy in the birthright of the new god for another night.

[rivaltimes]

Alvarez Pallete: "Europe urgently needs strategic autonomy to overcome the current serious crisis"

Alvarez Pallete: “Europe urgently needs strategic autonomy to overcome the current serious crisis”

File – The president of Telefonica, Jose Maria Alvarez-Pallete, in a file image. – Alex Zea – Europa Press – Archive MADRID, Oct. 18 (EUROPA PRESS) – The executive president of Telefonica, Jose Maria Alvarez-Pallete, has analyzed this Tuesday during the German Hispanic Forum, which is being held in Berlin, the challenges of this new digital era and has assured that Europe “urgently” needs to…

[logicallogistics]

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[eladrins]

rose petals, widden palets

280g of rose petals: What beauty did you notice today?

- I saw a cute elderly couple getting their shopping together which made me smile. A lady at work was leaving to go work at a new job and everyone got her a really nice card and flowers and a candle.

4 wooden pallets: if you could move anywhere, where to? and why

- The answer to this changes depending on my mood tbh. Though its generally always somewhere in Europe. Sometimes I think about moving to rural france and living in a wee town with a french husband who keeps a garden. Sometimes I think about moving to Berlin and starting a new life there where no-one knows my past. More realistically i’d like to move to glasgow at some point in the next five years, I think there’s more scope for me being less miserable there.

[earaercircular]

SEB gives a second life to its household appliances

The French appliance manufacturer SEB is currently testing the sale of refurbished products in a joint effort by its Alençon site, RepareSeb and Back Market. And continues to recruit at its locations in the West of France.

“Our first pallet of reconditioned products offered for sale in our factory outlet in Alençon was sold very quickly, ” said Alain Pautrot, consumer satisfaction director of the SEB group[1]. The latter has been testing for several weeks the reconditioning of some of their household appliances: vacuum cleaner, kitchen companion, steam generator, coffee grinder but also fryer or microwave.

“We know that customers expect these offers, but we also have to find our solutions to ensure this refurbishment work and the logistics that go with it.” The products concerned had a very short first life. Not even a month for some. “ They come back to us within a month because there was a breakdown when it was put in operation.” This also concerns products still in packaging returned by customers who have changed their mind after their purchase "but which cannot be reintegrated into our sales channels in this way."

A test with Back Market and the Alençon factory store

It is the Alençon site[2], that brings together the national after-sales service, logistics for direct in-house sales and a factory outlet, which will receive all these products outside the sales circuit. From there, depending on the level of repair to be carried out, the products go to the Paris workshop, RepareSeb, that currently has seven staff members within this company that is fit for the job, "but which will quickly increase to thirty".

SEB has also chosen to launch this initiative with the Back Market platform[3], known for the reconditioning of smartphones and computers: “In August, we will have an official SEB store (on the Back Market site) where our first reconditioned product will be on sale.” Other brands like Thermomix or Dyson have entered the target group.

The industrial group, through its investment subsidiary SEB Alliance, has acquired stakes in the Daphni investment fund[4], a historical shareholder of Back Market. SEB will focus, for this test, on three strong brands of the group: Rowenta, Tefal and Moulinex.

The discounts will range from 10 to 30% compared to the new price. “There will be three levels of reconditioning: like new, very good condition or good condition”, adds Alain Pautrot.

More than fifty recruitments in the West of France

While the manufacturer has just published its results and sees its turnover for the first half of 2021 to reach 3.61 billion €, up 23.9%, the group is also announcing recruitments at its three industrial sites in the West of France.

In Mayenne (460 staff members)[5], where SEB produces food processors, blenders, or coffee makers for the Moulinex and Krups brands, he is looking for seventeen people. In Vernon, Eure, (220 staff members)[6], for the manufacture of Rowenta vacuum cleaners, eighteen profiles are linked to development, quality and marketing. And in Saint-Lô (100 staff members)[7], for electronic components dedicated to products manufactured in Mayenne, the group is looking for eight engineering positions.

Source

Elisabeth Montaufray, Alençon. Seb donne une seconde vie à ses produits électroménagers. in : Ouest France, 23/7/2021, https://www.ouest-france.fr/economie/entreprises/alencon-seb-donne-une-seconde-vie-a-ses-produits-electromenagers-cb2411ec-ebb6-11eb-86fd-b30370d18cf3

[1] https://www.groupeseb.com/en/groupe-seb-brief Groupe SEB (Société d'Emboutissage de Bourgogne) is a large French consortium that produces small appliances like microwave ovens, toasters, humidifiers, food processors and coffeemakers, and it's the world's largest manufacturer of cookware. Notable brand names associated with Groupe SEB include All-Clad, IMUSA, Krups, Moulinex, Rowenta, Tefal (including OBH Nordica) and WMF Group. Its headquarters are in Ecully, a Lyon suburb. [2] Alençon is a municipality in Normandy, France, capital of the Orne department. It is situated 173 kilometres (107 mi) west of Paris. Alençon belongs to the intercommunality of Alençon (with 52,000 people). [3] https://www.backmarket.com/ Back Market or Jung SAS is a French e-commerce company, created in 2014, which acts as an intermediary between individuals and professionals in the reconditioning of electrical and electronic devices. It has offices in Paris, Bordeaux, New York, Berlin and, in 2021, has 480 employees. [4] https://daphni.com/ Daphni is a venture capital fund manager founded in 2015 by Marie Ekeland, Pierre-Eric Leibovici and Pierre-Yves Meerschman. It invests in European tech start-ups with strong international ambitions through three investment vehicles, Daphni Purple, Jaïna Capital, and Daphni Yellow. [5] Mayenne is a municipality in the Mayenne department in north-western France. It is a sub-prefecture of the department. The Mayenne department is part of the current French region of Pays de la Loire [6] Vernon is a municipality in the French department of Eure, administrative region of Normandy, northern France. [7] Saint-Lô is a municipality in north-western France, the capital of the Manche department in the region of Normandy.

[jwterm1project]

Architecture Research (Ben Kaften/Viktor Timofeev)

These artist are the inspiration for the architecture workshop. Both artist have very interesting works with the same niche and concepts yet portray it in different ways. 

I would say that Ben Kafton is more similar to the work that we produced than Timofeev’s work from the way we started to the end product produced in photoshop.

Viktor Timofeev-

Viktor Timofeev was born in Riga, Latvia and studied at Hunter College in New York USA where he is now based and works from. He has many exhibitions all over the world from London to Berlin and is widely known for the work he produces.

The architectural work that you can see below are prime examples of the things that he makes. I would say that he implements some illusions into his work which makes it special such as the bottom one with the stair and ladder looking work going into one another.

Timofeev works with a lot of tone and contrast in his work and also tends to only use monochrome shades whereas in Ben Kafton’s work he uses a splash of colour to highlight. The shading is very important in his type of work because it it what really defines his work and makes it different from the rest of the artists in the genre. 

Timofeev’s work includes a lot of geometric shapes shown above and also below in the clouds. The shapes also tend to be shaded in a dark tone to show off the contrast and elevate the level of texture on the work.

Some of his work such as the one pointed out below are more detailed that the line work above. This is coming away from what we did in college but still in the same lines of that we made. Architectural art can be shown in many ways shown here today in both of these artists. The amount of detail and  shading in this work is insane compared to our work and also Kaftons. This shows the pure divide of techniques art art can be shown and appreciated from

Ben Kafton- (Below Work)

Ben Kafton age 20, taken a few college course in art and design most of his art in architectural and includes diagrams. He is based at the moment in Utah in a small town in the north.

The majority of Kraftons is print making as you can see in the work below. His work looks very intriguing and complex yet using a very minimal pallet of colours and techniques.

Krafton tends to use one solid colour in his work along with monochrome shades. By only using one main solid colour (including different shades of that colour) he is able to highlight parts of the work that may get lost in the the depths of the work if it wasn't filled in.

Kraftons work is similar to what we had made on campus. But can be varied in what he makes. The two art works above are extremely similar but slightly different due to the fact that the one on the left one is two dimensional and the right work is three dimensional. The 3D work on the left is like what we made in the 9 boxes and also when we digitalised it in photoshop to make the collage with the block colour. (That is shown in another thread).

The work on the right is a little less refined and detailed. It's s made purely on depth of line and the thickness of the line. It also includes the block colour just like the rest of the work.

[logicallogistics]

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[je-suis-clarisse]

Capture (Part 4)

1944. A few phone calls had gotten Peggy Carter precisely what she wanted. One Payne Z. Queen on the other end of the other end of the line. "Mr. Queen, my name is Agent Margaret Carter of the SSR. We have a mutual aquaintance, in one Clarisse du Volde," she began. The sound of bombs in the background didn't even phase her. She was used to it, as tired of it as she was. She was busy with Rogers and Captain Phillips, but this was important too. She kept in touch with the nurses whom Clarisse had been working with, telling them that if the vampire turned back up to let her know or if she happened to get any mail--anything of importance. This request was more fruitful; a pile of unopened letters had arrived and was sitting on her desk, each with 'urgent' written on the front. It was clearly from someone on the Front, given the fact that the envelope was slightly beaten up and dirty. Respecting Clarisse's privacy, Peggy didn't open every one, since it was clear they were from the same person. She only opened one and it had begun 'Kitten, I'm worried about you. I haven't heard from you in months. Are you angry with me? You made me promise I'd write you daily, but you've been silent. Were you wounded? Were you sent home? I need to know that you're alright, Clarisse...' She hadn't read further, not wanting to intrude on her privacy, but Peggy had done the research and found this Payne Queen. It had taken some work on her part, but she'd managed to arrange for a phone call when they reached a town for a bit of respite. Granted, judging by the sounds in the background, that was not happening. Payne sounded exhausted and uncertain of the woman on the line, but she wasn't sure how to put him at ease. There really wasn't a way to do so. As she had done with Elijah, Peggy decided to simply be upfront. Honesty went a long way. "I have news for you...though I would prefer to tell you face to face, that seems impossible right now." "Go ahead, Agent," came the reply. "Your ladyfriend has been captured by the Germans. " "Fucking son of a bi--...I'm sorry, ma'am." Peggy proceeded to dismiss the apology as unnecessary, explaining all of what Elijah had been able to garner before discovering that another facility was holding his wayward brother Niklaus. Knowing Payne existed, firstly, put her at ease as she knew that there would be someone to look for Clarisse. Elijah was obviously concerned, but he knew just as well as anyone, that Clarisse was not a weakling and she would survive somehow. The same could be said of his brother, but she supposed blood was thicker than water--Clarisse wasn't actually blood. "Carter, do you know where she is precisely?" "I cannot say that I do. They keep moving to throw us off their trail, the last I heard was somewhere in Berlin, or just outside of it. I must warn you, that there is always the possibility that she--" "You don't have to tell me, ma'am. But since you know her too...then you know she won't give up easily." "I've pulled some strings...and I managed to get you two weeks furlough..." Peggy let her voice trail off, her meaning clear. She'd gotten him two weeks to go find his lady. She didn't tell him that Clarisse had done a bit of spying for the SSR--a nurse could do a great deal when all manner of soldiers came into the hospitals. Simply wished him the best and told him that if he needed her assistance, she would do what she could. 1944. Berlin. Waking up in her cell, Clarisse was disoriented. The day prior, she had been once again subjected to the sun and burning. She had managed to kill two of the guards when she screamed; the high pitch of her scream piercing their eardrums. She didn't regret it. They'd been especially cruel to those in their charge. She had witnessed them putting salt in the wounds of two werewolves who had been subjected to torture. Seeing them hit the floor with blood flowing from their ears and their faces frozen with agony written across their features had provided her with a touch of glee that she'd not felt in weeks. Her body throbbed. She remained on the pallet on the floor, in the corner, hoping that they would leave her alone today. Her eye was bruised and her lip bloodied. The lack of blood made her slower to heal and she was miserable. She didn't even look at herself in the filthy pane of glass that they called a mirror, knowing full well that she looked ghastly. Yet..she wouldn't give in. Lost in her reverie, she thought of Payne; fingers brushing over her locket. She could almost remember his voice if she thought hard enough. And of his touch...what she wouldn't give to feel his arms around her right now! That silly moment at the train platform replayed in her mind, making her smile. If only she knew where he was. She thought of Elijah and Damon, Peggy, and Howard. Friends and family. Yet, there was a touch of bitterness--she had thought Elijah would have come for her. Not a stupid woman, she knew that he probably had gotten distracted and was on the hunt for his siblings. She'd have to get herself out of here. Herself and the others here. She'd allowed herself to listen to the thoughts of those surrounding her and had found there were twenty others. Ten had died. Even when they were torturing her, she refused to tell them anything. They wanted to know how to turn Hitler and how to make an army of vampires to help them turn the tide of war. They'd given him her blood, but with a taste, it did nothing. There was the process of turning someone and none of the other vampires and herself would give up the secret. As to the wolves, they didn't seem to be giving up their secrets either. In hopes of forcing her to talk, they had pulled her toenails out. They had threatened to yank her tongue out. They'd subjected her to some old fashioned torture devices, such as the rack. Her body had been subjected to all manner of torture, to see if she'd break. They underestimated her--Clarisse refused. Despite her desire to break, her agony, she still gave nothing. They'd burned her, using the sun and cackling as she refused to give in. Every bone in her hands had been broken, she was beaten, and were it not out of fear of her teeth and nails, she knew that some of the guards had a few other ideas. They had many horrid methods, and Silas had been subjected to methods of torture that she was truly surprised hadn't killed him. They'd done research on hypothermia on him, which was horrible. He was a wolf--his body temperature was hotter than most, and then they'd put him in freezing water for hours, trying to bring his temperature down. Then they'd put him into exceedingly hot water to bring it back up, to see what they could learn. It was a wonder to Clarisse, that the gentle giant of a wolf was still alive, considering how many times they'd done it to him. One of the favorites used upon them both was hanging them by their hands behind their backs until their shoulders were out of joint. Risse had gotten quite good at popping Silas' shoulders back into place; she had done it on the battlefield before, this wasn't all that different. She had talked him through it and he had done the same for her. She was rather certain that without the other supporting them, they'd die. But her determination to get them out was quite overwhelming. As she lay on her pallet, her eyes closed, she thought of the format of the place. They had moved them around about three weeks ago and she'd committed it to memory. It was one floor, but quite large. There was a section for the laboratory, another for vampires, another for wolves. They'd had witches but realising magical ability was something that they were born with, they stopped collecting them. There were some other rooms that as far as she could tell, were empty or just not used. Two were rooms with bunkbeds within them for the guards and one was a kitchen, where meals were prepared. Not that she cared too much for that. She had begun to give Silas her meals since they were useless for her. What she needed was blood. She was running low on her vials. Dozing off, she woke up when Silas called her name out. Two people were heading in towards them. One was a woman, the other was an officer she had never seen before. Clarisse rolled her eyes before closing them again. The keys in the lock of her cell agitated her and had she the energy, she would have burnt them. What she wanted was blood. But since that wasn't an option--it was going to be sleep. She screeched as the male grabbed her arm and he recoiled, noticing the burns. Pushing the woman forward as he stepped out, he spoke. "Drink, Fraulein. You are going to meet a special guest today." Snorting, Clarisse ignored him but when the scent of blood filled her senses, she felt the prick of her fangs against her bottom lip. She resisted but the young woman cut her own wrist and it was nature that answered. Two slow steps and the woman was in her arms...and a few moments later, she was dead on the floor. Clarisse took a moment to breathe, her body healed and she felt the best she had in ages. The Officer handed her a clean dress and took the body of the young woman, dragging it somewhere as the vampire changed into the fresh dress and did her hair. Looking over at Silas, she winked before stepping out of her cell, following the Officer as he led her down the hallways. It felt strange to be in control of herself. The only thing that looked off about her was that her face still bore the marks of the soldier who had hit her the day prior. Continuing to walk with him, they paused at a door and he knocked, opening it for her and letting her in before joining them for a moment. "Fraulein du Volde, this is Hauptsturmführer Ernst Gottlieb Schwarzkopf." The Officer spoke and Clarisse stood her ground, looking him over. He had a look of irritation on his features as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. The feeling was entirely mutual, she had to say. "You can go, Jakob," Schwarzkopf told the lower-ranking man. Leaving them alone in the room, the male rose and approached her. He was an intimidating figure, standing at least 6'5 and was in excellent shape. His blue eyes were most the piercing that she had ever seen, yet still, she said nothing. His finger traced along her jawline and she could feel her stomach flipflop. It took all of her good sense not to knock him down or slap him as he touched her without consent. His finger went down to her locket and she stepped back before he could touch it again. It was the only thing of hers that she had still and she'd be damned if this Nazi bastard took it from her. "You could end your suffering," he began in German before switching to English and approaching her again. "This would go so much easier for you if you would simply tell us how to change the Führer. Let us give him eternal life. Let history remember you for your contribution to the Third Reich." His face lit up with hope as he looked her over, eyes drinking her in. "Your face could be in history books. On stage. On posters. You'd be revered as a heroine. Is this not something you wish for? Redemption!" He raised her face up, cupping her cheeks and she winced; pulling away. "You don't need my blood for that," Clarisse countered finally. "Your Führer has achieved immortality. Every time his name is spoken, it will taste of the bitterest root and people will remember what a monster and scourge he is." Once again, she felt the sting of being backhanded and she hit the floor. He was the one at a disadvantage now. Having let her feed, Clarisse was at her full strength. Standing up again, her eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid, you'll regret that," she hissed, charging towards him, grabbing his knife as she tackled him. He didn't even notice at first as he drew his pistol, shooting several rounds at her. She hissed as one went through her right shoulder, another through her abdomen, and one embedded itself into her left shoulder. Clarisse growled and hissed, praying her aim was true as she threw the blade at him. She hoped, despite the pain, she would throw hard enough to pierce his heart. "How did you--" He asked, bewildered as the knife hit precisely where she hoped. "I had a good teacher," she responded as he sank to his knees. It took but a second for Clarisse to get behind him and to sink her fangs into his throat. His blood was rich and hot, strong. She supposed there was a perk to the Nazi's obsession with living healthy--it made them taste divine. As his heart began to slow, she punched through his chest, pulling the organ out. It had been years since she had felt a still-beating heart in her grasp. Veins roped around her slender wrist, forming a new bracelet and she tossed it aside carelessly. Taking his knives--he had several--and the keys to the rooms, Clarisse walked out into the hallway. Her escort was standing at the doorway and stared at her horrified. "I'm giving you a choice. You can die like your boss or you can help me," Clarisse spoke in German. The young man paused before nodding. "I need a uniform. And if anyone objects to this takeover--shoot them." She demanded, waiting for him to do her bidding. Once he arrived back, she changed out of the dress into the uniform. She felt physically ill as she put it on, but she wasn't staying another night in this hellhole. Heading for the room where she and Silas had been kept first, Clarisse walked in. The wolf glared at her, his eyes glowing in the dim light. "It's me. We're leaving." She assured him, unlocking his cell and then heading to another room and opening the cells and repeating the motion. Of course, it was never so easy as that. A truckload of soldiers arrived to relieve those within the walls of the compound. Seeing their prisoners escaping was not the way they expected to be greeted. Looking to the wolves, Clarisse met their gazes, nodding. She didn't know what languages they spoke, but she was quite delighted to see them shift into their true forms and to end the lives of their captors. The sound of skin being torn to shreds, of bones being broken and the screams made for a beautiful symphony of horror--and Clarisse for once, welcomed the cacophony.