#Tim: Yeah? and I have plans on how to counteract his plans

[morganbritton132]

Green Lantern: If Batman already said you can’t have access to these files, why are you asking me?

Robin: Batman isn’t the boss of you

Green Lantern:

Green Lantern: You do know that he has plans on how to kill all of us, right?

[sebeth]

Batman #488

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 Batman #488 by Doug Moench and Jim Aparo.

 We open with Bruce and Tim in the Batcave.  Bruce is filling Tim in on Azrael:

“He’s called Azrael – ‘Avenging Angel’ for the secret Order of St. Dumas – although he wasn’t even aware of it until just recently.  He’s been mind-programmed since he was a child – a technique called ‘The System’ – knowledge, skills, and abilities have been seeded below the surface of his consciousness.  Hypnosis brought some of it to the fore – and specific circumstances seem to break other memory blocks.  I know from first-hand experience how abruptly new skills become available to him. Until recently, he was nothing more than a graduate student in computer science at Gotham University.”

A succinct recap for readers who didn’t pick up the Sword of Azrael mini-series.

Bruce asks Lucius to give Jean-Paul Valley a job in the Wayne Corp Security Force.

Bruce tells Tim that he is to show Jean-Paul the “real ropes”.

Bruce’s request shows his trust in Tim.  Tim is fairly new to the super-hero life himself – he’s been active for approximately a year at this point – mostly in training but Bruce has faith that Tim can guide Jean-Paul.

“Azrael is already a formidable entity, his prowess and abilities only increasing.  Soon, he could become a dangerous entity…He’s been programmed to kill.”

“So we’re taking him under our wing to counteract his brainwashing programming?”

“Something like that. Call it an attempt…to guide and mold him…more naturally.”

Bruce staggers up the Cave stairs to rest while Tim prepares to train Jean-Paul.

Jean-Paul reports to Wayne Enterprises in the morning.  He is assigned monitor duty on the photocopy machines.  

“You maintain security on the xeroxes?”

“Easier than strip-searching everyone at the gate.”

Security is serious business at Wayne Enterprises!

Alfred attempts to feed Bruce breakfast but is told he’s “too tired to eat anyway.”

You still eat Bruce!  Food is one of the essential ways to regain strength and energy.

Tim surprises Jean-Paul in his apartment.  Jean-Paul is confused over a kid being in charge of his training.  He expected Batman.

“You want the mantle of the Bat, man, you gotta earn it – and believe me, I oughtta know.  In the meantime, I’ll just have to do.”

“You…you’re Robin?”

“Yeah, I know, the legend looms a lot larger than my shoe size.”

Tim is so sassy in the issues leading up to Knightfall.

Bruce attempts, but fails, to find comfort in meditation.

Tim presents Jean-Paul with the costume he designed.  It looks very similar to Metalhead minus the spikes.

Tim insists he’s “kinda proud” of the design.  I maintain Tim’s pranking Jean-Paul with the costume.

Tim briefs Jean-Paul on the features of the costume: “Fifteen-layer Kevlar sheathed in fire-resistant nomex-four fabric, utility pods for tracking device, radio scanners, poison antidotes, food concentrates, three-minute air supply, fingerprint powder, mini-telescope, smoke pellets, flotation pods, and an auto-retractable grapnel and line, triggered by a button concealed in the palm of the glove.”

The lesson plans for the night are “lockpicking one-oh-one” and “rooftop surveillance.”

The duo trail Tony Chekko, a Wayne Enterprise employee that has hooked up with the Skulls, a biker gang.

Tony and the Skulls head to WayneTech.

Tim attempts to herd Azrael in the confrontation with the Skulls but Jean-Paul quickly breaks ranks.

“And Batman says I’m the impetuous one.”

Jean-Paul apologizes: “Forgive me for jumping the gun like that.  Until it was happening, I didn’t know I was going to do it…didn’t know I could do it.”

Tim responds “The System…but still out of control…The worst thing to be in a situation like that. We’ll work on it.  Maybe hypnosis.  Unlock everything in your mind – get a handle on all of it.”

Bruce contacts Dr. Shondra Kinsolving stating that he’s “been referred by Tim Drake.”

Bruce mentions he’s suffering severe symptoms of fatigue, exhaustion, and burn-out.

Bruce only cameos in this issue – he appears in only 2 or so pages.  

A great issue for Tim fans – he’s bossy, sassy, and the only adult in the room.

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

I think it would depend very heavily on timelines and the willingness of the Darling.

For things to go in Andre's favor:

He would probably need to know who exactly he's going against really early on. So he'd need to know the secret identities of Batman and all the Robins (not the most difficult thing ever, since a teenage Tim Drake figured it out).

Ideally, the batfam wouldn't even realize that Andre is there until he's already kidnapped their darling.

If the reader was smart, they could probably leave clues behind as to where they're going. Andre would need to counteract that.

Andre would need to remove all of the tracking devices that the Batfam has probably put on their Darlings items without their knowledge.

Batman could probably call in a favor from other heroes once they realize that their Darling is missing. It really depends on how quickly they can realize that their Darling is gone, and if they have any clue as to where they could be. Trying to take a plane overseas? Good luck, Superman can fly. Boat? Aquaman.

Conversly, Andre could call in favors from other groups- orchestrate a distraction, perhaps cause problems with the technology in the area, so on- but that would leave more of a trace as to where they've been. Also Jason has manipulated gang wars in the past, which gives him an upper hand.

And for their darling to NEVER be found? I think that might be nearly impossible. If they manage to figure out Andre is a target, they'd only have to find a face. Their Darling only has to show up ONCE to be tracked down, Andre too in some cases. I don't think Andre could live completely off the grid- especially not if his Darling is being resistant. So he'd need to be completely independent from civilization- at least to the extent that no one could track him down for being suspicious.

Otherwise, Andre's best hope would probably be to team up with multiple villains. Batman might have a lot of allies, but he also has a lot of enemies. Anything to extend the time between when he kidnaps his Darling to when the Batfam realizes they're gone would be a huge bonus. It wouldn't be easy, but with enough villains (Like, most of them?) it might be possible. If all of the batfam gets murdered, there's no way they can get their darling.

But yeah, Batfam has a big upper hand here, more and more of one depending on how much the batfam is watching their Darling.

If Darling is already being watched closely by the batfam, there's not really any way for them not to notice Andre- and they'd "save" you from him.

If Darling is already in the manor, there's no way Andre could win. Against Alfred? Impossible. Maybe a very smart Darling could figure out a way to commmunicate with Andre online, and Andre could try and act as their savior. But then again, try keeping a secret inside of the Wayne Manor. Next to impossible. Plus it relies on Darling being socailly skilled enough to hide their intentions from Batfam, but not enough to pick out Andre's motives.

Technically there could be a freedom ending then: Darling uses Andre to get out of the manor, kills them using combat skills they learned from the Batfam, and runs using whatever plan Andre had for their Darling. It's a slim chance, but it could work.

Batsis is kidnapped by Andre. Now it’s batfam v. Andre, who’s winning?

Ooohahaha awesome question.

It’s a tough call! It’s super easy to say that Batfam would win due to their brilliant detective skills and unlimited resources. But it’s also surprisingly easy to just… disappear.

If Andre knew what he was getting into, then he would liquidate his assets before vanishing with Batsis. Kind of hard to track someone who peace fades to South America and only pays with cash. Especially if he retires from the internet.

Batfam would 100% pack up and move to wherever their latest lead is. It would be super challenging for Andre to never show his face to anyone, but he might pull it off.

It would boil down to pure luck, I think.

What are your thoughts?

[scribbling-scribbles]

Main Story Outline

Black and White (working title)

Part I- Will joins the Black court (White Court)

Who's Red

meeting

remember? Backstory (kinda)

what is the white court? What do you do? 

This is abuse. I'm getting you out

I get you have a skewed perspective, but, really!

you don't need to be anyone's soldier

you sold your SOUL?!

Okay, how can we do this? It's time for research! 

Introduce Glass Mask sub-plot

A powerful artifact and semi-sentient, produced as the universe’s counter to magic.

Will is intrigued, but ultimately decides the mask would be too dangerous to use.

At some point, Will dips into more magical sources, either on purpose or by accident, and one of the Black Lady’s servants comes to confront him.

A method! Let us execute it!

The Board and the Rites

Preparing

Finding. The damn. Contracts.

Start the Rites

Crap!

Attack! (Battle of the Board)(that's as far as they get before they are caught. The Board has some very powerful magical significance, though, and is usually where part of the contract-making process occurs)

Will sells his soul, and regains some memories.

Part II- Will and Red re-align and plan (Black Court)

Introduction to the court

Infinite apartment building, from a modification on the standard infinite forest. As far as human members are concerned, exits only lead to the Board, the Market, and various points in the human world. These exits are arrayed around the building, almost seeming at random, but there is a pattern somewhere. There is a time dilation, but not a large or consistent one. Like +/- 1 day.

The Black Lady, her rules and ruling

The court and the developers

It appears I need a new name.

Who are you guys? What are we doing

Time passes

Will/Tim befriends the developers and other members of the court

Angst and sweetness with Joe/ Volto

Any’s mech, a subplot 

Movie night!

Damn, the Game’s sound kind of even more horrible than I thought.

The Basement, i.e. the torture chamber for Bad Courtiers (maybe run by Steve? Maybe Steve is constantly tortured? Steve is involved)

Tim does R&D

Let’s all go to the Market!

Continuation of the Glass Mask sub-plot

I have modified some cool magic based off of physics because gODDAMNIT, science works!

Tim is slightly obsessed with incorporating iron into anything possible. Iron salts are his new best friend. 

Tim and Red (Rose) meet (again)

So I was hoping you would still remember me? No? Well s hit.

Timur should have expected it sooner.

I’m not a Black mage. I just wanted us to be clear on that. I am a developer, there is a difference, I'm not on the board.

I didn't give my whole name. This should give me a bit more leeway in my obedience. I still can't outright harm, but neglect and sedition is much easier than it would have been.

We're friends. I mean, I forgot, now you've forgotten... It's complicated.

We had a plan. Not a good one, but it existed.

No, really, they're evil, I swear

Tim becomes a piece.

Fuck.

After first game

Will and Taylor team up

We are looking for leads a bit deeper in Faerieland and oH SHOOT WE'VE BEEN ATTACKED, but Tim saves the day.

Emma shows up

The hell are you doing here?!/ Nerd?! // What the hell, you remember me?/ What the hell, you're real?

New recruits came all the time 

Some more dialogue

"I sold it," Tim said

Some more dialogue

"What did you trade?"

Tim explains what he can/ is willing to.

Emma’s side of it

“I was pretty sure I remembered you, but there was no official documents proving you existed, so that messed me up for a while.”

“Then I decided ‘screw that’ and went to find you anyway.”

There was a sound like discordant wind chimes.

“What you thought I found you all by myself? Heck no, I got help.”

Team includes Stacy (phone friend), a couple other of

Emma’s friends, and Peter, Will’s friend who no longer remembers him.

No one has official connections to either Court except Emma.

(Huh) says Tim (A team sounds like a good idea. Maybe I should look into that)

“And they… believe you?” “Kinda? Some of them do at least. Peter thinks its a government cover up.”

"Well. Hmm. Can I bring my baby sister into this crazy plan?”

Debate

Some internal debate.

Some debate with Red.

Verdict: Hell No.

A nightmare

Part III- A better and more viable plan, i.e. let's do a revolution. (Gray Gang)

Guess who wants to get involved? That’s right, it’s Emma.

“No.” says Tim.

Spectrum

Who are they?

(Was Ash)- royal self-aligned (ineligible for throne) pansexual non binary (genderfluid) (Prince, but non binary, thanks.)

Oh, you didn’t know this is just about succession? Wait, you thought this was about Unseelie and Seelie? Dudes, no.

Someone contaminated me. See the wings? Blue, means I'm impure, unfit to rule. 

Also, I'm like, way younger.

What will they do for us?

Legitimate heir to the throne, could challenge their sisters and demand the freedom of all the Bonded.

“I mean, I don't really feel like doing anything, but if you've got something to offer…”

“What do you want?” “I'm loooonely, be my friend.” “Oh, sure.”

Also, say Spectrum, to themself, That is a very cute boy right there and I want to seduce him.

This will not work. At all.

The Gray gang 

Emma has weedled her way into this mission.

Does not bring her group, but is in contact with them.

They try to see if they can do anything more mundane for them.

What are you?

Support group for ex-courtiers.

Made of both Black and White.

The Ones That Got Out Too Late

Courtiers who were only able to escape after they had lost a significant portion of humanity. They cannot rejoin human society.

Headed (loosely) by two who joined back in the middle ages or earlier, one from each court, they got immortality, and have honestly lived long enough at this point and soaked up enough ambient magic that they are two thirds of the way to fae already. This would worry them, if they weren’t already beyond the point of caring about pretty much anything.

Umber

Black

Original deal was for immortality, but boy do they regret that now.

Lux

White

They are one of the very few Old Whites, since humans in the White Court tend to lose their humanity through weird, magical osmosis, and the iron in their own blood starts to poison them. The ones who survived made some kind of deal to counteract that.

The Ones That Got Out With Nothing

What it says on the tin

Identity erased, no family, no money, nothing.

Maybe a boon, but it’s a pretty useless one now.

The Ones That Got Out With Trauma

May or may not have returned to family.

But how do you explain that for a while you were a soldier in a war of immortal, amoral beings?

Maybe you killed for them, and if you did, what does that make you?

Maybe you made weapons, and does that make you as bad as a killer?

Who knows! These are not fun questions!

Magic addiction is totally a thing, and very hard to satisfy unless you were born naturally gifted.

Operate under the radar

Apparently, they've been around a while.

Boy, we could have used you in part one.

Yeah, well, we've been trying to keep a low profile. You are not at all low profile.

“Touché, but what is your plan?” “Help the people who actually get out.”

New idea: what if you teamed up with us and help stage a revolution?

Hell no.

We do have this semi-legitimate heir to the throne to utilize?

No, that's worse, we're not working for THEM anymore.

Well, you wouldn't be working for Spec either, they just make the thing binding.

(Also) says Tim to himself, (Glass Mask backup plan)

Fine, I guess.

Hey, Spec, guess what!

Oh sweet, says Spec, also, did some looking, turns out there is a not unsmall faction of fae who also do not like this system.

Hell yes

Turns out they have a similarish set up on my side.

It’s Maren and Mark.

Hell yes

Part IV- Now that we’ve decided to do this thing, let’s do some awesome prep work (my favorite part) and then FIGHT! (Red Army)

Strategy/ inspiring speech montage (best part),

Tim, Red, Emma, and some of her crew hang with the Gray Gang with more frequency.

Tim is a good big picture/big plan guy, but Red is where we really get strategy.

The breakdown goes like this: Tim: Here is a goal/ step that needs to be accomplished Spec: Here are some ways to do that and their cost/benefits. Red: Here is which one is most tactically sound, given out resources and position. GG/Em Folks: Here is what you need to do that, let's go!

Tim is able to recruit some folks from the Black Court, those who do not have very constricting contracts, or those that can leave, or those that find loopholes.

Somehow, the Ladies find out about the planned rebellion and the Gang base is attacked.

The base is attacked by fae soldiers and/or loyal bonded humans

Short scuffle where some folks including Tim fight as a diversion while others make an escape route and flee to an inbetween.

Tim gets stabbed.

Shoot! (Hey look, other allies, namely, Jo)

But hey, we have someone who can help!

Really? Say Red and Emma and Spec and any defectors and probably a bunch of GG folks as well.

Yeah, say a small group, now looking slightly sheepish, uh, their name is Jo.

JO!

Bit of their back story, probably starting with “Jo never realized the dangers of lending milk money to strange teenagers…”

Recoup

Hey, Spec, can we stage the final battle yet? We’re asking you ‘cause Tim’s unconscious. 

I mean, we wanted to wait until May (or November?) Day? Because of magical significance? That’s not too far off at this point.

Okay, so we need to hold out just a bit longer.

Tim wakes up and he is maaaaad…

He actually seems just a wee bit crazy right now

Like, instead of being ruthless but clean, now he’s plans almost seem, sloppy.

“Okay, so we do this and this...” “Tim, we can’t do both of those things at once for some reason you should really know and may have actually pointed out to us at some point.” “Ah, so we can’t, well-”

He is TERRIFIED and FURIOUS, and that is not the mood you want your teenager general to be in.

This whole time, there have been continuous small strikes at any GG/ defector/ fae ally groups that are out in the open.

Like, any time they need to get food, or when trying to communicate between mortal and fae side groups

One of these missions is headed by some of the fae side operatives, and results in the destruction of a few select contracts, including Red's.

This is not helping anyone, but it is especially not helping Tim.

He feels trapped, like everything is closing in on him.

Hey, Tim, you good?

The other folks are genuinely a bit worried about him now, because this does not seem like him at all

Oops, we lose Tim.

Tim is part of a group attacked by adversaries.

He was probably not supposed to be part of this group because he is recOVERING FROM A STAB WOUND and cannot fight or defend against any members of the Black Court.

Honestly, though, this almost feels like relief, ‘cause some of these folks are definitely Whites and this is SOMETHING as opposed to however long he’s been cooped up doing nothing but planning.

Tim is not typically a man of action, but anticipation gets to even him.

Either just Tim gets taken while providing cover for the rest (look, it’s easy to sacrifice theoretical soldiers, but it’s much harder to abandon the friends in front of you), or the whole group gets taken ‘cause Tim tried to abandon them, or just Tim gets taken for the same reason. (Option one sounds more like Tim, but options two/three fit better with the devolution arc.)

Crap.

Okay, so this is pretty bad; who knows what the Black Lady's doing to him?

We (the readers) do. She's torturing him for information about this upcoming attack and how he has been resisting her commands.

We gotta do something! 

It'd be too risky to spring him, says someone, we'd probably just get captured as well.

Hey, Spectrum, when were we planning on staging this whole thing again? In just a few days, Spec says, uncharacteristically grim, He'll have to hold out until then.

This visibly pains Spec, they really like Tim, possibly a crush.

PRE-BATTLE MONTAGE BABEEY!

A reiteration of the basic plan.

People are running around, suiting up however they suit up, saying their "I love you"s however they do.

Big speech, collaborative from Rose Red, Spectrum, Lux and Umber, Maren and Mark, and Emma.

What are we fighting for today?

What we have lost, what has been taken from us.

The many who have not escaped as we did.

A better society in the future. 

This is not a rescue mission. They are not going in to save Tim, there are going in to break the system. Saving Tim is just one of the good results of this. As such, this is not a rescue speech, this is a revolutionary's speech.

Battle! 

Includes the fantastic line of “talk s hit, get hit!” by someone attacking a chant based spellcaster.

Culmination of the “Any’s Mech” sub-plot (may be a two pilot mech with Em as the other pilot)

Also includes Albus' redemption, where he does something sacrificial to help/protect Rose Red and by extension The People's Court. (The Rainbow Court? What court is Spec?) Possibilities include Albus refusing to fight when played, kneeling in submission before his opponent. That's all I got right now.

So what does this involve, actually?

This is Spec making a formal claim to the throne and showing they have the manpower to back it up.

They have to fight their way there.

They escalate from “Right to be The Chosen Heir to the Monochrome Court” to “Make Me King Right Now I’ll Fight You”

So they set up a three-way board, each side playing for itself, but also trying to play the other two off each other.

The Black and White Ladies have pieces of various shapes and talents, but they all wear the color of their court. Spectrum's side lives up to their name, it is a riot of color from all of those who have pledged themselves to them.

This might be a no-mercy match, or at least the Ladies might try and play it that way, knowing that whoever wins this game gets all the contracts.

Resolution of the Glass Mask sub-plot

Tim escapes wherever he is because he never gave his whole true name.

Before this though, I want him to have a confrontation with the Black Lady.

"Magic likes a story right? So which one is this, huh? They say there are only seven basic plots, so which one is this?"

He says it's "Slaying the Monster"

Tim sees this as his only chance to fight on the side of what he sees as justice, since by submitting to the mask, he gives up any identity he has, including the identity he “gave” to the Black Lady.

True, he becomes a kind of raging monster, but hey, it means he isn’t fighting for the “wrong” side.

This Ends TERRIBLY.

He takes a deep breath before putting on the mask

Red, Spec, and Emma are understandably freaked the heck out, that’s their friend in that thing, and he doesn’t do this kind of thing! What is happening, and can our dude be saved? 

Maybe? Currently, we know of two options: option one, and the better backed option, we try to break the mask, which will collapse this current iteration. This will probably kill our dude. Option two, which is mostly just wishful thinking, is an act of true love, and they don’t really have much there either.

They end up having to go with option one, saving the Faerie dimension from certain doom.

“it’s over we won” *monster slowly staggers up in the background* *comrades point and try to speak* “No, it’s over. We won. We’re done now, everybody go home” *a meteorite drops from the sky, killing the monster* “Will…” “That was not me” “But Will-” “That was nOT ME”

Will may or may not have residual cosmic powers

Freedom for the bonded.

Probably collaborative shenanigans with Will’s maybe cosmic powers and Spec’s new legal ones.

Part V- So, how does one live after all this? (Epilogue)

Going home?

Welp, looks like my mom remembers me now. That’s nice I guess. She’s gonna kill me.

Welp, looks like my dad remembers me now. That sucks, I hate that guy.

I grew up in the nineteen thirties. Does my immortality still apply? If I leave the Faerie dimension do I die? I have no clue how life out there works anymore, and I have no living relatives I can contact for help.

I liked living here, do I have to leave?

Gray Gang to the rescue!

Umber and Lux are fae enough and served long enough to earn themselves actual small estates. They work with Mark and Maren and combine the property and modify it with Spec’s help so that people who need to can stay there.

Some of the people they had helped in the past actually grew up to be pretty successful, like doctor/ lawyer kind of successful. The Gray Gang gets into contact with them, and people who need it get human help (therapy, temporary living, working papers, etc.)

Effect on Faerie society

Specifically, what are our main characters doing?

Probably accomplished through a scene featuring some or all of them, talking about life.

Rose probably stays in Faerie as one of Spec’s most trusted knights, so she doesn’t have to worry about going back to her dad. She is of course welcome to stay with the Gerbers, but that could get dicey legally. She is still free to come and go from Faerie as she pleases, within reason.

A news report, or a scene from Rose’s dad’s perspective. She’s out getting groceries with Will and she sees him and just. Decks him. It’s great.

"Wiiiillllll," Rose whined, tugging on Will's sleeve like a needy two-year-old, "Willll, I neeeed iiiit."

[itsworn]

Homemade, 50-Year-Old Fuel Motor Roars Back To Life

The Big Banger Theory

Fueler.

Improbable survival stories are standard equipment around here. HOT ROD Deluxe is known for telling resurrection tales that defy all odds and logic. Some of those story ideas surely would’ve been rejected outright by skeptical editors as borderline unbelievable, had photographic evidence not undeniably documented a journey from distant past to survivor. Forget “borderline”; this is one backyard project that’s been unreal from the very start, when a retired machinist began building his racing engine, literally—a gigantic four-banger that once again cackles with nitromethane—a half-century later.

If that already sounds unbelievable, prepare to suspend disbelief long enough to hear the rest of the story. The happy ending depicted by these current photos followed decades of neglect, disassembly, and even theft that could’ve, would’ve, and certainly should’ve written a far sadder story. The magical intervention of a young Springfield, Oregon, engine builder was the last link in a long chain of unlikely coincidences—or was it something else?

“I feel like Grandpa led me to him,” says Carol Stange, a since-retired meter reader for the Springfield Utility Board in Oregon whose monthly route included a joint named Tim’s Muscle Cars. She’d never met or even seen anyone on the grounds until the day she spied an old Lyndwood dragster chassis out front. As a lifelong gearhead from Long Beach, California, whose grandfather had exposed the whole family to nearby Lions Drag Strip, Carol couldn’t resist knocking on the office door. When nobody answered, she walked inside and to the back of the building, following male voices.

“A buddy and I were painting his GTO in my spray booth,” Tim Riel recalls. “We both had respirators on. I thought, ‘Wow, this lady has a lot of nerve, walking up to a couple of strangers wearing masks!’” Tim and Carol agree that their introductory conversation began something like this:

“Hi, I saw your dragster out front. My grandfather had one of those.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, in the mid-1960s. He built his own engine. Car Craft wrote about it.”

“Is your grandpa Byron Barnes?”

Imagine Carol’s shock, hearing a total stranger utter the name of her late grandfather. “I followed him up to the front office, where Tim had a big stack of magazines. He went right to the issue and pulled it out. I said, ‘Yeah, that’s the article.’ I couldn’t believe this was happening! Tim seemed intrigued that the chassis survived, was still in the family, and was here in Oregon.”

A magazine published seven years before Tim Riel was born just happened to be among several milk crates of “moldy, smelly, old paper” that he’d recently purchased from a swap-meet vendor. Tim and his machinist father, Rod Riel, had been going through the pile that very week. “We kept coming back to that Car Craft and that one article. We couldn’t get over how much work went into the engine. It still amazes me. This guy not only made his own engine parts; first, he had to design and build the tooling to make them. Everything had to be perfectly aligned for those pistons to go up and down. Even with today’s technology, not many people would—or even could—do what her grandpa did 50 years ago.”

So, as an engineering exercise, this project was pretty hard to beat; as a race car, not so much. In fact, it never got past the testing stage. When the late, great writer A.B. Shuman submitted his tech story around March 1967, Byron had run the rail twice. First time out, injected on nitro, netted “a quite respectable 120 mph in eleven seconds, shutting off at the halfway mark and coasting through the traps,” CC reported. Switching to dual Weber carbs and, presumably, gasoline for a second try, there was another half-pass of 129 mph but no e.t reported by Shuman. Gifford Barnes counts three trips to Lions Drag Strip with his dad, all plagued by bogging off the line: “He couldn’t get the fuel system right,” he explains. “After the car stumbled, it really charged, but Mickey [Okahara, the driver] couldn’t get away clean.” The wide variety of used parts visible in photos and recovered by Tim Riel point to additional experimentation, as does the only time slip left behind. On the back is scrawled, “50% nitro.” If, in fact, the indicated 8.74 and 164 were recorded by this car, it would’ve been one of the swiftest four-bangers of the era—but not competitive for the type of racing Byron initially envisioned.

Considering how many years one old guy, working alone, needed to bring this engine, particularly, plus a homebuilt chassis all the way from conception to completion—the crankshaft alone required 30 days, according to CC—it’s hardly surprising that classification rules would evolve. The article cites so-called “junior fuelers” for Byron’s inspiration. After Lions bowed out of the fuel ban in 1962, that unofficial term came to be loosely applied to single-engined, normally aspirated dragsters burning nitromethane and/or methanol, regardless of engine type or size. Those not quick enough to qualify for Top Fuel Eliminator might’ve run Top Gas or amongst themselves. Byron’s decision to make his sheetmetal cylinder block tall enough to displace either 353 or 392 ci hardly seems coincidental at a time when 354 and 392 Chryslers were fashionable. Some injected Chevys were poked ’n’ stroked to 358 and even 389 cubes.

By the time Byron was ready to go, Lions had banished fuel burners from Top Gas and created an official Junior Fuel category for unblown engines no larger than 310 cubes. Bigger motors moved into either C/Fuel Dragster (up to 350 ci) or B/FD (to 400 ci), both of which were dominated by small-inch, blown Hemis and Chevys. No wonder Byron lost interest in 1968 or ’69 and parked this car. Indeed, but for one old magazine article and however few firsthand witnesses remain, nearly nobody would know it ever existed.

Getting back to Tim’s Muscle Cars, the Springfield meter reader regularly returned to share leisurely lunch breaks and talk shop. “All I knew was that the bare chassis was hanging in her uncle’s barn,” Tim says. “Carol never got over there to take pictures. I told her that I’d be interested in buying whatever was left.”

“Oh, yeah, he bugged me for over a year,” Carol confirms, laughing. “He’d say, ‘Can I just go see it, please?’ I didn’t want to bug my uncle Giff just so someone could look up in his rafters. But my family always hoped to get Grandpa’s dragster running. My cousin Frank, Giff’s son, started on that about 20 years ago. He took the car apart, spread the parts out on the bench, but it never went back together. When I finally called to tell my uncle I’d met a young guy with his own engine shop who might want to buy the car, Giff said, ‘Nope, he can’t buy it. If you really think he’ll do something with it, tell him to come get it.'”

What Carol didn’t know at the time was that thieves had recently removed critical components from Giff’s unlocked boat barn and sold them for scrap. Luckily, her uncle and cousin noticed parts missing in time to track down the metals dealer before he got around to melting or reselling most, though the rare quick-change rearend was already gone. They went to court to recover what remained and prevailed, eventually.

“All I expected to get was a chassis, or part of one,” Tim says. “I planned to look for dragster parts at swap meets, maybe put in an early Hemi or small-block. Carol’s mom, uncle, aunt, cousin, brother, and sister were all there to say goodbye to Grandpa’s dragster. I walked into this big metal shed with a huge fishing boat on one side. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Byron’s short-block was sitting on a crate. Piles of parts were on the floor. Both M&H slicks were still mounted on Halibrands. The original parachute was hanging from the rafters. We found the complete clutch assembly and can, all the mag body panels, even a firesuit. After everything was laid out at home the next day, I was amazed by how complete the car was. I saw it as a giant erector set, minus the rearend and some small pieces that my dad and I could probably make. We were lucky to have the Car Craft for reference.

“I was worried that Byron’s two children wouldn’t be around long enough to see it get done,” he adds. “I’d made them a promise to try, but Giff’s health was not good. He and his sister, Carol’s mom, were in their eighties. This was important. I wanted that engine to run again, on nitro. I really got into it.”

He sure did, gradually assembling the erector set most nights and weekends for eight months, in between engine work for patient patrons of Tim’s Muscle Cars. When he proudly unveiled the sum of those parts, Byron’s descendants were there to witness the resurrection of a father and grandfather, along with an old dragster. “We were all in tears,” Tim admits.

“To me, it’s just amazing how things worked out,” says Carol Stange, the fearless meter reader whose knock on one door opened so many more. “It was fun, and I just felt like it was meant to be.”

The all-homemade engine was designed to displace either 353 or 392 ci, depending on crankshaft selection. To minimize weight, designer-builder Byron Barnes settled on four cylinders (versus eight), a sheetmetal crankcase (versus cast iron), and valves in the block (versus overhead). Note the 3-inch offset, to counteract torque.

Both the dragster and the former Romania Chevrolet store were operational in the 1960s. Despite its lengthy wheelbase of 152 inches and maze of suspension tubing, the car weighed just 710 pounds, wet.

Everything orange was powdercoated by McKenzie Chrome Plating (Springfield, Oregon). All four wheels and tires are original. After the original mag body was ruined by a careless sandblaster—and Tim Riel was quoted a price of $3,500 per magnesium sheet—buddy Les Schoonover (Springfield) replicated the cowl and side panels in aluminum.

Restorer-caretaker Tim Riel estimates that no fewer than 100 pieces of sheet steel were welded together to create the 116-pound bare block.

Byron Barnes obviously had his own ideas about weight transfer, probably influenced by his oval-track history. He formed the fuel tank by cutting and merging two military-surplus water kettles engraved with the words “U.S. Army.”

The aluminum cover contains the coolant sitting on top of four individual cylinder heads. Water enters through the open hole (which still lacks a pressure cap to replace the tiny original). Boiling water exits through the overflow tube. Mike Maher did the pinstriping and lettering. The rear-main seal is a small-block Chevy item.

The parachute, M&H 8.20-15 Racemasters, and magnesium Halibrand wheels are original. The Portland Swap Meet produced a virtual duplicate of the stolen rearend assembly, including Halibrand champ-car quick-change, that fit perfectly.

Rod Riel, Tim’s machinist dad, reproduced one of the Anglia-style spindles and some missing suspension pieces on his CNC machines. The shocks are Volkswagen. The aluminum fuel line is original.

The custom tri-drive system is a work of art. A spur gear on the crank runs the cam, which drives the Bendix Mini-Mag, Hilborn fuel pump, and a Ford six-cylinder oil pump at the bottom that fills a custom dry-sump pan. A piece of leather that seals the timing cover to the crankcase is the closet thing to a gasket in the entire engine. Byron even built his own injectors. The original velocity stacks and Hilborn barrel valve survived, but not the exhaust flange and headers, which Rod Riel replicated. Since our photo session, Tim has completed the complicated linkage and added a mini-starter to the front of the crank. Previously, he hand-operated the throttle with a long rod connecting the individual injectors and fired the engine on a stand, since none of the Riels can squeeze into the cockpit for push starting.

Since stumbling onto this photography location in Eugene, Oregon, we’ve learned that the former home of Lew Williams and, later, Joe Romania Chevrolet is infamous for 2000 and 2001 arson attacks by local “ecoterrorists” targeting gas guzzlers. In the first incident, three light trucks collectively valued at $28,000 were torched by activists who happened to be under surveillance by a terrorism task force that night. Nine months later, a different gang set fire to 35 new Suburbans and Tahoes worth $959,000. The Chevy store was sold shortly thereafter and ultimately closed in 2005 when the University of Oregon purchased the prime, four-and-a-half-acre property adjoining the campus for storage. The wooden panels were installed after rock-throwing vandals found the original glass irresistible.

Machinists’ Union

It took a father-son team of master machinists in Long Beach, California, to create this engine, and it took another to restore it to running condition, a half-century later and 900 miles north. The shared experience has tightly bonded the Barnes-Garwood and Riel families to this day.

Gifford Barnes, 86, machined the individual cylinder heads for his late dad’s engine. He inherited Byron’s last race car in 1981 and stored it for 34 years. The Barnes-Garwood family photo album produced a rare 1930s snapshot of father and son together.

Kay Barnes Garwood, 84, is Byron’s daughter. Nearly eight decades after posing with the family dog and midget at home in Long Beach, she lives with daughter Linda Garwood (left) in Port Orford, Oregon.

Tim and Jan Riel rescued and revived their rail with invaluable assistance from Rod Riel (left), a semiretired CNC machinist. Its new home is Tim’s Muscle Cars, a restoration and engine shop in Springfield, Oregon.

Social Media, Old School

For 400 years before digital devices connected us senders and receivers, magazines did that job. This one still does, albeit with a time delay measured in months or years, not nanoseconds. You know the drill: HOT ROD Deluxe publishes an article or column or photo caption that thrills/irritates you into sending love letters/hate mail. Correspondence deemed worthy of print shows up in stores and mailboxes two or three issues later to thrill/irritate fellow readers. See, just like Facebook posts, minus fake news.

Despite modern production technology, “slick” magazines still take forfriggin’ever to print, bind, and transport, as you’ve undoubtedly noticed. Our bimonthly infrequency automatically puts HRD another month behind the monthlies. If you’re reading this on the West Coast, add another week for trains and trucks to move the bundles all the way from the Midwest, where most of America’s ink gets spilled. Finally, your copy shows up in, say, Springfield, Oregon. Reading from front to back (as editors and the good Lord intended), you eventually get to a couple of 50-year-old, unpublished outtakes from a 1968 Car Craft story. The caption asks if any reader knows what happened to an obscure race car that vanished 15 years before you were born, a car that happens to be parked in your shop.

Reader Tim Riel responded almost as soon as his heart settled back into his chest. Editor Hardin couldn’t wait to print the letter and photos Tim sent of the restored rail. Meanwhile, though, another issue’s bimonthly production cycle came and went, delaying publication by one more edition. When the car reappeared in color in January 2016’s Scrapbook section, Mr. Ed. promised in print to send contributor Dave Wallace—who claimed a personal connection to its builder—to shoot a proper feature. In consideration of the Northwest’s notorious rainy season, we postponed that photo session until the late spring. Finally, the Byron Barnes rail returns to these pages, completing a print conversation started nearly two years ago—if not 50 years ago this December, when Petersen Publishing Company staffers Bob Swaim and A.B. Shuman visited the car both at home and at Lions Drag Strip.

Original Car Craft article, June 1968

From HRD’s “The Golden Age Of Drag Racing,” September 2015

From HRD’s letters section, January 2016

Shortly after Tim Riel’s letter and photos appeared in HRD, another stranger showed up at Tim’s Muscle Cars. He told Tim that, as a kid, he lived in Byron’s neighborhood and helped clean out the home shop after Mr. and Mrs. Barnes died weeks apart in 1981. He was given the blueprint as a souvenir. He thought it belonged with the race car. Sure enough, these cockpit measurements match. Byron evidently purchased a partial kit from little-known H&L Metals. Tim was so stunned by the gift that he never got a name. He’s hopeful that the generous mystery man will see this and identify himself to HRD—extending the series of old-school, ink-on-paper “posts” described above.

Lost And Found

On the snowy morning in January 2014 that Tim and Rod Riel dragged a trailer to the Oregon coast, a bare chassis was all they expected to find. Imagine their surprise!

For the first time, Tim Riel laid his hands—and eyes—on the remnants of a chassis he’d seen only in a Car Craft issue printed four years before he was born.

Carol Garwood Stange (right) is the retired Oregon meter reader who put Tim Riel (left) together with Grandpa’s slingshot. Her big sister, Linda Garwood, held up the nose while their uncle Giff supervised.

The rotating assembly stayed inside of Byron’s sheetmetal block since he last ran the car, circa 1968-69. Three types of steel were pressed together, then arc-welded with titanium-nickel rod, to form a hollow crankshaft with a 4.5-inch stroke.

Gifford Barnes machined the individual cylinder heads so precisely that they seal to the sheet-steel crankcase without gaskets. His dad used 40 capscrews made of aircraft-grade titanium, likely left over from one of Byron’s aerospace projects. All but a few of the original fasteners were located, cleaned up, and reinstalled by Tim Riel. Threaded tubes around the spark plugs prevent coolant from grounding out the plugs.

The camshaft is hollow. Byron fused individual lobes onto the tube, then had Iskenderian grind them to deliver 230 degrees of duration with 0.400-inch lift. “The cam wasn’t even in the engine, so I had no idea about where to degree it or set the lash,” Tim says. “The drive gear is slotted about 70 degrees where the bolt goes, for advance and retard. So I called and talked to Isky’s son, who remembered Ed playing cards with Byron. He said his dad would call after he got back from lunch. I thought, ‘Oh, sure, like Ed Iskenderian is gonna personally call some little engine builder in the middle of nowhere.’ That same afternoon, I answer the phone, and Mr. Isky says, ‘Old man Barnes still owes me 40 bucks from our weekly card game!’ He said he’d look around and let me know if he found anything. About two weeks later, I get a box with the original cam card with all of the specs, a new set of valvesprings, and a handwritten note: ‘Best wishes, Ed Iskenderian.'”

Jahns Pistons cast five of these aluminum, 5-inch-diameter monsters in the wooden mold. Byron finish-machined four to arrive at 10:1 compression. He also made five 4130 chrome-moly connecting rods, welding the ends to the tubular beams. This spare was never run.

The worn main bearings proved to be the most difficult replacement parts to find, plus the most expensive. Because all crank journals are identical, Tim had to spend $1,200 on five complete sets of obsolete aircraft bearings to get the five pieces. An old-timer at Federal-Mogul successfully cross-referenced the original part numbers by searching old paper catalogs. The valvetrain combines original, slipper-style lifters with Chrysler Hemi springs, retainers, and locks.

Everything here was formed from steel. First, though, Byron had to make wooden or cardboard templates for each piece, then construct a flame-cutting rig with a tracing stylus at one end and an oxy-acetylene cutting torch at the other. The intake and exhaust ports are two pieces of steel stampings, welded together. Also note the six water jackets per cylinder.

The original, giant 2-5/8-inch intake and exhaust valves are stainless heads on chrome-moly stems.

Half a century after this big banger first went together, it’s as good as new, plus much prettier. Of many missing parts reproduced by the Riels, the most difficult to design were the spur gears and shaft driving the magneto and fuel and oil pumps. In some old photos of the engine wearing Weber carbs, the two-hole bracket contained a different mag and a coil.

Who Was Byron Barnes?

This writer should know, having met him a few times in the mid-1970s. We even lived on the same Huntington Beach street for a while, yet I never really knew the man. Among my regrets is not spending more time in the large shop behind his house on Old Pirates Lane that held both the Hudson he’d customized and his fully assembled slingshot, covered in dusty plastic. I was introduced by my then-girlfriend as the editor of Drag News, but to him I was the longhair sleeping with his beloved granddaughter, Carol Garwood—now Carol Stange, the retired Oregon meter reader responsible for connecting his last race car to the young guy destined to rescue and restore it.

Byron’s family revealed that he was born in 1907 in Nebraska. In 1911, his parents moved to Long Beach. At age 16, Byron’s first homebuilt hot rod got him arrested and jailed. Since his dad was then running for city council, the folks shipped him offshore to herd goats on San Clemente Island until the election was over. He and a buddy later assembled an airplane that Byron flew before building and driving his first midget. When World War II halted auto racing, he worked for Douglas Aircraft Company as a mechanics’ instructor and design engineer developing tooling for the B-17 bomber. In the mid-1950s, Byron designed, built, and patented oil field equipment that enabled an early retirement. For the next 25 years, he indulged automotive passions ranging from the dragster and Hudson custom to off-road racing with local pals Bill Stroppe and Parnelli Jones.

Though Byron could likely afford any new car, I saw him driving Ford Pintos exclusively. Rather than bother changing fluids, he’d torture an engine until it rattled or smoked, swap motors in an afternoon, then perform an autopsy on the dead player. (The same boat shed that stored the dragster’s engine held another big surprise for Tim Riel: “There must’ve been 70 Pinto 2000- and 2300cc motors stacked up in there!”) Byron’s last daily driver was reportedly returning nearly 50 mpg when emphysema ended an incredible journey in April 1981, just shy of his 74th birthday.

Byron (right) was also a pilot. During the Depression, he earned money repairing and reselling crashed planes. Neither his son nor daughter recognized the other dapper dude.

The crowd at San Diego’s Balboa Stadium illustrates the huge popularity of midget racing before WWII and immediately after, until free competition from television kept people home on weekends. The fourth car back appears to be Byron’s.

This flathead is thought to be the first that Byron built from scratch, during the 1930s. It disappeared with a fast-talking salesman who promised to take it from track to track, nationwide, and write orders for production copies. Byron also constructed a DOHC prototype that might be the motor pictured in his wrecked racer. Historian Greg Sharp tells us that more than 100 different engine types powered midgets, all limited to 105 ci.

A page from Byron’s logbook documents eight events in five weeks at L.A.’s Gilmore and Atlantic Boulevard Stadium tracks during the summer of 1939.

Unlike most midgets of the era, Byron’s looked as good as they ran.

Gifford Barnes doesn’t know whether this could be his dad’s overhead cammer, but it’s the only DOHC engine shot in the family scrapbook.

Evidence that Byron’s hot rods attracted hot drivers includes this steamy shot of a guy recognized by historian Greg as Mel Hansen, “a big-name midget driver who qualified six times for the Indy 500, with a best finish of eighth.”

The forward-leaning positions of both drivers suggest this to be the moment of impact after Byron’s unknown shoe spun. We’re guessing that the background cars belonged to the two workers behind the wall.

The dragster’s finished block and crank are shown in the Long Beach shop where Byron handbuilt his last racing engine. The Barnes-Garwood family still owns the building on Signal Hill. Appropriately, it’s currently leased to a company making parts for Smart cars.

In the early 1970s, granddaughter Carol paid $100 for this Northern California barn find. It was original and complete except for a front seat. Once Carol got the engine running, her mom drove the 400-plus miles home to Long Beach sitting on a crate. Never content to follow a crowd, Grandpa Barnes hopped up the straight eight and built himself the only Hudson custom we’ve ever seen.

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