#Vehicle Recovery Operations

[townpostin]

Bike Theft Ring Busted in Jamshedpur, Five Arrested

Police recover stolen motorcycles; two minors among those apprehended A coordinated police operation has dismantled a motorcycle theft gang operating in Jamshedpur’s Parsudih area. JAMSHEDPUR – Parsudih police have arrested five individuals involved in a motorcycle theft ring, recovering five stolen bikes in the process. The arrested adults include Mohd. Rehmad and Saddam Hussain from Kapali, and…

[adverbally]

In a Deep Sea of Blankets

Written for the @steddiebingo prompt “company” and inspired by the @stmarchmm prompt “nests” | wc: 1,965 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steddie, Alpha Eddie, Omega Steve, Dustin Henderson, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, hurt/comfort, trauma and alpha drop recovery, found family, domestic fluff, scenting, cuddles galore

This was inspired by @alwaysurvalentine’s tags on As You Fall All Around, requesting lots of cuddles and a dog pile with Dustin.

———

The drive from Reefer Rick’s place to Steve’s house seems to take forever, mostly because it’s hard for Steve to actually operate a vehicle with Eddie clinging to him. With Robin crammed in the back with the pups, they have the front seat to themselves with plenty of room for Eddie to curl up beside Steve, his nose tucked securely against Steve’s scent gland.

The Alpha is quiet in the aftermath of his drop. It’s like the events of the past twenty-four hours have hit him all at once and Eddie doesn’t have the energy to do anything but breathe in his Omega’s soothing cinnamon-sugar scent. It’s a comfort to Steve, too, having his Alpha so close— the steady rhythm of Eddie’s exhales against his skin, the firm embrace of Eddie’s arms around his waist, the press of their bodies warm even through their clothes.

They stay close while Steve herds everyone into the house, holding Eddie’s hand as he guides him upstairs, down the hallway, through Steve’s bedroom and into the en suite. It’s an awkward journey; Eddie is capable of walking, just not particularly interested in doing so if it requires him to lift his head away from Steve’s neck and look where he’s going.

Steve can be patient. It’s easy when he remembers Eddie shaking and whimpering in the throes of his drop, remembers that he would do anything for his Alpha to never have to feel that way again.

He turns on the shower and strips away Eddie’s clothes. Excavating layers of leather and cotton, peeling away the lingering dirt and sour sweat clinging to the fabric, it’s a relief to scent Eddie beneath it all. His smell isn’t fully back to normal, more of a smoldering log than a roaring campfire, but it’s lost the sickly edge of distress.

“You gonna join me?” Eddie rasps.

Steve almost cracks a joke, but there’s still something raw in the way Eddie is watching him— a little uncertain, almost embarrassed— that stops him. “Of course,” he says instead, already undoing the fly of his jeans.

It’s one of the more efficient showers they’ve shared, more focused on actually getting Eddie clean than on enjoying each other’s wet and soapy bodies. Steve might prefer this, if he’s honest: Eddie relaxing under Steve’s hands as he messages shampoo into his scalp, his burnt wood smell blooming beneath unscented soap. It taps into Steve’s lifelong craving for domesticity. After so much time spent alone in an empty, echoing house, it soothes him to have someone else sharing his space and letting him care for them.

Somehow, Steve resists the urge to kiss him until they’re dried off. Eddie is stepping into a pair of boxers fresh from Steve’s drawer, hair dripping despite the towel wrapped around his shoulders, and Steve just has to grab the edges of the towel and pull him in until their lips meet.

“What was that for?” Eddie asks when he pulls away.

“Just because.” He’s not sure he wants to explain why the mere sight of Eddie in his house does it for him, if he could even articulate it. Instead, he presses another kiss to Eddie’s lips, then his cheek and his temple, and finishes with a final peck on the lips when Eddie leans into the touch. It almost hurts how tender Eddie can make him feel; how much he makes Steve want to bundle up Eddie in his clothes, keep him safe and warm in his nest and never let him leave.

Maybe that’s not a feasible solution in the long term, but he can have it for now.

He gently steers Eddie in the direction of his bed, wet hair and all, with a minor detour to his dresser for some clean clothes for both of them. Then they crawl under the blankets of Steve’s bed, which already smell like them, and Eddie curls up with his head on Steve’s chest, and Steve feels like he can breathe again for the first time since he entered the boat house.

Eddie feels the same, if his long, satisfied sigh is anything to go by. He burrows more firmly into the familiar contours of Steve’s body, easily fitting them together even while half-asleep. Steve’s hands comb through Eddie’s hair in a steady rhythm that matches Eddie’s breaths as they get deeper and slower.

Steve’s eyes grow heavy, too, weighed down by the warmth of his Alpha in his nest and the comfort of his woodsy scent mixing with Steve’s own spicy sweetness. As it always does when Eddie is around, something settles in Steve’s chest. It’s like a puzzle piece snapping into place, a key fitting neatly into a lock, overflowing the spaces within Steve that he thought were too deep to ever be filled.

He doesn’t let himself fully fall asleep, just drifts in the calm space where he’s just barely aware of his surroundings. His Alpha is there and they’re cozy and safe, and that’s all that matters. If it were up to Steve, they would stay like this forever. No Upside Down, no murders, no hiding, just holding each other until they both rotted away.

All thoughts of peace rush from his mind like the tide when he hears a knock on his bedroom door.

“Steve?” The gentle lisp is clearly Dustin’s but he sounds quieter and more unsure than Steve has ever heard him.

“Come in,” Steve tells him, strained as he tries to project his voice across the room without disturbing Eddie.

Dustin’s head peeks around the edge of the door to make sure the older boys are decent. He must be satisfied with what he sees, since he doesn’t hesitate to enter and shut the door behind him. “He’s asleep?” he asks, tilting his head in Eddie’s direction.

Eddie hums in denial, though it’s not coherent enough to make much of an argument.

“Mostly,” Steve confirms. “He dropped pretty hard.”

“But he’s okay now?” Dustin presses. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other— uneasy, guilty.

It makes Steve’s chest ache. Eddie may be his Alpha, but Dustin has been part of his pack for years. His instincts itch to comfort the pup and pull him into the nest where Steve and Eddie can both look after him. “C’mere.” Steve holds out the edge of the blanket closest to Dustin, gesturing for him to come join their cuddling.

“Are you sure?” he hesitates.

“Eddie won’t mind. He’ll barely notice you’re here.”

Dustin toes out of his sneakers and slips into the nest on Steve’s other side. He smells warm and vaguely sweet in the way Steve associates with all of his pups, complementing his and Eddie’s scents in a way that just feels right.

Dustin seems to agree, considering how easily he snuggles against Steve. He mirrors Eddie’s position so both heads of messy curls rise and fall against Steve’s chest with each breath he takes. The resemblance is so striking that Steve can almost pretend that Dustin is really their pup, just for a second– a smaller Dustin, with that same glorious hair and Eddie’s curiosity and Steve’s attitude, could easily be mistaken for their biological child. God, Steve wishes.

It must bleed into Steve’s scent, that hint of wistfulness that almost tips into melancholy. Dustin whines into Steve’s chest when his cinnamon-sweetness goes a little sour.

“Hey, no.” Steve wraps his free arm around Dustin’s back, rubbing soothing circles through his shirt. “We’re okay, bud, it’s okay.”

“Are you mad at me?”

It’s so abrupt that it takes Steve’s breath away, like a punch to the gut. “What? No, why would I–?”

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that when you called Eddie ‘Alpha.�� That’s probably why you didn’t tell us, huh?” It comes out muffled with how close he’s pressing himself against Steve’s side. “You knew I would be a little shit about it.”

Steve hugs him tighter. “You’re always a little shit. It’s kind of your thing,” he says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. “But that’s what we love about you.”

“I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to hide it, you know?”

And that’s a whole other can of worms that Steve doesn’t think he can open tonight. He and Eddie would mostly be accepted as an Omega and Alpha couple, even in a town as small as Hawkins, but… He can’t help but remember how his father had reacted when he presented, how he’d introduced Steve to so many Alpha daughters of his coworkers over the years since. There were expectations, still, even if they went unvoiced, and there would be consequences if Steve couldn’t meet them.

He tries to explain without explaining, “We weren’t hiding it from you. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a while, just the two of us.” It’s not a lie.

“And he makes you happy?”

“Yeah.” Steve can’t suppress his smile, not that he would want to. ‘Happy’ feels like too small a word for everything Eddie makes him feel. Steve wants everyone to know how much he loves him, what a good Alpha he is, all the little things he does to make Steve feel safe and cared for. Despite their superficial differences, they understand each other in a way nobody else ever has. “Yeah, he does. I hope I make him happy, too.”

Dustin nods to himself. For a long moment, he’s quiet enough that Steve thinks he might have fallen asleep until he admits, “I was scared. For both of you.”

Steve blinks against the memory of Eddie, broken bottle in his hand, half-feral and snarling at one of their pups, smelling wrong and trembling in Steve’s arms. “Yeah. I was, too.”

“Me, too.” Eddie makes both of them jump when his hand settles on Dustin’s shoulder, brushing across Steve’s belly on the way.

“Jesus.” Steve tries to stifle his smile but it’s hard when Dustin is giggling into his armpit and Eddie is patting them both, clumsy with drowsiness. “Go back to sleep, you idiot.”

“Nooo,” he whines. “Two of my favorite people are here, and I don’t wa–” A massive yawn cuts him off mid-word. “Don’t wanna miss out on the action.”

They’ve all had more than enough action for one day, Steve thinks, but he gets Eddie’s desire to be a part of everything. It’s one of the things he loves about him. “I promise we’re not doing anything fun. Just rest, sweetheart.” He rubs his chin over the top of Eddie’s head, comforting and scent-marking him all at once.

“You’re gonna stay here, right?” Eddie sounds nervous and embarrassed about it.

This is why Steve never wanted to tell him about the Upside Down. He didn’t want Eddie to know that fear, the kind that makes darkness darker and silence louder and keeps you awake even while it drains you of any energy you had left. Now Eddie not only knows about it but has seen it, and there’s nothing Steve can do to fix it.

Before Steve can respond, Dustin snorts. “It’s his house, dipshit. Where else would he go?”

Part of Steve wants to be horrified but a much bigger part is relieved when Eddie starts to laugh. His punch-drunk giggles are so normal, like this is just another sleepover with the two of them huddled under Steve’s blankets, enjoying each other’s company too much to go to sleep.

“I’ll be here,” Steve reassures him anyway. “But feel free to kick Dustin out whenever you get sick of him.”

Dustin squawks, affronted, and Eddie laughs even harder and tucks his nose against Steve’s scent gland. Steve, feeling warm inside and out, pulls them both a little closer and lets their presence lull him to sleep.

[blueiscoool]

Gold Coins from the 1708 San José Galleon Seen in New Images

Researchers used robotic diving vehicles to study gold coins on the seafloor by the wreck of the Spanish galleon San José.

New details of gold coins found off the coast of Colombia around the "world's richest shipwreck" verify they are from the Spanish galleon San José, a treasure ship that sank in 1708 during a cannon duel with British warships.

The galleon was laden with up to 200 tons (180 metric tons) of gold, silver and uncut gemstones when it sank, and the treasure's modern value may be as high as $17 billion.

Colombia's government hopes to recover some of the artifacts for a dedicated museum that is yet to be built. But there are opposing claimants, including the Spanish government, which asserts the wrecks of its naval vessels, no matter how old, remain the property of Spain.

The authors of a new study, published Tuesday (June 10) in the journal Antiquity, include researchers from Colombia's navy and other Colombian authorities. Their analysis included studying images taken by remotely operated vehicles (ROVs) of dozens of rough coins that now lie scattered around the wreck at a depth of roughly 1,970 feet (600 meters).

In 2015, Colombia's government announced that it had located the San José in the Colombian Caribbean near the city of Cartagena, and the observations were made during four ROV expeditions to the wreck in 2021 and 2022.

According to the study, the observations confirm that the coins and the nearby wreck debris are from the 1708 wreck of the San José.

he ROV dives in 2021 and 2022 revealed dozens of distinctive gold cobs at several locations within the wreck, surrounded by other artifacts.

Sunken gold

The researchers describe seeing dozens of rough gold coins — the total number is not known — at several locations within the shipwreck, surrounded by other artifacts from the cargo, guns and everyday life as it was on board more than 300 years ago.

They used high-definition photography to closely examine the coins and determined that they had an average diameter of 1.3 inches (32.5 millimeters) and a likely weight of 27 grams (about 1 ounce).

The ROV images revealed the coins' designs. One side has a variation of a Jerusalem cross — one large cross surrounded by four smaller crosses — and a shield decorated with castles and lions. On the back, these coins show the "Crowned Pillars of Hercules above the waves of the sea," with the waves being unique to the Lima Mint, the researchers wrote in the study.

They also noted that some bore distinctive marks that had been hammered into the metal, including the marks of an assayer — an expert who tests the purity of metal — from the Spanish mint in Lima, now the capital of Peru, in 1707.

By cross-referencing their observations with colonial records, the researchers determined that the coins and other artifacts came from the San José, the study said.

Study lead author Daniela Vargas Ariza, a maritime archaeologist at Colombia's Almirante Padilla Naval Cadet School in Cartagena and the Colombian Institute of Anthropology and History in Bogotá, said these colonial Spanish coins were often cut from gold or silver ingots.

"Hand-struck, irregularly shaped coins — known as cobs in English and macuquinas in Spanish — served as the primary currency in the Americas for more than two centuries," she said in a statement.

The "cobs" made in Spanish colonial mints in the Americas were hand-struck coins, often irregularly shaped and cut from gold or silver ingots. 

Richest shipwreck

The San José wreck is one of the most valuable ever found, and there are intense legal disputes about who has the right to recover it — although it's not known if that's possible. Colombia hopes some of the treasure could be sold to pay for the archaeological recovery effort of the entire ship, but Colombian law may prohibit selling anything deemed a historical artifact.

Spain also claims the shipwreck and all of its treasure, under an international convention on the Law of the Sea that states the wrecks of naval vessels belong to their original nation. But Colombia hasn't ratified that convention, and critics say the provision is intended to protect modern warship technologies, not centuries-year-old treasure wrecks.

The San José was leading a treasure fleet of 18 ships from Cartagena bound for Europe on June 8, 1708, when it was attacked by a squadron of five British warships; Britain was Spain's enemy during the War of the Spanish Succession at that time.

The three largest Spanish galleons fired back with their cannons, but the San José blew up and sank when its stores of gunpowder exploded; most of the Spanish fleet fled to safety in the harbor at Cartagena.

By Tom Metcalfe.

[usafphantom2]

The only place in the world you can see a A-12,,SR-71 and Lockheed D-21

D-21b – #525

The D-21 was a reconnaissance drone (Unmanned Aerial Vehicle) offshoot of the Blackbird family, designed to overfly enemy territory by being launched from international airspace. Following launch it flew a preprogrammed course, which concluded by D-21’s return into international airspace. Once back in the international airspace, the D-21 would eject a hatch with the camera, film and navigation system for midair recovery and then self-destruct.

The D-21 on display at the Blackbird Airpark is one of the 17 vehicles left after the program was canceled in 1971. Only four operational missions were flown using D-21 drones, all of them over China.

The SR 71

is Construction of the 24th SR-71 airframe, Article 2024, with Air Force serial number 61-7973 began on 14 January 1966 with rollout of the completed airframe nine months later. Lockheed test pilots Bill Weaver and Darryl Greenamyer took it up on its maiden flight on 8 February 1967.

The aircraft was assigned to the 9th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing at Beale AFB, California. While much of its operational history is shrouded in secrecy, it is known that Article 2024 was ferried to the 9th SRW’s operating location (OL-8) at Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, Japan, on 27 September 1969. Over the course of the next 20 months, it was flown on 62 training missions and 45 operational sorties over Southeast Asia. The aircraft was returned to Beale on 8 June 1971.

The airframe was overstressed during an air show demonstration in England in May 1987. Subsequently, the aircraft was retired, making its last flight on 21 July 1987 with a total of 1,729.9 flight hours. It was placed on display at Blackbird Airpark in September 1991.

Timeline and Summary of Significant Events:

1. 1966 – Assembly started on 14 January, with delivery to the USAF nine months later

2. 1967 – Maiden flight on 8 February, by Lockheed test pilots Bill Weaver and Darryl Greenamyer

3. 1967/1968 – Assigned to the 9th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing at Beale Air Force Base, California

4. 1969 – Ferried to the 9th SRW’s operating location (OL-8) at Kadena Air Base, in Japan, on 27 September

5. 1969 to1971 – Flew 62 training missions and 45 operational sorties over Southeast Asia

6. 1971 – Returned to Beale AFB on 8 June

7. 1987 – Damaged in May, during the RAF Mildenhall Air Fete, when the pilot tried to initiate a climb at too low a speed just as the afterburners kicked in, bending the aircraft at the manufacturing line.

8. 1987 – On June 21, a flight to Site II in Palmdale was made to estimate cost of repairs and the decision was made to retire the aircraft instead

9. Accumulated 1,729.9 flight hours

10. 1991 – Placed on display at Blackbird Airpark in September

The first A-12, known as Article 121, was trucked to the test site and reassembled following its arrival there on 27 February 1962. It was a designated primary testbed for airworthiness and handling qualities, envelope expansion, airframe/powerplant integration, subsystems, and propulsion. Throughout its service life, Article 121 served as resident test article, bailed to the contractor. For photos and a detailed description of how Article 121 was built and transported in crates, under the cover of night to the test site, click here.

The A-12 had three first flights. On 25 April 1962, during a high-speed taxi run, Lockheed test pilot Louis W. Schalk got Article 121 airborne for

Timeline and Summary of Significant Events:

1. 1960 – Twelve A-12 ordered by CIA on 26 January

2. 1962 – First A-12 (Article 121) built

At first they were going to be launched from the M 21 later that was changed to the B 52 and several of launches were from Beale Air Force Base when I was living there.

I was just looking at Blackbird Park in Palmdale California. My husband was videoing it for me. He is there on business. These pictures are courtesy of my wonderful husband, @Rodney Miller.

Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[penvisions]

one fish, two fish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Your day seems to be turning around for the better and you certainly don't expect for the night to end the way that it is. Maybe this is the start of things to finally settle into place, you can only hope.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, mentions of reader getting ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, reader and frankie finally talk things through, alcohol consumption, illusions to traumatic event involving fire / explosions, illusions to helicopter wreck in the movie, illusions to canon death, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, triple frontier boys, descriptions of both frankie and santi as romantic interests, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: um hi ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie morales masterlist || navigation

Panic grips Frankie, reminding him of the time he had been stranded in the middle of a field beside a smoking and wrecked chopper, the crash landing he had tried to avoid becoming their new reality. They had been stranded, all five of them, with far too much money pulling taught the netting beneath the vehicle. He had tried his best, to get them to the coast, to get them home. But he had failed, the feeling all too real as he watches with a thudding heart the way you careen down the aisle away from him in the middle of a grocery store with a pinched expression.

“Daddy, why did she run away? I wanted to talk to her!”

“Maybe she was just in a hurry, mija.” He knows it’s bad to lie, especially to his daughter, but the truth is something he himself isn’t too clear on at the moment. He tries not to dwell on the way he hadn’t had the courage to reach out, a couple weeks ago now when you had let him know your phone was repaired and working once again.

He was a cowardly idiot, that’s the only reason he concluded with confidence.

Later that evening, once Cecila was snuggled in her bed with the blankets tucked in around her growing body did he allow himself the chance to sit out on his porch and let his thoughts consume him. He had no reason truly, why he hadn’t responded. The day getting away from him, work calling his attention as a routine check on an engine turned into a full-blown repair as a belt had snapped, too worn from the excessive trips into the air and idling along the runway as students learned out to operate the aerial vehicle. He had showered and thrown himself atop the bed that night after tending to his daughter, no thoughts for the phone still stored in the front pocket of his pants crumpled on the floor.

The next day it had been much the same; the outline for his day tedious but thankfully predictable with teaching, instructing, lecturing, testing, repairing. For nearly five hours until he had been able to catch his breath and take a few bites of something Will had been able to bring over, knowing how overwhelmed he was, how stretched thin he was.

He had no reason other than his own life was barely managed, as to why he hadn’t reached out. Another layer to it was how sleezy he would feel, he met you at a meeting for fuck’s sake. You obviously had been seeking out a lifeline of your own, something to cling to in the low moments. His evening routine of sitting in silence on his porch seemed to be his only respite as of late. The pack of menthol cigarettes he keeps hidden from his daughter taken out once the door to her bedroom shuts. The flick of the lighter almost Pavlovian in the way he eases some of the tension in his shoulders.

The overwhelming feeling of turning to the pills or the powder or the needles that once meant salvation no longer an option. A new need to be better, to do better. And who was he to provide better for you? When he couldn’t even approach you in a friendly enough air to sooth your worries in that moment. At the meeting he was the orchestrator of. He’s by no means a sponsor, but he does hold a bit of authority in the local community. An ear for those too shy to share during meetings, a wealth of information for those seeking it, someone who always plays a part in the annual picnics and events. A family man with no family of his own, save for his friends who give too much of themselves to him even now that their feet are back on US soil.

There’s no space for him in his life, let alone another person who deserves everything and anything. He couldn’t give that to you, the hours spent in the diner already a welcome strain on the one night he had to himself a week. He had given it up for you, your distress at his hand and actions too much for him to handle and not feel like he needed to fix, alter, repent for. Your smile had been shy at first, but oh, when it had bloomed fully before him in the bright lights of the diner? He knew he would give what little of himself was left in order to see it again.

That in itself sounded warning bells inside his head, it was surely to become another vice he would cling to in low moments. But unlike white powder or scored pills, you would were something someone to let down even as he clung to you. Pursuing you would only create more problems, not alleviate any that already plagued him. So he made the decision to keep his head down, work through the strain of being short-staffed at his job, to focus on his daughter. To let his own needs for something more idle and be shoved into the back of his mind along with thoughts of you.

He was okay, Cecilia was okay, their life was good if a bit hectic. If a bit lonely. He would survive, and he’s sure you would too without him complicating things for the both of you.

Frankie tried to be a good man, too many past deeds reminding him of why he felt the need to find repentance and be better. Should he cross paths with you again out in public, he would apologize. Offer to take you to the meeting he had scared you away from. Introduce you to the others, integrate you into the group. As a friend, as a fellow addict, as…a friend. And nothing more. It’s the least he could do if you deign to give him the time of day.

Sighing, he rubs a rough hand over his face, palm catching on his scruff and reminding him he needs to trim it. His grays are visible no matter how short it is, beginning to shine through the dark brown. He was about to get up from his spot in the whicker chair to do something about it, but he feels rooted in his spot. Legs heavy and torso leaned back into the cradle of the chair. His feet are bare, his cut off shorts made from an old pair of sweatpants allowing for him to feel the cool breeze as the evening progresses.

It's nice out. He brings another cigarette to his lips and lights it, smiling softly as the sound of your soft laughter echoes in his ears.

Santiago is rather nicer than Frankie had initially been, though there was no underlying current of mutual attraction. At least, that’s what you were trying to tell yourself, tamping down on the way the man’s eyes would sparkle when they caught both natural and artificial light. The way his curls beautiful and nearly completely steel grey looked effortlessly soft and pliable for wandering hands to tangle in. He was handsome, as you originally thought, but it was his kindness and thoughtfulness that was cementing him in your thoughts.

So unlike the snub of Frankie’s affections after that first night of actually talking to him, that night of the diner where you had thought there would be more just like it. Before you had found out that he had kept the revelation of him being a parent from you, something that hadn’t been mentioned during those long hours you had sat and spoke with him, held his hand and shared in easy laughter. Not that he owed you the truth, you suppose, because for all intents and purposes he was still just a stranger to you. A chance encounter and a lovely night of shared company that was more a memory now than anything.

The sting of his silence and then half-assed explanation and excuses had faded over the last few weeks.

Until he exited out from the truck of his friend that Santiago had called to help tow yours. There was a mechanic shop just next door to the gym one of his other friends owned, something about one of them having worked there or knew the person who operated it and would be able to get you a decent deal that wouldn’t break the bank or your resolve to make this city work.

“Fish! Didn’t expect you to be off work already.” Santiago crowds the man, arms going around his shoulders and a few loud claps of his hand on his back before they part. You see a flash of the smile that had been aimed at you over a low table only once before and your heart skips a beat even as it disappears. Frankie’s eyes land on you and you suddenly feel exposed. The bare skin of your arms blooming with goosebumps despite the warm evening air.

“Can’t believe it myself.” The two men embrace, hands slapping and then Santigo is engulfing you in a side embrace of your own. His eyes catch yours briefly, as if signaling that the next words out of his mouth were genuine.

“Been pretty long days lately. But this one needed some help, and who am I to deny her that?”

It’s quiet for a beat, Santiago looking between you and Frankie who suddenly don’t seem to be on talking terms, while Will beckons you over to ask a few questions about the front bumper. The conversation of whether or not it’s able to handle towing and what kind of issue is going on fades as you both round the front of vehicle.

“Hey,” The older man whispers, sidling up to his friend. “Thought you said you two smoothed things over?”

“We did….until I never texted her back and she ran into me and Ceci at the market.” Frankies large hand rubs at the back of his neck, curls greasy from work. He’s sure he doesn’t look too great, tired from the long day and caught off guard that the ‘friend’ Santiago needed a hand helping out turned out to be you. How did he even know you? He had only ever briefly met you at the bar, all those nights ago. Had only ever been mentioned to the man in passing, not willing to admit to selfishly and cowardly ignoring you for weeks now.

“…you didn’t say anything about that. I take it you hadn’t quite yet told her you’ve got a lil one, then, huh?”

“She nearly knocked into an endcap display once she saw it was me.” Stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his khakis, he shrugs his aching shoulders. Trying not to look too hurt by the way his heart had clenched at the reaction. It hadn’t been great but he had deserved it. He knows he did, he hadn’t been fair to you.

“Shit, Fish. That’s…I thought you said you liked her?” Santiago furrowed his brows and looked at Frankie straight on, not giving the man any space to avert his gaze. He was being a good friend, but he was also sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Liking her ain’t the problem, it’s finding time for her. Which I don’t even have for myself right now.”

“Well, now you’ll have time. Gonna set her up with Will for work, fill that open position for a secondary mechanic they’ve got on the base.” Before he could respond one way or another, Santiago was clapping him on the back and walking over to where Will was just pulling on the chains to ensure they were secure.

Fucking- of course he would end up being in proximity to you. Every detail of your hours long conversation rolled around his head. You would definitely get the job, your background and experience exactly what the base was looking for.

The only issue is that meant he would see you on nearly a daily basis and he’s already botched meeting you for the first time and second…he needed to clear the air. Even if it was going to be difficult to articulate the reasoning behind his actions. You deserve it, to not question in the back of your mind the endless possibilities of what had happened. If you even thought of him, if you even cared at this point.

No thoughts of other than making things right, for the sake of potentially working together and seeing the way you interact with his friends. They like you, an invitation for drinks offered for later.

A short drive down a few blocks and you find yourself standing in a nearly empty parking lot of a gym called ‘Brass Knuckles’. Frankie, Will, and Santiago were idly chatting, waiting for their friend to close up the gym for the night to walk across the street to the dive bar that was mentioned. He looks a little younger than the rest of them, but not by much. You’ve all lived your earlier years for the country, that much is obvious, in the way you all hold yourselves. The comradery was one of the things you missed the most about being around other people who had served as well. But your contact with much of your squadron had fallen by the wayside as things progressed after the attack that had earned you all an honorable discharge…

Shaking your head, you found yourself sat at a table with them all and they were discussing what to get a pitcher of.

“Any preferences, hermosa?” Santiago nudges his shoulder into yours. “You were drinking an amber the other night, maybe one of those?”

“I stick to those just cause they’re pretty even along the board no matter what city, but just get whatever you all want.” To be honest, you’re a little nervous being around Frankie. Let alone amidst his personal friend group, you didn’t want him to feel like you were imposing. He had made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested in you, even if he had tried to smooth things over in the way he had in that rambling voicemail.

It still felt like an invasion, his life his own and something he protected in omitting certain truths.

He keeps glancing at you from across the table and you weren’t sure what to think about him. He had apologized sure, but it seemed that he either feels some sort of obligation to you with all of the mix ups that keep happening or if he truly does wish to extend the hand of friendship. You don’t know him well enough to know which one for certain, thought if you were going off of the man he had been across a dingy table you would have to guess it’s because he was a good person who wanted you to be in his orbit.

“Nah, we’ll get a pitcher of that. And some appetizers to tide everyone over until dinner.” Benny winks at you as he stands and makes his way over to the bar counter.

“Pope here mentioned you’re on the lookout for a service job,” Will meets your eye with a charming smile. “We’ve got openings in Fish’s zone, mechanics and repair work. Don’t have too much in the way of engineering or assembly work, but we do have some instructor roles that need to be filled too. Safety protocol, seminar leaders, stuff like that. What experience do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was an explosives expert, Navy SEAL. Did foreign tours but spent most of my time at the Pearl Harbor base. Have a background in mechanical engineering and weapons instruction. But I’m not sure how much if it is on file now should I be looked up in the system.” It’s a clipped summary though your tone is open and honest, explaining in the simplest way you’ve come to know how to for exactly that question.

Potential jobs, apartment hunting, casual curiosity when using your discount out and about, it was a constant one in your life. Though the specifics of what happened to cause the way you had been ejected from active service more personal, a little heavier and harder to explain. Your keys jangle in your hand, the plastic chip emblazoned with ‘one year’ a grounding feeling in your palm. The cool plastic gives you a little comfort as you sit amongst strangers with similar pasts.

“Did you finish out your contract? The only time information about your skills gets altered is if you take leave before the end of it.”

“I was, um,” Your eyes catch the movement of Benny moving back toward the table, the phantom feel of flames licking at your sides as the room suddenly feels way too hot. “I was honorably discharged. For medical reasons.”

He watches you closely, eyes roving over your exposed arms, taking in the muscles you’ve managed to keep up as best as you could. There was no evidence you had been sick or otherwise that was visible, all of it shielded by your top. The other two men stealthily check you for the same, though you feel Frankie’s gaze more than the others, something underlying his casual concern. “And is everything okay now?”

“Oh, um, yes. It was…” You averted your eyes to the keys in your lap, unable to formulate a polite summary of the reason you had ended up sitting across from him. It was a lot, endless meetings and deep conversations, of yelling and arguing. Of admittance after too much avoidance of the truth. A lot of fault on your shoulders, on those around you, on medical professionals and the circumstances that had begun it all.

“Don’t need the details, if you’re uncomfortable sharing them. We can discuss is further when you come into the base for a “formal” interview, if you think it’ll affect any aspects of the job.” You feel the band of anxiety around your chest relax, the breath you take in expands your lungs instead of feeling stuck in the back of your throat. “How does- what’s today again-?”

“Wednesday, you big oaf.” Benny teases as he returns to the table with a full pitcher of dark beer and a stack of pint glasses nestled into each other.

“So kind and gracious, little brother.” He rolls his eyes as he thinks something over. “Would Friday work for you? Give me the weekend to run your resume and file over with the higher ups and could probably formally offer you something on Monday.”

You find yourself at the table alone with Frankie. His friends gone to the other side of the bar to start a game of pool amongst themselves. Brother against brother with Santiago to moderate.

It’s…awkward to say the least. Apprehensive tension charging the air around you both as you sip on your beer. It’s the second of yours, though Frankie is still on his first.

“Santiago and I ran into each other,” You blurted out, unable to handle the silence. Frankie had been lost in thought, plush lips twitching as he seemed to go over words he thought to say and then changed his mind. His eyes snap up from the foam he was watching slowly disappear in his drink to you across the table. You swallowed down the way your breath stuck in your throat as his eyes met yours. Dark brown that swirled with so much pulling you toward him. “Literally.”

“He’s got impeccable timing.”

“I was having the worst day, but he helped to turn it around.”

“And now you’re sitting here across from the asshole that ghosted you.” His scoff was subdued, but the distaste he felt about himself and the way things played out was obvious.

“I wasn’t trying to say that. I was trying to- you know what, just forget it. This is all so fucking stupid.” You reach for your bag, hands uncurling from around your own drink.  Frustration glowing hot in your chest as he took your words and twisted them. How dare he, you think, reeling from the whiplash of the man’s emotions across from you. You didn’t fault him for feeling things the way he did, but open communication means a lot to you. Honesty means a lot to you and he’s been terrible at both the past few interactions. “You really do know how to make an impression.”

“Shit, wait, please.” The desperation in his voice makes you pause, silent as you wait for him to continue, gauging the wideness to his eyes. He licks at his bottom lip, the pink of his tongue catching your attention far more than you want to admit. “I don’t…I’m not good at…people beyond my small circle.”

“We don’t have to talk like friends, Frankie. But we do have to respect each other as coworkers and share the hangar space if I get this job. If you don’t want to talk to me at all, I can deal with that. We can leave notes on a whiteboard or exchange emails about things that need to get done, no big deal. But I will be damned if whatever happened between us, or lack thereof, affects this opportunity.”

“That’s the last thing I want, Angel.” Frankie’s mouth is a firm line, his hands cupped around his pint glass once again, eyes focused on you and the determination settled in your expression. Almost as if he was grounding himself.

“I wouldn’t ignore you just because of how we met. I…I only regret letting my own shit taint what I thought was a good night after everything had turned around. How I’m letting it fuck this up now, I’m sorry, I know I’m not being the best right now. It’s been a long day, like you said.” You see him pause, one of his hands tensing so much that his knuckles pale. “I can work with you, I’m willing to work with you. We both deserve to do something we’ve got the skills for, I wouldn’t ruin that for you. Believe me.”

“Kinda hard to believe someone who wouldn’t even tell me about their own kid. But hey,” You down the last dredges in your own pint and move to stand up. “I’m just the girl you were trying to make feel welcome after two not so good interactions. You didn’t and don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You deserved the truth.” Frankie agrees, reaching for your arm just as you shoulder the strap to your bag. “You do deserve the truth. Let me- please let me drive you home. I can bring you back tomorrow, talk to Javier, the owner of the shop and get you a deal. I used to work there, I just…I don’t want you to think I didn’t have a good time, that I don’t-it’s me, I’m the problem. Not you, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Frankie,” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, a headache forming as the day progresses. You still really just wanted to curl up on your couch with take out. The greasy appetizers doing their best to fill your grumbling stomach, but the call of more food in the comfort of your home was strong. “I have no energy for this right now, my day has been shit. Can we just agree to…start over? We’re adults and I don’t want to dwell on things. Please?”

“Whatever you want, I swear it. Just- one last thing, just hear me out on one last thing and then I’ll shut up about it.”

“What is it, Frankie?” You don’t wave his hand off and he thankfully squeezes it in his grasp before stepping back. His shoulders square and he emphasizes with them when he speaks next, providing you with the answers to questions you had tumbled around in your head for days after your encounter at the grocery store.

“The reason I didn’t tell you about Ceci, my daughter, is because she gets attached to people very easily since her mother left us. I didn’t…it’s a lot to learn that someone you’re interested in has a kid, let alone a clingy one. I didn’t want it to be a deal breaker for you.”

“Kinda moot now, isn’t it?” You can’t help the hint of sarcasm that leaks into your tone, wanting for all the world to move past what if’s and maybe’s of how you first met each other. If you’re going to be working together, it’s better to start off fresh, to start off on a better foothold than the rickety one you two had been sharing up until this point.

He catches the way the corner of your mouth quirks up, the arch of one of your brows as you cross your arms and jut your head a bit to the side. Teasing, you’re teasing him and when he realizes his entire body relaxes.

“I mean, you’re the one who went out of their way to make amends for not one, but two terrible first encounters. So, I think you may have been a little more invested than I was, Mr. Morales.”

“With the way you were smiling and giggling, bet you were just as invested, querida.”

“Shut up and take me home, I need a mountain of Chinese food.” You can’t help the roll of your eyes as he matches your taunts, truly set on making things better and tiding over the insecurities of past interactions and lack there of. It’s tentative, your nerves alight even as a giddiness settles in just beneath your skin. The back and forth, the easy conversation flowing like it had once upon a time.

“I know a good place, we’ll look it up and place a to go order. Pick it up on the way.” He offers, seemingly willing to try and move forward as well. There’s a hesitancy behind his eyes that thaws your lingering anger and annoyance, the hurt that had bloomed from it.

“Yeah? You gonna pick up the tab?” You challenge, stepping closer to him as you do so. The setting of the bar and the chatter of the crowd melt away as he matches your step. He’s only inches away as he rests a hand on the top of the table, his head ducked down to focus on only you. The bill of his hat brushes your forehead and you feel a flash of warmth as the memory of his lips on your cheek suddenly bubbles up.

“Picked it up last time, why would this time be any different?” He’s smirking, the glint of his teeth behind his plush lips spurring butterflies to life in your middle.

God, why was it so easy to forgive him for the misunderstanding? Because now your body was alight with the giddy feeling of connection, just like it had been that night in the diner. You only hoped that you could keep it professional, keep it friendly. And how were you supposed to know that Frankie was wondering the exact same thing? His own mind racing as his heart beats wildly in his chest that things are finally changing and changing for the better.

Off to the side, the three remaining members of your little party are nursing their new pints. The second pitcher set on the table and left for you both as they started a game of pool.

“How much you wanna bet that’s gonna happen by the end of the month?” Benny’s wolfish smile influenced by his joy of games, though it stems from a place of genuine interest and want for his friend to find the happiness he had been lacking in his personal life.

“I bet it’s gonna take them two months, and one of them is gonna mistake it for being overly touchy- feely and back off again.” Santiago rises to the bait and offers his own idea of what will happen. He knows his best friend, the way things tend to play out. His past intertwined with is own. He thinks back on the past few years, since their collective return from South America. The strides they’ve all taken since then to be better, to actually make a difference and not fall victim to the endless cycle of not feeling good enough. Frankie deserved good things, a second chance at finding someone to share his life with, even if the man didn’t personally believe it.

“I think they’re gonna hit it off, become inseparable and then one of them is gonna get jealous that the other got asked out. That’s how these things typically go, don’t they?” Will chalks the end of his pool stick, eyes trained on you two standing far too close to each other and lost in your own little bubble. All three of them smiling and enjoying seeing Frankie truly relaxed for the first time in what feels like years.

“Either way, they have intoxicating energy. Makes me feel like I’m watching something I’m not supposed to.” Santiago claps his hands together before retrieving his phone from his back pocket. “Think it’s time to call my girl and see when her next night off is.”

They watched on as you both seemed to mess around on Frankie’s phone, fingers pointing at each other and easy laughter shared between you both. Mock frowns and the flash of tongues being teasingly stuck out at each other. They wondered what the conversation was, because when they walked away it looked nothing like it did now. Just as the phone is tucked back into a pocket, you’re both waving at the trio as you make your way to the door.

“I’d have that workplace conduct paperwork at the ready, brother. They’re gonna be trouble once they figure everything out, hell, maybe even as they figure everything out.” Shaking his head and chuckling, Will makes a mental note to stick a blank contract in each of your files tomorrow when he gets to work before going back to the game at hand.

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[osakanone]

"How realistic are mecha, really?": They aren't, but not for the reason you're thinking of or the one adjacent to it. Trust me.

Crossposted from reddit, since people seemed to like it. Like in the thread, I am very happy to answer questions about any esoteric weirdness.

Hold my beer. Again

They're not becoming a possibility. Yes. I know. This sucks. But stick around. Its not for the reasons you think. Well it is, but it also isn't. You'll see.

The robot needs the technology more than the technology needs a robot.

the technologies which the robot needs will improve and alter the doctrine of every other platform

This creates a doctrinal lock-in where the potential functional space for them to exist is unmet -- that they are so far ahead, that nothing new can emerge that isn't just other platforms becoming more generalized (eg, a post-stall recovery aircraft, or a helicopter with high impact landing-gear and a rigid rotor/jet engine design to act as a surface-fighter -- a tank which walks or manoeuvres like a robot is just flat out of the question: Tanks are made to be simple-as-fuck boxes which tank hits, and shoot and acquire asap and rumours of their deaths as a doctrinal weapon are exaggerated by recent events where obsolete weapons which aren't maintained properly who's crews aren't adequately trained were fighting very clever civilians with drones)

What you consider "realistic" (5th/6th) is just as if not more unrealistic than other gens purely because of their smaller size and very bizarre relationship with the environment -- they're just both too big, and too small to make sense, sitting in a size niche which is just very weird

If such a vehicle does exist, its going to be defined by its functions rather than a humanoid appearance

we know this because specialized platforms tend to beat tasked platforms historically until specialized platforms mature and become generalized enough for it to act as a force-multiplier (eg, your air to ground radar and datalink let you drop bombs smarter, or interfere with Ground-to-Air radar to defend yourself)

thus, the closest you're probably going to get is some weird variation of DARPA's Ground X Vehicle Project meeting with Gravity Industry' style mobility in limited cases, hybridized with smaller robots and wingsuits, which mix manoeuvring operation styles, with some rocker-boogie mechanism elements for terrain handling: It won't be humanoid, whatever it is.

This is assuming you can magically solve the square-cube law of volume-mass which is partially negatable with certain custom topologies exceeding graphene but actually manufacturing them would be miserable work probably not even be something you can make without microgravity

Energy flat out isn't solvable with what we know about right now. Nothing with that energy density can exist that isn't going to simultaneously make for an incredible fragile, dangerous and problematic source of power given the forces involved. Cooling is also a horrifyingly unsolvable problem on this scale, as is radiation management: You can't just dump molten tungsten in emergency cooling mode - you'll not only proceed to alert everybody who has even the vaguest IRST capacity to your position, but you'll also probably set fire to the environment and cook off your own ammunition. *

Motors aren't well suited to the tasks of such bodies (its like trying to make a slingshot out of dental floss), and we don't have an effective way to turn electricity into a form of motion which corresponds with the shock absorbing and motion control qualities which are actually desirable yet

Even if we did, the actual means of ensuring it doesn't fragment every time it moves don't exist. Every time an A10C fires its main gun, the fuel lines micro-fracture and have to be replaced after it lands. Metal, when you subject it to high physical forces ends up feeling and behaving closer to how you would think of glass. You'd need a material capable of repairing itself too, atop the quasicrystalline property which again, just isn't doable, let alone simultaneously.

So in terms of our mindset going into this?

Its... Probably not happening barring a very, VERY extreme change to how we understand physics to function, or some really kick ass (and actually entirely possible) changes in how engineering achieves outcomes (which could happen if the greatest threat to the mecha didn't exist)

Combat is moving towards information dominance. 

That's drone swarms, and role modularized long range travel, and the idea of fighter beyond-visual-range combat extending out to infared search and track systems which are networked to one another, which we're already seeing in singleton weapons and their mounting strategies even on the personal scale, which DARPA is currently investigating which everybody wants to mate with the gravity industries gear for boarding ops so the most likely avenue is to scale up from people, rather than scale down from vehicles as the development pathway -- but there's probably going to be multiple pathways with competing niches once the technology becomes cheap enough.

Costing

Ultimately its down to "how much money do I have to spend to defeat something more expensive than myself?" -- because our current structure of war is defined by cost, and by making the other guys surrender by using economic, and military violence (private, and publicly funded) instead of convincing them that we (NATO members, etc) have good opinions purely because of the natural benefits of "doing as we say" (which we see with basically any conflict in the last 70 years, which are usually feigned as ideological but pretty much always about disrupting market competition, dominating markets, or controlling a pressure position in another country to achieve those two things).

This isn't because they're particularly excellent weapons, but because they're cheap relative to the strength they offer, and how we define cheap is very different to how we defined cheap 100 years ago -- both in good, and terrible ways (such is the way of history).

Mecha are kinda the ultimate boondoggle. They are very very expensive, and just don't make sense.

They're cool as hell, yes.

But they don't make sense.

DISCLAIMER: If you're prone to depression, are dealing with a lot right now, or don't want your day ruining, you should stop reading NOW. What comes next is a psychosocial hazard and could be very bad for your mental health. LAST CHANCE . . .

The "real" reasons

If conflict some how became a meritocracy of leading by excellence rather than intimidation, and about human outcomes instead of cost outcomes, then things could change, but we don't live in that world.

Remember, violence exists to end human conflict (not to be confused with military conflict, which violence is the primary instrument of): Human conflict is when two parties oppose one another and communicate about what their goals and intentions are. Violence happens when communication stops. Communication stops, because parties cannot come to terms, or because nobody wants to be reasonable because the inherent request is unreasonable to the interests of the other party.

I'd love to say physics is the greatest threat, or maybe our concept of conflict but its not: * Its economics.

The concept of private-equity (not to be confused with venture-capital investment) is kiiiind of the dominant economic system on the face of the planet which dictates the interest of every nuclear power's actions against every non-nuclear power) is functionally dissolved, and investment models as we know them magically become better regulated OR a better economic system comes along which totally undermines private equity.

Its an economic finger-trap where most of the money that would be reinvested into people and technologies to push the world forward ends up getting swallowed up.

It also has private armies) and simulates the economy and political events in order to control them for maximum profitability. Yeah.)

We already live in Armored Core, folks.

And that economic system knows that if it gave free agents like ravens any kind of military power, it would functionally undermine itself, which is why it will never happen.

Private equity benefits from not having technology change, because its primary goal is wealth extraction. It leads to the collapse of every business you've ever seen go under, its why products undergo enshittification, which is coming for everything.

Its why the housing crisis happened, why the banking collapse happened, and its why there's an incentive to continue industrializing diseases like insulin instead of curing them.

tl;dr:

The one thing AC gets super wrong is you can either have the depressing relatable low-saturation late-stage hyper-capitalist dystopia where life is cheap on planet earth and everything terrible about South Korea times a thousand covers the whole world, and you need to have your own organs brought from you and leased back to you to lock you in to a lifetime of debt the same way everything else works...

OR

you can have the robot;

You can't have both.

e: I'd pick the robot any day

--

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I haven't edited this and I threw the original together in the space of around 40 minutes. Questions very welcome: I enjoy giving long detailed and substantiated answers.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reading my other work on the theoretical design factors of mecha, their control systems, and my fictional writing in mechposting.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Oliver Milman at The Guardian:

Rescuers by Saturday had begun the grim task of recovering the bodies of children who were swept away in a deadly flash flood in Texas, caused by a powerful storm that killed dozens of people. The exact number of missing people was not immediately known, but 24 of them were girls who had been attending Camp Mystic, a Christian summer camp along the Guadalupe River. Torrential rain caused the river to rise 26ft (8 meters) in just 45 minutes before dawn on Friday, washing away homes and vehicles. Some of the victims of the disaster have now been recovered and are being formally identified. One of the girls, Renee Smajstrla, who was nine years old, was confirmed to be among the dead by her uncle. “Renee has been found and while not the outcome we prayed for, the social media outreach likely assisted the first responders in helping to identify her so quickly,” Shawn Salta wrote on Facebook. “We are thankful she was with her friends and having the time of her life.” A number of camps were situated along the river for the Independence Day weekend, and up to 25 of about 750 campers remain unaccounted for, according to Larry Leitha, sheriff of Kerr county, who said that “catastrophic” rains had devastated the area, located to the north of San Antonio. Leitha said at least 27 people were confirmed dead, among them nine children. Authorities said about 850 people had been rescued, with roughly 400 people involved in the search-and-rescue operation.

Searchers used helicopters and drones to look for victims and rescue people stranded by flood waters. The confirmed death toll is almost certain to rise, although hopes remain that some of those affected will be found alive. “They could be in a tree, they could be out of communication,” said Dan Patrick, Texas’s lieutenant governor. “We are praying for all of those missing to be found alive.” The danger was not over as more heavy rains were expected Saturday, with flash flood warnings issued for parts of central Texas. “This is a PARTICULARLY DANGEROUS SITUATION,” the National Weather Service (NWS) warned in a bulletin. “SEEK HIGHER GROUND NOW!” Huge downpours like this are becoming more common around the world due to the climate crisis, with a warming atmosphere holding a greater amount of moisture. In eastern Texas, there has already been a 20% increase in the number of days with heavy rain or snow since 1900, with the intensity of extreme rain set to rise by another 10% in the next decade.

27 people killed and several dozens more missing due to the rapid swelling of the Guadalupe River in Texas, including Camp Mystic campers.

The cause of the flood is due to all the heavy rains that caused the river to rise 27’ in 45 minutes, no doubt at least in part to climate change.

See Also:

AP, via HuffPost: Desperate Search For Two Dozen Missing Girls From Summer Camp After Texas Floods Kill At Least 24

[lonestarflight]

Launch of Mercury-Atlas 2

Lift off of Mercury-Atlas 2 (MA-2) (Mercury Spacecraft No. 6/Atlas-67D) for it's suborbital test flight of the Mercury capsule, from Launch Complex 14, Cape Canaveral, Florida.

"MA-2 was a sub-orbital test vehicle launch to check maximum heating and its effects during the worst reentry design conditions. Its goals were to:

Determine the integrity of the spacecraft structure, ablation shield, and afterbody shingles for a reentry from a critical abort.

Evaluate the performance of the operating spacecraft systems during the entire flight.

Determine the spacecraft full-scale motions and afterbody heating rates during reentry from a critical abort.

Evaluate the compatibility of the spacecraft escape systems with the Mercury-Atlas system.

Establish the adequacy of the location and recovery procedures

Determine the closed-loop performance of the Abort Sensing and Implementation System (ASIS).

Determine the ability of the Atlas booster to release the Mercury spacecraft at the position, altitude, and velocity defined by the guidance equations

Evaluate the aerodynamic loading vibrational characteristics and structural integrity of the liquid oxygen boiloff valve, tank dome, spacecraft adapter, and associated structures.

The trajectory was designed to provide the most severe reentry heating conditions which could be encountered during an emergency abort during an orbital flight attempt. Prior to launch, the reentry heating rate of the trajectory was estimated to be 30% higher than a normal reentry and temperatures were predicted to be about 25% higher at certain locations on the afterbody of the spacecraft. In addition, the deceleration g-load was calculated to be about twice that expected for a normal reentry from orbit. The flight closely matched the desired trajectory, attaining a maximum velocity of just over 21,000 km/hour and an altitude of about 185 km. The spacecraft came down in the Atlantic Ocean some 2,300 km down range. Total flight time was 17 minutes 56 seconds."

Date: February 21, 1961

San Diego Air and Space Museum Archive: 43332705, 43332742, 43332680, 40978116, 44401412

NASA ID: ATLAS2, S61-01226, S61-1654, MERCA2

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 10 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Luke has a heart to heart with Emily. Spencer takes you on a little trip where you both come to an understanding before he takes a serious step on the road to his recovery.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - mentions of sexual assault and use the term “rape”, tears, dissociation, blood, self harm, making out, swearing, detailed therapy, medication. WC - 6.6k

Chapter 10 - Back in the Saddle Again

“Tell me everything you know.” Luke spoke in hushed tones into his cell phone as he hid over the back of the San Antonio Police Department.

Over the swell of people coming and going, phones ringing off their hooks and keyboards clacking, he heard Phil sigh.

“I don’t really know much at all, Alvez.” Phil’s tone was laced with his frustration. “She stole a car in New York after her escape, it was found abandoned down your neck of the woods, just outside of Richmond. But from there…man I don’t know. I can only assume she must have gotten her hands on another vehicle but there weren’t any reported stolen within a fifty mile radius. 

“If she’s smart she would have headed for Mexico. But if she did that’ll make finding her that much harder. We know she had money after her first escape, we found the empty safe at mom’s house. She must have known I was close when I apprehended her and stashed it somewhere, so we have to assume she has it again. There have been no sightings of her for the last few days and you know as well as I do that without sightings, there’s nothing I can do.” 

“I wish I could help.” Luke pushed the fingers of his free hand against his temple. “But with the whole network thing we’re swamped. Not to mention we’re short on the ground. I want to be kept in the loop though. If you hear anything…”

“Of course, of course.” Phil agreed. “Knowing how she operates she’s probably worked her magic on some poor, unexpected sap who’s taken pity on her. Her face is plastered everywhere up and down the country. Someone has to recognise her.” 

“If she’s in some small Mexican town, hell if she’s in some small American town, those kinds of things don’t reach everyone.” Luke continued kneading his temple aggressively. “I hate this, I hate feeling so powerless.” 

“We’ll get her Alvez. It might not be today or tomorrow, hell it might not even be this year. But we will get her.” Phil sounded determined and it was one of the things Luke admired most about his old partner.

Even after all he’d been through with Daniel Cullen, even after his rehabilitation had almost destroyed his spirit entirely, he was one determined son of a bitch. 

“Keep me posted.” Luke replied before hanging up the phone.

He turned away from the corner wall he’d been staring at, ready to rejoin the team but a set of hauntingly intense dark eyes full of irritation were staring back at him.

She had her arms folded over her chest, her greying hair tied back into a ponytail which made her features appear more stern.

“So it’s true, you are working your own cases?” Emily clucked, tilting her head at him.

“Does Garcia ever keep her mouth shut?” Luke scoffed. “It’s just an old case from back in my FTF days, I’m sorry.” 

Emily softened slightly, dropping her arms to her sides with a huffed out breath. She quipped her head to the left.

“Walk with me.” She said before she was already leaving.

Luke quickly followed, falling into step with her. He walked with her until they reached the doors of the precinct. She shoved it open and the two stepped outside into the blistering, humid Texan heat. 

She stopped on the pavement a few feet away from the door and once again folded her arms across her chest. 

“Is this affecting your ability to be an effective member of this team?” She asked him outright.

“No.” He shook his head, jaw set. “Just some unfinished business is all.” 

“She got under your skin?” She narrowed her eyes on him, profiling him. 

“They all do.” Luke’s jaw tensed. “But yeah, I supposed she did more than most. She had everyone falling at her feet, treating her with kid gloves. Everyone seemed to forget the fact she murdered a guy. We got close to her, I’m sure we did, right before I got the call from Hotch to help out the BAU. 

“We got a tip that she’d been seen in this tiny little town of Magnolia Springs, Alabama. A guy reported he’d seen a person matching her description coming and going from his neighbours house. Someone musta tipped her off because when we arrived she was gone and the woman whose house she was supposedly staying in wasn’t talking. 

“I felt her, Emily, she was close, so close. But she slipped out of my reach. And then I joined the BAU and I wasn’t able to be there when Phil finally caught up to her. I wanted to be the one to arrest her, I don’t know why. She got to me and I have no idea why, but the thought of her escaping again is eating me up inside. And now we’re here, in Texas of all places and I…I just…” He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat. 

He coughed to try and dislodge it, rubbed his hand up and down his neck. Emily once again let her arms fall from their folded position and her shoulders slumped a little. 

“We’re right on his doorstep. Practically in his backyard.” She smiled despondently. 

She didn’t need to say his name, saying his name in fact might make matters worse. But she knew Luke understood who she meant. In truth, as soon as she’d gotten the call to come out here she had thought of Spencer. And if she was thinking about him, Luke most definitely was. 

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I wish it wasn’t still this…hard, you know? Two years and I still feel like it was yesterday you were telling us he left.” 

“You never got closure.” Emily shrugged, sucking in a breath. “It’s hard to move on without it. It's like a book with its end pages missing. You just keep flicking through it and hoping they will appear. There was no end for you and him, not a fleshed out one anyway. One day it was and the next it simply wasn’t.” 

“I know the rest of the team didn’t see his medical reports from Milburn but as Unit Chief, I imagine you had to?” He straightened his back. 

They’d never talked about it, there was no reason to. It wouldn’t have undone what Spencer had to endure and so they just didn’t talk about it. Maybe it was to protect Spencer’s autonomy, or maybe it was to protect themselves from it. 

Emily closed her eyes for a few seconds and nodded her head stiffly.

“Yeah, I had to read them. Unfortunately it’s part of the job. Why did you read them?” 

“He wouldn’t talk to me.” Luke shook his head. “He wouldn’t talk to me and I knew I was missing something. I had to know. Although I wish I didn’t.” 

“Palatal petechiae, indicative of forced oral sex.” Emily’s eyes welled with unshed tears as she said it out loud. “It’s a form of rape.”

Luke visibly crumbled as she spoke the word, the one word he’d tried to keep out of his head for all these years. 

But that’s what it was. Spencer had been raped, probably repeatedly. And Luke had turned his back on him. 

He slumped against the wall to keep himself balanced, the weight of Emily’s words crashing into him and forcing all the air from his lungs. 

His head was pounding. He felt his stomach turn violently. 

“I broke up with him. He was struggling through an immense amount of trauma, a trauma I knew he suffered and I still broke up with him. What kind of a person does that?” His voice cracked. 

“He didn’t want your help, Luke. He didn’t want anyone’s help. You know Reid as well as I do, probably better, and you know he was never going to admit what happened to him. He’s too proud. He’s a protector, he’s spent his entire adult life in that role. He speaks for the people who can’t speak for themselves. But when something like that happens to him, he feels he has no one to speak for him.” 

“I would have.” Luke swallowed. “I would have done anything for him.” 

“I’m sure deep down he knows that.” Emily took a step closer and gripped Luke’s shoulder tightly. He needed grounding. “But he is one of the most stubborn people I have ever met and if he thinks he can get through this on his own, that’s what he’ll do. We need to let him figure this out however he sees fit.” 

“I thought he’d come back.” A tear escaped his eye and he was quick to bat it away. “I thought he’d take some time but that he’d come back. I deluded myself into thinking that one day he’d just show up and we could pick up where we left off. I still love him, Em. I still love him with every goddamn beat of my heart.”

Emily’s fingers coiled into his shoulder blade, kneading his tense muscle in her hand. 

“We’re really short on the ground and this case is a matter of urgency.” She spoke but Luke’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “But once we’re wrapped up here, whenever that might be, I think you owe yourself a vacation day. Bandera is only forty something miles from here. And I hear it’s lovely this time of year.” 

Luke’s lip quivered in understanding and he melted into her touch.

“You’re sure?” 

“I mean you’ll have to clear it with Rossi as he’s your Unit Chief but I can’t foresee it being an issue. And if I remember rightly, it’s Reid’s birthday soon, Garcia is already working on overnighting a bunch of gifts out here. It would be good if someone could give them to him.” She smiled sadly, letting go of his shoulder and taking a step backwards. 

Luke closed his eyes briefly to stem any more tears, nodding his head in thanks at his old boss and feeling a swell of emotion in that moment. 

Emily was surprised to say the least when Luke suddenly engulfed her in a tight embrace. Her arms hovered at her sides for a few seconds, while she comprehended what was happening. 

In all the years she’d know Luke Alvez, she didn’t think he’d ever hugged her before. 

When he started shaking against her, sobbing into her shoulder, she wrapped him in her arms, and held him. 

She gave him a few minutes, allowed him a brief window in which he could let himself feel the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for two years. 

Emily Prentiss was the FBI Section Chief, but that was the secondary facet of her personality. Above all else, Emily was a friend. And a damn good one at that. 

***

You heard him coming before you saw him, noting his gait was faster than you’d grown accustomed to. He didn’t sound as though he was limping too much this morning, at least he was starting to heal.

You had your back to him and kept it that way, hoping if you didn’t engage him he may well leave you alone. 

But you had no such luck.

“What the hell are you doing?” The irritation in his voice was ripe. 

You swallowed thickly before tugging lightly on Rusty’s rein to turn her about to face him. You commanded the flaxen mare to trot closer to where Spencer stood glaring at you on the other side of the enclosure. 

“I mean, I think it’s pretty clear what I’m doing.” You huffed as you got closer. “I'm riding my horse.” 

“You’ve had two lessons. Do you know how dangerous it is to ride without supervision?” He spat, unlocking the gate and stepping inside the fenced area. “Get down.” 

“No.” You scoffed. “I’m fine. You said it yourself, I’m a natural.” 

“For the love of god, you are going to be the death of me.” He shook his head, rubbing his brow beneath his stetson. 

“I’ll feed you to Rusty when that happens.” You smirked sarcastically. 

“We need to talk.” He exhaled, not at all sounding like that was something he wanted to do.

“I’m good.” You shook your head. 

“It wasn’t a question. We need to talk.” He glanced around the area and only really registered for the first time all four of the horses were grazing in the field. “Why are my horses out here?”

“So I could clean the stable.” You shrugged, patting Rusty’s neck. “I refilled their troughs, got them fresh water. Even cleaned out the cattle barn.” 

Spencer’s brows pinched as he looked up at you. 

“It’s eight am, how long have you been up?” 

“Never went to sleep.” You shrugged again. 

The look you gave him told him it was his fault you hadn’t slept. In truth he hadn’t either. 

He came around from his dissociation still on his bathroom floor as though he hadn’t moved but clearly at some point he must have because he had the razor in his hands. 

He was bleeding from a self-inflicted wound on his stomach, just left of his belly button. Once again he’d patched himself up with the use of butterfly stitches and stuck a large gauze pad over the wound.

After that he couldn’t sleep, just sat up staring at the wall thinking about where his life went so drastically wrong. 

Three times now he’d dissociated in startlingly quick succession. Three times he’d come to with unintentional cuts on his body. He was starting to scare himself if truth be told. Perhaps he needed to consider seeking out his old therapist and getting a higher dosage of his medication.

“Can we…take a ride or something?” He spoke again, voice cracking. 

“Should you be riding?” You frowned at him. 

“My leg is feeling something akin to normal again. It's the least pain I’ve been in anyway. The doctor told me I could ride again when I felt ready. And there’s somewhere I’d like to show you.” 

“Fine,” you huffed out a breath so he knew you weren’t thrilled by the idea. 

“Super, just let me grab Willow’s saddle. Oh, could you maybe help get Frank and Wilbur back to the stable?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“You’re taking Willow?” Your brows furrowed.

“Yeah?” He returned your expression.

“And I’m taking Rusty.” 

“Again, yeah?” 

“Have you forgotten that they hate each other?” You glared at him.

“It’s a long trek to where I want to take you and Willow is the only one strong enough and determined enough to make it there and back. Frank or Wilbur would not be able to handle it.” He shrugged.

“Can Rusty handle it?” You looked down at the mare between your legs who was eyeing Spencer warily. 

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” He chuckled, but there was a nervousness to his tone.

Soon though he was meandering over towards Wilbur, ready to take him back down to the stable. And without another word you turned Rusty around again and went about helping him.

***

Medina Lake wasn’t just a trek away as Spencer had put it. It was located nearly twenty miles south of Bandera, on the other side of Lakehills. It was a crescent shaped reservoir on the Medina River, eighteen miles wide at its broadest point and contained by the Medina Dam at the lakes south end. 

Spencer told you all about it as you rode together, giving Willow and Rusty enough space so as they wouldn’t cause another incident like the one that had broken Spencer’s arm. 

Apparently at the time of its construction, it was the largest concrete dam in the country, and fourth largest in the world. He told you that the dam was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. 

As you barely spoke in reply, Spencer continued. He went on to tell you that Medina Lake had been stocked with species of fish intended to improve the reservoir for recreational fishing. He listed largemouth bass, white bass, hybrid striped bass, catfish and carp among the species found in the lake.

But he didn’t stop there. 

He continued to fill the dead air between you by telling you about the state of the lake. According to Spencer as part of the 2010 to 2013 Southern United States drought, the lake water levels dropped below five percent capacity. As a result he told you many cracks, oil drums and a Jeep are visible due to the low water level. 

He continued with telling you that thanks to some showers in the summer of 2013 the lake levels had risen to five point two percent. But many businesses had been closed, many residents left and Lakehills had been somewhat of a ghost town ever since. 

He still carried on, despite your obvious lack of interest. Going on to tell you with an almost excited flurry, that due to heavy rainfall in the region, as of May 2015 the levels rose to forty six percent. And again due to more heavy rain, by May 2016 the lake was at one hundred percent capacity. He went to continue but by this point you held up a silencing hand. 

“I can’t, Spencer. Please? Please just stop talking for five minutes?” 

He’d huffed but yet he didn’t speak again for the rest of the journey. 

He took you all the way down to Bandera County Medina Lake Park. He paid the twenty dollar fee for you both to enter. He led you and Rusty down to a quiet alcove away from the flood of tourists. 

He found some hitching posts where you tied up your steeds, keeping enough distance between them so they couldn’t bother one another. 

Spencer couldn’t deny that his thigh was causing him aggravation by this point and his knee ached dully. You could tell by the grimace on his face that he was struggling but didn’t say anything. 

As much as you hated to admit it, the place was stunning. It combined the natural beauty of the Texas Hill Country with a picturesque watery wonderland. People in the distance were on the lake swimming, riding jet-skis and other boats. Some people on land had BBQ’s, picnics and the like. 

Spencer led you down towards the lakes edge, still ensuring to have a clear view of your two mares at the top of the bank. He found a secluded spot, away from other lake goers so the two of you could be alone. 

You took a seat on the ground, stretching your legs out in front of you and groaning a little at the chafing in your thighs from the long ride. The water was clear and the sun above caused it to sparkle. In this heat it looked positively intoxicating. 

Spencer removed his denim shirt, his black t-shirt underneath marked with sweat stains under the pits and around the collar. He lowered his stetson over his eyes to keep the sun out of them. 

Neither of you spoke for some time. Far off you could hear the sounds of other people splashing in the lake, laughing and having fun. Behind you could make out Rusty snuffling around in the grass. 

If you focused in front of you, you could easily believe that you and Spencer were the only two people in the world. Perhaps that was why he brought you here in the first place. 

After long stretches of uncomfortable silence, Spencer huffed from beside you and forced himself to speak. 

“We need to talk about last night.” He saw your back straighten at his words but you didn’t even so much as look at him. “I promise you, it had nothing to do with you. I don’t even have the words to describe what it was like for me getting to be with you like that, getting to make you feel like that. But, uh, after I…completed, my thoughts went into overdrive and I panicked. 

“I don’t know how to explain it other than that I’m not well. Mentally I am extremely sick. I told you last night that I need to test my boundaries, and I guess I pushed them a little farther than I was ready for. I really am sorry, Y/N. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you.” 

The sincerity in his voice caused you to turn your head to the side and look at him. His eyes were full of uncertainty, fear and mild terror. You could see he had a heavy weight upon him and that talking about this wasn’t easy for him.

“Am I just some kind of experiment to you, Spencer? I don’t mind helping you get over whatever it is that happened to you, but if all I am to you is a test subject, please let me know before I get in over my head here.” You hated how sorry for yourself you sounded.

“You are so much more to me than that.” He frowned, shocked you would even suggest that. “But I suppose in a way, this is experimental to me. I have no idea how I’m going to react to any given situation of intimacy until I’m right in the middle of it. But please believe me when I say I would not be able to have even considered this kind of relationship with anyone else. Because of you, I’ve managed to actually maintain an erection long enough to orgasm, twice. That hasn’t happened to me in nearly four years.” His cheeks flushed in candour. 

“If it offers you any kind of comfort, last night was the first time I’ve been with a man in almost two years. And it’s the first time I have ever come by someone else's hand other than my own.” Your own cheeks reddened at your confession.

“Oh,” Spencer’s voice shot up several octaves. “Oh.” 

“To be perfectly honest with you Spencer, had the opportunity presented itself, I would have jumped you that first night we met. And I can’t pretend that I don’t want more out of this, but I am not going to push you if you’re not ready. I think if we are going to continue whatever this is, we just have to take things slowly. Like at a snail's pace.” You tucked your hair behind your ears, feeling perspiration gathering on your brow. 

“Agreed,” he nodded. “I do want to move past this. I want to be able to give you every part of myself. It's just going to take some time.” He smiled meekly. 

“I got nothing but time.” You smiled back. 

Spencer chuckled a little, shuffling closer to you in the dirt. You felt your breath hitch as he got nearer. 

“Would kissing you be entirely out of the question right now?” He rolled his lip between his teeth in his scepticism. 

“Not entirely out of the question, no.” You shook your head. 

The easiest thing to do would be to put space between you and Spencer, draw a line in the sand and remain strictly as friends. But you never did make a habit of travelling the path of least resistance. 

He leaned closer, removing his stetson and dropping it down next to him. And then his hand moved to cup your cheek, fingers brushing lightly across your skin. He pressed his lips to yours cautiously at first but within a second or two he got carried away.

His tongue brushed along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him to gain entrance. His hand weaved into your hair, fingers burying in your locks. You kissed him back with as much passion as he showed you. 

You brought your own hands to his face, holding him close. With his grip in your hair he tugged you a little, trying to convey that he needed you nearer. 

Keeping your lips attached you shuffled so you were straddling him, knees resting either side of his thighs. The fingers peeking out from his cast brushed along your back, under the hem of your shirt. You moved your own hands to his shoulders to keep yourself balanced. 

It wasn’t long before you lowered yourself into his lap and your hips undulated against his crotch. He moaned into your mouth and gripped your hair tighter as you felt a stirring in his pants. 

He started moving backwards, bringing you with him until you were laying on top of him. But when your full weight was flush against him, he suddenly pulled away from your lips and growled in pain. 

“What’s wrong?” You panted, sitting back a little as his face contorted. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m sorry…I did something dumb.” 

Frowning, you rolled off of him and knelt next to him while he cautiously rolled up the hem of his t-shirt to reveal the large band aid across the left side of his stomach. 

“You dissociated again?” You whimpered. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, rolling his shirt back down and sitting up. “And please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault.” 

“I noticed last night you had a bandage on your thigh. Was that…?”

“Self-inflicted? Yes.” He rubbed one eye. “I’ve never hurt myself like that outside of those dissociative states. My brain is extremely fucked in many, many ways but I am not suicidal or anything like that.”

“Do you ever remember anything from those states?” You found yourself asking. 

“It’s hazy.” He sighed. “And I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. I can recall messy pieces sometimes, but it’s not clear. It’s like I’m watching myself, like an out of body experience. I’m completely disconnected from my own mind, my own body. Its fucking terrifying. And I don’t know how to stop it.” 

“You said you’d been to therapy before?” You asked softly.

“Twice.” He nodded. “Once back in DC, and once again when I moved here. Before you say anything, I am aware I need to go back. I guess I at least get to tell her the good news that my dick seems to be working again. Now we’ve just gotta focus on stopping me from having a panic attack, crying or dissociating after I come.” 

You glared at him and the candid nature in which he spoke. His lip quirked at the corner and then surprisingly he started to laugh. You just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You’ve got to laugh, it’s so absurd.” He chuckled, probably the most you’d heard him laugh before. “I’m a fucking basket case, it’s okay to laugh. If I don’t laugh I’ll…”

“Dissociate?” You quipped back. 

“Exactly.” He laughed harder, amused tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Oh god I’m a mess.” 

His laugh was infectious and you found yourself joining in despite yourself. It really wasn’t at all funny but sometimes you had to laugh in the face of extreme adversity or you would crumble. 

The two of you sat by the lakes edge laughing until you were crying, crying until you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t until the laughter subsided that you realised Spencer was holding your hand. 

It grew quiet again and he simply stared at you, clutching your hand in his own. You reached forward tentatively with your other hand, waiting for his okay in the form of a nod before you touched him. 

You gently wiped his tears from his cheeks and he hummed at your feather light caress. For a few minutes you stayed like this until you were ripped apart by the sound of content neighing from behind you. 

You sprung apart as though burned and you both looked up towards your horses who had managed to manoeuvre themselves closer together. 

It was hard to say who was more surprised by the sight of Willow amicably nuzzling her face against Rusty’s.  

“Are they…?” 

“Making friends.” Spencer nodded with a smile. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” You smiled too.

“That horse of yours has some kind of magic about her.” Spencer sighed wistfully, leaning closer to you again. “Just like you.” 

And when he kissed you again, you were certain that it was him and not you who was magic. 

***

Doctor Camilla Ortega was a local therapist who specialised in anxiety, depression, trauma and PTSD. Her practice was in Pipe Creek but she had clinic hours out of the Essential Mental Wellness centre right in Bandera town once a week. 

Spencer didn’t know if he was fortunate or not that she happened to be able to fit him in the very next day. 

It had been some year and a half since he last sat in her office and was overcome with anxiety just being here. He ran his fingers over his cast, back and forth, back and forth, trying to remain tethered long enough to be able to speak.

She was probably less than ten years Spencer’s senior, with sharp green eyes and a discerning stare. She had a resting bitch face if Spencer had ever seen one, but she was surprisingly soft spoken and had a contrasting calmness about her. 

“It’s good to see you again, Spencer. Although I can only assume the reason you’ve come to see me again means that you’re not doing so well?” She narrowed her eyes on him.

“Not exactly, no.” He admitted. 

He didn’t want to open up about this but he also didn’t want to have to be visiting her every week. The quicker he got this out, the less time he might have to spend on her couch. 

“I met someone.” He blurted out, eyes trained just above her head so he didn’t have to look at her. “I met someone and she’s incredible but I can’t…I still can’t take that next step.” 

Doctor Ortega was silent for a beat or two, mulling over his words briefly. 

“Have you initiated any form of intimacy thus far?” She jumped right in. 

“I, uh, I still can’t let her touch me and we haven’t had intercourse. But we kissed and, uh, I touched her. And I have gotten…erect. Twice. And uh, I also reached completion twice.” His cheeks and neck flushed red. God how he hated talking about this. 

“Without penile stimulation?” 

His face scrunched up and he nodded reluctantly. 

“And how did you feel after?” She prodded. 

“Well, uh, the first time I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom. The second time I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom, cried and vomited and then dissociated.” He forced the words out rapidly. “Typical stuff.” 

Ortega sucked in a breath and he heard her scrawling some notes down. 

“You hadn’t had a dissociative break in a while last time I saw you, isn’t that correct?” 

“Yes. But I’ve had three as of late.” He spoke but then continued. “It’s not her fault. I just…I can’t allow myself to enjoy being aroused without hearing their voices.” 

He didn’t need to divulge anymore than that, she knew who he meant. 

“Does she know what you suffered in prison? Have you spoken to her about it?” Doctor Ortega asked gently.

“No,” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t look at me the same.”

“How do you think she would look at you if she knew?” 

Spencer’s eyes flit to the doctor, his brows pinched together tightly. 

“Like I’m broken.” He said as though it was obvious. “Like I’m dirty.” 

Doctor Ortega put her pen down and laced her fingers together, sitting further forward in her chair. 

“Spencer, that is not how other people look at you. That is how you view yourself. Unfortunately it is a common sentiment in rape survivors to feel this way, like they are of no good to anyone, unworthy of affection. I think you would be surprised how she would react if you were just honest with her.” Doctor Ortega’s eyes were piercing into him. 

“I’m not telling her and that is the end of it.” He shook his head. “I just want to know how to move past this. It’s been nearly four years and I don’t feel any closer to getting over what happened to me now than I did then.” 

“Spencer, that’s not true.” She offered him a soft smile. “Eighteen months ago when I last saw you, you couldn’t even go on a date with someone. But now you’ve not only met someone but you have opened yourself up to intimacy again, even if it isn’t going as you planned. I for one am proud of how far you’ve come, I think you should be too.” 

“Proud?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I should be proud that I can’t come without being so overwhelmed with guilt that my brain has to divorce itself just to cope? I should be proud that I managed to bring her to orgasm before I had a complete mental breakdown which ended in me cutting myself? I should be goddamn proud that I can’t have sex with a wonderful, beautiful woman because I am so utterly broken that I can stop hearing the voices, seeing the faces of my rapists? Proud? Are you fucking kidding me!” He was on his feet, he didn’t remember standing up. 

The rage bubble was expanding, filling, moving higher up to his chest. His vision blurred and he wobbled on his feet. 

Here we fucking go, was his last coherent thought before the world around him became shrouded in darkness.

***

He blinked several times, sitting up with a start. His heart was racing and his breathing was heavy. He glanced around the nondescript room through hazy eyes, trying to work out where he was.

He detected movement in the corner of his vision, a body edging closer until they were right in front of him, dropping to a crouch so their eyelines could meet. Doctor Ortega smiled sadly at Spencer as she held his gaze. 

“Are you okay?” She spoke softly and then something was being placed in his hand. 

He looked down to see the plastic cup of water he now held and quickly tossed it back.

“How long was I out?” He croaked despite the hydration.

“Only about ten minutes.” She pushed herself to stand but came and sat next to him on the couch. “Do you remember anything?” 

“No.” He shook his head. 

“You wanted to hurt yourself. You asked me several times to give you something sharp.” Ortega’s voice was a little strained. Spencer shook his head. “And you were yelling that you weren’t whole.” 

“Makes sense.” He grumbled. “I found a note you had me write myself, for my guided self talk.” And then he spoke verbatim. “I was sexually assaulted, but I am not a victim. I was coerced but I am not weak. I am in control of my own body, of my own mind. I will not let them win, I will not let them ruin my life. I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I am a good person. I am a strong person. I will move past this. I won't let them break me. I am still worthy of love and affection. I am still whole. I am still whole.”

“But you don’t believe a word of it.” She stated.

“No.” He agreed. “How the fuck can I still be whole when they took such a large piece of me?” 

He looked at her pleadingly as though she had all the answers. As if there was one thing she could say which would be the key to his recovery. Of course there was no such thing and he knew that. But he needed something, anything. 

“They only took from you what you let them take. What those men did to you was traumatic but you are the one in control of your own reactions to that trauma. You have let them take up this space in your brain for the last four years and every time you let them win, they grow and grow. The only way you are ever going to get over what happened to you is by persevering and I know that’s not the answer you’re looking for, but it's the truth. 

“I know you don’t see it but you have taken huge strides since the last time I saw you. You may keep experiencing this guilt during intimate moments but it will not last forever. I think you need to continue doing what you’re doing, putting yourself in scary situations and seeing how you react to them. Next time your experience will probably be much the same, and no doubt the time after that too. 

“But eventually, and I can promise you this, eventually you will be able to push yourself further without repercussions. You will find one day you are able to give yourself over completely to this woman and what happened to you will be the furthest thing from your mind. The reason you are still struggling so much after all this time is because you couldn’t put yourself back out there. And although this seems terrifying, I can assure it is the first step towards healing. And I’m proud of you whether you like it or not.” 

Spencer was crying by the time she finished speaking and he was nodding his head slowly in understanding. Perhaps she was right, perhaps now he was allowing himself to get close to someone he would eventually be able to move past this. 

It might get a hell of a lot harder before it gets any better, but if he didn’t keep pushing through he would be at square one forever. Like anything in life worth having, it was going to be difficult, but for the first time he believed it might actually be possible. 

“Th-thank you.” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I think I needed to hear that.” 

“I do believe you can get better, Spencer and I don’t think you need my help to do that. I’ve given you all the tools, you have to be willing to put in the work now.” She pushed herself up and made her way across to her desk. “That being said, I would like to up your dosage of paroxetine just a little. And I want you to make a concerted effort to remember your grounding exercises when you feel a dissociative episode coming on.” 

“I’ll try.” He nodded in agreement. 

A few minutes later he was leaving with a new prescription, sore eyes and a new perspective on his situation. 

He found you in the driver’s seat of your car, thumbing through a book he recognised from his own collection. You closed it when the door opened and smiled softly at him. 

“How did it go?” You asked as he slid into the passenger’s seat. 

Spencer didn’t reply. He was too exhausted to speak. Instead he leaned across the central console and smashed his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise and he edged his tongue into your mouth. 

The kiss only lasted a minute or so but it was more charged than any kiss you’d ever shared before. When he pulled back, you were looking at him in shock.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” You chuckled a little. 

“A thank you, I guess.” He shrugged. “It might not seem like it but I am making progress. And I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Your eyes welled at his sentiment and without thinking about it you reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

And it wasn’t lost on either of you that for the first time, he didn’t flinch at your unexpected touch. 

@kalulakunundrum @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

[townpostin]

Police Bust Motorcycle Theft Gang In Sakchi, Recover Five Vehicles

Four Suspects Arrested Following Months-Long Investigation SP Rishab Garg hails operation as significant victory against organized crime. JAMSHEDPUR – The Sakchi Police have successfully apprehended four individuals who are part of a well-known gang involved in motorcycle theft. As a result of their efforts, they were able to recover a total of five stolen vehicles, marking a significant…

[todaysdocument]

Position Description for Mercury Astronaut

Record Group 255: Records of the National Aeronautics and Space AdministrationSeries: Reference Files of the Special Assistant

[underline] SS - 6.3 [/underline] [Stamped: Space Task Group] B

NATIONAL AERONAUTICS AND SPACE ADMINISTRATION

1520 H STREET NORTHWEST

WASHINGTON 25, D.C.

TELEPHONE: EXecutive 3-3260, TW: WA 755

IN REPLY REFER TO -

[Stamped: RECEIVED NASA SPACE TASK GROUP JUN 19 2 01PM '59]

[manuscript] 3

[underline] S S- 6.3 [/underline]

SO-14

SP - 2.6 [/manuscript]

Lt. Paul P. Bennett, Jr.

BuPers - A3122

Arlington Annex, Rm. 2603

Washington 25, D. C.

Dear Lt. Bennett:

In accordance with our telephone conversation of June 15 the following is a resume of the position description for the Mercury Astronauts.

[underline] Position Title [/underline]: Mercury Astronaut

[underline] Duties [/underline]: Participates in indoctrination, developmental research, and pre-flight training programs under conditions simulating flight profiles of the type expected to be encountered with Project Mercury. Operates and/or observes fixed-base and moving-base simulator tests, serves as subject-under-test, and assists in the analysis of data for the evaluation and development of various boosters and of communication telemetry, display, vehicle-contol, envirornmental-control and other systems involved in launch, atmospheric escape, orbital flight, re-entry, landing and recovery. Participates in specialized training exercises such as centrifuge programs to build up tolerances to motions and forces associated with launch, flight without gravity, and atmospheric reentry, and to develop proficiency and confidence for vehicle operation under such conditions.

Sincerely yours,

/s/

Clotaire Wood

Technical Assistant to the Deputy Administrator

[Stamped Routing List]

BLAND

BOND

DONLAN

FAGET

GILRUTH

HAMMACK

JOHNSON [initialed: lwj]

KRAFT

KYLE

MacDOUGALL

MATHEWS

MAYER

MEYER

PRESTON

PURSER

RICKER

[strikethrough] TAYLOR [/strikethrough] [initialed: G]

ZAVASKY

ZIMMERMAN

AERO MED [initialed: HBf]

[initials: ATS]

SPACE FILES

[manuscript] COPIES TO:

SHEPARD

SCHIRRA

CARPENTER

GLENN

[may--hawk]

Like a Song on a Policeman's Radio (4/4) [Disco Elysium]

Summary:

Radios, recovery, and romance. Or, Harry starts listening to the radio. It gives him something to hold onto. (And maybe discovers the lost island of Atlantide while he’s at it.) Featuring: WEATHER FM, SAD FM, MIRRORBALL FM, and SPEEDFREAKS FM

CHAPTER FOUR: SPEEDFREAKS FM:

Driving lessons. Speed Freak Du Bois. Party-eye Kim. A message from Atlantide.

KIM KITSURAGI: “From what I have seen, you are not a bad driver. You may have been-”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Drunk. High.

INLAND EMPIRE: Damn near suicidal.

KIM KITSURAGI: “-reckless in the past, but I’m confident you will not be so now.”

EMPATHY: Not with me in the car, he thinks.

INLAND EMPIRE: Oh, fuck, did he really just-

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit. So this is what it feels to be can-opened.

YOU: “I’m an animal, Kim.” Your voice cracks. “Animals shouldn’t operate vehicles.”

KIM KITSURAGI: Something twitches in his jaw. “I once saw a bear riding a tricycle.”

YOU: “You think I’m a bear?”

KIM KITSURAGI: A half-smile. He’s hysterical inside. “Yes. Very much so. Listen - you will be fine. I promise you. Whatever you dreamed about will not happen. Okay?”

LOGIC: That’s because it already has.

VOLITION: You can do better, this time.

YOU: You swallow and nod. “Okay,” you say.

KIM KITSURAGI: He smiles, then.

YOU: You get in behind the levers of the Kineema. Your hands sweat on the grips. You take a deep breath.

KIM KITSURAGI: “Detective.”

YOU: You look at him.

KIM KITSURAGI: Another smile. Lieutenant smiles today. “I’m right here.”

YOU: You release your breath, and you drive.

Read the rest on AO3.

[historyforfuture]

🚨 One month of ongoing ethnic cleansing and genocide by the Israeli occupation forces on the northern Gaza Strip, resulting in over 1,800 martyrs, 4,000 injured, and widespread destruction of hospitals and infrastructure.

For an entire month, the Israeli occupation forces have continued their intense and multifaceted land, air, and sea aggression on the northern Gaza Strip, targeting Jabalia camp, Jabalia city, Jabalia Nazla, Beit Lahia, Beit Lahia project, Beit Hanoun, and the surrounding areas. This relentless assault has claimed the lives of over 1,800 people, wounded 4,000, left hundreds missing, and caused the complete destruction of all hospitals in northern Gaza, rendering them non-operational. Civil defense teams have also been targeted, with some personnel arrested, leaving these services crippled. Additionally, essential infrastructure, including water networks, sewage systems, roads, and streets, has been destroyed, turning northern Gaza into a fully devastated area in every sense of the word.

This brutal and barbaric assault by the Israeli occupation on civilians, residential neighborhoods, shelters, and displacement centers, resulting in the killing and injuring of hundreds of displaced people, and the forced eviction of thousands from their homes, confirms without a doubt the occupation’s malicious plans to exact revenge on our Palestinian people and forcibly displace them once again, echoing the events of 1948. These plans are carried out with American backing and a green light for further massacres, killing, and genocide.

The aggression has not stopped there; the occupation has extended its crimes against humanity by using starvation and thirst as weapons, preventing 3,800 trucks carrying aid and goods from entering northern Gaza. This has left nearly 400,000 people, including over 100,000 children, deprived of food, water, medicine, and baby formula. The occupation forces have also targeted and destroyed dozens of displacement centers housing tens of thousands of civilians who had fled their homes seeking safety. Instead, they found death by various means of the occupation, including fighter jets, drones, snipers, field executions, tank and vehicle crushing, planted explosives, house demolitions, mosque and institution destruction, and shelling of hospitals, marketplaces, and other public areas, leading to the cold-blooded killing of hundreds and the complete denial of humanitarian services. Medical teams have been denied food, detained, tortured, and prevented from administering polio vaccinations.

⭕ *The horrors our Palestinian people are enduring defy reason and logic. If major countries faced what Gaza endures, they would collapse in weeks. In light of this, we emphasize the following:*

First: We condemn the Israeli occupation’s crimes against humanity, including massacres and genocide targeting tens of thousands of civilians, children, and women deliberately in northern Gaza. We call on all nations worldwide to denounce these horrific massacres against residential neighborhoods, civilians, hospitals, medical teams, mosques, and other civilian institutions.

Second: We hold the Israeli occupation, along with the United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, France, and other countries complicit in this genocide, fully accountable for continuing the war and the crime of genocide against our Palestinian people, particularly the systematic extermination and killing in northern Gaza.

Third: We call upon the international community and all international organizations to fulfill their duties, adhere to international law and humanitarian principles, provide humanitarian, medical, and civil protection for all hospitals, institutions, and residential neighborhoods, and to pressure the Israeli occupation by all means to end these atrocious and inhumane crimes, especially the crime of genocide against unarmed civilians in Gaza and, specifically, in northern Gaza.

Glory and eternity to our martyrs

Full recovery for our courageous wounded

Complete freedom for our brave prisoners in occupation jail

And all greetings to our great Palestinian people

Official website -Hamas movement

[ouroborosmoons]

Civil Defense in Gaza: IMPORTANT/LONG POST

"Civil Defense" after a year of continuous war against our people in Gaza

Praise be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds, and peace and blessings be upon the best of martyrs and messengers, our Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him and all his family and companions...

We extend our greetings to the Palestinian people in Gaza for their patience and steadfastness throughout a full year of "israeli" war.

We salute the heroes of the Civil Defense who work tirelessly day and night, never wavering in their responsibilities and their national, religious, and moral duties toward their people. We also extend our appreciation to our humanitarian service partners across all fields.

After a year of continuous war on Gaza, we confirm that the Civil Defense is operating at full capacity, which amounts to only 20% of its original capabilities. This is due to the "israeli" occupation deliberately targeting Civil Defense facilities, vehicles, and personnel during their duties. This led to the complete or partial destruction of 52 vehicles of various types and the martyrdom of 85 personnel, with 292 others injured.

The "israeli" occupation has completely destroyed 11 firefighting and rescue vehicles, 2 rapid intervention rescue vehicles, 4 water tanker trucks, 8 ambulances, one hydraulic ladder vehicle, and 12 administrative vehicles. This confirms that the occupation forces are deliberately hindering humanitarian work and interventions aimed at saving lives and protecting property.

Additionally, 7 fire trucks have sustained damage that can be repaired if the necessary support and spare parts are provided. Also, 3 rescue vehicles, 3 ambulances, and one water tanker truck were damaged and can be restored to service if the occupation allows the entry of appropriate spare parts for repairs.

The continued disregard by the international community and humanitarian organizations has emboldened the "israeli" occupation to intensify its targeting of our resources and personnel. Our facilities and teams were directly targeted 6 times, and our teams were attacked while performing their duties on the scene 14 times.

Over 47% of our teams have been physically endangered, and all of them have suffered psychological harm due to losing family members or their homes.

Since the start of the war, our teams have carried out operations equivalent to 40 years of work based on response time and control, compared to their usual work before the war.

During the genocide, the Civil Defense received 90,000 emergency calls and responded to over 75,000 of them, resulting in more than 260,000 tasks, including rescues, evacuations, medical care, firefighting, and retrieving the bodies of martyrs.

However, our teams were unable to respond to over 15,600 emergency calls due to numerous obstacles and difficulties imposed by the "israeli" occupation.

Over the course of the year-long genocide, our teams, accompanied by medical teams, retrieved 37,210 martyrs from homes, streets, and targeted areas. The occupation has hindered the recovery of thousands of bodies still trapped under the rubble.

After a year of this devastating war, we affirm the following:

The continued international neglect in providing necessary support to the Civil Defense in Gaza will severely reduce our ability to respond to emergency calls from citizens. Our teams have been unable to respond to many of these calls due to fuel shortages and the lack of essential Civil Defense equipment. The occupation forces also deliberately block and hinder our access to areas they have invaded by closing streets and exits.

Civil Defense teams and humanitarian service providers in Gaza have faced immense challenges since the start of this war, and the evasion of responsibility by international institutions has exacerbated these challenges and difficulties.

We demand the provision of spare parts for Civil Defense equipment and vehicles, so we can repair damaged equipment and vehicles and allow our humanitarian intervention teams to continue their work.

We call for protection for Civil Defense personnel while carrying out their humanitarian duties and for the occupation to stop targeting our already worn-out vehicles and equipment.

We urge the world to pressure the occupation to allow the entry of urgent equipment for the Civil Defense of all types so that we can fulfill our duty amid the ongoing aggression and continuous bombardment across Gaza.

We demand the entry of heavy machinery to help clear the rubble of homes and structures to retrieve the bodies of over 10,000 martyrs still under the debris. These martyrs are not included in the official statistics of casualties from the aggression.

We demand the entry of the necessary quantities of fuel for Civil Defense vehicles, as we have often been unable to reach targeted areas due to fuel shortages, which has led to the martyrdom of hundreds of injured individuals who could not receive the necessary medical care.

General Directorate of Civil Defense

Gaza

Sunday, October 6, 2024

Below are the names of the 85 Civil Defense officers who have ascended to martyrdom in the last year as a result of the zionist aggression on the Gaza Strip:

Mohammed Musa Mohammed Hamad, Mohamed Abdel Hay Mohamed Morsi, Naeem Salama Ismail Al-Ghoul, Mohammed Abdel Hakim Khaled Shabir, Mohammed Nazmi Khamis Al-Ghalith, Fadl Sakib Hassan Ataya, Mohammed Suleiman Shahada Jabr, Shady Hassan Ibrahim Hamad, Ashraf Atta Saleh Juha, Jihad Ammar Khamis Abu Taqiyah, Ashraf Ahmed Mahmoud Abu Al-Maza, Maher Hassan Hamdan Abu Sawawin, Naji Ahmed Mohammed Al-Labban, Abdullah Farid Mohammed Abu Awda, Oday Abdul Jawad Mohammed Abu Ras, Saber Omar Dawood Abu Muslim, Ibrahim Atta Mohammed Hamdan, Mohammed Ayesh Sayed Hamdan, Mohammed Ahmed Musa Ali, Ahmed Mohammed Ahmed Noufal, Khaled Jamal Mohammed Al-Arabid, Osama Suleiman Salah Salah, Mahmoud Nahed Rashid Atallah, Muhammad Farid Hashem Dughmosh, Abdul Rahim Youssef Diab Abu Baid, Ayman Mohammed Mohammed Shawan, Abdullah Suwailem Abdullah Abu Rabie, Ahmed Mohammed Al-Abd Khas, Abdul Ghaffar Ayesh Hussein Asaad, Mazen Ismail Abd Rabbo Ashour, Iyad Abdul Karim Abdul Rahman Salem Deeb, Mohamed Fawzy Mohamed Qatit, Alaa Al-Abd Yousef Abu Ghanima, Adham Fathy Hassan Issa, Suleiman Ali Suleiman Yassin, Mohamed Sobhi Mousa Al-Jamasi, Nour El Din Mohamed Khamis Saqr, Bahjat Omar Musa Al-Jamal, Mohammed Majed Ahmed Ahmed, Abdul Razzaq Mahmoud Khaled Al-Mamluk, Hossam Eid Shaaban Abu Shaaban, Naji Jamal Saleh Al-Fayoumi, Mahmoud Abdel Karim Nimr Al-Sarhi, Hamed Mohammed Rashad Zeno, Mohammed Abdullah Mohammed Abu Al-Qura, Diaa Essam Abdel Rahim Abu Amouna, Mohamed Emad Hamdy Abdel-Ilah, Ahmed Zuhair Ahmed Hamouda, Ibrahim Shaaban Salem Obaid, Ahmed Saqr Hassan Abu Hin, Ahmed Mohammed Saleh Hamada, Mohammed Awad Ahmed Suleiman, Mahmoud Mohammed Ahmed Qanou, Karam Imad Hammad Abu Al-Araj, Abdullah Basem Mohammed Toman,. Mohamed Salah Mohamed Abdel Hadi, Mahmoud Basem Ibrahim Al-Muqaddamah, Mahmoud Mohammed Ahmed Salem, Abdul Karim Hassan Arafat Al-Ghazi, Hussein Diab Hussein Abu Jamous, Sohaib Adel Mohammed Abu Taqia, Ahmed Asaad Gabriel Faraj Allah, Osama Azmi Khalil Abu Daqqa, Abdul Latif Mohammed Ibrahim Salem, Youssef Mohammed Mahmoud Al-Mamluk, Ahmed Ismail Ahmed Abu Al-Qumsan, Bakr Raed Hussein Abu Harb, Ezz El-Din Abdel Sater Ramadan Al-Kurdi, Khaled Adeeb Abdullah Al-Hawrani, Ibrahim Imad Abdul Matar, Abdullah Mansour Eid Abdul Jawad, Hossam Hamdy Abdel Ghani Al-Maqid, Mohammed Hafez al-Assad Hassan Hamada, Mahmoud Ayman Mahmoud Ahmed, Badr Abdel Raouf Tawfiq Qasim, Musab Abdullah Saeed Al-Kurdi, Siraj Ayman Fathi Kaskin, Mahmoud Nidal Mahmoud Hammad, Mohammed Abdul Jawad Abdul Hadi Al-Shoubaki, Rami Abdel Qader Shafiq Mansour, Mahmoud Abdel Shafi Khamis Hussein, Bilal Ramadan Abd Rabbo Farhan, Hani Mohammed Ahmed Juma, Ziad Mohammed Salim Al-Habash, Ammar Rajih Ahmed Awad.

Glory to the heroes of the Civil Defense and their martyrs, to those who work tirelessly and sacrifice to relieve our people day and night through all available means.

[lydiakates-blog]

The bodies of three of the four US soldiers who were reported missing after their vehicle was submerged in a bog in Lithuania last week have been recovered, the Army announced on Monday. The vehicle has also been recovered.

The Soldiers we have lost in this tragedy were not just Soldiers - they were a part of our family. Our hearts are heavy with a sorrow that echoes across the whole Marne Division, both forward and at home,” Maj. Gen. Christopher Norrie, commanding general of the 3rd Infantry Division, said in a statement .

Search and recovery operations continue to find the fourth soldier, the statement said.

The four soldiers were assigned to the 1 st Armored Brigade, 3 rd Infantry Division out of Fort Stewart, Georgia. Their identities are being until their families are notified.

The soldiers and vehicle, an M88 Hercules, have been missing since the early morning of March 25 when they were conducting a maintenance training mission, recovering another US vehicle in a Lithuania training area. The M88 was found the morning of March 26; US and partner military forces have been working around the clock since to pull the nearly 70-ton vehicle out of the bog.

The recovery effort involved “tremendous resources from Lithuania,” as well as “hundreds of service members from the US Army, US Navy, Lithuanian Armed Forces and the Polish Armed Forces—along with other elements from the Lithuanian government and civilian agencies.”

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villains and Vampires part 44

Warnings: injured animal

It took some effort for the three of them to drag Mocha to the park's parking lot, where they found a random pickup truck with a trailer just barely big enough to fit Mocha's bulk as they loaded him up in it.

It looked like it was someone's construction vehicle, but it would do the trick. The owner wouldn't mind if they borrowed it, right?

Villain used his shadows to swiftly hotwire the car and steal it, and they quickly set off onto the road, driving to where Anisa's friend was – a ten minute journey.

They quickly found themselves running up to a random doorstep on the further outskirts of the city to ask for help saving Mocha.

But it turned out Anisa was right -- her friend was apparently very well-versed when it came to supernatural creatures such as Mocha, and Hero immediately knew the big feline was in good hands as Anisa and her friend set him up in a back room to operate and patch him up.

Villain, on the other hand, took a bit more convincing to believe his beloved companion was in a safe place. He kept fussing and insisting on checking on Mocha every five seconds.

Hero did her best to distract him as the minutes ticked by, but it was only after four whole hours had passed that Anisa's friend reappeared where she, Villain, and Anisa had been lounging on couches in the living room.

Anisa's friend was a dark-skinned woman with a slender build, dark brown eyes and hair, and hundreds of tattoos and piercings all across her body.

Villain instantly sprung to his feet when she appeared. "Mocha -- is he--?"

"The panther will live," the woman chuckled knowingly. "I removed the blade from his stomach and patched the wounds -- the damage ended up being more extensive than I had originally anticipated, but I adapted and eventually fixed him up. Though he'll have a long road of recovery ahead of him when he wakes."

And just like that, all the worried tension bled out of Villain in a rush, his shoulders finally relaxing.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. "How can I repay your kindness?"

"You don't have to give me anything in return -- the debt has already been paid. This one's on Anisa." The woman gave the vampire a clever wink, a secret price only the two of them knew, apparently.

Anisa smiled widely at Villain's shocked expression. "Nothing I couldn't afford," she reassured him. "It's the least I could do for you after you showed up to help fight Superhero and save my two vampire friends from his clutches. I owed you one. And now we're even.”

Villain dipped his head in deepest respect. “I am eternally grateful for the gift you have just given me.”

Anisa waved a hand dismissively with a chipper laugh. “You are very welcome. Hero told me all about Mocha long before I ever met you in person – I know how much that creature means to you.”

Villain's attention shifted to Hero, and he raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Talk about me a lot, did you?”

Hero blushed, flustered. “Only a little,” she mumbled sheepishly.

“All the time,” Anisa pitched in, and laughed when Hero swatted at her angrily.

“Anisa!” Hero barked accusingly. “Who's side are you on?!”

Villain couldn’t help smiling at the thought that he'd be part of many similar social interactions soon enough. Because he had friends now. Friends to tease, and hang out with, and have fun with. Even earning one friend was more than he’d ever hoped to obtain.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @whump-till-ya-jump

@cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

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@writing-with-olive