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xxiamtiebrousxx · 3 years ago

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Chapter 3 "Unexpected"(The Gentleman and the Assassin | CBS x Reader x Gentle Spy)

A/n: At this point, it's gonna be a combination of horror, comedy, and romance.

“Ah, mon ami, where do ‘ou think ‘ou’re going?”

“Yeah, roo, where do ya think you’re going?”

I stared at the men, panting. They stood before me, blood dripping down from their hands. I backed up, hitting the tree softly.

“Tsk, Christian, ‘ou scared her.” I gasped.

“Wait, Christian?” I asked.

“Wot do you want?” he asked.

“Are you Christian, as in Christian Brutal Sniper?” He chuckled.

“That’s right,” he replied.

“So the stories are true,” I whispered. “That makes you Gentle Spy.” I pointed to the chuckling spy.

“You’re smart,” Christian said.

“She reminds me of your old friend,” Spy replied.

“Ya seem like a good kid,” Christian said. “Too bad you won’t make it.” I whimpered as he pulled out his machete.

“Hold it right there!” We all looked back. Mike, all wounded and missing an arm, held a scatter gun at the murders. “Don’t touch her!”

“MIKE!” I yelled. “RUN!!” He shook his head.

“No! I’m not leaving you!” he exclaimed. “We’ll get out of here, alive.”

“I should’ve made sure you were dead,” the assassin growled. “You’re not gonna go anywhere.”

“Try me!” Mike exclaimed. He winced. His entire arm was completely severed off. Blood dripped like honey from a beehive.

“Hm, seems ‘ou still work,” Gentle replied. “Even missing an arm, you're still up and about.”

“Ya should’ve stayed dead. If ya did, ya wouldn’t have to witness your friend die.”

“You thought wrong!” Mike spat. “It’s gonna take more to.-”

BAM.

The spy had pulled out the revolver and shot Mike in the head. Blood oozed out from his head. His body dropped and rolled to my feet. I screamed as the men laughed.

“I never miss,” Gentle said, blowing the smoke from his gun. I scrambled away from the corpse.

“No, no, no, no, no, NO!!!” I yelled. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” I fell down to my knees, crying.

“Don’t cry roo, it’ll be over soon.” A hand ran down my back. I jumped up, backing up to the tree. Christian pinned my jacket to the trunk. “Loike Oi said, it'll be over soon,” he growled.

“Let go,” I begged. “Please. What did I ever do?” I asked. His red eyes bore into mine. Christian pressed the edge of his machete into my stomach.

My father, before the death of my mom, told me to never let a man get close like this.

After the death of my mom, he taught me how to fight.

For my sixteenth birthday, I was granted his old butterfly knife.

I took it wherever, except school and public places of course.

It was lying in my pocket.

I grabbed it and slashed his face. Christian pulled back in pain. His partner came towards me but I grabbed his leg and pulled him down. I kicked both men down.

I turned around and began to run.

This time I wouldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop until I was out of Teufort! The moon was high in the sky, but the clouds obscured the light. I couldn’t see where I was going. I heard breathing.

Breathing from behind me.

I looked, no one was there.

I turned around and crashed into a tree. I landed on my bottom. My nose was broken and blood dripped from it.

“Aw, did the little kangaroo get hurt?” Christian asked. He was hovering above me, machete raised over his head. I grabbed his feet and pulled them under him, causing him to fall. I scrambled to his feet, but Gentle grabbed my forearms and forced me to face him.

“It’s not polite for a cherie like ‘ou to hurt people,” he said.

“You killed them!” I yelled, kicking him in the place we do not speak of. He doubled over himself. I continued to run.

I reached the end of the forest and came back to the car. Panting, I forced the car door open and jumped in. Luckily, Mike had left the keys in the ignition and forgot to lock the car. I started the car and screeched away.

The road turned into rough terrain back into the black concrete. The woods rushed by and the only source of light was the headlights. I cracked my nose back in place, which was a lot of pain. I reached for Olivia’s bag. She left her phone there. I turned it on, but the screen never lit up. I groaned, throwing the dead phone onto the dashboard. The clouds morphed into a storm and it began to pour.

As if luck and life was hating me, the car began to sputter and slow down. I screamed and hit my head against the horn repeatedly, scaring any nearby wild life.

There was no way I was gonna survive.

If I did, I’d be running from these guys for the rest of my life! Hollywood would turn my story into a slasher movie or something like that.

I lifted my head from the horn. The sniper stood in the road, laughing. The car lights illuminated his entire body.

“It was woise for me to slash the gas loine,” he said, walking towards the car. “Oi’m surprised the car was able to go this far.” I groaned. He harshly opened the door.

At this point, I didn’t care whether I died or lived. Life was going down the drain. I dragged my body out of the car and dropped onto the ground.

“Make it quick,” I mumbled, grabbing his machete and sticking the tip on my stomach. Gentlespy and Christian hovered over me.

“Oi don’t think so,” he replied, grabbing his kukri back. He bent over so that our faces were close. “We’re gonna make ya suffer.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Don’t ask what’s in store, cherie,” Gentle replied. “Just know, we need a maid.” He grabbed my arm and hoisted me up.

“Get in.” I was thrown into the back seat of the car.

“Wait,” I said. “If there’s no gas, how are you going to get the car moving?” I asked. Christian, who was already in the driver’s seat, turned around and faced me. He frowned.

“Gentle, Oi think we need a plan B,” he said.

#cbs x reader x gentlespy #gentlespy x reader #x reader #christian brutal sniper x reader #christian brutal x reader #found footage #mystery #tf2 xreader #romance #horror #Long post

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ask-pure-and-brutal · 3 years ago

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Tagging System

These are the tags that will be used for this blog for blocking out any disturbing images.

Alcohol- Someone is drinking or there are alcohol bottles on screen

Answered- An ask that has been answered

Blood- There is blood shown on screen

Death- Someone or something is dead on screen

Death mention- Someone states that someone or something has died off screen

Gore- Pictures that show an extreme amount of blood and organs

Smoke- There is smoking shown on screen

Anyone who appears in the asks will have their name in as a tag. (E. g. Christian Brutal Sniper (Cbs) and Christian Pure Spy (Cps))

This will be updated over time in case anything needs to be added or removed

#Tf2 #tf2 ask blog #christian brutal sniper #christian pure spy #tf2 ocs

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ask-marcus-cally-and-ari · 4 years ago

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Only Human

Chapter 11: Panic In Evo City

Authors Note: I know I keep apologizing for the wait, but this time I’m really sorry. Three months between chapters is way too long and I’m sorry this one took us so long to complete.

The offices at HECU were in sheer chaos. Interns were running around hauling papers, tech people were working HECU’s servers to the edge of meltdown, and countless soldiers were being issued out to different parts of Evo City. Tyson had wrung himself ragged trying to keep the chaos under control, but no progress had been made.

“How are three teenagers so hard to track down?!” he shouted, staring at a huge collection of screens.

“I don’t know, sir!” A sleep deprived employee cried. “We’ve combed through every last bit of security feed available in both Big City and Evo City, but there’s no sign of them! All we’ve found are several new Freaks that just keep popping up!”

“New Fre- What do you mean, new Freaks?!”

The employee quickly pulled up security footage of an old motel, and the feed showed the disturbing sight of a group of choir students warping and transforming into twisted monsters.

“We were sent this footage by the owner of the motel last week. We were sent a similar piece of footage from Evo Subway where a crocodilian Freak was spotted running across the tracks,” The employee explained, pulling up footage from a subway. “And this is footage of a new Freak that was just spotted earlier today.” The employee showed Tyson one last piece of footage from downtown Big City, where several mechanical Freaks were rampaging down the street.

Tyson sat down, shocked. “I want soldiers everywhere you get footage from here on out. Track these new Freaks down.”

“Yes sir.” The employee quickly left their post and hurried out, several documents on hand. As the employee left, Rudra headed into the room, a phone in hand.

“Colonel Tyson, there’s someone that wants to speak with you.”

Tyson nodded. “Thank you, Commander,” he said, taking the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello Tyson,” a deep, distorted voice replied. “Things are looking a little bleak over at HECU.”

“...who is this?” Tyson asked, suddenly guarded.

“You can call me Archsage.”

“Alright, Archsage. What do you want?”

“To help, of course. HECU has been overrun with news of new Freaks, and so far you haven’t been able to track down the Trio.”

“How do you know that?” Tyson asked, then got up and left, putting her on speaker and motioning for Rudra to follow and stay quiet.

“I know quite a lot. More than you, certainly. I’ve been monitoring the Freaks for a while now. I know what they’re planning to do, and I know why so many new Freaks have been appearing as of late.”

“Care to enlighten me?” Tyson asked. “It would certainly make my job easier.”

“The Freaks are planning to bring about a worldwide catastrophe called the Cataclysm, and they’re bringing more Freaks into the world to further their goals.”

“Worldwide catastrophe? Are they attempting to destroy mankind?”

“More like they’re attempting to replace humanity entirely with Freaks.”

“WHAT?!”

“That’s why they’re after those kids. Those teenagers have powers that can stop the Cataclysm from happening.”

“Motherf@cker... How do you know this?”

“I’ve been looking into this whole ordeal for quite some time.”

“And how do you know about us?”

“I happen to know someone from HECU.”

“You have an informant?”

“In a way.”

“How can I trust you if you’ve been spying on us for so long?”

“Because I have information that you don’t. Information that you need.”

"And I assume there's a price for that information?"

“There is. If I’m going to help you, I want access to HECU’s databases.”

Tyson sighed. "It seems like I don't have much of a choice, but if you use it, you do it here. So we can ensure you're not using it against us."

“Agreed.”

Tyson sighed as he hung up. "Of course this stuff happens to me."

“If this is what we must do to stop the Freaks, then so be it,” Rudra replied. “I’ll send my troops to Big City to keep watch for any new Freaks.”

"Thank you," Tyson replied. "And try to keep this from reaching the public. Chaos in the streets would make this worse than it already is."

“It’s hard to keep something like this secret when some of these new Freaks have already been rampaging down the streets in broad daylight,” Rudra deadpanned.

"Then make up something and bribe the media to say it."

Rudra squinted at Tyson. “No, I don’t think I will.”

"I could get Anita to. She'd probably consider it a social experiment."

“You know good and well the kind of havoc she could wreak.”

"I also know how hard it would be to keep the public calm if they knew this was happening. You remember the plague two years ago."

“You can’t hide things that are already in the public eye. You tried to hide what happened with Grave Manor, and instead it’s one of the most well known horror stories to date. It even has its own music album. You tried to cover up that plague, but you can’t exactly hide something that nearly destroyed two entire cities and decimated their populations. You tried to hide Dr. Grace’s invasion, but you can’t hide the fact that a giant armada of ships came right the f_ck out of nowhere and attacked Evo City. And you certainly can’t hide a horde of monsters running through the streets of Big City in broad daylight.”

"I'm not saying hide it this time, just come up with a believable story that's less serious than the APOCALYPSE!"

“And how do you expect me to do that!? Tell people that all the new Freaks popping up everywhere isn’t a sign that things are going horribly wrong!? We have people turning into Freaks left and right, the Freaks that are already around are becoming more hostile by the day, and we have a Trio of teenagers running around that are our only chance of stopping this apocalypse!”

Tyson sighed. "Look, I just don't want the public to panic. If they do, everything will collapse into chaos and it'll be even harder to track down those kids."

“Tyson, the public is already panicking. The best we can do now is try to keep them safe.”

Tyson sighed. “...you’re right.”

Rudra nodded. “And I suggest you get on that. If things keep getting worse like they have been, you might end up having to evacuate the city very soon.”

Tyson nodded. “Alright. Start a watch and tell the people to prepare for evacuation.”

Rudra turned on her heel and quickly took her leave, calling up a group of soldiers to her side. “I hope you guys are ready for another round of disaster. We have to be prepared to evacuate Evo City ASAP.”

“Yes, ma’am,” a soldier replied.

***

Meanwhile at Christian Pure Spy’s chapel, Polite Spy and Jester were watching a movie while Isa played with her dolls nearby.

“Have you heard from Spyper and Intelligent lately?” Jester asked, tossing a handful of popcorn into their mouth.

“Not since last week. They were supposed to come over for a get-together, right?”

“Yeah, they were. But I haven’t heard from them at all.”

Polite Spy lit a cigarette. “I did hear from Sny, though. Apparently he’s out of the country on a job.”

“Spy job or Sniper job?”

“Spy job. He’s looking into an organization.” Polite leaned back. “If you don’t mind telling, who was that on the phone?”

“A guy named Odi-Tron. He wants to help humanity and he wants me to help him do that! Isn’t that great?”

Polite tilted his head. “Is he starting a charity or something?”

“He didn’t really give me much info. All he said was that I had to look out for three kids that’ll be coming by soon.”

Polite hummed, opening his laptop. “So you’re going to help without the information?”

“Well, yeah. Nothing bad’s gonna happen if I look after three kids, right?”

Something flashed in Polite’s eyes, but Jester missed it as the Freak replied, “I suppose not,” and started typing.

“I do wanna know why I have to look after these three kids specifically,” Jester mused. “I hope they’re not in any danger.”

“As do I.” Polite looked up. “I’ve heard Brutal has three people in his crosshairs as of late. What do you think they did?”

Jester looked at Polite with alarm. “You don’t think he would be going after some kids, do you?”

“I certainly hope not. On the off chance that they are, however, if they keep up the diligence that made him fail the first time, they’ve got a shot at survival.”

Jester gave a long and worried pause, then glanced back at Isa. “I really hope he’s not after these kids…”

***

In a dark base, somewhere nobody would have ever thought was habitable, much less inhabited, someone got a call. “This better be good, 9.”

“It is. I just got an email from Polite. It’s about Count Jester.”

“What about them? Aren’t they too busy eating candy or something to be cause for concern?”

“That’s what I thought. But what Polite just sent me is more than enough to worry you. Jester’s apparently been suckered in by Odi-Tron. The guy in charge of this whole mess. He managed to sucker in Jester.”

“Of course he did. Of course he’d get in someone with access to a whole other dimension... Tell Polite to stay put. Be ready to knock Jester out if need be and bring the Aspects here if we don’t get to them in time.”

“Well...Here’s the thing. Maybe we can get Jester on our side. Jester may have a few screws loose, but they’re not malicious. If someone can convince them that they were lied to by someone like Odi-Tron, they might just defect to our side. Then we’ll be the ones with the reality bender.”

“Alright... Tell Polite to try and get Jester to contact Odi-Tron again. Have them pry deeper. We didn’t work this hard to lose now. And keep an eye out for the Aspects. All our agents in the States are at your disposal for this mission.”

“Yes Archsage. I’m on it. I’ll contact you again if there’s any major developments.”

“Good. And give Polite a bonus. Tell him to buy himself some stickers or whatever he can treat himself with.”

“Understood. Until next time, Archsage.” With that, 9 hung up.

The shadowy figure sighed and leaned back. “Of all the people to run this operation, why did it have to be me?”

#freak fortress #Only Human #Ari #Marcus #Cally #Rudra #Polite Spy #Count Jester #team fortress 2

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belphegor1982 · 5 years ago

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AND ALSO THAT TIME YOU KILLED PHIL

I’m never gonna live that one down, am I :D Okay, let’s go.

He always says it, and Lawrence always shrugs. It’s almost becomean in-joke now.

The prompt was “You don’t have to stay”, and I have no idea why my mind conjured the image of Spy (at the end of a long, eventful life) in a hospital bed saying this to Sniper. But once it took hold it wouldn’t let go. And, y’know, for all that I love writing humour, banter, and/or fluff, sometimes I just have to let rip with the brutal down-to-earth feels. Like when I wrote If.

Of the two of them, it’s hard to say who hates hospitals the most,so Philippe is always grateful when Lawrence comes to visit. Usuallyhe comes alone, but sometimes one of his grandnephews or nieces comeswith him, Lizzie’s and Christian’s kids and grandkids, of course! and the conversation is livelier and dwells less on thepast, which is just as well. Their past is splattered with litres andlitres of blood, half of it their own.

Spy is French and, I suspect, remains French in certain aspects of his life. Hence the using “litres” instead of “galleons”. Also, while the premise of TF2 is “a bunch of cheerful dumb psychos who can’t die killing each other for a paycheck” - classic video game fare, and goofy as hell - the implications are interesting. By “implications” I mean “possible PTSD” and by “interesting” I mean “fun to explore through writing/torturing characters”, naturally.

Does killing people for a living make you a murderer when said deadpeople keep coming back for more the very next day? Philippe haspondered this more often than not, these past few years. Sometimes,instead of asking himself, he asks Lawrence, because he’s the onlyone left he can ask, but Lawrence has no answer of his own.

See what I mean about the premise? Hence my taking crack seriously. It’s a reasonably good question, too - it makes you an assassin, but does it make you a murderer if you know the people you keep killing keep coming back?

(They’re not the last ones left, but it certainly feels like it.Scout’s in Boston and Miss Pauling lives in Louisiana and theyhardly see each other any more. Sometimes they Skype. Ever sincePhilippe checked into the hospital he’s refused to do anything morethan chat, though.)

TF2 is set in the 1960s/early 1970s. That means this snippet is set in the late 2000s/early 2010s. Notice how Scout and Pauling are the youngest? This is why they’re the only ones left. And the reason why Spy doesn’t want to Skype since he’s checked into the hospital is because he’s wasting away, knows he’s not coming out alive, and refuses to appear as weak/leave a bad impression of him in their memories. Or, how vanity can make you sad instead of making you want to roll your eyes. (but you do anyway.)

* * *

“You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“That’s all right, I don’t have anywhere else I need to be tillsixteen hundred.”

Sniper spends a lot of time in that hospital.

They still use military time. It reminds them of the bad old days andthe way Soldier – ironically enough – never got the hang of it.

Don’t tell me Jane Doe would understand military time :D was he even in the military in the first place? Also, this is just funny to me, because in France we use a version of that to tell the time. 1PM is “13 heures”, 8PM is “20 heures” (but midnight is “minuit”).

Philippe still uses the metric system in his head, come to think ofit.

As I said, for some things he remains 100% French.

When it comes to plunging your knife into someone’s back with theintention of causing as much damage as possible, a centimetre willalways be more precise than an inch.

…and that’s also a factor.

* * *

Philippe stays at the hospital. Lawrence stays at his side.

He brings him news of his nephews and nieces (Lizzie’s andChristian’s kids) and their children, and it’s a treat, watchinghim awkwardly sliding the photos on his phones with his huge, bonyfingers. He loves technology – has a ridiculous amount of apps onhis phone – but the emphasis on touch screens lately annoys him.

I didn’t want to go the obvious route and make old!Lawrence a grumpy curmudgeon with no technological skills. But I liked the idea of him being grumpy because his fingers are getting a little stiff with age and he prefers buttons to touch screens. My dad is the same, btw.

Philippe hasn’t touched his own phone in a couple of days. Justpicking it up seemed like too much of an effort.

* * *

“You don’t have to stay.”

Hey, notice how the last time this sentence pops up it’s just a little different? :3

“Keep that up, spook, and I’ll end up believin’ I’minterrupting something each time I come in. Is it that red-hairednurse, ya know, the one with the freckles?”

I purposely didn’t specify the gender of the nurse. That’s because 1) I like the idea of Phil being bi and 2) at the time I wasn’t 100% sure - and didn’t want to decide for the readers, Chaos in particular - whether he and Law were a couple or really close friends. That’s for you to decide. They 100% are each other’s family, though.

Lawrence’s voice is low on purpose, even as he’s gently ribbinghim. Philippe murmurs because his chest feels like a slab ofconcrete.

Or a slab of stone. Like the kind they put on people’s graves.

What can I say? I love wordplay. In this instance it’s effective.

“No.”

“Ah well. Thought he liked ya. I was all ready to get jealous andeverythin’, too.”

He’s ribbing him, of course, as Phil is a little too far gone for Lawrence to get jealous - but again, I deliberately kept the nature of their relationship vague.

Lawrence’s slight smile – the sort that says ‘Come on, playalong’ – is warm and gentle, and it makes Philippe almost not saywhat he means to say.

Almost.

Okay, truth: this was the point I knew death was imminent.

“Lawrence…”

Even whispering is an effort. Putain de cigarettes.

“Fucking cigarettes”. I usually put translations when I write in other languages but I thought this one was obvious enough.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… look away, please? For a… moment.”

There’s a French series called Lazy Company, about a handful of idiots through the Battle of Normandy; it’s three seasons of 10 episodes and while hilarious is a big case of Cerebus Syndrome and mood whiplash. In one of the last episodes, one of the main characters is shot and another character is there for them, but the dying character asks them to look away as he dies. It’s not for the same reasons at all, but it was such a powerful moment that it stayed with me a long time, and was still on my mind when I wrote this.

Lawrence says nothing, but his eyes narrow.

“It’s just… I need… intimacy.” Suddenly he’s not sureit’s the right word. He’s been speaking almost exclusivelyEnglish for over fifty or sixty years; words usually flow withoutthinking. But right now he has thrown his whole body into the laststruggle, and it’s an effort that dwarfs all others, including thesearch for vocabulary.

Do you know the worst part of being bilingual? You end up searching for words in both languages, especially when you’re tired. Incidentally, I love writing characters who speak more than one language, especially if they live in an environment where they have to speak a second language.

Lawrence still squints at him silently, as though he’s waiting foran explanation. Philippe isn’t sure he’ll hear the end.

“T—thank you. For staying. Thank you. But…”

They’ve dealt death so many times, the two of them; they’ve diedso many times, too, whether in the heat and chaos of battle or curledup on themselves, bleeding to death in a corner. They’ve never diedalone. There’s always been someone – the enemy standing overthem, allies running towards them in a last ditch attempt at rescue,their comrades’ and the Administrator’s voice in their earpieces…

Again, crack taken seriously. Usually in fiction, dying alone is about the worst fate a dying character can meet: there’s just something about facing that pain and that terrifying unknown without the comfort of a fellow human being that’s heartbreaking. But when your life used to be death, repeatedly, with someone ALWAYS watching you or listening to you… Well, I thought Phil might see dying without someone else’s eyes on him for once as going out with dignity.

And then there is the other sort of death that Philippe saw wellbefore that, the slow death of the human mind as he strugglednot to turn into a living shadow because it was just one step awayfrom the corpses the SS guards cleared off the ground as though theywere refuse.

Look, Em, I don’t know when you got the idea that Spy was a death camp survivor, but you pulled it off magnificently and when I think of TF2 it’s your version that comes to my mind first. So - Phil has seen that kind of impersonal, industrial death (mental and physical) before the violent, repeated kind of his chosen profession. I used the reminder to segue into the next idea:

Philippe has never seen death as being dignified and intimate. He’sseen way too much of it for that. But if this is to be the end, he’llbe damned if he doesn’t do this on his own terms.

And that’s what this is about. Dying with dignity, side by side with a friend who doesn’t think any less of you for not fighting one more minute and allows you the respect of not prying while staying and holding your hand.

Lawrence stares at him, waiting for the rest of the sentence. ButPhilippe is struggling for breath now, not vocabulary. So Lawrencenods slowly, takes his limp, emaciated hand in his own, big andgangly and calloused, and resolutely turns his head right, towardsthe window.

It’s not a bad sight.

I’m usually pretty uptight about third-person limited PoVs, and only switch PoVs after a dash or something else that makes it clear you’re seeing the action through the eyes of a different character. In this instance, though, I didn’t, and made the switch from Phil’s to Law’s mind just as Phil passes away.

Philippe’s hand twitches at some point. Lawrence waits a littlebefore looking down again.

Then he reaches out and slowly, gently, closes the half-open eyes.

The reason I didn’t write tears was because I thought I didn’t need to. Which also means you’re free to imagine whatever you want. Is Lawrence crying? Will he cry later, when it sinks in? Yes.

Whew, this was A Lot to revisit :D

#fic commentary #mercenaries of chaos #ask reply #TF2 #thatsoneginger

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we11101 · 3 years ago

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U.S. Invasion of Dominican Republic Stirs World-Wide Anger

The White House decision to pull a blitzkrieg on the Dominican Republic and occupy the small, poverty-stricken, dictator-cursed country with 30,000 marines and paratroopers, touched off the greatest wave of anger against American imperialism since 1958-60. At that time, it will be recalled, Vice-President Nixon was received with stones and curses by angry crowds throughout his “good will” tour of Latin America; while President Eisenhower was forced to cancel a projected trip to Japan because of the explosive point reached in the pent-up wrath of the Japanese people.

Today Johnson would do well not to venture into Latin America, Japan, or almost anywhere outside the United States. He has become the most hated man in the world.

Here are some samples of reactions in various cities:

Santiago de Chile: Hundreds of young people, mostly students, demonstrated in the streets May 5, particularly in the area of the U.S. embassy and on Avenida O'Higgins, the main street of the capital, demanding that the U.S. get out of Santo Domingo.

All the political parties, including the governing Christian-Democrats and the next biggest party, the Radicals, published resolutions condemning the U.S. occupation of’ the Dominican Republic.

The chamber of deputies called a special session which denounced the U.S. aggression” and demanded the withdrawal of U.S. troops from the island.

Lima: Crowds of students demonstrated angrily against the U.S. They stoned the U.S. embassy.

Quito: An estimated 200 students demonstrated here. At Guayaquil an automobile parked in front of the American consulate was blown up. The resulting fire burned other vehicles.

Barranquilla and Cartagena: Demonstrations in these two Colombian cities included the stoning of the facade of a U.S. Colombian center and the burning of an American flag in Barranquilla.

Police succeeded in blocking the burning of a second American flag in Cartagena.

Caracas: In full daylight a group machine-gunned the U.S. embassy. Other assaults were made against American business firms and cultural institutions. In scuffles with the police, 18 were wounded. Demonstrations were reported in many other towns in Venezuela.

Rio de Janeiro: Despite the brutal military-police dictatorship of General Castelo Branco, [1] 500 students staged a demonstration May 7 clearly aimed at the U.S. invasion of the Dominican Republic. They did it by parading before the French embassy to demonstrate approval of de Gaulle’s criticism of the U.S. occupation of the island. Heavy contingents of military police kept a watchful eye on the students.

Montevideo: Demonstrations of increasing violence broke out against the U.S. On May 6 a bomb exploded in the local office of an American cable company.

Buenos Aires: Some thousands of students began demonstrating May 5 in front of the Congress against the landing of U.S. troops in Santo Domingo. They chanted anti-American slogans, broke windows, set fire to tables on terraces in the streets, and-threw Molotov cocktails at the police. The demonstrations continued on following days, growing in volume and spreading to other towns.

Madrid: Franco’s fascist dictatorship could not keep order in face of the anger over the U.S. troop landings in Santo Domingo. Several hundred students demonstrated in front of the Dominican embassy shouting such slogans as “Yankee murderers!”; “Yankees, Get Out.”

The Madrid cops finally succeeded in breaking up the demonstration, making a number of arrests. The controlled Madrid press, which had hailed Johnson’s moves from the very first day, began to change its tone by May 8, striking a critical note over Johnson’s unilateral action.

Vienna: Some 300 students mobilized in the Austrian capital. They demonstrated in front of the American embassy, denouncing U.S. actions in the Dominican Republic.

Berlin: Hundreds of students demonstrated at Potsdam and sent a declaration to the American military mission protesting the U.S. aggression against the Dominican Republic.

While such actions, coupled with innumerable resolutions and declarations by all kinds of organizations, indicated the feelings of the overwhelming mass of humanity about Johnson’s espousal or the “Big Stick” policy or Theodore Roosevelt, American reporters round themselves with no choice but to reluctantly expose the monstrous lies which Johnson used to cover up and justify the invasion.

A typical example is provided by the dispatch sent by Barnard L. Collier May to the New York Herald Tribune. He could find no similarity between the facts in Santo Domingo and the stories issued in Washington. In his opinion this was not the fault of the local information services of the U.S. troops or State Department. “But these officers are finding themselves in an impossible position with correspondents who get around in the U.S.-controlled and rebel zones, and eyewitness events which are vigorously denied or papered over.”

These local officials are told little and the little they are told is “often false or misleading in the extreme.”

In Washington, for instance, on May 3, Johnson said, “Today there are between 1,000 and 1,500 dead people whose bodies are in the streets of Santo Domingo...”

“That statement,” said Collier, “even if it were made during-any time in the whole crisis – even in the worst and most blood-bathed part of it – was patently false. Reporters, including myself, who have been through the worst parts of the rebel districts, have seen no more than six to ten bodies, which is bad enough.

“The very idea of lf, 1000 to 1,500 corpses rotting under this tropical sun is repelling.”

Collier offered the opinion that Johnson used that figure in “good conscience,” but the reporter found this as “disturbing as the unprecedented misinformation system here.” [2]

Some other U.S. lies exposed by Collier: On the night before the U.S. marines were sent in, the U.S. embassy told a group of correspondents “that 12 anti-rebel Dominicans were lined up against a wall and, to cries of ‘Paredon,’ were personally machine-gunned to death by the present rebel leader, Col. Francisco Caamaño.”

The truth: “Not a single reporter has found concrete evidence of the ‘paredon’ episode, and there are now reports that one of the key men said to have been killed in that incident, is alive, although wounded.”

The U.S. embassy also told correspondents at the same time that there were 53 hard-core Communists directing the rebellion, and a list of them was passed out by the embassy.

The truth: “But as of nine days later, no hard proof has been provided by any official sources here, although reporters who know the Dominican situation have personally found that, indeed, several of the listed are Reds and active here.”

The U.S. military told correspondents May 4 that a “small fishing trawler-type boat had sneaked into the harbor and sailed up the Ozama River, to fire with machine guns on forces of the 82nd Airborne, dug in on the eastern edge of the river.”

The truth: A freighter had been in the harbor for several days. “It also turned out that the rebels were trying to start a fire aboard, but each time firemen tried to reach the ship, they came under heavy barrages from the opposite shore.”

On May 5 a military press officer told correspondents that no U.S. patrols were going into rebel territory. That same day a patrol penetrated rebel territory for ten blocks. At first the U.S. military denied the story; then they said the patrol had merely become lost.

The truth: “After the briefing, a major admitted off the record that the U.S. troops were under orders to pursue snipers anywhere in the city – even into the deepest part of the rebel territory – if that would secure the area. This order, he said, was in effect, despite the cease-fire arranged by the Organization of American States.”

Whatever the source of these lies and dozens like them, whether they originated in the Pentagon, the State Department, the White House or the Central Intelligence Agency, they were obviously what is known in these circles as “psychological warfare.” They followed the same pattern as the flood of- lies that poured out of Washington at the time of the invasion of Cuba. The aim of this lying propaganda was quite simple. It constituted the verbal smoke screen required for the military and political operation ordered by Johnson.

In Santo Domingo itself, the counterrevolutionary American forces moved according to the standard’ rules to be found in the Pentagon’s textbooks.

The excuse for the first move was to protect American lives and property, although not a single American had been so much as touched and the aim of the revolutionists was the limited one of restoring a democratic constitutional government that had been overthrown by a coup d'état. This excuse, which was advanced by Johnson himself, was sufficient to cover the first landings.

As additional thousands of troops were airlifted, the thin original excuse was dropped and a different one, again mouthed by Johnson, was offered. This was the hoary one about the “Communist danger."The real reason, of course, was to protect the holdings of two American sugar companies against the potential threat inherent in the revolution and to safeguard the Trujillo dynasty which has performed so heroically for American imperialism these many decades.

The build up of troops was fantastically large – at the last count, some 30,000; and they have brought in the most modern and deadly equipment, including tanks and bombers.

This monstrous military power dug in rapidly, obviously preparing to submit the population of Santo Domingo to a bloodbath such as would be recorded for all time, transmitting the name of Johnson in this way to generations yet unborn.

Against such military power, even the most heroic revolutionists would have little chance in view of the lack of opportunity to get the people properly organized and to secure the means of defense from other countries.

The wielders of the Big Stick proceeded methodically to the next step – to demand that civilians give up the guns that had been handed out in the first days of the revolution. The distribution of arms was supreme evidence of the democratic character of the movement, for it placed final control of the Dominican revolution in the hands of the people.

How well this move succeeds remains to be seen. If the arms are surrendered, then the Dominican people will undergo violent suppression, perhaps lasting for many years, as happened in the case of Greece at the end of World War II. [3]

Along with this move, the U.S. embassy is seeking to divide the leaders of the popular upsurge through apparent concessions (resignations of the worst butchers among the Trujillo forces) and efforts to lure the main figure, Caamaño, into a trap or into capitulation.

These maneuvers appear to be having some success. The men subjected to these blandishments are not really communists or revolutionary socialists. They are exactly what they said they were followers of Juan Bosch, people who have deep illusions about the nature of bourgeois democracy. Given the opportunity, they will of course come to terms with Washington. But then this is no surprise. This was precisely the program of Juan Bosch.

What Bosch and those like him fail to appreciate is that American imperialism no longer has any confidence in their capacity to contain a revolution within the limits of bourgeois democracy. The imperialists are profoundly convinced that once begun, a popular revolution in the world today tends by its own inner logic to become converted into a socialist revolution.

And that is why, nowhere in the world today do they place much confidence in the capacities of bourgeois democratic regimes, particularly those following decades of dictatorship such as that suffered by the Dominican people. If they have any choice at all they will inevitably take the Chiang Kai-sheks, the Syngman Rhees, the Diems, the Batistas, the Castelo Brancos, the Somosas and the Francos. In the Dominican Republic they will concentrate the same way in finding another Trujillo and they will do their utmost to keep him in power if they have to sit him on twice or four times 30,000 U.S. bayonets.

This policy, however, demonstrates not the power of American capitalism but its weakness. The trend toward revolution on a worldwide scale is becoming irrepressible. The people want democracy; they want socialism. Counter-revolutionary troops can contain them only for a brief time. American imperialism is nearing the final question – shall it accept defeat or perish in the hell of nuclear war?

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apsbicepstraining · 7 years ago

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Obama guides wild with Bear Grylls to promote activity on climate change

US president treks across a glacier and eats a vicious salmon dumped by a bear on British wanderers reality Tv show

He declined to drink urine but Barack Obamadid draw tea from glacier irrigate and munch on a brutal salmon previously ruminated by a suffer in his wilderness bromance with Bear Grylls.

The US president trekked through a remote part of Alaska to promote action on climate change and depict a more humane back in a special episode of the British wanderers world present, Ranging Wild With Bear Grylls.

The hour-long programme, which aired on NBC on Thursday, presented the duo bonding as they hiked on Departure glacier in the Kenai mountains, bantering over fatherhood and the environmental issues as well as ga and bellybutton fluff.

Im skinny but tougher than I appear, said Obama, after the former soldier praised his physical fitness. It was a moment to form Sarah Palin howl.

The president drank tea made from catkins and melting glacier irrigate and munched on a ravaged salmon, which Grylls said had been abandoned by a allow and still endured bear breath.

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Barack Obama discuss climate change in first video on Facebook

Grylls has persuaded previous celebrity clientsto booze their own urine but the commander in chief demurred. I expect, in extremis, its something that I would do if the alternative was death, he said. Its not something Id make a habit of. And I possibly wouldnt do it just for a TV show.

It was the White Houses idea to pair the professorial president with a rocky survivalist as part of a strategy of unconventional methodology and stunts to project his agenda.

It was an Obama seldom learnt on tv: release, personal, stripped of solemnity, just a guy out hiking with another guy.

Of course, it was also an misconception. According to Grylls dozens of the staff members, secret service agents and a meat taster flitted only off-screen, along with snipers in the hills and a military helicopter overhead.

Perhaps to offset any comparisons with Russian President Vladimir Putins swaggering wilderness photo-ops , Obama saw various references to the invisible chaperones, including where reference is fumbled using a borrowed smartphone to take a selfie with Grylls.

Im in whats called the bubble and secret service manufactures sure that Im always out of threat, which I very much appreciate but it can be a little constraining, he said, addressing the camera instantly. So to be with Bear in the timbers: it doesnt get any better than that.

Both males quoth the receding glacier as evidence of the urgency in addressing climate change. Ive two daughters, and I dont want grandkids too soon, but eventually I hope to have some, said Obama. And I want to make sure that this is there for them , not only us.

He said action on climate change issues was vital to his presidency. I think it will have a more significant impact on the well-being of future generations as just about anything. And were still a long way from get it right but its something that, working together, I think we can make a difference on.

The show aired at a fragile season for the president, who is travelling high on the climate deal agreed during Paris last week but defensive over Republican claims that he is weak on Islamist terrorism. On Friday he is due to visit the relatives of victims of this months San Bernardino murder .

Obama played the straight man , noting Gryllss reputation for extreme cuisine. Allows a mediocre cook, but the fact that we feed something recognisable was encouraging. Now, the fact that he told me this was a leftover fish from a allow, I dont know if that was necessary. He could have just left that out.

The Briton commended the president on nimbly starting a fuel, obviating need to use bellybutton fluff as kindle. He also recommended the catkins tea as a remedy for ga. Its not a problem I have but maybe you do, Obama replied.

When Grylls warned that suffers were especially dangerous when you stunned them fornicating, Obama joked that the same could be said for humans.

Clearly smitten, Grylls, an evangelical Christian, purposed their jaunt with a riverside devotion announcing on God to bless the presidents toil. They hugged and became their separate ways.

He said it was one of the best days of his presidency, Grylls told reporters earlier the coming week, is in accordance with Reuters. There were occasions along the direction I had to pinch myself and think, actually, this is the president of America.

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caredogstips · 7 years ago

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The Accountant: Ben Afflecks Autistic Assassin Balances Taxes, Busts Skulls, Confounds Us All

This is far and away the strangest Hollywood movie of its first year. “>

In the nearly unclassifiable thriller The Accountant , Ben Affleck trades the Bat-armor for another crime-fighting outfit: sights, a sensible suit, and a pocket shield. By period he crunches tax returns for tribes out of his strip-mall agency in the suburb. On the side, we rapidly memorize in this audaciously serious category cavort, hes a stone-cold killer with numbersor a sniper rifle, or a knife, or his bare hands, or even the loop he wears looped through his sensible slacks. Afflecks titular auditor, you might allege, is a CPA with a extremely particular change of skills.

Theres as much Taken as here i am Rain Man to be found in The Accountant , a regularly frustrating but amazingly witty category mishmash thats at least upfront about its center vanity: Ben Affleck is clearly, 100 percent going for it as Hollywoods first autistic assassin. Thats not enough to make it a good movie, exactly, but it certainly prevents The Accountant watchable in dribbles and fells of eccentric, fleeting magnificence, in a truly spooky various kinds of papa thriller that never met an accounting gag it didnt like.

Directed by Warrior helmer Gavin OConnor from a Black List screenplay by Bill Dubuque ( The Judge ), The Accountant has such a fearles high-concept premise, its a disgrace how far it is from being cohesive. Affleck stars as Christian Wolff, a quiet and tidy recluse whose high-functioning autism stirs him a natural at the accounting artsparticularly when his shady cartel and crime-lord buyers necessitate him to sieve through hopeless amounts of files and fleshes to piece together the riddle when cash goes missing.

A lifetime of harsh hand-to-hand combat and artilleries improving too stirs him the easy-going choice when those chaotic books necessitate resolving. His Screech rating, one reckons, must be impeccable. Afflecks Wolff is nothing if not efficient at his place, slicing and shooting his path through entire builds of bad people with the same cool precision he uses to solve complex numerical equations. In The Accountant , Afflecks targets are conceded no mercy, only enough speedy and destructive retribution to settle the score. No Marthas can save these men. The only mistake we ever hear of him making, quite literally, is that he registered his taxes properly and on time.

The mystery of Wolffs identity unspools in all areas of the cinemas opening act as gritty U.S Treasury Director Ray King( J.K. Simmons) ropes loath specialist Marybeth Medina( Cynthia Addai-Robinson) into hunting him down through the only breadcrumbs he has: photos of an unidentified person in a dres and the nagging suspicion that hes the key to something large-hearted . Meanwhile, Wolffs taken his latest gig tracking $61 million thats gone missing from the ledgers of a major cybernetic robotics make run by Lamar Black( John Lithgow ).

But just as Wolff starts to math his road toward figuring out the villain, executives start croaking and his campaign is cut short, wreaking hell on its capability to cope with the chaos. Ordinarily hed fastening himself in the dark and pulsate his shins with a wooden dowel while listening to metal, as you do.( If youre looking for any deep understanding of how tribes on the spectrum actually live, you wont find it here .) Instead, this time, he goes on the run with Dana( a charmingly chatty Anna Kendrick ), the junior numbers-cruncher also privy to the fiscal infringement, setting a collision course with a shadowy-but-flashy bravo( Jon Bernthal) and the feds hot on his trail.

Once The Accountant s story get leading, it stupefies with bullet-flying war and winking humor. One of its most entertaining moments steams down to a simple wave of the handa tiny throwaway gesticulate that manages to be the best-timed punchline in the entire movie. Other highlightings happen when Afflecks reclusive Wolff begrudgingly makes his picket down with the spunky Dana, and shares with her his most sacred seat: a 34 -foot Airstream trailer filled with priceless art and all his getaway currency, his superspy drawer of passports and faux identities next to a meticulously targeted Star Wars lightsaber.

All the while, unfortunately, were yanked out of the present to flash back to Wolffs past. Some parents school their boys to throw a schoolyard punch. Realise his sons ailment would differentiate him as different, Wolffs Army vet single father subjected him to years of brutal martial-arts training so hed become a fighter , not a prey. Its a provocative idea and one whose franknes is underscored by the X-Men-style school for children with developmental disorders that plays a key role in the plot. One in 68 children placed in America are diagnosed as on the spectrum, the cinema teaches its captive gathering. We should learn “childrens issues” its what realizes them different that obligates them specialeven if that lesson is autistic girls can grow up to be stone-cold bravoes, too.

Admirably enough, OConnor doesnt seem to care that his head-spinning mlange of categories and ambiances is bound to try the patience of his audience. It is what it is: a hit man drama-thriller-mystery that champs autism as a figure of underappreciated superheroism. The flaws dont contradict that bold raison detre , even if The Accountant suffered from too many of them. For one, it has more attributes than it was able to administer. It turns between droning exposition, bone-crunching action, too many flashbacks, and brief instants of fiction and feeling. And its steadfast demand on trumpeting itself as a organize of R-rated hyperviolent autism advocacy is uncharted cinematic country, to say the least.

Its actually more like The Bourne Identity satisfies A Beautiful Mind so much so that Affleck even gets to furrow his countenance and converge real hard through a montage scribbling fleshes on the windows and openings of an office, just like John Nash. Tragically, the last circumstance the already flat Affleck requires is to play a humorless boulder of a character who struggles to communicate and read psychological clues. You can see Affleck patently trying to give his high-functioning hero a sense of legitimacy, but it predominantly happens off as unintentionally wooden where reference is not applying his laser focus on humbling his adversaries to demise. Afflecks an actor best suited to more outwardly emotional douchebag personas that tap into his innate bro-iness. But his painfully penalty Wolff speaks in a stilted soft-spoken silence, and gulps methodically at his hands before doing anythingwhether its dining dinner or performing an scrutiny. But Affleck fights to transmit how viscerally discomfited the person is by most social locations and how longingly he would love to feel the human rights communications that evade him. Its not a good look for him since he manages to muster simply a few variances on the same stoic gape through two hours and change onscreen.

And hitherto the times he actually does stumble a self-aware flute, the strangest studio movie of the yearinclusive felony thriller, advocacy actioner, the only movie youll ever should be noted that big-ups both 19 th -century German mathematician Carl Gauss and Dogs Playing Poker with equal reverencebegs even more of Afflecks autistic war hero. I did not expect to miss his awkward person shtick on screen when he wasnt on it, but that very unlikely occasion happened during one heinously wearisome situation of third-act explanation. OConnors niftiest ruse is that he manages to pull The Accountant back from the verge at least long enough to make a speciman for meeting more of Afflecks Accountant in future sequels. He contacts his full capacity while scrapping his acces through a climactic panorama set inside a sprawling indulgence dwelling under siege, acquiring psychological catharsis in the middle of a gunfight. Jason Bourne might have been able to do that, very, but could he likewise get you fund back on your tax return?