#and that I hadn't set up the backup code

[hyper-trash-panda]

Teaser: Bad Boys - Legacy

Fandom: “Bad Boys” movie franchise

Storyline: Continues the franchise after “Bad Boys: Ride or Die”

Timeline: Three-ish years following ROD

Warnings: Guns I guess?

In the fifth installment of the Bad Boys franchise, Miami is under siege as a potent new drug dubbed Helios has flooded the streets, leaving a trail of chaos and mass casualties. The narcotic's rapid spread threatens to overwhelm the city, pushing Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett to the brink as they scramble to uncover its source with the help of their next in line: Former Marine Reggie and recently acquitted fugitive Armando.

The Miami skyline raced by in a blur as Mike Lowrey's Porsche 911 rocketed down the sunlit streets. Traffic parted reluctantly in the car's wake, horns blaring as the sleek vehicle wove through lanes with reckless precision. Mike's jaw was set, his eyes narrowed behind his Ray-Bans with determination as he ignored the pounding in his chest.

Beside him, Marcus Burnett clutched the door handle, his knuckles white, eyes wide with a mix of fear and frustration. He braced himself as they narrowly missed a delivery truck, the tires screeching in protest.

“Mike, man, slow down! I didn't sign up for the Daytona 500!" Marcus's voice was strained, each word laced with anxiety as his stomach churned, his breakfast threatening to make a return visit.

Mike didn't glance over, his eyes locked on the road ahead. "We're late. And if you hadn't stuffed your face with that stack of pancakes, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Marcus groaned, leaning his head back against the seat. "I told you, my metabolism ain't what it used to be! I needed a good breakfast to get me through the day."

"You needed a good breakfast? Or you needed to sample the whole damn menu?" Mike shot back, swerving around a taxi that had stopped abruptly. The sharp turn caused Marcus's stomach to lurch, and he swallowed hard, regretting the third helping of bacon.

"I swear, you always gotta bring up my eating habits when we're in a life-threatening situation," Marcus muttered, clutching his stomach.

"Oh, your life gone be threatened alright if you so much as drool on my leather seats." Mike snapped.

From the back seat, Reggie, Marcus's son-in-law and new recruit to the Miami PD, leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "Uh, sir, this speed is unlawful given that we're not in pursuit of a suspect. According to Miami's police code of conduct, officers are required to maintain—"

"Reggie, shut up!" Mike barked, cutting off the younger man. "We're late, and I don't need a lecture on driving.”

Reggie, still trying to process the banter, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sir, I'm just trying to follow protocol."

"Protocol's for rookies," Mike snapped, turning his attention back to the road. "And last I checked, you're riding with the best. So buckle up, kid."

Marcus shot Reggie a sympathetic look, though he was clearly not thrilled about the situation himself. "Mike, he's got a point. The kid's just doing what he's been trained to do. Besides, we're supposed to be setting a good example as his shadowees."

Mike glanced at Marcus, an eyebrow raised. "Shadowees? The only reason he's even allowed to shadow us is because you're sweet on the receptionist who pushed the paperwork through."

Marcus bristled, his voice defensive. "I'm not sweet on her. I'm just polite and charismatic—something you wouldn't know nothing about."

"I wonder how 'polite' Theresa would be if she found out just how 'charismatic' you've been." Mike shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hey, now!" Marcus's eyes widened, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "Ain't nobody being anything but polite. Don't start something you can't finish, Mike."

Before either could respond, the radio crackled to life, cutting through the tension in the car. "All units, be advised, we have a 10-80 in progress near Biscayne Boulevard. Suspect vehicle is a black SUV, heading northbound. Requesting backup."

Mike's eyes lit up with sudden interest, and he gunned the engine, the Porsche surging forward with impossible speed. "Well, would you look at that. Sounds like our kind of party."

"Mike, you can't just—" Marcus began, but his words were drowned out by the roar of the engine as Mike made a sharp turn toward the boulevard.

"Can't what, Marcus?" Mike snapped, his voice edged with impatience. "According to Poindexter back there, we ain't supposed to drive like this unless we're chasing a suspect."

Mike smirked as he pushed the car to an even more reckless speed. "I'm just trying to set a good example as a shadowee."

Reggie fumbled for his seatbelt, his eyes wide as he prepared for whatever chaos was about to unfold. "Sir, are we engaging?"

"Hell yeah we are!" Mike grinned, his tension replaced with the adrenaline that only a high-speed chase could bring. "Bad Boys for life."

Marcus sighed, his stomach knotting even tighter. "Bad Boys for life," he muttered, knowing there was no turning back now.

The Porsche hurtled down the streets of Miami, the roar of its engine echoing through the concrete jungle as the radio crackled with updates from the chopper overhead, its pilot providing a bird's-eye view of the chase.

"Suspect is heading northbound on Collins Avenue, approaching the airport," the dispatcher's voice crackled through the speakers.

"Well, isn't that convenient," Marcus muttered, gripping the dashboard as Mike took another sharp turn, the tires squealing in protest.

"There he is!" Mike pointed ahead where a black SUV was weaving through traffic, trying to shake off its pursuers. "We're in this now, Joker. Time to show 'em how the big boys play."

Marcus squinted at the SUV speeding ahead, his heart pounding as he took in the chaotic scene. Civilians scattered, cars swerving out of the way as the chase tore through the city.

"Alright, Marcus, shoot out his tires!" Mike ordered, eyes locked on the target.

Marcus's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Hell no! There are too many civilian vehicles out here, Mike. You trying to get someone killed?"

From the back seat, Reggie interjected with a nervous glance at the manual in his hand. "Actually, according to the handbook, we're supposed to request the driver to pull over through the intercom first—"

"Reggie, I don't care what the handbook says!" Mike barked, cutting him off. "Marcus, shoot out the damn tires!"

Marcus shook his head adamantly, his hands clenched tight. "I'm not shooting in the middle of all this traffic. Do a pit maneuver or something!"

Mike's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he scowled. "I'm not messing up the new paint job on my car for this fool."

Marcus shot him a disbelieving look. "So you'd rather I risk shooting a civilian than scratch your precious car?"

Mike huffed, frustration mounting. "You won't hit a civilian if you put on your damn glasses before you fire."

Marcus opened his mouth to argue, but Mike was done with the back-and-forth. He turned his head slightly to the back seat. "Reggie, shoot out the tires."

Reggie's eyes widened. "Is that an order, sir?"

"Damn right it is!" Mike snapped as he hit a button, opening the sunroof of the Porsche.

Reggie swallowed hard, then reached out, taking the gun Mike handed him with disciplined hands. Standing up through the roof, he positioned himself for the shot, his military training kicking in as he steadied his aim. The wind whipped around him, but Reggie's focus was unshakable.

With perfect precision, he fired two shots, the bullets hitting their mark and blowing out the SUV's back tires. The suspect's vehicle swerved wildly, its speed dropping as the driver struggled to regain control.

Reggie dropped back down into the car, his breath coming in short bursts, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Tires neutralized, sir."

Mike flashed a grin as he maneuvered the Porsche closer to the now-crippled SUV which careened wildly as it barreled toward the passenger pickup area of Miami International Airport. The tires left dark streaks on the pavement as the driver fought for control. Smoke began billowing from under the hood, the engine pushed beyond its limits.

"Pull over and stop the vehicle!" Marcus's voice boomed over the intercom, but it was clear the SUV had no more fight left. The engine coughed, then with a final groan, it blew out, sending a cloud of smoke into the air. The SUV slowed to a crawl, finally rolling to a stop right in front of the airport's sliding glass doors.

Mike brought the Porsche to a screeching halt in front of the smoking SUV, his eyes sharp and focused. "Showtime, boys," he said as he threw the car into park.

In unison, Mike, Marcus, and Reggie exited the vehicle, guns drawn and pointed at the SUV. Civilians in the area scattered, some ducking behind pillars and parked cars as the trio approached the suspect's vehicle with the practiced precision of seasoned cops.

"Hands where I can see 'em!" Mike barked as they neared the driver's side.

The door creaked open, and a man stumbled out, coughing and waving his hands in surrender. Before he could even think about making a run for it, Marcus was on him. He grabbed the suspect by the collar, yanking him from the SUV and slamming him onto the hood of Mike's Porsche with a force that made the man wince.

"You're under arrest, jackass," Marcus growled, snapping a pair of handcuffs around the man's wrists. "Don't move unless you wanna get to know my bullets real well."

As Marcus secured the suspect, more officers arrived on the scene, their flashing lights adding to the chaos. Marcus handed the suspect over to a pair of uniformed cops, then turned back to Mike, who was still watching the scene with a careful eye.

"Alright, suspect's in custody," Marcus said, wiping his hands on his pants as he approached his partner. "Not bad for a morning's work."

But Mike wasn't listening. His gaze had shifted, his focus drawn to the figure standing just beyond the smoke, his silhouette becoming clearer as the cloud dissipated. Although it had been over three years since he last saw the man, Armando hadn’t changed since; standing there with his duffel bags slung over his shoulder, a bemused expression on his face.

Mike holstered his gun and approached his son with an apologetic smile. "Sorry I'm a little late for pickup," he said, trying for a light tone as he gestured back at the chaos behind him. "Got stuck in some traffic."

Armando stood there, his face a mask of indifference. Without a word, he rolled his eyes and walked right past Mike's open arms, heading straight for the trunk of the Porsche. He tossed his bags in with a casual ease, as if this kind of thing happened every day.

Mike lowered his arms, the smile fading as he watched his son's retreating back. He sighed, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

As Marcus walked over, having finished briefing the other officers, he took in the scene and couldn't resist. "Well, at least the kid's punctual," he joked, clapping Mike on the back.

Mike shot him a look that could melt steel. "Not now, Marcus."

"Hey, just trying to lighten the mood, man." Marcus raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin on his face said he wasn't all that sorry.

Mike shook his head, glancing back at Armando, who was now leaning against the Porsche, waiting. The distance between them felt like miles.

"Let's just get outta here," Mike muttered, brushing past Marcus to head toward the car.

[rapid-prototyping-project]

HUD improvements

As my HUD is fairly empty, I've decided it should be the first thing to be redesigned. As TETRIS had a similar problem to me with its gameplay area and screen space, I'll be using them as inspiration

My first decision was to update the text. As I can't make fonts, I elected to use the same system as I did for health in Tempting Fate, using sprites. I recreated the code and began working on my sprites

Originally, they had little starts and moons. However, they just made it look infected so I cut them from the design. The gradient is to stay consistent with my game's palette.

For whatever reason, the number displayed was 1 higher than the value of lives left so I bodged it and had them direct to a number 1 lower. I didn't like this solution but it did work

My display for the text initially looked like this, with a gold border. However, it just didn't work with my game so I went for a luminescant blue

I still hate this. I tried reducing the number to a neon sign but it just doesn't work

So, if I can't make a good HUD, I won't. There won't be a HUD - at least in widget form. That's right, I'm making a 3D one. God help me.

For my first 3D HUD item, I'll need a life counter in the form of a bar. This will need to get the current life count, set the bar to a corresponding height and lerp to a smaller height when an event is called.

This code is a mess but it works as intended. i had a little issue about it lerping from 0, but that was because I hadn't set a default value for the max health. Now, I just need to reuse the code from Shipping Delay on the crane's rope to make it seem like one side of the cube is going down.

I tried doing it myself. It didn't work.

BUT THIS DID. I realised my rope in Shipping Delay used a different way of doing this, that I hadn't used a lerp node for moving the cube, and that it actually was moving, just not enough. Now it's done, I really like how it looks :D

alright it wasn't perfect. When the player's life count reaches 0, the bar bugs out - it goes back from 2 to 1, but without going up so both top and bottom move. Basically, it looks weird.

I have identified the problem. The life count REALLY doesn't want to go to 0. It will go 3-2, 2-1 and then 1-1. WHY? I DON'T KNOW. Correction: its perfectly happy goinng to 0. It just hates going down a third time.

Changing this check in my killbox DOES kind of fix it. The player does have 4 lives, and the last animation does play the previous one, but it's in the right place again. Huh

I FIXED IT KIND OF My solution is foul but it DOES work. I copied the code form the false tree into the true tree after the life check in my killbox and added an open level node. This solution is terrible, but you wouldn't know that by the gameplay.

look at that health bar go

I've added a small fram around the block to help get an idea of scale for how many lives are left

Sam gave me the idea to implement a colour system - I plan to do this by lerping between differend colour variables

'what did it cost you' 'everything' oh who am I kidding I love this. It's awful. It also works - it goes from blue to green, green to yellow, and a backup yellow to blue one in case I mess something up.

This, however, doesn't work. As I sit here typing this, I just realised why. These nodes happpen on update from the timeline, so I need to ensure they aren't happening every tick of the animation.

I showed my code to Jake. After about 10 minutes of suffering and trying to understand what I was doing and why, he showed that I could just use the above nodes instead. Then we spoke about Yugoslavia, but that's unrelated. At any rate, I now know a prettier way of writing that code

As for the little heart below the bar, I tried making it pulsate but this didn't work. I also swapped it out for an image of an actual human heart. Alas, i have reverted both as neither worked.

Adding this code to my heart sprite should have allowed it to shake, and switch the sprite to a more broken one, but for whatever reason it went too far left. I fixed this in the image below.

This was then duplicated for the other heart sprites.

[respheal]

Phishing Scams: The BTC Scare

Here’s a bit of a different thing, but I’m in the mood to ramble:

Credentials: For my dayjob, I’m the manager of system administration for a web host, in my current position after spending three years as a CentOS sysadmin. My specialty is in identifying and quarantining phishing scams, spam cannons, and hacked websites in general. I am the exim -Mrm in the darkness. I am the ps aux on the shell. I am the filter that guards the inboxes of men.

And I’m seeing this message goin’ around at the moment:

So I wanna straighten out some facts here:

The only way anyone can send a message using your tumblr account is if they have your password or if they're controlling your computer remotely (which, trust me, you’d know if they were. Remotely controlling a computer is typically pretty damn blatant, like the mouse moving or things being typed on their own). 

A virus cannot extract your tumblr password from your computer passively because your password is not stored in plaintext (i.e. unencrypted) on your computer...unless you’ve saved it in a text document or something. Don’t do that.

A virus could get your password if it’s a keylogger (that is, it records the keys you type), but that’s likely not what’s going on here

More likely, what’s going on here is a combination of previously-compromised accounts getting utilized (It’s pretty dang common for hackers to build a collection of comp’d accounts and then blast from all of them at once) or, if there are indeed links in these spam messages (which I’ve yet to see despite asking for examples to check out), this is also a phishing scam to get more compromised accounts.

For the first, basic password security:

Never use a password in more than one location unless you are okay with all of those accounts getting compromised. All of them. I have a crappy password that I use on junk/temporary services when I don’t want to bother with a good password and I know for a fact that password is compromised, so any account I use that password on is compromised from the get-go. When your password is compromised on any site, hackers can add that to their dictionaries to try out on other websites.

Rotate passwords frequently and don’t reuse old passwords.

If your password is on any of these lists, change it right now.

If your password is listed on this page, please go stand in a corner and rethink your life.

Yes, you too, Equifax. In the corner you go.

Don’t write it down. But no, you don’t have to memorize it. More on that in a bit (I don’t even know any but one of my own passwords. and that’s the password to unlock my password manager).

Don’t save your password on public computers. That feature in browsers to store your password? Fine at home because it’s stored encrypted, but never use this feature on any computer that others might use.

Password complexity is your friend. The longer the password and the more complex (special characters, combinations of letters/cases, no dictionary words), the better. Longer, however, is better than complex. If a service says your password can be 6-20 characters, make it 20.

Generating a unique complex password for every service would suck if you had to do it yourself. Instead, I recommend using a password manager. Personally I use KeePass. It stores your password database, encrypted, on your computer and works on just about everything (even smart phones). I would recommend against using a password manager that’s on the cloud (that is, not installed locally on your computer)--that just moves the database into a location that’s easier for hackers to reach.

Additionally, and if you only take away one tip from this, let it be this one:

TURN ON TWO-FACTOR AUTHENTICATION.

Doesn’t matter if you get the authorization code via SMS or an app, but two-factor authentication (aka 2FA) basically makes it so your account has a second password that resets every few seconds. Good frickin’ luck hacking that. Possible? Yes. Plausible? Pffft.

If given the option, use an app for 2FA rather than sms. It’s still way better than nothing, but app 2FA is more secure than sms 2FA because sms isn’t a fully secure system in itself. Google Authenticator and Authy are two free 2FA apps.

I would also like to say that this 2FA moment was one of the more satisfying things in my life and might never be topped:

Passwords get compromised typically in one of three ways: brute force, phished, or data breaches (from the common desk sticky note to lousy website security), or phished.

Brute force attacks are when a hacker spams a password form with thousands of different username/password combinations in the hopes that they find a working one. Depending on the commonness of the password or complexity, this could take anywhere from a few attempts and a couple seconds, to trillions of attempts and decades.

(As a point of trivia, in November/December 2016, thousands of Wordpress websites underwent brute force attacks to their login pages, wp-login.php. Wordpress, by default, had no way to secure against this, placing the onus on hosting companies or site owners to implement a solution.)

Data breaches happen when the hacker obtains a password, either by violating the physical security of a computer and its workspace (e.g. the sticky note or text document with the password on it) or by compromising a server storing passwords (encrypted or not). The notorious Equifax breach earlier this year was one of these, as was the good ol’ Ashley Madison hack.

Lastly, phishing. This is the other possibility for where these tumblr scams are coming from. Phishing is when a fake or hacked website pretends to be a legitimate website in order to trick users into entering their personal information. There are a million different flavors of phish, but it all boils down to getting tricked into putting info where it shouldn’t go. Phishing scams are commonly done over email (The “Nigerian Prince” scam is one) or by directing users to click a link that goes to a site that looks legit.

Like, seriously legit.

Source: https://www.welivesecurity.com/2017/01/27/paypal-users-targeted-sophisticated-new-phishing-campaign/

Phishers use a combination of disguise and panic to get users to enter information into malicious forms. The information gained can then be used to send out more phishing scams or spam from your own account, or even steal your identity.

When it comes to phishing, the best possible advice I can give you is to be vigilant. Avoid clicking suspicious links. Read the entire URL in your address bar to make sure you’re in the right place before filling in sensitive forms. Use two-factor authentication to make sure that your account is only accessible to you. If you come across a phishing scam, report it to the entity being faked and they can contact the right people to get it taken down.

Although you should be rotating your credentials frequently anyway *pointed look*, you can find out if you have accounts in any places that have been previously compromised here: https://haveibeenpwned.com/

Fun fact, tumblr was one of the pwn’d sites back in 2013!

Anyway, the tl;dr of all this is...

TURN ON TWO-FACTOR AUTHENTICATION.

[princesseblade]

Hey, so I saw ur post about infinite darkness' ending and I was wondering what RE Vendetta is all about. I've only seen resident evil's recent games and remakes so I'm pretty rusty with the lore. What ever happens to Cleon in the canonverse and with the path Infinite Darkness prompts them to take?

Sure I got you so:

RE Vendetta takes place in 2014* EIGHT (count em) odd years after Infinite Darkness, before I get started this is why the timeline frustrates me so much in REverse because there's too many huge time jumps that are void of information and I really wish they hadn't done that; the first 5 original games:

RE 0, 1, 2, 3 and Code Veronica all take place in 1998

RE4 jumps all the way to 2004, RE5 2009 and RE6 2013

there isn't too much lore to be rusty on because after RECV it's blank there's just NO information about how anyone is doing or whos interacting with who sans some measly files but we never actually get to see any meaningful relationships play out platonic/ familial/ working/romantic or otherwise.

Anyway in Vendetta Leon and Chris team up to stop a bioweapons dealer who has a grudge against the US government Also Rebecca is there.(but who cares I don't) Leon is over people dying around him and he's really questioning what his life is and he sees the government as being just as bad.

And so with Infinite Darkness, this seems to be Capcom's way of padding out the timeline and working backwards into a "how we got here" situation, it's why I'm not understanding all of the commotion about how ID ended and why some Cleon shippers are acting like it got nuked and that the pair were acting OOC when thats just not true.

Leon here is at the start of his career as a government agent(RE4 only happened 2 years ago), and a core part of his character is his wide eyed idealism of justice and the law to a fault and we begin to see the hairline fractures in his ideology starting here. Claire is a passionate member of Terrasave(established in RE: Degeneration which takes place a year before this) because of her connection with Sherry and her love for children and family; her core theme.

They both want the same goal but have to do it their own way Claire even says that verbatim, but it's completely in character for Leon to have kept the chip because he's doing it to protect her who's not seeing that? It's why he says to himself that he'll fix this, She was already almost killed for the little bit she did uncover? I love Claire and she's got spunk but leaking the whole thing to the media woulda been to quote Leon "something stupid" this is the same girl who went in guns blazing into a heavily armed Umbrella facility in Paris with no backup looking for her brother, it was badass but ultimately she got caught and jailed on a torture island sooo??? Claire can be too rash, I can't really blame Leon for his motivations however misguided and lowkey chauvinist they are lol j/k.

This is such a common drama trope actually and lowkey romantic for him to risk his standing with Claire and have her think lesser of him all to keep her safe, it's set up that way too because all Claire could see in that moment is him looking like a government lapdog. It's (hopefully) building up and establishing a more nuanced dynamic between Leon and Claire, because with the way things are going I don't think either will be in any more new numbered games.

[masterwords]

Blaze Like Meteors

Warnings: Alcohol and some sexual harassment. This chapter is pretty tame but it's about to get pretty unpleasant.

Notes: Ask and ye shall receive. I was far more inspired to get this going than I was to continue The Louder the Better today, so you get this. Yeah, we'll get two WIPs going and you won't know which one you're getting a chapter of each day. This is going to be at least two parts, maybe three. Inspired by the anon ask for Hotch & Morgan fake dating for a case and ending in a confession. I'M ABOUT IT. (Title comes from Dylan Thomas' poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night") 2340 words.

“Chocolate Thunder? Do you read me Chocolate Thunder?”

“Yes, Garcia, loud and clear. You know you're only patched in to my ear piece, no one else can hear you...” Morgan fiddled with the bud in his ear, adjusting it slightly so it didn't bother him so much. No matter how many times he wore one, it always hurt. Why the FBI couldn't improve their technology along with all other ear bud manufacturers was beyond him and he pressed it harder, twisted it until it was wedged in tight and easily missed by anyone looking at him.

“Okay but you need to use my code name, we talked about this. If I'm going to let you go out and do this...this thing...”

“My job...”

“THIS THING...then code names. You promised.”

“Garcia, I can't talk to you when I'm out there, you know that. It's going to be fine. Hotch and I can take care of ourselves, and we've got plenty of backup if anything goes wrong.”

He heard her sigh and grunt loudly, heard the clicking of her fingers on the keyboard, and he could feel the heat of her frustration from the next room. He stood up and sauntered toward her door, not bothering to knock before entering her lair.

“Penelope...” he said softly, standing just inside the doorway, arms folded over his chest, cutting an imposing figure in the shadows of her machines. “You giving me the silent treatment isn't really how it works either. Do I need to get JJ to do this instead?” That was all it took before she spun around in her chair and narrowed her eyes at Morgan. If she hadn't been wearing a fuzzy chartreuse sweater and rainbow glasses, he might be intimidated, but he just wanted to wrap her in a hug and assure her it was going to be okay, that he and Hotch would both walk away from this assignment with a fun story to tell and nothing more.

In Hotch's office, Rossi was trying to talk him out of it. “This is rural North Carolina, Aaron, not New York City.”

“I'm aware of where we're headed,” was Hotch's soft reply as he double checked his go bag for the clothing he would need. “Are you ready to go?”

“There has to be another way. There is dangerous and then there is just plain stupid. You're on target to hit both in record time.”

“I'll see you on the jet, Dave.”

The highway stretched out before them, their old rust bucket barreling down the abandoned stretch of highway. A mile or so behind them a nondescript work van followed, hardly trying to keep up with Morgan and his lead foot, just trying to keep them in view. Hotch rested in the passenger seat, flipping through the case file on his lap, brow furrowed. He knew he would be the main target and he wanted as much information about the unsubs and the methods they used committed to memory as he could before they arrived at the bar. The car smelled like cigarette butts and incense, and the leather bucket seat had holes from dropped cigarettes peppering the space between he and Morgan. The State Troopers had pulled the car out of the impound lot for the occasion, empty beer cans and parking tickets in the dash and all. It was set to go to auction though Hotch thought it was better suited to the scrap yard but who was he to judge.

“Wish my mind worked like Reid's,” Hotch muttered, and Morgan laughed, shaking his head. He closed the case file and let his head fall back against the seat. He was already exhausted and they hadn't even gotten started yet.

“No,” Morgan said softly, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. “You don't.”

Miles stretched out, and soon the nothing gave way to farmhouses dotting the hillside and a looming water tower at the edge of the horizon. “We're getting close,” Hotch announced, peering at the GPS on his phone. The bar was just beyond the hill they were preparing to crest. Twilight sun pooled on the burnt straw and the asphalt radiated heat in waves ahead of them like a black sea. Hotch felt his insides twist along with the road, winding the serpentine path up and then down, and the bar came into view. A speck of neon lights and pick up trucks in the vast sea of nothing. Morgan pulled over to the side of the road and waited for the van to come up behind them, agents spilling out into the arid summer heat. Hotch kicked at a dead crow on the side of the road, nudging it into the dried grass and watching as the feasting insects did their best to follow their food. That could be him by tomorrow morning, he thought with a grim sort of satisfaction. Lying on the side of some forgotten highway, belly full of maggots. He couldn't tell you why his mind detoured like that so often, but he kept it to himself and approached the agents milling around, waiting for him to speak.

“You guys sure about this?” Rossi asked, giving them one more opportunity to back out. Hotch shot him a scowl that just said not again (look at me, Rossi, I'm already dressed for the part just shut up) and looked at Reid and Garcia expectantly.

“Are you two ready?”

“Are you?” Prentiss asked, butting in, narrowing her eyes at Hotch. She'd been too quiet since they'd hatched their plan with the North Carolina State Troopers, but she'd been throwing looks, rolling her eyes, clearly displeased with their idea. Morgan rolled his eyes and stepped in front of Hotch.

“Cut it out, guys. We're doing this. Now that bar up there is getting hit tonight, we know it, they've hit every Wednesday night for the last three weeks and if Reid's calculations are right, this is it, this is our chance. If we don't go in there, someone else will get hurt and we know it. Does everyone understand their role? We don't get outta there safely I'm coming for you clowns.”

“Morgan,” Hotch said softly, taking the conversation back. “Let's go. The sun is setting, if we don't get there soon they'll already have selected their targets.”

To anyone in the bar, they just looked like locals. Morgan sauntered in with his t-shirt ripped and covered in axle grease, carpenter pants holding all sorts of tools and weapons and a trucker's cap that had seen better days, advertising a beer that hadn't been popular since the 1970s. His boots were covered in splotches of paint and grease and the tread was filled with mud and grass. Hotch stood beside him, Morgan's hand slipped effortlessly beneath the flannel shirt around his waist and into the back pocket of his worn, ripped up jeans slung just a little too low on his waist. His t-shirt bore the mark of a faded Misfits logo and his converse sneakers had seen better days. They made their way to the bar and asked for two of whatever beer was on special, it wasn't often you could drink for a dollar anymore but on this abandoned stretch of highway they found themselves pleasantly surprised. It might have been piss beer, but it got you drunk just the same. Sometimes better, it went down a lot faster when you didn't care to taste it. They both downed their first glasses right there and asked for another round before making their way into the crowd, to sway along with everyone else to the sounds of the southern rock cover band up on the stage. From further away, they appeared to look just like any other band you'd expect at some summertime outdoor festival, but up close their years betrayed them. They croaked out song after song, throwing out slow jams more often than anything heavy, and it was all just familiar enough that Morgan and Hotch could sway along together, all hands and beer breath and smiles. This wasn't their first go at this charade, they fell into it easier and easier each time they were asked to do it. Hotch finished his beer first and drug Morgan back to the bar with him, hands twisted together between them, and he walked with an easy swagger that didn't come naturally to him, he'd had to work on it over the years. Two more beers, and they could feel eyes on them now from somewhere. No one close by, everyone in the crowd was wholly immersed in their own little game of groping, some to the point of being what Hotch would consider indecent, but then, this was not his stomping ground.

“To your right,” came Reid's voice in Hotch's ear, and he glanced slowly until he saw the smaller man just a few feet away from him, stepping anxiously from foot to foot, fidgeting. Every so often his eyes darted to where Hotch stood and then away, almost shamefully. Hotch bumped Morgan a little, inclined his head, and Morgan nodded. “He's been watching you for a while,” Reid said and Hotch squeezed Morgan's hand just a little tighter, his attention ahead again on the stage. He watched the singer light up a joint, take a long drag, and pass it around the stage. He blew the smoke out of his nostrils like a big hairy dragon before leaping into the next song, and the fidgety little man stepped closer to Hotch, slipping between people until he was close enough to give Hotch goosebumps.

“You're not from here,” the man stammered and Hotch flashed his biggest smile, twinkling eyes downcast momentarily and shrugged.

“Just passing through,” he offered, and the man nodded nervously, accepting the answer without further questions. Instead, he changed the subject.

“You guys game for a round of pool? My buddies and I are always lookin' for new blood.” Interesting choice of words, Hotch thought bitterly.

“I could smack some balls around,” Morgan declared and Hotch felt his neck flush, he'd forgotten exactly how embarrassing Morgan could be when he put in even minimal effort. “Your friends just wanna wipe the table with some outta towners?”

The smaller man smiled and shrugged, shifting his weight from foot to foot again. “Yeah. Somethin' like that. Beers on us, my buddy's dad owns the place.”

“Can't turn down hospitality like that. I'm Derek, this is Aaron...what's your name?”

“James,” he replied, leading them away from the crowded floor still swaying in unison to another song that sounded just like the thirty before it. Maybe it was all the same song, neither of them could tell for sure.

“Whiskey?” James asked, handing a shot to Hotch, while Morgan readied their pool cues. They clinked their glasses together and shot the amber liquid quickly back. There was a moment that Hotch wondered if something had been done to his drink, they hadn't found anything in the victims' systems but all of those drugs were metabolized so quickly and these unsubs held their victims long enough that it wouldn't ever show. Still, he felt safe with Morgan, knew that they wouldn't target him in the same way so at least one of them would have a clear head. If he got sick, he got sick, he had a job to do and that came with a certain level of risk. Maybe his tolerance for risk taking was a little higher than the bureau would prefer, but here he was. Hotch smacked his lips together, swallowing the musky burn of the smoky liquid and set the glass down. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, turning his eyes up at Morgan now standing beside him, arm looping around his shoulders protectively.

“Let's cool it, baby, we got a long ride ahead of us tonight...” he cooed, pressing his face against Hotch's head, breathing in the soapy scent. He'd always loved the way Hotch smelled, the way he never bothered with cologne, he just smelled simple and clean like soap and a hint of dryer sheets.

“We gonna do this thing or what?” The question came from one of the other men, the bigger men who looked almost like mirror images of each other to Hotch's fuzzy eyes. They were the size of mountains, with shoulders that joined directly to their ears and Hotch imagined himself in one of their shirts, a tiny smirk playing across his features when he realized the shirts would easily come down to his knees. Morgan handed him a pool cue and they set to, each of them taking a turn, shit talking, laughing, and the piss beer flowed like water through them. Hotch bent over, angling for his shot, and felt one of the bigger men come up behind him, thick meaty hands grabbing at his sides, pressing into his sharp hip bones and he leaned in close.

“You gonna sink it?” he asked, his beer breath hot on the back of Hotch's neck. Suppressing a shiver, Hotch did his best to ignore the imposition and rammed his pool cue back just enough that it hit the man square in the belly, gentle enough not to be confrontational though he'd wanted to put it clean through.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Can I get a little space?”

“Sure thing, darlin',” the man replied, giving Hotch's hips a quick squeeze before he backed up, just enough not to get hit again but not nearly enough for Hotch's comfort. Morgan watched the scene play out, anger gnawing at his insides, using every ounce of strength inside of him to keep his feet firmly planted where they were when all he wanted to do was leap across the table and take the man's head off right between his second and third chin.

Next Chapter ->

[impatient-traveler]

Basically I'd been battling this bs for hours (console suddenly decided to not boot and throw a code-less "fatal system error" at me) and when finally the option to reset to default settings worked and it booted I foolishly set the online backups to auto. Then launched the game. My saves weren't there. PS4 went OMG NEW SAVES LET'S UPLOAD THEM and immediately uploaded them to cloud. You know. The new, empty ones. That booting up the game created (I hadn't even launched the actual game just booted into menu)

Please help a fellow nerd out ;-;

Guys, my PS4 threw a fit and almost bricked, followed by deleting my save files… And then overwriting my cloud saves with empty ones as soon as I booted up the game to see my saves weren’t there. And no, I didn’t have USB sick backups… because I only got a USB stick the day this mess happened.

The internet is super unhelpful, but from what I can tell I can’t recover my saves in any way. And I can’t find any solid info on saves swapping either, which I understand because it’s technically cheating.

But I lost hundreds of hours of gameplay. I lost my hard earned max level (got it last week), all the photos I hadn’t yet screengrabbed, I lost all the stuff I farmed for hours like the dumb Afrosword, and all my missable content like the ChocoMog Carnival things and the AssFest robes and shield.

Point being

If you have any information on how to either magic my saves back into existence or download and use a save file that at least has the missable content on it, please please please help me out

Or just signal boost this, I swear it’ll mean the world to me.