#automatic control valve

[prabhaelectronics]

Self-closing valve with Prabha Electronics

In industrial settings, maintaining control over fluid and gas flow is crucial for both safety and efficiency. The Self-Closing Valve by Prabha Electronics offers an innovative solution to address these needs, providing automatic shut-off functionality that enhances operational reliability and safety.

What is a Self-Closing Valve?

A Self-Closing Valve is a specialized device designed to automatically seal itself when the flow of fluid or gas stops. This mechanism is particularly valuable in preventing leaks and reducing the need for manual intervention. Ensuring that the valve closes without human input, not only simplifies operation but also enhances overall safety by minimizing the risk of accidental leakage.

Key Benefits of Self-Closing Valves

Automatic Operation: One of the standout features of Self-Closing Valves is their automatic closure capability. This means that once the fluid or gas flow is interrupted, the valve seals itself without requiring manual adjustments. This automatic function is particularly beneficial in high-pressure environments where manual operation may be impractical.

Leak Prevention: By closing automatically when not in use, these valves significantly reduce the likelihood of leaks. This is essential for maintaining the integrity of systems and preventing potential hazards associated with fluid or gas leakage.

Durability and Reliability: Prabha Electronics’ Self-Closing Valves are built to withstand harsh conditions and high pressures. Their robust construction ensures long-term durability, making them a reliable choice for various industrial applications.

Versatility: These valves are designed for versatility, suitable for a wide range of fluids and gases. Whether you’re dealing with manufacturing processes, automotive applications, or chemical handling, the Self-Closing Valve provides a dependable solution.

Ease of Installation: Designed with user convenience in mind, Self-Closing Valves are straightforward to install and integrate into existing systems. This ease of installation helps to streamline operations and reduce downtime.

Applications Across Industries

Self-closing valves are ideal for use in diverse industries where control and safety are paramount. In manufacturing, they help manage the flow of various fluids in production lines. In the automotive sector, they ensure reliable control of fuel systems. Chemical processing facilities benefit from their leak-proof operation to maintain safety standards.

Conclusion

The Self-Closing Valve from Prabha Electronics represents a significant advancement in valve technology, combining automatic operation with robust construction to deliver unparalleled safety and efficiency. By integrating these valves into your systems, you can enhance operational reliability, reduce manual workload, and ensure a higher standard of safety.

For more information on how our Self-Closing Valves can benefit your operations, visit our product page or contact us for personalized assistance.

[autotapfaucets]

Top 5 Innovative Features in Modern Automatic Faucet Controllers

Automatic faucet controllers have evolved significantly in recent years, incorporating advanced technology and innovative features to enhance user experience and improve efficiency.

From touchless operation to water-saving capabilities, here are the top 5 innovative features in modern automatic faucet controllers:

1. Touchless Operation

Touchless operation is perhaps the most notable feature of modern automatic faucet controllers. Equipped with infrared sensors, these faucets detect the presence of hands or objects and activate water flow automatically, eliminating the need for manual operation and minimizing the risk of germ transmission.

2. Adjustable Sensor Range

Many modern automatic faucet controllers feature adjustable sensor ranges, allowing users to customize the distance at which the sensor detects motion.

This feature enhances convenience and flexibility, accommodating users of different heights and preferences.

3. Water-Saving Technology

Water-saving technology is a key focus in modern automatic faucet controllers.

These faucets are designed to deliver precise amounts of water, minimizing wastage and promoting conservation.

Features such as flow restrictors and aerators help regulate water flow without compromising performance.

4. Battery-Free Operation

Some modern automatic faucet controllers utilize alternative power sources, such as kinetic energy or solar power, to operate without the need for batteries.

This eco-friendly feature reduces environmental impact and eliminates the hassle of battery replacement.

5. Smart Connectivity

Smart connectivity is an emerging trend in automatic faucet controllers, allowing users to control and monitor their faucets remotely via smartphone apps or voice commands.

Features such as programmable settings, usage tracking, and leak detection enhance convenience and efficiency.

These top 5 innovative features in modern automatic faucet controllers represent the cutting edge of technology and design in the plumbing industry.

Whether you're upgrading your home or commercial space, these features offer enhanced functionality, efficiency, and convenience for everyday use.

For comprehensive assistance in choosing and installing modern automatic faucet controllers with innovative features, please visit AutoTapFaucet.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

This 1953 Muntz Jet convertible underwent a three-year custom build under previous ownership, and it was purchased by the seller in 2021. The car is powered by a fuel-injected 5.7-liter LT1 V8 engine paired with a four-speed automatic transmission and a Ford 9″ rear end, and it is finished in Apple Pearl with a white Carson-style removable top over gray snakeskin-style Naugahyde upholstery. Features include custom bodywork, an Art Morrison frame, power-assisted steering, four-wheel disc brakes, airbag suspension, Painless Performance wiring, and more modified and fabricated details. This custom-built Muntz is now offered with a copy of Rodder’s Journal magazine featuring a story on the build and a clean California title in the name of the seller’s business.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The steel, aluminum, and fiberglass body is mounted on an Art Morrison ladder frame that was boxed and finished in semi-gloss black, and the floor was raised 3″. The exterior was repainted in a Sherwin Williams two-stage Apple Pearl mixed by the late Stan Betz. Features include a chopped Duvall-style windshield, 1950 Chevrolet headlights, dual Appleton spotlights, 1951 Ford Victoria side windows, and a white removable Carson-style top fabricated to match the height of the chopped windshield. Additional equipment includes color-matched rear fender skirts and chrome bumpers. Wear from fitting the top is noted on the rear deck.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Steel wheels sourced from a 1976 Dodge measure 15″ and are mounted with Cadillac Sombrero-style covers and whitewall tires. A matching spare fitted with a BFGoodrich Silvertown tire is mounted within a rear-mounted Continental-style chrome carrier. A Mustang II front end accommodates power rack-and-pinion steering , and the car rides on an electronically-adjustable Air Ride Technologies airbag suspension system along with 2” lowered front spindles, Strange Engineering tube shocks, a rear Panhard bar, and front and rear sway bars. The seller reports that the front control arm bushings were recently replaced.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Braking is handled by GM G-body-sourced calipers matched with Ford Granada discs up front and Ford SVO-specification calipers and discs at the rear.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The cabin was customized by Jim’s Auto Trim of San Diego, California, and features Glide bucket seats and a rear bench trimmed in gray snakeskin-style Naugahyde upholstery, along with matching treatments for the dash trim, headliner, and door panels. Additional equipment includes a 1952 Lincoln steering wheel mounted to a shortened Lincoln steering column, gray cut-pile carpet, and a Pioneer stereo housed within a custom center cubby.

The engine-turned “Hollywood” instrument cluster houses Stewart Warner gauges consisting of an 8k-rpm tachometer, a 160-mph speedometer, and auxiliary readings for fuel level, battery charge, oil pressure, and water temperature. The five-digit odometer displays 25k miles, though total chassis mileage is unknown. A Lokar pedal assembly was fitted during the build.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The Corvette-sourced 5.7-liter LT1 V8 features a polished fuel intake manifold along with billet aluminum valve covers, and additional features include an Opti-Spark distributor, a Griffin aluminum radiator, and a wiring loom sourced from Painless Performance Wiring. A set of long-tube headers are connected to a 2.5″ exhaust system equipped with dual Dynaflow mufflers. The seller reports that the oil was recently changed.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Power is routed to the rear wheels via a four-speed 4L60E automatic transmission and a Ford 9″ rear end with with 3.55:1 gears and Strange Engineering 31-spline axles. Additional photos of the underside, drivetrain, and suspension components are presented in the gallery below.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The car was featured in issue #36 of Rodders Journal magazine

[mychlapci]

Alright it’s time to get freaky about Sentinel.

I want to make him my wife. He’s the absolute worst and a total aft, but just imagine. Bending him until he breaks. Training him until he’s an obedient little slut.

It starts off with him pushing back and scoffing at every attempt to correct his bad behavior, but then you offer the right rewards… He wants power, so you promise to give it to him. If he behaves, if he just indulges you a little bit, he’ll be praised for it and can have his fun dominating you in return.

But first he’s gotta get on his knees for you. He tries to look smug, claiming this isn’t gonna be a regular thing. But he’s lying to himself. He doesn’t even realize when it’s shifted from him submitting so he can get rewarded to now submitting because that is his reward.

By the time his himbo processor has caught up to him, he’s already halfway trained. Responses to certain phrases are practically automatic and he finds himself getting distracted by the thought of pleasing you just to get a taste of praise.

Eventually he’s the perfect housewife. He doesn’t go out anymore because he’s gotta get all the housework done by the time you’re home or he won’t get any attention, and he couldn’t stand that.

When you do return, he’s already waiting, eager to assist in whatever way you request. Imagine him trying extra hard to please you and as a reward you bring home another mech for him. Someone bigger and stronger who will absolutely ruin his valve.

You don’t have to tell him twice. Soon he’s on his hands and knees being fucked hard and fast, whining and moaning around the massive spike filling him. He looks pathetic, and you make sure he knows it before stealing some wet kisses as he moans into your mouth.

You get to sit back and relax, doing whatever you feel like and admiring his incoherent babbling. Sure fucking him is fun, and you could fuck him in a mirror to see his reactions. But there’s just something about making him put on a show like this that satisfies a lust for control.

To think he was once a power hungry jerk who rarely took you seriously. Now he’s getting fragged into oblivion, begging to be bred so he can be the perfect wife for you, working around the house barefoot and pregnant.

Now that would be a pretty picture.

hoooly shit. yes. we need to make sentinel undergo some wifeication. i can fix him (<- make the perfect little housewife out of him)

At first it’s a game that he’s convinced he has the upper hand in. He gets on his knees, plays semi-nice, thinks about how he’s going to make you pay him back for the vile things you’re doing to his spike and valve… 

By the time he realizes the footing is never going to switch, it’s far too late. Every time you come home, Sentinel already has his hands on the counter and his hips popping out, obediently waiting for your spike. Far enough into his training he knows better than to complain about you taking your time, so he bites his tongue, though you could argue that his clicking the latch on his locked panels desperately can be counted as Sentinel being pushy. Sometimes you fuck him, sometimes you just make him suck you off. At first he’d ignore it, lying to himself how he doesn’t need to feel a spike in his valve everyday. Then later he’d get angry and bitchy about it, but that behaviour could cost up to a month without a spike in his valve, so he just obediently sucks, a hint of resentment in his eyes, and he hopes that next day you’ll give him what he needs…

When he’s being a very good wife he gets a toy in his valve while you’re gone, but he’s not allowed to play with himself, because you know otherwise he’d forget his chores, and by telling him that you basically ensure he never does play with himself. Because Sentinel is not some slut who can’t handle a few hours without having his valve fucked, he’s not. (the sopping wet mess his valve turns into when you come home begs to differ…)

mhmmm Bringing in a bigger mech to fuck him. Sentinel with his hips in the air and head pushed to the floor, and he doesn’t even have to be told to keep his mouth shut and take it. You remind the guy to not finish inside, not even when Sentinel starts begging for it. That’s going to be your job, once he’s thoroughly fucked out and covered in a stranger’s transfluid, you fuck him, finish inside, and make him thank you for it. All of his previous smugness, all his goading and dickish remarks are now fucked out of him, and he shakily thanks you without even thinking about it, giving no struggle.

Sentinel growing a pretty little baby-bump over time, and now he absolutely cannot go outside, not looking like this, but that’s not a problem for you. Or him, for that matter. He enjoys having his pregnant belly propped up on the kitchen counter while getting fucked, loves having it rubbed from behind, loves putting a hand on the underside to hold it up when it gets too heavy. You come home everyday to a clean house and a pregnant wife <3

[ivycorp]

Megatron and his servo

The door slid shut behind Megatron, his quarters quiet and empty as always (but they weren't like that not long ago, he remembered with a twist of the mouth); his frame was hot and charged up despite the time it took to:

Return to Nemesis,

Get told off by Soundwave (it was an interesting thing, to be told of with no words),

Subsequently to be told off by Knock Out that he needed to leave the injured hand to heal or it would require an entire replacement next time.

He was so dazed by the fight earlier, he just nodded and went out into the corridor from the medbay, on automatic letting his legs carry him back to berth. The vehicons he passed in the way scrambled to not cross paths with him, but the warlord didn't really care about them.

No, he had more pressing matters on his mind. 

Taking a look at his freshly repaired arm, he noted with humor that at least it was not the servo he needed tonight anyways. 

With a practiced ease that spoke of the pathetic disposition he was finding himself way too often these days, the silver mech locked the door, put the music on loud and shut off his own audio input. In case of emergency, Soundwave would shoot him a direct comm anyways.

The music was not for his benefit, after all.

As the silence filled his mind, Megatron allowed himself a shudder as his extensive (not extensive enough, whispered his greedy spark) collection of material on Orion-Optimus started taking its place, feeding his newly rediscovered needs like a mech starved.

'My, pet, you are positively begging to be touched, aren't you?' Optimus's voice seemed to drown him, as the silver frame settled itself down on the floor, knees spread, servos held behind his back in a looser grip than he usually preferred, but the medic's warning was enough to keep him from pushing it.

He sighed softly, chasing the memories of the way Orion would look at him, teasing him with the softest strokes, as the latest battle took hold and reminded just how much he enjoyed the digits on his throat.

It was enough to cause his charge to grow at once, as he desperately held the self-imposed position; he was even facing the chair the blue and red mech took as his during the stay at Nemesis, from the first time they fell into the familiar dynamic.

Megatron both rejoiced and cursed that moment, as it had changed something between them irrevocably- he had no clue precisely why, but the recent losses they were suffering were telling enough.

They have gotten under each other's plating and Megatron was obviously losing control. He expected Soundwave to lose patience with his behavior any day now.

He grimaced, as he felt his frame shiver at the notion of losing control, of letting Orion take care of him, to make him break apart and be rebuilt over and over again in the most agonizingly pleasurable way there could be.

He could feel his valve clench as lubricant started falling on the floor through the seams, but he kept the cover in place.

There were rules to be followed, even when he was alone.

'Beautiful, my sweet, so obedient for me, thank you for waiting for the commands,' cooed the imaginary Prime, as Megatron could feel himself tremble at the praise; discovering that he liked it made Orion smile so nicely, as he explained one day that it also was something he loved to indulge in.

"What a complementary pair we make, Megatron," the mech said once over Energon, and the silver tyrant couldn't help but agree.

Yet now, ex-vents coming out loud, Megatron could only think about the voice in his helm, which chuckled and finally prompted him to move, but still kept the panels closed.

'I want you to take your time and show me where you would like to be touched,' caused the silver servos to move from behind to the front, as Megatron started to stroke his frame, before he arrived at the throat, neck cables just inches away from his wandering digits.

It was the spot Optimus bit him earlier that day.

Touching on the tingling part of his throat, he suddenly wanted to know if the bite was still visible - Knock Out took a look but did not repair it, so most likely it was not threatening and would be taken care of by his own self repair.

He pressed, hissing, as the motion flared with numb pain, which made his spark throb.

He needed to see it badly.

His imagination fed him another memory, the impression of Orion smiling, walking over to the berth and motioning for Megatron to join him, as it offered an undisturbed view of the mirror in the private washracks.

The silver mech knew better than to rise up, instead crawling hastily and setting himself down, pedes spread so his reflection would show the entirety of the heaving frame between them, servos flat on the floor.

'I can see just how desperate you are - if you keep it up I might even let you overload today, despite your prior behavior,' teased the Prime’s voice, as he fought hard to keep his panels closed and optics down; he did not miss the echo of shame that ran through him on the battlefield about not yielding when Optimus threatened to feel disappointed by him.

He did not want to disappoint Orion. He was good and will keep on being good if it meant he could stay in this dazed state longer.

'Now, pet, I want you to open your panels,' instructed him the warm voice he could listen to forever, as his panels slid open and lubricant gushed out of his needy valve, spike pressurized and aching to be touched.

'Look at yourself as you get your valve prepared for me - tell me when you get close to overloading,' ordered the specter of his memories, as Megatron turned his gaze and locked sights with the reflection and allowed his optics to take in the mark on his neck cables as one of his servos went up and wrapped itself right below it.

His other servo was already in motion, working the sensitive mesh open, rocking onto the digits; he did not think it would take long for him to reach the edge, but when he tightened the hold on his neck and brushed his digit against the anterior node, he was hit with a jolt of pleasure that got him immediately there, and he gasped out:

"I am close, so close, please," came the begging, so much faster than expected. He faintly blamed the forward actions of the Prime for driving him insane with the damned bite, but that thought left quickly as he continued the ministrations on his leaking valve. 

He knew at this point he could probably take some of the largest toys hiding in the closet, but it was too far from him now - and, more importantly, there was no command that specified that anything but his digits were allowed this time.

'That was quick, even for you - but then, I knew the bite would do the trick… or was it the talk about a collar, perhaps?' came the question, as Megatron's servo stuttered in its rhythm, nearly bringing him over the edge.

He wished to reply, but all that left his mouth was just a low keen, words escaping his frayed focus and leaving him bare to the wants of his greedy frame. At this point he would agree to whatever the other would demand, if only he would be granted release.

Yet, as Megatron looked towards the mirror, he could not stop feeling a rush of humiliation at the sight; spike neglected, valve leaking so much lubricant it made a considerable pool on the floor, neck cables held tightly and squeezed to the point of pain whenever he would feel himself get dangerously close, until the charge would die down again just enough to escape the temptation.

And he would start again, because he was not told to stop.

The digits were avoiding his node now, as he knew just a brush would make him overload hard. 

He would not do this without permission. 

There were rules to be followed.

The rules were important. 

He could hold it off for longer.

A hum sounded in his audials, as a curt 'optics up front' made him realize he was looking anywhere but the reflection as he was wrestling with the need to obey and the whispers of his frame.

He burned, and the assault on his valve did not stop as he turned to pleading for permission to overload; seeing the desperation in the mirror only made him glitch up.

Such a wanton display…

'Now, pet, we both know who you need to ask if you want to overload,' reminded him the voice, as he briefly wondered if maybe he could break the invisible hold Orion had on him; it's not like he would know what Megatron was doing right now, and what he wouldn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The warlord shook his helm, disappointed at even entertaining this idea.

He would not fail.

As he opened his comm list, he made sure to pick the adequate encrypted frequency - Optimus told him he would not revoke the access again unless he abused his openness, with a threat of terminating their games once and for all.

He could feel the heady state overtake him, as he dialed for Prime to pick up - the Autobot leader usually did not leave him hanging, and more often than not, his release would come very soon after they connected on the line.

The call dropped. 

He sobbed, as he tried again and again, to no avail. With the last dregs of thought, he realized the Nemesis was jamming communications both ways.

Soundwave. 

It must be his way of punishing him for today's loss. Apparently, the TIC's patience has finally ran out.

The elation he felt at the idea of finally being allowed to overload got replaced by the icy chill of shame that made him feel like he was torn apart at the seams; the wetness of his valve felt wrong, but he still could not stop moving his digits.

He wondered briefly if he was too far gone to ever come back to his life before the Optimus-As-Orion incident.

A sympathetic whisper of 'poor thing, you know what is left to do, come on, maybe next time you will get to overload,' made him openly weep, as he withdrew his digits and pushed himself up, shakily going under the solvent in the washracks, set to the coldest setting. 

As the steam lifted from his burning frame, he rested his helm against the wall, charge gradually dropping to the buzz he started associating with just being awake.

Megatron nearly stepped back into the lubricant on the floor, as he felt at once nauseous at the sight and the throb his tired valve gave at the reminder of what he just did. Grabbing a rag, he began to clear it away, noticing to his dismay that the charge was building up again, fuelled by his own sense of humiliation.

It would seem he will need to stay under the cold solvent for a much longer time than expected…

*****

Fowler frowned at his phone, as he fiddled a bit and checked if maybe his WiFi had disconnected.

No, full bars.

Frustrated, he turned to address Ratchet working on the side, grumbling to himself.

"Are we being jammed? Or jamming the Nemesis?" Fowler asked, trying to discern the possible reason why the vehicon group chat stopped updating mid-rant. 

The medic looked at him puzzled.

"No, I don't think so," he replied, going back to doing the inventory, while in the background Optimus stilled his console repair. He looked pensive, but something must have clicked as he relaxed and chuckled to himself, getting back to work.

The Prime even began humming a soft melody as he was mending the pieces he tore off himself because of…

The agent's eyes opened wide when the dots connected:

The group chat has just remarked on loud music picking up.

The incident earlier that day on the battlefield.

Optimus's air of satisfaction as he mended the mangled parts of the console.

Fowler rolled his eyes hard, and asked himself for the fifteenth time that week as to why he even felt surprised anymore.

*********************

Another one prompted by this post of @paraxodicalundressing as a direct follow up to this (mentioning here the time on Nemesis)

[diabolus1exmachina]

Aston Martin One-77 (property — before being seized by Swiss authorities — of the son of the leader of one of the most corrupt governments in Central Africa)

In keeping with its tradition of producing limited edition, hand crafted exotica for the wealthy aficionado, best exemplified by the DB4 GT Zagato of the 1960s, Aston Martin previewed its proposed One-77 'hypercar' at the 2008 Paris Motor Show. 'The finished One-77 made its official debut in April 2009 at the Concorso d'Eleganza Ville d'Este, held on the shores of Lake Como in Italy, winning the 'Award for Concept Cars and Prototypes'. Designed by Marek Reichman, it was the fastest and most powerful Aston Martin ever built, with a top speed of 220mph, and also the most expensive, carrying a price tag of £1,150,000. Hailed by its maker as "possibly the world's most desirable automotive art form", the One-77 with its long bonnet and short tail was every inch the classically proportioned Gran Turismo, combing muscular pugnacity and feline grace in equal measure. A two-seater closed coupé, the One-77 featured advanced technology in the form of an immensely rigid and lightweight carbon fibre monocoque chassis, which carried a seamless body traditionally handcrafted in aluminium. Made from a single sheet of aluminium, each front wing was said to take one craftsman three weeks to produce.  Other state-of-the-art features included bi-xenon headlamps with integrated LED side lights and direction indicators, LED rear lamps (fog and reverse), carbon fibre front splitters, carbon fibre rear diffuser, and active aerodynamics with deployable spoiler. Providing the horsepower needed to breach the magic 200mph barrier was a stretched (to 7.3 litres) version of Aston Martin's existing 48-valve V12 engine. Extensively reworked by Cosworth Engineering, it produced 750bhp and 553lb/ft of torque, and was the world's most powerful normally aspirated road-car engine at the time of the One-77's introduction. Cosworth's extensive re-engineering included fitting dry-sump lubrication, which enabled the V12 to be carried 100mm lower in the One-77's chassis than in that of the DB9. Like the V8 in the One-77's Vantage sister car, the V12 engine was mounted towards the centre of the chassis, well aft of the front axle line in the interests of optimum weight distribution, to which end the six-speed automatic/manual transmission was located at the rear in the form of an integrated transaxle. Power was transmitted to the limited-slip differential by a carbon fibre prop shaft encased in a magnesium alloy torque tube, reaching the road surface via 20" forged alloy wheels - 7-spoke or 10-spoke - shod with Pirelli P Zero Corsa tyres.

Unusually for a road car, the One-77's all-independent suspension featured pushrod actuation of the adjustable mono-tube dampers, a system more commonly found in modern competition cars. There were double wishbones at all four corners: the front incorporating anti-dive geometry, and the rear anti-squat and anti-lift. The suspension was also electrically adjustable for both ride height and rate change.

The rack and pinion was power assisted, delivering 3.0 turns lock-to-lock, while the steering column was adjustable for both tilt and reach. Braking was supplied by carbon ceramic discs all round, gripped by six-piston callipers at the front, four-piston callipers at the rear. Dynamic Stability Control (DSC), Anti-lock Braking System (ABS), Electronic Brakeforce Distribution (EBD), Emergency Brake Assist (EBA), and traction control were all incorporated in the interests of controllability and safety. Releasing the driver's door, which swings out and arcs upwards, the One-77's fortunate owner would be confronted by a leather-trimmed sports steering wheel, electrically adjustable lightweight memory seats, and dual-stage driver/passenger front airbags. Other interior features included automatic temperature control, a trip computer, and touch-sensitive map-reading LED lights. Powerfold exterior memory mirrors came as standard, while front/rear parking cameras were an option. Number '35' of the 77 built, this EU model has a legend engraved on the door sill stating that it was 'Hand built in England for Theodore N'Guema Obiang Mangue'. Finished in red with red-piped cream interior, the car is offered with Equatorial Guinea registration papers.

[uae-valves]

Control valve supplier in Dubai

UAE Valves is one of the top Control Valve Supplier in Dubai. A control valve is a mechanical device used in various industrial processes to regulate the flow of fluids, such as gas, steam, or liquid, through a pipeline or duct. It achieves this regulation by adjusting the size of the flow passage according to signals received from a controller.

Control valves are crucial components in systems requiring precise control of flow rate, pressure, temperature, or liquid level. They are widely used in industries such as oil and gas, chemical processing, power generation, and water treatment.

Working Principle:

The working principle of a control valve is straightforward. In an industrial setting, a control valve adjusts the size of an opening to control the flow of fluid through a pipeline. When the valve is fully open, it allows maximum flow, and when fully closed, it stops the flow completely. Between these extremes, the valve can be precisely adjusted to allow a specific amount of fluid to pass through.

This adjustment is typically performed automatically based on signals from a controller, which monitors conditions such as pressure, temperature, or flow rate. Essentially, a control valve acts like a gatekeeper, regulating the flow of fluid to meet the system's requirements.

Parts of a Control Valve:

Valve Body: The main structure that contains the fluid and through which the fluid flows.

Actuator: A device that moves or controls the valve's mechanism, often powered by air, electricity, or hydraulic fluid.

Closure Element: The component that makes contact with the seat to restrict or allow flow.

Trim: Internal components such as the plug, seat, and stem that modulate the flow.

Seat: A surface against which the closure element seals to stop flow.

Positioner: A device that adjusts the valve actuator's position based on control signals.

Bonnet: The top part of the valve body that houses the stem and provides a seal.

Yoke: A support structure that holds the actuator in place and connects it to the valve body.

Stem: A rod that connects the actuator to the closure element and transmits motion.

Packing: Material that provides a seal around the stem to prevent fluid leakage.

Advantages:

Precisely controls the amount of fluid passing through a system.

Maintains the desired pressure levels within the system.

Helps maintain a stable temperature by regulating fluid flow.

Reduces energy consumption by optimizing fluid flow.

Enhances system performance by maintaining consistent operating conditions.

Prevents system overpressure and potential hazards.

Easily adjustable for various operating conditions.

Allows for control from a distance and integration into automated systems.

Designed for durability and ease of maintenance.

Ensures consistent production quality by maintaining optimal conditions.

Meets industry standards and regulatory requirements.

Industries Using Control Valves:

Control valves are used across numerous industries, including nuclear power, oil and gas, power generation, manufacturing and process industries, automotive, aerospace, mining and minerals processing, water treatment and distribution, pulp and paper, refining, marine, renewable energy, chemical and petrochemical, and steel and metal processing. These valves play a critical role in ensuring operational efficiency, safety, and compliance within these diverse sectors.

Types of Control Valves:

Three-way control valve

Cage type control valve

Double seat control valve

O type shutoff control valve

Single seat control valve

Water control valve

Globe control valve

Angle type control valve

We are a Control Valve Supplier in Dubai, supplying valves in the following descriptions:

Available Materials: Stainless Steel (SS316, SS304), Ductile Iron, Super Duplex (F51, F53, F55), Cast Iron (WCB, WCC, WC6), LCC, LCB

Class: 150 to 2500

Nominal Pressure: PN10 to PN450

Medium: Air, Water, Chemical, Steam, Oil

Operations: Electro Pneumatic Operated and Pneumatic Operated

Size: 1/2” – 24”

Ends: Butt Weld, Flanged, Threaded, Socket Weld

Electric Actuator Details:

Torque: 3 – 9 nm

Operating Pressure: 8 Bar

Port Connection: NPT 1.4”

Mounting Base: ISO 5211

Temperature: -20°C to +80°C

Configuration of a Pneumatic Actuator:

Torque: 3 – 9000 nm

Operating Pressure: 8 Bar

Port Connection: NPT 1.4”

Mounting Base: ISO 5211

Temperature: -20°C to +80°C

Temperature Ranges:

Standard: -4°F to 200°F (-20°C to 93°C)

Low: -40°F to 176°F (-40°C to 80°C)

High: 0°F to 300°F (-18°C to 149°C)

Visit us: https://www.uaevalves.com/product-category/control-valve/

[june-gdprototyping]

CNC Machining for Aerospace Products

Precision CNC machining of aeronautical parts, as an indispensable part of the modern aeronautical industry, provides strong technical support for the manufacture of aircraft with its high-precision and high-efficiency machining characteristics. With the continuous progress of science and technology and the rapid development of the aviation industry, precision CNC machining technology is also constantly optimised and innovated to meet the more demanding aerospace parts machining needs.

Why is CNC important in the aerospace industry?

There is very high and even demanding requirements in aerospace industry for structural design, functionality, performance, product quality and reliability. A large number of new materials and structures were first applied to aircraft components. National defence needs and market competition require a significant reduction in the development and production cycles of space products. In addition, the average cost of the final product needs to be constantly reduced, thus placing higher demands on the aerospace manufacturing industry and requiring advanced manufacturing technologies. Modern CNC machining is a key part of advanced manufacturing technology and has become a decisive key technology, especially in aerospace manufacturing. The following advantages of CNC machining services make them important in the aerospace industry: ①It is the process of synthesising a variety of advanced technology types, including computer technology, communication technology, modern manufacturing technology, digital control technology and so on. ②During CNC machining, the development of a new product and the machining of another batch can be realised by simply changing the settings and parameters of the CNC machine, greatly increasing automation and flexibility. ③Multiple CNC machining can be done automatically on a single machine or in a single clamping, greatly reducing machining time and production cycle time, as well as increasing efficiency. ④CNC machining technology improves the accuracy and precision of aerospace products, reduces or minimises manufacturing errors and results in CNC aircraft parts of higher quality and durability. ⑤Most materials for aerospace components need to be cut and machined during the manufacturing process.

CNC Aircraft Part Features and Application

What are aerospace products? Aircraft can be classified by structure into fuselage, engines, on-board equipment and components, including wings, large wall and tail frames, casings, valve bodies, hydraulic valves, optical tubes, rotor blades, fasteners, connectors, etc. ①Aircraft engine parts: Aircraft engine is one of the core components of the aircraft, the machining accuracy and performance of its parts directly affect the performance and safety of the entire aircraft. ②Fuselage Structural Components: Structural components are the backbone of the aircraft and are subject to a variety of complex loads. Precision CNC machining technology enables high-precision machining of fuselage structural parts, such as beams, frames, plates and other components, to ensure the stability and reliability of their dimensions and shapes. ③Avionics equipment parts: With the continuous development of avionics technology, avionics are more and more widely used in aircraft. Precision CNC machining technology enables high-precision machining of avionics parts, such as circuit boards, connectors and other components, to ensure their accuracy and reliability.

The main features of CNC machining of aerospace parts are as follows:

①High performance: use of new hard-to-machine materials such as titanium ②High Precision: Aerospace parts require a high degree of precision, and any small error may affect the performance and safety of the entire aircraft. Precision CNC machining technology meets the aerospace industry's need for high precision by machining in the micron level of accuracy, ensuring that the size and shape of the part is exactly as designed. ③High Efficient: Precision CNC machining technology can greatly improve productivity by automating and controlling the machining process. After one programming, the CNC machine can run continuously, reducing manual intervention time and increasing production speed. ④Flexibility: Parts in the aerospace industry are varied and complex in shape. Precision CNC machining technology can be quickly adapted to the machining needs of different parts by changing tools and adjusting the programme, without the need for cumbersome manual adjustments, and is suitable for small batch and multi-species production modes. ⑤Lightweight: Extensive use of thin-walled structures. ⑥Consistency: In mass production, part consistency is critical. Precision CNC machining technology ensures that the machining parameters of each part are exactly the same, avoiding quality fluctuations caused by human factors, thus ensuring product consistency and stability. ⑦Reliability and economy: Increasingly stringent quality and cost controls. ⑧Environmental protection and energy saving: The future of precision CNC machining of aerospace parts will pay more attention to environmental protection and energy saving. Adopting more energy-saving and environmentally friendly materials and processes to reduce resource waste and environmental pollution and realise green manufacturing.

In summary, precision CNC machining of aviation parts, as one of the important technologies in the modern aviation industry, provides strong technical support for the manufacture of aircraft with its high-precision and high-efficiency machining characteristics. With the continuous innovation and progress of technology, the future of precision CNC machining of aviation parts will move towards the direction of intelligence, automation, high-speed and high-precision, multi-axis and environmental protection and energy saving, injecting a new impetus for the development of the aviation industry.

[atlantis-archive]

Audrey Lets Off Some Steam!

Written by: Michael Stewart Pencils by: Erik Doescher Inks by: Jim Amash Published in: Disney Adventures Collector’s Issue! Atlantis: The Lost Empire Volume 11, Number 6 (pg.72-75). Publisher: Buena Vista Magazines Inc. Publication date: circa July 2001.

Text:

Page 1: Mole: [Sacre bleu! The Digger is out of control!] [Stupid! You are a stupid machine!] Audrey: [Have you got rocks in your head Moliere!?!] [I told you to stay out of that thing until we reach Atlantis!] [Shake a leg, you guys!] [That machine can bore through solid stone--you do not want to get in its way!] Narrator: [All systems are go as the massive undersea vessel Ulysses begins its quest to find the lost continent of Atlantis.] [But down in the ship's garage deck, chief mechanic Audrey Ramirez already has a big problem!]

Page 2, Panel 1: Milo: [Excuse me, I'm Milo Thatch, the new ship's linguist] Audrey: [Good grief!] Milo: [I was looking for the crew's quarters, but I got a little--] Panel 2: Milo: [--lost.] [Oh my!] sfx: grab! Panel 3: Mole: [This is not happening] Audrey: [Out of the way, linguist!] [Or don't you know the meaning of the word "squashed"?] Milo: [Oof!] Panel 4: sfx: KER-SMASH! Audrey: [Why are you running a digger in my garage, Mole?] [You figure maybe Atlantis is hidden on the other side of that bulkhead?] Mole: [Now I must go!] [So much to do!] [Preparations to be made--on the other side of the ship!] sfx: VRRRRRRRR

Page 3, Panel 1: Audrey: [There it goes! Right through to--] Mole: [Ack!] Panel 2: Audrey: [The engine room!] [You there--damage report!] mechanic: [Just a scrape on the leg, I'll be fine!] Audrey: [Damage report for the engine room, if you don't mind!] mechanic: [Oh! The automatic steam release valve was crushed!] [We have to stop the engines--] Panel 3: text: DANGER mechanic: (from offscreen) [--we're building up an incredible amount of pressure!] Panel 4: Audrey: [Shut the engines down during a mission?] [Not while I'm chief mechanic!] mechanic: Wait! Panel 5: Audrey: [I'll open that valve manually!] mechanic: [It's too dangerous!] Audrey: [You're probably right about that!] sfx: PSHHHH Panel 6: sfx: PSHHHH Audrey: [The pressure's reaching the breaking point! The engines can't take it!] [Time to let off some steam!]

Page 4, Panel 1: Narrator: [Once the immediate danger is over...] Audrey: [Hoist that hunk of junk back to the garage deck--pronto!] [And let's un-crush that release valve--] [--before we all take a steam bath!] Panel 2: Rourke: (over speaker) [Bridge to engine room! Come in, Audrey!] Audrey: Oh great...] Panel 3: Rourke: (over speaker) [Rourke here. Just wanted to congratulate you.] [We're on course and running at full power.] Panel 4: Rourke: [More than full power, in fact!] [How do you manage to coax that extra steam pressure out of the boilers?] Audrey: (over speaker) [Uhh... hey, no big deal... just gotta keep things in tip-top shape. As usual, sir!] Rourke: [You're some kind of miracle worker, Audrey! Rourke out.] Panel 5: Audrey: [-:Whew!:- You don't know the half of it!] sfx: PSHHHH Narrator: [The end!] [But where's Moliere? Turn to page 76 and see!]

Notes:

This story takes place between the Ulysses launching and Milo meeting Mole and Sweet in his bunk. As you can see here the engine room and vehicle storage are at nearly opposite ends of the ship, and separated by munitions storage and the Sub bay. So we have to assume Mole's joyride was slightly longer we see here. This, of course assumes that the layout isn't contradicted by other sources such as the Visual Guide. We are introduced to three unnamed mechanics:

Mechanics 1 and 2 are wearing yellow shirts and grey overalls, which might be the garage uniform. I don't recall if we see any of these uniforms in the film. 3 (the only one with dialogue) is dressed in a white shirt and blue overalls which matches the ones we see in when the Ulysses starts flooding, which may mean it's the engine room's uniform. I couldn't see his glorious mustache during that sequence, though.

[covna]

Why Choose COVNA for Your Industrial Valve Needs?

COVNA Group Co., Ltd., headquartered in Denver, Colorado, USA, integrates R&D, design, sales, and service, specializing in the production of automatic control valves, pneumatic valves, electric valves, solenoid valves, and other flow control and automation equipment accessories. As a leading supplier to the world's industry, COVNA partners with many well-known enterprises and affiliated brands. Currently, COVNA products are exported to more than 120 countries and regions, widely used in automation, environmental protection, water treatment, oil, natural gas, chemical industry, electricity, metallurgy, shipbuilding, mining, papermaking, medicine, and industrial systems.

Global technology and customer service are crucial to COVNA's success. COVNA boasts an independent technology research and development center, pioneering in the industry by obtaining the TS (pressure pipeline component manufacturing license), explosion-proof electrical production license, CE (EU safety mark), TÜV (German Rhine certification), SGS (internationally recognized inspection, identification, testing, and certification agency), and other essential quality and certification systems. Additionally, COVNA holds over 40 core invention and design patents, ensuring that its automation solutions meet global quality standards.

Through a trusted brand portfolio, COVNA provides a comprehensive suite of fluid management solutions, delivering critical infrastructure for communities worldwide. By working closely with customers, COVNA helps maintain automated and safe operations, maximize operational efficiency, improve product performance, and collaborate to create a more sustainable future for humanity.

[hirocimacruiser]

Engine specs for the 1st Gen Mitsubishi Pajero Mini.

Pajero Mini Detailed explanation

ENGINE 20VDOHC TURBO & SOHC 16VALVES

Two types of optimal tunes to suit your RV concept

Two types of 4-cylinder engines are available as the featured power units.

The VR series is equipped with a DOHC intercooler turbo that will satisfy sports enthusiasts and cross country users. The specs are top-class, with a maximum output of 64ps/7000rpm and a maximum torque of 9.9kg-m/3000rpm!

DOHC has 5 valves per cylinder.

Uno is common. However, this unit uses 3 intake/exhaust valves and an additional 5 valves, making it 4 cylinders with a total of 20 valves, and has a mechanism that rivals even racing engines. It goes without saying that the compact combustion chamber and excellent intake and exhaust efficiency improve power performance and fuel efficiency. On the other hand, having multiple valves has the disadvantage of increasing power friction, but we have taken measures to counter this by adopting an end-pivot type roller rocker arm to drive the valves and reducing the weight of the valves themselves. .

The turbocharger is the world's smallest twin-scroll type. Converting a light engine to a four-cylinder engine is useful for making it quieter and reducing vibration, but exhaust interference becomes a problem when matching it with a turbocharger. To prevent this, the exhaust gas is divided into two parts from the exhaust manifold and drawn directly into the turbo's scroll chamber. Low-speed boost pressure is significantly improved compared to single exhaust.

Of course, when installed in the Pajero Mini, special and detailed tuning has been performed. Intake and exhaust timing has been optimized to improve torque characteristics in the low rotation range despite the increased body weight.

In addition, to enhance the driving sensation without discomfort, To achieve this, a slow limited idle speed control and a non-linear throttle lever have been adopted. In situations where running resistance is extremely high, such as on sandy terrain, the power may suddenly be applied when starting, etc.

The initial response of the accelerator is made slightly duller to prevent sudden increases.

The other unit is a single overhead-cam, 16-valve naturally aspirated (NA) engine. 52ps/7000rpm、6.0kg-m/5000

The rpm performance and the mileage characteristics unique to NA are perfect for utility vehicles mainly used around town and for female users.

Not to be overlooked are the adoption of a large 4-liter chamber type in the intake duct and improvements to the inlet manifold that increase intake and exhaust efficiency at low and high speeds. The shape of the oil pan takes into account driving on slopes, and the positioning of the air cleaner relative to submerged waterways is a common feature of both units.

Transmission options include 5-speed and 3-speed AT. Improved mission based on minicab

It has a new case and is highly reliable. The first thing to pay attention to when using MT is the straw.

Short and reliable shift feel. This is a major advantage of a longitudinally mounted engine, but the careful design of the shift system, along with the direct shift control without wires, cannot be overlooked. Additionally, the VR turbo's system uses large-capacity double cone synchronizers in 1st and 2nd gears. Friction dampers are also used in 2nd and 3rd gear and reverse, making shift operations and quietness reliable and comfortable. Another characteristic unique to turbos is that they have a particularly low gearing compared to NA.

AT is an electronically controlled type that promises comfortable and reliable automatic gear shifting. A cable-type control system is used to prevent lever vibration and gear slippage when driving on rough roads.

[nerdygaymormon]

Is it bad that i myself as a mormon tend to find myself cursing a lot, mainly unintentional as i get it from my dad, is there any way i can try and tone it down, and will the lord be upset with me about this even though its mostly accidental.

This reminds me of an exchange I heard:

Person 1: You sure don't sound like a Mormon. Person 2: What the hell do you mean?

There was a man named J. Golden Kimball who served as a Seventy for 46 years and was renowned for his liberal use of mild profanity, even when speaking at a pulpit in church, much to the consternation of the other General Authorities. When asked how he could get away with the way he spoke, Kimball replied, "Hell, they can't excommunicate me. I repent too damned fast."

The reason both of those are funny is because it's uncharacteristic for members of our church to swear so casually.

There is a purpose for swearing and a reason why every language has some form of curse words. Uttering a cuss word can increase our pain tolerance, actually having the effect of reducing the pain we're feeling, one study suggests by up to 33%. This is why when a person unexpectedly stubs their toe really hard, or they participate in an experiment to see how long they can keep their hands submerged in ice water, they're likely to say an expletive.

The same is true when we experience a strong emotion, swearing somehow acts like an escape valve making the feelings more manageable. This is why people typically curse when they're angry or frustrated.

As Mark Twain put it, "Under certain circumstances, profanity provides relief denied even to prayer."

A well-placed, intentional cuss word can emphasize a point, but using swear words in everyday conversation doesn't seem to have any benefit or purpose, other than what it signals to others.

If a person uses cuss words in everyday situations, the message it tends to send is the individual is less educated, they have less self-control, or they are of questionable character. It can signal that they're being disrespectful, aggressive or abusive. I think it also can convey this person is going to be more honest, that they're going to be themselves no matter what situation they're in, although it could indicate they're going to be their lower-class self no matter where they are, so it can be a mixed bag.

I don't know of any studies supporting this, but my guess is the beneficial effect swearing has in moments of pain or strong emotion is lessened if a person casually uses foul language all the time.

As for how to reduce swearing when it's become a habit and we use them unintentionally, that's like breaking any habit and can be difficult. I have a few suggestions.

(1) Find a way to make you mindful of the language you're using. You could keep a swearing journal where you write down each time you cuss in a small notebook. You could tell your friends you are trying to decrease or stop swearing and ask them to help by pointing out each time you slip up. Another thing people do is they have a swear jar, every time they curse they put some money in the jar.

(2) Related to suggestion #1, assuming there are situations where you don't use foul language, like when at your grandma's home, pretend like your grandma is listening.

(3) One thing Utah culture is infamous for is its use of fake swears. You can try substituting in inoffensive words for the real thing. One interesting note, in studies measuring the effect of swearing on pain, fake curse words had no effect on pain tolerance, but they did get humorous reactions. For example, imagine in a state of excitement and saying to your friends, "Can I get a fork yeah!!!"

(4) Slow down how you speak and vary how you speak. When cursing is an automatic reflex, changing the way of speaking can interrupt that connection. Slowing down also gives you a moment to think of the words you're about to say.

(5) I've heard of people using hypnotherapy to help them reduce their cussing. Hypnotherapy can help with a number of things, including smoking or biting fingernails, things that became habitual

(6) Keep in mind that making lifestyle changes require consistent effort over time. Life is rarely made of immediate, 100% successes. Usually progress includes some setbacks or mistakes along the way, they don't negate the progress you're making. Note the mistake and then try to do better.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Maybe I’m Blind

They swam out into the bay. Swam until their muscles screamed for pause, and kept on swimming until they reached the sleek, pill-shaped vessel.

Metal rungs allowed them to climb onto the submarine. Two men in black suits stood atop the submersible, armed with automatic weapons, and they nodded in greeting to the woman and the girl.

The woman, Evangeline, nodded in response. The young girl, Hien, hid behind her. Without losing a word, one of the armed men gestured down the open hatch into the sub, and the woman and the girl obliged.

More metal rungs, now descending a narrow ladder. Metal clanked and pressure valves hissed. The armed men followed them down and closed and sealed the hatch behind them.

The underwater coffin soon rumbled to life and glided into the ocean. Descending.

And so began their journey west, submerged under leagues of water, occupying quarters in a claustrophobically cramped environment made entirely of metal and plastics.

Hien said nothing but her face was a mask of silent terror. The prepubescent girl fidgeted at every odd sound with eyes constantly wide. Eva spent most of the time distracting the girl with games they could play in the tiny cabin they were permitted to use.

When Hien tried to take a nap—and could not sleep the entire time, twisting and turning and keeping her eyes closed without rest—Eva took a tour of the underwater vessel and learned quickly that it was part of a fleet operated by the Devonlake Company.

Eva had been on edge already, but this just sharpened that edge into a blade.

The Devonlake Company. A mercenary outfit notorious for massacres they had caused in the hotbed conflict zones where they had been hired by Allied Forces. Controversies surrounding their activities forced the Alliance to sever all defense contracts with Devonlake, but the ruthless reputation they earned had made them the number one choice of hire for the ruthless.

Though the crew of this vessel spoke little, their attempts at being accommodating and friendly to their two passengers struck a bad chord with Eva. Hien must have sensed it too. Though the girl had said nothing to anybody but her in the privacy of their cabin, Eva could tell she was instinctively tense around the hired guns in their tight black jumpsuits.

And she was right to feel that way.

The crew’s captain stopped her during her second tour through the sub, and asked her to come alone.

Through a maze of corridors and small doorway hatches where everybody had to duck down to not bump their heads, the officer escorted her into a special control room. There was nobody else there.

He said, “Knock when you’re done.”

Then he closed the door behind himself and left Eva alone in this strange chamber.

There was a smooth black bench and a seat bolted to the floor by it, with a wide monitor mounted on the wall above the bench. A red light rhythmically blinked with a communications icon emblazoned beneath it. Eva took a seat, a deep breath, and then pressed the button.

The monitor sprang to life, almost blindingly bright in comparison to the dim lights throughout the rest of the submarine. The screen’s display was split into four sections and in the bottom right, she saw herself mirrored by a camera feed hidden behind the tiny hole on the monitor’s frame, complete with all the little cuts in her face that had yet to fully heal. The bottom left was black, and in the top right of the screen was a moving image of Huang Chen.

Still holding a phone to his ear and appearing to be listening to someone on the other line, Chen cracked a crooked smile in a quiet remote greeting to Eva, but it was tired, and never reached his eyes. Maybe it carried something nervous.

Her expression mirrored his in response.

The top left quarter switched from black to the image of a man she had never spoken to before. She had seen his picture before—in TV interviews, newspaper photos, and on magazine covers. A handsomely symmetrical face, but with the predatory gaze of a shark, framed by slicked back hair.

Desmond Sharpe.

Billionaire, “philanthropist”, CEO of Sharpe Industries, and the money bags behind its many subsidiaries—including Devonlake Company, she presumed.

Whatever semblance of a smile Eva and Chen had just granted each other, seeing this man wiped any shred of sympathy from their faces. Chen lowered the phone, thumbed it to an ensuing BEEP, and stuffed it into his inner jacket pocket before straightening his collar and necktie.

Sharpe spoke with a voice that lingered on the precipice between silk and smoke.

“Hello, Princess. A pleasure to finally meet you, and always a pleasure to speak to royalty. A shame that it’s not truly in person, but I’m sure we can arrange something if you would do me the honor.”

Not a single word of his sounded sincere. It was more likely a combination of stock phrases that Sharpe was prone to use in his everyday business.

“Mister Sharpe,” Eva replied. “And Mister Chen, thank you for arranging this…”

“Unusual meeting, yes,” Chen added, picking up the slack where Eva’s thoughts trailed off.

“Yes,” Sharpe agreed. “And auspicious, I’d say. It’s rare to have a chance at extending a helping hand to the crown of an Alliance Nation so directly. I must say I’m—”

Eva interrupted. “Can we cut to the chase? What’s your business here?”

Sharpe narrowed his eyes for a split second. Just long enough to relay irritation. Nobody spoke to him like that. There was royalty, and then there was Desmond Sharpe.

“Right, to the point, then. I appreciate that, because I only have so much time in the day to spare.”

“Wouldn’t wanna keep you,” Eva said, unable to fully mask a sneer.

“Yes, well, as you are aware, despite all charity efforts lanced by my family’s estate, I am no charity myself. And the favor I now extend to you comes with quite the price tag to my personal accounts. You would be amazed what the maintenance on this vessel costs, let alone the fuel. Not to mention the rates of Devonlake’s finest—”

“Please, again, get to the point,” Eva said, scowling more with each passing second.

“Yes, the point. One hand washes the other. I have a business proposal for you, Princess. I would appreciate if you accepted—as a token of thanks for your trip back home to our fine country.”

“And what if I say no?” Eva said with a sigh. “We have to swim across the ocean?”

“Please, do hear me out first,” Sharpe said. His hollow use of the word “please” was not a condition, asking for someone to indulge the words that followed. It was an empty word he used to preface an order. “There are no strings attached to your ferry home. You can still say ‘no’ to my proposal—and no hard feelings.”

Eva knew there would be hard feelings between them, regardless of the rest of their conversation.

She just nodded, having had enough of snapping back at Sharpe, and wanting to end this group call as quickly as possible.

“Excellent,” Sharpe said. A cat meowed in the background and the self-important CEO steepled his fingers in front of himself. “I have need of someone with your particular set of skills and your personal motivation—I need someone to infiltrate the M-Tek laboratory and gather intelligence for me.”

Both Eva and Chen arched a brow simultaneously.

“Doesn’t M-Tek belong to Sharpe Industries?” she asked him.

“Yes, that is correct. But I need an outsider for this particular task. I think no person other than someone of your caliber is suited for this. You see, I suspect there is a leak in the M-Tek facility. And I was overjoyed to hear I could help you out because you had just come to my attention recently.”

“Sorry, I don’t do autographs,” she retorted.

Sharpe emitted an abrupt guffaw.

“It just so happened to my reach my radar that you were investigating something at my shipyard in New Port City. Please, allow me.”

His attention turned to something off screen, a loud click followed, and the fourth black panel on Eva’s screen winked on to life.

It displayed the red encircled “M” graffiti on the wall.

“You know what I’m talking about. I believe we have a common enemy,” Sharpe said, returning his piercing gaze to the camera. “I have a hunch you know who this ‘M’ is, and you can help me fix a little problem of my own regarding them.”

“Really? I’m not sure we’re enemies exactly. As little as I know, this ‘M’ hasn’t done anything to offend me yet.”

“The recent news of a shootout on the streets of New Port City—which, according to my observations, involved you on a motorcycle, Princess—well, the circumstances suggest otherwise.”

“Look, if these terrorists are causing you any damages, I recommend you take it up with the proper channels and authorities. Why bother with me?”

“Ah! There’s the word. Terrorists. And thieves. Have you noticed how their graffiti is on grounds of different companies that are all subsidiaries of Sharpe Industries?”

“Your network’s big and it’s easier to evade taxes when the complexity of it borders on the incomprehensible,” she said.

He smirked.

She added, “No, I have not noticed that. Again—what do you want with me that the city’s bureau of investigation can’t solve? And why not just use your trigger-happy rent-a-cops when they’re done moonlighting as a submarine crew?”

Sharpe tilted his head back. Though his expression remained a stony mask of indifference, his irritation with Eva grew to mirror her sentiments towards him.

“There is a high likelihood of a leak in M-Tek, and I want an outsider to pinpoint it and shore up the hole. I cannot trust anybody from the ranks of my own companies with this matter, because they may already be compromised, or part of this obscure terrorist faction.”

He clicked something and the image of the graffiti disappeared, making way to some sort of indecipherable bar graph.

“What you see here are the losses we calculate whenever a disgruntled employee leaks information to the public, our tech goes missing from our premises and ends up on the black market, or corporate espionage from rivals putting out competing solutions ends up affecting our annual gross.”

He clicked again and a second graph appeared below the other.

“And these are the losses we marked in the last two quarters since ‘M’ has been making moves in New Port City.” He paused. “Do you see the difference?”

Just before Eva could exasperatedly remark that she, in fact, could not, Chen interjected with a furrowed brow, “Almost no losses. Curious.”

“Precisely,” Sharpe said. “And that is far more worrisome, my friends. That means that whoever is stealing from my businesses—and I believe it is this ‘M’—they are keeping what they steal to themselves. I should not have to remind you of just how cutting-edge M-Tek’s innovations are. In the wrong hands…”

Eva crossed her arms in frustration. Frustrated because he was selling her on this. Still, she felt the need to play hard-to-get. Sharpe was not the kind of person she wanted to be associated with.

“Alright. So, someone is robbing you of your high-tech toys before you can sell to the highest bidder yourself—someone is hoarding them. What was it you said at the beginning? You’re no charity, Mister Sharpe. What’s your angle?”

He raised a hand, counting down his reasons with a finger outstretched each.

“One—you close a leak for me. Two—I will have you outfitted with the best tech I can provide to help you on the operation, which will serve as a test run for the equipment, as well as a test run for M-Tek’s security. Three—and this one may interest you as much as it does myself—we learn who this ‘M’ is, what they want, and we put a stop to them. I consider the latter a public service because I reckon these terrorists may become an international threat sooner or later. The rest may be selfishly motivated, but I believe whatever affects me and my company now may affect everybody in the future. I prefer getting on top of things.”

“Fine. Enough already. You convinced me. I will need full access to—”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Sharpe interrupted her, wagging a finger. “Here’s the real catch you asked about. This will be a covert operation. Security inside of M-Tek premises is so tight that your arrival cannot be announced. Your esteemed royal status also affords no chance at recognition, and we have facial recognition technology that would alert everybody to who you are in an instant. Anything but going in full-dark may tip off the thieving mole to our little joint venture.”

“Fantastic. Let me guess, the security outfit is authorized to use lethal force on intruders?”

“Yes. I’m afraid—and grateful alike—that your Crown grants us generous extraterritorial rights when it comes to defending company grounds.”

The smile across his lips was thin and sinister.

Eva jutted out her jaw. Her hands itched to punch Sharpe in the face. Unfortunately, it would have only busted the screen in front of her.

He continued, “I understand your concern. But I assure you, the tools at your disposal will give you an edge.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Eva said, “I think I’ve changed my mind. This is starting to sound like a suicide mission.”

“Not really. If things take a turn for the worse, let yourself get identified, and I can prevent any debacle from reaching the media, and my employees will know better than anybody not to harm you in the slightest. They may be a bit… rough when they escort you off-grounds, but you should come out as healthy as you entered. If you are as good as I hear through the grapevine, that is.”

“The same does not extend to the mole. I need to get them out alive if we want to know more about ‘M’.”

“Yes, of course. I agree. I have full confidence in your ability to handle this matter. Don’t ask me how, but I gained access to your service record—the unredacted files—”

“Alright, enough,” Chen growled. “Are you going anywhere with this? Eva, you don’t have to do this. I for my part have heard enough. This is not what we talked about, Desmond.”

Twitching, the corners of Sharpe’s lips curled into another fiendish smile.

“As I said—if you say no, there will be no hard feelings,” Sharpe replied.

Eva was so tempted to turn this rich bastard down just to spite him, but she had learned a lesson recently. She somehow found it in herself to consider cooperation. Mostly, she wanted to get back home and back with all the people she cared about, starting with Hien.

A new lead on “M” would just be a cherry on top.

She sliced through the silence with sharply resolute words.

“I’m in.”

Chen’s face cycled through uncharacteristically expressive emotions written across it. Surprise, confusion, irritation, disapproval, and embittered acceptance.

“Perfect,” Sharpe said, steepling his fingers. “I knew you would see things my way.”

In fact, she did not see things his way. But this may have been several birds with the same stone for her, as well.

“Oh—one more thing,” Sharpe added. “The R&D you may see in the M-Tek laboratory is top secret. I trust that someone with integrity such as yours will not speak of what you see there, even without the threat of litigation. You of all people causing me financial losses would not be a good look.”

Eva squinted and asked, “Why, is there something dubious going on there?”

Sharpe smiled again. “Even if there was, we wouldn’t want that to come out. Given the history between Sharpe Industries and your Crown, I think it would reflect badly on all of us.” He paused and tapped his lips theatrically. “Then again, nothing that my company couldn’t scrub away with some good PR and spin. The reputation of the royal family and the monarchy as a conceptual whole, on the other hand—”

“Enough of this,” Chen snapped. “You’ve made your point. She agreed. I believe we’re done here.”

Sharpe’s smile faded ever so slightly.

“I trust it is an implicit agreement of silence between us. There’s no need to sign anything as far as I’m concerned,” Sharpe said. “Your word is worth more than gold, Princess.”

She finally answered, “Oh, don’t sweat it. I don’t kiss and tell.”

He smirked.

“Then I will arrange for everything. When you arrive in the next port, an agent of mine will take care of your further travel needs, and a man by the name of Ghostwall will provide you with the special equipment. As you will be staying undercover from here on out, what codename do you want us to use in safe transmissions?”

Eva did not think for long.

“Swan.”

“Excellent. I wish you a pleasant rest of your journey. It was truly an honor.”

Still, not a single word of his sounded honest. All calculation. All poisoned.

Nobody said anything in response to that.

“Goodbye,” Sharpe said. His corner of the screen winked out, going dark.

Chen frowned.

“Are you sure about this? You can still back out. He can’t force you to do anything.”

“I’m a big girl, Huang. I can handle myself.”

Now she was lying. She was worried about how this would turn out.

But it was a perfect opportunity to learn more about “M”—and perhaps dig up dirt on Sharpe.

She would not be intimidated by his threats.

All she worried about now were the others.

“Huang, I—”

“Yes?”

“Can you arrange to pick up Hien? The girl who joined me in leaving the DMZ. I want her escorted into Lex’s care before I meet with this Ghostwall character. And I want you to brief Lex about everything we can spare to talk about. She can keep quiet.”

“Still debts to square I see,” he said with a crooked grin, then turned serious again. “I will do that. Anything else?”

Eva nodded several times over, as she pondered the precise words to relay.

“Yes. Please tell Lex that I want to meet her when this is all over. That I will tell her everything in my own words. And that I’m sorry for being a burden.”

Chen stared into the camera for a long while. Then he nodded.

“I’ll pass it on. Goodbye, Evangeline. And… good luck.”

She wanted to quip about not needing luck, but she needed luck more than anything, and luck had been almost consistently rotten lately. She smiled.

“Bye, Huang. Catch you on the flipside.”

His corner of the screen winked out, leaving only a black rectangle.

Eva tapped the monitor’s switch to turn it off. She got up to leave. The only door leading outside this cramped quarter was locked. She knocked.

No answer.

Her fist thumped harder against it.

Finally, she heard something click and then a lock disengaged. The door opened, and the same musclebound Devonlake captain gestured for her to lead the way back to the cabin where Hien awaited.

On the way back, from behind her, he asked, “Your face is awfully familiar. Are you—”

“No.”

She could almost hear the smugness, sensing a shit-eating grin on his face. Eva would avoid talking to the Devonlake crew for the rest of their trip.

Miles and miles away, in the M-Tek building, two security guards dressed in black rode downwards on a long elevator ride.

16th floor.

“There’s this new game show where they have contestants cook off against each other to determine which kingdom’s cuisine is superior,” said one of them, breaking the awkward silence.

“That sounds stupid,” replied the other in a low grumble.

10th floor.

“That’s not all there is to it. See, the contestants also have to dress as royalty of each kingdom, but in outfits that are, like, hundreds of years old? And the cuisine has to be made outta ingredients they would have had back then, too.”

5th floor.

The other guard groaned loudly.

“Come on, man. Do you hate fun? Always bitching and moaning about everything. Don’t you watch TV?”

Ground floor.

“No,” said the other. “TV sucks. I can’t believe you’re frying your brain with that garbage.”

2nd floor below ground level.

“Oh, and what? Practicing on a singing career while you’re whacking off to the lousy training videos here? I bet you’re—"

The access grate from the ceiling dropped like a rock and rattled on the floor between them, prompting confused looks from both security guards, directed at the object and not its source.

A female figure clad entirely in black dropped through the hole left open from the missing grate, landing between them like a cat. Grunts and shouts erupted between the three figures, but the fight was surprisingly short.

A furious kick pinned one of them by the neck against a corner, a volley of punches knocked the wind out of the other, and when the first whipped out a taser rod, she deflected his jab with the crackling weapon and sent it flying into the crotch of the other, who comically wobbled around while getting shocked until he joined the grate on the floor.

The second pushed free from the intruder’s boot but she landed strikes from his shins up to his face, with the final quick one-two punch making him see stars. He flew back into the mirroring wall of the elevator which cracked upon impact, then passed out. She snatched an ID badge from his chest and yanked, ripping some fabric off with it and pocketing the item.

A soft DING preceded the elevator final halt. Its doors slid open at the 7th floor below ground level.

The black-suited intruder slipped out, sticking to one side of the dimly lit corridor, slinking right underneath a camera sweeping the hall. She tossed a tiny green-blinking object up to the camera, and it magnetically clung to the device’s surface with a soft thwup. The camera stopped pivoting altogether.

The intruder sprang into motion and jogged down the corridor, coming to a stop behind a milky-white glass door with the M-Tek logo emblazoned on it, above a sticker sign that warned employees of the consequences of not having their ID badge on display at all times.

Here, she paused and produced a long handgun from the myriads of odd tools on her belt, then pressed the stolen ID badge from the guard against the magnetic reader next to the glass door.

A green light flared up above the door, and it slid open sideways with a soft hiss.

The intruder jogged inside, immediately ducking beneath rows of glossy marble planters which provided an almost sickeningly fake rendition of a jungle, with all manners of ferns and palm trees in this underground lobby. A stunningly elaborate mural on the walls had been painted to make the chamber look even more like another place entirely, with a mountainous horizon and a sea on the opposite side. Red leather couches lined the center square of this recreational lobby.

When the next door opened and some darkhaired woman in a white lab coat entered, she stared down the barrel of the intruder’s gun for a second that felt like forever. Then she slowly raised her hands. The badge hanging from her chest pocket read: Doctor Ida Sverigund.

“Don’t shoot. I’ll do anything you say,” said the scientist calmly.

The intruder quietly ushered her to turn around with a painful clutch on her shoulder, shoving the lab coat-clad woman right back through the door, keeping the gun squarely trained on her back.

This led them down a hallway branching off into high-ceilinged chambers separated by glass windows, containing rows of towering tanks. Each chromed tank had a tiny porthole and bubbling purple liquid behind it.

The whole place thrummed with magic.

Machines belched out steam behind sealed metal doors.

Said Doctor Sverigund, “What do you want? Maybe I can help—"

She was shoved more forcefully.

The intruder’s mask distorted the voice of its wearer when she replied in a menacing monotone, “Shut up and keep moving.”

“I can lead you to the most valuable research if you promise not to—”

Another shove.

“What part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand?” threatened the intruder, poking Sverigund in the back with the pistol. Arriving at the end of the corridor and ignoring all the strange rooms on the way after casting a glance into each of them, she ordered, “Door.”

Doctor Sverigund lifted her badge to the magnetic lock, and it emitted a beep. This next door was made of shiny metal and completely opaque. It swished ominously when it slid open. The badge zipped back on a cord and slapped against Sverigund’s chest, and the intruder pushed her into a security checkpoint with a metal detector and some lockers.

Eyes went wide. A security guard and a scientist had been idling about in this room, their deer-in-headlights frozen body language conveying that they had been flirting with one another before the interruption, surprised by the intruder.

The security guard’s hand went to a submachine gun on the desk, but he took a dart to the neck before he could reach it, then stumbled backwards, tearing down a folding chair behind the desk as he keeled over. The other scientist emitted a clipped but terrified shriek, hands shooting up in the air and trembling like a dry leaf in the wind, immediately begging for mercy.

The intruder said, “Get down on the ground, hands behind your head.”

She complied. Then the intruder shot her in the back with another dart, provoking a gasp before robbing the scientist of her consciousness.

The intruder turned around and grabbed Sverigund by an arm before the doctor could run. Twisted the arm. Though Sverigund’s face contorted in pain, she made no according sound, just gritting her teeth.

“Next door,” commanded the intruder.

“Wait. Wait! There’s a security turret—without Jackson’s retina scan, it will activate if we continue on without his authorization,” said the coat.

The intruder motioned to grab the unconscious security guard but was immediately interrupted by Sverigund.

“No use. The system can tell if a subject is dead or unconscious. It can even—”

“I don’t need the instruction manual. Speak up sooner next time.”

“You shot him with that tranq pistol before anybody could have possibly said anything!”

The intruder pushed her up against the next door.

“What kind of turret? Where is it placed? And open this door. Now.”

Sverigund used her badge to unlock the next door. Something buzzed, but it opened. Every light around them turned red.

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen them in use!”

“Stay down,” said the intruder, wrangling Doctor Sverigund till she dropped to her knees and waited there.

The intruder’s black-helmeted head featured a sinister-looking breathing mask—though all designed for efficiency, the sharp edges and angular shape lent it a vaguely demonic air. She poked it outside the next door. A split-second after she withdrew her head, a machine gun spat bullets at the doorway.

THUM-THUM-THUN-THUM-THUM-THUN-THUM-THUM-THUN-THUN-THWUNK.

The metal door ate the final shot, the rest of the high caliber bullets had chipped away at concrete walls where the intruder’s head had poked out from.

“Stay down,” the intruder repeated. At the same time, she holstered the dart pistol and produced a long cylindrical tube which she screwed onto a second gun.

She tumbled out into the adjacent corridor. Through the thick window, Sverigund witnessed the intruder roll to a stop on her knees—she fired the silenced gun several times.

It all happened so quickly that the turret could not respond with more automated gunfire. A gatling gun drooped into view, hanging in shambles from a mechanical arm that was mounted inside a small metal niche on the ceiling, the secret panel originally concealing it now busted and dangling down. Sparks sporadically jumped from the bowels of the niche.

Returning to Doctor Sverigund before she could run, the fleet-footed intruder grabbed her by the collar and dragged her back up onto her feet.

“How many people work here? Speak.”

She poked Sverigund in the side with the substantially more lethal silenced pistol.

The doctor stammered out a string of broken thoughts and sentences that died on the way out of her mouth, correcting herself multiple times.

“Eight. Eight! No more than eight at all times. Company policy.”

The intruder shoved her aside, kicked in a door, and found an interview room behind it—a windowless little cell with folding metal chairs and a bare table in between them. It was cold and impersonal. More like an interrogation room.

Out of nowhere, someone exclaimed, “What in the damned Hells is going on h—”

A man descending a circular flight of stairs gripped his neck where the needle of a dart was suddenly stuck in it, and he began rolling down the rest of the steps in what looked like a painful series of slow, little falls.

When he landed on the floor in front of them and stopped moving, the intruder pointed to the stairs.

“What is up there?”

“Uh—uh, just restrooms, offices. Lockers, showers,” Sverigund answered.

“Who’s not there right now?”

“I don’t know! I was just on my way home before—”

“Move,” the intruder ordered, shoving Sverigund to go up the stairs instead of following any of the branching hallways.

They took wide steps over the unconscious scientist on the ground and ascended.

In an office, two scientists were focused on a whiteboard. One of them stood in front of the board, biting his lip as he was trying to solve an equation, while the other sat at her desk, shoveling what looked like cold noodles from a plastic cup into her mouth with a pair of chopsticks.

They both slowly turned their heads, dumbfounded, when they saw who was standing in the door. They did not even manage to make any noteworthy sounds before the sedatives in the darts kicked in, one sticking out of the chest of the guy by the whiteboard and one out of the neck of the young scientist eating ramen. The terrified looks on their faces spoke volumes to their surprise. The guy with the whiteboard pen dropped like a sack of potatoes and the other scientist’s head splashed in spilled soup, falling asleep at her desk.

“If you’re not lying, that leaves only two more,” said the intruder, yanking at Sverigund’s shoulder and pushing her farther along.

Clicking and clacking sounds accompanied her reloading of the tranquilizer pistol.

With her hostage at arm’s length and a jab of the silenced pistol between the shoulder blades to keep her motivated in moving, they swept through the locker and shower rooms, finding them all deserted.

“It’s not too late to surrender,” the doctor muttered without turning around.

She flinched when she expected the intruder to hit her, but no such action followed.

“Fat chance,” said the intruder, chortling. The electronic distortion delivered by the mask made it sound raspier, sinister. “I’m only getting out of here in one of two ways. Either walking out with what I want, or in a body bag. Do you understand?”

Sverigund nodded. Then said, “The remaining two people are scientists. Please don’t hurt them. There should be two guards on the way to change shifts with the checkpoint officer and the one you shot on the stairs.”

“No concern now,” said the intruder.

They looped back and descended the stairwell, stepping over the unconscious guard at the bottom and entering another corridor.

A gatling gun rattled away, shaving chunks of concrete off the walls, and tearing up the floor. Before Sverigund knew what was happening, the wind was knocked out of her as she hit the ground, having been yanked back and tossed aside like a ragdoll.

In a lull of the turret’s shooting, the intruder aimed her silenced gun around the corner and blazed away. Something exploded and she ducked back behind the door. Then she grabbed Sverigund and pulled her back up onto her feet.

“You’re not going to kill anybody?” asked the doctor.

“Unlike your employer, whose turrets don’t distinguish between valued employees and armed robbers.”

She grabbed her and shoved her along once more.

The corridor took them to an intersection where numerous labs glowed with bright light, separated by tall glass windows, and sliding doors secured with airlocks.

The intruder swept her weapons back and forth and gave Sverigund another unpleasant push with the butt of a gun to keep moving. One of the airlocks hissed. The intruder swiveled to point her guns at it.

Announcing his presence was a scientist in a lab coat who had decided that day to play hero. Someone who had decidedly seen way too many action movies and possessed far too little training with the firearm in his hands to pose a real threat.

“You’re goin’ down!” he shouted, but his voice trembled as badly as his aim.

Sverigund tumbled back onto the floor behind the intruder—first frustrated when she bumped her head against the wall, then realizing the intruder had pushed her to protect her when the scientist opened fire with his eyes screwed shut.

He shot every bullet from his pistol until it only clicked away ineffectively with an empty magazine.

The intruder stumbled back one step, then paused to look down at her chest. Many shots had missed her entirely—one of them having broken a fluorescent tube on the ceiling, now swinging back and forth where it dangled from an end. But the bullets that miraculously struck true against the intruder’s body had been smushed up like accordions—they clicked as they dropped from her chest and hit the ground, peeling off the intruder’s strange night suit when she swept them away with the back of her gloved hand.

The scientist with the gun began to panic. He turned and ran away, screaming at the top of his lungs, silenced just seconds later by the tranquilizer dart shot into his butt cheek. He tumbled sideways onto the floor in the narrow corridor.

In one of the labs, all sorts of gadgets had created an array of laser beams humming with concentrated magic enchantments, the inner workings of a bizarre machine laid bare, connected to a hulking armored suit by a tangled knot of colorful wires. Nearby, the final scientist cowered in a corner with her hands over her head, shivering and peeking out at the intruder through terror-stricken eyes.

Sverigund obeyed another shove and used her badge to open the airlock to that lab. She passed through with the intruder right behind her, both sprayed by a cloud of disinfectant and microwaved very briefly to destroy any other microscopic contaminants.

The cowering scientist stammered away, “P-please d-d-don’t hurt—"

A silent dart sank into her shoulder and quickly knocked her out.

Things happened way too quickly once more as Sverigund was spun around by her kidnapper and shoved against the nearest counter, knocking over empty beakers, and causing a mess of clipboards and other tools to cascade off the counter, all clattering onto the floor.

The intruder stuck the injector gun’s muzzle right underneath her chin, reminding her that the weapon was still painful even if not lethal.

“What in the hell do you want?” asked the doctor, paralyzed with an impotent anger.

“You are the mole,” said the intruder.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You are the one smuggling tech and secrets out of this place.”

“I don’t—”

With a violent nudge and painfully pressing the weapon harder against her jaw, scraping the skin, the intruder threatened again, “Don’t play dumb.”

“Okay! Shit. Okay, yes. Shit. How did you find out—oh goddess—”

“You just told me right now. I was guessing.”

Sverigund’s eyes went wide. “Fuck—"

“One of the guards even pissed himself. You, on the other hand, Miss Sverigund,” said the intruder, tapping the doctor’s ID badge with the tip of her gun. “If that’s even your real name—you were the only person here who didn’t flinch when I pointed a gun at you. You also knew about the security protocol with the turrets and the failsafe—I’d bet money on that not being in the lab employee guidelines. Besides, what do you care about guard shift intervals?”

“Okay! Shit. Did—did Sharpe send you? Shit. Please don’t kill me. I have family—”

The intruder shook her and shouted, “Don’t lie to me!”

“Please—”

“Damn it, listen. I’m not going to kill you. Sharpe probably wants that. I am here to help you.”

The intruder ripped at a latch holding the mask onto her helmet. The Coil Suit emitted a small but sharp hiss, similar to the airlocks before. The mask folded open from the middle, revealing Evangeline’s face.

Sverigund’s visage rapidly cycled through several stages of confusion and realization, and before she could ask if she was who she thought she was, Evangeline continued talking. “I will get you out of here and do my best to keep you alive. I just want to meet ‘M’ without any bloodshed.”

Chairman Desmond Sharpe sat in his favorite red winged chair in an opulent office. He stroked a hairless gray cat that was sitting on his lap and purring.

With vested interest, he stared at the screen. The tinny voices of the two women talking in the M-Tek lab reached him through the screen’s built-in speakers.

“Aren’t you afraid that he can hear us talking right now?” asked Sverigund.

Evangeline said, “No, and last I checked, the penny-pinching dirtbag has been cutting corners on tracking audio with his security systems.”

Sharpe smiled to himself over just how wrong the princess was about that, then continued to stroke his cat.

While the two women commenced their escape, backtracking through the absolute dead end of a lab complex, he calmly leaned over and pushed a button on his intercom.

“The M-Tek labs are compromised. Initiate omega protocol.”

Then he leaned back and continued stroking his cat, eager to follow their attempts at egress.

“Oh, Mister Mole Rat,” he said to the cat. “You know why I admire Trager’s security system designs?”

The cat purred.

“Exactly. He makes it so it’s far easier to get in than out. You learn more about the intrusion measures, the intruders themselves, and you can upgrade for the next miserable fool who makes the mistake of even trying.”

He chuckled sadistically.

Eva escorted Doctor Sverigund back to the elevator where two guards still lay unconscious. The women boarded the elevator and Eva paused, considering their method of ascent.

The rogue scientist said, “With the industrial elevator locked down, this is the only way up. With the silent alarm triggered, I don’t think they’ll allow the elevator to rise. Or if they do, we’ll be facing a dozen armed guards on our next stop.”

Eva hopped up, grabbing hold onto the edges, and pulling herself up through the hole she had left in the ceiling, vanishing through it in one fluid motion.

Speaking down to Sverigund, she said, “Don’t worry. I got this.”

Then the elevator emitted a DING, its doors closed, and it lurched upwards into motion.

“How did you do that?” hissed Sverigund.

Eva extended a gloved hand through the hole, offering to help the doctor climb up.

“I didn’t. Get your ass up here, quickly.”

Sharpe smirked. He refrained from alerting his personnel of what he witnessed and simply continued to watch the spectacle unfold like someone watching a game show. Mister Mole Rat meowed.

Sverigund took Eva’s arm and scrambled as she clambered up and out of view from the elevator’s camera.

The elevator’s digital display counted upwards.

Ground floor.

DING. Swish.

A chorus of voices shouted almost simultaneously, “Freeze!” – “On the ground, now!” – “Get down!”

Ten armed guards yelled at the elevator, eager to pull the triggers on their guns until they fully registered that only two unconscious guards snoozed away on the elevator’s floor. Their yelling died down.

Then Eva swung into view, hanging upside down from the hole in the ceiling, both guns out and flaring up with shots. A mixture of darts and gunshots ripped through the small crowd, wounding several of the armored guards, stunning others whose body armor protected them, and needling the rest with darts. Few darts did anything, but bullets sent several security officers sprawling on the ground, diving for cover, or keeling over onto the shiny, checkered marble floors.

She swung back up into cover before any of them returned fire. The deafening hail of bullets shook the elevator and littered it with bullet holes. The glass from the already-cracked mirror in the back fully shattered and showered the floor with shards.

Two tiny devices flew out from the elevator and bounced along the marble floors. They exploded into rapidly spreading clouds of smoke, cloaking the vicinity of the elevator doors in a thick black fog, and provoking fits of coughing from the still-standing guards.

They failed to notice the blur of a sleek figure darting through their midst. They missed the flash of a short, curved blade swinging about and slashing left and right. They only noticed something wrong when pants dropped, severed weapon straps and ammunition belts flopped onto the floor, and a flurry of kicks and strikes sent them flying in every direction, followed by several groans and shouts. Stray shots only hit walls.

By the time the smoke had cleared and all ten guards were on the ground in a mixture of unconsciousness or reeling in pain, Eva was already dragging Sverigund behind her towards the lobby entrance.

Halfway across the ostentatiously spacious and decadently furnished hall—

CLANK-CLANK-CLANK-CLANK—

Loud clanking erupted from all around them. The front doors and the entire glass front that framed the lobby’s circumference darkened. Metal shutters unfolded and slammed down, locking them inside.

Eva shouted a curse, distorted through the plas-steel mask over her face.

The thumping of combat boots spilled into the hall, and the guards that approached now were armed with even heavier weapons than the first wave. Immediately upon entering from the far end, they smashed riot shields into the floor to take cover behind them, issuing the same orders for surrender as the ones intercepting the elevator.

Only seconds too late.

The door to the nearby stairwell slammed shut behind Sverigund, where the two women had already run off to. The commanding officer barked orders at the others, splitting to secure every way upstairs.

Halfway to the fifth floor and already out of breath, Sverigund panted between words when she said, “We need to make it to the CTO’s office. There’s a security override there, it’s our only hope of—”

“Forget about it,” Eva cut in. “Keep moving. I will get us off the rooftop!”

“What? How?” Sverigund shouted at her, audibly growing more desperate and fearful for her life now. “The building has an automated anti-air gun that will take out any airlifts!”

“There won’t be any airlift,” growled Eva.

“What? Are you insane?”

Volleys of bullets rained from above, spraying them with sparks where shots ricocheted off metal railings. Eva kicked open the nearest fire exit and motioned hectically for Sverigund to go there, which she did. They escaped the bullet storm and charged down red-carpeted hallways with beautifully warm lighting.

Using a submachine gun that she had claimed from one of the guards, Eva pointed it at a man in a three-piece suit with dark rings under his eyes, who stepped outside of his office to inspect the sudden explosion of commotion.

“Get down!”

His eyes went wide, and he dove back inside his office, slamming the door shut behind him.

A blinding light flared up to their left, forcing Sverigund to shield her eyes, and the rumbling of helicopter rotors made every window vibrate ominously. Over a loudspeaker, the pilot of the gunship shouted at them.

“Surrender now! We are by law authorized to exert lethal force if you fail to comply!”

The two women froze as the combat helicopter hovered just outside the floor they were on. The stretch from them to the other end of the hallway and relative safety of the next stairwell gaped dangerously wide.

Eva hissed at Sverigund, “Run.” Then she added with more ferocity, “Run faster than you’ve ever run before in your life.”

They bolted.

The rotating barrels of the gun mounted underneath the chopper’s nose began to spin until their discordant whine pierced even glass.

The ensuing cacophony was apocalyptic.

Windowfronts exploded, walls were torn apart, desks ripped to shreds, the man in the suit dismembered with screams that were drowned out by the tidal wave of noise. The rapid rhythmic thundering of the gunship’s cannon sliced across the entire floor, relentlessly raining death and destruction.

Sharpe did not even blink while he watched his orders end a life. The kind of cost he had long calculated as acceptable if this meant the leak was liquidated.

Shards of broken wood, brass furnishings, trashed computers—all sorts of debris lay scattered across the seventh floor when the chopper’s gatling stopped firing.

Eva dragged Sverigund up some steps, but there was no way she would survive. The undercover infiltrator disguised as lab scientist had a deadly hole in her belly that wept with excessive amounts of blood pumping from it.

She had not run fast enough.

Eva clutched her and pleaded with her. Shook her in desperation.

“Please, tell me, quickly. How do I reach ‘M’? Please! Tell me!”

One last groan escaped the late “Doctor Sverigund”, ending in a raspy gasp on her final breath.

Nothing of use.

Then her head slumped lifelessly against Eva’s shoulder.

The princess dropped her and jolted into standing, knowing she had no time to lose—the thundering of combat boots quickly closed in on her. She whipped out a third gun and fired it, launching a hook and thin wire upwards. It latched onto a railing and the wire recoiled and zipped at breakneck speed until it stretched taut. With a sudden jerk, it propelled Eva upwards and bullets from small arms began to tear up plaster and metal of the stairwell all around her. With the volatile momentum, she launched herself up several flights, hurtling over the edge with a somersault and painfully rolling into cover in a way that would leave her with many welts and bruises.

Staggered volleys of bullets kept flying up the stairwell, but she did not pause, kicking through the door she had secured for exit upon infiltrating the building in the first place.

She charged straight up a thin metal stairway and emerged onto a rooftop where howling winds cut across the surface, right underneath the gigantic glowing logo of M-Tek.

Losing no time, she took a running start and leapt right off the edge of the rooftop.

In freefall, the coils along her suit hissed and a pitch-black glider unfolded from her back and limbs, connecting and solidifying into a winged kite midair. Like a human rocket, she glided past the rising gunship, its floodlight sweeping every top floor of the M-Tek high-rise in search of intruders, and narrowly missing her. Their instruments would also fail to detect her.

The prototype Phantom suit carried Eva away and her flight path arced in a sharp curve, swooping past other tall buildings until she was swallowed by the city skyline on Sharpe’s camera feeds. He kept tapping a pen to switch from camera to camera until he fully lost track of her.

Mister Mole Rat meowed as he hopped off the CEO’s lap and sauntered around the luxurious office. Sharpe got up and visited his private bar. He helped himself to a glass of the most expensive whiskey in the world, which he cradled in a palm while he returned to his intercom.

He pressed the button and spoke, “Call off the chopper. Your work is done. I trust you can tackle debriefing without me.”

Sharpe awaited answer and killed the transmission after he had spoken. He walked over to the window of his office, where he overlooked the nightly skyline of New Port City. He savored the scent of his whiskey, taking a timid sip from it.

His phone rang.

He sensed what was coming next and smiled to himself.

He tapped the earbud in his right ear.

“This is Desmond Sharpe. How can I help you?” No real question to his words, just a cold and smugly smoky voice that could sell refrigerators to people living in the arctic.

“You slime bag,” Eva spat into the phone, causing him to adjust the headset volume. “What the hell was that? We had her.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific. I am a very busy man, Swan.”

“Oh, spare me!” she yelled. “I know you know what happened, you slime. And you sound exactly like I expected you to sound.”

“Hm? How’s that?”

“I know you’re happy with today’s outcome. But I swear, this is gonna bite you in the ass. I was this close to learning about ‘M’, you homicidal prick.”

Sharpe took another sip from his cup and smacked his lips. Pursed them. Savored the taste.

“Shame, really. But that mishap was on you.”

The silence that followed was filled with the fuming rage of Eva, finding no words of hers to express it other than, “We better never meet in person.”

“I agree,” he said, intonating it almost musically. “I’m glad you see things my way.”

“Fuck off.” She hung up.

Sharpe smirked and sat back down to finish his whiskey as he gazed at the glittering skyline of New Port City, then turned to other matters while Mister Mole Rat pranced about his penthouse-sized office.

The sociopath would be sleeping soundly that night.

[mychlapci]

It's the Optimus anon again.

This time it'll be G1 Oppy related 🫡

Optimus in a heat cycle, not realizing he's in it, sure he's all warm and uncomfortable but whe is he not? The dude ignores the signs and returns to his duties...which leads him to now.

In a mating press getting railed into by none other then Grimlock, who had managed to lead him away from the rest of a very horny dinobot and Autobot crew.

Primes gestation tank is full and when Grimlock pulls out the primes Valve, swollen and sensitive, sealed by the panel, walks back to the team.

Once back at the ark he's taken to med bay, now mind you a bot in heat is bad, a prime in heat? Everyone wanted to jump him.

This leading to the entire autobot army fragging there prime, when his heat ends the dudes sparked up with a large litter...10%either Ratchet, Irionhide or Grimlock are the ones helping to give donations.

You think the cons would be cocky enough to try and attack a sparked prime? Like if he's on the battle field before he's too big to get up and move and some unfortunate con shoots at him?

hmmmm optimus in heat... everyone's reproductive systems have been shut down long ago either automatically because of the stress of war or simply because they thought it impractical, and Optimus was no exception, so he has no reason to assume he's entered a heat cycle... of course the dinobots have been forged on earth, they are more beast leaning than others, their reproductive systems are not only on, but actively engaged...⬇️

so when Optimus walks by, Grimlock can probably smell the heat off of him immediately... and the Prime is a little less reasonable now that he's in heat, he lets himself be lured into an empty room though he doesn't know why, and before he knows it, Grimlock's pounding his valve until Optimus is shaking, moans muffled behind his mask. That kicks up his heat full force, and once Grimlock pulls out, his valve remains swollen, node pressing against the inside of his modesty panelling as he stumbles into the med-bay to try and find out what's happening to him... he's suddenly so much hotter, he'd been taken so brutally and he finds he wants more...

In the med-bay, the scent of his heat is so strong no one present can control themselves around Optimus anymore, long forgotten reproductive systems now revving up. Ratchet tries to remain professional but he can't help it, soon enough he's fingerfucking the poor Prime until he starts begging for spike. Wheeljack, who was loitering about, Ironhide, who was there with a battle injury, a slightly distraught but still very horny First Aid and perhaps several others who caught the scent of his heat all take turns on him until he's been properly bred...

and oh. oh boy. Optimus' heat passes, he's freshly knocked up and while he can't forget how he had been ravaged by his team, he can definitely put things back to normal... but when he gets injured on the field, all hell breaks loose. Everyone is so worried for their Prime, he's carrying the collective autobot litter and the 'Cons dare injure him? The dinobots probably tear the decepticon army up after that (the command trine comes back to Megatron more injured than ever before, letting everyone know something weird is going on with the autobots...)

Optimus is probably bound to the base after that, not allowed to come out, even when Megatron has one of his weird breakdowns and demands a duel with Optimus or something by breaking things in public. Optimus remains in his room, kept refueled and safe by his autobots...

[ashtonlanger]

A Closer Look at the Mustang EcoBoost: How Does it Achieve High MPG?

The Ford Mustang has been an emblem of American muscle cars for generations, celebrated for its power and performance. However, the introduction of the Mustang EcoBoost MPG brought a remarkable shift to the iconic pony car's legacy by placing a significant emphasis on fuel efficiency. In this article, we will take a closer look at the Mustang EcoBoost and uncover the secrets of how it achieves high miles per gallon (MPG) without sacrificing its exhilarating driving experience.

The Turbocharged Heart of the Mustang EcoBoost

At the heart of the Mustang EcoBoost's impressive fuel efficiency is its innovative 2.3-liter inline-four-cylinder engine. Unlike the traditional V8 engines that have dominated the Mustang lineup, the EcoBoost boasts a turbocharged powerplant. Here's how this turbocharged engine contributes to high MPG:

Turbocharging and Direct Injection

The turbocharger is a small but powerful device that compresses the air entering the engine, allowing more air to be forced into the combustion chamber. This process, known as forced induction, significantly increases the engine's efficiency by providing more oxygen for combustion. Coupled with direct fuel injection, where fuel is sprayed directly into the combustion chamber, the Mustang EcoBoost's engine can produce more power from less fuel.

Smaller Displacement, Better Efficiency

The smaller displacement of the four-cylinder engine means less internal friction and energy loss compared to larger V8 engines. Smaller engines inherently require less fuel to operate, and this plays a pivotal role in achieving high MPG. The Mustang EcoBoost's engine achieves a fine balance between power and efficiency.

Variable Valve Timing

The EcoBoost engine features advanced variable valve timing, allowing it to optimize the timing of intake and exhaust valve openings. This technology ensures that the engine operates at peak efficiency across a wide range of speeds and loads. It adapts to driving conditions to provide both power and fuel savings.

Aerodynamic Efficiency

Another key factor contributing to the Mustang EcoBoost's high MPG is its aerodynamic design. While the Mustang is celebrated for its classic styling, Ford engineers have incorporated modern aerodynamic elements to enhance efficiency:

Sleek Body Profile

The Mustang EcoBoost features a sleek body profile designed to minimize wind resistance. This streamlined shape helps the car cut through the air more efficiently, reducing the energy required to maintain speed. This is especially beneficial during highway driving, where the Mustang can achieve optimal fuel economy.

Active Grille Shutters

The Mustang EcoBoost incorporates active grille shutters that automatically open and close to control airflow to the engine. When additional cooling is not required, these shutters close to reduce drag, making the vehicle more aerodynamic. When more cooling is needed, such as during intense acceleration, the shutters open to provide maximum airflow.

Technological Advancements

The Mustang EcoBoost is not only about its engine and design; it also leverages advanced technologies to further improve fuel efficiency:

Start-Stop System

The Mustang EcoBoost is equipped with a start-stop system that automatically shuts off the engine when the vehicle comes to a stop and restarts it when you release the brake pedal. This feature eliminates unnecessary idling, saving fuel in city traffic and stop-and-go situations.

Driving Modes

The Mustang EcoBoost offers different driving modes, including an "Eco" mode. In this mode, the engine and transmission are adjusted to prioritize fuel efficiency. While it may reduce the car's responsiveness slightly, it's a valuable tool for conserving fuel on long drives or in heavy traffic.

Lightweight Materials

To further enhance fuel efficiency, the Mustang EcoBoost incorporates lightweight materials in its construction. Components like aluminum are used to reduce overall weight without compromising structural integrity. A lighter vehicle requires less energy to accelerate and maintain speed, thus improving MPG.

Conclusion

The Ford Mustang EcoBoost represents a remarkable evolution of the iconic muscle car, combining power and performance with a focus on fuel efficiency. The innovative turbocharged engine, aerodynamic design, and advanced technologies work in harmony to deliver impressive MPG figures. The Mustang EcoBoost demonstrates that performance and fuel efficiency can coexist, setting new standards for the sports car category. As we move towards a more environmentally conscious future, the Mustang EcoBoost showcases the adaptability and sustainability of a legendary American classic.