#c: kit mccoy

[sjsmith56]

The 107th - Part 4, From There to Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots

Summary - The 107th get their final leave before shipping off to Europe. Told from the POV of Corporal Dum Dum Dugan it recounts his time off, then reunion with Sergeant Barnes before the rest of the unit arrives. It picks up again on their arrival in Italy, leading to the unit’s capture by HYDRA, and rescue by Captain America.

Characters - Bucky Barnes, Dum Dum Dugan, Gabe Jones, Falsworth, Dernier, Morita, Colonel Lohmer, Dr. Arnim Zola, Steve Rogers.

Length - 4.5K

Warnings - Fears of marital infidelity, capture by enemy, reference of “Limey” about a British officer, violence against POWs, retaliation against sadistic officer, death of character.

Author notes - As in the previous one-shot Dum Dum Dugan and Gabe Jones are part of the 107th Infantry Unit.  Although this series of one shots are primarily about Bucky Barnes, I have a fondness for Dum Dum Dugan and decided to include a little personal scene involving him, his wife and his boys.  The scenes in the factory of Barnes, Dugan, and Jones after being captured are based on a digital comic book titled Captain America: First Vengeance by Fred Van Lente.

<<Part 3

〰️〰️〰️

Sarge came into the barracks hut at Camp McCoy on the morning of June 4, 1943, brandishing a set of papers, one for each of us.  Gabe and I looked at each other and figured this was it, our marching orders had come in.  Over a year's worth of training had made us a well oiled unit of fighting soldiers and now we were declared ready to join the fight in Europe.

"A Company," yelled Sarge.  "Gather around."  He waited while everyone in the hut got close.  "The Lieutenant is at Division and has charged me with giving you the good news.  We have our orders.  Tomorrow morning, at 08:00 you are officially on leave.  You may go home, see your wives, or your girlfriends, or your wives and your girlfriends, your folks and anyone else special to you.  If you're planning on having kids make them now boys, because it will be a while until you're back.  Maybe get married first before you do.  Make sure you have filled out your beneficiaries on your life insurance form.  You can give them to me right up to our embarkation date.  On Saturday, June 19 most of you are expected to report by no later than 15:00 at Fort Hamilton, Brooklyn.  There you will receive your kit and await the call for transport to a port in the United Kingdom.  Everything you need to know is in your travel orders which I have right here for you."

He began calling out names and handed out the letters one by one.  I received mine and looked at the top line.  Travel orders for Dugan, Timothy C. A., Corporal, Serial number etc.  I looked at the date where I had to report back and noticed it was different from what the others were told.

"Hey, Sarge, why do I have to report back on the 15th?" I asked.

Those big baby blues fixed their gaze on me.  "Because some of us have to be back early, like me.  I have to be back on the 12th, all corporals on the 15th.  I didn't write the orders ... I just obey them."

"My wife isn't going to be so happy with only ten days," I replied.

"Times are tough, Dugan," he retorted as he kept handing out papers.  "I have about a dozen girls that I'm supposed to see in seven days.  Might have to double them up.  Stewart!"

The Sarge had a reputation as a ladies' man, which I had actually seen proof of in Sparta.  He went through the girls of that town like a man on a mission although he made good friends with a couple of them, like Miss Warren.  She was a real sweetheart, didn't seem to mind that he dated other broads.  He always treated her right and with respect.  She wasn't like some of the cookies he went out with.  Come to think of it he had weekend liberty that week before our orders came in, and when Gabe and I went to the store to say hi to Miss Warren they said she had the weekend off.  We wondered if he took her away, but we always thought she was too smart to fall for Sarge's lines.  Still ....

"Dugan," said Gabe.  "What are your plans for leave?"

"I'm sure my wife has a list a mile long of things for me to take care of," I replied.  "You?"

The handsome black man smiled.  "I'm hitting the jazz clubs," he said, "Been too long since I heard some good music.  Then I'm going to fill up on as much of my Mother's and Aunty's food as I can.  Would have been nice if the Yankees were in town."

I laughed.  "Why you cheer for those losers I'll never know.  You're as bad as Sarge and his Dodgers.  Red Sox, now there's a team."

Other guys got in on the conversation over who the best baseball teams were.  I saw Sarge smile as we jawed at each other.  As long as it didn't come to a standoff or blows he didn't care if we poked harmless fun at each other.  If things did get out of hand Sergeant James Barnes was pretty good at breaking it up.  I guess he would be, having been a YMCA welterweight champion three years running.  That's where I first saw him, fighting a buddy of mine on the undercard as an amateur in 1941, before Pearl Harbor.  Sarge was good, maybe could have turned pro if not for the war.  When I first met him at Camp McCoy I told him about seeing him fight.  We had good talks about Joe Louis, Buddy Baer, and Billy Conn among other boxers of the time.

Early the next day, after morning chow, the three of us, me, Gabe and Sarge, headed out for the bus to the train station in Milwaukee with our duffel bags and travel orders.  There was a lineup of guys kissing their girls goodbye.  I guess Sarge must have done most of his goodbyes already as only Miss Warren was there for him, and they gave each other a rather tame hug, then he did kiss her, kind of sweet like.  She waved at Gabe and me, then left as she had to be at the store for opening.  We got into Milwaukee an hour later and boarded the train right away, finding our spot together, as we knew there would be an issue about Gabe riding with us.  Sure enough the conductor came and said there was a car for Gabe's type further along.  Sarge just looked straight at the man.

"According to the United States Army Corporal Jones is white," he said.  "He stays with us.  You have a problem with that you take it up with the United States Army."

Gabe, who was sitting by the window, let Sarge handle it and he just stretched his legs out so they covered the aisle seat next to me, then pulled his cap down over his eyes.  When another conductor came to try his luck at getting Gabe to move Sarge just pushed his cap up and gave him that intense blue eyed gaze he gave anyone who was messing with him.

"Private Jones is in this unit, and I believe this car as well as several others have been reserved for our unit, 200 soldiers, in fact.  If he moves, we all move with him.  You able to squeeze us all into a single car?"

That shut the conductor up.  Of course, we went through the same thing again when we transferred in Chicago but Sarge wasn't having any of it and we were soon on the train for the long overnight trip to New York.  When we pulled in at 08:00 into Grand Central Station I wasn't expecting my wife and kids to be there but I was surprised to see my neighbour, Mr. Santucci.  He waved at me and was quite excited.

"Timothy, I'm glad you're here," he said.  "Come, I'll take you home.  There's something I need to tell you."

Well, this couldn't be good.  We got out to the street and he flagged a taxi, a taxi, can you believe it?  He gave the address of our building and then sat back. 

"Your wife, Kathleen, she kept a little secret from you since you were last here," he said.  "She didn't mean to.  She meant to tell you in person when you were supposed to be on leave the last time.  I told her she should write about it but she said it was something that should be said in person."

I rolled my eyes.  My leave got cancelled the last time about six months ago after Sarge, Gabe, and I squared off against a few soldiers from the south who took exception to Gabe's presence in our midst.  We all got our leaves cancelled as punishment but the guys from the south got recycled, had to restart their boot camp from day one.  I wondered what could have been so important that Kathleen had to tell me in person and then it hit me.  I looked at Mr. Santucci.  He nodded.

"You have a son," he said.  "Looks just like you, born two months ago.  He'll be a big boy, just like your other two."

I said three Hail Mary's right there in the cab with Mr. Santucci sitting right next to me saying them as well then I looked at him.

"You're not lying to me are you, Mario?" I asked.  "He's my boy?"

"No doubt about it," he replied.  "Your wife is sick with worry that you wouldn't believe her, so I said I would come for you and explain it all.  You know how some women get when they're full of child.  It's like their brain gets all fogged up and they can't think straight."

That did sound like Kathleen.  When she was pregnant with our first she took the subway to Yonkers and didn't know why.  Took her all day to get back.  With our second she went to the grocers and came back with a case of bananas, said it was too good a deal to pass up.  We shared them with everyone on our floor so they didn't go bad but Kathleen did do strange things when she was pregnant.  Until I saw her and the baby I didn't know what I was going to say or do.

Finally, we pulled up in front of the apartment building and I swallowed as I stood there looking up at the front of it.  Three kids in that small apartment.  Mr. Santucci patted me on the back and opened the front door for me.  As I went up the stairs, I was aware of several of the tenants opening their doors after I passed.  Did the whole damned building know?  Finally, I arrived at our door and knocked, as I left my key behind when I went to boot camp.  There was the sound of a baby crying and I almost burst into tears hearing it.  Then the door opened, and I saw my Kathleen standing there, her face fearful but just as beautiful as it had been eleven months before when I last saw her.  Two little shadows rushed out from behind her and grabbed my legs, my older boys, Tim Jr. and Danny.  After kissing them and letting them have their way with me I looked at the babe that Kathleen was holding, and she put him in my arms. 

He was definitely my boy, from the Dugan red hair, to the chubby cheeks and clenched fists that reached for me.  Even if he wasn't my boy I would have loved him because he was so perfect and I loved his mother so much.  When I kissed him she began to cry and I had to put one arm around her.  Mr. Santucci, who had been standing in the doorway smiled and left, closing the door behind him. 

The next ten days passed much too quickly as I played with the boys, helped look after little Liam, as Kathleen had named him after my grandfather, then had tender times with my wife that may or may not have put her in the family way again.  Before I left I made her promise that if she was carrying another baby to write me about it.  Before I left, just after lunch on June 15th I kissed her softly, as tears fell from her green eyes, and I touched her dark hair before enclosing her in my arms.  I kissed all three of my boys and then I carried my duffel bag with me to the train station and got on the train to Brooklyn, where there was a regular bus that ran between the station and the base at Fort Hamilton.  I didn't know then it would be several years until I saw her, our three boys and our daughter Bridget.

After I reported in I was directed to the barracks assigned to our unit.  Sarge was already there going over paperwork.  He took a stack of papers and shoved them across the desk to me.

"Put these in order by date," he said.  "The clerks here have their own system.  I had all the requisitions in, signed by the Lieutenant and everything and they brought them right back to me, date first, then requisition number."

"Hello to you too, Sarge," I said.  "How was your leave?"

"Not long enough," he said.  "Had to date two at a time.  You?"

"I have another child," I said bluntly.  "Kathleen was pregnant from my last leave, wanted to tell me in person but my leave six months ago got cancelled, and she didn't want to put it in a letter."

Sarge howled.  "So, what is it?"

"A boy, Liam, looks just like me.  She might already have another one starting but she promised if she is she would write me."

"How old is the oldest?" he asked.

"Four." 

He howled again.  "You're a cruel man leaving your wife with that many young babies."

"She's a good mother," I said defensively.  "The neighbours are good.  They'll watch out for her.  My mam had me at 17, then three more before she was 21 and she was a good mother."

Sarge just shook his head and grinned.  What did he know?  He was a bachelor and doll dizzy.  Our other corporal, Tommy Malone arrived and Sarge pushed a bunch of requisitions towards him to put into order.  Took us another hour but we finally got them organized like the clerks wanted and Sarge submitted them.  The day our company arrived they would line up at the quartermasters office and receive all their bedding and towels.  The day after they would get their kit, rifle, sleep roll, cooking kit, medical kit, everything we would need when we were finally mustered and ready to be shipped out to our destination.

"Do we have our ship assigned yet?" I asked.

Sarge smiled.  "The Queen Mary," he said.  "They're sending us in style to Scotland, leaving on the 24th.  We'll be training before we go." 

He wouldn't be so happy when we boarded.  They packed over 15,000 troops on that ship plus over 900 crew.  They had beds stacked three high in every part of that floating transport.  Even the officers had to share although they were only two or three to a cabin.  Although it was June the seas were stormy and by the time we arrived in Gourock, Scotland, half the complement were almost dead from sea sickness.  When we disembarked in Scotland, we boarded a troop train that took us from the port, through Glasgow and down to an army base near Manchester.  We had a couple of days there then another sea journey from Liverpool to Algeria where we transferred to another ship that took us to Sicily.  The Mediterranean was calmer but by then most of us were just plain worn out and only barely recuperated when we arrived in mid-July.

We did our best and made good headway when we landed in Sicily in July and took the island just a few weeks later, leading to the ouster of Mussolini.  When the British landed in southern Italy shortly after the Americans landed to the north, hoping to encircle the Germans and fascist Italians that were still loyal to them. 

We chased them to a place called Azzano in northeastern Italy in October 1943.  The fighting was brutal, and we lost the Lieutenant, leaving Sarge in charge.  Surrounded by enemy mortars he ordered Gabe to call in B Company for support.  Before Gabe could do that, we came under attack and the damnedest thing happened.  Suddenly we saw these blue flashes coming out of the dark, hitting the Germans and just ... disintegrating them into thin air.  Within seconds all the Germans were taken out.  We watched as this tank we had never seen the likes of come over a hill, shooting these pulses of blue lights at the German line in the far distance.  In awe, we just stood watching it unfold in front of us then suddenly the tank aimed its cannon at us and began firing.  Taking cover as best we could in the craters left by the mortar blasts we huddled there, hoping to hell that this wasn't to be our last day on Earth.  Then the flashes stopped, and we were surrounded by troops built like machines, dressed in black armour holding these strange rifles on us.

"Aufgeben," yelled the one closest to us and we looked at Gabe.

"They want us to surrender," he said.

Sarge raised his hands.  "Tell them we surrender.  What choice do we have?  We can't fight against those guns."

As we assembled Sarge told me to estimate a head count.  As best I could tell there were well over a hundred of us.  Whether the rest were dead or had escaped from the rear I couldn't tell.  We were marched to an area a couple of miles away and loaded into trucks.  Then we were transported for some time before the trucks were stopped and we were ordered out.  Sarge didn't look well and we closed ranks around him, knowing that a weaker POW could be subjected to cruel punishment by the guards.  They herded us into this building then forced us into an area full of different cells.  They stuck me, Sarge and Gabe in a cell with a Limey officer and a Frenchman.  I made a joke, not a good one, I admit, and the Limey took offence at it.  Well, my people are Irish and I wasn't too fond of the British just because of that and we pushed each other.  I have to admit that he wasn't scared of me, even though I must have outweighed him by 50 pounds, but I still got a few licks in before Sarge ordered me and Gabe to stand down.  The Frenchman said something and Gabe laughed, then answered in French.  It surprised the man and he stood up, offering Gabe his hand.

"I'm Dernier, Jacques Dernier, French resistance," he said, in his heavily accented voice.

Gabe looked to Sarge who nodded his approval and he introduced us.  Then the British officer stood up.

"Major James Montgomery Falsworth," he said.  "3rd Independent Parachute Brigade of the British Army.  My apologies to you Corporal, for being overly sensitive to your joke.  These soldiers are not the usual Nazi vermin we're used to dealing with.  They're worse and they have treated us like cattle.  It has stressed us immensely."

I nodded my acceptance of his apology.  "I'm sorry, sir," I replied.  "We have to work together against these guys, not fight amongst ourselves."

"Where are we?" asked Sarge.

"Somewhere near Kreischberg, Austria,"   replied Falsworth.  "This is a HYDRA facility.  As near as we can tell they were Nazis and now they're worse, looking at Nazis as if they're substandard.  The commanding officer is a sadist named Colonel Lohmer.  Try to avoid his notice.  He has killed several men just for displeasing him."

That was easier said than done when we were forced to begin working the following day.  No work, no food was what we were told.  Sarge, who hadn't been feeling well for some time could barely get up but he did and was assigned a job of moving carts of munitions from one spot to another.  He collapsed while pushing the heavy cart and fell against the munitions, causing some of them to fall.  Lohmer was right there and laid into the Sarge, beating him continually while the man didn't even have the strength to defend himself.  I could feel my hands curl in frustration at witnessing the savagery of the Colonel.  Finally, he stood up, gave a final kick to the Sarge's side and walked away, ordering Lieutenant Kleiber to see to the mess.  Kleiber motioned to me and Gabe to pick Sarge up and take him to the cell.  Gabe examined him as best he could and determined Sarge had broken ribs.  He also had a rattling cough.

"Sounds like pneumonia to me," said Falsworth, standing nearby.  "Kleiber isn't so bad.  He would let your Sergeant recuperate before sending him out to work but Lohmer would just as soon see him die on the work floor.  We need to take Lohmer out and I think I know how."

While we returned to our workstations we looked for a certain substance, it was sticky and if left long enough on a metal surface would weaken it.  The Major, Gabe and I found some, brought it to Dernier and when no one was looking he applied it to the chain attached to a crane carrying bins of scrap to be melted into munitions.  All night that stuff sat on the chains and the guards were none the wiser.  In the morning, Lohmer ordered Sarge to work.  Gabe and I helped him up.  I never knew a man who could tolerate as much pain as Sergeant James Barnes could.  Even though every step was agony for him he refused to show weakness in front of Lohmer.  He loaded scrap metal into a large bin.  When it was full Lieber ordered the crane to lift the bin up.  We all stood back, knowing the chains were weakened.  As the bin rose up high Lohmer walked under its path just as a part of the chain broke, dropping the bin right on top of him.  All of us POWs cheered when the son of a bitch was crushed, then the guards herded us back into our cells.  Again, Gabe and I supported Sarge while he stumbled back.

"You don't have to worry Jimmy boy," I whispered to him.  "Lohmer won't hurt you again."

"Bucky, my name is always Bucky," he mumbled.  "No one calls me Jim, or James."

"Alright, Bucky, we got you," I said, as Gabe and I laid him down on the floor of the cell.

We were there for hours while the guards and Lieutenant Kleiber investigated the "accident" as they finally determined it to be.  When we got our food, Gabe and I took turns feeding the Sarge.  The next day Kleiber agreed that Sarge was too sick to work and he was allowed to stay in the cell.  Even though he rested he seemed to get sicker and sicker over time.  Several days after Lohmer died a scientist showed up, a little guy with glasses.  Apparently he was now in charge.  At least he didn't order any beatings, but there was something about him that gave me chills, especially when he noticed Sarge.  His second day there he showed up at our cell with Kleiber.

"This man, on the floor, why hasn't he been working?" he asked.

"We think pneumonia, plus several broken ribs courtesy of your predecessor," said Major Falsworth.

The scientist turned to Kleiber.  "Why was he not sent to me sooner?" he asked.  "I am a medical doctor as well.  I have treatments for pneumonia.  Bring him to me."

"Yes, Dr. Zola," saluted Kleiber.  "Immediately.  Guards!"

He signalled to several guards and one motioned us back with his gun while the other two took the Sarge between them.  He tried to struggle but there was no strength left in him at all.  I was angry and upset.  Grasping at the bars I yelled at them.

"Don't you kill him, you dirty bastards!"

The doctor, almost out of the room turned back and walked towards me several steps.  What he said chilled me; not just the words but the way he said it.

"I have no intention of killing your Sergeant.  Whether he survives the treatment is up to him.  If it works it will be a new day in science and your Sergeant will never be sick ever again."

With a smile I can only describe as twisted the doctor left with the two guards carrying the Sarge behind him.  For the next few days we heard nothing, except there was another man in charge, an arrogant SOB called Schmidt who upped the production limits for everyone.  Even Kleiber wouldn't say anything about Sarge, and both Falsworth and Dernier shook their heads, saying it was likely that Sarge was dead.  Neither Gabe nor I were going to let his death go unpunished and we talked together about taking on the guards and getting one of those fancy rifles in our hands.  We knew it would likely end up with our deaths and although I was worried about leaving Kathleen a widow with four babies to look after alone (she had written that our last time together had produced another pregnancy) I wanted to die fighting, not as someone's slave.

One night we were sleeping in our cells when the guard on patrol above us suddenly fell over, knocked out.  Some guy, wearing a leather jacket, a toy helmet, and carrying a toy shield took the keys to our cell out of the guard's pocket.

"Who are you?" asked Gabe.

He looked around, shrugged, and said, with a Brooklyn accent, "Captain America."

Then the guy jumped down, proceeded to unlock our cells, and asked about Sergeant James Barnes.  Falsworth told him he was likely in the isolation unit.  The "Captain" told us where the tree line was, to wait there for him, to raise some hell along the way, and he took off towards the unit where Sarge likely was.  We all looked at each other and did what we were told.  We hit them hard, took their weapons, found grenades, found their fancy tanks with the blue flash cannons and gave them hell. 

When we reached the rendezvous point Captain America wasn't there but shortly after the whole factory went up and we wondered if he made it out.  We shouldn't have worried because he showed up with Sarge and we found out that this guy was his best friend from Brooklyn who disobeyed orders to drop behind enemy lines and rescue us.  Cocky little guy, little to me, anyways.  Sergeant Barnes couldn't keep his eyes off of him, as if this guy had undergone some big transformation.  Whatever it was, he had moxie, and there were several of us that kind of liked his style of fighting.  Oh, and Sarge?  I don't know what that Nazi doctor did to him but he was better and his ribs were apparently healed.  It was a miracle, as was our rescue.  For those of us who stuck with Captain America, it was the beginning of some incredible missions.

Part 5>>

Series masterlist

[haaaayjj]

ok so i'm trash and i love the movie august: osage county, so this is gonna be a genderbent-ish aoc request for kit mccoy ( nikolaj coster-waldau ) and i'm gonna go ahead and just put out there that this is probs riddled with triggers, but the main one is suicide, so pls proceed with caution.

the mccoy family is a passionate bunch. with a berserker for a father and a dream demon for a mother, they learned early that if they wanted to be heard, they'd just have to make sure they were louder than the rest. they had a good childhood, even if their parents fought a lot-- but they were high school sweethearts and got married a few weeks after graduation, and their first kid followed soon after... and then it seemed like just didn't stop having kids.

as the years stretched on, kit knew something was going on with his wife; she was distant, moody ( which was usually his thing~ ) and often disappeared at night for hours at a time and would come back only to lock herself in their room for hours on end. turns out she was visiting dark dreams, siphoning the emotions from them, and it became an addiction. but then one night, she just didn't come back-- it took the sheriff four days to recover her body, and just like that, the mccoy family was changed forever.

so basically i need kit's family, both his siblings and his kids. this is a huge request and i'm not sorry about it and although their family history is going to be very similar, most of these characters are totally open! personality, species, coven, etc. are all up to whoever snags them. i've got two brothers and two sisters for kit, and then his six children. it is important to note that his twins are fraternal ( so one boy and one girl ) and the 25 year old must be a boy bc he's linked to another request that i'll be putting up soon~ so you'll have double the plotting! i also don't want him to have all daughters, so there should be at least two, if not three, sons, but where they fall in the birth order ( aside from one of the twins ) is totally up to you.

the sib faces are p set in stone but if you have other ideas, feel free to throw them out there. the kids' faces, on the other hand, are just suggestions; i'd just like them to be blonde and look somewhat like their dad or other sibs.

first generation

---- mccoy, 43 ---- mccoy, 41 ---- mccoy, 38 ---- mccoy, 36

second generation

---- mccoy, 28 reserved for lux ---- mccoy, 26* ---- mccoy, 26* ---- mccoy, 25 ---- mccoy, 23 ---- mccoy, 20

SIBLINGS brothers: alexander skarsgard (43) / ryan gosling (38) sisters: reese witherspoon (41) / jaime king (36)

CHILDREN sons: daniel sharman, austin butler, lucas till, liam hemsworth, colin ford, nolan funk, alex pettyfer daughters: gabriella wilde, skylar samuels, chloe moretz, olivia holt, maddie hasson, teresa palmer

i'm also debating on bringing the mom back as a revenant just for more drama, so if you'd like to know more about her or any of these kiddos, holler at me on discord ( jj#0236 )!

[nerdingz-prompts]

Summer of Whump Day 4

Abandonment?/Escape (but it's b/c of another's self-sacrifice)

CW: Some blood, wound cleaning, and I can't think of any others.

I sprint to the end of the hall. The soldiers will find us soon, and we won’t be able to fight through them. Not like this. I glance around, and just down the hall is an adjacent room.

I quickly dash by, glancing into the room. It's vacant.

"There's a room over here. I think we can hide, catch our breaths." I tell McCoy.

"Right," he huffs out, holding his side. "Lead the way, Maddi."

I lead him around the corner, making sure not to go too far ahead. I hear him groan behind me. I stop and turn around.

"Keep moving." He commands quietly.

I purse my lips and jog to his side. I take his arm and place it over my shoulders, although he’s taller, much taller, we make it work. We walk together to the room, his weight leaning heavier on me than before. I set him gently down in a chair then zoom over to close, lock and barricade the door. With my speed, it’s done in seconds. I slide the nearest desk in front of it as quietly as I can.

"We have to find another way out," I whisper. "The air ducts?"

McCoy huffs a laugh. "This isn't a movie. The ducts in this building are probably way too small or knowingly set to make our lives difficult."

"Right, of course." I nod sheepishly.

I watch as he looks around the room. I try to follow his eyes, find what he's looking for. The room looks like a control center, like one that NASA has, except smaller. There are cabinets lining the walls and many desks with computers on each. At the front is a large screen displaying a classic "intruder alert" message. His eyes linger on the screen for a moment then follow the line of metal cabinets. He catches my glance and smiles.

"Look in the cabinets. There should be a medical kit somewhere."

I nod quickly and zoom around the room. Discarded papers fly from the cabinets and desks. I pull open the metal doors as quickly as I can, scanning each for any sign of a medical kit. Finally, in the last cabinet, I snag the medkit and within a second I'm standing in front of McCoy.

"Alright. I'm going to need you to take a breath and calm down." He says, turning in the chair.

I nod and take a deep inhale, then exhale. But it's all for not when he pulls up the blood-stained side of his shirt to reveal the wound that's been tolling him. I suck in sharply.

"I need you to help me clean it up and then you have to-"

"No," I interrupt him before he can say it. "I- I can't- I've never done anything like that!"

He smiles calmly. "Hey, sh, we're hiding, remember?"

"McCoy, I can't do that." I insist.

"Open the kit. There should be a bottle and some gauze. I'll help you with this part, okay?"

"O-okay."

I do as McCoy instructs. And he helps me through each step.

"Now," he says, lifting his shirt again and leaning to expose the wound, "dab around the edges and then place a clean one on top. Don't stop when I try to pull away."

He smiles gently at my suddenly worried expression. I do as he says, tapping the edge gently. He winces and grips the arm of the chair. But it's when I place clean gauze on top that he jerks.

"Okay," he says, placing his hand over the gauze, holding it in place. "I need you to prep the needle and thread now."

I quickly get the needle and thread. I thread the needle just like Gran had taught me, and for a moment my hands are steady. I disinfect the needle and hold it to him.

He sighs and shifts in the chair. "I need you to do it. I can't-"

"I can't, McCoy." I say.

"Yes you can, I watched you thread that needle, you have steady hands. You'd be better and faster than me, I mean look, I'm shaking like a leaf." He holds his shaking hand in front of me for emphasis. How is he staying so upbeat about this?

"But this is nothing like fixing clothes and making designs."

He grits his teeth and his breathing suddenly sounds more labored. "It can be, just picture it. Don't think about it as me and my skin, if it helps." He sighs at my hesitation and I see his patience running thin. "We're running out of time, they'll clear this floor any minute now."

I purse my lips and nod once. McCoy smiles softly and slowly he removes the gauze.

"Start here," he points, moving so that the wound is easier to pull together, "and work your way up. I'll do my best to stay still. Whatever you can manage is better than nothing, okay?"

I nod again, unable to tear my eyes away from where I'm supposed to prick him. I place the needle against his skin, he shifts at the touch, and his whole body tenses.

I push the needle in and McCoy's hand immediately clamps over his mouth. He sucks in sharply. "Pull the needle through quickly, going too slow only makes it worse," he whispers through gritted teeth, his voice deeper, pain-filled.

"Right," I say. "Sorry." I quickly pull the needle through and he hisses.

I push and pull through the opposite side. I don't look up at McCoy's face, I don't think I could manage to see such a pained expression on him.

I continue with the needle. The tighter I draw the thread, the more audible McCoy's pain becomes. But he hums instead of groaning aloud.

I pull the needle through again, and again, until suddenly, footsteps thunder past. I feel my own face pale and I look up to McCoy.

"Don't. Stop." He whispers sternly, the pain still evident in his voice. There's a new focus to his expression though, the tears in his eyes seem to evaporate, only the redness of them would tell he'd cried.

I refocus on my job. I pull the needle through, desperately trying to ignore the commotion outside.

"Fuck." McCoy finally whispers though I'm not sure if it's because of the pain or our rapidly changing circumstances.

I take the scissors, as I cut the string, banging on the door finally starts. I look up at McCoy with wide eyes. He keeps his face steady, and somehow I mirror his calm.

"Hand me the gauze, I'll finish. Look around for anything I can use as a weapon."

I do as he says. I look under tables, in the other cabinets, and in the desk. In one drawer there's a pistol and its magazine. I run them both over to McCoy.

He’s finished now and is wrapping his abdomen in the gauze. I set down the gun and help him secure it.

"Thank you, Maddi, for everything. When those doors open you wait for an opening and you run, you get out. Find Jaylyn, remember the safehouse I told you about? She should be there. Don't look back, don’t look back for anything."

I nod and stand where he tells me, crouched behind a desk hidden from the view of the door. I watch as McCoy pushes aside the desks and stands at the center of the room.

There's a moment, and I question if they've moved on, but then the door swings open.

"There you are," the young man at the front says. "Where's your new friend?"

"She's gone," McCoy snaps back.

"Of course." The man snaps his figures and the goons behind him start moving. They grab McCoy roughly and he hisses in pain.

"Sir. He's injured," one of the men reports.

"So? Take him to position beta, have them deal with him there."

The leader steps further into the room, and then I see it, my opening. But I hesitate, I watch as they begin to cuff McCoy. He's sacrificing himself? For me? I suddenly feel angry with McCoy, why wouldn't he try to escape?

"So where's your friend? Really?" The leader asks.

"Right here," McCoy says, whipping the pistol out of his pants and shooting one of the men in the foot and another in the knee. They shout in pain, but before McCoy can aim the gun, the other man and the leader dive behind tables.

McCoy keeps his gun aimed towards them as he takes his own cover behind a desk.

"I've got one for you too, Theamus! Come on!" McCoy shouts.

"I've got more than just a bullet waiting for you, McCoy! I'd love to show you!" 'Theamus' answers.

"Eat shit you sadistic bastard." McCoy fires the gun. The screen at the end of the room shatters and sparks fly, sending the room into further chaos.

"Run, Kid! Get out of here!" I hear McCoy shout.

And as if by themselves, my legs carry me out the door, back into the adjacent hall. There's no more commotion as I sprint down the barren building, already evacuated during the explosion. And just like the building, my mind feels empty. All of the adrenaline and my own stupid fear making me run on autopilot.

I run through giant doors into the bright light of day, and still, I don't stop running. I run through the streets as if I'd lived here my whole life. The safe house isn't far now, all I have to do is run.

[Hi, I did another. This one has my speedster bby, Maddi, along with the Team's co-leader McCoy, and big bad that I hate very much, Theamus. And Grammarly is telling me that there are 35 premium mistakes in this biotch but I really have no shame.]

[hailbop1701]

Chapter Five: Check Your Misery At The Door...

Hey everyone! Chapter five is finally here and this one has a bit more angst in it. I wanted to try and delve a bit deeper into how Bones/Reaper feels and how he deals with the crew. Please tell me what you think! And once again thank you @dw-writes for being an amazing friend and beta! I would be lost and fumbling without you my dear! Cause I royally suck at editing and keeping my tenses straight.

-H❤🖖

The hard metal door was like puddy in Reaper’s hands as he yanked it off its frame. His adrenaline was still pumping from his fight with the Hell Knights and his need to protect his friends at the forefront of his mind gave him a dangerous boost. Panting, he pushed into the room, his eyes immediately adjusting to the darkness.

Looking around, he spotted Beckworth pulling ensign Bitar to her feet. She was in hysterics. John gave them a quick once over before moving further into the room looking for Chekov, Kirk, and Lawrence. The sound of grunting made him turn. Pavel was in the corner, trying to lift a heavy shelving unit. John was by his side in seconds.

“The Keptin..” the young navigator panted as he tried to lift the shelves again.

“Jim!” Reaper called out as he gently pushed Chekov to the side. He only relaxed as a muffled, pissed-off, “I’m fine, Bones, Get to Lawrence!” reached his ears. With one heave, the shelf was lifted and pushed back up-right again. Jim Kirk groaned and got to his feet with a wince. John moved to check on him but finally, the smell of charred, burned, dead flesh reached his nose. Something in his stomach dropped. Kirk’s “help Lawrence” was clear now. But he already knew there was no helping the security ensign.

Looking at Jim, John saw the angry pained expression on the captain’s face. Jim hated losing crewmen. Glaring up at a camera, Reaper picked his way through the melted obliterated mess of the supply room. Pushing aside small charred bodies, John quickly figured out what had happened.

Somehow, Lawrence was cornered by Veera’s newest creations, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it out. He set his phaser to overload, taking out as many as he could, knowing that the shelves would block the others from the brunt of the blast. Kneeling down next to the ensign, John pulled his melted deformed Starfleet insignia from his kit and pocketed it. Looking at the demons on the ground, Reaper couldn’t help but feel slightly nauseated. They were all small, and young, and had once been full of promise and joy. Now, they were burnt dead husks. That was how they got him. Children were now monsters.

Though John did have some clue of their existence, he wasn’t entirely sure. Those small footprints could have been caused by anything. Shaking his head, the ex-marine examined his surroundings.

Bingo.

On the far wall to his right was a vent, blackened due to the explosion. It looked as if it had been torn open. Blood dripped from the metal grate onto the dark floor. Some survived.

‘How intelligent were they?’ John wondered as he got back to his feet.

Making his way back over to the team, John handed Jim the ensigns badge. Kirk swallowed and nodded, taking the small object, only looking at it briefly before sticking it in his pocket. “We need to keep moving,” John said quietly, his eyes landing on each of the remaining members of the away team.

Jim clenched his jaw and led the group out.

Beckworth gave John a sharp nod in respect before following his captain back out into the fire.

Bitar sniffed, clenching her hands into fists and squeezing her eyes shut, hoping to stop the oncoming tears. She took several deep steadying breaths, and then she too left the room.

Only two were left standing in the dark. Pavel kicked away a broken tricorder, a deep, sad, and angry frown on his face.

Sighing, John ran a hand through his shortened hair, “I’m sorry Pavel. I know Gabe was a friend of yours.”

The kid looked up at Reaper and shook his head, and said with conviction “It’s not your fault.” before stalking out of the room.

John stood there alone in the dark and silence, letting Chekov’s words wash over him. He wanted to believe the kid, he really, really did, but something kept stopping him. A little voice in the back of his mind kept whispering how it was his fault, how if he had done a better job of getting rid of the UAC and C-24, they wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. Shaking his head, John strode out of the dark and into the messy, painfully bright corridor where the others waited for him.

He could doubt and hate himself later. He needed to get the others off of Genesis and back onto the Enterprise. In one swift movement, John picked up his old rifle and moved ahead of the group once more. They were getting close to the signal and John Grimm was already dreading what he’ll find. He knew it wasn’t going to be good.

Stepping over the bodies of the Hell Knights and the other infected, Reaper felt Jim move so he was shoulder to shoulder with him. “What’s on your mind, Bones? You got that weird crease going on between your eyes.”

John looked at Kirk and saw that the kid was trying to make him feel better. He let out a dry humorless chuckle, which only made Jim nudge him. “A lot is on my mind, Jim. You gotta be more specific.”

Kirk chewed on his lip and looked down at the heavy phaser rifle in his hands. ‘Like it’s doing me any good.’ the captain thought sourly. Humming, Jim thought about his words carefully, “You know the person who sent out the signal,” he stated, avoiding the topic of Lawrence and the obvious guilt Kirk knew his best friend was feeling. Though the man walking next to him was different from the man he met on the academy shuttle all those years ago. Jim looked at “Reaper” harder.

If he cocked his head to the side and squinted, he could still see his “Bones”. Kind-hearted, growly, piss and vinegar “Bones”. This man, “Reaper” was just an old, steely, tired version of the man he knew to be his friend. So, Jim, after a lot of thought, accepted him. He almost wanted to giggle, “My best friend is a two-hundred give or take a decade-year-old badass that fights monsters.”

“Jim you’re staring and it’s creepin’ me out. And if you’re back with me- yes I know who sent the signal out.”

Kirk shot Reaper a sad crooked smile. “Sorry I was just thinking that the old man jokes are gonna be a little too accurate.” he chuckled ruefully.

John snorted, rolling his eyes, “Like that would ever stop you.” A couple of well-covered snorts made him glance over his shoulder at Beckworth and Chekov. “Children the lot of ya,” he growled good-naturedly.

Beckworth smirked, “Well, if you want to get technical…”

John scoffed, and was about to retort, but his eyes landed on ensign Bitar at the back of the group, and he fell silent. Her face was stony, arms crossed, and away from everyone. She was closing herself off. Trying to stay emotionless, keeping everyone at arm’s length. Something he was all too familiar with. In his mind, Leonard McCoy was pounding on the walls of his mind, screaming obscenities at him. “Help her damnit! She won’t survive if you don’t!”

“Pavel how much further until we reach-” John didn’t even have to finish.

Chekov looked down at his PADD and pointed to a set of double sliding doors ahead. They were high-security clearance and locked down tight.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Chekov, help me get this door open,” Jim said, shouldering his rifle onto his back. The Russain quickly followed, leaving Beckworth, Bitar, and John to guard them.

Letting out a heavy sigh Reaper jerked his head, signaling Beckworth to watch over Kirk and Chekov as they worked. Receiving the silent order, Beckworth gave John a nod and a grunted: “See if you can get through to her.”

John slowly made his way over to ensign Bitar, making sure his presence was known. She was glaring heatedly at the ground, making a point to not look up at him. “Lyla,” John urged, bending slightly so he could catch her eyes. The young woman shifted so she was standing straight-backed and looking ahead. The image of a perfect officer. In all honesty, it made him sad, not just the Leonard McCoy part of him, but the John Grimm part as well. ‘They shouldn’t have to face my past’

“Lieutenant Commander,” Bitar acknowledged crisply. John let out a little breath, he nodded in understanding. Looking down at his feet, John let McCoy come back through, they trusted him. Not John.

“I’m sorry about Gabe, Lyla. I know the two of you were close,” he whispered gently. Lyla clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, or possibly from committing insubordination. She shook her head and glared at John with tired eyes. Accusing.

“He was a good officer. A better friend, and he-” she cut herself off by choking back a sob. Inside John was warring with himself. On one side he wanted to be the soldier he once was, tell her to pull back her shoulders and move on. But on the other side was McCoy, shouting and screaming at him to “Be a fucking human being for once and give the girl some slack,”

Chewing on his bottom lip, John averted his eyes, giving the ensign a moment to collect herself. Once she quickly wiped her eyes and nose, John moved so he stood in front of her blocking everyone on the away team from her.

Lowering his voice, he whispered, “Gabe was on his way to great things. Someone to be proud of and to look up to. I’ve seen...it all happen before. A kid in a situation that he shouldn’t have been put in, in the first place. Doing the right thing and getting killed for it. And I won’t be able to stop seeing it. Over, and over, and over again. Lyla, I know I can’t make things better, and I can’t just pretend that things will be alright once this is all over.....None of this will happen to anyone else ever again. You can have my word on that, even if you no longer trust me.”

Ensign Bitar must have seen something in Reaper’s eyes because her own softened. She nodded, and she couldn’t help but feel sad for the ship’s CMO. He had, no matter what, always been there for every member of the crew. She was raw, mad at everything. She had lost a close friend and she had to point fingers. He was the closest target. Someone who had lied for years about who he was, what he was. The trust that Doctor Leonard McCoy had so carefully crafted over the many adventures the Enterprise had crumbled away like dust. Lyla knew she wasn’t the only one. The away team, and whoever was watching, wanted answers. Better than the ones he was offering.

She saw it. In the Captain’s eyes, in Pavel’s, and Beckworth’s. Hurt, confusion, anger, and betrayal. She knew that McCoy, or whoever he was, was well aware of it all, even if he tried to hide it, it weighed on him. And at that moment, the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know to trust him again. Even if it was only a fraction of what it used to be.

He felt what they were feeling, but maybe even more. Years upon years of pain, loneliness, and a hidden rage against the universe. It hurt him to hurt them. But, he was willing to suffer for them anyway.

Reaper. That’s what the file said. The stories were always horrible...about Grim Reapers but everyone seemed to have forgotten that they were angels, too.

Lyla gave John a small sad smile, remembering the advice he told her when she transferred onto the ship after Khan destroyed the city. Her family. She remembered being so angry all the time. A burning rage never going out.

He took one look at her and said with a knowing look, “Check your misery at the door. Keep it out. Otherwise, it will keep coming back to steal your soul.”

Lyla took a deep breath, and let the pain out. Gabe, she realized, wouldn’t want her to point fingers or be angry. He would want her to get the hell out of there alive. So, she reached out a hand and placed it on John’s arm, giving it a squeeze. She wasn’t sure if it was for her reassurance, or his.

“Check your misery at the door Doctor,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

The man stiffened ever so slightly before his shoulders dropped in defeat. “I thought I was supposed to make you feel better,” he muttered and the ensign simply shrugged, letting her hand fall back to her side.

“We’re all in this fight together. Gabe knew that, that’s why he...saved us. Made sure we got a chance and...I know that’s what you’re trying to do. Give us a chance. I don’t know if it will heal anything, but it could be a start.” With those final words ensign, Bitar strode away over to her C.O. her shoulders back, and her head held up high. She was ready for another round.

“We’re in!” Chekov called out triumphantly, and waved over the rest of the group to where he and Jim were working. Rushing over, John watched as Jim entered a passcode into the keypad to the right of the door. After a breath, they watched as the classified research lab opened up before them.

Pavel let out a quiet gasp of horror and John, in one swift movement, pulled his rifle from his back. Jim let out a string of Klingon curses. John swallowed, taking in the scene; blood of many colors coated the area; bodies lay strewn about haphazardly, all in different stages of decay.

Keeping everyone back, John entered first. He scanned the lab looking for any signs of danger, but it was clear. The dread in the pit of his stomach became bile in his throat, burning, wanting to come out. John stood stock still, his eyes boring into one dead body in particular.

From a medical point of view. A distanced point of view. He could tell the person was female, petite, her once chestnut hair coated in blood and grime. Her eyes were no longer green but a sightless grey. A familiar young woman whom he watched from a distance grow up. He always kept away from what family he had left but they did their damnedest to keep in touch with him. Even if he never really answers.

“Bones?”

Kirk’s voice jolted him back to the present. Clenching his jaw, Reaper stepped over various people to get to her. Looking at her more closely, he spotted the phaser on the floor just under one of her limp hands. Refusing to show anything, or even look away, John gently closed her eyes. His gaze moved to another object sitting in her lap. A PADD with a bloody picture was nestled in her lap.

The picture was a reprint but still managed to punch him in the gut all the same. It was of him holding a baby, a small rare smile gracing his face. John picked it up with a forced steady hand, remembering that day clearly in the back of his mind. It was the day his nephew had been born, of course, the picture had been taken before Sam had told him that they named the baby John.

After that, he was all half-hearted scowls and glares. The girl who sat as an empty husk before him was his nephew’s great-great-great-great granddaughter. Well, one of them at least. She was family and she was here because of him.

Jim stood silently by his side, unsure of what to say or do. “You knew her,” he whispered finally.

John looked over at his best friend and nodded. “She’s my niece.”

The words hung in the air like the smell of rot and burned flesh. John’s hand ghosted over the girl’s cheek as he reached for the PADD sitting in her lap. Jim carefully took hold of her Starfeel badge and gave a gentle tug until it came free with a snap. The name “Lieutenant Layla Grimm” engraved on the back. John turned away his attention down at the device in his hands rather than the death around him and forced his mind to focus.

Jim felt his heart crack and break for his friend. Pocketing the badge, Jim moved away from most of the bloody carnage over to Chekov, who was busy trying to get into the computer system. “Talk to me Chekov, what do you got?”

The navigator didn’t bother glancing up from his work. “It’s a mess, keptin. The jammer that is keeping us from the Enterprise is located on the main bridge of the station. I can tell this because there is more interference in this section...and that’s what I would do sir. The bridge is the hardest place to get to.”

Jim nodded in agreement, “So we have to make our way through a swarm of flesh-eating monsters to get to our goal. Great. Got a route planned out?”

Chekov grimaced but nodded all the same. “I do but it’s dangerous,”

Kirk sighed, his head rolling to the side, a look of exasperation on his face. “When is it not?” he asked rhetorically. Chekov looked past Kirk at McCoy - or Grimm - and shifted nervously, once again getting Jim’s attention. Following the ensign’s gaze, Jim sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I also found this,” Pavel whispered, holding up a black drive. It was sleek and splashed with blood but appeared to be in working order. Taking it, Jim turned it in his hands and froze. He understood why Chekov was hesitant. There was a single word engraved on the drive. Not a word but a name.

Reaper.

Swallowing, Kirk looked at Pavel, nodding, he slipped the drive into his back pocket. Out of the hands of anyone else. Whatever was on it was safe with him.

“Jim!”

Whipping around at the sound of his name, Kirk spotted Bones at another terminal. His posture was stiff, jaw tight, and hands clenched into fists. John Grimm was anything but calm. Rushing to his side, Jim finally saw what had his friend tense and more pissed off than usual.

There, grinning wickedly and seductively on the screen, was Veera. When Jim entered her view she gave a little pout, but continued on talking,

“ - as I was saying, congratulations on getting to one of the research labs. Your...what did you call her John? Your niece? Oh, she did well, you should be proud of what she accomplished in a short amount of time! Fought bravely and all that...tragic death though. I wouldn’t have gone out that way but to each his own I guess…”

Kirk placed a calming hand on John’s arm as he gripped the desk. The metal twisting like puddy under his hands. “Either get to the point or fuck off,” he growled out eyes narrowing.

Veera chuckled, sitting up, she stretched, making sure Reaper got an eye full of cleavage before she settled again. Her white smile was more like a predator baring her teeth rather than something charming, John wasn’t amused.

Veera tapped a command into her velvet-covered chair and looked at them with a twisted smirk. The screens around them lit up each one showing part of John’s old lives. Some had pictures, some had rough sketches of a man with his face covered in shadows.

John, of course, kept his face blank but he felt his heart begin to race and mouth dry up. Jim wasn’t so quick to cover up his shock, curiosity, and horror. Veera practically purred at the sight.

“Section 31 and the organizations before it have been trying to keep an eye on you for quite some time. Little Miss Grimm did a wonderful job trying to make it disappear. She joined Starfleet, worked her way up, and managed to get her foot into 31 just before Marcus fell. She kept her head down and has been covering for you since then. She was so close to her ultimate goal in protecting her Uncle John.” Veera gave a mock pout, but it easily melted into a grin. She pulled a PADD from her seat, flicking through it she hummed and clicked her tongue. “Shame she failed. This is juicy stuff, John. Were you really a police officer? Where do you keep the andr-”

Veera’s face was suddenly gone in a flash of sparks and shattered glass. Jim jumped back in surprise, a cry of concern dying on his lips as he watched his best friend turned mystery examined his glass-covered fist with disinterest and a scowl.

“Doctor!” Jim didn’t have to voice his concerns because Chekov did it for him. The navigator was watching John’s hand with wide eyes.

As John picked and plucked the glass from his hand with a grumble as Jim and Pavel watched the skin heal almost instantly.

“You were a cop?” Jim asked, cocking his head to the side.

Reaper grimaced, “detective,” he muttered, glancing over at the monitor that held his record. Jim followed his gaze and pressed his lips into a thin line in order to keep his curiosity at bay. John rolled his eyes at the captain, “We’ll talk about it later.”

“McCoy, Captain!” Bitar called from across the room. The three men turned to see Lyla jerk her head in Beckworth’s direction. The security officer was hunched over a terminal, cursing up and down.

Pulling out the last piece of glass from his hand, John flicked it away before moving over to Beckworth. “Henry.”

The man in question looked up and indicated to the screen “We have a problem,”

“You mean bigger than the one we’re already dealing with?” Reaper asked with a raised eyebrow. With a sigh, John tapped at the screen bringing up a bigger picture of what Beckworth was looking at. Security footage of the medical facility was on the screen and he really didn’t like what he was looking at.

Men and women stalked through the mall with purpose. Their formation was tight and professional, and their shirts glowed light blue in the dim emergency lighting. “That’s not good,” he muttered. Zooming in, John memorized each of their faces and noted that they were all covered in blood. Some of it was fresh. Too fresh for it to be from someone infected.

Veera’s laugh echoed through the station. The group of Section 31 agents tensed and paused, their phaser rifles pointing every which way as they tried to pin down where the voice was coming from.

“A little bit of a surprise for you John. Just a little something to keep things interesting. You see, I gave team Delta an incentive. If they take you and yours down before you get to the bridge then they get to leave. Free and clear and whole.”

“Shit, fucking damnit!” Reaper cursed. Whipping around, he looked at Chekov pleadingly. Without having to say a word, Paval ran to the main terminal and began typing feverishly.

“I want it all gone, Chekov! We can’t leave any of this here. Bones, what’s the plan here?”

Reaper looked over at Kirk and Beckworth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bitar running around to each screen doing as Chekov instructed. Both were trying to keep his past right where it was supposed to be. In the past.

His mind ran a mile a second. Coming up with plans wasn’t exactly his forte, even after all this time. Sighing, he closed his eyes, thinking about the layout of the medical center; he had to assume that they would most likely come from two different directions. To box them in.

“We need to go. Get to the biggest part of the station. The mall will be the best place for us to either lose them or…” he trailed off letting both Jim and Henry fill in the blanks themselves.

Jim grumbled at the prospect of taking out the team of agents but at that point, there wasn’t exactly much of a choice.

“Chekov!”

“Da, it is ready. Doctor…” Pavel looked up at John with a small smile as he stepped away from the terminal. Stepping forward John saw that the kid had gathered every file Starfleet had on him, a box blinked on the screen asking if he wished to delete the information. “You do the honors, doctor,” Chekov whispered. Swallowing hard, John hit the “Yes” command and watched as Chekov’s virus washed away everything.

Nodding, the navigator gathered his things before looking up. “That was a mere copy of the files. No one should be able to get them from here ever again. Veera has another, but that should be easy to get rid of if we get her PADD...but the main file is-” Pavel looked down, almost ashamed with himself. “On a server. I don’t know where it is exactly but I do have a name…it’s at a location named: Ares.”

John placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you for what you did, even if it was just a piece.”

Letting his hand fall he moved to the blast door where Jim and the others waited patiently. Jim gave John a nod and opened the door. Moving ahead of the group, John raised his rifle and took back his misery.

He has never been one to take his own advice.

Tags:

Everything: @thottiewithashotgun, @lauraaan182, @chickadee-djarin, @stileslover13-blog, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234, @sayuri9908

Hollow Castle: @chook007, @lauranthalasah, @startrekkingaroundasgard

[putthison]

eBay Roundup

We spend hours trawling for the best of menswear on eBay so that you don’t have to. To get a third eBay roundup each week, along with a list of the best sales, subscribe to our exclusive Inside Track newsletter. It only costs $5 a month. The savings you’d earn from just one eBay purchase a year will offset the subscription.

There are some really nice finds today in the footwear section. Alden’s tassel loafers could be a nice addition to your spring wardrobe, Carmina’s single strap monks are a good way to add a bit of visual interest to a sport coat outfit, and these black Crockett & Jones boots would do well with blue jeans and olive field jackets. 

To find more menswear on eBay, try using our customized search links. We’ve made them so you can quickly hone-in on quality suits, excellent dress shirts, fine footwear, good jeans, workwear, contemporary casualwear, nice ties, great bags, and well-made sweaters.

Outerwear

Red Margaret Howell field jacket, XS

Olive Ten C field jacket, 36

Black coated APC field jacket, S

Real McCoys M51 fishtail parka, S

AMI burgundy leather bomber jacket, M

Black Ten C MA-1 bomber jacket, 40

Camoshita olive wool wrap coat, 40

Olive Buzz Rickson M-43 field jacket, 40

Red Engineered Garments CPO shirt jacket, L

Gray checked wool Mackintosh coat, 44

Black Sandro double rider, XL

Sweaters and knits

Cream colored Canadian Sweater Company cowichan, XS

Orange cashmere Margaret Howell sweater, 38

Olive Kapital Ring jacket, S

Fuzzy brown Acne Studios mohair sweater, M

Oatmeal cabled Cucinelli sweater, 40

Blue Fair Isle Cucinelli cardigan, 40

Cream cabled Inis Meain cardigan, M

Olive Our Legacy textured sweater, 40

Vintage Polo Sportsman Shetland, L

Gray Carroll & Co shawl collar cardigan, 42

Gray cashmere Margaret Howell sweater, XL

Navy textured SNS Herning Stark cardigan, XL

Chunky McGeorge shawl collar cardigan, 44

Burgundy chunky shawl collar Howlin cardigan, XL

Shirts and pants

Burgundy herringbone Luciano Barbera flannel shirt, M

Brown checked Orslow flannel shirt, L

Shoes

Loake suede chukkas, 6

Tricker’s cap toe boots, 7.5

Carmina austerity brogues, 8

Paraboot hiking boots, 8

Alden tassel loafers, 8 (pictured above)

Edward Green suede shortwings, 8.5

St Crispin’s semi brogues, 8.5

Crockett & Jones black cap toe boots, 8.5 (pictured above)

Meccariello black perf toe oxfords, 8.5

Meccariello perf toe bluchers, 8.5

Carmina tan suede Chelsea boots, 9

Crockett & Jones suede chukkas, 9

Margiela black side zip boots, 9

Loake suede chukkas, 9

Tricker’s black boots, 9.5

Crockett & Jones cap toe boots, 9.5

Viberg suede service boots, 10

Ralph Lauren shell cordovan shortwings, 10E

Truman Boot Co cap toe service boots, 10

Our Legacy side zip boots, 10.5

Chippewa black work boots, 11

Carmina quarter brogues, 11

Quoddy Telos chukkas, 11

Crockett & Jones black cap toe oxfords, 12

Carmina single monks, 11.5 (pictured above)

Quoddy moccasins, 13

Ties

Some nice Brioni and Gieves & Hawkes ties

Gray Eidos floral tie

Brown wool Tie Your Tie striped tie

Gray Ralph Lauren silk knit tie

J. Press madras tie

Brown knitted Tom Ford tie

Some nice knit ties

Dark green E. Marinella floral tie

Navy Sulka dressing gown

Holland & Holland navy doggo motif tie

Navy Battistoni tree motif tie

Brown wool Panta tie

Brown Rubinacci foulard tie

Blue striped Drake's grenadine tie

Navy striped J. Press tie

Misc.

Some Begg scarves

Bunch of Drake's pocket squares

Green Pineider leather dopp kit

Rimowa aluminum carry-on luggage

Wispy cashmere Begg scarf (very lightweight)

Bunch of pocket squares

Drake's tiger motif scarf

Leather dress gloves (7.5, 8, L)

If you want access to an extra roundup every week, exclusive to members, join Put This On's Inside Track for just five bucks a month.

[kaitymccoy123]

Sing It To Me

Intro: So this was requested by the lovely @eenterprise!  Thank you so much!  This was so fun to write!

-I was wondering if you could do a piece about BonesxReader where the reader gets a weird disease where they keep singing everything they are saying and everyone thinks it’s really funny but Bones keeps trying to act annoyed but really he thinks it super cute. 

Pairing: Bones x reader (but like not reallyish)

Word Count: 1884

Triggers: None, lots of hiccupping and fluff, bad music puns at the end

Summary: See request above, that’s exactly what it is.  Just fluff!

-Enjoy!-

The hiccuping had started around dinnertime, which you assumed was normal, until you went to bed, still hiccuping.  It kept you up all night and seemed to get worse as the early hours of the morning dawned.  

You tossed and turned until finally you had enough.  Pulling on regular clothes you strode purposefully down the hall, arms swinging, probably looking like a crazy person as every other step you took you let out a high-pitched hiccup.  

Reaching the medbay you stomped in, the floor quiet except for a few nurses milling around. 

"Do you - hicc! - know where Dr. - hicc! - McCoy is?" You asked to one of the nurses who approached you.  

"In his office, I believe." She responded, giving you a weird look.  

"Thank - hicc! - you." You rolled your eyes at yourself as the hiccups interrupted everything you were saying.  

You walked over to Bones' office door and knocked, though you were sure you didn't need to as he could probably hear your hiccups echoing through the door. 

"Come in." You heard faintly and swung the door open.  

You must have looked crazy, standing in the doorway, hair a mess from being up all night, shirt buttoned up wrong, hands on your hips, hiccuping.  

"Y/N?  What are you doing up so early?" Bones raised an eyebrow and looked slightly amused at your distressed appearance. 

"I - hicc! - have had the hicc - hicc! - ups since last night and they d - hicc! - on't seem to be going away - hicc!" You explained quickly, trying to get words in in between hiccups but failing miserably. 

"So you decided that 4:30 in the morning was the right time to come in?" Bones grumbled but got up from his desk and strode over to you. 

"I can't sleep." You spat out quickly before you could hiccup. 

"Alright then, let's check you out." Bones took you by your elbow into the medbay and sat you down on an exam table.  

He examined the inside of your throat, asked you a bunch of questions, and listened to your lungs. 

"Well I can't see anything immediately wrong but I can give you something to help you sleep and hopefully the hiccups will be gone tomorrow." Bones shrugged as he put his equipment away. 

You were disappointed with the outcome, but you agreed with him, maybe it was just the hiccups.  So you took the sleep-aid and slunked home.  

The sleep-aid knocked you out for a few hours, but you were awoken by a nasty bout of cough-hiccuping, your throat feeling sore and tingly when you could finally breathe again.  

You knew you should probably go back and see Bones, but you didn't want to bother him again after you had just visited him.  So you decided to stick it out and got ready for work.  

Throughout the day your throat kept feeling weirder and weirder, like every time you hiccuped your throat would rumble, as if in a hum.  You worked on the bridge as a navigation technician, and thankfully your job didn't involve too much talking.  Over time the hiccups began to fade, but it left your throat feeling swollen and sore, and your voice began to become raspy. 

Unfortunately your vow of silence didn't last long as you heard Captain Kirk talking to Scotty about sending Ensign Chekov down to the engineering room to help, and you knew you were his replacement. 

"Lieutenant Y/N, will you replace Mr. Chekov for a while so he can go help Scotty in the engineering room?" Kirk asked, and you pressed your eyes shut in frustration before getting up from your seat and taking Chekov's.  

Now suddenly every breath you took felt and sounded like a hum, and you were very self-conscious about other people hearing.  

"Lieutenant Y/N, what are our coordinates?" Kirk asked and you checked the screen in front of you. 

"500 mark 3, captain." You squeaked, your voice barely audible as you wheezed.  

You felt Pilot Sulu's eyes flick to you in confusion and you could tell Captain Kirk was staring at the back of your head. 

"Are you alright, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked. 

You cleared your throat, which sounded more like a trill, and responded, "Yes."

You immediately slapped your hands over your mouth.  The word had come out of your mouth as if you had sung it, one melodic tone of 'yes'. 

Sulu turned his head to look at you now, amusement sparkling in his eyes.  

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, what was that?" Kirk asked again and your cheeks burned in embarrassment. 

You gulped, the action stinging your throat, and you removed your hands from your mouth tentatively.  

"I'm fine." The syllables flew out of your mouth in a high tune, and now the entire bridge swiveled their chairs to look at you.  

You heard Kirk get up from his captain's chair and walk over to you.  When he stopped in front of your console, resting his arms on top of it, he spoke, "Are you singing?"

You shook your head, "I'm not trying to, sir." You sung unintentionally, and you looked up at him desperately.  

Kirk regarded you with a straight face for a moment, before bursting into laughter.  Your eyes widened at his mocking, and slightly unprofessional, behaviour and your head fell into your hands.  

"No keep talking... I mean singing... hahaha!" Kirk sputtered. 

You shook your head furiously, pressing your fingers over your mouth lest words begin to escape.  

"OH come on, Y/N, sing it to me!!" Kirk encouraged and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his beaming face and toothy grin. 

"Fine!" You sang, and cleared your throat painfully before continuing, "I don't know why you find this so funny, Captain, there is something wrong with my voice."

The words came out as if you were singing along to inaudible music, the syllables flowing from your mouth at different speeds and different pitches to match the tune.  

Kirk began to roar in laughter again, and you heard scattered chuckles around the bridge.  Now you began to laugh as well, your laughter high and tinkling due to whatever was wrong with your throat, which made you and the crew laugh even harder.  

You didn't even see Kirk on his com until you heard the words, "Bones, you have to come down and see this."

"NO, Captain Kirk, I can go down to the medbay." You trilled and rose from your chair. 

"No way, Lieutenant, you are staying here, this is too damn funny."

You crossed your arms and sat back down in your chair, hard, sulking and pouting at the Captain.  

Sooner than you would have liked Bones came through the lift doors, a black med-kit in his hand.  Kirk greeted him by patting him on the shoulder and saying a few words to him, both their eyes flicking to you.  Your cheeks flamed again and you sat low in your chair, wishing you could disappear.  Bones didn't smile, just looked at you curiously, and Kirk was jumping around like a kid who had too much sugar and he came over and smacked the console in front of you with two hands.

"Sing, Lieutenant, SING!" He demanded cheerfully and you wanted to punch him.

You turned your attention to Bones who looked confused and annoyed as he set his med-kit down by Kirk's chair and stood to your right, his arms crossed, looking impatient.

You took a deep breath in and opened your mouth, silently praying that your voice had returned to normal.  It hadn't.

"Hello there, Bones." You sung, and almost laughed when he raised his eyebrows in bewilderment. 

"What in the..." Bones began but you interrupted, getting out of your chair. 

"I think it has something to do with the hiccups." Your voice was high and soft as you tried to explain.  It pissed you off. 

"Is this some sort of joke?" Bones' brows furrowed and he looked at you and Jim suspiciously. 

"I wish it was." You sang and crossed your arms over your chest. 

Bones turned to Jim, giving him a glare, “Why didn't call me earlier?"

"Awww, come on, Bones, it's funny!" Kirk slapped Bones on the shoulder with a grin.  Bones didn't return the smile. 

"This could be a medical emergency, she could be infected with something..." Bones began, his mind quickly turning to doctor mode as he stalked to his med-kit and pulled out his tricorder. 

"I feel okay..." You tried to reassure the doctor, but when you said "okay" your voice decided to hit a high note and you had to clasp your hand over your mouth to cut it off. 

Bones glared at Kirk who had begun to laugh harder, now doubled over.  

Bones stalked over to you and grabbed you by your elbow, not too gently either, and tugged you in the direction of the turbo-lift.  He mumbled something about getting you to the medbay and "damn it Jim" and the last thing you heard before the lift doors closed behind you was Kirk whining at Bones for taking you away. 

He scanned his tricorder over you in the lift and you just stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say, or, you guess, sing.  Thankfully he didn't ask you any questions until you got back to the medbay and he sat you down on an exam bed.

"Tell me, Y/N, what are your symptoms." He questioned gruffly, looking down at his PADD rather than at you. 

"Umm... well let's see, I had terrible hiccups, my throat started to really hurt, and, I don't know, now I SING EVERYTHING I SAY!" You responded, your voice never hitting a wrong note, and though you meant to sound angry, it came out as more of a loud melody.  

Bones' lips wavered as if he was suppressing a smile, before frowning deeply, his eyes still on the PADD. 

"Did you eat anything funny, or go anywhere unusual?" 

"Well I just got back from that away mission lead by Spock, maybe I picked something up there?" You serenaded, and his eyes finally met yours, sparkling with amusement. 

"You do have a nice voice." He noted and couldn't hide a cute grin. 

"Shut up. Just fix me." You scolded with two high notes.  

"Now don't go getting all your ballads in a bunch." He was smiling now, pretty much beaming at you, and you couldn't help but smile back.  

"I'm going to killll you!" You threatened.

 "If you do, darlin', there will be no one left to cure you, you will be stuck singing everything.  Forever." Bones teased and tapped the end of the hypo he had just prepared off your chin.  

"That might not be so bad..." You imagined as you sang, Bones applying the hypo to your neck. 

"That feel any better?" He asked, stepping back, but his hand was still rested on your shoulder. 

You cleared your throat, "Testing 1...2... damn!"  You swore as your voice continued to rise and fall to a silent song. 

Bones laughed now, and you couldn't help but smile up at him. 

"Don't worry, darlin', we'll get to the bottom of this, even if it tuns out you need an 'opera'-ation." 

This was going to be a long night. 

-Thanks for reading!  Once again thanks to @eenterprise for the request!  Hope you enjoyed it!  Bon soir! - 

[uneminuteparseconde]

Des concerts à Paris et autour

Mars 14. Extreme Precautions + Violent Magic Orchstra + Round B + Hallebardier – Espace b 14. Phew + Johann Mazé + :such: (fest. Sonic Protest) – théâtre de Vanves 15. This is not this Heat + Heimat (fest. Sonic Protest) – Le 104 16. Quator Béla & Albert Marcoeur (Paris Music fest.) – Petit Palais 16. Maoupa Mazochetti + None (Paris Music fest.) – La Rotonde de Stalingrad 16. Charles de Goal + Dageist + Electric Press Kit – Supersonic (gratuit) 16. La Féline + Pierre-Jean Cormier (Paris Music fest.) – La Maroquinerie 16. Russian Circles + Dirge + Cloakroom – Trabendo ||COMPLET|| 16. Eric Chenaux + Lucas Koenig + Ar Ker (Paris Music fest.) – Centre Barbara FGO 16. Vincent Ségal (Paris Music fest.) – Sunset Jazz Club 16. Damien Dubrovnik + Ghédalia Tazartès & Low Jack + Anne Gillis (fest. Sonic Protest) – Le Générateur (Gentilly) 16. Otto Van Schirach + Infecticide + Gwyn Wurst + Qebrus – Le Chinois (Montreuil) 16/17. Philippe Cohen Solal (Gotan Project) (Paris Music fest.) – Hôtel de Lauzun 17. Jean-Michel Blais (Paris Music fest.) – Petit Palais 17. Le Comte + Timsters (Paris Music fest.) – Crypte archéologique du parvis Notre-Dame 17. Harry Merry + Humming Dog + The Choolers Division (fest. Sonic Protest) – Centre Barbara FGO 17. EECEE – Les Voûtes 17. Ulrich Schnauss + Almeeva – Batofar 17. Franck Vigroux : Ruines (fest. Marto) – Théâtre Jean-Arp (Clamart) 17. Andrew Weatherall + Recondite + Mind Against – Nuits fauves 17. Xosar + I-F + Low Jack + Eastel – La Machine 17. CAR + Yula Kasp + Gina XXX – La Java 17/18. Peter Rehberg : musique pour “Uccello, uccellacci, & the birds” de J.-L. Verna – La Ménagerie de verre 18. Seabuckthorn (Paris Music fest.) – Crypte archéologique du parvis Notre-Dame 18. Nosfell (Paris Music fest.) – cour khmère|Musée Guimet (gratuit) 18. Adrien Soleiman (Paris Music fest.) – Petit Palais 18. Taku Sugimoto & Junko – Le Bal 18. Tamara Goukassova + Genesis Adcition – Treize 18. Tarek Atoui + Florian Hecker + Giulio Colangelo & Valerio De Bonis – Centre Pompidou 18. Anla Courtis vs Turbulences ! + André Robillard & Alexis Forestier + The Nihilist Spasm Band (fest. Sonic Protest) – Centre Barbara FGO 18. Fabrizio Rat/La Machina + Heptatonia + Ensemble Links joue "Drumming" de S. reich – La Ferme du Buisson (Noisiel) 18/19. Philippe Cohen Solal (Gotan Project) (Paris Music fest.) – Hôtel de Lauzun 19. Sarah Kenchington (fest. Sonic Protest) – La Générale 19. Anla Courtis (fest. Sonic Protest) – Petit Bain 20. Carbon Sink : musique pour la lecture performée de "Mojave Épiphanie" d'Ewen Chardronnet – La Colonie 20. Warpaint – Élysée-Montmartre 21. Nurse With Wound + Martial Bécheau + O. Augst, A. Bellanger & S-A. Johansson jouent "Chante France !" (fest. Sonic Protest) – église Saint-Merry 22. The Flying Luttenbachers + Zoo + Jean-Philippe Gross (fest. Sonic Protest) – église Saint-Merry 23. Art Kill Art (fest. Sonic Protest) – église Saint-Merry 23. Die Selektion + Crave + Cheyenne Schiavone – Point FMR 23. The Eye of Time + Badbad + The Absolute Never + On lâche les chiens – Cirque électrique 23. Chapelier fou (Curieuse nocturne) – Musée d'Orsay 23. Vitalic – Olympia ||COMPLET|| 23. Etienne Jaumet & Romain Turzi – Badaboum 24. Golden Oriole + La Tène + Orgue Agnès (fest. Sonic Protest) – La Marbrerie (Montreuil) 24. Nosfell – Maison populaire (Montreuil) 24. Society of Silence + Jerome Hill + Jaquarius – La Java 25. Buzzcocks – Elysées Montmartre 25. Wolf Eyes + Liberez + Cantenac Dagar (fest. Sonic Protest) – La Marbrerie (Montreuil) 25. One Lick Less + Grand Veymont – tba (La Courneuve) (sur invitation) 25. Papier Tigre + Will Guthrie + Totorro – Centre culturel Paul B (Massy) 25. Kangding Ray (dj) + Felix K + Varsovie + DiMs – Trabendo 26. Sarah Kenchington (fest. Sonic Protest) – La Générale 28. Alan Courtis + Frgttn + La Petite paire des peuples + P1g3on – tba 29. Spectres – Supersonic (gratuit) 29. Marnie (Ladytron) + Soldout (fest. Les femmes s'en mêlent off) – Batofar 30. Jay-Jay Johanson joue "Whiskey" – Centre Pompidou 30. Krikor + Tolouse Low Trax + Discipline & Michel Wisniewski + 67Yarc – Salo 31. Austra + Barbi(e)turix + Rebeka Warrior (dj) (fest. Les femmes s'en mêlent) – Le Trianon 31. Monarch! + Birushanah + Chaos Echoes + Chaos ET Sexual (fest. Frisson acidulé) – Centre Barbara-FGO 31. John Zorn : The Hermetic Organ – Salle Boulez|Philharmonie

Avril 01. John Zorn : The Interpretation of Dreams – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 01. John Zorn – musée du Louvre 01. Rubin Steiner + Night Riders + dDamage + B.I.M. + La Mverte – Centre Barbara-FGO 01. Terminal Cheesecake + Reproach + Paddy Steer + In Zaire + Rat's Blood + X-Or + Le Renard + Noyades + Syndrome 81 + Futuroscope + Mhonos + Cheap Wine + Bras mort + Danc Music Rhône Alpes (fest. Frisson acidulé) – Cirque électrique 01. Is a Fich + Franq de Quengo... (Forum Famille, autisme et fraternité) – Les Chapiteaux turbulents 01. Superpitcher B2B Joakim + Joakim + Clara 3000 + Apollo noir + Full Circle – Salo 01. Mark Archer + Myako + Ed Isar + Aprile – Batofar 02. Slowdive + Dead Sea – Trabendo 02. John Zorn : Bagatelles Marathon – Salle Boulez|Philharmonie 02. Jessica93 : cinéconcert sur “Haxan” de B. Christensen + Ashtoreth + La Cabine + Orval Carlos Sibelius + Héron cendré + Dr Snuggle & MC Jacqueline + Arno de Cea & The Clockwork Wizards (fest. Frisson acidulé) – Cirque électrique 04. December + Voiron + Morzig – Point FMR (gratuit avant 20h) 05. NLF3 + Foudre & Christine Ott – Petit Bain 05. Les Filles de Illighadad + Guilhem Lacroux – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 06. King Dude + Dune Massiah – Batofar 06. Tristesse contemporaine – Badaboum 06. Grandaddy + Jamie Lee + Mourn (Arte concerts fest.) – Gaîté lyrique 07. Jarvis Cocker & Chilly Gonzales + Peter Broderick + Sarah McCoy (Arte concerts fest.) – Gaîté lyrique 07. Function + Shifted + Lucy + SNTS + Anetha – Dock Eiffel 08. Miss Kittin + Clark + Danny Daze + Factory Floor + Noga Erez (Arte concerts fest.) – Gaîté lyrique 11. Broken Lights + Händer Som Vårdar + Milos Olympus – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 12. :Of the Wand and the Moon: + Jo Qail – Petit Bain 13. Vashti Bunyan + Steve Gunn – Le Carreau du Temple 13. Glorias Navales + Sun Stabbed – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 14. David Behrman + Ivo Malec + Thomas Ankersmit + Kara-Lis Coverdale + Cannibal (Cameon Jamie, Cary Loren & Denis Tyfus) (Présences électronique) – Le 104 14. Trans Am – Point FMR 15. Thomas Tilly + Felicia Atkinson + L'Ocelle Mare + Jana Winderen + François Bayle + Stephan Mathieu joue "Earle Brown December 52" + Hild Sofie Tafjord + Demdike Stare (Présences électronique) – Le 104 15. Hologram_ + Chrysalide + Meta Meat + Näo + Horskh + Moaan Exis + DJ K.Oz + Nine Flesh (dj) – Petit Bain 15. Gnod + Common Eider, King Eider + Me donner – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 16. Meryll Ampe & Leafcutter John + Mazen Kebra & Roland Kayn + James Tenney + Andrew Pekler + Deathprod + Akira Rabelais (Présences électronique) – Le 104 18. Bleib Modern – Espace B 18. Horse Lords + Clouds Become your Hands – Olympic café 19. Winter Family + Jambinai – Centre Barbara FGO 19. Xeno & Oaklander + Nova Materia – Badaboum 20. Pharmakon + Descendeur – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 21. Croatian Amor + Andrea Belfi – église Saint-Merri 21. Fils de Vénus + Balladur + Tommy Genesis – Badaboum 21. Grand Blanc + Marietta + Robbing Millions +  The Parrots + Johnny Mafia + Halo Maud (Mofo fest.) – Mains d'oeuvre (Saint-Ouen) 21. Dave Clark – Nuits fauves 22. Fujiya & Miyagi + Black Devil Disco Club + Buvette + Il esty vilaine + Faire + Oko Ebombo (Mofo fest.) – Mains d'oeuvre (Saint-Ouen) 22. Komplikations + Taulard + Pour X raisons – Cirque électrique 23. Arnaud Rebotini + Jacques & Gain + Aquaserge +  Rendez-Vous + Onze onze + The Luyas + Julien Barbagello + Human Theorema (Mofo fest.) – Mains d'oeuvre (Saint-Ouen) 26. Rodolphe Burger + Sylvain Vanot – Le 104 ||COMPLET|| 26. True Widow + King Woman – Espace B 26. Aluk Todolo + Oranssi Pazuzu – Petit Bain 27. The Jesus & Mary Chain – Elysée Montmartre 27>29. Gaëtan Boudy & Clément Hauvrette : cinéconcert sur "M le maudit" de F. Lang – Le Cirque électrique 28. Oxbow + Celeste + Sumac + Inter Arma (Old Town Bicycle fest.) – Le Gibus 29. Dälek + Ovtrenoir + Jaye Jayle + Emma Ruth Rundle (Old Town Bicycle fest.) – Le Gibus 29. Sébastien Roux – Le Bal 29. Frustration + Cheveu + JC Satan + La Femme + Usé + Violence conujugale + Cannibale + Marietta (dj) + Topper Harley (dj) – La Machine 30. Nadja + Matt Jencik + Ensemble économique – Supersonic (gratuit) 30. Seefeel + BLN – Batofar

Mai 01. Black Marble – Batofar [REPORTÉ] 04. Group A – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 03. Meat Wave – La mécanique ondulatoire 04. Qual – Espace B 05. La Novia & Yann Gourdon : “In C” de Terry Riley – Centre Pompidou 06. Esmerine – Espace B 09. Blanck Mass – Point FMR 10. Zombie Zombie + Tomaga + None + Tristesse contemporaine (dj) (Zombie Jamboree fest./10 ans de Julie Tipex) – La Machine 11. Oiseaux-Tempête – Trabendo 11. Ambassador 21 – Bus Palladium 12. Wire – La Maroquinerie 12. Etienne Jaumet + Gilb'r + Tolouse Low Trax (Zombie Jamboree fest./10 ans de Julie Tipex) – La Machine 13. Collection d'Arnell Andrea – Batofar 17. Xiu Xiu + Le Prince Harry – Petit Bain 23. Sleaford Mods + Mark Wynn – Gaîté lyrique 24. Death in Vegas – Gaîté lyrique 24. God is an Astronaut – Flow 25. Collectif_Sin (Villette sonique) – Wip 25. Keiji Haino, Merzbow & Balasz Pandi + Afrirampo + Puce Mary (Villette sonique) – Trabendo 26. Royal Trux + Groupe Doueh & Cheveu + Uranium Club + Bernardino Femminielli (Villette sonique) – Grande Halle de La Villette 27. Annette Peacock + OOIOO (Villette sonique) – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 27/28. Princess Nokia + Randomer + Marie Davidson + Doomsday Student + Mandolin Sister + The Goon Sax + Pizza Noise Mafia + Deena Abdelwahed + Volition Immanent + Mdou Moctar (Villette sonique) – Parc de La Villette (gratuit) 28. Einstürzende Neubauten + Jenny Hval – Grande Halle de La Villette 29. Ruins + Akaten + Zubi Zuva X + Acid Mother Temple SWR + Acid Mother Kirisute Gomen + Psyche Bugyo + Makoto Kawabata + Zoffy + Atsushi Tsuyama + Emiko Ota (Japanese New Music) – Gaîté lyrique 29. Psychic TV 3 – Petit Bain 30. Broken Social Scene – L'Alhambra 31. The Make Up + The Blind Shake (Villette sonique) – Cabaret sauvage

Juin 08. Primal Scream – Gaîté lyrique 08. Soror Dolorosa + Schonwald – Bus Palladium 09. Skinny Puppy + Carpenter Brut (fest. Download) –  Base aérienne 217 (Brétigny/Orge) 10/11. Richie Hawtin + Flying Lotus + Jon Hopkins (dj) + Parcels + Jessy Lanza + Action Bronson  + Anderson Paak + Abra... (We Love Green) – Bois de Vincennes 11. Amanda Palmer & Edward Ka Spel – La Cigale 30. Geneviève Pasquier + Position parallèle + Black Light Ascension – Le Zèbre de Belleville 30>10.07. Air + Metronomy + Jarvis Cocker & Chilly Gonzales + Savages + Devendra Banhart + Michael Kiwanuka + Tindesticks présentent "Minute Bodies" + James Vincent McMorrow + Lady Sir (Rachida Brakni & Gaëtan Roussel) + Kate Tempest + Calypso Valois + The Color Bars Experience joue Nick Drake (fest. Days Off) – Philharmonie

Juillet 01. Ke/Hil + Kommando + Tunnels of Āh + AntiVallium – Le Zèbre de Belleville 05. Group Doueh & Cheveu – Institut des Cultures d'Islam 21. Hocico + Shaârghot – Petit Bain

Août 25>27. PJ Harvey + The XX + At the Drive In+ Franz Ferdinand + Cypress Hill + Ty Segall + Rone + The Kills... (Rock en Seine) – Parc de Saint-Cloud

Septembre 22. She Past Away – Petit Bain 27. Sigur Ros – Grand Rex ||COMPLET|| 28/29. Sigur Ros – Grand Rex

Octobre 03/04. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Zénith 28. Peter Hook & The Light – Le Trianon

en gras : les derniers ajouts / in bold: the last news

[itsworn]

Robert Foley’s 426 Max Wedge–Powered 1963 Polara Overheats. We’re Gonna Fix It

The Combo

Law enforcement officer by day, hot rodder by night—Robert Foley always wanted to get his hands on an early Mopar Max Wedge car.

Robert Foley always wanted to put together an early big-block Mopar muscle car. “I liked the history and tradition, how these awesome cars put Chrysler into the forefront! I lucked out and found a 1963 Dodge Polara with the awesome 426 Max Wedge already in it!” The clone-conversion is about as close as an average hot rodder can get to the real McCoy outside of a museum. Its frame-off rebuild included a real 13.5:1 426 Max Wedge motor, complete with a solid-lifter cam, a cross-ram fed by Edelbrock AVS carbs, and factory cast-iron headers. The power is transferred back through a 3,000-rpm stall-speed converter, a pushbutton 727 TorqueFlite, and a 3.91:1-geared Moser 8¾-inch Sure-Grip.

Originally a 318-powered dozer, the Polara underwent a rotisserie restoration, complete with an authentic 426W motor.

The Problem

Even back in the day, these raggedy-edge cars weren’t known as stellar coolers. Today’s crappy gas sure doesn’t help things. “I couldn’t drive it more than 2 to 3 miles before the temperature would get up to 220 degrees,” Foley complained. “At that point, I’d just shut it off. It never stabilized or leveled off, wouldn’t improve at high speed, and didn’t care what the outside temperature was.”

The stock cooling system couldn’t cool the 13.5:1 426. Note how the radiator, shroud, fan, and engine mount are offset to the passenger side.

The Diagnosis

Rollings’ Automotive dropped in a new Griffin “Combo Package”: a high-tech aluminum radiator with twin electric fans in a custom shroud.

Fortunately, Rollings Automotive—one of our go-to SoCal rescue facilities—is within spitting distance of Foley’s Riverside, California, residence. Norm Rollings took only a few minutes to science the problem out. There were no obvious mechanical defects: The thermostat was opening, the pressure cap was the system’s high point, there were no bubbles in the coolant, and timing adjustments made little difference. Time to bring out the big guns: an aluminum radiator, electric fans, and a high-flow water pump. The electric fans’ electrical demands called for a higher-output alternator and wiring upgrades. Added into the mix was Foley’s wish to preserve (to the extent possible) the Polara’s period looks. We spec’d the 440Source.com for a water pump, Griffin Thermal Products for the radiator and fans, Powermaster for a high-output alternator, and a posse of local and aftermarket manufacturers to deal with the inevitable chassis integration and detailing requirements.

It’s not easy keeping a 13.5:1 all-cast-iron 426 Max Wedge cool on the street. The three big-ticket cooling rescue items include a Griffin aluminum radiator/shroud/electric fan package, a 440Source.com high-flow aluminum water pump with cast-iron impeller, and a modern 95-amp Powermaster one-wire alternator. But there’s lots of little extras that make for a sano upgrade, including dipping into Rollings’ secret stash of aircraft fasteners. If there’s no surplus store in your area, most of the “trick” hardware can be purchased from outfits like Aircraft Spruce or ARP.

A] Water pump (Photos 01–03)

B] Radiator, electric fans (Photos 04–10, 13–14, 25–26)

C] Coolant recovery tank (Photos 11–12)

D] One-wire alternator (Photos 15–18)

E] Disconnect external regulator (Photo 19)

F] Fan controller and fan relays (Photos 20–21, 23)

G] Aircraft hardware (Photos 21–22)

H] Starter relay (photo 24)

I] Shorter oil filter (Photo 21)

The Fix: Water Pump

Big-block Chryslers use a water pump that bolts to a separate housing that in turn bolts to the engine block. The pump’s impeller-blade shape plus the clearance of the pump/impeller assembly to the housing’s interior cavity is an important factor in establishing the pump’s overall efficiency. Foley had a standard cast-iron housing and the usual parts-store cast-iron pump with sloppy clearances; the cheapie sheetmetal impeller looked like it was cannibalized from a child’s toy. They were trash-canned and replaced by 440Source.com’s high-flow aluminum pump and housing kit. The pump features a superior curved-vane cast-iron impeller, and the close-tolerance interior housing clearances are precisely controlled to the point that 440Source.com supplies its own pump-to-housing gasket (yes, paper gasket thickness can vary slightly).

01] The 440Source.com’s high-flow aluminum pump with its matching tight-tolerance aluminum housing tightens up the impeller-to-housing clearances for better flow.

02] Note the 440Source.com’s curved-vane, cast impeller, as well as a thick shoulder that extends further into the housing (right); the stocker (left) has a flimsy sheetmetal impeller—ouch!

03] 440 Source’s “early” pump has the right driver-side inlet and enough hot-side pipe-thread holes to allow mounting (from left) the stock temp sender, an Auto Meter temp gauge sender, and the electric fan control unit thermal probe without tee-fittings. Buttonhead pump-to-housing screws clear large billet pulleys. The 440Source.com’s billet water outlet hides a Rollings-gutted thermostat—this is Southern California!

The Fix: Radiator and Fans

To replace Foley’s copper/brass three-row radiator and lame four-blade mechanical fan, we chose Griffin’s Exact Fit aluminum two-core radiator that’s designed to drop in place of most original old-school radiators. In this case, the exact year and model weren’t in the catalog, but a close analog is listed for other 1962–1965 big-block Mopar muscle cars; just be sure to check exact fitment and clearances. Foley’s existing, nearly new upper and lower radiator hoses bolted right up.

04] Radiator tech has come a long way since the 1960s. Griffin’s Direct Fit Combo kit package for most early Mopar big-block/auto-trans cars (PN CU-70024) includes its high-tech aluminum radiator plus a custom aluminum shroud loaded with twin SPAL 10-inch electric fans. The large tube, high-density core still uses a sheetmetal tank for a pseudo-classic appearance. The numbered callouts in this photo indicate the “real-world” location of the parts shown in photos 00–00 that follow within this “Radiator and Fans” section.

05] Like many current OE setups, shroud-relief flaps open at speed to relieve detrimental pressure buildup.

06] A good idea for any aluminum radiator, Rollings added an anti-corrosion sacrificial anode in place of the conventional drain cock.

07] Not inverted flare or 37-degree AN: Rare ¼ pipe-thread-to-SAE 45-degree male cone nipples connect the stock ⁵⁄₁₆-inch auto-trans hardlines to the radiator.

08] Griffin uses pipe thread for the overflow nipple below the pressure cap, allowing Rollins to bend up a ¼-inch stainless-steel hardline with a 37-degree AN coupling nut and flare.

09] At the other end, the tubing connects to Phenix lightweight race hose using a Phenix flareless compression fitting, eliminating the need for an extra union.

10] Always check hood clearance using modeling clay or heavy grease. Rollings had to lower the radiator ½ inch, accomplished by drilling new holes in its integral mounting plate ½-inch higher to mate with the core support’s factory holes and weld nuts (arrow).

A big Moroso reservoir tank reported for duty as a coolant recovery unit.

11] The Phenix race hose runs from the overflow tube (see photo 09, above) to the bottom of this big 2-quart Moroso aluminum reservoir tank. It’s used here as a full sealed coolant recovery system (CRS). Rollings says the tank in most retrofit CRS kits is too small. “Judge for yourself. Look how large today’s overflow tanks are on new cars.”

12] The Moroso tank mounts to existing factory weld-nuts on the driver-side fender via a fabricated aluminum bracket.

So what’s so special about Griffin’s aluminum wonder? Dimensionally, the core height and width is about the same as the old unit, but aluminum’s higher tensile strength allows the tubes to be significantly larger, resulting in more surface area per tube—and surface area is where most heat exchange goes down. Griffin has a higher tube density/inch, further improving heat dissipation when used with electric fans and a properly designed shroud.

13] Griffin’s 18.00 x 21.88-inch core area is about the same as the old radiator, but there’s more to radiator efficiency than gross dimensions. Theoretically, a copper/brass radiator is a slightly more efficient heat exchanger than aluminum, but its tensile strength is lower. Being stronger, aluminum supports higher pressures and larger-diameter, thinner-wall radiator tubes. The Griffin used on the Polara has 1.25-inch tubes, but despite its larger tubes, the Griffin’s tube density comes in at 54 tubes/inch.

14] By contrast, the stocker it replaced has only 0.375-inch tubes and 39 tubes/inch. This makes the Griffin’s tube density about 38-percent higher than the stocker. Griffin also has 16 fins/inch, versus this old unit’s 13 fins/inch. Collectively, larger tubes with greater surface area plus higher density greatly increase heat dissipation.

Then there’s the issue of multirow (multicore) stacking: On an old three- or four-row radiator, the rear cores are less efficient because they see air that’s already been heated by the forward core(s). A similarly sized two-core aluminum radiator with larger tubes nearly always outperforms a three- or four-core copper/brass setup. And electric fans perform best on a radiator with fewer cores. Unlike a beltdriven fan whose speed is tied to engine rpm, electric fans run at a constant speed independent of engine rpm, making them today’s choice for superior low-rpm cooling on most hot rods.

We ordered the Griffin’ radiator as part of a complete “Combo Package,” which also includes a custom shroud, twin SPAL electric fans, and relays. But those current-hungry fans and Foley’s existing electric fuel pump gotta get fed.

The Fix: Alternator and Wiring

15] Out with the weak stock alternator. A Powermaster high-output, one-wire unit supplies the new Griffin-supplied electric fans’ current demands.

Old muscle cars were underwired even stock, and first-gen alternators didn’t put out enough current at idle. (Ever experience dim headlights when idling with the windshield wipers on?) As alternators evolved, they became more efficient, developing higher peak output in a similar-size case, putting out more amps at idle, and ramping up to full power quicker. At speed, early Chrysler alternators typically put out at most 50 amps. We were able to more than double that with a bolt-in, Chrysler-style Powermaster one-wire unit. They’re officially rated at 95 amps, but the dyno-test sheet in the box showed our unit actually made 75 amps at idle, 80 at cruise, and 112 on the top end.

16] Fan appreciation day: Supplying current to the grateful, current-hungry, electric fans is a Powermaster one-wire squareback alternator (right) that’s at least twice as powerful as the first-gen roundback it replaced (left). The new unit’s case is based on the mid-1960s-and-later Chrysler configuration, but still looks distinctively Mopar. It physically bolted up with no reclocking needed.

17] Powermaster’s true one-wire unit is internally regulated and self-exciting. Don’t connect any of the old external wires to the Field terminals (A). Bolt the single charge wire to the B+ stud (B). The alternator usually self-grounds through its mounting bracket, but for insurance Rollings ran an external ground wire from the ground terminal (C) to an exhaust manifold bolt.

Powermaster’s internally regulated design is a cinch to install. It uses just one main charge wire. Rollings did upsize from a 12-gauge to a Powermaster 8-gauge charging wire, protected from chafing (as were all the other newly run wiring) by split nylon sleeving. Foley was already running a AWG 00 battery cable from his trunk-mounted battery to the starter.

18] Upgrade the charge wire from the typical 12-gauge stocker to 8-gauge (or larger, depending on the length of the run); they’re available from Powermaster. Here the upgrade runs to the starter relay and on to the starter. Still running a stock ammeter? Hook the black wire to the B+ stud. Run an auxiliary ground as desired. (Photo: Ryan Lugo)

19] The old separate voltage regulator was left sitting on the firewall for looks, but it’s not hooked up to anything.

To reduce potential duty-cycle strain under California 100-degree-plus summers, Rollings elected to use 75-amp Bosch fan control relays in place of the supplied 30-amp units. A Hayden adjustable fan controller allowed dialing in the fan actuation temperature as measured by a thermal probe that safely screws into a water pump pipe-thread fitting.

20] Rollings fail-safed the car against SoCal’s blazing summer heat: “I installed 75-amp Bosch relays (left) in place of the supplied 30-amp relays (right). As the outside air temp goes up, the wires get heat-soaked, increasing resistance and amp-draw, so you have to derate the official specs.” On the car, they mount to the core support using Nutsert rivet nuts.

21] Rollings added a Hayden adjustable fan controller with a pipe-threaded thermal probe. “It’s safer than an all-metal probe slid through the radiator fins, where you can have a direct short to ground if there’s ever metal-to-metal contact.” The Hayden mounts with surplus aircraft “pin screws” that have a wrenchless flat head and an internal wrenching hex at the externally-threaded end. This allows tightening a self-locking jet nut from one side.

22] If there’s a trick way to attach something, odds are good you’ll find a solution at your local aircraft surplus hardware store. Jet nuts and pins screws come in an almost infinite variety of variations.

23] The Hayden controller triggers two big 75-amp Bosch relays. Each Bosch relay runs one fan. The Hayden unit has its own 30-amp relay, but it’s not stressed because, in this installation, its “high side” serves only as a low-current trigger for the two larger Bosch relays. Fusible links provide further protection. (Photo: Ryan Lugo)

24] Main power feeds for the electric fan relays and fan controller comes off the Chrysler firewall-mounted starter relay. Fusible links (which did not exist in 1963) were added after this photo was taken for circuit protection.

The Fix: Final Clearance Issues

After everything was buttoned together, Foley’s existing oil filter hit a transmission fluid cooling line. Rollings replaced it with a shorter filter used on many late 1990s Chrysler products. There was also some concern about limited clearance between the fans and water-pump pulley. However, it proved not to be a problem even when the engine “rocked-over” under hard acceleration. All in all, everything fit together like a large jigsaw puzzle.

25] Post-install fitment: Foley’s existing long Wix racing filter (PN 51515R, left) hit the trans cooling lines. It was replaced by a 1⅓-inch shorter Wix filter (PN 51085, right) that’s stock on many mid-to-late-1990s Chrysler products.

26] Electric fan-to-water pump pulley clearance was tight, but acceptable.

The Results

Foley’s Polara runs normally at 185 degrees under normal driving, rising to no more than 205 degrees when he gets real squirrely and performs multiple burnouts. Rollings plans some additional fine-tuning to get the dinosaur motor to behave a little better during daily street driving, though we expect the 13.5:1 mill will always need additive.

Lessons Learned

If you really want to drive a classic, high-compression, muscle-car clone on the street, be prepared to implement modern tech to keep it alive. On some of these cars—especially those cloned from a more sedate model—not everything is as it’s “supposed to be.” Be prepared to check fitment on every add-on, and don’t be afraid to mod as needed so everything fits together like it should. That’s hot rodding!

The only heat the now-cool, bright-yellow Polara generates is the rumpity-rump of the never-to-be forgotten age of big Detroit muscle.

Need Junk Fixed? If your car has a gremlin that just won’t quit, you could be chosen for Hot Rod to the Rescue. Email us at pitstop@HotRod.com and put “Rescue” in the subject line. Include a description of your problem, a photo, your location, and a daytime phone number.

440Source.com 775.883.2590 440source.com

Aircraft Spruce & Specialty Co. 877.4.SPRUCE or 951.372.9555 AircraftSpruce.com

Automotive Racing Products (ARP) 800.826.3045 or 805.339.2200 ARP-Bolts.com

Bernell Hydraulics Inc. CA; 800.326.7252 or 909.899.1751 BernellHydraulics.com

Fastenal Co. 877.507.7555 or 507.454.5374 Fastenal.com

Flex-a-lite, a Legend Co. 800.851.1510 (sales) or 253.922.2700 (tech & customer service) Flex-a-lite.com

G&J Aircraft and Competition 909.986.6534 GandJAircraft.net

Griffin Thermal Products 800.722.3723 or 864.845.5000 GriffinRad.com

Hayden Automotive (Four Seasons Div./Standard Motor Products Inc.) 888.505.4567; HaydenAuto.com

Ideal Clamp Products Inc. 800.251.3220 or 615.459.5800 IdealTridon.com

Lucas Oil Products Inc. 800.342.2512 or 951.270.0154 LucasOil.com

Moroso Performance Products 203.453.6571 (sales/customer support); 203.458.0542 or 203-458-0546 (tech) Moroso.com

O’Reilly Auto Parts 888.327.7153 (internet orders), 800.755.6759 (store customer service), or 417.829.5727 OReillyAuto.com

O’Reilly Auto Parts Store #2682 951.685.0822 OReillyAuto.com

Phenix Industries 951.780.9330 PhenixInudstries.com

Pico Wiring Accessories 541.688.9646 PicoWiring.com

Powermaster Motorsports 630.957.4019 (sales) or 630.849.7754 (tech) PowermasterPerformance.com

Robert Bosch LLC 917.421.7209; Bosch.us

Rollings Automotive Inc. 951.361.3001 RollingsAutoInc.com

Summit Racing Equipment 800.230.3030 (orders) or 330.630.0240 (tech) SummitRacing.com

Waytek Wire 800.328.3274 or 952.949.0965 WaytekWire.com

Wix Filters 704.869.3421 (customer service), 704.864.6748 (sales), or 800.949.6698 (USA, product information) WixFilters.com

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| d a r k c i t y v i b e s | by olivenachos featuring black candle sticks

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[olivenachos]

| d a r k c i t y v i b e s | by olivenachos featuring black candle sticks

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[olivenachos]

| d a r k c i t y v i b e s | by olivenachos featuring black candle sticks

White and black plaid shirt / Sexy see through lingerie / Truffle cut out heel booties / Rounded sunglasses / McCoy Design black candle stick / FUJIFILM, $13 / Kit Kraft inc., Studs & Nailheads, Black Star Studs - 1/2" / NEW Deandri Illustration Temporary Tattoos

[itsworn]

The Car Craft Project Car Update What’s happened so far, and what’s next for our fleet?

What do you get when you combine a late ‘60s pickup, an early ‘70s personal luxury car, a mid-‘60s full-sized wagon, a Pro-Touring Chevelle, a couple G-bodies, a late-model F-car, a Fox-body Thunderbird, and an EcoBoost Mustang- a schizophrenic car collection? No, you have a nearly perfect blend of project cars for Car Craft. In this installment, we check in on our regular and no-so regular projects, as well as introducing a couple new cars to the fleet. We hope you like what you see.

Truck Norris

Our project 1967 C10 is keeping us entertained with some clutch hydraulic issues and a nagging oil leak. Otherwise, the BluePrint Engines 540 big block is running great with AEM’s Infinity EFI, so much so that it is your author’s current daily driver as the CC/Malibu is out of town for another project and my long-suffering Subaru wagon recently experienced a catastrophic engine failure. Let us know if you want to see a Coyote engine swap into a 1999 Legacy, by the way!

In about four months worth of driving, we’ve worn through two clutch master cylinders. These pictures show the damage. The piston should be uniformly gray from the anodizing it received prior to assembly, but notice how it’s worn through on the rear portion of the piston. The fluid is thick and contaminated with aluminum essentially machined away where the piston and bore made contact.

We suspect the culprit is a misalignment between the clutch linkage and the master cylinder. Our sources at Wilwood Engineering explained that the linkage must be concentric with the master cylinder bore. In other words, it must be centered on the piston and travel straight into the master. We suspect that because we altered the master cylinder’s location, this accounts for the misalignment. American Powertrain’s hydraulic clutch conversion was designed for a small block. With our big block, the master cylinder location would have been touching the exhaust, so we moved it up and outboard from where it should have been.

After the second master cylinder failure, we decided to try a different setup. This came via a member of the 67-72chevytrucks.com message board. His design uses a linkage that comes straight off the clutch pedal, and stepped down via a rocker arm to reduce the travel to about 1.4-inches.

We combined it with Wilwood’s high-volume master cylinder, which has a ¾-inch bore to match our hydraulic throwout bearing. The guys at Wilwood were even kind enough to bench-bleed it for us.

Sometime in this engine’s travels to and from three shops, three different engine dyno sessions, and two mockups in the truck before final assembly, the oil pan developed a stress crack on the left side near the drain plug.

The leak grew worse as the crack slowly spread. This shows the size of the puddle after sitting for 24 hours. For reference, that’s a gallon jug of motor oil next to it.

We know the best fix is to remove the pan, clean it, and weld the crack closed, or simply replace the pan outright. However, as mentioned in the intro, Truck Norris is our only means of transportation right now. We were reluctant to weld it with the pan on the engine, so we tried a series of temporary fixes in the interim: black RTV silicone, JB Weld, Permatex fuel tank repair, but they only slowed the leak. This product has fared the best of all: JB Weld’s Water Weld. It’s resistant to most automotive fluids, and it will set under water. It’s managed to stop the leak for a week already, and will serve as a stopgap until we have backup transportation and attempt to weld the pan.

The CC/Malibu

Our cream-puff 1978 Malibu has been a great runner, now that the cooling system is sorted out. On the rollers at Westech, it cranked out 320 hp and 386 lb-ft of torque, which was more than we had expected. That means the 350 built with Trick Flow’s 400 hp top end kit makes every bit of power it’s advertised to, and maybe a bit more. Either way it’s been a rock-solid reliable road-tripper, and we’ve already taken it to Tucson for the ZipTie Drags, to Las Vegas for Holley’s LS Fest West, and to Northern California for Anti Tour. Still, it wouldn’t be much of a project car without some things breaking…

One annoying problem with the Malibu was an erratic idle, dieseling, and oil-fouled plugs, which caused a few perplexing looks to be directed at the engine.

Some sleuthing revealed leaky intake manifold gaskets that were sucking air and oil into the engine from the lifter valley. Replacing them solved all the aforementioned problems.

If you remember, we’re using a Vortec engine block with no provision for a mechanical fuel pump, so there’s a low-pressure electric pump mounted in the back next to the gas tank, and it would occasionally stop running. We tracked that problem down to this circuit breaker in the fuel pump wiring. It was installed near the hood panel gap and would get doused with water each time it rained or when we washed the car. Obviously, it’s not designed to get wet, so we replaced it with a waterproof inline fuse. The fuel pump has been happily humming along since then.

Most recently, we ditched the stock 14-inch steel wheels for these 15-inch wheels from Rock Auto. They were an optional for 3rd Gen Firebirds for a few years, and we especially like them because they look similar to the hubcaps that came with the car. Rock Auto sells them for a great price, too.

Lucky Costa’s Chevelle and Fury

You all know Lucky as the enigmatic co-host of Hot Rod Garage, which you can watch at MotorTrendOnDemand.com We recently featured Lucky’s 1966 Chevelle on our July 2017 cover, and his 1966 Plymouth Fury wagon can be seen getting an Vintage Air system installed in this issue. We will continue to work with Lucky on these two cars, and anything else he happens to be working on that we find interesting.

With a used 6.0L and T56, line lock, and a heavy right foot, Lucky’s 1966 Chevelle is a ready-made burnout machine. Holley EFI and overdrive makes it a capable daily driver. We will soon be adding a Glasstek fiberglass hood, new Hooker exhaust, and freshening up the drivetrain, which will likely involve a cam change, and new cylinder heads.

A stroked big block under the hood means Lucky’s other car is also a legit burnout machine, and he’s easily coaxed into demonstrating that fact. Read how we chilled out with a new air conditioning system elsewhere in this issue, and stay tuned for some other upgrades. We’ve got sound deadening and heat shield from DEI to install soon, fuel system upgrades, possibly an EFI conversion, and definately more burnouts.

Mike Musto’s 1972 Monte Carlo

You know him as the host of House of Muscle on the MotorTrend channel. This is Mike’s daily driver: a 1972 Monte Carlo he found buried in the back of a radiator and A/C repair shop in San Raphael, California. It’s in great shape except for the fact that it burns oil like a diesel locomotive. We will be fixing that problem then addressing a few other items to make this a modern-running daily driver. Watch for a video series accompanying this build on House of Muscle’s YouTube channel.

To establish a baseline, Mike ran the car down the dragstrip at Sonoma Raceway, where it rocketed to a breathtaking 17.896 at 74.85 mph. On the chassis dyno the next day, it churned out 162 hp and 228 lb-ft of torque at the wheels. It’s all uphill from here, folks!

Chevrolet Performance answered the call for help with this SP383 crate engine. We ran the engine at Westech a recently, and it impressed us with a stout 446 hp and 448 lb-ft of torque, more than double what Mike’s tired 350 is making right now. We will back the small block with a Gear Star TH200 4R transmission, and outfit it with Holley’s Sniper EFI and Patriot headers. Between the overdrive transmission and fuel injection, Mike will have a modern-running drivetrain that lives for road trips and return gas mileage substantially better than the 10 mpg he’s currently averaging.

Mike will do the drivetrain swap with some friends at the home of the flying terriers, Jack Dick Customs in Martinez, California. That’s owner / car builder Ben McCoy and his two mutts.

The CC/Underbird

Who actually likes the Fox-body-era Thunderbirds, anyway? Well, regular contributor John Gatliff does, and so do we, or else we wouldn’t have given him the go-ahead. John’s been plugging away at the Underbird, most recently sussing out a cobbled-together big-brake kit, and ultimately lamenting the fact that it may have been easier and more cost-effective to just have bought one in the first place. Like tech editor Steve Magnante likes to say, “We live this way so you don’t have to.”

Not something you see everyday- these are C5 Corvette brakes on a Fox-body Thunderbird. We show you how to do that and why it’s sometimes better to buy a kit.

The EcoBoost Mustang

Contributor Jason Sands bought a new Mustang and actually skipped past the V8 models for the turbocharged four-cylinder model. We took that as an opportunity to dive into some late model tuning experiments with different octane gasoline, from 87 all the way up to116 octane race gas, backing it up with plenty of time at the dragstrip. We’re testing the limits of the stock turbocharger, before upgrading it and really turning up the boost.

There’s a turbocharger somewhere in there. We’ll probably replace it with a bigger one soon.

CC/Olds

This is one project that’s been languishing while we’ve been focusing on the C10 and Malibu. We discovered our time-capsule drag racing Cutlass has a bent pushrod and a bent valve. We will be freeing ourselves up to fix this soon and get the Cutlass back on track.

Project ZedSled

We’re nearing the completion of this build, contributor Kevin Tetz’s 1978 Camaro Z28. Over the last two years it’s undergone a complete transformation from rust bucket to road-tripping show car. It was on display at the SEMA show last year and Kevin just took it on the last leg of the Hot Rod Power Tour. We’ll finish out the series with articles on some interior upgrades, installing a new fiberglass front end, and a custom-built twin turbo set-up to send the project off with a bang!

Get online Catch up with all our projects online at CarCraft.com, and follow us on Facebook for behind-the-scenes looks at the builds. Truck Norris and the Malibu even have their own Facebook pages: search CarCraftTruckNorris and CarCraftMalibu, respectively.

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