#cause the east and north east hardly receives any attention

[normalweirdoboy]

Can we next get a movie about the East Bengali genocides and their eventual exodus? That led to the Indo-Pak war of 1971 and immigrant crisis in the Eastern states which still causes bitter feelings between natives and migrants?

[bopinion]

2021 / 36

Aperçu of the Week:

"Most people are unhappy because they demand too much from happiness. Ambition is the greatest enemy of happiness, because it makes you blind."

Jean-Paul Belmondo, French film legend (1933-2021)

Bad News of the Week:

Humanity can't afford climate change! Exclamation point! It's simple: the consequences of climate change that we do NOT successfully deal with are many times more expensive than actively addressing - and solving - it with commitment. And the pleasant side effect would be that we get a planet on which one can actually still live in the future. Actually, a clear win-win situation. So why does so little happen? Or often nothing at all? Two recent studies shed light on the problem:

Researchers from European and U.S. universities published an article in "Environmental Research Letter" showing that the costs of the climate crisis could be up to six times higher than previously thought: global GDP could fall by 37 percent by the end of the century due to climate change. The study puts the damage caused per ton of carbon dioxide emitted into the atmosphere at more than $3,000 - a multiple of the price per ton in the EU emissions trading scheme of 60 euros - caused, for example, by a flight from London to New York City and back.

For Germany, researchers at the Agora think tank and the University of Mannheim, commissioned by the Forum New Economy, get more specific: The federal, state and local governments are not investing nearly enough to achieve the climate targets currently officially declared. Based on current budget plans, the financing gap until 2030 alone amounts to 460 billion euros - for example, for the expansion of the public rail network and local transport or energy-related renovations.

U.S. President Joe Biden made it clear - "Global warming is real!" - when he surveyed the damage caused by Hurricane Ida last week. He spoke of a "tipping point where we either act or we're going to be in real trouble. Our children are going to be in real trouble." Such statements are sadly lacking from Vladimir Putin or Xi Jinping. The one still sees the all-dominant economic salvation of his country in the export of fossil energy and lets inconceivably large areas of forest in Siberia burn down without doing anything. And the other, with its positioning as a production center for world trade, is responsible for incredible transport emissions (China is even the world market leader for - what feels like a German thing - potatoes!) and is currently planning or building around 400 coal-fired power plants at home and abroad, especially in Africa. Many thanks for that.

Good News of the Week:

The chaotic disengagement of the Western allies from Afghanistan also highlights a security policy problem. German politicians, like all other forces present there, have had to admit that their own room for maneuver will (have to) come to a standstill the moment the U.S. forces exit. Or, to put it another way: without the U.S., nothing (more) works militarily. Official NATO responsibilities or not. Already under Obama, the USA has withdrawn more and more from the Middle East. With the result that Syria, for example, became the geopolitical plaything of Putin and Erdogan. The former "world policeman" doesn't like that job anymore. A vacuum has been created and is growing.

But now the voices on the European stage are getting louder to fill this vacuum. For example, Manfred Weber, leader of the European People's Party (EPP) in the EU Parliament (the largest group and rallying point of all conservative parties in the EU), called yesterday for a military emancipation of the European Union: "Belarus, Ukraine, North Africa, the Middle East - the Americans will not solve these problems for us. We must now finally take responsibility and act independently." Specifically, the first thing he envisions is a European rapid reaction force. "We have hundreds of thousands of soldiers under arms. We don't have a problem with the mass, but with the capabilities and structures. We can't manage to secure the airport in Kabul. It's a question of will, of command and enforcement," Weber elaborates in an interview.

That makes sense. And it is realistic. Otherwise, global chaos will flourish. After all, the international threat to global security from terrorist forces has increased rather than decreased in the twenty years since 9/11. And there are more than enough failed states destabilizing their respective regions. And the alternatives to NATO - especially China and Russia - act for their own geopolitical benefit, not to create or secure peace, freedom and democracy. This is precisely what the EU should actually be able to do even better than the United States. For in European foreign and security policy, the development of technical and logistical infrastructure, easily accessible education and health care, an efficient security apparatus, a free judiciary and press, etc., traditionally play not only the supporting role of accompanying measures but are the focus of attention.

Our idea of democracy is thus not imposed, but is given a fertile breeding ground on which it can more easily emerge. Because its meaning and purpose becomes obvious. And incidentally, it also benefits Europe itself, keyword "reduction of causes of flight". Here, too, the old continent has a vested interest in itself. After all, you can cross the Mediterranean with a small boat that has been painstakingly patched together - but certainly not the Atlantic.

Personal happy moment of the week:

The day before yesterday we received the information for the new school year starting the day after tomorrow. For a long time it was feared - because children cannot be vaccinated yet and teenagers only recently, the progress of digitalization is still lame, the fourth wave is here, hardly any classrooms have air filtration systems and much more - that it could be the third "Corona year" in a row. But now it's official: full face-to-face instruction, all days, full class size, in all subjects (except for possible restrictions on physical education classes like swimming). Another piece of normalcy we're getting back. Nice.

I couldn't care less...

...that the international car show "IAA Mobility" in Munich, which ends today, was re-branded and even showed bicycles in two exhibition halls for the first time. As before, carmakers - now admittedly with electric drives and projects for other alternatives such as hydrogen - are concentrating on maintaining their business model of 'individual mobility". And they refuse to accept that mobility will have to be fundamentally rethought in the future. With the networking of different means of transport, sharing and on-demand models, restriction of avoidable transportation for people and, above all, goods, etc. Way to go...

As I write this...

...the summer vacations are coming to an end. And with it my own recreational time. Which actually (once again) doesn't deserve this term. So it should be easy for me to go back to work tomorrow. But still no trace of joyful anticipation. Mmmh...

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XVI

Who We Are

Trigger Warnings: Canon violence/language/drug, alcohol and gun use. Suggestive content.

Bloody Mess Warning!

Game spoilers!

Please enjoy!

 “Attention Tenpines, this is General Wraith. Captain Danse’s patrol is to hold position there. I repeat; the long patrol from Sanctuary is to remain in Tenpines until further notice! Do you read?!”

“Transmission received; however the patrol has left. Do you copy? General?”

Wraith stood frozen as her field of vision narrowed to single point to the east. The radio operator’s urgent questions growing dim then silent as the rushing, roaring reverberations of fear and rage filled her ears.

“General?”

 Infamy was frustrated.

The plan had been to take out the largest of the two adults then set the herd on the other while Atom’s Assassin made short work of the child. A swift and easy kill, it would allow them to move on to MacCready and minimalize the loss of the ferals.

Infamy was misinformed.

Expertly trained, Shaun was far and away from an easy kill. Ignoring the cut on his hand, his priority was helping MacCready. But before he could, Shaun decided that the glowing one, leering and taunting before him, needed to be dealt with first.

Rad-X… need Rad-X…

Normally while facing an opponent, Infamy could tune into visual cues that would allow them to predict when and where the next attack would come. But there was something different about this child; his whole presence suddenly changed to what could only be described as absolute stillness.

Infamy was intrigued.

The ghoul charged him as soon as Shaun reached for the chem pocket on his bandolier. Allowing the glowing one to close the distance he deflected their blade and twisted away trying to trip them as they passed. Just as the weapons came together, his opponent sent a small burst of radiation down their arm, directly into his face.

When the child dropped to the ground, his Pip-boy Geiger counter ticking wildly, Infamy had a passing notion that this might be a short fight after all. Triumph turned to dismay as Shaun slashed their ankle in an attempt to sever their Achilles tendon. Rolling a few feet away then vaulting back to his feet, the youth turned back to Infamy, his face expressionless.  

“Back where we started? Is that what you think? Won round two?! Oh very good, little boy. But, mine will heal in a blink… your irradiated wound will take much, much longer though. Hmm? Yes, that’s right; poison, poison, poison. Hehe.”

A sudden, agonized scream from the cliffside indicated Dogmeat had found Danse’s shooter and the ferals were beginning to dwindling as MacCready overcame them.

Infamy was in trouble.

In the space of a blink Shaun flicked his wrist and a small throwing knife flew toward the ghoul. Using the distraction he dashed to his fallen rifle. Rather than stoop to retrieve it, he hooked the strap with his boot and spun it up his body while simultaneously sheathing his bayonet; turning and firing twice into Infamy’s central mass as soon as the weapon was in his hands.

Answering an unspoken call, the few remaining ferals disengaged from MacCready and sprinted to the assassin.  The glowing one, who had been hunched over the wounds on their torso, suddenly lifted their head and threw back their shoulders, casting out an enormous blast of radiation. Pushed to the ground, Shaun was unable to fire again and the collective escaped into the brush. Staggering to his feet, he prepared to pursue, but MacCready’s call stopped him.

“Shaun! RadAway, NOW!”

His vision blurred, he fumbled with the snaps, “I… don’t… are you…”

MacCready screaming his name was the last thing he heard before the dirt rushed up to meet him and the world turned to black.    

  He couldn’t see.

Pain. So, so much pain. Breathing hurts… where? What happened to me? What was I doing?

He couldn’t feel his leg.

Is it gone?! No… it’s underneath… I can feel blood… Why CAN’T I SEE?!

All he could hear was ringing.

If I call, will anyone hear me? I think… need… a medic. I… I need…

“Elder Maxson… Arthur? Haylen! Rhys! Are you there?!”

Where is my armor?! Am I still on the Prydwen? Did… did she fall?!

“Can anyone hear me?! I… I need help… please…”

  “Open your eyes for me, kiddo.”

MacCready’s voice seemed far away.

“Please, buddy.”

“RJ… you’re squeezing my hand too tight.”

Shaun could feel strong arms gently embrace him and then soft shaking as MacCready’s fear was broadcast through his touch.

“You scared me half to death, kid.”

“Danse!” Lurching to his feet, Shaun lost his balance and had to rest against MacCready, “Ugh, it’s so dark. How long was I out? We have to go look for him!”

“You took a pretty heavy, direct hit. You’ve been out for almost an hour.” Holding him at arm’s length, MacCready’s brow was furrowed; he knew Shaun wouldn’t like what he was about to say, “I’m taking you back to Tenpines…”

“NO!” Wrenching himself free, he pointed accusingly, “I know you don’t like him, but he’s our friend! We can’t just leave him! He needs our help! He may still be alive…”

“Or he’s not.” Shaun’s shocked and angry expression made MacCready hate himself, “I never said I was going to abandon anybody. Dogmeat will stay. You are still sick. You need help. Right now you’re alive and right in front of me. You are the priority.” He lifted his chin, “The faster we get to Tenpines the faster I’m back out here, with a Minutemen medic, looking for our friend.”

Finally noticing the pain and fatigue in MacCready’s voice, Shaun switched on his Pip-boy lamp and took a closer look at him, “OH MY GOD… YOUR EAR!”

“Ow! I can still hear out of it, ya know.”

Wraith had modded a new duster for MacCready and so in spite of being chewed and clawed at by a baker’s dozen of feral ghouls, none of his injuries were life threatening. His face had suffered some minor bruises and scratches but the thing that was really pissing him off was his ear.

“Don’t tell me how much is left… fu… frickin’ monster bit me…” Turning away from the light he set a brisk pace north, “And no, I don’t want a stimpak or gauze or… it’s fine, just let it bleed.”

Wordlessly, Shaun put the rejected aid back in his pockets and followed.

He’s… he’s such a badass!

   Wraith, Hancock and Curie were sprinting to Tenpines. Flanked by the Gáe Bulg Hounds (including Strong), all three were wearing Heavy Dragoon armor, packed to the gorget with as much heavy-duty ordinance and medical equipment as possible. Having little to no information on the size and firepower of Infamy’s force, Wraith was leaving nothing to chance. This wasn’t a time for stealth.

The Calvary was on their way.

  “MacCready, I want to find him as much as you do, but I don’t think climbing down a cliff in the dark is… safe.”

“I didn’t ask for your stupid opinion, Jesse. I told you to come over here and hold a flashlight!”

After leaving Shaun in the care of the Tenpines settlers, MacCready, the settlement’s head medic Varsha and two Minutemen ran back to Dogmeat. They found the canine sitting on the cliff’s edge, whining while looking down to where Danse had fallen.

“It’s fine, Jesse. Just do as he says.” Varsha tied a rope to a nearby tree stump, “Louie, I want the rest of the lines and the block and tackle secured from those trunks over there and we should weight test them before we climb down. Captain Danse is a large man and one way or another he’s coming back up the cliff with us. We’ll use the walkie once he’s secure.”

 MacCready froze when they reached him.

“Oh… I’m very sorry MacCready… I know you were friends.”

It didn’t seem real.

“I’d understand if you don’t want to help me, but if you wouldn’t mind keeping your flashlight on…”

“He’s not dead.”

“MacCready… he… look at him…”

“He. Is. Alive.”

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Danse’s chest rose and fell as he breathed.

“Well, holy shit!”

  Curie practically flew around Tenpines’ small clinic. Setting up for surgery without the benefit of triage was frustrating her. After sanitizing her hands and the various medical equipment, for perhaps the eleventh time, she felt the tears start.

“Sacrebleu, I had best get this out of my system…”

Wraith had gone outside and was stomping around the settlement in her power armor; her laps an attempt to calm the roaring in her ears.

“Wraith… sure as yer goin’ to wear out yer core…”

“I know, Cait. I know, but the sound is very satisfying… Shaun’s lucky I haven’t been carrying him around with me…”

“Ye knowin’ that’d embarrass the shite out of him?”

“GrrrrraARRRRRAH! How could I be so stupid?!” Deciding that it was too late at night and she was being too loud, she exited the armor and waved to Strong, “This isn’t working! Come on Strong; let’s go punch some trees down.”

“ALPHA HAS THE BEST PLAN!”

  “Stop it! You stupid… How are you even awake?! Quit fighting me, man!”

Danse was partially conscious and was hindering all attempts to secure him to the backboard. As severe as his injuries were, he was still strong enough that MacCready and the medic were worried that strong-arming him might cause further damage.

“Who’s there? Where is Scribe Haylen? I have to return… Cutler… I’ll never forgive you!”

“Danse, it’s MacCready!” Wincing sympathetically, he used a boot to hold down an arm so he could secure a strap, “Snap out of it!”

Varsha frowned at his tactics, “Easy! He’s concussed and delirious…”

“I could see his stupid SKULL; I KNOW HE’S…”

“For fuck’s sake, stop yelling! Though I doubt he can hear you… or see you…”

Hardly daring to believe it, MacCready passed his flashlight back and forth in front of Danse’s eyes. There was no discernable reaction. Staring hard at the blood stain, which grew ever larger, on the bandages wrapped around the large man’s head, his voice was a soft whisper, “Is Curie going to be able to patch a hole that big?”

Varsha took it to be a rhetorical question. Stepping back, she shown her light back up the cliff face, “We are going to need to somehow guide him up… he can’t afford any more bruises.”

“Of course I know about Elder Lyons! Get out of my face… I can’t stand the way they look at me! Why do they make me sad?!” Danse’s eyes filled with tears and he gasped as they spilled down his cheeks, “I had to kill you! Don’t you understand?! You were my brother!”

MacCready didn’t know how Danse was suffering, but he could see that it was more than physically. Shocked to feel tears of his own, he cleared his throat, “We… You should ride up with him and I’ll help pull. Keep the walkie on and you can yell at us if we’re too fast.”

Varsha shook her head, “Now that I’m looking… Grinding over the rocks… I don’t know if the ropes will hold.”

“MacCready, you there?”

“That sounded like Hancock…” Simply hearing the ghoul’s voice, crackling through the walkie-talkie, sent a wave of relief through him, “So the Calvary has arrived, huh?”

“That’s no joke! Look, I should be able to hold the pulley out away from the cliff. I’ll be a crane so we can haul up the Cap’n plus one. Case one of ya wants to guide him over bumps.”

“I’m not sure taking that much Buffout is wise, Mr. Mayor.”

“…I’m in power armor, kids. Let’s hurry it up! Chafes somethin’ terrible…”

When MacCready reached the group he couldn’t help the semi-hysterical laugh that tumbled from him, “What are you wearing?!”

Bright Nuka-Cola red with the words “Justice and Liberty for All” emblazed in gold above the Dragoon’s standard, Hancock’s power armor was a sight to behold.

“What, ya don’t like it?” Sweeping his arms out wide, he somehow managed an elegant turn, “Danse modded it just for me. Though, I don’t use it much ‘cause the… cockpit don’t cut it, ya feel me?”

“Yeah, I feel you.”

   The sun had made its way well into the sky before Curie and her medical team emerged from surgery. Weary and bloodstained, the doctor sank into a chair. With the Tenpines clinic being as small as it was Danse’s worried friends were taking turns waiting in the anteroom. Hancock was on duty and he rose from his own chair to offer her a container of water.

“So, how’s our boy doin’?”

“He is still critical. If I could, I would have him in an ICU. He will need additional blood… I was able to save his leg but mon ours will need knee-replacement surgery, much like madame and her shoulder. He has multiple broken ribs and…” Trailing off, she had brought a hand to her forehead but now held it away from her, staring at the bloodstains in horror, “These conditions are unacceptable! I need the equipment in my own surgery and I needed to have had the modified memory lounger online… The pressures on his optic nerves might abate…” Standing now, she stared at her palms while tears streamed down her face, “I cannot save him here! I cannot move him from here! I must save MON AMOUR!”

Hancock embraced her, “Stop, Baby Bird! He’s strong and so are you!” He held her tightly for a moment before easing her back to her seat. When he spoke his tone had dramatically changed from his normal gruff mean-street slang to something closer to a parent, “You are overdone right now and you need to shut your eyes and rest. Varsha has a chart on him, correct? She and I will monitor him. Wraith and Shaun will hold his hands. There are people here who love you both and will be here the whole time to help you.” He waited until she nodded, “Rest now, fight again later.”

  Despite the risks involved it was clear that Danse would have to be moved to Sanctuary. The settlement brahmin were sweet and docile but neither were trained wear a harness, let alone to pull a cart. And while Wraith was certain she was strong enough to carry him, his bulk would be awkward for her to hold over the distance. While Wraith redressed MacCready’s ear wound, Shaun brainstormed with her on something that the more adaptable mutant hounds could pull.

“Their saddles don’t have the right… parts.” Shaun was hung-up on the idea that it had to be a wheeled vehicle, “He needs to ride as level and steady as possible.”

“OW! Wraith, I’m begging you, please stop!”

“Mac, if you’d stop pulling away from me… What about the power armor? Maybe…”

“STRONG WILL CARRY METAL MAN!”

Surprisingly, they hadn’t noticed the super mutants approach and so there was a collective flinch. Struck dumb, the group stared at him wordlessly.

“HUMANS BROKEN?!”

“Sorry Strong, ol’ buddy, just didn’t expect you to volunteer.”

“Don’t like it here. NO FIGHT! STRONG TAKE METAL MAN, THEN STRONG CAN GO BACK TO ROCKET AND WORK WITH BEAR-GHOUL.” He nodded to himself as if it was a unanimous decision.

“It might be too bumpy a ride, Strong.”

“ALPHA TRUST STRONG.” He drew his hand through the air in a steady line, “Strong smooth.”

“I think I might have lived my whole life just to hear that.”

“Mac…”

  Strong indeed had the capacity for smoothness and the journey back to Sanctuary was nerve-wracking but ultimately uneventful. Wraith had sent a plea for assistance to Dr. Amari over Radio Freedom even before the group had left. And after returning, she arranged for the doctor’s escort, set about establishing contact with all emergency Minutemen patrols and went through a settlement radio check-in.  

Islode was sympathetic, but had no more insight that was particularly helpful, “General, I have told you all that I know. Please allow me to return to my people.”

“I can only assume that she or they are watching the roads.” Wraith was grim, “Watching and waiting. You step one foot outside Sanctuary and you’re toast.”

“I have to believe she wouldn’t kill me. My own daughter…”

“So she has been acting in a manner that is completely normal for her then?” Dropping the diplomatic and formal tone, Wraith was sarcastic, “Totally sane and not fanatical or psychotic at all. Right. She’s predictable based off of past behavior.”

“You have every right to your wrath and your mistrust, but what is the point of keeping me here? If she were to kill me, then what would be the determent to you?”

“What… Islode, I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I am not a conqueror!” Rising from her office chair, she swept an arm through the air, “This is not my throne room. This is my office in my home. The Children are my neighbors. I am trying to cultivate a peaceful relationship with them and you are key to that process.”

“Holding me prisoner isn’t very peaceful.”

Arms falling to her side, she lowered herself slowly back to her seat, her green eyes twin lasers aimed directly at Islode’s, “Nor were the attacks on Kingsport Lighthouse.” Leaning back, she allowed her gaze to soften, “I don’t want you to die Mother Islode. I care about you as a person. You may leave any time that you wish, but you will have an armed escort.”

“I fear then that after you, Infamy will be set upon me and all potential for peace will have been shattered regardless.”

“Then I won’t let them get past me.”

  All of her busy work was meant to take Wraith’s mind off the fact that in addition to the constant threat of attack; Danse had not woken up since Curie had administered the pre-op anesthetic.

“With Sturges’s assistance, I should have the lounger modified and we will get some nice images of Captain Danse’s brain soon.” Amari smiled and patted Curie’s shoulder, “His vitals are remarkably good, considering all he’s been through! He is breathing on his own and appears to have maintained limb sensitivity… You and he have both done very well, Dr. Curie.”

“Merci beaucoup, Dr. Amari. I…” Swallowing back tears, she lifted her chin, “We will not give up. We will fight.”

“If there is anything else you need Baby Bird…”

Sagging into her office chair, Curie placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes, “I feel that I am tied into knots! There are items that I was going to request of you before… They would have been useful now, but I cannot ask you to…”

“Ask! Please! I can’t help Danse directly like you can and I’m going bonkers; I’ve already re-organized my re-organizing and also double-checked my already-organized task lists and check lists!”

Laughing, Curie shook her head, “There is a difference between task lists and check lists?”

“I have to check-off my tasks, don’t I?”

Rising from her chair, she held her arms out for a hug, “Oh Madame, thank you for that.”

Wraith gently patted her back, “I’m glad I could make you laugh. In all seriousness though, what can I get for you?”    

“I need a GC/MS, LC/MS/MS, HPLC a FID or even a GCD.”

“That’s… a lot of letters…”

“I have Institute technologies and a Biometric scanner that aid me in many, many things but data for therapeutic reference ranges… The research I am doing on new medications would be greatly enhanced by these machines.” She held out her hand, asking for Wraith’s Pip-boy, “I can give you a list and mark possible locations on your map.”

“Couldn’t I just, pick them up from your old lab?”

“Most of the remaining data and equipment in Dr. Collins’s lab has been scrapped by Vault Eighty-one’s residents. I had some of my students look into it a little while ago and I had hoped to have assistance from Dr. Cabot and Doctor… Virgil…”

“I should’ve helped you with that…”

“Madame has not spent all her time and efforts training us, either directly or securing teachers for us, to still do everything for us.” Realizing the irony of her words even as she handed Wraith back the Pip-boy, she frowned and sat motionless for a second, “Oh…”

“No take backs, Curie”

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t beat them, grandma!”

Wraith was having Shaun help her get gear together to give him another opportunity to vent. She felt bad that she was leaving and wanted to give him as much one-on-one time as possible before she did.

“There is nothing to be sorry about! I know that you’re frustrated but please believe me when I say that you did a… awesome job fighting them off.” She grabbed his arms and gave him a gentle shake, “MacCready says that you were incredible!”

“Yeah, well, not incredible and awesome enough to help Captain Danse… or you.” He stuck his lip out, “I want to contribute! I want… to be a valuable team member.”

“Oh, honey.” She wrapped her arms around him, “Of course you helped us! You were able to fight off a assassin which gave Mac time to get free of the ferals. If… WHEN, we save Danse it’ll be because you fought for us.”

Burying his face into her embrace, his sullen reply was muffled, “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not. You should be proud at how… multifaceted you are. You are a competent fighter as well as an engineer. You contribute! Just… hold off on being a warrior for a little while yet. At least until you’re taller than me.”

 MacCready elected to stay in Sanctuary, explaining, rather unnecessarily, that he wanted to watch over his son. Although, Wraith had a suspicion that, due to how much time he spent walking past the clinic, he was also harboring feelings of guilt over Danse’s condition.

“Turrets, Minutemen, the Hounds, Dogmeat, Panther and Lloyd are fine and all, but there’s nothin’ quite as good as me.”

“And so modest too…”

“Hey man, I’m just stating the obvious.” A brief flash of doubt crossed his face and he hurried to cover it by turning from Hancock and kissing Wraith goodbye, “Where exactly are you two going anyway?”

The ghoul noticed his consternation, “No worries, MacCready. We are going to pop over to Med-Tek, maybe Medford Memorial and be back before you have to trim yer goatee!”

He favored him with a dramatic eye-roll before giving him a kiss as well, “Who’s worried? It’s not like every time she’s out of my sights, disaster falls.”

“Hey now! I’m not… that’s not… accurate…” Hands on her hips, she stuck her tongue out at him, “I don’t always get hurt!”

“I didn’t say the disasters befall you.”

“’Befall’, huh? Fancy.”

“I thought you’d appreciate.”

She extended her middle finger behind her as she turned away, “Love you.”

   Med-Tek was a surprising bust. Most of the equipment had been smashed either by the ferals or the slowly decomposing building. And although they were able to acquire some hardware components with the idea that Curie may be able to build the devices herself, there were no whole, undamaged machines.

“I really thought that we’d find everything here.” Failing to mask her frustration she kicked at a block of fallen debris, “I was itching to be out doing something, but now I’m anxious being away.”

“I know what you mean… not exactly a fun adventure this time.”

Wraith was elbow deep in the ruins of a machine a few moments later but turned her head to look at Hancock when she heard odd crunching and smacking sounds, “Are you feeding them?!”

“Yeah, they keep looking at me like their beggin’.”

“What are you feeding them?”

“Just some Crisps…”

As they had fought their way through the facility, as would sometimes happen near Wraith, three of the feral ghouls had come to their aid and subsequently followed them through the building to the research lab. Hancock had dubbed the trio Larry, Moe and Curly. Wraith shook her head as he tossed them another handful. He reminded her of an old man, sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” She came to flop into a chair next to him, suddenly sad and tired, “You have to make sure everyone gets fed.”

“I gotta be me… I can’t be right for somebody else, if I’m not right for me, I gotta be free, I’ve gotta be free.”

After turning himself into a ghoul, Hancock’s voice had changed and it troubled him deeply. For a time his singing hobby was shelved and it wasn’t until he began traveling with Wraith that he felt the compulsion again. She admitted that she had no frame of reference but assured him that despite its growling edge, his voice was remarkably compelling. On those rare occasions that he did sing now, his newfound joy was in her enjoyment.

“Heh, look. The Stooges like my howling too.”

All three of the ferals had stopped shoveling Crisps into their faces and were sitting at rapt attention.

“Maybe we’ll start a band…”

Wraith chuckled, kissed his cheek and went back to looking for parts, “Medford has extensive labs that were surprisingly intact the last time I was there but they have something I really don’t want to deal with.”

“Mutants… I thought you cleared ‘em out for Garvey.”

“I have. Twice.” She casually flipped over a filing cabinet, “Last reports have a new batch that have set-up there.” She twirled her wrist, “Just how Mac and I cleared all the ferals here, yet here we are lighter in ammo and heavy in gore.”

“And richer in friends.”

“Oh, noooo. I’m sorry but those three will have to stay here.” She was surprised that Hancock actually looked sad, “It’ll be safer… for them.”

“Have you given any more thought to this Mother’s Favored One bit?”

“Any more thought?” Her tone was harsh, “How about none?”

“None thought, huh?” He gestured to the ferals, “You appear to have more clout with my cousins than most.”

“As you said, I gotta be me. And that ain’t me.”

“How about that… you being… being my wife bit?” His voice was soft and fearful.

Abandoning the rubble, Wraith moved to Hancock and bent at the waist with her hands on her knees so she could look directly into his eyes, “Did you just purpose to me?”

“I… dunno… I’ve… I can’t get free of what mom Atom said.” The normally brash and brazen ghoul was humble, “Would you? I mean, I understand if you don’t wanna put labels on it.” His laugh was forced, “Heh, I know you and MacCready‘ve been married before so…”

“All I know is that I love you both dearly. We should talk to Mac, but I honestly don’t think he’d object. If you want to get married then… let’s do it!”

The joy on Hancock’s face made Wraith’s heart hurt. Both teared up as he stood and swept her into his arms. He twirled her around before the two settled into a deeply passionate kiss. They soon broke it off when they noticed the ghoul trio had shuffled closer. It was almost as if the ferals thought they might have to intervene on Wraith’s behalf.  

“Can we have a big party? Like Nicky?”

“Sure, Hancock. Big party.”

“Invite everybody?”

“Sure; everyone we know.”

“So… the Stooges…”

“No, Hancock.”

   “… send them some aid?”

Deacon wasn’t listening. Recently, a synth had passed through Underworld who looked so much like Wraith that it had twisted his insides and fogged his mind. Even now, during an important meeting, as soon as her name came up, his mind went someplace else. Back to when he first realized he was in trouble. Back when his greatest lie was that he hadn’t fallen in love with her.

They had stopped in an abandoned house between Railroad missions and Wraith was making them dinner. She had her Pip-Boy tuned to Diamond City Radio and was humming along; off-key of course. She had removed her heavy armor pieces and was in long john pants and a t-shirt. He had gently ribbed her on the quality of her performance, but instead of getting mad she had smiled at him and began dancing and singing to the ladle as if it were a microphone.

He was utterly entranced.

I don’t want us to just be… this. I want to dance with her. I want to… I want to make love to her and hold her in my arms after.

“Harley!” Nyx made a grab for his sunglasses, “Are you asleep? Please fucking pay attention!”

“Sorry, Boss.” Evading her swipe, he leaned back in his office chair and brought his arms up behind his head in a big, fake stretch, “I’m really tired. Fawkes and me have been practicing our synchronized swimming routine… huge competition coming up…”

Nyx’s mouth twisted in an attempt to hide a smile triggered by the ridiculous image her brain concocted, “Not funny. What’s the last thing you heard?”

“Uh…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Oh my fucking… To recap; we have reports that Infamy has been hired to attack Minutemen settlements. So far there has been minimal damage, however…”

“The General can take care of it…”

“However…” Nyx’s voice softened, “We have it on good authority, that Danse has been killed.”

Deacon’s insides went cold.

“With Wraith involved, there is a chance that agent Governor and the Commonwealth branch may come under threat as well. So I’ll ask again; should we send our expert on Infamy? Should we send them aid?”

“We have a Infamy expert?”

  The four super mutants milling around in front of Medford Memorial looked particularly nasty.

“I’m less then excited to engage…”

“Your report say anything that might make this easier? I’m all for runnin’ in with guns ablaze, but we don’t know how many more there are and it’s like you said, we are lower on ammo than when we started this hike.”

“Just that their alpha… Hmm…”

“Whatcha got for me?”

Wraith took Hancock by the arms, kissed him fiercely and stared into his eyes, “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely.”

To the ghoul’s utter shock Wraith popped up out of their hiding spot and marched confidently toward the enemy.

“I CHALLENGE GOREKNUCKLE FOR ALPHA!”

The reaction was shared by the mutants and they stood with mouths agape. Wraith was less than 20 feet from them when one finally managed to corral enough brain cells for a response.

“STUPID HUMAN! GONNA EAT YOU!”

“HA! WEAK MUTANT WORDS FROM… A WEAK… shit…uhhh… BLEEDER!”

To Hancock’s relief, the mutants seemed just as confused as he was and none were even reaching for their weapons. Jogging out after her, he decided he should play herald. “Not just any human; Wraith, General of the Minutemen, Wraith-the-Undying, Death-in-the-Shadow, The Fog Walker, Grinder of the Bucket Heads, Alpha of Strong, Slayer of Fist, Conqueror of Swan and Deathclaw’s Bane!”

Standing as tall as possible she set her hands on her hips and laughed maniacally, “BWAAAHAHAHAHAHA! Bring me to your alpha; if he isn’t too scared…”

Setting their brutish heads together, the group discussed whether or not it might be worth having an ear literally chewed off for granting the crazy human’s request. In the end, the general consensus was that they were bored, and this was… something. Even if they didn’t fully grasp what it was.

“STUPID HUMAN FOLLOW GUT BAG!”

 At first glance, outside of a slight yellow cast to his skin, Goreknuckle seemed much like any other super mutant. But his eyes held intelligence and his voice was relatively soft, “THIS IS STRANGE, HUMAN. IT’S NOT SMART TO COME HERE. BROTHERS SAY YOU CHALLENGE ME FOR ALPHA. THAT’S STUPID.”

“So, you don’t accept? Afraid I’d win?” Wraith folded her arms to hide her shaking hands, “I don’t blame you; I’m really scary.”

The alpha’s sudden, bombastic laughed surprised them all, “HA! YOU’RE FUNNY. OKAY, STUPID HUMAN. I WILL LET YOU CHALLENGE ME.” He gave her a sly smile, “WE ARM WRESTLE!”

“Perfect… except my forearm isn’t long enough. How about a thumb war instead?”

“Uhhh, Alpha Wraith? Quick word?”

Wraith let the ghoul lead her away from the group, “Problem?”

His eyes briefly narrowed as his head twitched sideways, “You seriously gonna wrestle a green skin?”

“Strong has never beaten me.”

Hancock’s dark eyes widened and then he flashed her a sultry smile, “I want you so bad right now.”

“Not in front of the mutants, dear.”

 The battle was to take place in the operating theater so that the entire pack could watch as their mighty alpha crushed a puny, stupid human in an epic… children’s game. Wraith suggested the venue to count the packs numbers. She was happy to see they only had 7 mutants counting Goreknuckle.

She could work with that.

The dramatic contrast of size as the combatants squared up was as comical as the contest itself. Sitting cross-legged on the surgical table, Wraith appeared calm and unconcerned as a seated Goreknuckle loomed over her.

Hancock and Gut Bag stood behind their respective alphas and made threating gestures at each other.

“Do you know the rules?”

“GOREKNUCKLE KNOWS.”

“Winner is alpha.”

“GOREKNUCKLE KNOWS!”

“Say it. Unless you’re too… yellow.”

“GRRRAHHHHHHAAAA! WINNER IS ALPHA OF GOREKNUCKLE PACK!”

“Oh! Hey, can you count? Cause we’re supposed to chant…”

“GOREKNUCKLE KNOWS!”

Wraith pinned him in a half second.

It was so shockingly anticlimactic that the entire room went completely silent.

As intelligent as he was, the alpha quickly degenerated into a wild beast and “broke the rules” by roaring in Wraith’s face and attempting to shake himself free. When he found he couldn’t move his arm he brought his other to bear, swinging it about in a ferocious punch. Jumping slightly, Wraith caught his forearm between her legs and rolled, twisting his limbs together painfully and locking them with her knees. Remembering that he could stand up, the alpha brought his arms and Wraith high into the air before smashing them onto the steel table.

Hancock flinched, “You okay?! That one looked like it stung…”

Wraith snarled in response before twisting herself free, ripping the alpha’s arms clean off as she did.

Goreknuckle was not unlike a lawn sprinkler as he spun away; a great spray of blood coating his fellow pack-mates who had the unfortunate luck of sitting in the splash zone.

Wraith roared at the mutants triumphantly, bringing the disembodied arms above her head and waving them around like pennants at a ball game, “GRRRAAHAAAAA! I am your ALPHA! You are the Pack of the Wraith now!”

It only took a second for the mutants’ eyes to shift from disbelief to murder.

An expert at reading an audience, Hancock tossed a grenade into the seats. After a couple of clean-up shots with his shotgun the room was secure. Wraith was still on the table when he circled back around; staring at Goreknuckle who remained standing even after death.

“He’s like a Venus de Milo…”  

Hancock laughed, “You okay?”

“I hurt my butt.”

“HA! It’s just like MacCready said; disaster! You want some Med-X?”

“Yes please.”

Hancock helped her down and passed her the chem, “What would you have done if they’d gone for it?”

“I’m sure I would have thought of something… they could have helped us today; Curie also needs nitrogen and helium tanks to run her alphabet machines.”

“Oh, I see how it is! It’s perfectly fine for you to bring six super mutants home, but I’m not even allowed three small feral ghouls!”

Wraith giggled, “Can you imagine… us coming back with… No, I knew it wasn’t going to work. I took me a long while to earn Strong’s respect. And he’s more receptive to new ideas than most mutants I’ve met.”

“So you saw seven super mutants and thought ‘I can take ‘em’?” Hancock wrapped his arms around her, gore and all, “And people call me a monster.”

“I gotta be me.”

Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my Wraith in the Ruins tag for the story link-tree. If you have any questions/comments/concerns please feel free to send me an ask. Anon too. More to come =^..^=

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part I - Chapter 4) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

“Dallon, would you like to do the honors?”

The holographic face of the techie lit up at Brendon’s offer, and he gave a huge grin and enthusiastic nod in response.

“Hell yeah! Okay, so…” Dallon rubbed his hands together before furiously typing on his keyboard, once again delivering virtual pockets of information to his colleagues on the other side, “First up on the hit list is Jack of Hearts. He was involved in a scuffle with Corporation a few years ago after they killed his father for his invention – ‘Zero Fluid’ – during which he was accidently doused with it and developed superpowers.”

“Who’re they sending after him?” Dean queried, pursing his lips and tilting his head down as he took a stand in front of the hologram.

A photograph of a bulky man clad in a green suit gripping onto some form of a hang-glider appeared next to Dallon’s face.

“Night Flyer. He’s a hit man slash mercenary who is also in a weird symbiotic relationship with his hang-glider. I know; that was my reaction, too,” Dallon informed as he saw the men’s faces contort in disgust, “Anyway, he’s a kind of… I guess you could call him a ‘realistic humanoid artificial assassin’.”

Roman let out a low whistle and folded his arms as he tossed a taunting smirk at Dallon. “Wow, Weekes. You come up with that all by yourself?”

A snigger was traded between The Hounds while Dallon simply gave a sarcastic laugh in response before bringing things back to the important topic.

“Jack lives in New Jersey, so travelling won’t be an issue,” Dallon informed, relaxing back into his swivel-chair and twirling a pen in his right hand, gesturing with the left, “Which is a really good thing, ‘cause you only have eight hours in which to prepare for this. K, bye.”

The holographic representation of Dallon disappeared before anyone had a chance to respond to his last comment, leaving five out of the six men groaning in protest.

“Okay, so what now? Anyone have any plans they wanna share?” Spalding arched his brows and leaned with his palms flat on the tabletop, focusing on The Architect with a hopeful expression, “Rollins?”

“We hardly know anything about this Night Flyer guy,” Seth scrunched his face and held his hands up, taking a few steps back to indicate that he didn’t have any brilliant plans to share at present, “I’m gonna need a little more time to come up with something that could work.”

“Yeah but time is not something we have,” Brendon interjected with slight agitation, squinting his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair. After a few moments of contemplative silence hovering over the room, the agent paced the length of the room so that he was in front of all of his allies before offering a solution. “Look, if we’re gonna do this – if we’re gonna infiltrate all of these missions – we need to have a solid game plan. Like I said, time is not on our side, here, so we can’t afford to lose any of it by outlining plan after plan after plan. We need to create one and then just run with it.”

“A master plan,” Roman put a name to Brendon’s thought, nodding before frowning slightly, “Won’t it make us predictable, though? Corporation could pick up on our attack pattern.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Brendon admitted, straightening up and half-heartedly gesturing at the middle of the room with his hand, “But Weekes is going to make sure we’re invisible until I tell him otherwise. That’ll at least buy us some time and throw them off trail a little bit. Besides, there’s only three extractions listed at the moment – I rate we can run through it with no problems.”

Brendon began walking over to the armoury on the other side of the open-plan control floor. Spalding’s eyes tracked the agent in an awe-filled gaze as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Must be nice to be that confident all the time,” the doctor mumbled to Aaron, sure that no one else could hear him.

“Has its moments,” Brendon replied coolly, starling the doctor a little.

Spalding sharply turned his head to toss his best friend an incredulous look and slowly mouthed the word ‘superhero’. Aaron smiled gently.

“So,” Dean cocked his head up at Brendon when he returned, carrying a hoard of different weapons and gear, “What’s the plan of attack, boss?”

A tiny grunt moved past Brendon’s lips as he heaved the equipment onto the table that the group was huddled around. He shrugged before answering The Lunatic’s question.

“Simple…”

✧ ✧ ✧

Approximately eight hours later. Jack’s apartment, New Jersey.

“Hounds,” Brendon’s voiced crackled through the comms, reaching the ears of the three agents as they stalked down the alleyway next to the apartment block, “I need you in position.”

“We’ve got you covered,” Roman responded, keeping his tone as hushed and body as hunched as possible so as to remain hidden from any potential Corporation back-ups.

“Good. On my signal.”

Brendon beckoned for Aaron to follow him as he crept along the shadowy rooftop of the building on the east side of Jack’s apartment, ducking low in order to avoid any bright lights that might shine down and expose him to the occupants of all the surrounding buildings.

Aaron trailed closely behind the agent, not at all used to the inconspicuous nature under which Brendon so naturally acted; Machine Man was anything but inconspicuous. The hero stole a hasty glance in the direction of one of the adjacent streets, adjusting his binocular vision so that he could spot his best friend stationed in a car a few blocks away.

Dallon had hooked up the car’s system to all of the cameras that had a view of Jack’s apartment block to allow Spalding an all-access view to anything and everything that might happen; he was to alert the group as soon as Night Flyer appeared.

Almost precisely as the clock struck eight ‘o clock, the unmistakable silhouette of a hang-glider appeared on the screen in front of Spalding. The doctor perked up immediately, pushing his glasses back on the ridge of his nose as he fumbled with the receiver, curse words spilling from his lips as he struggled to get a grip on it.

“Brendon,” Spalding panted, eventually getting a proper hold on it, “He’s here. Just landed in the parking lot of the north-most building. He’s heading for the entrance.”

“I see him,” Brendon confirmed, ducking behind a nearby air conditioning system; Aaron followed suit, “Let me know if he brought any groupies with him.”

“Will do.”

There was a click as Spalding placed the receiver back in its place and Brendon lifted his gaze to keep it steady on the approaching Corporation agent.

“Rollins,” he called, “you’re up.”

“On it,” came The Architect’s response; his fellow Hounds parted slightly to give him way to do his run-up.

Seth took a few steps backwards, gaining a respectable distance between himself and the side of the building before sprinting forward. Using his ninja-like skillset, he used his gloved hands to grip onto the grooves of the bricked wall and began scaling it at remarkable speed.

Once he reached the fire escape halfway between the second and third floor, he launched himself off of the wall and extended his arms out to grip the edge of the steel ledge. His face twisted and a small grunt escaped his throat as he hung for a second in order to regain his equilibrium; then, the muscles in his arms bulged as he pulled himself up and onto the escape.

His breathing was slightly ragged, but the mask covering his mouth muffled the sound so that it wasn’t even audible. Looking down, he made a series of hand gestures at Dean and Roman, who nodded in response before hurrying off to carry out their obligation.

Paying careful attention not to be too loud and draw the attention of any neighbours, Seth started working on loosening the window of the bathroom he was on the outside of.

“Urie, I’m in,” he informed not a minute later, keeping his voice low as he carefully stuck one boot clad foot inside of the bathroom, getting a secure footing in the bathtub. “Ambrose and Reigns just left.”

The Architect let out a breath as he climbed out of the tub, opened the bathroom door and made his way into the living room area of the apartment, double and then triple-checking to make sure he was alone in the residence.

He pressed one finger to the comm in his ear. “We’re good to go.”

“Good, ‘cause he just entered the building,” Brendon informed, watching Night Flyer as he stepped through the revolving front door. “I’m on my way.”

The agent sucked in a deep breath as he recreated Seth’s actions from earlier – backtracking until he gained a respectable distance between himself and the edge of the roof.

“You’re planning on jumping across?” Aaron quizzed, sheer disbelief in his tone, as he surveyed Brendon’s movements.

Brendon nodded as if it were obvious. “It’s not that far. I’ve jumped bigger gaps before.”

“Of course you have,” Aaron mumbled with a sigh before shaking his head to gather himself and activate his propellers, and walked towards the edge. He turned back to Brendon. “Are you sure you don’t want some hel-“

Aaron swallowed the rest of his sentence as his eyes caught sight of Brendon’s body soaring through the air – he landed on the fire escape with a thud a couple seconds later.

Machine Man chuckled incredulously before launching himself across the way, using his propellers to hover through the night air before eventually touching down next to the agent, who was working on opening the window.

The impact of Aaron’s metal anatomy coming into contact with the steel structure created a clang of a notable volume, alerting the occupants of the apartment to the left of the escape. One of them stuck their head out of the window to investigate, but Brendon shoved Aaron through the newly opened window before ducking through it himself.

“Try to be a little softer next time, yeah?” Brendon deadpanned, forcing a smile and blithely patting Aaron on the shoulder as they started on their way down the hallway.

“You should try being made entirely of metal sometime. See how you like it,” the robot retorted, rolling his eyes as he picked up his pace to match his companion’s.

The pair rounded a corner into the section separating the west and east wings of the apartment block – a sizeable area furnished with quaint sofas and end table settings.

Jack’s apartment was three doors down the hallway to the right of them and the two hurried over, Brendon rapping his knuckles against the wood in three short successions.

The door opened a mere second later and Seth shooed Brendon and Aaron inside.

No words were uttered between the three men as they scurried into their previously designated positions. Seth turned off the lights, leaving only the main bedroom’s one on, and settled into a crouch behind the sofa.

“You know that this is probably the worst plan we’ve ever come up with, right?” The Architect sighed, voice low, “I mean, there’s literally a hundred ways this could go wrong.”

“I prefer to focus on the one way it can go right,” Brendon’s response emanated through the comms as he took his spot in the shadows of the archway between the living room and the rest of the apartment.

“I hear him,” Aaron piped up, closing his eyes so that he could focus his amplified hearing on the careful footsteps approaching down the hallway on the other side of the front door.

“Masks secure,” Brendon reminded, checking to make sure that his own one was sufficiently tightened around his mouth.

The masks were a traditional part of The Hound’s combat uniform, and were a godsend. They were multifunctional – serving as protection from all gases and other toxins, providing anonymity to whomever wore it, and establishing connections to all S.H.I.E.L.D networks.

They proved to be extremely useful now more than ever, because when the thin metal tubing slipped under the front door and began expelling halothane vapour all throughout the apartment, the three men were safe from the effects.

For a long moment, there was no sound, no movements from any of the individuals on either side of the door; then there was a rattle of the doorknob, and the door swayed open with a creak.

As soon as Night Flyer carefully shut the door and stepped into the middle of the living room, Seth was on him. With a grunt, The Architect leapt over the back of the sofa and clotheslined the villain to the ground in one suave movement, delivering a punch to his jaw for good measure.

Flyer was understandably caught off guard by the sudden attack and fumbled around as he attempted to gather himself enough to fight back. He haphazardly swung his arms about, trying to catch Seth somehow.

But the Hound was much too fast, even for the mutant, and Night Flyer ended up flat on the floor taking hit after hit to his face. Somehow, the mutant was able to steady his mind enough to dodge the next punch from Seth and catch him with a strike to the gut, causing the agent to grind his teeth and hunch over in pain; Flyer took the opportunity to wring his hands around Seth’s neck, roughly swinging the Hound off of his own body and tossing him onto the floor next to him.

Now with the upper hand, Flyer settled his knees on either side of Seth’s broad abdomen, smirking as he continued to apply pressure to the agent’s neck. Seth’s hands immediately flew to Flyer’s forearms as he tried desperately to break the strangulation hold. But before the mutant could do any real damage, he was yanked up and into the air by one of Aaron’s mechanical arms, yelping in surprise as he watched his feet leave the floor.

Aaron flicked his arm to the left and sent the Corporation employee soaring through the air and landing at the foot of one of the sofas, allowing Seth to pick himself up. The Hound’s brow furrowed as he coughed and rubbed at his neck, trying to recover from his near asphyxiation while simultaneously rushing over to aid Machine Man.

Aaron delivered a stunning supersonic blast to the chest of the mutant, causing him to growl in pain as his legs buckled underneath him and the blast rendered him temporarily paralysed.

With the enemy now neutralised, Brendon emerged from his spot in the shadows, removing his silenced-gun from the holster around his thigh, as well as a syringe from the left pocket of his black cargo pants. He took determined steps towards his target and removed the mask from his face.

“Because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you choose.” Brendon’s forehead creased ever so slightly as he looked down and cocked the gun. Lifting his head to deliver an icy glare, he held both the gun and the syringe up for the mutant to see. “What’ll it be, princess?”

“Fuck off,” Night Flyer spat, voice gruff as he tried to get over the numbness in his legs.

“Bullet it is, then.”

The stifled noise of the bullet exiting the gun chamber barely sounded throughout the room, and was followed by a much more noticeable thud as Night Flyer’s lifeless body hit the carpeted floor.

Seth made haste of looting the mutant’s body, fishing out any and all tech that Corporation could track and unforgivingly crushing it with his foot; he gathered the broken pieces to discard later. Meanwhile, Aaron rushed over to the window facing the alley Seth had previously waited in, opening it and calling for Roman and Dean over the comm.

Brendon worked on cleaning up the bullet wound in Flyer’s forehead in an attempt to minimize the amount of blood spilling onto the apartment floor. Despite the fact that he managed to stop the blood flow from Flyer’s head, the immediate vicinity of the eggshell carpet was littered with blood spatter. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared, but this wasn’t the assailant’s apartment – it was Jack’s.

Cursing under his breath, the agent hurried over to the kitchen and yanked open the cabinet under the sink, looking for anything that contained hydrogen peroxide.

“Urie,” Seth called out, huffing as he dragged the deadweight of Night Flyer over to the open window Aaron was at, “Reigns and Ambrose are here. We need to move.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brendon nervously chewed on his lip as he continued scanning the contents of the cabinet. His eyes landed on a quarter-filled bottle of Clorox, and he hurriedly grabbed it, knocking over a few other bottles in the process but not caring as he sprinted over to the affected area. “The two of you get him and yourselves out; I just need a minute to clean this shit up.”

Seth nodded even though Brendon wasn’t looking at him, before gesturing to Aaron to help hoist Flyer up and out of the window. Dean and Roman were stationed in the alley below, feet planted shoulder-width apart and arms outstretched as they prepared to catch the falling body. Between the two of them, they were able to catch it with minimal effort and once they had a grasp on it, they moved to the van they had parked adjacent to some dumpsters.

“Got him?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah,” Roman nodded and cocked his head at the van, “Get the door.”

Dean let go of Flyer’s feet and opened the door, helping Roman to get the dead mutant inside before hopping in himself.

Roman looked back and caught sight of Seth climbing his way down to safety, and Aaron using his propellers to lower himself down. The two of them sprinted over to the van, too, and scrambled into the back with Dean and the corpse.

“Where’s Urie?” Roman quizzed, worry started to seep into the psyche of the Samoan. “He needs to get out. Jack entered the building the same time Ambrose and I got back to the alley. Urie,” Roman pressed a finger to his comm and instinctively rushed forward again, “you need to get out. Now!”

“I know, I know,” Brendon answered sneeringly, gritting his teeth as he scrub scrub scrubbed the carpet, ridding it of the fowl red that had unwillingly been painted on it. He made a mental note to use the injection on the others, to avoid wasting precious time on clean up that could’ve so easily been avoided.

He seriously needed to re-evaluate his attachment to guns.

The jiggle of the front door’s doorknob caused Brendon to jump up immediately, fingers fumbling to screw the cap back on the bottle as he ran to shove it back into the cabinet and close the door.

A creak signalled that the door was opening now, and Brendon didn’t have time to think about his escape plan. All he could do was run.

And throw himself out of the window.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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[thisdaynews]

Nigeria can break up before 2023 if we remain irresponsible –Onaiyekan.

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/nigeria-can-break-up-before-2023-if-we-remain-irresponsible-onaiyekan/

Nigeria can break up before 2023 if we remain irresponsible –Onaiyekan.

Let me start by saying that the Nigerian Inter-Religious Council released a statement a few days ago on this CAMA. I read it carefully and agreed largely with the things they have said there. These include the fact that CAMA is not new. In other words, there has always been rules and regulations as well as laws on the issues that the CAMA is handling; namely financial transactions, control in terms of finances and even supervision of financial institutions, both private and public. Every country has those kinds of rules. However, the reason there is some controversy as regards this particular version, that is, CAMA 2020 is because it tried to add a few clauses to handle and deal with non-governmental organisations, charitable organisations and religious institutions; and all these are in one or two articles. It is just that it is Christian organisations that have complained the loudest about it. This is because we are probably reading what seems to us as the sweeping powers that this CAMA can put in the hands of any enthusiastic government officials in such a way that they will be controlling the internal affairs of churches.

This obviously is not acceptable to us and my own feeling is that it was probably not the intention of the lawmakers. I am sure many of them would be surprised at the reactions. Why I started with the statement of NIREC is that I believe it gave very good advice not only to those who have objections to CAMA but to any other person, including religious organisations. Here, we must not be talking simply of the churches alone. It also affects the mosques. So it is both Christians and Muslims, which is why NIREC came out with a common statement that says no law is perfect and when the law is made and you find issues with it, there are ways of seeking redress or bringing the attention of the lawmakers to the problems you have with the law. And I must say, I believe now that this is the way to go. I am particularly encouraged by the same statement made by the Vice President (Yemi Osinbajo) himself inviting or advising all those who have objections to any aspect of that law to prepare an amendment that should be taken to the National Assembly for it to correct itself.

I like to look at things from a positive point of view, particularly the public statement of the Vice President. For me, the Vice President is the government; the government is aware of all the noise and anger and the government finds it very difficult to come out and say ‘we are sorry, we made a mistake.’ Rather, they find a diplomatic and quiet way to extend an olive branch for peace, and I see the statement of the Vice President in that light.

NIREC is taking it up and I believe now that either NIREC, the Christian Association of Nigeria or even individual churches can now get their facts together by consulting their lawyers and experts. They can also gather together even members of the National Assembly who belong to their churches so that they can prepare a proper answer and amendment to this law.

One aspect of the NIREC issue I love is that we should avoid turning it into a major crisis. In my own opinion, there are still many serious issues hanging over our nation and we should try not to allow this CAMA to distract us from those issues of security and whatever they said about security in the land.

If CAMA should go ahead, do you envisage a serious crisis ahead?

What they are saying is that CAMA is a big law, part of which we object to. It is possible for the National Assembly to simply delete that. But the rest of the law is okay; let the law go on.

Recently, the President, Major General Muhammadu Buhari (retd.), said he told President Donald Trump of the United States that the killing of Christians in Nigeria was caused by cultural and not religious or ethnic factors. Do you think he was sincere?

This is what the government has been saying all along. The government has been denying that there is anything religious about the killings going on but, at least, the government must agree and has agreed that there are killings going on and whether you acknowledge that the killings affect Christians or not, those who are being killed know that there are Christians that are being killed, although I know that it is not only Christians that are being killed. The bandits in Zamfara, Katsina and Sokoto are killing largely Muslims.

The allegation that Buhari and his government are killing Christians is not new and there are many people of our country who have gone all over the world to make this complaint and maybe seeking sympathy and some kind of support. It is not President Trump alone who feels that way. I travel around a lot and it is the position of many people out there in the United States and in Europe that Christians in Nigeria are under serious persecution by Muslims. So, Trump happens to be a man who speaks very bluntly and said it that way to Mr President. In my own opinion, I think it is not fair to deny or to tell people not to complain when they are hurt. If people say, ‘we are being killed because we are Christians,’ nobody should say they shouldn’t say so, especially when they are Christians.

The Southern Kaduna crisis seems to have defied solutions. Do you think the Federal Government and Governor Nasir el-Rufai of Kaduna State have handled the matter well?

The issue has been going on for years. There are still killings and so, obviously, they have not succeeded in solving the problem. The more serious aspect is that those who are on the receiving end have it very clear in their minds that there is no intention of solving their problem. Maybe a few days ago, there were meetings again in Southern Kaduna, which are a part of the efforts to find a solution; and the solution will also depend largely on whether the governor of Kaduna really acknowledges that a different approach has to be taken. You cannot solve a problem by repeating the same things which you have been repeating. Things won’t change unless you change your attitude, policies and strategies. We are hoping that maybe this exercise of late will make a difference. The fact is that the people of Southern Kaduna feel they are being oppressed, that their rights are not being acknowledged, that they have been disarmed and left at the mercy of armed attackers who seem to come anytime they like to attack villages and kill people. Above all, many of them have been driven away not just from their farms but also from their homes, and they are living in internally displaced persons’ camps. Their villages are occupied by other people and the government is aware of this and claims that they cannot do anything about it.

What is the solution to the killings, especially of Christians?

There are two possibilities, either you allow the Christians to arm themselves as well as the attackers are armed and then face them; which means an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, or you seriously disarm those who are carrying out the killings. As it seems, those who are carrying out the killings are not being disarmed and it is not possible to convince anybody out there that armed people can be going around and the government is impotent to deal with them.

To tackle insecurity in Yorubaland, the South-West governors have set the pace for others to follow with the establishment of Amotekun Corps…(cuts in)

Again, Amotekun, in my own opinion, is a clear demonstration of the failure of the government to perform and failure of security agencies to perform their duties.

Do you support it?

For as long as the people are feeling that they are left at the mercy of uncontrolled armed attackers, it is a matter of self-defence, which is a fundamental human right.

Churches have been allowed to open in some states after the total lockdown over the COVID-19 pandemic. Do you think the government opened the churches at the right time?

I wouldn’t know what reasons each state has. The churches in those states have always remained in contact and in dialogue with the government. The bottom line is that we want to control the coronavirus. However, we have not all agreed as regards whether the churches are the culprits for the spread of the virus. It is my strong opinion that the churches have done very well in maintaining the protocols for the control of COVID-19 and, therefore, the government ought to accept the assurance that church leaders have given that they shall make sure their members are protected.

The Igbo have complained of marginalisation and there have been clamours for political parties to zone the Presidency to the South-East in 2023. Do you believe in this political arrangement?

My view is that zoning it to the South-East or anywhere is not the solution. Zoning-as a way of ensuring a sense of belonging of every part of Nigeria – is hardly a democratic way of doing things. If we end up with zoning, it is simply an admission that we have failed in democracy; that we have organised our democratic process in such a way that some people have been clearly excluded. Can we rearrange our democratic system in such a way that nobody will be excluded? When you find people asking for zoning, it is because they know that the way the rules are now, there is no way we can get anywhere. Can we change the rules so that everybody will be on the same page and on an equal basis? And if we cannot, then people will begin to insist that ‘it is about time you gave us a chance to rule’ and once we start zoning, it will never end. If the South-East wants zoning today, the next time it is going to be South-West, North-East, North-West, and so on. And at the end of the day, we will begin to ask if we are looking for a situation where we elect the best person to be president.

Some sceptics feel that with the way things are going now, Nigeria may break up in 2023. What are your fears?

It can break up even before 2023, if we continue to be irresponsible and reckless. But if all of us who believe in the future of this country, a country that will be better for our children and grandchildren, if we really work hard and try to do things in a better way and reduce violence and insist on honesty and truth, we will not only achieve the right things in 2023 but much more beyond 2023. The fact is that with the situation as it is today, the rules of the game of politics in Nigeria cannot carry us far.

The National Assembly is collecting memoranda for a constitutional review. Which aspects of the 1999 Constitution do you think should be reviewed?

The National Assembly has sent out letters calling for a constitutional review and the fact that the National Assembly is, all the time, asking for constitutional review means clearly that they realise the constitution that we have right now is not serving us well and most of our problems I believe can be traced back to the problems with the constitution itself: inconsistencies, lacunas, sometimes clear contradictions – it says one thing in one place and the opposite in the other. The result is that somebody picks one side and another picks the other and they begin to fight, both of them accusing each other. My view is that the constitution is like an old car that has too many problems such as the engine, gear box, tyres and suspension; you can repair it alright and end up with a car that you can still use for a while. But, in my own opinion, if we are serious, we should consider how we can devise a new constitution that will be the result of the consultation of Nigerians so that, finally, we can have a constitution that we can sincerely say, ‘We, the people of Nigeria, have given ourselves this constitution.’ As you know, everybody has said a sentence in our present constitution is a big lie. That constitution was not made by us Nigerians; it is the product of the military regime.

Do you believe Nigeria should be restructured?

Restructuring is just a way of talking; it means that there are things that should change in Nigeria. The word ‘restructuring’ is neither here nor there; it depends on what you mean by it. We are back again to the constitution because the constitution determines the structure of the nation and if we say the constitution needs to be changed, it means we need to restructure.

Can you briefly assess the President’s regime since it came to power in 2015 vis-à-vis the present state of the Nigerian economy?

I think even President Buhari’s government agrees that they have not achieved that objective.

Edo State was somewhat a hotbed of crisis before the election. What are your feelings about the governorship election?

My feeling is that what is happening in Edo State has been what has happened in every election in Nigeria, there is nothing special with Edo. Is it violence? In every election in Nigeria, there is violence. Is it rigging? They are going to rig there and is the Independent National Electoral Commission going to perform well? We don’t know. The INEC chairman may be sincere in his heart but can he control the thousands of people that are working for INEC? The question of rampant corruption is all over the place. Who is going to stop policemen from taking bribes from politicians to do whatever they want to do? We are in a very tough and difficult country. We just keep praying that we manage to have an election there that will be peaceful enough.

[militant-holy-knight]

Using Tragedy For Political Gain For the Nth Time.

I am torn as to whether or not I should have written a personal take on this so soon. When I woke up in Friday morning to see the news about the Christchurch terrorist attack I was alarmed. Yes, I saw the footage and yes, I read his manifesto - it was nothing short of absolutely grotesque and degenerate. Plain and simple. Make no mistake, this was an racist attack whose perpetrator is indeed a terrorist. In fact, I won’t even dignify him by referring to his name - he will simply be called henceforth the NZ terrorist. On Tumblr I shared a few articles and reblogged a few posts calling for moderation. But as I see the events further develop I can’t help but address this situation which I believe will make things worse unless if we talk about them anyway.

We don’t often get the luxury of having a mass murderer explain himself such as the Las Vegas shooter (whose motivations are still a mystery to this day and will never be explained). And while the NZ wrote an extensive manifesto and made it clear what his positions are. I’ve struggled (and I still do) on whether or not saying his manifesto should be read by people so that people can draw their own conclusions, but I’ve questioned how much he is a point he would have when the doc is filled with so much misdirection, shitposting and trolling. I’ve questioned if he really is world-traveled as he claims he is since his manifesto drips with the words of someone who never left his parents’ home and decided to go on a shooting because of death... Until I saw there is evidence he visited at least Pakistan, with video and passport to confirm it.

As far as we know, his manifesto was made to misdirect with only one thing for certain that we can assess: he wants to further cause division between the left and right and escalate the culture war. Unfortunately, many individuals have either mindlessly fallen into his trap and started heaping the blame on the wrong kind of individuals for allegedly “radicalizing” this criminal or even more insidiously, forming some sort of unholy ideological alliance with the terrorist because he knows his crimes will play into a certain course of action that he hopes they will take and they are grateful that someone did actually did it so he could use the tragedy as an convenient excuse.

A good example that comes to mind is the dictator of Turkey, Reccep Tayip Erdogan, (who is name dropped in the manifesto and who the terrorist calls for his death) blamed the attack on the “rise of Islamophobia” and went on to say the Hagia Sophia will never be a church again so long as there are Turkish people. Very typical behavior from him and to say so no surprise, but this time he is surely alarmed because the terrorist dared to paint a target on him. He is in pure hostility mode because that is how he operates. He is overly emotional, engages in divide and conquer tactics like the terrorist and makes no bones about how much he hates not just his political rivals, but also his allies too. He earns to revive the Ottoman caliphate so that he can take over the West and the Arab world. He is an absolute PR nightmare for anyone who wants to show an example of a liberal Muslim government, which Turkey used to be held up as the example the MENA countries should follow, but now is hardly any better. The only time I remembered he tried to present himself as a paragon compared - which is hard to do when you are jailing journalists and critics - except during the Jamal Khashoggi affair. For one, trying to pretend like you are a better human rights example than Saudi Arabia really isn’t that hard to achieve since they are just Islamic North Korea. For another, people have rightfully pointed out that he is full of shit and he was merely using that for personal agenda.

But Erdogan is a dictator so of course he wants his critics silenced and his opinions don’t earn any serious merit in the discussion. What really is concerning is the kind of discourse we will see in the Western world. Journalists have either consciously or not laid the blame at the feet of Donald Trump, Candace Owens, Pewdiepie, Christians, Jews, memelords, guns and others for supposedly radicalizing this individual. It’s ironic he said denounces Trump and conservatism in his manifesto, but since the public will be discouraged from reading it out of fear of radicalizing themselves, it creates an convenient opportunity they can paint a monster that must be put down.

This is dangerous not only because it validates the far-right’s concerns but also helps no one but further alienate those outside of the fight politically. Lets consider who will be marginalized if the far-left engages in a literal crusade to defend Islam by any means necessary. The first ones to get silenced would be the online memelords that post harmless memes simply because the terrorist used a lot of memes like the Remove Kebab song in his massacre footage, which has been deleted from Youtube as we speak.

Then there are historians like Iniciativa Condor, Real Crusades History and myself that are personally fascinated by the Crusades, the Reconquista and the Great Turkish War. Because the terrorist now used several references like the Battle of Tours, the Battle of Vienna, Skanderbeg, the Russo-Turkish War and many others (though ironically not Vlad the Impaler), I imagined we will be ostracized when discussing such subjects in the open out of fear of another Christchurch. In fact, I’ve been warned by personal relatives that I shouldn’t be vocal about it anymore.

And then on a more serious scale... There are critics of Islam as a religion, specially of Muslim background. Regardless if atheistic or religious, these people were already under enough scrutiny in their home countries who do everything to suppress criticism of Islam even secular societies like Indonesia and Turkey, the former in particular exploits its law Article 301 about “insulting Turkishness” which is misused to arrest dissidents. There is a former Muslim Youtuber I am subscribed, the Apostate Prophet who while deeply denouncing the attack, received messages asking if he was happy about Muslims being killed. What kind of fucked up perspective is this where criticism of Islam is equated with sanctioning the death of Muslims?

Now on the worst case of all. Consider that there is an actual epidemic of rape that liberals have turned an blind eye on Europe because it means tackling a very uncomfortable topic which goes contrary to what works in their agenda.

If what happens on Europe is bad, then its infinitely worse what is happening around the world, specially in the Middle-East where Christians are facing an actual genocide by jihadists and fundamentalists which has been going on for years now, but we have only started paying attention now that the Middle-East began to spill into the West. Furthermore, this attack will certainly result in retaliation since they have found less excuse for. Remember the Regensburg lecture by Pope Benedict when he quoted the Byzantine Emperor Manuel Palailogos for criticizing Muhammed and the entire Islamic world went apeshit with Iraq in particular killing Assyrians in retaliation as if they had anything to do with it. Just because of an controversial statement by the Pope.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not leaving the alt-righters celebrating this atrocity in their echo chambers off the hook either. I’ve seen how static /pol/ users were at seeing the footage of him shooting up innocents, advocating for more terrorist attacks to be called out, trolling users who said innocents shouldn’t be targeted or those accusing the terrorist of being a Mossad agent or a Shia Muslim. Its somewhat surprising you see: /pol/ hates Muslims too they think Jewish people are much, much worse (something which the shooter didn’t do). Hell I heard the Saudi Royal Family is in fact Jewish behind close doors. Consider these are the kind of people who are also in love with Bashar al Assad who portrays himself as the secular side of the Syrian Civil War that protects minorities when in fact this is also a ruse.

Similarly, for all their bitching about Western civilization falling, they are unsympathetic to the plight of Christians around the world because they are non-white and follow a “Semitic religion”. Not a single word about Asia Bibi being on death row, the persecution of Copts in Egypt or explosion of churches in  They have trivialized the word of genocide by comparing low birth-rates with actual fucking persecution, exiling, destruction of heritage that minorities suffer in the Middle-East. Also speaking as a Brazilian even one fascinated with Western heritage, they’d still advocate my death because I am non-white (I hate using the term “POC” because its patronizing) and they’d want us to stay in their shitty lane.

Its frustrating enough that the far-left has a monopoly on social media and journalism (this isn’t up for debate, the purge of NPC memes is evidence of that) and the internet is basically owned by them. Now imagine if they push down even harder? Or Erdogan’s comments will end up pushing someone to actually try to assassinate him (unlikely considering Kurds haven’t been pushed hard enough to consider assassinating him despite all the things they have done to their people, a foreigner will likely have even less motivation for doing so), but I don’t think that man will go down peacefully as he expects. The whole point of this massacre was to literally divide the world into left-wing and right-wing, with the shooter expecting that whites begin genociding foreigners regardless of religion (he simply chose a mosque because it was too obvious, he denounces Latinos and Indians who are majority Catholic and Hindu respectively). I’d argue that in addition to being a national socialist and a fascist, I think he is an anarchist too - because for a guy committed to such a cause, he did a lot of harm to it by killing children and filming it. Nobody sane will advocate for this, only the tiny, tiny minority in /pol/ that agree with his actions, and even they don’t have a back bone to follow his footsteps.

Everything the terrorist wanted he is getting because of the emotionally driven responses that people are making as such I call for moderation, quit the dick measuring game that you call a culture war and try to find a common ground before anything else. 

[wionews]

Opinion: Three angry men threaten Gujarat narrative

As election season heats up in Gujarat and the media awaits the final ‘masterstroke’ from the BJP President Amit Shah to quell the restive Patidars, public interest in the deeper underlying reasons for the social disquiet in the state remains limited. The media remains focused on individuals and their political moves. As Congress Vice-President Rahul Gandhi toured the state over the past few weeks, the buzz around personalities and key players has acquired greater traction.

Three angry young men Hardik Patel, Alpesh Thakore Jignesh Mevani for whom Amit Shah derisively coined the acronym HAJ, are threatening to undermine the Vibrant Gujarat narrative and hurt the BJP’s electoral performance.Though there is a good reason to believe that the BJP is resilient enough to contain the challenge, it is the attacks from the Congress on the already fraying development narrative in Gujarat, that has caused some alarm in the ruling establishment.

Hardik Patel the young man from Viramgam in North Gujarat has muddled the BJP’s developmental and Hindutva agenda by resurrecting the issue of reservation his community had once so vehemently opposed.

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Notwithstanding the angry voices of Alpesh Thakore representing OBC grievances, or Dalit activist Jignesh Mevani who first drew our attention to the atrocities against young men of his community at Una earlier this year, its Hardik Patel and the Patel Anamat Andolan Samiti (PAAS) whose voice is heard loudest. This is not without reason. Hardik Patel the young man from Viramgam in North Gujarat has muddled the BJP’s developmental and Hindutva agenda by resurrecting the issue of reservation his community had once so vehemently opposed.

Many among the Patels, however, argue that not only are Hardik’s demands for reservation in the Other Backward Class category untenable but unrepresentative. These are the voices of those Patidars who have lived up to the popular image of the community as both affluent and dominant. They are industrialists, diamond merchants, real estate developers, and of course owners of large landed properties.  With them are large sections of the Patidar diaspora too, the thousands that went out to live their dreams of prosperity in East Africa, the US, UK and later Australia.

So when a forty-thousand strong gathering filled the GMDC grounds in Ahmedabad on August 25th, 2015, most of us were in a state of utter disbelief. In all the long decade I’d lived in the city, I never saw a political rally or a march comparable in scale to the ones I’ve grown up within Kolkata. In fact, there were hardly any rallies at all. The Opposition was virtually decimated and civil society threatened and bullied into silence. So when the dramatic events of the day unfolded with the arrest of the young leader of PAAS, and the violence unleashed on his angry supporters later that night, it was evident that the there was a political churn in the state.

Gujarat model of development had rendered the reservation question redundant for all time to come.

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That the churn would come from the Patidar community, known for their unflinching loyalty to the BJP, and through the seemingly ‘unreasonable’ demand for reservations was doubly surprising.

Barring a few academics, most political commentators in the media had made us believe that the Gujarat model of development had rendered the reservation question redundant for all time to come. This was largely because it was the Patidars who spearheaded the violent anti-reservation agitations in the 1980s and had vigorously argued the case for ‘merit’ as the prime driver of Gujarat’s 'Vikas'.

So it was not clear as to why some months ago, a song curiously titled 'vikas gando thhayachhe’ roughly translated as ‘development gone crazy’ would go viral on social media and meld into the deep reserves of Patidar resentment.

For sociologists observing these developments over the longue duree, the Patidar churn is not surprising. For them what we see today are manifestations of a series of separate but inter-related social phenomena. Foremost among these are the peculiarities of the class/caste configurations that define the Patidars as a distinctive social group.

David Pocock one of the earliest anthropologists to study the community in the 1950s, described Patidars as intensely ‘hierarchical and competitive’ and drew attention to the practice of hypergamy (the drive to marry one’s daughter up) as the structuring principle of their community life. Even if the community cohered around kinship ties and common religious, sectarian or social values, he argued that the ceaseless drive to leverage power among wealthier Patidars normalised the existing inequalities within it.

Pocock studied these developments through documenting the historical process through which the Kanbi or a cultivating caste became the larger group known as Patidars in the mid-twentieth century. His study focused on the two main groups within the Kanbis, the Leva Kanbis and the Kadva kanbis.

These groups were distributed unevenly in the regions of the south, central and north Gujarat. The wealthiest among them, the Leva kanbis came from Kheda district in the fertile Charotar tract the region, lying roughly between Ahmedabad and Baroda while Kadvas resided in parts of northern and southern Gujarat.

The Kanbis, in general, were known to be skilled cultivators who lived in a spartan manner, remained committed to a strict work ethic and were the earliest to take to commercial agriculture.  They directed their spending to improvements in farming and benefited greatly from the patronage they received from the British since the mid-19th century, particularly from the positions they acquired as tax collectors and village headmen known as patels.

Sociologists have long held that the Patidar community offered unique insights into the nature of social stratification and mobility within Gujarat pointing to the fact that far from being a conservative agricultural community, the Patidars were deeply aspirational.

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The wealthier within the caste developed new practices of collective holding and sharing the produce of large tracts of fertile land. They legitimised this new landholding order through deeds known as ‘pattis’ from which the title Patidar acquired currency. They often farmed the richest areas of the village through hired farm labour of the lesser Kanbis.

Sociologists have long held that the Patidar community offered unique insights into the nature of social stratification and mobility within Gujarat pointing to the fact that far from being a conservative agricultural community, the Patidars were deeply aspirational. They moved from being agricultural labourers, to agrarian capitalists, to manufacturers and entrepreneurs. In the period between the World Wars they rose to prominence as Gandhian nationalists who drove the Kheda satyagraha under the leadership of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel.

(Disclaimer: The author writes here in a personal capacity).

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