#he might also run a protection racket for fish

[v-thinks-on]

The neighborhood black cat

[wangxianficrecs]

Pearls For a Funeral by ElDiablito_SF

Pearls For a Funeral

by ElDiablito_SF

E, 31k, wangxian

Summary:  Private investigator Wei Wuxian finds himself in a pickle when a family of rich socialites hires him to clear Lan Wangji's name after his new husband, Jin Guangshan, is found murdered during their honeymoon. Making Wei Wuxian's life more complicated is the fact that his former partner, Jiang Cheng, is the lead detective on the case. Not helping matters is the fact that it's not entirely clear that Lan Wangji did not, in fact, kill his husband. Peril is behind every corner and time is running out for our gumshoe to solve the case, save his beautiful client from death row, all while butting heads with the people closest to him.

My comments:  Oh, I had so much fun with this. I love wwx being the sassy private dick who excels at poking his nose in, and lwj dripping pearls and Chanel and mystery, lqr angry and protective of his boys, nmj dejectedly stepping back, lxc being handsome and fluff-brained, jc snarling at the bit like always. Reads like a film, so it was easy to visualize as a Hollywood Noir while reading; and after setting the scene, the story moved very fast.

Excerpt 1:  “Sir, I cannot interfere with an active police investigation.”

“Cockamamie!” Lan Qiren’s fist landed on the side table near his arm chair with a loud crack. “The police are investigating Wangji, I need you to investigate the actual killer.” Wei Wuxian inclined his head while the Admiral pulled something from the side table which Wei Wuxian quickly recognized for a checkbook. “You find the real killer, Mr. Wei, and you get that former partner of yours off my nephew’s ass,” he said as he wrote in his checkbook, avoiding Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “This is your retainer fee. We will spare no expense. It is imperative that Detective Jiang find himself a new suspect.”

Excerpt 2:  "Anyways…" Wei Wuxian could hear the long inhale of Jiang Cheng's cigarette across the phone line. "So this goon, Su Minshan, also went by Su She. Has a rap sheet a mile long for racketeering and other petty crimes. No known associates in the system that I can find so far. I'll keep digging, something's gotta shake out eventually."

"No connections to the Lans?" Wei Wuxian asked carefully.

"Worried about your boyfriend, are you?"

"Fuck off."

"A fish like Lan Wangji is a little big for your hook, ain't he?"

"It's not the size of the hook that matters, Jiang Cheng, it's how you wiggle it."

"You're such a fucking idiot, I swear."

Excerpt 3:  “As far as I recall. He wasn’t particularly memorable. Just a hanger-on. The Jins have so many, an entire army of sycophants and bootlickers. That creep who drove off a cliff? Seymour Yao? When Jin Guangshan was alive, you couldn’t have extricated that man’s head out of his ass.” [MianMian]

“Thanks for the titillating visual,” Wei Wuxian grimaced. “But this is very helpful, MianMian, you’re a treasure.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Wen Qing said, walking back up to them with a little tray of steaming tea cups. “By the way, Wei Wuxian, can Lan Wangji buy you a new tea kettle, or what? Yours is an embarrassment.”

“I’m not his kept man!”

“Actually, you are.”

“Actually, XianXian is his Uncle’s kept man,” MianMian added with a complacent grin.

“You’re both terrible and I can’t believe you have keys to my house. I’m under a sapphic assault.”

“I’ll get you the address for the Sapphic Complaint Department right away,” Wen Qing said with her usual deadpan delivery. Wei Wuxian adored his asshole friends.

noir au, case fic, 1940s san francisco, mystery, intrigue, private detective wei wuxian, rich socialite lan wangji, gumshoe wei wuxian, widower lan wangji, hurt wei wuxian, hurt/comfort, pining, humor, entertaining dialogue, getting together, falling in love, smut, sass gremlin wei wuxian, sass gremlin in a more subtle way lan wangji, mild wei wuxian whump, @jadedbirch​

(You may wish to REBLOG as a signal boost for this author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)​

[x0401x]

Hoshiai no Sora Production Notes #03

Akane Kazuki answers questions asked by the fans!

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Q.: Between traditional Japanese, Western and Chinese cuisine, what’s Maki-kun’s specialty? Also, I would like to know if there’s any cuisine that he’s good at in particular.

A.: He can generally cook anything without having a particular specialty. The reason why he often made Chinese food in the cooking scenes of the series is that Chinese food can be made in a short span. For dishes that take up time, he makes and stores them on Saturdays, then uses them for his lunch boxes.

Q.: I want to know the hobbies of all the club members!

A.: Maki has an interest in astronomy, so astronomical observation. Touma likes dinosaurs and fossils. Rintarou collects cat goods. As for Nao, fishing. In Itsuki's case, I guess it would be horror-type shooting games or the like. I feel that his older sister, Namie, likes them indiscriminately and would join him. Taiyou plays with his father using his miniature cars, which are also his hobby. Tsubasa might not have a hobby that actually seems like a hobby. Shingo watches anime with his little sister.

Q.: I want to know the reason for everyone except Maki to have joined the soft tennis club!

A.: I guess the only one who joined it because he wanted to play soft tennis was Touma. Middle schoolers in general must join some club, and many of them join clubs that they pick due to having no other option. I think that the club members of Shijou Minami also ended up gathering there because each of them had no other place to go, but as they all carry wounds that do not show on the surface and have formed a relationship where they understand one another without saying anything, it has turned into their own little place to belong.

Q.: The production of not just the soft tennis scenes, but also daily life scenes where Maki cooks and everyone eats with relish in their own way, is rather sensible, to a surprising extent. With what kind of policy did you proceed on that?

A.: What is interesting in animation is not just showy action; there is also warmth, reality and sense of presence in simple dramas, so this time, I wanted to make an anime where these things would become its charm by being portrayed sensibly. The detailed play of the cooking and daily life scenes were interesting even for me when I watched them, so I think they turned out as something that the viewers can enjoy too. This is of a higher difficulty level than flashy action, but even worldwide, I believe it is something that can only be done with Japanese animation.

Q.: At the beginning of episode 2, when Touma helped Yuuta, he was described as someone to be feared, but what was the reason for that?

A.: Because he snaps easily. He must be famous for it.

Q.: What were the words that Nakao-kun threw at Itsuki-kun on episode 3?

A.: He chose cruel words and spoke them out. Sakurai also says it during the series, but his words were meant to show that they can hurt someone. However, that terminology unfortunately seems to be forbidden from being said on TV, so during the post-recording, we decided to mute it.

Q.: Who made the lemon honey pickles that were placed on those two benches at lunch in episode 11?

A.: It was Yuuta. Yuuta was also making drinks for everyone during practice, so I think he was providing modest support while nestling close to the feelings of the club members.

Q.: I want to know what the recordings are like!

A.: The number of people was so big they could not fit inside the booth, but I could feel an unanimous enthusiasm towards series from all of them. There were also many cast members who came to me with questions even about things that were not depicted in the animation in an attempt to understand the characters’ personalities. On the other hand, when the New Year’s issue was announced, we gathered in front of the TV and made merry, and we got along well.

Q.: I want to see the floor plan of everyone’s houses!!

A.: I believe this will be included in the setting reference book, although it is just a part of it, so please look forward to that. When making the rooms, we created them after deciding on the floor plans, having in mind the daily life style of each family. I had even the parts that were not animated be made in detail, so I think I gave the settings designer a hard time. *laughs*

Q.: Were there any references to actual players or games for the soft tennis parts, such as forms and play styles?

A.: We actually went to collect data at middle school competitions in Tokyo, and used references from the practice skills of middle schooler clubs such as the ones from Seimei Academy, as well as the Lucent Cup and other such tournaments that involve influential national athletes, including their different levels of prowess.

Q.: Do all the club members know that Touma-kun likes dinosaurs and Nao-kun likes fish?

A.: They do, somehow or other. I think boys their age have their hands full with their own matters, so they do not mind other people’s tastes that much.

Q.: What kind of practice do the soft tennis club members of Shijou Minami do on rainy days?

A.: We have depicted a little bit of this in the drama CD of the second volume, so please look forward to it.

Q.: About the incident that happened in the soft tennis club five years earlier, which Sakurai-sensei knows of. Does it have anything to do with Ryouma, who was the ace back then, and his pair, as well as little Touma and Maki? I am also concerned about the clover protection charm.

A.: The story of their past is one of the things I want to write about in the future. There are also hints in each of their lines, so please try to watch the main story again.

Q.: What was the intention behind not giving a title to each episode?

A.: “Hoshiai no Sora” was written through taking cuts of those children’s lives, so we did not make any conveniences for the developments of the stories from each episode. Therefore, our intention was that the first episode was the first story and the last episode was the last story, thus we did not give them titles.

Q.: I want to know in detail the reason why the Itsuse brothers started playing soft tennis, their family structure and their school lives! (Sorry if this has already been made public...)

A.: This is part of what I want to depict in episode 13 onwards.

Q.: Why did Itsuki only give pet names to Maki and Kanako? Is there any sort of specific criteria for Itsuki’s usage of pet names?

A.: Itsuki has actually given everyone a pet name in his mind. They are peculiar nicknames fitting of a cynic person like Itsuki. He merely does not voice them because he thinks the other person will get angry if he says it to their face.

Q.: Why does Tsubasa-kun wear a T-shirt that says “15”?

A.: It is 15 as in “fifteen years old”. He looks up to that age, or rather, he might just want to ride off on a stolen bike. *laughs* Tsubasa is still thirteen, though. Thirteen-year-olds think of fifteen-year-olds as grown-ups.

Q.: Everyone’s individualities show through in that scene from episode 2 where they are all running and I quite like it, but how did you decide on and animate the particularities in the way each of them runs?

A.: I drew a rough sketch of the characteristics in each of their running styles, then had them clean-copied by the animation director, Irie-san.

Q.: Who has the best grades amongst the characters? Also, who has the worst ones?

A.: Rintarou has the best grades regardless of subject. Since he is a hard worker, his grades are top-class in his school year. On the other hand, the biggest dummy is Shigo. I am thinking of including the anecdotes related to this in episode 13 onwards.

Q.: I have the impression that you write about “things that might not be commonplace, but are a part of commonplace daily life”, without making the issues that each character bears into something excessively tragic. If there was any point in the shooting where you planned this out, I would like you to tell us.

A.: I believe animation already has a special filter for the shooting just from the fact that it is hand-drawn. That’s why I thought that dropping the ostentatious performance and making pure animation art would suffice this time. Since we were handling sensitive contents, we did not do an unnecessarily exaggerated staging. This might not be as interesting if shot in the same way as live actions, but the portrayal as animation is in itself enough for the shooting. Shots where they are walking, for example, are already an incredibly special picture, so isn’t this the greatness of animation?

Q.: Are Yuuta-kun’s feelings for Touma romantic love? Or is he sitting on the fence between love and friendship? Maybe it is admiration?

A.: I think there’s a part of him deep inside that has not yet figured it out. Surprisingly enough, Maki is the one who seems to understand it accurately.

Q.: How did you choose the rackets of each club member? Please tell us about the rackets of Arashi, Joy, the Itsuse brothers and Ryouma as well.

A.: For the rackets that have models, I picked them after deciding on my images of the position and skills of each one. Rackets have their own levels and popularity in real life, so for that part, I referenced the information I received from each maker. For example, I selected a racket that is, just as Touma said, easy for beginners to use as Maki’s first racket.

Q.: Jizue-san’s music was impressive as there is a sense of transparency to it, but the environment sounds were rather effective in that scene right before getting to the EV at the end of episode 5, so it felt like an extention of daily life and the sense of tension came alive. What kind of points were you particular about when making it?

A.: Music and sound effects can convey what the dialogues and acting do not. Even if a character is laughing, they aren’t always truly smiling on the inside. On the other hand, it’s not like we are going to play dreary music just because they’re scared. We did not put music in that scene precisely in order to enhance the unease. If we put music in it, we end up restricting its image. What we wanted people to feel was not fear, but the anxiety of wondering if something was about to happen.

Q.: How did you do the paste-up of the rackets’ gut strings?

A.: We had it pasted during the shooting. There were so many materials to be pasted other than this, such as books and cloth bibs, that the photography staff screamed. There were also many parts that we ended up omitting in the main story. Speaking of gut strings, there were special scenes where we did them as animation instead of paste-ups. The scene where Maki’s racket was destroyed was also entirely hand-drawn.

Q.: What was the reason for the OP and ED being cut off in the last episode?

A.: To emphasize that episode 12 is not the end of the story. The story of those boys that exists inside me is not yet complete, and I have only depicted half of it. I wanted the viewers to feel that the story would continue after this, so I directed it that way.

[gothamslimpestwrist]

s1e2 selina kyle

killcount:

“doug” the childsnatcher: “soldier” (homeless guy)

oswald cobblepot: douchebag college bro from the car, probably the other douchebag college bro as well.

jim gordon: quillan’s janitor

“patti” the childsnatcher: cat scratch fever dude w/ no eyes

episode total: 5 total count: 12

the dark knight rises: shit is clearly fucked in gotham. crime families are ruling the city, yes, but honestly that’s the least of it; look at the police force. we see that bo, the first responder, is late to the scene of the crime because he takes protection money from a local restaurant & gave them first priority (in other words, he’s a crooked bitch demanding a racket, AND it gets in the way of him actually doing his job). the cops are pretty much, explicitly, just an extension of the mob at this point. 

interestingly, we also see the start of an exploration of the wayne’s corruption; falcone refers to “the wayne empire,” mirroring the way they talk about the crime families And Also setting the waynes up as, like, a picture of the wealthy elite taken to a whole ‘nother level. gotham is the last modern vestige of the city state--and that is the wayne empire. who takes the crown now that the emperor and empress are dead? 

in OTHER news, the waynes really fucked bruce over. the murder itself was the lynching pin, causing him to jump over the fucking edge, so to speak, but he is Just A Little Boy! he is so troubled! he’s self harming and alfred yells at him and HITS HIM for being stupid, he’s listening to loud music and drawing fucked up shit, he’s both burned himself and is apparently cutting, and alfred, seeing all of this, refuses to get the boy who saw his parents shot a therapist, because the waynes told him to essentially let bruce raise himself. “the children are thoroughbreds,” basically. 

quoth barbara (thinking about essen shushing the child snatcher case in fear of bad press): “i can’t believe the system is so corrupt.” quoth jim (thinking about how he was yelled at for not beating a perp, thinking about the cop/mob connection that demanded he kill a man to prove his loyalty, thinking...): “you have no idea.” 

oh! and jim tells bruce the kids need more than money to keep them safe.

sliding scale of barbara kean’s sanity: she seems to be doing alright, but she’s troubled by jim’s troubles. also, this episode sets up some shit that will lead to irreparable damage later on; jim, even when he’s telling her things, isn’t telling her everything. she knows it. she hates it. he specifically hasn’t told her about oswald, which gives her reason to believe he’s a murderer pretty soon. plus, what she does w/ the information he does give her about his work (go straight to the press) gives him immediate reason to start trusting her less... and so they spiral.

sliding scale of ed nygma’s sanity: he’s a little bit more of a lurker this episode. creeps outside the captain’s office until someone notices him, lingers inside until everyone in the room makes it obvious he’s not welcome. he’s trying his best, but he’s not... very... “well liked,” shall we say.

continuity: montoya and allen are looking into the murder of oswald cobblepot. he was their snitch, after all. so that’s problems... many things are subtly set up in this episode: falcone and fish discuss maroni and his anticipated power play (adding another piece to the political chessboard of this season), the atp drug the child snatchers use is established to have been developed for arkham asylum, which is also established to have been closed for the past 15 years AND to have recently been in the works for a reopening, specifically by thomas and martha wayne. and that’s all just offhanded discussion. also related to the atp, when ed is listing the only three places that still stock it, it’s quillan pharma, drakatech (?)... and welzyn, which isn’t relevant at all to THIS episode (quillan’s the one dealing with the childsnatchers) but WILL become relevant to everyone in a few episodes, when welzyn manufactures viper. oh, and naturally the identity of the man the childsnatchers are working for: the dollmaker. hm!! on a lighter note, harvey’s ex-white knight tendencies that we explore in spirit of the goat are foreshadowed here; essen accuses him of leaking the child snatchers story to the press, w/ the reasoning that he’d done it before. after jim & barbara established that it was the right thing to do....

parallels: jim & selina meet in this episode. they are... The Same™. (look, i’ll come back to it later, but even tho my parallel in the pilot was btwn selina and oswald, and even tho they’re the two that are the villain counterparts to our heroes, jim and SELINA are the matched set.) also, this is the episode where fish expresses the wish that penguin wasn’t dead (because she wants him to suffer), but also she tells jim & harvey that she knew it was a mistake to order them killed as soon as she did it. so that means something? 

neither here nor there, but gertrud tells montoya & allen how elegant and well dressed oswald is, and bruce comments on the orphans’ scruffy appearances and buys them new clothes... we love a dandy, i guess.

characterization: we meet some irrelevant street kids that selina knew; zeb, smoke, and mackey (corey in the house). i’m basically using the characterization tab as fanfic reference so i might as well record that.

lazlo, fish’s lover, is relevant, in that falcone beats him to get to her. it definitely does affect her, though she says she only keeps him around for exercise. maybe more b/c of falcone’s threat and the fear of what it implies, though. 

and gertrud! ozzie’s mom. everyone connected to oswald, even outside (maybe even especially outside) of his mob connections, is a little twisted. she’s no different; she’s clearly a bit out of her head, she mistrusts the police (which i guess we’re supposed to think is suss, though really...Fair and Just), she’s got that almost creepy codependency with oswald while not really knowing what’s going on there. (other examples: elijah, oswald’s gothic horror father, martin, oswald’s lowkey homicidal son, edward, oswald’s fascist dog, jim, oswald’s corrupt boyfriend...) she also seems to think oswald has run off with some painted lady (actually, she says painted slut), which might be indicative of her experiences w/ van dahl and some unstable jealousy more than it is of oswald, who’s... you know. 

in other news, jim is all over the map here. he stops harvey beating mackey (and later, quillan, after they’ve already gotten info out of him) and protests that they should leak the story to the press, but he also seems content to keep his mouth shut until barbara takes doing good upon herself. he adapts to the mob shit pretty quick, but expresses disgust w/ the corruption in the system. he gets off on the wrong foot w/ mayor james because he disagrees with locking up the kids w/o a trial, but he doesn’t... step in... either. we see this willingness to compromise and bend the knee that means he’ll never be the hero gotham deserves. 

also, not to be a jim apologist on main or anything (ha, ha), but he’s just so... brainwashed. all this, & he still tells alfred that being a cop, which has thus far caused him nothing but pain & misery, is the “best job in the world.” because he thinks he’s helping people. (and he likes getting to feel like a hero... so where do the misguided good intentions stop and the selfish motives begin?) he also kills a man for the first time on screen this episode because for all its examinations of dirty cops... gotham is still, at the end of the day, Copaganda. in an actual moment of me drinking I Love Jim Gordon juice, jim is the one who advocates for bruce going to therapy, and tries to convince him to go personally, even when jim himself is too emotionally stunted for it to help him. 

also, backstory: harvey pegs his love life, saying, “high school sweetheart, then a bunch of hoes (read: eduardo dorrance) overseas only made you sad... and then there’s barbara.” he also calls jim a monkey riding a race horse; jim’s face is really good @ that. i misinterpreted the line about high school sweethearts back in the day to mean that barb was jim’s highschool sweetheart. this is on account of auditory processing disorder and also general dumbassery. anyway, the point is that jim is a boring, predictable bitch! whom i love.

...in terms of characterization from the episode that i don’t agree with, i can’t really see oswald writing all the shit that they had on his conspiracy board, lmfao. “crybaby brucie,” “gordon=STOOGE,” & so forth. i pretend i do not see it.

[the-foxes-fangs]

Yukiko and the Princess (Ikemen Sengoku)

Requested by @otomediary

She tried to sit as formally as possible in the audience hall as Nobunaga received some Portugese merchants and inspected the various wares they proffered, only half explained by a translator who looked ready to faint. 

She had to fight the urge to let her shoulders slump as Mitsuhide carried on pointedly avoiding her gaze. He had an infuriating knack for confusing her, drifting in like an apparition for a game of hanafuda or to offer help veiled under insults and then slipping like smoke through her fingers with what could only charitably be described as an enigmatic smile. 

He walked an edge as thin as his smile between revealing the depths of the kindness she could sense and holding himself always just out of reach. She knew better than to indulge her fascination with the kind of leopard who couldn’t (and probably didn’t want to) change his spots, but knowing it and feeling it were entirely different problems. There were times when his eyes would take on a gentleness that made her heart ache, just for a moment before it vanished completely leaving her to wonder if it was all in her mind as he dissipated like so much mist. 

Something cold and wet nudged her hand and she squealed in surprise, clamping her hand over her mouth in red faced embarrassment as all of the eyes in the room, including his, turned on her like spotlights. One of the foreigners, a jolly looking man with twinkling brown eyes under wild black brows laughed loudly and smiled approvingly, and spoke rapid fire to the translator who looked as if his soul had practically left his body at the commotion. 

She didn’t quite hear what was said, as she found a small black cloud of a dog peering sweetly into her face. Something about a gift from a French princess for the esteemed Oda court. 

She had already buried her fingers in the dog’s fluffy coat when she looked up to see Nobunaga smiling at her with an expression that was a mixture of lordly beneficence and outright amusement at her pleading expression. 

She smiled ruefully, remembering the poodle her neighbors had had when she was in elementary school, how they used to play through over the low wall separating their back yards for hours after school and how she had cried and sobbed when they moved away. There was something about having such a straightforward creature curled up happily in her lap that made her feel more at home than she had since being dragged back in time. 

The audience ended without further incident and she sighed with relief, and patted the floor for her little friend, who seemed to have no trouble interpreting her gesture and sat patiently as she adjusted her kimono and rose. She realized a few moments too late that she had failed to ask if the dog already had a name. 

Ieyasu shook his head irritably at her, and said “A weird creature with another weird creature, what is this castle coming to?” But he was smiling very slightly despite himself. 

Mitsunari, meanwhile beamed at them angelically and added “They’re very unusual and adorable together, just as you say, Lord Ieyasu.” Which made Ieyasu look even grumpier than usual. 

Masamune was grinning and remarked to Nobunaga “Now there’s a clever little animal, she knew just where to go for the most attention!”

Nobunaga for his part, merely remarked “I suppose a lap dog does make my lucky charm look more like a princess than usual.” 

Hideyoshi was already bustling over to them to inspect the dog, fussing over her as if she might be carrying a hidden weapon. He finally relaxed when she rolled onto her back and tricked him into rubbing her tummy. She had a few patches of white that only added to her cloudlike appearance. 

“Whose a good girl? Is it you? It is!” He cooed at her, clearly already wrapped around her delicate paw. He looked up and frowned, adding “her feet are cracked, probably from running about in saltwater, so make sure you take care of that, and also remind me to get you some combs, and-” 

“Yes, mother. Our chatelaine is goofy but I think she can manage to take care of a single dog without a detailed set of instructions!” Ieyasu cut in, hands on his hips. 

“Thank you, Hideyoshi, I’ll keep all of that in mind.” She said, scooping the dog into her arms, where she settled comfortably. 

“Oh but lass, what’s her name?” Masamune chimed in, approaching them to scratch the dog under her chin as if she were a kitten, which she tolerated patiently. 

“Hmmm...” she stared at the dog who stared back up at her expectantly. 

Mitsuhide, who had not changed his usual expression at all throughout the event, finally spoke from the periphery of the circle. “Yukiko, written as valuable, so nobody accidentally eats the poor helpless thing.” 

“Nobody would dare...” Hideyoshi sounded appalled and whirled on Mitsuhide, who maintained his Mona Lisa smile with apparent ease. 

“Yukiko it is, then” She cut in, staving off an argument. “What do you say, Yukiko? Is that a good enough name?” 

The newly christened Yukiko cocked her head and uttered a single happy bark of agreement, which delighted Hideyoshi enough to distract him from Mitsuhide snickering at them. 

“Yahiko? That’s a funny name for a girl.” Mitsunari said, sweetly. 

“Yukiko.” Ieyasu grumbled back at him. 

“Oh! Umeko, what a cute girl you are, Umeko!” Mitsunari said happily, patting her head gently.  

“Yu. Ki. Ko.” 

“Yes, Akiko is a very cute name, Lord Ieyasu.” 

“Let it go, Ieyasu” Hideyoshi said, shaking his head fondly. 

Nobunaga strolled over and held his closed fan out to the tip of Yukiko’s nose with a great deal more seriousness than was strictly necessary, peering down into her small face. “I expect you to protect our lucky charm, and to stand guard outside the storeroom when we take back our konpeito, little princess.” He said, and grinned as she barked happily at him. 

“Don’t you dare, Yukiko!” Hideyoshi said, and glared at Nobubaga. 

“Konpeito! So that’s her name!” Mistunari said, adding “how lovely to name her after Lord Nobunaga’s favorite snack.” 

Ieyasu stared up at the ceiling in despair as Hideyoshi patted his shoulder sympathetically. 

Mitsuhide was first out the door, as usual, and they all dispersed to their separate duties. Yukiko followed her to her rooms as if it was an old routine, and waited patiently while she shrugged out of the heavy layers of formal clothes and back into her usual attire. 

She trotted along happily to the sewing room, where the other seamstresses and maids made a fuss over her, and she curled up and slept as they carried on working. The light was fading as she came and nudged the fabric away. 

“Oh, I suppose you probably do need to go out, don’t you?” 

They walked out past the garden and close to the stables, and were headed back in when Yukiko lifted her head and took off at trot, headed directly toward the kitchen. 

She had nearly lost sight of her when she heard Masamune’s cheerful laughter. “Good little lass, at least you appreciate my food.” 

He had put down a bowl of scraps which the dog was devouring happily. 

“Thanks, Masamune, you really didn’t have to go out of your way.” 

“Nonsense, lass. You’ve been looking so gloomy for days that I was nearly ready to whisk you away for a nice ride!” 

“Thank you for saving me from that horrible fate, Yukiko!” She said as the dog wagged her tail. 

Ieyasu, who was passing with an armful of books stopped and frowned at the scene. “Don’t feed her anything too rich, or she’ll be sick all over the place.” He said, and fished in his sleeve for a container of salve that he held out slightly abashedly. 

“This should be good for her feet. I mean, assuming weird foreign dogs won’t get poisoned by beeswax.” He muttered and then stalked off before she could thank him. 

“Oh, there you are- Masamune, there had better not be bones in that bowl!” Hideyoshi said, as he popped his head through the door. 

“Excuse me, I think I know more about food than you, you wet hen.” Masamune shot back, moodily. 

“I could sail a fleet of ships between what you know and how responsibly you use that knowledge!” Hideyoshi answered, and handed her a well wrapped package of what turned out to be several wooden combs and a well made pair of shears.

“Thank you, Hideyoshi, that was very thoughtful.” She said, and he ruffled her hair affectionately in response.

“As long as she makes you smile again, we’ll all be happy.” He replied, and crouched to scratch behind Yukiko’s ears. 

“Hey! Dinner is serious, it’s no time for interruptions!” Masamune cut in, swatting his hand away. 

“Oh but I’m the wet hen?” Hideyoshi said with a laugh. He left after poking around in the dish to double check that there wasn’t anything remotely dangerous. 

Masamune shooed them out of the kitchen, declining offers of help, and they headed back toward her room, where she settled in to work on a special order, with Yukiko asleep at her side. 

“Well, at least someone wants to stay close to me.” She said and sighed, wondering why she couldn’t get Mitsuhide off of her mind despite his clear indications that it was an entirely one sided fascination. 

She hadn’t realized how tired she was from the excitement of the day, and found that she had drifted off to sleep, needle and thread in hand, when she woke up to find that the lamp had sputtered out. She groped around for a taper to relight it on one of the hall lamps, and stumbled toward the door, Yukiko dutifully beside her. 

She was about to light her taper when the dog ran off toward the Tenshu, ignoring her repeated calls. It was probably a bit too much to expect that she would know her name after only half a day. 

She lost sight of her in the shadows, following as quickly as possible without raising a racket, when she heard his voice, low and amused from beyond a corner. 

“It’s time for good little dogs to be fast asleep with their mistresses, you know.” 

She peeked around the corner and saw him settled on his heels, a very pleased looking Yukiko in his lap, contentedly having her ears scratched. 

“Someone will trip over you in the halls and then we’ll never hear the end of it from Hideyoshi, which is so terribly dull.” He continued, and took out a strip of pink fabric embroidered with gold that glinted even in the low lamplight and fashioned it into a neat bow around the dogs neck. 

“Good girl.” He said, and Yukiko wagged her tail furiously. “Go back and guard the little mouse before she trips on her own feet, now.” He added with loud amusement. Of course he knew she was there. It was uncanny. 

She turned and huffed back down the hall, cursing herself for thinking she could ever outfox him. Yukiko joined her, trotting along at her heel happily. 

“Oh, sure, he’ll cuddle you, but I’m the dogs meat!” She muttered, and squeaked as something fluttered down onto her face. 

A neatly tied bright pink bow, with glittering gold embroidery. She whirled, only to hear the sound of a low laugh fading into the shadows. 

[ldelreyna]

CHAPTER II

“Eyes at the heights of my baby Let's hope at the fight of my baby The lights were as bright as my baby But your love was unmoved ...”

- As It Was, Hozier

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That night, after Sansa's announcement to the Night’s Watch, she dined with Jon on his camera. There was much to be talked about, but none of them could utter a word. She, on the other hand, couldn’t understand why he hadn’t reacted positively at once to the possibility of returning home. But Jon was afraid. Afraid of all the implications it might bring to the North – and to Sansa. Many nobles in the Six Kingdoms, followers of Daenerys, hated him and he didn’t blame them.

What the fuck! He really wanted to go home ...

"One hour you'll have to say something." Sansa fired the words as she set her plate aside after being satisfied with her soup.

Jon shook his head, eyes distant and thoughtful as he always was.

"To be honest, I'm scared. I am afraid this will bring political trouble for you and for our home."

"I've talked to Bran, he agrees, you have to go home!" She exclaimed showing anger at her words and it startled him at little.

"Why do you want me to come back? You seem fine on your own." There was no malice in Jon's words, he really admired the work Sansa was doing.

Arya was right, she really was the smartest person he ever met.

"We are a family. Me, you, Arya and Bran. And more than that, we spent a lot of time being the only support and comfort of the other. You and me."

Jon was silent, this time letting Sansa finish what she had to say:

"I need you, Jon. Our home needs you. The North needs you."

He took a deep breath, thoughtful. Jon pondered too much and that was something that bothered Sansa, almost ever. He put his hand over hers and squeezed in comfort, smiling for a moment and then stood up from the table and walked around the room as a thousand things went through his head.

Sansa left his chambers. It was the best, if she had stayed, they would engage in a fight and she needed him to have more reasons to go home and not stay away from her.

“You seem troubled, my Queen…”

Sansa sighed and turn her head to the sound of Brienne’s voice.

“I am not your Queen, Brienne, I am your friend.”

“I consider myself half north, half south.”

“And I consider myself full north but something feels empty inside of me.”

Sansa was sewing a cloak for Jon. She had brought several of them – made it by herself – to him but that one needed its final adjustments.

“Is it something about Jon? About him going back home?”

The needle at her hands was heavier than ever. She should have yelled with him earlier that night. Things was stocked inside of her, millions questions.

“He didn’t react quite as I was expecting…”

“If he’s happy here…”

“He’s not. And that’s the problem. Neither I am.” Sansa replied not allowing Brienne to finish her sentence.

“Why do you want him to go back home so much?”

That was a golden question. And Sansa didn’t have that answer in her hands. Why? Things changed, Arya found her calling and so has Bran. She was Queen and Jon was back to where he was before. She tried to think the place he belonged but those words were fucking wrong for her to swallow.

At the other day, Sansa and Jon went Beyond the Wall. It was a place she had never put her feet so she was a little bit curious about and asked Jon if he could take her for a short view and he was happy to do it.

"The cold gave in a lot, but there is still a lot to recover after the Long Night. Many plants are unfruitful, reclusive animals ... "

"How the free folk are feeding themselves?"

"They are exploring lands closer to the Wall. Further west was also not so affected, for some reason the cold wasn’t so strong there. "

"If they want and if you find it appropriate, we can allow them to hunt in the North. At least until all this situation is restored."

Jon stopped his horse for a second and stared at Sansa with a discreet smile on his face. "That's very generous of you, Sansa."

"Many of them gave their lives for us. And they had more losses than us. And if there’s one thing I learned from all this is that we should take care of everyone around us because we are interdependent. "

"And how it was your post war?" He asked.

“How it was your post war? Your post all the shits it came out from your life…”

Jon laughed but the smile couldn’t reach his eyes.

“Besides everything?” It was rhetorical question Jon did trying to joke with the subject.

“What you mean by everything?”

He could visibly see that something had bothered her in his words.

“I don’t know, Sansa. I preferred not to think about. There’s not much I can do so the best for me is not to really think…”

That was so Jon, scared of facing feelings and his psychological shit.

“You can’t run forever, Jon. Someday all of the implications of this you came to you, you know it will.”

“It changed something for you, my true parenthood?”

“It does.” She was fast in her answer. “But not my love to you. You know it won’t.”

“That hasn’t changed for me either.”

“Good.” She said receiving a squeeze at her shoulders from him.

They rode through lands far beyond North. Jon showed Sansa how the forest and the woods changed drastically just by crossing the Wall. Some rivers were thawing, and fish could already be seen in abundance. Jon taught her how to fish only with a stick and they laughed when she already managed to catch a big one on her first try.

They decided to visit Tormund, taking all the food they had hunted in the lake. Of course, the redhead big man made a party when he saw Jon and the young Queen, especially after Sansa communicated her decision to him.

"If your people are finding it difficult here, we have fertile lands and we need people to look after them in the North." She paused, both walking together both walking together through the village of his clan, to the tent where she would sleep with Jon so that both could ride back to the Wall tomorrow morning. "Even if the desire in your heart is to stay here, spread the word. We are friendly lands now and the Wall is just a symbol that from there you have your own leadership. "

“It’s very kind of you, Your Grace. I’ll let my people know.”

Sansa sighed when they both was already at the tent where Jon was tidying blankets so that the cold couldn’t bother them at night, which already gave indications that it would be very cold.

“Is not much but it’s the best we have.” Tormund said, now speaking about the place she was going to sleep.

Sansa smiled not really caring about the lack of luxury of the place. Those people were happy, always smiling and everything was such a big celebration for them that she was loved being around the free folk.

“It’s perfect.” She was honest at her words and he noticed.

Tormund left and Sansa joined Jon inside de small place. It’s incredible how the leather they used to cover the tent already allowed the place to be so much hotter than outside.

“I believe that will hold us for the night.” Jon affirmed taking a final look in what he arranged.

His sword and cloak were left by the side of what it may seems to be a big bed made it by several of blankets covering a big amount of straw. After Sansa got rid of her dress and loosened the tightness of her corset, she tasted the softness of the bed and over-approved the work Jon had done there.

“Tired?” He asked throwing a last blanket over her.

“So much…”

Jon sighed and got rid of the parts of his clothes that would bother him that night. Until they both were under cover, both tired but not able to sleep.

“What I am to you Jon?”

“Forgive-me?” He said feeling confused with sudden question.

“You said everything changed.”

“Should I re-classify us?” He was being ironic.

“I just… need to know.”

Outside the lack o light indicated that many had already gone sleep while they both were talking staring into nowhere.

“What you want to know?”

“I am still your sister? Have I ever been your sister? I mean… we never had what you have with Arya.”

Jon felt something awkward inside of him, he was sudden concerned if he ever did something that hurt Sansa enough to make her question those things.

“Have I said something that hurt you?”

“No. Never.” She paused and then turned her eyes to him. “You could never hurt me.”

“And I won’t.”

The spark was thrown. After that, everything would be like an explosion. Inside them, of course. Jon took Sansa's hand in his and they both remained silent while their minds were in a deafening racketing.

He loved his sister – or cousin –, he was absolutely sure of that. His feelings of protecting and caring never changed either. But something was different. And what it was? What could possibly change if the rest was almost the same? And why?

Has it ever changed really?

Sansa’s chest was beating faster than ever. The sort of silence Jon gave to her question got her and she wasn’t comfortable with that situation – the reactions in her body. And as Jon was caressing her hand slowly, she felt the emptiness leaving her chest.

And Sansa saw herself wanting more of that. She always wanted – she just couldn’t admit – but now things were becoming a little bit clear in her head.

“I won’t pressure you to go home but … I need you, Jon. I really do. And that’s one of the things it will never change.”

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NOTES:

1. I am sorry again for spelling mistakes. I try my best but I am not such a pro in English. Not even in my main language. 

2. I am very happy with all the reach me and littlegirlinvisible is having after the first chapter. It may not be much for some but for me it's a lot.

3. Reblog, like and comment if you're enjoying. 

4. You're all free to give me prompts and ideas. I am also open to request for another works.

Follow the tag # swan song jonsa fanfic to see the posts and the gifsets whenever you want..

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I sincerely hope that everyone is enjoying it.

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CHAPTER INDEX:

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

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[ghost-train-hunters]

End Results

Scratch reflects on the aftermath of a difficult run involving Humanis. Unlike the rest of her team, she lost a lot more than she gained…

An Orichalcum and Silicon short story by BrossUno

——

Scratch had heard that any run you would walk away from was a successful one. Even if things went south. Even if a runner didn’t get exactly what they were hoping for, they could always try again. Slowly but surely they could claw their way out of whatever hole had tripped them up. The dead never had that luxury. If the hole turned out to be a grave that was their lot in life. They were just another runner fading away in the shadows the world would never know or care about. 

But the old adage and philosophy bullshit didn’t help her in the least. She felt the anger and frustration simmering beneath her skin as she drove through downtown Seattle in her Americar. She had no idea where she was going. She already missed the days of heading down to the local junkyard with a sledgehammer and venting her rage on derelict machines left to rot.

Somehow she found her way down to a bar known as the Defiler Lounge. The clock read one in the morning but she was in no mood to sleep with a scrapped roto drone back at the garage. The entrance to the bar sat in a narrow alley that didn’t provide room for more than a motorcycle. She parked around the corner and made sure her medical mask and flat cap was on tight. 

It wasn’t hard to find a reinforced door that had enough dents and burn patterns to show it had been put through the paces. A small neon sign next to it had not been so lucky and barely functioned. It looked like it had been broken and repaired a dozen times. Occasionally with a flicker it would display the name of the bar as all the letters lit up. Defiler Lounge.

Scratch had visited a few times before. The door wasn’t locked as she found a staircase on the other side of the threshold. It took her down to a basement area where she found another reinforced door and a forest of utility pipes servicing the buildings above. A human bouncer stood watch that she knew as Shorts. Everyone called him that on account he didn’t wear much else to show off his cyberlegs and what he considered muscles. 

His lithe build didn’t fit the traditional image of a bouncer, but the shotguns built into his thighs loaded with non-lethal rounds allegedly helped him get around it. Or so he said. He also bragged he practiced Muay Thai, not that Scratch had ever seen him do anything more than mouth off when she visited. The sight of his black matted hair and broad smile didn’t help her mood at all.

“Ayyy, Scratch! Living the dream yet?” Shorts pointed.

He heaped on as much sarcasm as he could the moment he picked up on her sour mood. His raw confidence pissed her off.

“Eat shit.” She responded dryly.

“Oh yeah. You’ve come to the right place. Get in there!”

He ushered her inside even though she didn’t need the invitation. The fast talking little shit made motions like he was bringing in a plane to land. Luckily he didn’t say anything more. After the last job she wasn’t in the mood to put up with anyone. Despite her temperament she had forgotten to leave her weapons at the garage. She had a Scorpion holstered in her jacket and an Ingram Smartgun stashed in the smuggling compartment of her left cyberleg. Most of the bar’s patrons came armed so it wasn’t unheard of. She just had to worry about controlling herself. Part of her didn’t care.

The floor space for the bar made her think they had stolen it from some other business. The room had high ceilings but made up for it with a cluttered layout. Support pillars stood in awkward places that kept the tables too close to each other. Scratch guessed it might have been a small office before. The bar where the drinks were made ran along the left wall, which is where she headed right away. Otherwise the Defiler Lounge wasn’t the kind of place she normally hung out. Shit hole bars were everywhere and once you saw one you had seen them all.

The only point of interest to her was a large troll who worked as a bartender. People called him Lefty, mostly since his left hook could flatten even the bulkiest drunks. Despite the ‘hole in the wall’ ambience, he dressed somewhat presentable. He regularly wore a pair of brown pants and a dress shirt that had clearly been to the cleaners a few times. The two horns on his head were chipped in a few places, which suggested he was more than a pretty face. Scratch had never seen him step out from behind the bar. If there was trouble all he had to do was raise his voice and customers got the message. His actual bartending was average at best and what he really excelled in was keeping an ear to the ground. 

Things made more sense when Scratch learned that Lefty and Rosselott did business with each other on a somewhat regular basis. Whatever he actually did or wherever he had come from, he had been a gateway to Shadowrunning in Seattle. She picked up on it right away that between him and Rosselott they had their hands in a fair amount of money.

The moment Scratch sat down at the bar Lefty made his way over. She didn’t normally drink in public, or drink much at all, since alcohol messed with the senses. Also her tolerance was so high she rarely got to enjoy the buzz. But all the anger and frustration bred enough indifference that she didn’t care that night. Even Lefty had to raise an eyebrow when she ordered what passed for vodka at the Defiler Lounge. He poured her a drink, but only after an amused grunt. It didn’t have to taste good. It just had to burn. 

“You’re drinking tonight? Rough job?”

“One in broad daylight, actually.” She answered flatly.

“Sounds like someone screwed the poor little pooch.”

Scratch pulled up her mask and took a big swig of her drink and nearly choked on it.

“Yeah,” she said after clearing her throat. “You can say that. I’ve never worked so hard for such a small amount of money in my entire life.”

Lefty smiled with interest. “What’d you get up to?”

She squeezed the glass in anger. She knew she didn’t have enough strength to break it. Part of her didn’t want to think about it anymore. Then she realized she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to be a sad sap at the bar. She deserved it after her performance. They had a shootout in broad daylight so there wasn’t much secrecy involved in the first place.

“Some street doc hired our little group to play neighborhood watch. Someone was going around Bellevue targeting meta-humans,” she said.

“Yeah. Heard a little about that.”

“And it wasn’t a bunch of go-gangers with steel pipes and peashooters either. We got  into it with Humanis.”

Lefty gave a cold smile. “Proper drek, aren’t they?”

Scratch had never run into Humanis before, even though she heard plenty about them. They were like any supremacy group that thought their ilk were at the center of the universe and spent a lot of time and energy trying to force that idea on everyone else. In her eyes they were like any criminal outfit with the exception that they had ‘a cause’ to fight for. And ‘a cause’ was just a clever way to get people to work for you without paying them very much. They attracted a lot of suckers as a result. Scratch had already found assholes in all walks of life in every shape and form. The idea that humans were more special or more deserving had been destroyed a long time ago.

Not that the street doc could offer much either other than the warm tingly sense of doing the right thing. Scratch had reservations about the job, but she didn’t have many options to choose from. She sucked it up like Rosselott suggested and went along with the good feelings Hollowpoint and the others were fishing for. She brought her GMC Bulldog for transportation and hoped deep down they’d rough up a few punks and call it a day. They weren’t even close to being that lucky.

“A recent victim, some jumpy dwarf, pointed us toward a courier outfit running supplies into the Barrens. We met up with another team of runners and almost got in a shootout when our mage tried to peek inside their truck. Astral projection or whatever that crap is.”

Mantis got busted by another mage and almost got punted out of the astral plane as a result. Scratch was amazed they didn’t have a shoot out right then and there. But through some quick talking they passed it off as a rookie mistake and managed to join on as hired guns for protection. They almost had to make good on their ruse when some gang tried the old toll booth extortion racket when they headed out to the drop off. Mantis managed to redeem herself by locating all the gang members waiting to spring an ambush. The leader trying to shake them down felt a lot less bold when their positions were exposed and decided to back off.

“We made it to the drop but no one was there. The other runners started to get antsy.”

“Let me guess. The couriers were mostly meta-humans,” Lefty said.

“Meta-humans got stiffed. Humans got recruited. At least that’s the way I saw it.”

They got tired of waiting and hatched a plan with some RFID tags. They’d leave the cargo behind, mark them, and wait for them to move. It didn’t take long before someone came to collect. A truck had picked up all the crates and headed off toward a building in the distance. They gave chase in the van. That’s when Hollowpoint pulled off another crack shot out of nowhere. He leaned out the passenger side window, took aim at the truck trying to get away with the cargo, and sniped a tire with a handgun. 

The resulting crash could only be described as spectacular. The driver overcorrected and sent the vehicle tumbling end over end revealing the cargo as some kind of canisters as it spilled all over the place. Then the truck smashed into a loading dock and burst into flames.

Scratch had to admit, in another life Hollowpoint would have been an assassin in high demand with his dead aim.

“With the commotion of the sudden car crash, we climbed onto the roof and snuck into the building through a skylight.”

Lefty gave an amused smile. “I’m trying to picture you climbing. I’m not seeing it.”

Scratch shot a glare. “Once we got inside we had the place to ourselves minus a few cameras our Decker took care of. The car crash made a good distraction. That’s where we confirmed who we were dealing with.”

A derelict building in the Barrens served as a Humanis base. They had been there for awhile judging by the computer room, bunk beds, and the main attraction in the form of a secure vault. Much as they wanted to see what was on the other side of the door they couldn’t get past it. Even Bast, their resident thief, couldn’t crack the maglock despite her best efforts. 

They tossed a few bunks and wandered around a ramshackle cafeteria. It didn’t take long before they heard voices coming from the loading dock. Everyone in the building must have run out to attend to the smoking wreck of the truck. They were on their way back.

“We set up an ambush and took out five or six of them. I don’t remember the exact numbers. All I remember is that one of them got knocked out. Some woman. Then came the bright idea to bring the unconscious Humanis thug with us for a chat later. We took off when our courier friends warned us that more people were closing in on the building.”

Lefty nodded his head with an understanding. “You didn’t get all of them, did you?”

“Give me another drink.” Scratch demanded angrily.

Hindsight stung more than any alcohol as much as Scratch tried. Thinking back on it, she knew they had made all sorts of mistakes. The only thing she was really good at was killing people and driving. She never had to consider so many angles before. But the second they heard more were on the way they assumed the worst. 

They left the canisters the truck was carrying and cleared out of the Humanis base without looking too closely at their computers. The job had already spun out of control from patrolling the streets to trading shots with human supremacists. No way the street doc could compensate them for that.

“We took our Humanis friend to a quiet spot. I could tell right away no one in our group had tortured anyone before. They didn’t know what was going to happen going in, but I did.”

“Oh yeah?”

“We had a bunch of meta-humans, a member of Humanis, and no one had any contacts that were cleaners. It went about as well as you’d think.”

“You record any highlights?” Lefty asked with anticipation.

“No. I watched the perimeter incase anyone followed us.”

“You didn’t join in on the fun?” The disappointment was palpable.

From what Scratch heard Hollowpoint tried to play the good cop like he usually did. Mantis, Merc, and Bast had the most fun with their Humanis guest. It involved clipping ears to look like an elf and then burying the lady alive with an earth spirit. That did make clean-up very quick and easy. As bubbly as Mantis tried to present herself, she was shaping up into a real gravedigger. There was real potential.

Scratch shook her head. “Once you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. Besides I always got stuck with clean up. Not this time.”

The Humanis thug gave them only a few pieces of information for the trouble. Her outfit had plans to hit a homeless shelter in Bellevue sometime in the afternoon. Oz had some data to crunch off the lady’s commlink as far as possible connections and collaborators went. But as far as timetables and how exactly they were going to do it, they had nothing. 

They went back to the Humanis compound to find it cleaned out except for a busted canister left behind with a label that warned about the contents under pressure causing increased aggression. It didn’t take much to figure out Humanis were going to launch some gas attack and frame meta-humans as monsters.

“We warned our client, the street doc, about everything that had happened. He wanted to know why we left the canisters behind, how many members were still out there, or why we ditched the compound without clearing it out. I reminded him he only hired us to play the part of neighborhood watch. Not deal with chemical attacks.”

“I’m going to guess he didn’t like that.” Lefty grinned.

“Hollowpoint didn’t like it either. It looked like he was going to drop off the face of the earth. He probably would have buried himself next to the Humanis thug we tortured out in the Barrens. But we weren’t getting paid shit in the first place. So screw the lot of them.”

Scratch started to feel the alcohol get on top of her. The idea was sobering enough on its own. She slid the glass back and waved off Lefty before he could pour her another. Everyone had ideas. Oz wanted to drop the matter entirely considering what little information they had. But Hollowpoint and his infallible conscience decided he was going to take it head on even if it killed him. Scratch couldn’t afford to let the idiot die yet. They still had an arrangement in place. The others eventually followed suit and they were on the hook for damage control.

“The shelter was a shit show as you probably heard from the news. Hollowpoint went inside and volunteered as a janitor. Bast snuck in through a window. The rest of us were nearby in the van. We looked at possible entry points for the gas. The roof. The air conditioner. The food. Some delivery man came by to drop off chicken and got clocked by Bast and Hollowpoint for the trouble. In the end, Humanis just lobbed some gas grenades in the middle of the dining area like real masterminds.”

It could have been so much worse. Oz had control of the shelter AC unit after hacking it and vented as much as he could. A cloud still managed to reach a few people, including Bast and Hollowpoint themselves. The inside of the shelter fell into a melee. Mantis rushed in with potions to counteract the effect but it didn’t help as much as they all wanted. Hollowpoint faded into his own little world, pulled a pair of pistols hidden on slide holsters, and opened up on a crowd of people. 

By some miracle he only managed to shoot and kill a Humanis plant before Oz ejected the magazines in his guns. By then Merc had arrived equipped with an internal air tank and they engaged in a fist fight that would have been right at home in any kung-fu trid. A man the size of a stick and an orc the size of a fridge going blow for blow and keeping up with each other on equal footing.

“Where were you in all this?” Lefty finally asked.

“Me? I was outside, fending off a van full of Humanis enforcers properly armored and equipped with AP rounds. All by myself!”

The minute the gas attack started Scratch brought the van in front of the shelter to provide cover. On the way in Merc had to pulverize a Humanis thug disguised as homeless and must have sent a message that things weren’t going to plan. So they brought a van full of armed soldiers either as a back-up plan or some attempt to play the hero gunning down meta-humans run amok. It was Scratch and her two roto-drones, Garland and Lockjoy, against the world while everyone else fragged around inside the shelter.

“Everyone was having such a good time while Humanis took out one of my drones. 16,500 nuyen. Just scrap now. A nice old gunfight in broad daylight. All for nothing!”

Scratch’s hands started to shake as she felt like exploding. She had plans to carry that drone to the ends of the earth. Her current lifestyle didn’t afford her parts much less a whole new drone. Garland was a lost cause. All the time and effort and she lost it for some nobodies at a homeless shelter. Thanks to Hollowpoint’s crippling need to make a difference. She took out her anger on the Humanis attack team. She gave them a double tap twice over. It helped a little.

The anger amplified by the alcohol died down. She always did have a high tolerance. Chip truth she wasn’t alone outside. Oz had her back from the safety of her armored van, doing his work in the Matrix. Humanis had plans to use their van as cover, but once Oz got control he did a donut with it and left them separated without anything to hide behind. He screwed with their guns, ejected their magazines in the shootout. She never expected that she’d be so thankful for a Decker on her side.

Bast and Mantis came along a little later to help out but Scratch was too mad to admit any of it to Lefty. She barely wanted to admit Mantis using the earth spirit to conceal their van on the way out that saved them a lot of trouble with the police arriving on the scene.

“I think… I’ve had enough for tonight.” She muttered.

“Maybe.” Lefty smiled. “Even still, I hear no one at the shelter died. The police found a lot of incriminating evidence on some dead Humanis members. A couple of homeless beat each other up after being gassed… but they’ll survive.”

A lot of good feelings never fixed Scratch’s problems. They certainly weren’t going to fix Garland either. She had half a mind to shake down Hollowpoint for dragging them into such a mess. Their community service cost her a drone and nearly put her in the hole after rent was due. Her plans were slipping through her fingers into some dirty drain on a Seattle corner. 

At this rate she’d wind up dead in a ditch somewhere if she was lucky. But as angry as she felt, she needed Hollowpoint. She didn’t exactly know any other private detectives who would work pro-bono, especially considering her past. Also he wasn’t some out of shape security guard. He could take on an orc hand-to-hand while high out of his mind. Not to mention his stellar aim.

Then she remembered she still had to pay for drinks. Lefty waved her off much to her surprise. He wasn’t known for his generosity.

“These are on the house.” He explained.

“Great. Thanks Lefty. It’s nice to know I look as poor as I feel.”

“The street doc paid you, didn’t he? How much was all that trouble worth, by the way? Just curious.”

Scratch shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “A measly 2k.”

It felt so awful to say that she felt like spitting on the floor. But the last time a man spit on the floor Lefty put them through a table. He found her payment something to chuckle at.

“For a chance to make a mess of Humanis? Any price is right in my book,” he grinned.

Scratch felt like saying something. Her face scrunched up into an awful scowl. Eventually she let out a deep sigh as she stood up to leave.

“Yeah? Well next time my crew digs up another sob story I’ll let you know. See how you like contending with gas attacks for less than the cost of my fragging leg.” She angrily slapped her cyberleg.

“Good night, Scratch.” Lefty waved.

The alcohol had already worn off and she dreaded heading back to the garage. The sight of Garland in a pile of smoking scrap in the back of her van sucked the energy right out of her. She would have to figure out something soon. The other members of her team might be satisfied with good feelings, but she had more pressing issues. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever. Before she got back in her car she looked over her shoulder. Maybe she could find a scrapyard in the city to vent her frustration before going back. She had to get it all out somehow so she could keep it as professional as she could.

[cloudbattrolls]

GLIESE: Break into a seadweller hive.

This is the log so far of a roleplay @anontrolls​ and I have done on discord until now!

Summary: Having lost a coat to an alleyway stabbing Lee needs help breaking into his old house to retrieve more of his belongings. Gliese volunteers, which seems like a perfectly fun idea... until they run into the hive occupant.

You did not sufficiently think this through. 

Your ancestor's hive is largely underwater, true to traditional seadweller fashion. Your block has always been in the dry portion (much to your old man's disapproval) simply for the ease of keeping certain types of material items when waterproofing is not required, but the main entrance is deep enough underwater that Gliese's ears would pop out of her skull before she ever made it. 

Also true to fashion, the windows to your room are pretty high up. There's no way to get up the smooth marble walls without a significant boost, and you don't realize this until you are squinting up at said windows. 

"Ah," you start eloquently, "How do you feel about... seeing how high you can throw me?"

--

If Karina ever hears about this, she’ll rip your ears off and feed them to you.

Fortunately, you have the good taste required to not give a shit what she thinks unless you have to. You rescued Pheres that one time and got away with it; why should this be any different? 

Part of you whispers that this is a much bigger deal than just grabbing a maroon, at least in the Empire’s eyes, and that maybe messing with a very prominent violet when there’s no fleet to protect you might not be the smartest thing you’ve ever done. 

But like hell were you going to let Lee do it himself. 

Since it’d be unwise to give your usual snort, you roll your eyes at him from behind your mask. Not black - what is this, some cheesy movie? - but dark blue, and equipped with emergency breathing devices just in case god forbid you have to get wet for a bit. 

“Great idea, what trash can did you fish it out of?” You reply idly, only realizing the pun too late and sighing. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a better one.” 

You put on your rocket boots, a pair with silencers attached. You experimented with them earlier, and it isn’t perfect - they’re too loud for that - but it keeps them from causing a giant racket. Smirking slightly, you gesture for him to come closer. 

“Into my loving arms, Lee, time’s wasting.”

--

"Hey," you grumble, "It's not as though I go breaking into places very often, darling, I'm hardly bristling with a repertoire of larcenous plans - and most trolls would consider that a good thing."

"- But nice pun," you tack on, and do precisely nothing to stifle the smarmy smile. 

Her suggestion, on the other hand, does a much better job of that. You actually have no idea what she's suggesting - what, do her boots bounce? - but you're practically contractually obligated to jump into 'loving arms' when invited. 

So you do! "Oh, sweetheart," you declare, pretending to swoon into Gliese, "I thought you'd never ask!"

--

“Ooh, ‘larcenous plans’, huh? I don’t have those either, but I do have lots of useful life skills beyond radiating sparkles and fluttering my eyelashes.”

You smirk as you say it, though it morphs into a scowl as he smiles with insufferable smarm. Dick. Lee’s so light for his size that you almost stumble because you expect more resistance than you get; he feels as thin as you did before you joined fleet. Not that you’re bulky now by any stretch of the imagination, but you have more muscle and less bone showing than you did a sweep ago.

“Bite me.” You reply, before hitting them at the right angle to the ground to turn them on and rising into the air at a slow pace, then faster as you click them together. 

You slow as you reach Lee’s window, hovering up and down a few feet back and forth outside it (the boots aren’t really made for staying static).

“All right, fishnugget, what’s the best way to get in here without tripping alarms, if there are any?”

--

"The sparkles are largely photoshop, actually-" you start, lifting a finger, and promptly yelp, clutching at Gliese haphazardly and significantly more frantically than you were before she started raising the two of you into the air.

"Only if you ask nicely," you still manage to squeeze out, because the joke was already on the tip of your tongue before you were airborne. You're a mite too frazzled now to make another, which is a shame, because there's probably something to be said about the fact that you've gone and wrapped your legs around her waist in fear of falling off.

The breeze ruffling your hair about your face (you have to spit some out your mouth at one point that you're fairly sure was actually Gliese's) stills somewhat after a few moments, and you squeeze a single eye open when Gliese asks her question.

"My block," you gasp, and gesture very vaguely in the appropriate direction. "Turned off the window alarm ages ago. Bad for daycaps and shenanigans. Oh, goodness."

Okay, eyes closed again.

--

You snicker in a tone too low for him or most trolls (except you and Kit) to hear.

Only for a second; you focus on his words and your face slides back into seriousness. “You wish.” is your last, kinda lame response to this biting comment. At least he’s holding on tightly, because you’d be real fucking pissed if you had to go catch him.

Well, that’s reassuring. He sounds like he’s going to pass out.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to hope Fuckface Senior hasn’t turned it on again.” You retort.

If only you had one of those fancy devices that can detect security sensors, but you don’t exactly have that kind of resource anymore; the separatists have some tech, but they’re a lot more careful with how they dole it out.

Still, it’s worth the risk; any other route would be a huge pain in the ass and slow to boot. You zoom up to its edge and, very carefully, lower the speed enough to get yourself and Lee in but not lose all your lift.

Your knees are bent rather uncomfortably and you had to tilt your neck to avoid bashing your horns, but the two of you are inside now and you stand back up, boots off. The damn mask is making your face sweaty, though.

“Get off me and let’s get this done.”

--

The lock might be disabled, but the window is still shut, and it takes a bit of scrabbling on your part to get the window open enough for you and Gliese to tumble through - and tumble is absolutely what you do, releasing your death-grip on Gliese and practically sliding to the ground before she's through with her sentence. 

"Mnh," you moan into the carpet, spreading your arms until you're sufficiently certain of your full-body contact with solid ground. "Can we take the long way out? I fancy a swim after that, my dear."

Glancing up, you... are rather surprised to see that not much has changed since you left. You're not even sure your ancestor bothered to come in here after booting you out. Your clothes are still in half-disarray from your haphazard packing, and your keyboard is still right there, folded up with its stand and entirely prepared for you to grab it and run.

But, well. So long as you're here...

You snatch a rather larger bag than is required for this endeavor out of your sylladex, and start stuffing it with clothes and the rest of your belongings.

No sense in leaving more of your things behind if you don't have to! It's not as though Hiro doesn't have the closet space.

Besides, it's a good distraction from watching Gliese out of the corner of your eye, wondering what she thinks of the one place you've ever really considered your own space. It's a weird sort of vulnerability, to have someone in here - even your, uh, recreational guests, you usually took to some other room. No need for a one-day stand to screw up your record collection.

--

“Sure, whatever.” You reply in a low tone, not really caring one way or the other. You can’t say swimming is your favorite activity - water’s so damn cold - but you came prepared. You just hope the pair of you have that luxury and don’t leave chased by security droids.

Place is quiet as a burial mound so far, though, not that you trust it. Your ears are pricked for the slightest sound that’s not the pair of you. The room itself is…pretty typical for a fish who spends most of his time being a social butterfly, you guess. You’re kind of surprised it’s not more glitzy. Soft snickering escapes when you see giant posters of himself.

“Wow, Lee, didn’t take you as the egotistical type. Guess you proved me wrong.”

Then you notice the vanity, and your brow furrows. Is that a quad? It’s none of your business, really, but you can’t help wondering. Lee didn’t strike you as the type to quad any lower than teal, but who knows.

“Nice records, though.” You admit. You loved antiques when you were a kid; you can tell he’s got some rare stuff in there.

--

You blink, staring at Gliese for a moment. 'Not egotistical.' It takes you a spot longer than it should to put together a response.

"Me?" you ask. "Not shallow enough to put posters of myself up? Goodness, darling, where have you been living?"

You perk up when she compliments your music collection, though. "Hey, thanks," you say, grinning, "I'd offer a listen, but, ah, as unlikely as it is, I'm not actually entirely certain the old man isn't home, and it's best not to risk the noise, I think. It's a pity I'm leaving most of them here, though - I suppose that means you're free to whatever catches your fancy. Leastways they won't be rotting in here or sold off."

The thought is frankly actually seriously depressing, and you go back to speedily sorting through your clothing to distract yourself. Sweeps spent collecting, and it's all gone to shit, now. And the records are the absolute least of it.

--

“Somewhere I’d barely heard of you before you became scandalous.” You retort, then regret it slightly. You grimace, flicking your ears.

“Not that I care about that. You’re fine, if a fucking dweeb, all that junk is ridiculous anyway.”

Nice save, Benral. He probably won’t be too hurt and if he is, whatever, it’s not your problem.

He looks so stupidly happy you half want to punch the dumb grin off his face. The two of you are breaking in, even if it’s technically his place. You have to stay on guard.

“Yeah, no. We need to get in and out.” You pause to listen. Nothing, you think, except the distant ocean. It’s weird how low-security the place is.

You look at Lee’s records, but only one stands out to you. Its label has a faded troll curled up in a blue rose.

“Huh. Flower Fellow.” You muse, then tentatively reach out. Should you, even if Lee said it’s all right? Well. He has a point about it rotting in here. The thought saddens you, for some stupid reason, and your expression darkens. You take it very carefully and put it in your sylladex.

“Thanks.” You say, a bit uncertainly. Ugh, you’re probably making too big of a deal out of this.

You watch him go through clothing, curious despite yourself.

“So you really like being a model? Or was that just for the cameras.”

--

You can feel the corners of your mouth turning down almost entirely against your will, and turn away from Gliese to fiddle with the sleeve of a dress shirt. Have you brought anything with you that matches this shade off off-white, or do you have to stick with your minimalist neutrals?

"Well," you murmur, "I appreciate the stamp of approval."

If not the accompanying declaration that the things you care about are ridiculous junk. 

Well, not all the things you care about. She's here helping you pick up your stuff, isn't she? And you've retrieved quite the collection already, even without considering your keyboard. It's time to start stuffing it into your sylladex.

Gliese seems to have the same idea, because you watch her pocket a record, as gingerly as you've ever seen her do anything. She glances back at you as she does, very nearly looking worried, and you grin encouragingly. You're happy she'll be able to take something from this for herself.

Her question, though, you're not sure how to answer with any level of expediency.

"Sort of?" you try. "I mean, it's like anything you do, really, isn't it? One likes certain aspects and dislikes others! I enjoy being a model, of course, and it certainly is the perfect occupation for someone whose primary skills in life pretty much amount to being pretty and - well, I'd say posing well, but half the time you're getting moved around like a doll anyways."

"That's the part that's always a little odd," you admit. "I'm sure it's the same for everyone else at the casting calls, too, but it's still somewhat disconcerting when people forget you're a person and not a figurine."

You once walked into a photoshoot, one you'd already been signed for, with a rather well-known photographer. You hadn't had time to change, yet, but she had just flung some - you don't even remember what it was, some sort of faux-leather thing patterned after snake scales, and told you to strip right there in front of the whole crew.

And when you'd gotten topless, laughing airily as your fingers stumbled over the buttons of your shirt, she finally looked at you for the second time as though just remembering you presence, and practically barked a laugh. 'No,' she said, 'That's not going to work.'

And she walked out the door.

And that was that. You were too stunned to cry about it. You didn't even get paid.

You are not going to tell Gliese that story.

--

Damn it. How do you fix this? Should you even try before you make it worse? Ugh. He’s clearly upset and you’re not sure why.

“I mean-“ you start and then stop, biting your lip. You hate this. “I mean...you’re fine, Lee, because you’re not...things people say can fucking hurt, but you’re better than all that. You’re...a good guy.”

Please let that be right. You look weak and stupid right now and it fucking sucks. You turn away from him so he doesn’t have to see your blue face.

But you listen with your long ears as you look at the rest of his stuff. It’s nice, though obviously it would be, he’s violet. It must have been hard to leave this all behind.

He’ll deal, you remind yourself. You did when you joined fleet. What he says makes you manage to turn back around, face curious and ears tilted quizzically.

“Like what? Do people push you around or something? Who’d even try that on a seadweller.” You say, snorting. Lee may be a weenie, but he’s still violet. Pushing him too far would still be a mistake for anyone lower than you.

--

You bite your lip to stifle a totally inappropriate smile. Gliese is really trying, and, okay, watching her drag the words out like she's navigating an eggshell obstacle course is a tad bit hilarious. It's like someone that just realized they've been insulting the sweets at a gala to the confectioner's face and is trying to save face.

You glance back out of the side of your eye, and she's turned away - but that doesn't stop you seeing that Gliese is blue to the tips of her ears.

Aw, you can't even be miffed anymore. You sidle over and elbow her gently.

"Don't hurt yourself," you tell her sweetly, and then dart away laughing, almost expecting her to jokingly swipe at you - but that's just the echo of Thistle's shadow in your mind.

Then she asks about the modeling thing, and you're back to trying to figure out what kind of go you're going to take on the subject. "Well, no," you admit, "It's hardly as though I get shoved around, or anything! There's simply a certain... perception, I suppose, or perhaps a lack thereof. The photographers and designers are...artistes-" You nearly snicker. "- And utterly beyond the concerns of such things as remembering who they're dressing or posing is not quite a mannequin, you know? As in, stylists pulling hair out, or photographers literally moving you around bodily, etcetera."

"- And not all of them, of course!" you're quick to qualify, because, well, yeah, you do (did?) actually have non-model friends in this industry.

[helviiryn]

On Scouting and Goblins

Scout, but try not to engage. A easy enough task, or at least it was a task that was meant to be easy. After Nimruil dropped Inithelian off somewhere near Daelin's Point, he took a moment to gather his surroundings and plot the best course of action ahead. Walking through the locals, he could catch whispering and idle chatter and gossip. Everyone's topic at hand? Naga. Great, was all the blood mage thought to himself. Fish people, just what I needed, Ini should have taken this place instead. Nimruil sighed to himself, adjusting the rapier at his side to tighten it's leather harness. The path most logical out of the fort, that is where he would go. However the path most logical, he would also quickly find was somewhat not the best; discovery of blockades and militia posted, and in the distance on the coast....Naga. He stopped clear before he even got to the exit of the fort and heaved a sigh. "Of course, why did I possibly think the roads would be clear. Oh no, fucking fish people just have to ruin my day." He grumbled audibly to himself, raising brows from the locals as he backtracked the way he came. Side areas, he would have to trudge around side areas, which judging by the local meant wading through farmlands and hills. Great.

A break in the wall from earlier bombardments with Naga harpoons, and a little jump down, and Nim slipped past the walls of the fort  to land on the outskirts. The first thing he did was check the perimeter near him, just to see if there were any nasties in the direct vicinity. He saw nothing, at least not to the naked eye. He had great eyesight....when it wasn't bright ass sunlight. Even with lenses in his mask he always had a harder time seeing in the daylight. Squinting up at the sun, hand shrouding over the eyes of his mask, Nim took stock of what direction he was in, and where he needed to go. North, he needed to go North...and there was North with just a little turn of his body. Hand gripping the hilt of his rapier, and off he went. Heels had to carefully pick through the rocky, grassy terrain of what was essentially coastal farmland as far as the eye can see. Nim's head was on a swivel, eyes darting from side to side, he didn't really want to be caught unaware by a Naga...or worse, one of their Sea Giants they allied with.

Nothing was really known of the location that Mac had given him, other than warnings of Naga, which he could clearly see on the horizon. Naga, Sea Giants and absolutely massive creatures in which resembled a eel that grew far too large for their own goods. Nim kept to the edges, cutting through the hills to end up on the coast near the little island he was tasked in observing, steering clear from the Naga entirely; let the locals handle that, it wasn't exactly his pressing problem in the moment. At a distance as he watched the island grow closer on the horizon, the man initially thought that his area might have actually been promising, but nothing would have prepared him for how fundamentally wrong he was.

It was the scent that hit him first, a scent he knew all too well from all of his time spent with Mordred. The heavy, cloying scent of oil clogging his keen senses, stuffing his nose. The air grew heavy with it the closer he approached the coast between shoreline and island, a scent that combined with the distinct tang of metal. Clanking, whirring, cogs and wheels echoing a racket along the water; heavy machines were heard first, and seen second once Nim had actually stepped foot on the beach. His jaw dropped. The waters were thick and viscous, blackened by oil slicking the very tops of once pristine salt waters. Plumes of smoke belched in the air from the machines dotted along the coast, sinking into the earth like his own fangs sunk into a bite.

Shouts off to his side shook him from his reverie, snapping his focus to the source of the disturbance. The crude language and slang of Goblins assaulted his ears, as several of the creatures themselves started sprinting for Nim. "*Shit," He swore to himself, and took off into a sprint further down the coastline, directed away from the distant fort. Sand kicked up by his heels, spraying behind him as he trudged through, but running in sand was gods awful and didn't exactly allow his full potential. Lungs burned and legs pounded, attention hyper focused ahead of him. That is, until a explosion abruptly rocketed at his side, sending shrapnel and heated sand flying all around the magi. He hissed, throwing his hands up to protect himself from the rain of debris, though some metal had tore through the softer bits of his armors to rip bloodied wounds dotted along his body. A quick glance threw over his shoulder to quick what was happening, and it was a glance just in time to see that several of the maybe eight or so Goblins had rocket launchers trained on him. Directing his attention away, even for a split second, while still running would prove hazardous for Nim, as his run had him barreling straight for a oil spill slicking up the sand ahead of him. Footing slipping from under him, lean body flailed into a slide akin to that of someone on a frozen lake without blades. His body tumbled forward, flipping and rolling through the sand to dirty himself with beach debris and thick stains of oil; making him look like the strangest abstract painting of sand, oil and blood.

Though fate almost seemed kind, in a ironic twist, it was his fall that saved his life as the three rockets shot at him went zooming straight over his head; barely just missing contact with him in a close degree that was not at all comfortable. The rockets shot ahead of him, exploding upon contact with the beach to send more waves of sand into the air and crash down in a messy heap. Dirty, pissed, and with something of a twisted ankle now, Nim grit his teeth in a lowly growl rumbling within his chest. The magi flipped himself from his stomach to his back, facing the oncoming Goblins still shouting at him in that horrid dialect of theirs. He smirked behind his expressionless, blood wept mask as both hands raised. One gloved tugged down, exposing the dark grey of his palm only for the width of his flesh to be sliced into by a sharpened silver thumb ring adorning him. A flash of sanguine, a aura of red and wide, wicked eyes glinted behind his mask with a cruel and unseen grin. The Goblins had no idea what as coming, had not clue, and had no way to prepare.

Both of Nim's hands rose towards the Goblins with that vibrant bloody glow twisting around long fingers, muttering incoherently under his breath with a reverb to his voice that sounded....wholly unnatural, wholly unholy. It wouldn't be quick, wouldn't even be noticeable at first by the Goblins, in fact they would be allowed to get closer and closer to Nim before they would start to really feel the start of their demise. It would start with a little heat, perhaps they were just running too hard, or the fuses of their rockets a little too potent. Then came the sweats and the sluggishness, slowing their run down from stubby little legs moving frantically to stumbling about. Then would come the confusion, the delirium as the heat rose steadily within their body. A fever, but not just any fever, a fever controlled by the twisting of blood manipulation. Slower, slower, hotter, hotter....the Goblins were forced into a complete halt nearly at Nim's feet. They panted and yelped, clawing at themselves as if to dig into a unseen itch....or to open their veins and vent the heat building within them. A little fever would become a liquid wildfire running through their bodies. Green skin started to physically bubble as the blood in their very bodies turned against them and *boiled* like a pot left too long on the burner. Screams of agony, and then the dull thud of collapsing corpses, and the Goblins which sought to end Nim, were snuffed out. 

Satisfied by his magic's work, Nim smoothly brought himself to a stand, brushing his hands along his armors to flake off excess sand. A deep scowl was brought to his face, however, when he looked at the state of himself. New armors tattered by shrapnel, pieces of metal still sticking out of his skin, and oil smudged absolutely everywhere. He was going to need to bring those in for repairs and professional cleaning, and he wasn't the happiest about it. He leaned down, swiping one of the rocket launchers away from a dead Goblin, uncaring on the roughness of removing it from his grasp. If someone was going to show him the disrespect of shooting missiles at him, he wasn't going to show the respect of careful loot recovery. He turned the contraption in his hands over a few times, humming to himself. "Mord will like this." He stated to himself out loud before hoisting the thing over his shoulder. "Fuck this place." Was his firm stance on his section of the coast. With little more fanfare, Nim stepped over several dead Goblins, picking his way between them and made a definite journey back to the fort. He was officially done with this place.

[ariofourpointo]

By the Order of Peaky Blinders

Cillian Murphy is an amazing actor. I had realized this long ago when I watched him portraying the antagonist on "Red Eye". His acting was so eye-catching that I didn't even mind looking for the name of the protagonist (Rachel McAdams - damn she's attractive, and her performances are convincing). "This guy is something else", I reckoned. I never regret those thoughts.

Murphy is a constant presence on Christopher Nolan's filmography. Scarecrow on Dark Knight Trilogy? That's him. The rich man with father issues on Inception? Him as well. Disturbed soldier on Dunkirk? Yeah, you got my point. Cillian Murphy is a legend in the making, IMO.

Lately, I discovered that Murphy casted as the main protagonist on a British television series: Peaky Blinders. It is a historical epic drama which takes post-World War I (WW-I) Birmingham as its setting. Economy depression is seen in the foreseeable future. Communist revolution is looming as labor strikes plague the industrious island of Great Britain. Irish Republican Army (IRA) is ready to strike whenever there is chance. It is a time of tumultuous situations. Yet, some group of people see it as golden opportunity to rise beyond the top.

Introducing Thomas Shelby, the second oldest son of the Shelby family. He is a WW-I veteran alongside his brothers, Arthur and John. After returning from the war, they start to run racketeering activities (bookmaking, protection, smuggling, and robbery) under the flagship of Peaky Blinders.

Yes, it is a name of a "family company" belongs to the Shelbys. They are respected, or maybe feared to be exact, around their district of Small Heath. They own a pub named "The Garrison" which is iconic as the place where they hold family meetings to defend their territory, or sometimes to expand their empire.

"This place is named The Garrison. Today, it will be our garrison against Billy Kimber," says Tommy, just before the beginning of the bloody confrontation on season 1 finale.

Figuratively satisfying.

That battle near The Garrison is a milestone for the Blinders. They manage to expand their territory of bookmaking dealings to racecourses outside their traditional coverage. Thanks to Tommy's intelligent and diplomatic ability, the family company starts to be recognized among the big fishes.

[Opening scene of the pilot. Thomas Shelby was born riding, as his Gypsy blood implies.]

The second season portrays how Tommy schemes to enter the London market. He finds the opportunity arrising from the conflict between the Jewish and the Italian mobsters. The Jews gang's leader, Alfie Solomons, is played flawlessly by Tom Hardy, another A-list British actor who has worked with Chris Nolan on several occasions. Do you like his performance as Bane on The Dark Knight Rises? You will absolutely love Hardy as Alfie, a Jewish Bane.

["Arfur? Arfur! Shalom!"]

The season 2 finale is so crispy. It doesn't end in blood bath but surely there is enough blood being spilled. Twisting as it might be, it turns out satisfying. From this point onward, Tommy is focusing his effort to make his business completely legal, abandoning the old business. What can go wrong, right?

Season 3 begins with a bang (literally), and things keep banging throughout the episodes. You may recognize the word "Bolshevik" if you pay enough attention to the world history between WW-I and 1991. But do you recognize "Minshevik"? Well, you better start to enlighten yourself if you want to enjoy this season. There will be scenes of "mad house" owned by Princess Tatiana Petrovna (a charmingly mad woman herself) and her family seeking refuge from the "red scare" in their homeland. There will also be priest, there will be separatists, and finally, there will be horror, especially if you have kids.

The latest season of all, the fourth, is my personal favorite. The Shelbys must deal with "black hands" from across the Atlantic, whose capo is seeking vendetta for his late father, gunned down by Arthur as an act of mercy. It was during this season I just realized how good Adrien Brody is (he is an Oscar-winning actor apparently). His Brooklyn slash Italian-American accent resembles Marlon Brando's Vito Corleone. It is mindblowing, methodically hooks me on point, reminds me why I cherish The Godfather trilogy highly.

["What accent is that?"; "American 😎."]

John is dead. But his life is avenged thanks to Michael (cousin to the brothers) who is sent by Tommy as delegation to deal with Alphonse Capone (yes, that Al f'in Capone). Yes, that is a spoiler (muhahaha) but I even could enjoy watching "Red Wedding" episode of Game of Thrones even though I already knew how it would end. So, don't let this review stop you to enjoy the perennial art works of this classic British TV series.

You will learn many things: family value, rise from the rags to riches, class struggle, how to woo rich women, and most importantly, furbizia.

Watch it, and let me know your opinion.

By the order of Peaky f'in Blinders!

[gladrial]

Milk Run

FF.net

A03

Summary: The Joker goes  on a milk run.  …Pretty much exactly what it sounds like.  JokerxHarley

He surveyed the faces around him in the dim light, trying to read them for any tells as they all took inventory of the cards fanned out in front of them.  It was the same circle of lunatics he was accustomed to at these rare poker games that Cobblepot occasionally arranged, with the exception that Crane was among them this time.  He usually chose not to participate.

The Joker brought his cigarette to his lips again and inhaled, considering Scarecrow closer.  He supposed he thought himself separate from the rest of them, above such things.  He wasn’t a gangster; he was a scientist.  As though the people of Gotham saw him differently than any of them.  What a joke.  He wondered if Crane realized as much.

A titter escaped his lips and everyone glanced his way in response, clearly already on the defense.  A man couldn’t even enjoy a good laugh these days without everyone wondering who was going to end up with a knife in their back next.  

Good.

“Problem?” Cobblepot asked him carefully.  

“Just thought of something funny,” he shrugged nonchalantly, but put on a slight menace to his grin that he had long ago perfected, just to keep everyone on edge.

“I’m sure,” Oswald commented dryly and they all returned to their cards.

Still, if Crane was here, he must be after something in particular.  He wondered if he should be concerned about that or be trying to figure out a way it could be used to his advantage.  But the way that Scarecrow kept regarding Eddie made Joker fairly certain he was after something the Riddler had, whatever that might be, and decided not to concern himself with it.

It was less of a game, after all, and more of a means of bartering for territory.  Which come to think of it, is as much of a game as anything else, he thought. And as with anything, the higher the stakes, the more he enjoyed playing.  

The ‘niceties’ of it all grated on him though.  He knew this for what it was: an attempt to negotiate while avoiding any of the bloodshed.  What happened to a good, old-fashioned turf war? Still, he had just won a large chunk of the protection racket on the west side from Harvey, so he continued to play along.

His phone rang, interrupting him from these musings.  He fished it out of his pocket and answered it without looking up from his cards.  

“And how’s my girl?” he asked. “Milk? Sure. Anything else?”  He tapped twice on the table with his knuckle.  “Maybe another hour.  Hold on. What?” he demanded of Harvey, looking annoyed at the interruption.

“We’re playing here,” Two-Face said.  “You throwing in or not?”

Joker glanced at his cards once more.

“Drug trade off Miller Harbor,” he offered and returned to his call. “Yeah, he’s here,” Joker confirmed over the phone, looking at Nygma.  “Uh-huh.  Yeah, it’s doing that thing it does.”  He made a sweeping motion with his hand over his head.  She thinks your hair is stupid, he mouthed to him silently.

Riddler scowled at him in return, but chose to direct his attention back to the game.

“Harley says hi,” he offered to the group chipperly as he hung up, before he noticed their smirking faces staring back at him.  “What?” he demanded.

“Milk?” Harvey finally commented.

“You got a problem with that?” he asked, lowering his cards.  

“No.  It’s just…you’re getting milk?” Two-face added vaguely.

“What do you use on your cereal?” Joker snarked.

“It’s not that,” Riddler jumped in, trying to explain. “But why isn’t she, y’know, getting the milk?”

Joker surveyed Nygma up and down briefly and replied, “…I can really see why you’re still single Eddie.”  He was rewarded with a circle of snickers at that.  “Besides I’d pay more attention to the game at hand rather than my day-to-day activities if I were you,” he added smugly, grandly throwing his cards on the table to a chorus of groans.

It was his turn to deal out the cards.  He shuffled them effortlessly and swiftly dealt them out across the table, while he took inventory of the room around him.  They all had a couple of enforcers handy just in case things got hairy.  Everyone except him.  It’s not that he was against that sort of thing, but he liked to keep everyone on their toes, never liked to be too predictable. His current abode wasn’t located too far from here anyway.  

“Hey!” he shouted to a couple of henchmen at the bar who he assumed were Penguin’s boys, both of whom looked apprehensive at being called out.  “Bring me a screwdriver!  Extra screwy!”

“Don’t order my men around, clown,” Oswald demanded. “Why didn’t you bring any protection of your own anyway?”

“Who says I didn’t?” he answered, revealing his gun from underneath his jacket and laying it on the table next to him.

“Cute,” Crane muttered, momentarily breaking his self-imposed silence.

“And maybe I’m in the market,” Joker suggested, loudly so they could hear him at the bar, enjoying their discomfort.  “What do you say about putting them up on this hand?” He laughed as both of the men looked petrified at the very idea.

“Speaking of, who’s putting up first?” Harvey impatiently interrupted.

“Hold on a second.  I want to get back on this,” Riddler redirected. “How exactly do you go about…getting milk?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Joker sneered, confused at the topic being returned to.  He was beginning to second guess whether he should have taken the phone call in front of everyone.  True, he kept things close to the vest.  They all did.  But this felt asinine.

“I mean…do you just walk in…and take it?” Eddie continued. “It’s not like you can blend in.”

Joker exhaled, smoke seeping out of of his mouth as he glared at Nygma.  

“Would you stop me from taking something I wanted?” he warned, all levity gone from his voice, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray next to him.

“Point taken,” Eddie conceded with a nod of the head.  

Joker only played a couple more hands.  It made sense to leave while at the top of his game and he was decidedly no longer in the mood.  

“Always a pleasure gents,” he generously offered, as he slid on the purple trench coat draped over the back of his chair.  “Let me know the next time I can make what’s yours mine.”

“Don’t forget the milk,” Two-Face snidely commented with smirk and was met with another round of chuckles from the group.

“I won’t forget to inform everyone you’re shaking down on your side of town that they’re paying me now,” Joker threw back jovially and enjoyed watching Harvey’s smirk devolve into a sneer.

He shouldn’t be in such a sour mood, he reflected as he made the drive home, the streets nearly empty on this side of town with the late hour.  After all, he’d just increased his hold on the city. But at the end of the day, they seemed more interested in a grocery run than the fact he was pushing his way into their territory.  

He pulled to the side of the road in front of a twenty-four hour convenience store and stepped inside without taking any notice of who was behind the counter, something he usually did because he loved seeing the look on their face as they wondered if today would be their last day for this earth.  But he was too lost in thought and instead headed mechanically for the wall of refrigerators.  Without thinking he also grabbed a couple of snack cakes and decided to pick up a pack of smokes on his way out as well.  

He reached behind the counter for them and there was the cashier cowered on the floor in a tight corner.

“Oh don’t mind me,” he commented lightly, as he snatched up his favorite brand. “How much?” he asked politely, innocent smile in place.

The cashier made a sort of wheezing sound and seemed to be trying to merge with the wall behind them.

“On the house you say?” he gasped in mock disbelief. “You’re far too kind. Why, with this kind of service I’ll have to make this a regular stop then, won’t I?”

He swept up his items and returned to the car.  The encounter did little to improve his mood though and his thoughts quickly returned to the night’s events.

It occurred to him that he could have done more against their quips, normally would have. But to be honest, it all confused him, and he was more fixated on figuring out why any of them would care about something so mundane than to how he would usually react.

I don’t get the joke, he realized as he parked, a notion that bothered him more than anything.

He headed into an alleyway that was the entrance to their current hideout, a crumbling, five-story brick structure that had originally been used as apartment housing long ago when the city was much younger. Northeast Gotham was in much need of updating and mostly abandoned with only the most desperate trying to scratch out a living here.  

“Harley!” he called, as he unceremoniously placed the jug of milk into the fridge.

“In bed!” she called back.

He walked into the room they had designated as the bedroom and saw her reclining in the dark, only illuminated by the shifting light of the television screen. The large t-shirt she was wearing rode up her bare thighs as she moved to a kneeling position on the bed, turning her attention towards him.

“I got you this while I was at the store.”  He tossed a snack cake toward her.

“My favorite,” she squeaked. “How was work?” she teased lightly, as she tore into the wrapper with her red nails.

“We own most of the west side now,” he replied glumly, removing his shoes and then flopping onto the bed next to her.

“Ooh!” she cooed approvingly, before adopting a thoughtful look.  “That’s going to spread our forces kinda thin though. We’ll need to do some recruiting. I suppose we could try to convert some of Harvey’s people already working the racket, would make things easier. Unless they cause problems because they don’t like the change in management, of course.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he commented dismissively.

“What’s wrong, Puddin’?” she pressed sweetly, setting her snack aside.

“I’m not sure.  That’s the problem,” he answered unhelpfully.  

“Well, let’s start by getting out of this,” she suggested, pulling at his coat, “And get you comfortable.”

“Getting undressed is your answer for everything,” he chided.  She giggled in response, which elicited a brief smile from him, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

“Seriously Puddin’, you just grew your territory,” she needled cautiously. “What could be bothering you?”

“It’s stupid. Insanely so, to the point that I don’t even…” he drifted off. “It’s because you asked me to pick up milk…I think?”

“…If it was a problem, I could have done it,” she offered, slightly confused.

“I was already out,” he shrugged.

“I know.  That’s the reason I asked,” she agreed. “…I don’t get it.”

“That makes two of us,” he concurred. “They seemed to think it was funny. That I was getting milk. …For some reason.”

“OH!” Harley laughed. “Okay, I get it now.”

“So you get the joke!” he demanded, his voice beginning to rise. “How dare you! After I bring you home a treat no less!”

“It’s not a joke, Puddin’. It’s just a ‘common folk’ thing,” she offered soothingly, complete with finger quotes.

“Oh,” he uttered with skeptical acceptance. “Explain.”

“I don’t think you quite understand how fascinating you are to the public,” she suggested.

“Of course I am!” he countered, sounding somewhat offended. “Honestly Harley, you’re supposed to be helping here.”

“Let me try again,” Harley began. “I don’t think you always understand in what way you fascinate the public. I’ve ended up in a lot of similar conversations with random people over the years, whether they be a reporter, someone in a neighboring cell, or even a cop pushing papers after I’ve been brought in. They ask me about you specifically. Do you know what kind of questions I get most of the time?”

“What’s the most heinous thing you’ve seen me do?” his suggested, eyes gleaming and smile growing across his face.  “Or maybe how many people you’ve seen me maim in one evening.  Or -“ Harley held up her hand to pause him.  

“Or ‘what’s his favorite sandwich?’”

He gaped at her in disbelief.

“What’s his current favorite tv show?  What’s his morning routine? Fucking boxers or briefs!” she recounted, ticking them off on her fingers.  “I’ve heard them all.”

“No,” he breathed in disgust. “Why?! Why would they do that when I’ve given them so many more entertaining things to discuss? Am I not trying fucking hard enough?” he demanded, slamming his fists on the mattress. “Because I feel like I’m trying pretty damn hard!”

“It’s not that Puddin’,” Harley soothed. “All the murder and mayhem, they love it! You know they do. It’s - Wait, I’ll show you.” She leaned over the bedside and grabbed a magazine full of the latest celebrity gossip.

“It’s like this,” she explained, turning to a page with a heading emblazoned on top that read ‘Stars: They’re Just Like Us’.

“See?” she pointed out. “People idolize these celebrities and find it hard to believe they’d do anything so mundane as shop for groceries or gas up their car, so when they see it, they’re all the more fascinated. The same goes for you, but multiplied by a thousand.”

Joker regarded the page thoughtfully.  “And the public…likes this trite garbage?”

“They eat this shit up,” she confirmed. “But they wouldn’t, if it didn’t come with all the chaos and carnage associated with you.”

He paused thoughtfully again before concluding, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know. It really is, but here I am reading it,” she conceded, tossing the magazine back to the floor.

“I’m not like them. Not in any way, shape, or form. Next time someone asks you an asinine question about me, you make sure they know that,” he ordered.

“Whatever you say, Puddin’,” she agreed, giving him a peck on the cheek as he distractedly reached for the remote control, unmuting the television.

“-avoid until further notice,” a reporter’s voice warned over an aerial video of a street full of panicked people.  “Some reports indicate the Riddler may also be involved in Scarecrow’s latest attack on the city, but have thus far have been unverified.”

“Called it!” Joker announced triumphantly.

“How’s that?” Harley asked.

“Crane and Eddie were eyeballing each other earlier tonight,” he explained.

“That’s not too far from here. We could get a closer look if you wanted,” she suggested, glancing at the ceiling.

Moments later they were both sitting on the rooftop of their dilapidated building, legs dangling over the side with two spoons in one carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream between them. Joker’s trench coat was draped around Harley against the slight chill in the night air.  In the distance, they could hear the collected screams of who knew how many people and the wail of police sirens speeding toward the commotion. Search lights lit up an area about ten blocks away and helicopters hovered overhead.

“It’s a nice night,” Harley sighed, blissfully.

“Wonder what he’s up to,” Joker commented absently. “Crane doesn’t usually work up this much fuss without a reason.”

“I don’t know why Eddie’s involved.  Maybe he owed Crane a favor.  But I do have a theory about Scarecrow,” Harley offered.

“Oh yeah,” Joker challenged.

“Yeah,” she confirmed smugly. “Lately there’s been some talk in the papers of some of his victims, y’know, a few people here, a couple of people there.”

“That’s usually his M.O.,” Joker agreed.

“But here’s the thing,” Harley continued, swallowing another spoonful of ice cream. “These victims all claimed to have hallucinated the same thing.”

“No kidding,” Joker mused. “Did he purposefully go after people with the same phobia?”

“I don’t think so,” Harley answered. “People have specific fears, sure, but humanity has fears we all innately share. For example, the fear of snakes is very common, even if it isn’t something you necessarily fear the most.”

“What’s your point?” he asked.

“My point is, striking fear based on someone’s specific phobia is very powerful, but it’s random and uncontrollable. However striking the same fear in a group of people simultaneously, well, that has a power all its own,” she explained. “Imagine everyone around you confirming your hallucinations.  That, and you could theoretically guide that group fear to…well, I’m not sure what, but it’s interesting. Anyway, I think he’s perfected the method and is trying it out on a grander scale.”

Joker gave her a knowing look, a small explosion in the distance interrupting the silence between them.

“What?” she tittered under his gaze.

“You’ve been reading more of your psychology nonsense again, haven’t you?” he said accusingly, pointing a finger at her.

“Listen, if you didn’t want to date a psychiatrist, you shouldn’t have been so forward,” she suggested haughtily.

“I spend half my time in Arkham. Who else was I supposed to meet?” he teased back.

Suddenly a great light spread out into the sky and their eyes followed its trail to the batsignal glowing above them.

“About time!” Joker smiled. “Now the real show can begin.” He looked toward the center of chaos forlornly. “I do wish I could play too though.”

“We can head over if you really want to,” Harley suggested, straightening her posture, looking ready for anything.He regarded her enthusiasm fondly for a moment.  

“Let Crane and Eddie have their fun,” he decided.  “Besides, I have the west side to play with tomorrow!”

[shielddrake]

Rebel of Sky City Ch. 17

Sorry for the long wait.  This chapter bugs me.  Still not completely happy with it, but moving on.

 Chapter Seventeen

“Will you take me as I am?”

 “Hey, Lukas?”

 “Mercy, mercy, why didn’t we hear it?”

“Yeah, Petra?”

 “Let your soul gravitate to the love y’all.”

 “Will you whack your dad for me?”

“And the bloody changes…”

 “He’s on the other side of his cell. I can’t reach.”

 “And the streets are full of strangers.”

 “Does he have to keep singing?”

 “Let your soul gravitate to the love y’all.”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“And the bloody changes…”

 Petra jumped up from her mat in the corner. “Stop it! Stop it! I can’t take it anymore!”

 “Whoa!” Lukas stood as well and held onto the bars to look towards her cell. “Petra, calm down!”

“Milo, I swear if you don’t stop, I’m going to break through these blocks and punch you out!” Petra hollered.

“Sorry, Petra,” Milo said, stopping his chants. “There’s only so much one can do when in prison.”

“There’s only so much one can take of your singing,” she shouted. “No offense, but you’re not the best singer around.”

 Lukas couldn’t help but smile. “She’s right, you know, Dad.”

Milo huffed as the entrance to the dungeon opened and Gill stepped through. He glanced at the prisoners and pulled out his sword.

“What’s all the racket about?” He ran his sword across the bars of the cells, the metal clangs echoing through the room. The jailbirds held their ears at the sound. “No talking. Prisoners aren’t supposed to talk.”

“That’s probably the longest single sentence I’ve ever heard you say,” Petra taunted. “Has The Founder given you crafting materials for brains?”

“Shut up, Petra,” Gill ordered, though the redhead didn’t seem inclined to obey. “You don’t scare me. Now the tables have turned, and you got to do what I say.”

 “Yeah right.” Petra crossed her arms and allowed a smirk to grace her lips. “As if you have any authority around here.”

 “When Aiden takes over, I’m going to have plenty of authority,” Gill announced. He put his sword away and crossed his arms.

“When Aiden takes over?” Lukas put his hands around the bars and stared at the guard. “What are you talking about?”

“Mum’s the word for now.” Gill chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“Gill!” Everyone’s attention turned to the doorway again, where Axel was just entering the dungeons. “Gabriel wants to see you. Says it’s your turn for your interview.”

 Gill rolled his eyes and sighed. “Right. Whatever. See you losers later.”

 He made his way out of the dungeons, knocking Axel in the shoulder as his left. Axel rubbed his arm where Gill had made contact, but otherwise ignored him. He shook his head once the door was close and then looked at Petra.

“How are you holding up?” he asked her, his voice rather quiet for him.

“Fine, I guess,” she replied with a shrug. Petra glanced away for a split second. “What’s going on out there?”

“You’ve kind of put everyone on edge about who can be trusted in the Guard. Captain Reginald suspects a coup.” Axel put his hands on his hips and looked down at her. “Petra, tell it to me straight. Did you join the Guard to try to get to the Eversource?”

 Petra glanced over at Lukas, who just nodded his head. Everything was out in the open now. Might as well be truthful.

 “I wasn’t trying to get the Eversource. I wanted to see if I could get my hands on some more materials for our club. Build Club. Sure you’ve heard about it by now.” At Axel’s nod, she continued. “Why? Where’d you hear I was after the Eversource?”

 “That’s what Aiden’s saying,” Axel said. “But he’s a jerk, so I couldn’t be sure.”

“Sounds like Aiden,” Lukas added with a roll of his eyes.

 “Yeah, trying to foist the blame on us.” Petra felt like punching the bars, and she might have if Axel hasn’t been in front of her. “The Founder actually is listening to him?”

“Yeah. Seems he and The Founder have become all buddy-buddy,” he described. Axel scuffled his foot. “Makes him think he can order all of us around. Spouting commands left and right.”

 “And The Founder’s not doing anything about it? That’s just great.” Lukas groaned. “What about Jesse? How’s she doing?”

 Axel shook his head. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen her since you guys were brought in.”

 “Hope she’s okay,” Lukas whispered.

 “No kidding,” Petra agreed.

 “What’s this about a coup?” Milo asked, speaking up for the first time in a while.

 “The Founder’s all worried that others in the Guard are trying to overthrow her, and you're involved in it somehow,” he explained. “The captain’s questioning everyone about it.”

 “That’s news to me,” Petra stated. “I never heard of another guard who wants to overthrow The Founder.”

 “Is that what The Founder thinks Build Club was doing?” Milo inquired. “That we were sending people into the Guard to get the Eversource?”

“That’s the theory anyway,” Axel answered him, giving the older man a small smile. “You’re not, right?”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Milo conceded.

 Lukas banged his head against the bars. “Not now, Dad.”

“Other than me, no one in Build Club is also in the Guard,” Petra replied honestly, looking Axel in the eye.

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment before speaking again. “So, getting into the Guard and all that, it was all a lie?”

The redhead sighed, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. I wasn’t in the Guard to protect Sky City. I wanted to get resources. That’s all.”

“It was a lie,” Axel summarized succinctly. He shifted from one foot to the other. “What about me? Was our friendship a lie too?”

 “No way.” Petra’s gaze snapped up to his. “You’d actually think that?”

 “Petra, you’re the first person who didn’t treat me like I was just some, well, loser. That I wasn’t some coward who was just around to be the butt of a joke.” Axel let out a long breath. “Why would you act like a friend to someone like me, if it wasn’t as a way to get something?”

 Petra rested her forearms against the bars, leaning forward to look him straight in the eye.

 “If you believe I ever thought that, Axel, then you really are a dummy.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. “Yeah, you screw things up sometimes, but we all do. You’re a funny guy. You’ve made Jesse and me laugh tons of times, and we were laughing with you, not at you.”

 “And who’s calling you a coward?” Lukas chimed in. “I remember when we first met. I went to talk to Aiden, and the moment you thought something was going to happen, you jumped in and told him to back off. Doesn’t sound like a coward to me.”

Axel smiled a bit sheepishly. He glanced at the dungeon door. “I swear I didn’t come down here to fish for compliments.”

“What do you mean?” Petra asked. She watched as he walked over to the switch controlling the doors. “Axel, what are you doing?”

He stood in front of the switch. He looked over his shoulder at her with the most serious expression Petra had ever seen on Axel’s face.

 “Look, I might be in the Guard, but we’re friends,” he said. “And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Axel, are you…”

 Now the large man smirked. “You know me, Petra. There’s supposed to be a guard in here at all times, but I’m a big, fat idiot who can’t go a moment without eating.”

 “And now he’s insulting himself again,” Lukas muttered. “Why did we try to cheer him up?”

 Petra shushed him.

“I was thinking I’d go down to the pantry to get some bread,” he described. “To satisfy my endless hunger, you know?”

 Petra immediately caught on. “And how long would you say something like that would take you?”

“Probably about as long as it would take someone to get from here to the front gate.” Axel flipped the switch, opening the doors to the cells. “I can’t say you won’t run into anyone on the way, but this is the best I can do.”

“No, Axel. This is great!” Petra ran up to him and gave him one of her rare hugs. “Thank you!”

 Axel’s face was a little red when she pulled away, and he cleared his throat.

 “Young man, we owe you a debt of gratitude,” Milo said.

 “Definitely.” Lukas stepped forward to shake his hand in thanks.

 Axel headed for the doorway. “You guys better be gone before I get back. I don’t want to have to throw you back in the cells.”

“We will be,” Petra promised. “Thanks again.”

 Axel headed out of the dungeons, not looking back. Milo rushed to a chest on the other side of the room where their belongings had been stored. He pulled out his things before throwing Lukas and Petra’s respective inventories. For some reason, this included Petra’s sword from the Guard.

 “Guess it's considered mine?” she figured as she swung it a few times. “Not going to complain though.”

“Come on,” Lukas said. “Axel’s right. We got to get out of here while we have the chance.”

The trio didn’t have much of an opportunity to see the inside of the palace during the daytime. Thus, being in it during nighttime was a disorienting experience to say the least. Most of the halls were dark, no torches to light the way. And without windows to provide limited starlight there wasn’t much to allow them to see. Lukas could only hope that Petra had the muscle memory to lead them to an unguarded exit.

 If there was an unguarded exit.

 It wasn’t long before Petra held up a hand, halting them in their tracks at a corner with a torch. Since she was the only one armed out of the three, she would be the one doing any battling. Any guards they would run into would have swords. If either Lukas or Milo tried to fight, it would not end well.

 Petra stayed at the corner of the intersection, keeping to the shadows well enough to not be seen. Lukas and Milo watched as she jumped out and stuck her sword forward. There was a gasp, and Lukas swore he could’ve heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled.

However, rather than starting a fight, Petra cried out. “Jesse?!”

Milo and Lukas glanced at each other and then ran into the open. Sure enough, there was Jesse, standing rigidly straight as the tip of Petra’s sword barely nicked her throat. Olivia stood to the side, her bow ready with an arrow, but she immediately lowered it when she her eyes fell on them.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed. “I really didn’t want to fight.”

“Sorry.” Petra lowered her sword. “Thought you were a guard.”

Jesse swallowed and smiled at her, the relief evident in her shining eyes. Petra chuckled and put her sword away before reaching to give Jesse a tight hug. Jesse froze for a moment but soon returned it.

“You must be happy to see me,” she murmured into her friend’s shoulder. “Or you wouldn’t be hugging me so tight.”

 “I’ll just deny it later,” The redhead stated.

 “What am I?” Olivia sighed.  “Moldy bread?”

 “It’s good to see you too, Olivia,” Petra added, giving her a hug of her own.  “What are you doing here?”

 “The idea was to bust you guys out of jail, but…” Olivia explained.

 “Well, we’ve got that part covered,” Petra said as she released her.

 Reuben skipped forward for some attention from Petra as well. She grinned and gave the little pig a few pats on his head.

“Not that we don’t appreciate the attempt,” Milo added. He stepped forward to give Jesse his own hug. “Good to see you, Jesse. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I should be telling you that.” After they finished their hug, Jesse turned to the younger blond and stiffened. She looked at him for only a split second before averting her gaze to the floor. “Um…hi, Lukas.”

“Hi Jesse.” His voice was quiet and low.

 She rubbed the back of her neck, refusing to meet his eyes. Lukas stared at her with a blank expression, waiting for her to take the first step.

 Milo watched, ready to intervene if he needed to. He didn’t think that would be necessary, but he was ready just in case. Olivia wrung her hands nervously, while Petra was still on the lookout for any guards.

 Jesse took a deep breath. “Lukas, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you everything, but I just didn’t—”

 Her words froze in her mouth as Lukas stepped forward and took her face in his hands. Jesse glanced up in time to watch as he pressed his lips against hers. She startled but returned the kiss, closing her eyes.

 “Oh, for crying out loud,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes and smirking.

 Petra groaned. “Is this really the time for that?”

“Come on, you two,” Milo declared with a grin. “It’s a reunion of lovers. This is something to be celebrated.”

 Reuben snorted. No one was sure if it was from amusement at the kissing pair, agreement with Milo’s gushing, or joining in with the girls’ annoyance.

 “That was more than I needed to think about.” Olivia muttered as the couple continued to kiss.

 Petra shook her head. “Um, guys? You know we are still in a palace fill with guards that want to recapture us, right?”

This flat statement brought the two out of their own little world, but they didn’t take their eyes off each other.

“I thought you’d be angry,” Jesse whispered.

“Oh, I was angry all right,” Lukas confessed. “But Dad was right about prison giving you lots of time to think.”

 Jesse pulled him closer into a hug, burying her face into his shoulder. “I’m still sorry.”

 “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to make you worry so much.” He separated himself from her, finally smiling. He tilted her chin up so she would look at him again. “No more secrets, okay?”

 Jesse nodded. “No more secrets.”

 “Can we get on with it now?” Petra asked, holding her sword up, ready for anything.

Milo clicked his tongue. “Kids these days have no romantic notions.”

 “They’re right though. We need to get out of here.” Lukas grabbed Jesse’s hand and started to pull her down the hall. “Come on.”

Jesse probably would have let him pull her along if she hadn’t heard Reuben’s telltale squealing. She looked over her shoulder at him. The pig gave her a raised eyebrow and jerked his head in the direction that would lead to the throne room. Jesse dug in her heels, causing everyone to stop in their tracks and look at her.

Lukas glanced at Reuben with a raised eyebrow, finally noticing him for the first time. “Wait, you know a pig?”

She ignored him, knowing exactly what Reuben was telling her. “Petra, you know the way out?”

“I think so.”

“Then you lead everyone else out of here,” she instructed. “I have to get to the throne room.”

“Why? What is it?” Milo asked. His brows furrowed with worry.

 “It’s something I have to take care of.”

 “Jesse, we just agreed on no more secrets,” Lukas reminded her as he put a hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”

“…Aiden’s after the Eversource,” she breathed. “He’s planning to use it to overthrow The Founder…my mother. I can’t let him have it.”

“If Aiden has the only way to get resources in Sky City,” Milo said with a slight stuttter. “He could do whatever he wants to the rest of us.”

“And that’s not a good thing.” Lukas shook his head. “I don’t want to even think about what he could be planning with it.”

 “He actually thinks that’ll work?” Olivia wondered aloud. “Taking over Sky City, I mean? What makes him think the Guard will stand around and let him overthrow The Founder?”

“Remember how Axel mentioned some kind of coup?” Petra recalled. “I bet Aiden’s the one actually doing it. He probably has on the inside no one knows about.”

“It would take a long time for someone to infiltrate the Guard enough to stage a coup,” Jesse concluded. “He might’ve been planning this for a while.”

 “Even if that was true, and let’s assume it is,” Lukas stated. “How would Aiden even get his hands on the Eversource? No one knows where in the palace The Founder keeps it.”

“Jesse does,” Milo realized, his voice becoming wispy. He took his son’s place in front of her. “You must know exactly where it is!”

“I do, and Aiden doesn’t. At least, not right now,” she answered. “Aiden even tried to get me to tell him where to find it.”

“And you obviously refused,” Olivia said.

 “Obviously. There’s no way I’d show him where it is.”

 “But you could show us?” Milo asked. Jesse blinked at him a few times. “We could take the Eversource for ourselves and be free of The Founder’s control! Free resources for everyone!”

“That’s what I was thinking too!” Jesse agreed.

“So, I guess we’re going to go get the Eversource and rebel against The Founder with it?” Lukas said slowly.

“It sounds like that’s the plan,” said Olivia.

“Or at the very least, keep the Eversource away from Aiden,” Jesse declared darkly. “If that means keeping it from my mother too, that’s just an added bonus.”

Lukas’ eyebrows rose on his forehead while Reuben oinked.

 “So, we can get to the Eversource from the throne room?” Olivia inquired.

“Exactly.” Jesse paused and then started. “Wait a minute. ‘We’?”

“Of course, ‘We’,” Petra added. “What? You think we’re going to let you go off by yourself?”

 “Yeah. What if one of the guards finds you?” Lukas postulated. “They’re not exactly happy with you right now.”

 “No, they’re not,” she said, rubbing her upper arm. Jesse’s smile was small but grateful. “But you guys need to escape while you have the chance.”

 “If you think we’re going to just leave you behind, you’re nuts,” her boyfriend professed. His firm tone left no argument.

 “We’re not leaving you alone in this.” Milo puts his hips, his back straight and his chin out. “Even if we weren’t going to take the Eversource for ourselves.”

“We’re your friends, Jesse,” Olivia added. “We’re in this together.”

 Jesse chuckled as she looked down at Reuben, who decided that sitting on her foot was a good idea. “I’m used to doing things alone. Thanks, guys.”

 “That all being said,” Petra finally chipped in. “Can we please not talk about this in the middle of the hall in a palace with guards that want us in jail?”

 Lukas couldn’t help but laugh. “I think Petra doesn’t want us to stick around here.”

 “We should get going,” Milo said. “If we want to get to the Eversource before Aiden does.”

“Right.” Lukas stood next to Jesse. “Lead the way!”

 “All right. Follow me.” She started jogging down the hall, the others shortly after. Reuben ran ahead of them, oinking happily. “Reuben! Not so loud! We’re still sneaking, remember?”

“I ask again, why do you know a pig?” Lukas inquired as they ran.

[kayla1993-world]

While fans adore the different heroic characters of Lord of The Rings and the great evil they fight, the fantasy world around them is just as grand. And part of what makes the world so fantastical are the different creatures, beasts, and fauna that inhabit it.

Now, in particular this list covers the non-humanoid creatures in Middle Earth. After all, there are a lot of human-like beasts that are absolutely terrifying. Just look at the Nazgul.

But here, it's particularly the ones with four legs (or more) that chill every human and hobbit to their very bones.

1.  Badger-folk -- One the most infamous things missing from the Lord of The Rings movies is Tom Bombadil. Tom Bombadil's backstory comes with a wife named Goldberry and some devious Badger-folk. While he was an understandable removal from the story, it did take out some interesting creatures and characters. One example are the Badger-folk. Despite being adorable badgers, these people are much more sentient and have ideals and cultures of their own. They live in the forests and sometimes have run-ins with people like Bombadil.  The Badger-folk tried to ensure Bombadil could not get to his beloved, Goldberry, wanting to keep them apart for their own reasons. Lucky for Tom, they failed.  But when it comes to cute creatures that can be secretly devious? Badger-folk can be pretty spooky.

2.  Mumakil -- Most people just know these giant elephants as the thing that Legolas took down with a couple arrows, like the insane archer he is. They are also known as Oliphants, used by the mysterious Haradrim in battle. They are a desert people that were willing to fight for Sauron in the great wars for Middle Earth.  If elephants were already the cutest, but also terrifying large land mammals, Mumakil are even worse. They have extra tusks, too, and are more than happy to destroy whole battalions of men.  Fans kinda love the Mumakil, though, because they are a very unique creature in a world of demon monsters and high fantasy creatures.

3.  Wargs -- These mounts and war dogs of the orcs are a intimidating group to face on the battlefield. They look like a terrifying hybrid of hyena, bear, and werewolf, ready to tear apart flesh at a moment's notice.  Where the good guys stick to classic horses, orcs take their lives into their own hands by choosing Wargs. A hungry enough Warg with a weak master can easily decide a snack is more important that being obedient. Granted, they seem to want to make a snack out of most anything, the scavengers they are.  Also, one of these spooky, big canines tossed Aragorn off a cliff and that's a feat on its own.

4.  Barrow-wight -- Frodo and friends didn't have to deal with this terrifying monster in the films, but in the books they did. This phantom would go after easy targets, lonely travelers in the night that walked passed their barrows. Once they got someone in their grips, they would stare into their eyes and enchant them, taking away their free will.  Then, the wight would take them underground to their altar, wrap them in gold and grave shrouds, and use a blade to sacrifice them.  The only way to deal with a Barrow-Wight is to avoid it or exorcise it. Sounds like a wildly unpleasant way to lose your life, watching your body accept sacrifice without your permission.

5.  Shelob -- While Wargs are a hungry group of orc-hounds, their bloodlust is nothing compared to Shelob and her fellow giant spiders. These creatures will happily entrap and suck the innards out of anyone that dares cross their path. Shelob may be the big tarantula of Mordor, but any of these giant spiders is a terrifying foe. They almost overran the dwarves when they encountered them; if it wasn't for the elves, the fight might not have gone so well.  Lucky for everyone's favorite reluctant hero, Frodo Baggins, Shelob wasn't able to gut him and make him a midnight snack. Gollum's devious scheme didn't work.

6.  Turtle-fish -- The  Lord of The Rings series doesn't spend too much time on open water, and understandably so. Their ships are slow and any attacks are harder to protect. Another great reason to avoid too much shipfaring are the Turtle-Fish. These giant creatures live in large bodies of water and disguise themselves as small islands. They entice people to come closer with the mystery of their land masses, but then will pounce on them once they're close enough.  Turtle-fish can crush an entire vessel with one flop of their belly or crunch of their mouth. Frodo and company (in the films) were very lucky to keep out of the way of these ship-crushers.

7.  Watcher in the water -- If anyone watches Fellowship of the Ring a lot, they know the Watcher in The Water way too well. While the Fellowship spent too much time arguing and making a racket, the nearby guardian of the dwarven city of Moria. The river running by the entrance doesn't seem too deep, but it actually holds an entire, bloodthirsty aquatic monster.  Looking like a crossover of Cthulu and the Kraken, this beat almost swallowed several hobbits whole, including the one ring itself. A non-discriminate snacker, the Watcher almost destroyed the entire fellowship's agenda in one bite.

8.  Great eagles -- Many fans have so many debates and weird conversations about the infamous Great Eagles. Despite their preference to help out the forces of good in Middle Earth, they still are terrifying beasts. They are the size of dragons and have talons that can rip a man to shreds. It's only by being very careful are they capable of carrying the Hobbits to safety from Mordor.  If the Great Eagles didn't help out the good guys, if they instead fought against them like many other terrifying beasts, the Fellowship would have been in a much more percarious position. After all, between their flying speeds and combat abilities, the Great Eagles are no creatures to underestimate.

9.  Fellbeast -- Where the Fellowship has the Eagles, the Nazgul have the Fellbeasts. A lesser version of dragons, these worm-like, winged creatures give their Nazgul riders a frightening upper hand. They are ferocious, unrelenting, and visually horrific. Anyone who sees one feels like they just said hello to a hellbeast.  On top of these creatures, the Nazgul have better vantage points than ever. It makes their dark powers all the greater. If it wasn't for the Eagles, the armies of men would've had a much worse time trying to fight them off. After all, seeing what they did to Osgiliath, they are one of the most terrifying things in Middle Earth.

10.  Smaug -- Nothing can top the rumbling, blood-curdling roar of one of the final great dragons. Despite spending years holed up in his treasure trove, Smaug threatened everything in his path when the dwarves and Bilbo woke him up. Their clever measures were not enough; they needed the rare black arrow to even have a chance against him.

And quite honestly, the black arrow still feels like it shouldn't be enough. Smaug was thousands of pounds of growling, sneering sharp teeth and selfish greed. Of all the creatures in Middle Earth, he deserves his rightful spot as the most frightening beast. He would intimidate anyone who ever crossed his path.

[jessemcdonnellq86]

REVIEW: 13 Fishing Concept Z Baitcasting Reel

REVIEW: 13 Fishing Concept Z Baitcasting Reel

I first saw the Concept Z in person at a local tackle shop, Tightlines PFT in Killeen, last week. Having a review for the 13 Fishing Inception in the works I picked it up, gave the spool a spin, scoffed, and put it back down. I think the words I used immediately were, “That sucks. How are they going to sell those if someone actually tries it?” It was different to put it nicely. The Concept Z didn’t free spool much at all. It’s how I’ve gotten an initial feel for reels on the rack for the better part of 20 years. The Z did not impress. I was confused, a bit perturbed I had eaten an ounce of marketing hype, and curious at the same time. I talked with the shop owner and ended up taking it home for further testing. I had to be missing something.  There had to be more. This entire review could fall under a file named, “Don’t Judge a Book” but I think this quote from Henry Ford sums it up better.

“Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is probably the reason why so few engage in it.”

The Concept Z was a puzzle I needed to crack. Were people just enamored with casting distance, Tequila Sunrise colored reels, or something I couldn’t see or feel yet? I found my answers for the most part. I’ll briefly talk about the Concept Zero Bearing (CZB) but I don’t want this to turn into a debate over the technology. Matt Baldwin, a Product Development Director for 13 Fishing has already addressed a lot of that. Here is a quote pulled from a Tackle Tour forum where it was being discussed. When confronted about the claims of zero bearings Matt had this to say:

zero BALL bearings guys….its the steel material, the balls, the races, and the shields that are causing so many issues within your reels. Noise, corrosion, and performance loss over time….these are a large majority of the reasons you need service. The CZB solves the issues while still delivering the performance characteristics you desire. It exceeds performance in many areas as well.

wikipedia A bearing is a machine element that constrains relative motion to only the desired motion, and reduces friction between moving parts. … The simplest form of bearing, the plain bearing, consists of a shaft rotating in a hole. Bearing (mechanical) – Wikipedia

Call it a bearing, call it a bushing….no matter. It works, try it…you might be very very surprised. It took years to get this right.

Matt 13 Fishing

About the 13 Fishing Concept Z

The Concept Z is a brightly colored (Tequila Sunrise officially) reel from 13 Fishing that weighs in at 6.4 ounces for the model we tested, a 6.6:1 ratioed, right-handed reel. It boasts saltwater protected components using a process called Ocean Armor 2, has a Beetle Wing side plate, 22 pounds of drag, EVA handle knobs, and of course the CZB technology.  I spooled it with 12 pound Seaguar Invisx fluorocarbon and tied on a 1/4 ounce bullet weight and swivel for cast testing.

The Good

The best news of all is that the spool test doesn’t work on this reel. Normally a free spinning spool means longer casting but it wasn’t the case. Maybe I had a weird experience, got a bad reel, something, but more research turned up a lot of other testers experiencing the exact same thing. In fact, Zander from Tackle Tour said something pretty profound about the whole free spool vs CZB performance conundrum. He states, “13 Fishing has the potential with this reel to lay waste to an ideology … that you can gauge how well a reel will cast by flicking the spool with your finger.”

I had a very similar experience. From a bad shop experience to an impressive casting distance it just didn’t line up.  More and more research the technology started to make more sense. I don’t have an engineer’s grasp of it but I do know it casts a long way. That was as advertised.

The Bulldog Drag with 22 pounds of “nope you’re not spooling me” force is no joke. You might ask why the Hades someone would need 22lbs on the drag. It’s important to note the Concept Z was originally designed for use on the Texas inshore fishing scene. Ever hooked into a 30 inch redfish on bass gear? That’s why you might want (or need) 22#. I used my patented oak tree fish drag test with the 1/4 ounce weight and swivel. The line snapped, no drag slippage, beast. I should also say, I don’t ever fish with my drag all the way down but if you needed to, you should beef up your tensile strength for the Concept Z.

The Beetle Wing is a much-needed addition to this reel. I wish the Inception had it. One other upgrade the Z has that some of the lesser models lack is the Dead Stop Anti-Reverse. The reel only rolls forward. It has no backward play at all, not even at an eighth of an inch turn. This helps to make sure the retrieve isn’t jerky, maintains pressure constantly on fish you fight, and keeps fatigue down on your wrist with a more fluid motion.

Room for Improvement

I thought for at least 12 hours that I had a bad reel. The Concept Z I had cast a mile but it seemed really loud on the cast. The retrieve was smooth and quiet but on the cast I heard a fairly loud whirring. I sent a video of it to a couple of people. They hadn’t noticed it in their own reels so I was an outlier. Then I started doing some YouTube research. I looked up videos that didn’t have a lot of music in the background to see if I heard the same noise. I did! The reels seem louder than my traditional ball bearing reels.

Here is my example:

http://ift.tt/2EjBjHk

You can hear it whirring and it was concerning at first. When I looked up these three videos from folks you know, you can also hear it. It may not be at the same volume but it is definitely there. I have the videos queued up at the casts.

Fluke Master Dave LeFebre KTBTV

Most of my reels, including my 13 Fishing Inception, don’t make that noise. I am guessing that is the CZB doing its thing but I don’t know. I just know if I have to listen to that 561 times a day, I’m not going to fish the reel for very long. Does it get better as the reel gets older? If it is indeed the CZB, my understanding is the special polymer will self-lubricate over time and performance will not worsen. Maybe the CZB needs a break in period. Maybe Matt Baldwin can shed some light on it for me.

The only other thing (once you get over the spool test in the shop) is actually cosmetic. I’m not a fan of the orange known as Tequila Sunrise. First, I know Tequila Sunrise to be a purple-hued worm from Berkley Power Bait circa 1992. Secondly, I can’t pull off the orange. It’s not a good look for me. Neither are the Texas Edition seafoam green 13 reels. I like the silver, black, and even white reels. I know they’ll have plenty of fans, I’m just not one of them.

Final Thoughts

I’m still on the fence on the Concept Z. If it weren’t for the noise on the cast, I’d be all about it but it bugs me. A lot. I’ve gotten over the spool test and can definitely say if you want a reel that can throw for distance, this is a good bet and it won’t break the bank. Heck, the Concept Z isn’t even the most expensive reel in the 13 Fishing lineup. If someone from 13 Fishing has some answers about the noise, I’m all ears. Email me at paynefish@gmail.com

REVIEW UPDATE:

Per Gene Jensen (FlukeMaster linked above): The noise has happened to me a few times with different concept reels and other brands as well. What it is is the small brake pad inside the cast control knob being broke in. You can oil it to shut it up but it’s best to let it run its course. It doesn’t affect the cast at all.

I did hear back from Matt Baldwin via email. While I don’t 100% agree with everything he mentions (noisy casts from my current reels) I am willing to post what Matt suggests could be a potential fixes and some other things to consider. I appreciate his feedback and taking the time to add some more to the discussion. One additional comment, if the cast control cap’s brake pad is a known issue as Gene and Matt elude, I’d make a recommendation to refine that portion of the 13 reels or offer an aftermarket pad.

The CZBs are completely different, not something you are used to using, and not something you have ever experienced.  You will hear a little noise on the cast, this is normal.  Please compare this noise to your existing ball bearing reels.  I think you might be surprised on how loud your normal reels are when casted.   The major difference is with the retrieve, its dead silent on the Concept Z.  The only thing you will hear is the line coming through the guides.  Gone is the racket of the ball bearings.  The noise is more acute in your mind, because otherwise the reel is so silent.

I watched the attached video with the sound all the way up…and I don’t hear much.  I’m not disputing your hearing a “whirring noise”, just disputing how loud it is.  Its certainly possible that yours makes a “whirring noise” louder than normal, but I can’t tell that from the video and would be happy to take a look to confirm.  I want to be sure your reel performs like it should.  Additionally you adjust a Z a little different than most because of the consistency of the spin, you don’t need as much brake weight or cast-control cap.  So loosen up the cap and set your brakes to 1-2 and let her rip!!!

I think your missing the entire point of the Concept Z, as I don’t see much reference to it in the review.  The Concept Z will without a doubt give you long ultra consistent casting.  Test it against whatever you fish on 10 casts, if you can replicate the casting effort you will see the casts all fall in the exact same place.  This won’t happen with your ball bearing reels because you can’t consistently get all the balls to start up movement consistently.(a little more lubricant on one ball, or a piece of debris as small as sand can keep that from being consistent)

http://ift.tt/2Fd9AJO

[jamespdsolmcc09]

REVIEW: 13 Fishing Concept Z Baitcasting Reel

REVIEW: 13 Fishing Concept Z Baitcasting Reel

I first saw the Concept Z in person at a local tackle shop, Tightlines PFT in Killeen, last week. Having a review for the 13 Fishing Inception in the works I picked it up, gave the spool a spin, scoffed, and put it back down. I think the words I used immediately were, “That sucks. How are they going to sell those if someone actually tries it?” It was different to put it nicely. The Concept Z didn’t free spool much at all. It’s how I’ve gotten an initial feel for reels on the rack for the better part of 20 years. The Z did not impress. I was confused, a bit perturbed I had eaten an ounce of marketing hype, and curious at the same time. I talked with the shop owner and ended up taking it home for further testing. I had to be missing something.  There had to be more. This entire review could fall under a file named, “Don’t Judge a Book” but I think this quote from Henry Ford sums it up better.

“Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is probably the reason why so few engage in it.”

The Concept Z was a puzzle I needed to crack. Were people just enamored with casting distance, Tequila Sunrise colored reels, or something I couldn’t see or feel yet? I found my answers for the most part. I’ll briefly talk about the Concept Zero Bearing (CZB) but I don’t want this to turn into a debate over the technology. Matt Baldwin, a Product Development Director for 13 Fishing has already addressed a lot of that. Here is a quote pulled from a Tackle Tour forum where it was being discussed. When confronted about the claims of zero bearings Matt had this to say:

zero BALL bearings guys….its the steel material, the balls, the races, and the shields that are causing so many issues within your reels. Noise, corrosion, and performance loss over time….these are a large majority of the reasons you need service. The CZB solves the issues while still delivering the performance characteristics you desire. It exceeds performance in many areas as well.

wikipedia A bearing is a machine element that constrains relative motion to only the desired motion, and reduces friction between moving parts. … The simplest form of bearing, the plain bearing, consists of a shaft rotating in a hole. Bearing (mechanical) – Wikipedia

Call it a bearing, call it a bushing….no matter. It works, try it…you might be very very surprised. It took years to get this right.

Matt 13 Fishing

About the 13 Fishing Concept Z

The Concept Z is a brightly colored (Tequila Sunrise officially) reel from 13 Fishing that weighs in at 6.4 ounces for the model we tested, a 6.6:1 ratioed, right-handed reel. It boasts saltwater protected components using a process called Ocean Armor 2, has a Beetle Wing side plate, 22 pounds of drag, EVA handle knobs, and of course the CZB technology.  I spooled it with 12 pound Seaguar Invisx fluorocarbon and tied on a 1/4 ounce bullet weight and swivel for cast testing.

The Good

The best news of all is that the spool test doesn’t work on this reel. Normally a free spinning spool means longer casting but it wasn’t the case. Maybe I had a weird experience, got a bad reel, something, but more research turned up a lot of other testers experiencing the exact same thing. In fact, Zander from Tackle Tour said something pretty profound about the whole free spool vs CZB performance conundrum. He states, “13 Fishing has the potential with this reel to lay waste to an ideology … that you can gauge how well a reel will cast by flicking the spool with your finger.”

I had a very similar experience. From a bad shop experience to an impressive casting distance it just didn’t line up.  More and more research the technology started to make more sense. I don’t have an engineer’s grasp of it but I do know it casts a long way. That was as advertised.

The Bulldog Drag with 22 pounds of “nope you’re not spooling me” force is no joke. You might ask why the Hades someone would need 22lbs on the drag. It’s important to note the Concept Z was originally designed for use on the Texas inshore fishing scene. Ever hooked into a 30 inch redfish on bass gear? That’s why you might want (or need) 22#. I used my patented oak tree fish drag test with the 1/4 ounce weight and swivel. The line snapped, no drag slippage, beast. I should also say, I don’t ever fish with my drag all the way down but if you needed to, you should beef up your tensile strength for the Concept Z.

The Beetle Wing is a much-needed addition to this reel. I wish the Inception had it. One other upgrade the Z has that some of the lesser models lack is the Dead Stop Anti-Reverse. The reel only rolls forward. It has no backward play at all, not even at an eighth of an inch turn. This helps to make sure the retrieve isn’t jerky, maintains pressure constantly on fish you fight, and keeps fatigue down on your wrist with a more fluid motion.

Room for Improvement

I thought for at least 12 hours that I had a bad reel. The Concept Z I had cast a mile but it seemed really loud on the cast. The retrieve was smooth and quiet but on the cast I heard a fairly loud whirring. I sent a video of it to a couple of people. They hadn’t noticed it in their own reels so I was an outlier. Then I started doing some YouTube research. I looked up videos that didn’t have a lot of music in the background to see if I heard the same noise. I did! The reels seem louder than my traditional ball bearing reels.

Here is my example:

http://ift.tt/2EjBjHk

You can hear it whirring and it was concerning at first. When I looked up these three videos from folks you know, you can also hear it. It may not be at the same volume but it is definitely there. I have the videos queued up at the casts.

Fluke Master Dave LeFebre KTBTV

Most of my reels, including my 13 Fishing Inception, don’t make that noise. I am guessing that is the CZB doing its thing but I don’t know. I just know if I have to listen to that 561 times a day, I’m not going to fish the reel for very long. Does it get better as the reel gets older? If it is indeed the CZB, my understanding is the special polymer will self-lubricate over time and performance will not worsen. Maybe the CZB needs a break in period. Maybe Matt Baldwin can shed some light on it for me.

The only other thing (once you get over the spool test in the shop) is actually cosmetic. I’m not a fan of the orange known as Tequila Sunrise. First, I know Tequila Sunrise to be a purple-hued worm from Berkley Power Bait circa 1992. Secondly, I can’t pull off the orange. It’s not a good look for me. Neither are the Texas Edition seafoam green 13 reels. I like the silver, black, and even white reels. I know they’ll have plenty of fans, I’m just not one of them.

Final Thoughts

I’m still on the fence on the Concept Z. If it weren’t for the noise on the cast, I’d be all about it but it bugs me. A lot. I’ve gotten over the spool test and can definitely say if you want a reel that can throw for distance, this is a good bet and it won’t break the bank. Heck, the Concept Z isn’t even the most expensive reel in the 13 Fishing lineup. If someone from 13 Fishing has some answers about the noise, I’m all ears. Email me at paynefish@gmail.com

REVIEW UPDATE:

Per Gene Jensen (FlukeMaster linked above): The noise has happened to me a few times with different concept reels and other brands as well. What it is is the small brake pad inside the cast control knob being broke in. You can oil it to shut it up but it’s best to let it run its course. It doesn’t affect the cast at all.

I did hear back from Matt Baldwin via email. While I don’t 100% agree with everything he mentions (noisy casts from my current reels) I am willing to post what Matt suggests could be a potential fixes and some other things to consider. I appreciate his feedback and taking the time to add some more to the discussion. One additional comment, if the cast control cap’s brake pad is a known issue as Gene and Matt elude, I’d make a recommendation to refine that portion of the 13 reels or offer an aftermarket pad.

The CZBs are completely different, not something you are used to using, and not something you have ever experienced.  You will hear a little noise on the cast, this is normal.  Please compare this noise to your existing ball bearing reels.  I think you might be surprised on how loud your normal reels are when casted.   The major difference is with the retrieve, its dead silent on the Concept Z.  The only thing you will hear is the line coming through the guides.  Gone is the racket of the ball bearings.  The noise is more acute in your mind, because otherwise the reel is so silent.

I watched the attached video with the sound all the way up…and I don’t hear much.  I’m not disputing your hearing a “whirring noise”, just disputing how loud it is.  Its certainly possible that yours makes a “whirring noise” louder than normal, but I can’t tell that from the video and would be happy to take a look to confirm.  I want to be sure your reel performs like it should.  Additionally you adjust a Z a little different than most because of the consistency of the spin, you don’t need as much brake weight or cast-control cap.  So loosen up the cap and set your brakes to 1-2 and let her rip!!!

I think your missing the entire point of the Concept Z, as I don’t see much reference to it in the review.  The Concept Z will without a doubt give you long ultra consistent casting.  Test it against whatever you fish on 10 casts, if you can replicate the casting effort you will see the casts all fall in the exact same place.  This won’t happen with your ball bearing reels because you can’t consistently get all the balls to start up movement consistently.(a little more lubricant on one ball, or a piece of debris as small as sand can keep that from being consistent)

http://ift.tt/2Fd9AJO

[mariefoster2k19zs1]

REVIEW: 13 Fishing Concept Z Baitcasting Reel

REVIEW: 13 Fishing Concept Z Baitcasting Reel

I first saw the Concept Z in person at a local tackle shop, Tightlines PFT in Killeen, last week. Having a review for the 13 Fishing Inception in the works I picked it up, gave the spool a spin, scoffed, and put it back down. I think the words I used immediately were, “That sucks. How are they going to sell those if someone actually tries it?” It was different to put it nicely. The Concept Z didn’t free spool much at all. It’s how I’ve gotten an initial feel for reels on the rack for the better part of 20 years. The Z did not impress. I was confused, a bit perturbed I had eaten an ounce of marketing hype, and curious at the same time. I talked with the shop owner and ended up taking it home for further testing. I had to be missing something.  There had to be more. This entire review could fall under a file named, “Don’t Judge a Book” but I think this quote from Henry Ford sums it up better.

“Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is probably the reason why so few engage in it.”

The Concept Z was a puzzle I needed to crack. Were people just enamored with casting distance, Tequila Sunrise colored reels, or something I couldn’t see or feel yet? I found my answers for the most part. I’ll briefly talk about the Concept Zero Bearing (CZB) but I don’t want this to turn into a debate over the technology. Matt Baldwin, a Product Development Director for 13 Fishing has already addressed a lot of that. Here is a quote pulled from a Tackle Tour forum where it was being discussed. When confronted about the claims of zero bearings Matt had this to say:

zero BALL bearings guys….its the steel material, the balls, the races, and the shields that are causing so many issues within your reels. Noise, corrosion, and performance loss over time….these are a large majority of the reasons you need service. The CZB solves the issues while still delivering the performance characteristics you desire. It exceeds performance in many areas as well.

wikipedia A bearing is a machine element that constrains relative motion to only the desired motion, and reduces friction between moving parts. … The simplest form of bearing, the plain bearing, consists of a shaft rotating in a hole. Bearing (mechanical) – Wikipedia

Call it a bearing, call it a bushing….no matter. It works, try it…you might be very very surprised. It took years to get this right.

Matt 13 Fishing

About the 13 Fishing Concept Z

The Concept Z is a brightly colored (Tequila Sunrise officially) reel from 13 Fishing that weighs in at 6.4 ounces for the model we tested, a 6.6:1 ratioed, right-handed reel. It boasts saltwater protected components using a process called Ocean Armor 2, has a Beetle Wing side plate, 22 pounds of drag, EVA handle knobs, and of course the CZB technology.  I spooled it with 12 pound Seaguar Invisx fluorocarbon and tied on a 1/4 ounce bullet weight and swivel for cast testing.

The Good

The best news of all is that the spool test doesn’t work on this reel. Normally a free spinning spool means longer casting but it wasn’t the case. Maybe I had a weird experience, got a bad reel, something, but more research turned up a lot of other testers experiencing the exact same thing. In fact, Zander from Tackle Tour said something pretty profound about the whole free spool vs CZB performance conundrum. He states, “13 Fishing has the potential with this reel to lay waste to an ideology … that you can gauge how well a reel will cast by flicking the spool with your finger.”

I had a very similar experience. From a bad shop experience to an impressive casting distance it just didn’t line up.  More and more research the technology started to make more sense. I don’t have an engineer’s grasp of it but I do know it casts a long way. That was as advertised.

The Bulldog Drag with 22 pounds of “nope you’re not spooling me” force is no joke. You might ask why the Hades someone would need 22lbs on the drag. It’s important to note the Concept Z was originally designed for use on the Texas inshore fishing scene. Ever hooked into a 30 inch redfish on bass gear? That’s why you might want (or need) 22#. I used my patented oak tree fish drag test with the 1/4 ounce weight and swivel. The line snapped, no drag slippage, beast. I should also say, I don’t ever fish with my drag all the way down but if you needed to, you should beef up your tensile strength for the Concept Z.

The Beetle Wing is a much-needed addition to this reel. I wish the Inception had it. One other upgrade the Z has that some of the lesser models lack is the Dead Stop Anti-Reverse. The reel only rolls forward. It has no backward play at all, not even at an eighth of an inch turn. This helps to make sure the retrieve isn’t jerky, maintains pressure constantly on fish you fight, and keeps fatigue down on your wrist with a more fluid motion.

Room for Improvement

I thought for at least 12 hours that I had a bad reel. The Concept Z I had cast a mile but it seemed really loud on the cast. The retrieve was smooth and quiet but on the cast I heard a fairly loud whirring. I sent a video of it to a couple of people. They hadn’t noticed it in their own reels so I was an outlier. Then I started doing some YouTube research. I looked up videos that didn’t have a lot of music in the background to see if I heard the same noise. I did! The reels seem louder than my traditional ball bearing reels.

Here is my example:

http://ift.tt/2EjBjHk

You can hear it whirring and it was concerning at first. When I looked up these three videos from folks you know, you can also hear it. It may not be at the same volume but it is definitely there. I have the videos queued up at the casts.

Fluke Master Dave LeFebre KTBTV

Most of my reels, including my 13 Fishing Inception, don’t make that noise. I am guessing that is the CZB doing its thing but I don’t know. I just know if I have to listen to that 561 times a day, I’m not going to fish the reel for very long. Does it get better as the reel gets older? If it is indeed the CZB, my understanding is the special polymer will self-lubricate over time and performance will not worsen. Maybe the CZB needs a break in period. Maybe Matt Baldwin can shed some light on it for me.

The only other thing (once you get over the spool test in the shop) is actually cosmetic. I’m not a fan of the orange known as Tequila Sunrise. First, I know Tequila Sunrise to be a purple-hued worm from Berkley Power Bait circa 1992. Secondly, I can’t pull off the orange. It’s not a good look for me. Neither are the Texas Edition seafoam green 13 reels. I like the silver, black, and even white reels. I know they’ll have plenty of fans, I’m just not one of them.

Final Thoughts

I’m still on the fence on the Concept Z. If it weren’t for the noise on the cast, I’d be all about it but it bugs me. A lot. I’ve gotten over the spool test and can definitely say if you want a reel that can throw for distance, this is a good bet and it won’t break the bank. Heck, the Concept Z isn’t even the most expensive reel in the 13 Fishing lineup. If someone from 13 Fishing has some answers about the noise, I’m all ears. Email me at paynefish@gmail.com

REVIEW UPDATE:

Per Gene Jensen (FlukeMaster linked above): The noise has happened to me a few times with different concept reels and other brands as well. What it is is the small brake pad inside the cast control knob being broke in. You can oil it to shut it up but it’s best to let it run its course. It doesn’t affect the cast at all.

I did hear back from Matt Baldwin via email. While I don’t 100% agree with everything he mentions (noisy casts from my current reels) I am willing to post what Matt suggests could be a potential fixes and some other things to consider. I appreciate his feedback and taking the time to add some more to the discussion. One additional comment, if the cast control cap’s brake pad is a known issue as Gene and Matt elude, I’d make a recommendation to refine that portion of the 13 reels or offer an aftermarket pad.

The CZBs are completely different, not something you are used to using, and not something you have ever experienced.  You will hear a little noise on the cast, this is normal.  Please compare this noise to your existing ball bearing reels.  I think you might be surprised on how loud your normal reels are when casted.   The major difference is with the retrieve, its dead silent on the Concept Z.  The only thing you will hear is the line coming through the guides.  Gone is the racket of the ball bearings.  The noise is more acute in your mind, because otherwise the reel is so silent.

I watched the attached video with the sound all the way up…and I don’t hear much.  I’m not disputing your hearing a “whirring noise”, just disputing how loud it is.  Its certainly possible that yours makes a “whirring noise” louder than normal, but I can’t tell that from the video and would be happy to take a look to confirm.  I want to be sure your reel performs like it should.  Additionally you adjust a Z a little different than most because of the consistency of the spin, you don’t need as much brake weight or cast-control cap.  So loosen up the cap and set your brakes to 1-2 and let her rip!!!

I think your missing the entire point of the Concept Z, as I don’t see much reference to it in the review.  The Concept Z will without a doubt give you long ultra consistent casting.  Test it against whatever you fish on 10 casts, if you can replicate the casting effort you will see the casts all fall in the exact same place.  This won’t happen with your ball bearing reels because you can’t consistently get all the balls to start up movement consistently.(a little more lubricant on one ball, or a piece of debris as small as sand can keep that from being consistent)

http://ift.tt/2Fd9AJO