#projectile launch system

[pozer-jacket]

The hardest decision in Cyberpunk 2077 since update 2.0 is between Mantis Blades and Gorilla Arms. Before that, Monowire was the best for its range but now it feels like just a spicy shoelace.

[todays-xkcd]

'At the stroke of midnight, your brother will be hurtling sideways at an altitude of 150 meters' is a regular physics prediction about your nonmagical trebuchet, whereas 'you are cursed to build a brother-launching trebuchet' falls out of the Lagrangian.

Physics vs. Magic [Explained]

Transcript

[Miss Lenhart is standing in front of a whiteboard and pointing to it with a stick. The whiteboard contains two lines of scribbles at the top, two drawings below them featuring a curve on the left and a circle on the right, and below them four additional lines of scribbles with smallest line of scribbles in the lower left corner.] Miss Lenhart: Physics and magic are different in a very deep way.

[Close-up of Miss Lenhart pointing the stick to the left to a depiction of a projectile's motion due to gravity. The path of movement is shown as a dashed line that first heads directly to the right but starts increasingly curving downward. There are five small circles at different points within the path. There are labels "V0" for an arrow pointing right on the left side of the leftmost circle, "F" for an arrow pointing downward below the leftmost circle, and "T0" to "T4" for the five individual circles from left to right.] Miss Lenhart: Physics works by describing the forces that act on a system. Miss Lenhart: To predict outcomes, we progressively apply those forces over time.

[Miss Lenhart is holding the stick down and standing in front of Jill and Hairy sitting at their desks. Jill has her hands on her desk while Hairy has his hands on his lap.] Miss Lenhart: Magic specifies the outcome, but not the intermediate events. Miss Lenhart: "Ere the clock strikes twelve, you are cursed to slay your brother" is magic, not science.

[Same setting as in the third panel, except Miss Lenhart is holding the stick slightly lower and Jill has her other hand on her lap.] Miss Lenhart: ... And that's how we know thermodynamics is magic. Miss Lenhart: Conservation laws are, too. Hairy: What about Lagrangians? Miss Lenhart: Deep magic. Speak not of them here.

[clockworkxsoul]

Never posted this here, so why not now!

Cyberpunk 2077 Au! Vi and Jinx.

Vi has Gorilla Arms and Jinx has a projectile Launch System (for the people who don’t play 2077, this means vi can punch real hard and Jinx can Launch a meißle out of her Arms)

[marinersapartmentc0mplex]

Never Let Me Go

Damian Wayne x Journalist!OFC

Chapter Fifteen: hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but I have it

Ao3 Link & Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

TW(s): firearms/guns

"Snowball to the face! Suck it, Red Hood!"

The shout echoed through the courtyard like a war cry, followed immediately by a loud thwack and Jason Todd's stunned growl. Stephanie Brown darted behind a stone bench for cover, laughing breathlessly as Jason wiped packed snow from his helmet’s visor.

“You’re cheating, Brown,” Red Hood snarled, recovering from the abrupt attack.

“Am not!” she calls back, scaling a towering tree, settling into a perch on a skeletal branch as she defended herself from Jason’s accusations. “I’m winning creatively.”

“Using a trash can lid as a shield of defence is cowardice, not creativity!”

“Debatable,” she mutters, ducking another projectile with all the exaggerated grace of someone clearly enjoying himself. “Oracle, tell him I’m not cheating,” Steph called, shielding herself behind the upturned trash can lid like a modern-day snow-covered Spartan.

There was a beat of static, then Barbara’s dry voice crackled into their comms. “Technically, no, she’s not cheating. But using a trash can lid as a shield is a terrible misuse of public infrastructure.”

Jason let out a bark of laughter as he ducked behind the fountain. “Ha! Even Oracle agrees.”

“I didn’t say you were right, Red Hood. Just that Gotham Parks and Rec would probably like their property back in one piece.”

Barbara continued, “And for the record, Stephanie, Bruce is not going to be thrilled knowing his foundation’s recent donation to Robinson Park ended up in your personal snowball defense system.”

“Okay, wow, snitches,” Steph muttered, adjusting her hold on the lid. “For the record, this thing is incredible. Ten out of ten deflection. He should be proud.”

Overhead, the soft whine of a grapple line zipped across the winter air. Tim dropped down from the eaves in full Red Robin gear, rolled into a crouch, and neatly scooped up a snowball mid-landing.

“What’d I miss?” he asked.

“Stephanie’s committing crimes against humanity,” Jason said flatly.

“Ah,” Tim nodded. “So, any normal Sunday.”

The comms crackled again, Barbara’s stern voice filling their ears, “Red Hood, need I remind you that civilian names are not to be used on the field—even if you are only throwing snowballs.”

Stephanie and Tim used Jason’s momentary distraction—eyes flicking skyward as Oracle spoke—to exchange a quick, wordless glance. It was barely a second, but it said everything: Now? Now.

Jason turned just in time to catch a snowball to the chest, courtesy of Tim.

“What the—” he started, but didn’t get to finish.

Stephanie launched herself down from her sniper perch, pelting him with three rapid-fire hits, laughing loudly.

Jason stumbled back under the assault, raising one arm in a futile attempt to shield himself as snow burst against his armor. “You traitors! ” he roared, voice echoing off the courtyard’s stone archways. “I was listening to Oracle!”

Tim snorted and shrugged innocently, “you were distracted. That’s on you.”

Stephanie hit the ground running—literally—landing with a simple thud and springing back into motion. “Adapt or perish, Red Hood!”

A snowball narrowly missed her, exploding against a tree behind her. Jason grunted, reaching for another handful of snow, but she was already behind cover again, whooping.

Across the courtyard, at a quieter corner near the koi pond, the chaos was barely registered.

Duke knelt beside the beginnings of a crooked snowman, carefully smoothing down the third ball of snow for its lumpy midsection. “Okay, I know it’s funny-looking, but hear me out—we give it a batarang on its chest. Instant upgrade.”

Cass stood beside him, wordlessly holding a pinecone in each palm. “These could be eyes,” she offered with a small nod.

At first, Damian had scoffed at the initial suggestion that they build a snowman.

“Tt. An endeavor fit for children,” he’d muttered, brushing snow off his gloves with a disdainful flick. “Which, technically, none of us are.”

But after an hour of expertly dismantling Red Hood, Spoiler, and Red Robin in a snowball war—one that ended with Cass flipping Tim into a snowbank and Duke launching a sneak attack that left Jason temporarily blind with snow to the face—he’d relented. They’d declared themselves victorious, brushed the snow from their suits, and turned their attention to the more peaceful art of snow sculpting. 

Now, despite all his earlier grumbling, Damian stood beside the snowman Duke had insisted must be exactly his height—“for scale,” Duke had claimed, though the teasing glint in his eye said otherwise. Damian was currently fastening two stick arms to the snowman’s sides using carefully selected tree branches, each the result of a meticulous fifteen-minute search. He’d refused— on principle —to break one off a living tree.

“I was raised with discipline,” he’d said flatly when Duke offered to just snap a twig from a nearby oak. “You don’t disrespect your environment. Even the League had standards.”

Now, with the arms finally secured and Harold the Snowman (a name that Duke and Cass had decided upon while Damian was hunting for broken branches) standing proud and vaguely brooding, the trio stepped back to assess him.

“We need a nose,” Cass said, tilting her head as she studied the unfinished face. “Carrot?”

“No carrots round here,” Duke said dejectedly. That was unless one of them was in the mood to track down a store still open at this hour—the chances were slim to none.

“Carrots are lazy,” Damian muttered. “We can do better.”

Cass glanced around. “Pinecone?”

“That’s his eye,” Duke said, gesturing at Harold’s current pinecone vision.

“Acorn?” she offered again.

“Too small,” Damian said. “He’d look like he had a zit.”

“What about a twig with a curve?” Cass said suddenly, spotting one on the ground and holding it up like a trophy. “Crooked nose. Personality.”

Damian squinted at it, then gave a curt nod. “Better.”

Duke took it, stuck it into Harold’s face, and stepped back. “There. Now he looks like he’s seen things.”

Damian crossed his arms, surveying their crooked-limbed, pinecone-eyed, broken-nosed snowman with a faint satisfaction. “He’s perfect.”

“Perfectly weird,” Duke said.

“Perfectly armed,” Damian corrected, gesturing to the batarang on Harold’s chest.

Their peace, however, was interrupted by another screech:

“RED ROBIN I SWEAR TO EVERY GOD IN EXISTENCE—”

Stephanie was cut off by a loud bang that sounded suspiciously close to someone body-slamming a tree. 

“...should we help?” Duke asked.

“No,” Damian said. “Let them burn.”

“Or freeze,” Cass added.

Damian smirked. “Either works.”

While the Bat-kids enjoyed their rare fun in the snow-blanketed grounds of Robinson park—Stephanie and Tim battling each other after Jason made them turn on each other, Duke watching half-amused, half-concerned, and Damian begrudgingly admiring the handy work on Harold the snowman—other parts of Gotham refused to sleep.

Near the red-light district, Selina Kyle moved like a shadow across rooftops slick with frost. Her heels made no sound on the ledges as she patrolled the familiar streets drenched in neon lights. Girls in fur-trimmed coats leaned against graffiti-tagged brick, laughing with each other between clients and cigarettes.

Selina crouched at the edge of a rooftop opposite the Alibi nightclub, letting her legs dangle . She was set to marry rich in the spring—a white veil, a fancy venue, and vows with Bruce Wayne himself. After years of playing cat and mouse, of doubting he would ever let his walls down enough to allow their relationship to progress, they finally found their ways to each other. But no amount of silk, unstolen diamonds, or Wayne commitments would ever change the oath she made long ago: no girl on these streets would be left unguarded. Not on her watch. Not ever.

Several miles uptown, the Batman made his solitary rounds on the route he usually took with Robin. Snow sifted lazily down from above, settling across the limestone gargoyles and wrought-iron ledges of Gotham’s skyline like an eerie veil. High above the city, on the spire of a deconsecrated church turned luxury penthouse, Batman crouched in shadow, surveying the streets below.

“Oracle,” he murmured into the comms, voice a low gravel rumble. “Status.”

“Some disruption in front of Gotham Plaza Hotel,” she said. “My bet’s on the Falcones and Cobblepot’s guys throwing snowballs made of C4.”

Batman didn’t miss a beat. “Pull Robin.”

There was a pause. Then, a deliberate click of something being disabled.

“I already disconnected him,” Oracle said, and Bruce could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Oracle.”

“No. I don’t know what went down between you two, and I’m not asking. But the kid deserves one night . One night where he’s not patching bullet wounds, wrestling cartel thugs, or swinging a Katana around. Let him build a snowman. Let him throw a snowball. Let him be sixteen years old . ”

Batman’s silence thundered through the channel, but Barbara had learnt overtime that she just had to match his stubbornness. And finally, he exhaled, low and almost imperceptible. “Where’s Nightwing?”

“Blüdhaven. But en route. ETA twenty-three minutes if he ignores half the traffic laws—and you know he will. I’ll send Red Hood instead.”

Batman gave a small hum of approval and was already on the move, slinking through the night, manipulating the shadows he grew so familiar with over the years.

He thought of another winter, years ago. A colder, grittier Gotham. The Long Halloween. Back when Harvey Dent still wore suits with pressed collars instead of burn scars and madness. Back when Carmine Falcone’s empire held the city in a clenched fist and Sal Maroni’s crews fought relentlessly to pry open every finger. It had been a bloodbath masquerading as strategy. Dead men stuffed in alleyways, money laundered through Italian shoe imports, children orphaned by vendettas they never understood.

He remembered the rooftop: rain-soaked shingles, the bitter smell of Gordon’s pipe, and Harvey’s laugh—loud and crooked and real. The three of them had stood there, brothers in arms against an entire city of rot. And he'd almost told them. Almost. His name had burned at the back of his throat like acid.

But the acid had come for Harvey first.

The courtroom. The crack of the vial. The scream. Half a face melted into madness.

And Two-Face was born. Or at least the physical manifestation of what was lying beneath.

The scene outside the Gotham Plaza looked less like a turf war and more like an interrupted massacre. The faint scent of gunpowder hung over the steaming asphalt, mingling with the acrid stink of melted snow and spilled motor oil. Broken glass glinted under the revolving red-and-blue flash of GCPD cruisers. A car horn blared endlessly from a bullet-ridden sedan rammed into the valet podium, while a burning SUV coughed smoke into the sky like a dying dragon.

Red Hood crouched behind a concrete planter, a half-crushed pack of Penguin’s goons writhing on the pavement nearby. He touched a finger to the side of his helmet, cracking his neck as he surveyed the chaos.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, Batman,” Jason said into the comms, voice filtered through the rasp of his tactical mic. “I’m always happy to put mob guys in the hospital—but since when are Penguin’s and Falcone’s people killing each other in public?”

“Since Falcone decided he wants his power back,” Bruce replied. “He wants to be The Roman again.”

Jason snorted. “Isn’t he in Blackgate?”

“He doesn’t need to be outside the walls to pull strings,” Batman said. “And his son—Alberto—he’s been quiet. Too quiet.”

Jason ducked as a burst of gunfire ripped from the upper terrace of the hotel, splintering the marble column he’d been using as cover. Shards of stone and spent shell casings danced around his boots. He rolled behind a flipped valet stand, drew his sidearm, and popped off three precise rounds toward the source.

“Red Hood” Batman shouted in agitation. “Watch your nine, and put the firearm away.”

A figure lunged out of the shadows—a Falcone foot soldier, maybe seventeen, face pale and streaked with grime, a pistol shaking in his grip. Jason disarmed him with a savage twist of the arm and sent him sprawling with a knee to the ribs.

“Kid’s barely got stubble,” Jason muttered. “Jesus. You sending me into a daycare, B?”

Before Bruce could reply, Oracle’s voice broke into the comms..

“SWAT’s on approach. GCPD’s trying to lock it down before the body count climbs any higher.”

Batman’s voice cut through. “Red Hood—get the wounded off the street.”

Jason was already moving.

“I’ve got three Falcone guys bleeding out near the fountain,” he said. “One of Penguin’s men’s unconscious. Might’ve clipped a civilian—concierge took one to the leg.”

“Secure them,” Oracle ordered. “Paramedics are staging two blocks south. I’ll patch you a route through the alley behind the maintenance dock.”

“Copy that.”

Jason slung one of the injured men over his shoulder and dragged another by the collar, his boots crunching through broken snow and blood-soaked slush. Sirens howled louder, bouncing off the hotel’s glass façade in waves. Across the plaza, spotlights swept through the dark as the SWAT van skidded to a halt, its rear doors bursting open.

“Hands where we can see them!” an officer barked over a bullhorn. “Drop your weapons!”

Jason didn’t slow. He kicked the hotel’s side door open with his heel and dumped his first wounded target inside the marble lobby.

“I’m in a red helmet,” he snapped. “Do I look like one of the bad guys?”

Barbara’s voice crackled: “Debatable.”

“Don’t antagonize the people with assault rifles,” Oracle continued on a more serious note.

A flashbang exploded somewhere on the western end of the plaza, white light tearing through the night as Batman dropped from the skyline like a falling shadow, crashing into a group of Penguin’s mercs mid-sprint. His cape flared like a scythe as he cut through them—brutal and clean.

Jason paused in the doorway to watch him move.

“Still got it,” he muttered. “Show-off.”

But the quiet didn’t last.

Behind the main bar, something heavy shifted. Jason’s instincts flared an instant before the muzzle flash—he ducked, twisting into a slide behind an overturned couch. A shotgun slug tore through the doorframe where his head had been.

“Hey!” he barked. “Do I look like I work for the Iceberg Lounge?”

He retaliated with a flashbang of his own—thrown low, skipping across the tile before erupting in a pulse of thunder and light.

Jason vaulted over the bar just as another barrage of automatic fire shredded the liquor shelf behind him. Shards of glass and bourbon rained down like confetti in hell. He hit the ground in a roll, came up firing—two clean shots through the knee of one of Penguin’s remaining enforcers. The man howled, dropped his rifle, and collapsed onto the marble with a wet crunch.

“Lobby’s mostly clear,” Jason muttered into his comm, breathing hard. “One more’s trying to play dead. I’ll fix that.”

“Don’t kill him,” Batman’s voice came sharp through the earpiece.

Jason tilted his head, eyes narrowing behind the red lens of his helmet. “You wound me. Literally. I only kill people when they shoot first.”

A pause. Then: “That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”

Jason muttered something under his breath and slammed the butt of his pistol into the goon’s head, knocking him out cold.

He made for the service stairwell at the rear of the hotel, bounding up flights two at a time. His boots echoed against the chipped tile, smudges of blood trailing in his wake.

“So…” Jason began, fumbling with the comms to flick to the private channel, not having used them in a while since he mostly patrolled alone. “How come you didn’t call for Robin?”

There was a long silence. Then Bruce replied, voice tight. “Robin wanted to build snowmen.”

Jason let out a disbelieving snort as he kicked open the rooftop access door. “That’s not what Oracle says.”

“Oracle doesn’t know everything.”

“She thinks the kid’s had his Harvey night.”

That stopped Bruce for a second. The wind howled across the rooftop, and Jason could hear it even over comms.

“Harvey night?” Bruce repeated.

Jason stepped out into the snow-dusted expanse of the rooftop, glass crunching beneath his soles. Below, the streets boiled with flashing lights and movement—SWAT fanning out, GCPD securing the perimeter. The storm above them had started to ease, the moon glowing pale and indifferent.

“I guess you wouldn’t know about those,” Jason said quietly. “It’s… a thing between the rest of us.”

Bruce didn’t answer.

“Nightwing’s name for it,” Jason continued. “Something real bad that happens on the job when we’re still too young. Something that shakes us. Maybe permanently. The Batgirls, all the Robins—every single one of us has had a Harvey night.”

Another beat of silence.

Jason’s voice dropped lower. “So, assuming Oracle does know everything… how bad was it? Bad enough the kid might quit?”

Bruce’s answer was immediate. Cold. Final.

“He can’t quit.”

Jason turned his eyes to the horizon, snowflakes clinging to his helmet. “Yeah? Why not?”

“Because Gotham is on the edge of a gang war,” Bruce said. “Because the city needs Robin.”

Jason didn’t respond at first. He crossed the rooftop, crouching at the ledge to observe a GCPD transport taking two Penguin men into custody below. The ice on the ledge cracked softly beneath his fingers.

“Hey,” Jason said finally. “Back there. When I asked if the kid might quit… you said he can’t. Not he won’t. What did you mean by that?”

A low rustle, fabric against armor. Bruce had moved. He was near now—Jason could sense it even if he couldn’t see him.

“If Robin did quit… then what?” Bruce said at last. “A normal life? You know better than anyone—that kind of life is unavailable to him. He came to me so damaged by the League of Assassins, I don’t know if he’ll ever fully overcome their influence.”

“You think he’s still theirs?”

“I think,” Bruce said carefully, “even now… they’re trying to pull him back in. I suspect even Malik Bashar is one of their own.”

“The Sacred Heart director?” Jason asked. “ I thought he was a friend”

"He's taken Robin under his wing. He's taken great interest in him... supposedly sees great promise in him. I think it's more likely Dr Bashar's involved with the Al Ghuls... orchestrating this tension between Robin and me."

Jason titled his helmet, frowning underneath it, “And you know this how…? Is it so hard to believe Bashar does see promise in him?”

“You and I know what Robin is capable of,” Bruce said. “But based on grades, test scores, and the usual academic metrics… he’s unremarkable in comparison to other academically inclined students. Average. Blends in. And Malik Bashar doesn’t seem like a man easily impressed by mediocrity. Either Bashar knows more than he should about Robin... or he's hiding some other motive."

Bruce let the silence settle around them, aware of his son’s judgemental gaze beneath the red helmet. “Damian stands to be the best of us,” he said at last, the words weighed down. “But he didn’t come to Gotham to be Bruce Wayne’s son. Or to live a normal life.”

Jason watched him carefully, saying nothing.

“He came for Batman,” Bruce continued. “He came for me. For the mission. For what I represent. If he’s not Batman’s partner anymore…” His jaw clenched beneath the cowl. “Then there’s nothing keeping him here.”

“If he gives up the mask…” He hesitated, exhaled. “I’ll lose him.”

The wind moved around them like something alive—cold, relentless, biting through even the reinforced weave of their suits. Jason took a step forward, slow and deliberate, then another—until he stood at the edge of the rooftop, just above the streetlights.

“You know,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “my Harvey night wasn’t what you’d think.”

Bruce looked up. Jason’s voice was quieter now, rough around the edges.

“You wouldn’t even remember it. It was a jumper’s face as he fell off a bridge. He didn’t even die… we saved him, but for whatever reason, it stuck with me for a long time. I couldn’t get his expression out of my head.”

He paused, letting the memory wash over him.

“I knew even then—you’d never let me quit. Hell, I didn’t even ask.” He gave a dry laugh, bitter and hollow. “But if I had? If you had let me go… the thing that happened wouldn't have happened. And we might be okay now.”

He didn’t need to say what the thing was. It lived in both their bones.

Before Bruce could speak—before he could reach out, offer anything—Jason turned back to the ledge, already crouched low, and launched himself off.

Sighing, Batman turned back to the withering chaos beneath, pressing his hand to his cowl. “Oracle. I’m on my way to the Batcave, pull up the files on the Falcones, especially Alberto.”

By the time the Batmobile rolled to a stop beneath Wayne Manor, the Cave was already lit with monitor glow. Bruce didn’t waste time. He stepped out, cape still damp from melted snow, and headed straight for the center console.

The screens were already alive with data. Oracle’s voice cut through the quiet as he pulled off his cowl and placed it onto the desk.

“Since Alberto’s return from Italy five years ago,” Barbara started “he has been legitimizing old Falcone businesses. Especially the import companies Carmine used back in the day to launder his fortune.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked across the screen—shell corporations scrubbed clean, board appointments, glossy charity press clippings, and export records that had all the right stamps.

“On paper, it’s clean,” she continued. “No ties to anything underground. His lawyers are aggressive. He’s got legitimate investors, real products. Either he’s serious about going straight—”

“—Or he’s better at hiding it than his father ever was,” Bruce muttered.

Barbara leaned back, arms crossed. “Alberto’s legit. Or trying to be.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “He’s still a Falcone.”

“Sure,” Barbara said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s Carmine Falcone .”

Bruce didn’t reply. He scrolled through the documents, eyes sharp. License renewals for Falcone-owned shoe imports. Health inspections passed for a chain of old family-run restaurants. A few LLC restructures—laundering nothing, hiding even less. Everything stamped, approved, and filed under Alberto’s name. No backdoors. No red flags. Just a once-criminal empire trying to look like a family business.

“No front companies,” Barbara added. “No old lieutenants showing up on the payroll. It’s all legitimate—real lawyers, real accountants.”

Selina stood, wandered over. “So either he’s going straight, or he’s playing a long game.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Carmine always played long. Alberto could just be doing his dirt work.”

“Then check this out,” Barbara said, pulling up a new file. “Visitation logs. Blackgate.”

A scan of a logbook popped up. She flipped through it quickly. Week after week. Year after year.

“I pulled every sign-in record since Carmine went in,” Barbara said. “Facial rec. Signature tracking. Even handwriting comparison just in case he signed under an alias.”

Selina moved in closer. “And?”

“Nothing,” Barbara said. “Not once. He hasn’t visited his father in five years.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Not even a holiday.”

Barbara shook her head. “No Christmas. No birthdays. No lawyers on his behalf. No messages sent through third parties. If they’re in contact, it’s off the books and deep underground.”

“Maybe they aren’t in contact,” Selina suggested, sauntering in from her patrol and leaning up to press a kiss to Bruce’s cheek. He squeezed her hip in return. “Maybe this is exactly what it looks like. He’s cutting ties.”

“You can’t just cut ties with a legacy like the Falcone’s,” he said, leaning his fists against the console. “If Carmine’s behind this, he’s not doing it alone. So who else in the family’s still active?”

Barbara glanced at him. “You’re thinking there’s someone out there making the calls for him.”

“He’s locked up. Limited communication, controlled environment. He needs someone with reach on the outside.”

Selina tilted her head, considering. “Sofia?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. She’s still in Arkham. Barely functioning half the time. Whatever damage she took when the Roman empire fell—it broke something in her. She’s not coordinating street hits from a padded cell.”

Barbara nodded. “Last I checked, she hadn’t even had visitors in over a year.”

“And the Vitis?” Selina asked.

Bruce’s gaze flicked to the side, considering that. “What’s left of them fled back to Italy after Carmine went down. Most of them are under new identities or tangled up in European crime networks. Gotham’s too hot for them.”

“So who’s left?” Barbara asked.

Bruce’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “No one that makes sense.”

“If there’s a new player in the mix, they’re staying quiet. Maybe they’re not using the Falcone name, but the assets? The structure?”

“Which is what Carmine built,” Bruce said. “Decades ago. And it’s still working. Someone’s keeping the machinery moving.”

“You still think it’s Alberto?”

“I think…” Bruce paused, rubbing at his jaw. “I think Alberto’s trying to walk a line. Maybe he’s done with Carmine. Or maybe he’s just pretending to be. But someone’s keeping the old network alive.”

“Someone Carmine trusts,” Barbara added.

Bruce nodded once. “And if we can figure out who that is, we get to the center.”

Selina crossed her arms. “So what’s the next move, Bat?”

“We watch everyone connected to Carmine,” Bruce said. “The lawyers. The old bodyguards. Anyone who still carries the name or the memory. If someone’s helping him reach outside those prison walls, I want to know who they are and what they’re planning.”

Barbara pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll reroute some surveillance to his legal team. See who’s doing the talking for him in public—and who might be covering up the private.”

Bruce nodded, already thinking two steps ahead. “Start there. If he’s speaking, it’s through trusted channels. Longtime lieutenants. Someone familiar.”

“And Alberto?” Selina asked. “You want to tail him?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, then said, “Yes. If he’s clean, I want to know for sure. And if he’s not… I want to know what his intentions are.”

He turned back to the monitor with a solemn expression. This was becoming all too familiar. Gotham was on the brink of a gang war, and he needed to stop it.

Elena tugged her black coat tighter around herself as she trudged up the stone steps of Gotham Academy, boots squeaking faintly against half-melted slush. Thick, cable-knit tights hugged her legs under the standard-issue plaid school skirt, but even they couldn’t keep the chill from biting through. She missed the days of jeans and hoodies in public school — back when comfort didn’t equal a detention slip, and no one cared if your coat wasn’t in regulation black or navy.

Inside, the air was marginally warmer. The grand halls were marginally less freezing, but the fluorescent lights gave everything a sickly, washed-out hue. Students shuffled through the corridors like half-dead cattle, eyes glazed, posture defeated. First day back from winter break, and the school already looked like it was mourning.

Elena checked her phone, biting back a sigh as she read the morning email:

MANDATORY JUNIOR ASSEMBLY – 8:00AM – CHAPEL HALLAttendance required. Topic: College Prep, SATs, Internships.

Her breath hissed through her teeth. She and Damian had planned to meet in the newsroom first thing—go over what they’d gathered on the Phantom Scholarship case, compare timelines, maybe finally find a thread worth pulling. But now? Now she had to sit through a brain numbing presentation reminding her about SATs, college applications, and internships.

Every delay in the investigation only frustrated her further, and each passing day with no progress made her want to violently pull her hair. They had nothing completely solid  or definite. Just grainy CCTV footage, a bunch of redacted files, and theories based off their weak links. If Kade showed up to Friday’s football game like he usually did, they might finally have a way forward. If not... another dead end.

By the time Elena had entered the school’s chapel, which had been repurposed into an assembly hall, the warmth of the school’s radiators had thawed her cheeks. Her breath no longer clouded in the air, but her fingers still felt quite stiff as she adjusted a gold plated band on her middle finger so it wasn’t pressing directly on the inflexible joint of her finger.

She slid into a pew near the middle, dropping her bag at her feet. Lila and Amrita were already there, leaning in close over Amrita’s phone screen, the colourful glow lighting up their faces.

“This is what my cousin wore for the Mehndi. It’s called—”

Lila caught her friend’s hand mid-sentence, lifting it up with a dramatic gasp. “Wait, wait. Your mehndi is so pretty. Did you do this yourself?”

Amrita beamed, curling her fingers. “Mostly. My aunt helped with my right hand. I brought some cones from India so I can practice patterns on you both when you come over Friday.”

Elena, half-listening, gave a small smile, eyes flitting over the sea of uniforms in the chapel. The room was filling up fast, but still—no sign of Damian. Her gaze flicked once more toward the chapel doors before returning to her friends.

Lila didn’t miss it.

“Don’t bother,” she said, voice light but knowing, eyes fixed on Elena. “In six years of knowing Damian Wayne, I’ve never seen him at an assembly. Not even once.”

Elena blinked, furrowing her brows in her best attempt to muster a confused expression. “I wasn’t looking for him.”

“Yeah right,” Lila just gave a little shrug, a smirk playing at her lips. “You’ve been more talkative with him lately. He doesn’t waste time on just anyone.”

“I’m not—” Elena started, but before she could properly formulate a defense, the mic screeched once and Headmaster Collingwood’s voice rang out over the speakers.

“Settle down, please. Welcome back, students. I trust you’ve all had a restful break.” He launched into a predictably brief yet dull speech about goals, growth, and making the most of the new term. The moment he stepped aside, their guidance counselor took the stage, clutching a thick folder.

Elena’s shoulders slumped as she began her spiel.

“For many of you, junior year is a critical moment in your academic journey…” she began, her tone equal parts chipper and soul-dead. “We’ll be going through the application timeline, and the differences between the SAT and ACT today, as well as extracurricular strategies and internship opportunities…”

Elena listened intently despite her bored posture. A few rows ahead, a student yawned audibly. A couple of others had already pulled out their phones to stealth-scroll.

She supposed most of them didn’t need to focus much. They had the advantages of Ivy League connections, generations of legacy status, and enough money to donate entire buildings to colleges. Meanwhile, Elena had spent a good chunk of the Christmas break scouring the internet for every journalism-related opportunity she could find. The one that stood out most to her was a summer-long internship at the Gotham Gazette. Despite the obvious fact it was intensely competitive and only admitted one student for each news category, Elena desperately wanted it and had already filled out most of the application.

The information being regurgitated at the front of the chapel wasn’t new to her. She’d already gone over most of it during the break, poring through college prep websites and poking around old forums for tips. She could recite SAT and ACT differences in her sleep by now. What mattered more were the internships. 

Her eyes flicked around the room again, scanning the back of the chapel more out of sheer habit than expectation that Damian would suddenly appear.

She turned back to the guidance counsellor, whose name had slipped her mind completely, just as the bench dipped beside her.

The scent of Damian’s woodsy oud, which she’d grown familiar with after spending countless hours sleuthing with him in the newsroom and his brother’s penthouse, invaded her senses. Damian had slid into the space next to her, somehow managing to make it from the entrance to here without her noticing. 

Their eyes met briefly and she tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she shot him a questioning expression. 

Damian Wayne didn’t come to assemblies. Not ever. At least according to Lila who had said so with the certainty of someone who’d known him for years. He must have made a habit of skipping them, like most things he considered beneath his time. 

She stared at him for a beat. “You don’t come to assemblies,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Just pulled out a pen from his bag, then a small notepad from—leather-bound, of course. His handwriting was already flowing across the page like he hadn’t missed a beat.

“I had nothing better to do,” he said eventually, voice hushed, eyes still on the page which he was currently titling the page “ college applications.”

Huh. He was here, at an assembly, of his own accord. And he was taking it rather than regarding it with his usual aloofness.

A teacher in the aisle gave them a sharp look, then raised two fingers and jabbed them at her own eyes in the universal “I’m watching you” gesture. Elena pressed her lips together, suppressing a smirk as she turned forward again.

Her mind was still reeling, though. Damian Wayne, actually listening to college talk? There was something oddly grounding about it—the idea that even he, with all his untouchable Wayne privilege and glacial stoicism, had to think about applications and futures.

By the time it ended, the students burst from the pews like racehorses at the bell. Amrita and Lila melted into the crowd, but not before flashing her two pointed, smug expressions and suggestive glances.

Elena narrowed her eyes at them, silently mouthing traitors as they disappeared toward the exits. Thankfully, Damian was too busy zipping his notepad into his bag to notice. 

She slung her own bag over her shoulder and turned toward the exit. He matched her pace without a word, naturally falling into step with each other.

“I walked past my French classroom earlier,” Damian said, tone clipped. “We have a substitute. A waste of time.”

“Oh. So, you’re ditching?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’m already fluent. There’s no point sitting through an hour of someone mispronouncing the simplest of words.”

The hallways were much louder now that the entire student population was trying to get to class, or more accurately, reluctantly dragging their feet to class. Damian and Elena didn’t even bother attempting to talk to each other over the din of chatter and slamming locker doors, so just silently passed through the crowds. Damian occasionally had to impatiently shoulder through crowds so they didn’t have to stand there like idiots waiting for people to take a hint and move.

When they walked into the newsroom, it was empty, sunlight spilling across the cluttered desks in dappled slants. Her desk sat proudly by the window—the biggest one, mostly neat apart from the stack of drafts she had marked before the break and had been too lazy to put in the filing cabinet. Her chair gave a victorious squeak as she sank into it, spinning halfway around before catching herself on the edge of the desk.

Damian placed his backpack on her desk, pulling a chair from the adjacent desk easily, setting it down opposite Elena before sitting.

She spoke first, eager to dive head first into the investigation. “So? Football game’s on Friday. That gives us three days.”

“We’ll wait until then.”

“What? You were the one who said we have to keep looking. We can’t just stop.”

“Gold. We are not halting the investigation, but we must use our time wisely. The football game may lead us to a solid answer on whether Kade is involved in these disappearances or his timely appearances at these high school games are coincidental.”

“But we have another lead,” Elena pointed out, “The receptionist at the clinic. As far as we know she has interacted with every single one of these students, and I’m sure she knows something. We should go back to the clinic after school; she might agree to me interviewing her.”

“No,” Damian said flatly, his tone so final it gave no room for argument.

She blinked. “Wow. Straight to the shutdown, huh?” She leaned in closer toward him, chin tipped slightly in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I never joke.”

“I know that,” Elena said dryly. “But you obviously aren’t telling me something. Otherwise, you would have driven me yourself to the clinic if it meant moving the investigation forward.”

“No,” Damian said again, louder now.

Her spine straightened and her mouth twisted in frustration. “Why not?”

“Why must you be so infuriatingly stubborn?”

“Damian, why not? We’re just asking questions. We’re not breaking in or anything wildly dangerous.”

“It’s not safe.”

“How is it not safe?” she prodded again, clearly not willing to relent until he was clear with her. Damian was equally, if not more, as stubborn as her. His green eyes, which looked like gleaming jewels as a ray of sunlight washed over them, met hers in a headstrong gaze. She seriously wished he didn’t have to have the most admirable features when she was trying to be 

He didn’t answer and she sighed, “Damian. Please, tell me.” She leaned back a little, conscious that she may have been invading his personal space again. “You clearly know something and you’re not telling me.”

Her defeated, pleading tone must’ve gotten through to him somehow, because he finally spoke with reason. “When the receptionist reached into the drawer to get the paperwork out, I saw what else was inside through the reflection of the screen.”

“What did you see?” she asked, curious what object Damian could have spotted to elicit such a reaction out of him. It must have been something terrible if he kept it from her.

Damian swallowed, as if delaying his answer. Whatever it was, he was still unsure whether to tell her or not, which was strange considering he usually seemed quite sure of himself. “She was going to draw a firearm.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Thought. Tried again. “Like a gun?”

He nodded in confirmation.

That doesn’t make any sense. She was—she smiled. She looked—normal. She even offered to show us the testing room.”

“I know.”

“Maybe she just had it for protection. In case someone threatening came in,” Elena threw the suggestion out there but even her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely sold on her desperate theory.

“I saw it with my two eyes, Gold. Believe me, I wouldn’t be telling you unless I knew for sure. Her hand reached out for the gun.”

Elena’s stomach turned, slow and cold.

Her memory reeled, rewinding the moment, trying to place the cues she’d missed. She’d been focused on the woman’s words, on the too-perfect smile, on the possibility of getting closer to the truth. She hadn’t even for a moment considered she should’ve kept her guard up. Hadn’t even felt the danger. And yet, it had been there. Inches away.

“You didn’t tell me,” she said finally, gathering herself.

Damian didn’t flinch. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you already looked terrified of what might’ve happened to the other students,” he said. “I wasn’t going to tell you that you were seconds away from having a gun pointed at your head.”

Elena exhaled through her nose, turning away from him to stare out the window, the heel of her shoe knocking gently against the desk leg. She didn’t want to admit how much his words had unsettled her. The moment felt like it had reopened in her head—like some slow-motion horror reel she hadn’t even known she’d starred in. The weight of it pressed behind her ribs, hot and prickling. However, the anger she’d expected to feel—the flare of resentment, the knee-jerk need to push back—never came. Instead, what settled in her chest was something heavier. Not fear. Not exactly. But a clarity that felt like dropping into cold water. She hadn’t been careful. She’d been eager. Too eager. She’d misread everything, and if Damian hadn’t been there—

The silence between them thickened, stretching long, both of them refusing to look away. Then finally, Elena leaned back in her chair, arms folded tight across her chest. Ugh, she really hated being vulnerable in front of anyone. “Fine,” she muttered. “We wait until Friday.”

“Were you planning on doing something in your free period?” Damian asked, allowing the subject to drop once he picked up her discomfort.

“What, like right now?”

He nodded once.

She hesitated. Then shrugged. “Just some flashcards for our history midterm next week.”

“Give them to me; I’ll quiz you,” it sounded more like a demand than an offer 

She blinked, still a little dumbstruck by the revelation. “Really?”

“Unless you’d prefer failing quietly and alone.”

Elena huffed out something halfway between a laugh and a scoff, but her hand was already moving to unzip her bag. Fingers brushed past her numerous folders and notebooks until she tugged out a thick elastic-bound stack of colour-coded flashcards and laid them on the desk.

They found a rhythm quickly—The last forty five minutes spent with Damian reading a card, and Elena firing back answers. She wasn’t perfect, but she was fast, and quicker than he’d expected. Especially when they hit Revolutionary America.

“Battle of Saratoga,” he prompted.

“1777. A decisive battle in the American Revolution. Major turning point; the American victory convinced the French to officially support the colonies by sending aid—supplies, troops, the works.”

“Treaty of Paris?”

“1783. Official end of the American Revolution. Britain recognized American independence. The U.S. gained land west of the Mississippi.”

He blinked. She was barely waiting for him to finish reading the prompts now.

“Gold. Are you… speedrunning the American Revolution?”

She grinned. “Maybe.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I lived with a foster family for eight months when I was fourteen. They were nice enough, but they thought reading too much was antisocial. So, they put me on a book-buying ban because I kept asking for new ones and finishing them the same day.”

“I started reading everything else in the house,” she continued.  Didn’t matter what it was. Ingredient labels. Board game manuals. The back of shampoo bottles.”

“And the Revolutionary War?”

She nodded. “There was this massive book about American independence in the hallway bookshelf. Just collecting dust so I read it once. Then twice. Third time through they started to grow a little concerned I’d become a patriot or something.” She shrugged. “Eventually they gave in and got me a library card.”

Damian didn’t smile, exactly. But there was something softer in the way he looked at her now. Like he was seeing not just the top student firing answers at him—but the stubbornness that made her learn it all in the first place.

“You read the same history book three times out of sheer spite,” he said.

“Correct,” Elena affirmed. “And I stand by it.”

Damian flipped the next card between his fingers but didn’t bother looking at the back. "You’re not even American, yet you know more about the revolution than the average American," he pointed out.

Elena shrugged. “So, what? I’ve lived here my entire life. I was probably born here too, anyway.”

Damian placed the entire stack down, attention solely on her. “How did you end up in foster care?”

There it was. No hesitation. No softened segue.

Just the question most people tiptoed around like it might detonate if they looked at it wrong.

His up-front nature was mostly regarded negatively over the last three years she has known Damian. Teachers called him rude when pointing out a mistake in their working out, and students found him quite harsh, but Elena found it refreshing. Growing up in foster care meant she was bound to face difficult situations—false hope, foster families falling through, being sent back. Every time, her social worker would shoot her a saccharine smile, offer a few reassuring words with no substance, and when Elena would ask if she would ever be adopted, her social worker would beat around the bush with pleasantries. Sugar-coated reassurances that meant nothing.

Still, the question was one that evoked all sorts of emotions she’d worked through over the years. Some, she had gotten over, others less so. "It’s a dull story, really," she muttered, lowering her gaze to her lap as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. She cleared her throat and looked up, brown eyes meeting emerald orbs. “I was found at the Gotham fire station—one of those baby boxes. The kind they keep for abandoned kids.”

“I had a blanket, and a note. Just my name, ‘Elena Gold.’ No date, no nothing. Just a name they had to guess at. They ran the paperwork through every system they could but found nothing. They couldn’t find any record of an ‘Elena Gold’ being born anywhere. No parents with that last name who fit the profile, no one with any claim on me.” She shook her head, lips pressed together. “Whoever left me must’ve wanted to cover their tracks up pretty well,” she said in a poor attempt at making light of her situation.

“A doctor had to assign me a predicted date of birth and sign off on a birth certificate since I didn’t have one. They think I was only a week old when I was found,” She swallowed, voice tight. “Ever since then I grew up between foster families, but when I turned thirteen I told my social worker I just wanted to stay at the home permanently.”

“Were you never curious about where you came from?” he asked thoughtfully.

“I was,” she said softly. “That’s why I did that blood test a few years ago. You know, one of those ancestry ones?”

Damian nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. “Did you ever find a match?”

“I… don’t think so.” She wrinkled her nose, then leaned back in her chair, arms folded. “They  said they would ‘keep me informed if any relatives were found on the global database,’ I hoped everyday that something would come but nothing ever came in the mail.” 

“Hope breeds eternal misery.”

“Of course you would say that.” He watched her in silence as she rolled her eyes and smiled faintly. “But I got obsessed anyway,” she said, brushing a hand through her hair. “Started teaching myself Italian. Downloaded grammar books, read about all these little towns like I was going to hop on a train and find someone who looked like me.”

“I even stalked everyone in Gotham with the last name Gold,” she admitted. “Checked alumni records, old articles, city housing registries. I got so good at searching public records. They were total dead ends though.”

He leaned forward slightly, lips curling at the edges of his mouth in what she could only interpret as his funny way of showing amusement. “Perhaps I should’ve gotten you a library full of Italian books for Christmas instead. That may have satiated your curiosity.”

Elena rolled her eyes. Then promptly kicked his chair with her shoe, just enough to make it scoot an inch. 

Damian didn’t seem at all phased. “You don’t seem to mind much.”

She raised a brow and regarded him curiously; he was really good at reading someone. Like, really good. “I don’t. Not anymore. I guess it’s more to do with the fact I can’t miss someone I never knew.”

Before Damian could say anything in response, the shrill bell sliced through the conversation, essentially ending it. They packed their things up and went their separate ways—Elena had Spanish, Damian had art. 

Before Elena reached the end of the corridor and had to turn right, she looked back once more to see half of Damian’s figure disappear into the art classroom.

Later, when Lila or Amrita asked what had happened during her free period with Damian, Elena just shrugged, her voice nonchalant. “We went our separate ways after the assembly. I told you, we barely know each other.”

[reflections-of-mobius]

[ @familylightfox || Continued from here!]

Little voices, grand gestures- anything and everything to make the story feel more alive for his children. He made sure each could see each page of the book as he read it, smiling all the while. It was no surprise that Izzy fell asleep first- the younger of his kids, her bedtime was far more set-in-stone than her brother's...though Roman was also limited from time to time.

He silenced a chuckle at the soft snores of the youth, folding the book shut with the silent movement of its spine. Julius trailed after Roman, feeling content and grateful for the two- something he felt each and every night, to be certain, but tonight...somehow, he felt that especially so.

"I would love to, Roman." The youth's code had progressed a bit since his early days, but there were still trademarks of the mobian's own hand in every line he wrote. Julius loved pouring over his son's work- it gave him a glimpse into what Roman had planned for whatever project had caught his eye, each and every time. Though this was more of a test of sorts- a way to see how Roman's teachings were progressing...he could hope the youth passed with flying marks, but it certainly wouldn't be the end of the world if he didn't. "If it doesn't, then we'll simply have to work on it until it does. And if it does...well, there may be a town visit in the near future for you, my boy."

There would be, regardless- but there was nothing wrong with a carrot to offer, even if it was as common as bubblegum at a highway rest stop.

"We should be passing by a nice city soon...I'll have to check Tire's navigation systems, but. It would be a pleasant break from your studies, wouldn't it?" He offered a lighthearted smile. Sure, the kids had to be careful in town- but so did he. It was simply the trade-off.

[]

Tire was rumbling along the road while Julius read to Izzy and Roman- sensors flickering. Something was out there. Not in the ocean, but somewhere- just in the woods, beyond the road. Several Egg Pods were deployed...

And all of them went offline.

A warning was sent out- moments before something launched from the trees. Red and blaring, a burning projectile that Tire had no chance to avoid even if it swerved. That didn't stop it from trying, though.

[]

Several of his children had suddenly gone offline. Julius felt ice slither down his spine.

"---Roman, go get Izz-!"

BANG!!!!

KRACK-A-KWSHHHHHHHHHHHH---

The world suddenly slammed sideways, multiple warnings blaring through Julius' brain as his false eye was overloaded with information. The lights overhead flashed and sparked- before shutting off. He fell straight into the wall.

[mariacallous]

This is dated 12-29-2023, for the record.

It was a nightmare scenario that Ukrainian and Western officials had feared for months. Western officials have watched as Russia stacked up precision-guided munitions to launch targeted attacks on Ukrainian critical infrastructure in the winter while keeping up the pace of strikes on cities using unguided “dumb” bombs. 

And on Friday morning, it became a reality. Russia conducted a hailstorm of strikes across Ukraine, hitting Kyiv, Dnipro, Lviv, Zaporizhzhia, Odesa, and Kharkiv. There were at least 158 drone and missile strikes in all, which damaged hospitals, a shopping mall, and schools, killing at least 31 people and injuring more than 160. 

The numbers are still going up as search and rescue teams pick through the rubble. Russia fired its missiles with so much abandon that the Polish government confirmed one of the Kremlin’s projectiles entered its airspace. In the chaos that engulfed the Kyiv streets, one man tried to stop the fires from spreading by driving his burning car away from his neighbors. 

The renewed barrages have Ukrainian officials and U.S. experts questioning how long they’ll be able to keep the lights on during winter—or hold territory—especially with the long tail of U.S. military aid running out, unless Congress acts soon. 

Ukrainian officials believe that Russia’s capacity to strike is even greater than what it just showed off: The Kremlin can fire off about 300 Iranian-made suicide drones in one attack on Ukraine and about 150 ballistic missiles in one shot on Kyiv, said Sasha Ustinova, a Ukrainian lawmaker.  

And with the Ukrainian counteroffensive stalled and fresh weapons not flowing until January at the earliest, how resilient will the Ukrainians be? 

“The Ukrainians are heading for a tough winter, for obvious reasons,” Swedish Defense Minister Pal Jonson said in an interview earlier this month. “But I think that the Ukrainian morale is much, much higher than the Russian morale. What is crucial right now, of course, is that we all will step up support.”

But that morale is now getting tested, as Ukrainians were shaken out of bed by dozens of air raid alerts that lit up their phones. And the aid isn’t coming—at least until the U.S. Congress gets back from recess in the second week of January, and maybe for even longer. 

“Ukraine needs funding now to continue to fight for freedom from such horror in 2024,” Bridget Brink, the U.S. ambassador to Ukraine, wrote in a tweet screenshotting the numerous air raid alerts sent to Kyiv residents.

U.S. officials have seen movement across the nearly stagnant front lines slow considerably in recent weeks, a trend that is expected to continue. The weather in Ukraine has hit subzero temperatures and piles of snow have mostly halted forward movement along the 600-mile front, underscoring the prospect of several months of attrition warfare. Ukraine is already making moves to lower the draft age to get more men onto the battlefield.  

Ukraine doesn’t need any silver bullets, experts say. It just needs the regular kind. 

“We’re clearly past the ground counteroffensive now,” said Peter Rough, a senior fellow and director of the Center on Europe and Eurasia at Hudson Institute. “Since it won’t get large numbers of longer-range precision fires, Ukraine probably needs to entrench and defend right now—and absent Congress passing the supplemental, even those defensive lines may not remain stable.” 

Still, Jonson said the Ukrainian military has been getting some access to more long-range strike weapons, which has forced Russian ships and aircraft to move farther away from the front lines. But Ukraine has had to build its military while fending off the invasion: Jonson said that Kyiv is operating about 600 types of Western weapons systems, while ferrying fuel and spare parts across the front line. All that on roads that will be coated with sleet, snow, and ice. 

Even with its limited arsenal of Western-provided long-range weapons like British-made Storm Shadows and the cluster variant of the U.S. Army Tactical Missile System, Ukraine has still made a dent, knocking out a Russian tank landing ship in Crimea on Tuesday. And experts believe that Russia’s fragile logistics system—which was never designed for continuous military operations across Europe’s second-largest country—is a good target.  

“If they had longer-range weapons, they could completely wreck the logistics system,” said Ben Hodges, the former head of U.S. Army Europe. “I think they know this is a real vulnerability for the Russians, particularly in winter.” 

But Ukrainians fear they are already running out of munitions—and time. Though Western-provided air defenses blanket much of Kyiv, they are not enough to defend against far-flung Russian attacks that could dot the country during winter. As much as Ukraine needs more air defenses to blunt attacks like Friday’s firestorm, Ukrainian officials have indicated that the falling temperatures have already shifted their priorities: Attrition warfare means a premium on artillery fire, and Europe is far behind on its target to produce a million artillery shells by March 2024.

“The biggest problem we’re going to run into is when they start shelling us heavily,” Ustinova said. “Because we will not have enough munitions.” 

But Ukraine has been forced to cut military operations as aid has dried up. Ukrainian Brig. Gen. Oleksandr Tarnavskyi, who heads up a group of forces in the southern push, told the BBC this week that Ukraine is facing particularly acute shortages of Soviet-era 122 mm and 152 mm shells, which still make up a large portion of Kyiv’s military arsenal. And if the Ukrainians want to apply forward pressure in spite of the snow, they have to clear entire minefields in front of them, only for the Russians to reseed the deadly explosives from the air. 

The Russian war chest is still heavily stocked. Hanno Pevkur, the Estonian defense minister, said in November that Russia still has about 7,000 to 8,000 tanks in reserve. Meanwhile, Russia has turned its sanctions-battered economy into a war economy. The Kremlin plans to spend 6 percent of GDP on defense next year. And Russian President Vladimir Putin’s deals for drones with Iran and ammunition with North Korea have indicated to Western officials that Russia’s game is quantity, not quality. 

“It doesn’t matter. As long as it fires, as long as it unfortunately kills Ukrainians, it is good for Russians,” Pevkur said. “They are increasing their production, especially ammunition. They don’t care about the quality. They care about the quantity.” 

Western officials believe that there are 300,000 to 400,000 Russian troops on Ukrainian soil, across a swath of occupied territory that is about the size of the contiguous Baltic states. Russian casualties have totaled about that many troops in the 22 months since the Kremlin’s full-scale invasion began. But experts caution that the cannon fodder won’t last forever. It might not have to last that much longer, though.

In November, Russian forces claimed to gain ground around the eastern city of Avdiivka, where Western officials believe the Kremlin is trying to make a pincer move to encircle the town, the site of a major coke fuel and chemical plant. They’ve also set their sights on the important railway junction of Kupyansk. 

“They just keep pushing these guys into a meat grinder to convey the sense that they have endless resources,” Hodges said. “They don’t have endless resources.” 

For now, though, absent Western aid, Russia’s focus on eastern Ukraine could lead Kyiv to cede more ground. 

“That’s very painful for us, because we pay thousands of lives to get every single kilometer,” Ustinova said.  

“They are already taking more territory,” she added. “Look at the map.”

[cyberpunkgame]

#PhantomLiberty brings new unlockable abilities for Gorilla Arms, Mantis Blades, Monowire & Projectile Launch System. Check them out in action! 💥

Huge kudos to Much118x! ❤️‍🔥

twitter.com/Much118x

[stardriveskickstart]

Parahuman Space

While Stardrives is complete, I'm not done with TTRPG writing yet. I've been working on the @para-imperium setting for over a decade now and I'm almost ready to launch a complete RPG based on the Cepheus System derived from Mongoose's Traveller (but more open).

Parahuman Space is a furry setting, yes, of the genetically modified variety. It covers over 2,000 years, but the RPG will be focused on the period after the collapse of the big interstellar empire. When newly independent planets and systems are busy scavenging the wreckage.

Players will primarily be salvage crews venturing into hazardous ruined spaceships and stations. Braving haywire security systems, leaks of corrosive chemicals, and the dreaded Kessler Syndrome to retrieve valuable technology.

In other words, dungeon delving.

At present I am about halfway done drafting the rulebook, drawn heavily from the Cepheus System Reference Document that can be read online here. Once I'm finished and I have interior artists lined up I was hoping to bring it to Kickstarter.

Below is the setting's history, as written for the rulebook.

Timeline:

Most calendars in Parahuman Space are oriented around the launch of the first parahuman-built starship as the start of the exodus from the clade’s system of origin, Sol. On the Georgian calendar the year 0 Post Exodus (PX) would be in the early 22nd century AD. So the Federation would be founded in the 32nd century AD and collapse in the 45th century, or roughly the year 4600 AD.

-40 Before Exodus: Creation of parahumans. -24 BX: Parahumans emancipated and corporations that enslaved them dissolved. -17 BX: Events of The Pride of Parahumans. 0 Post Exodus: First Seedship, the Traveller, launched. 4 PX: Pallas launches second seedship. 10 PX: Earth destroyed by relativistic projectile, origin unknown. 14 PX: Second Pallene seedship is caught by berserker probes that destroyed Sol.  Crew commit suicide first. 45 PX: Traveller lands on a planet orbiting Alpha Centauri A, creatively named "Secland." 48 PX: Vestan ship lands on opposite hemisphere from the Traveller.

115 PX: Ship from Ceres arrives at Epsilon Eridani to find a lifeless system. Instead of terraforming the new corporate government opts to build artificial habitats in the asteroid belts and beneath the surfaces of planets.

124 PX: A second Vestan ship discovers a garden world orbiting Tau Ceti. The crew decide to eschew technology after printing enough colonists in fear of Sol’s Destroyers.

150 PX: Sleeper ship carrying 1500 humans from Sol arrives over Secland. After an abortive attempt at invasion the survivors gradually integrate into Pallene society. 500 PX: Cold war between nations on Secland ends with the completion of terraforming.  Biological weapons leave New Pallas the sole nation standing. 950 PX: New Pallas contacts Tau Ceti thanks to the newly developed conversion drive. Triggering political restructuring among the natives resulting in the kingdom of Schwarswelt under King Hideo Fink.

1060 PX: Stable wormholes large enough to move a spaceship through are produced and launched from Proxima Centauri to Tau Ceti and Epsilon Eridani. 1100 PX: Alpha Centauri, Tau Ceti, and Epsilon Eridani form the Federation.

1150 PX: Centauri Grand Mayor Selkd de Argentum assassinated by Cetan partisans and succeeded by his more aggressive sister Lirdrill.

1200 PX: The Federation centralizes power in the office of the Praetor, first held by Lirdrill de Argentum.

1205 PX: The Outworld memetic quarantine and contingency program is established, forcibly relocating ideological dissidents to frontier worlds with limited technology.

1500 PX: After extensive lobbying by Centauran merchant houses and the Eridani Company, Federation Senate votes to allow limited trade with Outworlds, which now compose roughly half of all colonized planets.

1846 PX: Kershkans, the first extant xenosophont species, discovered. 1903 PX: Contact established with Kershkans. 2300 PX: Federal Guard destroys Sol with strangelet bomb, inducing a nova. Evacuation of Core Worlds begins. 2304 PX: Wormhole gates at Alpha Centauri collapsed ahead of the nova's radiation. The capital cut off, the Federation quickly begins to fragment. 2345 PX: The Emissary-Governor of the Tiere System, wracked by tensions between earlier colonists and new refugees, disables all nanotech in the system in an attempt to reassert control. He is lynched by an angry mob within weeks. 2590 PX: The self-proclaimed Imperator Ronkal launches Project Paladin, sending ships with new reactionless drives and augmentation suites to neighboring systems. 2600 PX: A Ronkalli ship reaches the Tiere System, only for interplanetary debris to kill the entire crew. The ship AI forcibly augments a crew of scavengers who come looking.

The Origin of Species:

The first parahumans were engineered from a blend of human and animal genes and bioprinted in corporate labs in high Terran orbit. They were designed to fill roles in asteroid mining that were too complex for robots but too dangerous to risk human life for. It took less than a decade for rebellions and strikes to start.

Fortunately, the parahumans found many allies on Terra and after the revolutionaries on Ceres worked out a treaty to maintain the flow of resources back to Terra they were essentially left to themselves. With their new freedom came disagreements over how to govern themselves. The guilds on Vesta formed a form of anarcho-capitalist feudalism regulated by the cloning guild that held the early parahumans’ sole means of reproduction. But then a Vestan scientist, a silver fox named Argentum, discovered a simple gene therapy to remove the genetic sterility imposed by their creators and their followers formed a breakaway colony on Pallas.

The Vestan guilds could not tolerate this loss of control and war almost broke out between the two asteroids. Luckily they found an alternative means of proving the superiority of their respective systems of governance. A space race. Exploration of other star systems had been proposed many times but there had been little interest with the abundance of resources right there in Sol system. But with the new nanofabricators it was possible for even a small asteroid outpost to construct an Orion-style starship with a small crew and the fabricators to print out an entire new colony, colonists included.

They couldn’t have timed the launch better. Just ten years after the first starship, the Traveller,was launched from Pallas towards Alpha Centauri, it received a frantic message from Sol:

“This is an automated beacon broadcasting what may well be the last message ever sent by the human race. Five years ago, our homeworld, Terra was struck by a 50-ton projectile traveling at 90% of the speed of light. The debris took out most of our habitats in Earth’s orbit, a few million of us survived elsewhere in the solar system. Then the rest of the invasion force arrived. Machines, vast machines kilometers in length that home in on any sources of radio transmissions, and annihilate them. We pray they are not intelligent and are simply weapons fired by a xenophobic alien race. But they’ve almost completed their work, we estimate that there’s only a couple hundred of us left in the system. We’re sending this message in hopes that there is someone out there who can hear it and beware. This universe is more hostile than we thought. They attack radio transmitters, dismantle whatever devices you are listening to this on before they find you.”

In total, five starships were far enough out to heed this warning. The Traveller, a Vestan ship also headed for Alpha Centauri, a second Vestan ship on course for Tau Ceti, a craft launched from Ceres to Epsilon Eridani, and the largest but slowest ship, a sleeper ark from Terra to Alpha Centauri.

Alpha Centauri: Sol’s Nearest Neighbors

Around Alpha Centauri A the Traveller found a Terra-sized rocky planet that had long been scoured of life by stellar storms from the trinary stars nearby. It was determined that this little rock could be reanimated with comparatively little effort and the crew made immediate plans to colonize and terraform the planet which they named “SecLand” (the landing on Pallas being the first land).

Just three years after the Traveller’s arrival, they were followed by their Vestan rival. Considering the horror they’d experienced since Sol’s last transmission they decided to set their differences aside and work together on terraforming SecLand, albeit from opposite hemispheres. This detente was strained at times, but the first real threat to world peace didn’t come until 150 years PX, when the ark carrying the last of unaltered humanity arrived.

By the time the sleeper ark arrived SecLand had a population of several thousand, the ark carried a mere 1500 passengers but over half were soldiers who’d entered stasis with orders to make sure that the first exosolar foothold of humanity was human, not parahuman. Or at least that was the plan, when word of what happened to their homeworld got out there was a mutiny and the victors immediately surrendered to the parahuman colonists, with most passengers integrating into the Republic of New Pallas. These newcomers brought a wide range of skills and knowledge, living knowledge, to a planet whose inhabitants up until then had primarily only known life inside their half-built habitat structures. The humans emigrated nearly equally to both colonies, over the centuries they interbred with the parahumans, with the net result being that many SecLanders have less fur or their facial features are closer to human than many further colonies. Today pure-bred humans, and parahumans (excepting uplifts), are miniscule minorities on SecLand with only a couple million individuals. The average SecLander resembles a blend of at least half a dozen species of Terragen origin.

For centuries the two colonies lived in relative peace, New Pallas breeding like rabbits while the Vestans cloned new citizens in bulk. But when the terraforming of SecLand had reached the point where colonists could breathe the atmosphere tensions re-established themselves between the two old enemies. With terraforming nearing completion some wondered what use New Pallas could have for the Vestans, on both continents. To that end the Vestans began to covertly build weapons in their Arcologies while New Pallas shifted their orbital satellites slightly. It all came to a head when the Vestans concealed a lethal virus in food shipments sent from their farms to the cities of New Pallas, thousands died in the months that followed. By the time the New Pallas government realized what had been done every Vestan arcology had unveiled surface-to-orbit mass drivers that could shoot down their enemy’s satellites. Even then, many arcologies were leveled by orbital strikes. Then the land battles began. The cybernetically augmented citizen-soldiers of New Pallas facing off against the bioprinted legions of the Vestans. The fighting raged on for months, then abruptly, it ceased less than a year after the war had begun. You see, the Vestans had underestimated New Pallas’s skill with biotechnology, crafting a virus that could be deadly to all the diverse inhabitants of the Republic had been difficult, but a dirty little secret of many 21st century regimes were the techniques to engineer a virus that had disastrous effects when it interacted with a specific gene or genes. And the Society for the Preservation of Parahuman Species had only used a couple genotypes for their army, and even fewer for their ruling priest-scientists. Once the virus had been grown any Vestan unit that came into contact with the enemy was dead within a week, in a month the ruling class had been reduced to a few paranoid individuals who had sealed themselves in hermetic bunkers. Specialized by repeated cloning into an effective caste system, and their soldier castes suddenly extinct, the surviving Vestan arcologies found themselves helpless against New Pallas occupation forces.

The medical advances achieved fighting the bioweapons led to the development of leukosynths, symbiotic microbots that could fight off nearly all microbes and repair the body at an accelerated rate. Even fighting off the advances of aging. When this “immortality” was proven to the public they clamored for the government to subsidize their deployment to the masses. Within the century 90% of New Pallas’ population enjoyed the benefits of leukosynths.

Among this chaos a new power emerged in the Pallene cities and settlements. Families all over the planet started giving birth to silver fox kits, reminiscent of their colony’s nearly-deified founder, Argentum. Some religious leaders saw this as a sign and exalted these silver foxes, propelling many into high positions in politics. The cynical suggested that the parents had modified their children’s genes in-utero, but after the plagues many people were desperate and willing to believe anything. Most of them were actually descendants of Argentum’s, but their progeny numbered in the hundreds of thousands by that point anyways.

An unintentional side effect of this bit of social engineering was a renewed interest in their origins out in the depths of space. And despite the terrors they knew awaited them they couldn’t help but wonder if any other colony ships had made it…

Epsilon Eridani

Ceres, the largest asteroid in Sol’s asteroid belt, was the main off-world base of operations for the corporation that created the first parahumans. During the revolution parahumans took over the local branch offices and largely continued to operate along the same lines. Their participation in the exosolar space race was almost an afterthought, an attempt at remaining relevant compared to the other two major asteroid civilizations in Sol system.

Upon arrival in the Epsilon Eridani system they found even fewer viable prospects for terraforming than those in Alpha Centauri. Instead, they opted to construct enclosed habitats in the system’s asteroid belts and under the surface of the larger rocky planets. Like on Ceres the colonists retained the corporate style of government that had served their forebears fairly well.

After about a century of this arrangement dissatisfaction among the lower ranking employees spread towards the shareholding class. A bloody revolution followed, after which the revolutionaries distributed the seized shares in the Eridani Company equally among the employees, granting everyone a vote in company elections and a share of the profits. Roughly a generation later a group of managers started buying up shares from others.

The third such regime made contact with a probe from New Pallas, trade began almost immediately.

Tau Ceti

The second Vestan colony ship took over a century to reach its destination, the star Tau Ceti. Along the way two generations of crew were decanted from the ship’s bioprinters to replace their predecessors. While the final crew were genetically identical to those who had set out from Vesta their commitment to the ideology of the Society for the Preservation of Parahuman Species had wavered, and with the news of Terra’s destruction some suggested that perhaps the best way to avoid sharing that world’s fate would be to lose their advanced technology.

That would require them to give up cloning as a means of reproduction, however they were unwilling to allow reckless crossing of genelines so they added genetic markers to prevent different phenotypes from interbreeding. Fortunately, unlike the other colony ships they discovered a lush world that wasn’t too hostile to Terran life which they named Schwarzwelt after the dark colors of the local chlorophyll analogue. They then settled each “species” into different “clans” in different regions of the planet. The clans grew in population rapidly, bumping up against the borders designated at founding in less than a century. War broke out.

Clans rallied behind charismatic warrior-nobles and weaker clans swore oaths of fealty to stronger ones to save their own skins. These wars continued until contact with the first probe from the Centauri system, realizing that there was another civilization out there and that they were capable of interstellar travel the clan heads held a council to decide what to do about it. The majority ruled that they needed a single man to represent their world when the outsiders came in person, they elected King Hideo Fink of the feline clan as the official ruler of Tau Ceti.

Birth of the Federation

While the first manned starships with conversion drives were still traveling to their neighbors, scientists at a research base orbiting Proxima Centauri, the small red dwarf star that barely qualified as the third star of the Alpha Centauri system, made a breakthrough. Using a newly discovered form of exotic matter a wormhole could be pulled from the quantum foam of the universe and held open indefinitely. Once they successfully sent a laser through a pinprick-sized wormhole from Proxima to Secland, the New Pallas senate approved funding for the production of wormholes large enough to send materials through.

A very expensive experiment proved that wormholes larger in diameter than a micrometer could be catastrophically destabilized by proximity to large gravity wells. It was decided that no traversable wormhole could be placed closer to a star than the Oort Cloud, but even then the potential for shortening an interstellar voyage from decades to months was too exciting. Proxima Centauri was enclosed in a small Dyson sphere dedicated solely to producing the exotic matter for wormholes and just over a century after contact the first interstellar traversable wormhole between Proxima Centauri and Tau Ceti was ready, Epsilon Eridani followed suit. Commerce and communication between the three systems exploded, and conflict with them.

While interstellar war didn’t break out, there were many in both Tau Ceti and Epsilon Eridani who suspected that New Pallas intended to invade them through their wormholes. Before long both planetary governments were dealing with armed insurrections. New Pallas was all too glad to provide advanced weaponry and vehicles, especially on Schwarzwelt where the military was decentralized and entire clans or houses were rebelling. Eventually Pallene troops and warships were stationed in the two systems to defend Pallene interests.

Seeing tensions rise Grand Mayor Selkd de Argentum came up with an ingenious solution, an interstellar government composed of representatives from all three star systems, as well as any new systems that would be colonized in the future. That way, everyone could theoretically have a say in interstellar politics. While visiting Schwarzwelt in 1150 to promote his vision, Selkd was assassinated by a sniper.

Selkd was succeeded by his sister, Lirdrill, who ordered the sniper’s family estates leveled by orbital bombardment as an example to the others. The ruling houses of other clans that had rebelled were rounded up and stripped of their noble ranks, then imprisoned in stasis banks. She continued her brother’s vision of a united parahuman government, but centralized around Alpha Centauri and the office of the Praetor, which would be held by her house.

Wormholes took a lot of time and resources to set up while probes were reporting back dozens of exoplanets that were inhabitable or easily terraformed, so the senate on New Pallas had been debating whether to launch colony fleets before or after traversable wormholes arrived at the potential colonies. As Lirdrill solidified the Federation, she made an executive decision. Wormholes would be spaced anywhere from 20 to 50 light-years apart, depending on resources and stellar density, and the stars between them would be reachable only by ships traveling at 80% of the speed of light or slower. Since leukosynths and cryo-stasis had become mature technologies by then the decades of travel were deemed acceptable.

Even then, there was some trouble finding enough volunteers to fill the colony ships that were being built. After a few suggestions of using rebels as indentured labor the Memetic Quarantine and Contingency program was established. The thousands of rebels held in stasis were to be shipped off to marginally inhabitable “Outworlds” light-decades from the nearest wormhole, and to make sure they didn’t draw too much attention, without any technology more advanced than the most basic steam engines. It was hoped that eventually they’d become “civilized” and submit to the Federation, or die off.

But, there was a secondary purpose to the program. The machines that had destroyed Terra were still out there, and if the Destroyers were to notice the Federation growing under their noses, perhaps they’d overlook those small Outworlds without radio.

The Traders

With the vast distances between most inhabited systems trade opportunities were limited. Most star systems had enough raw materials locally that shipping them from another star without a wormhole was simply not cost-effective. While nanofabrication meant that most manufactured goods could be produced in a small warehouse, if not a garage. For the first few centuries of expansion the only goods that were worth shipping interstellar were in the form of digital data, and most of that could be handled by laser transmissions, and the occasional courier.

Just over two centuries after the Federation was established, a courier ship operated by a branch of House Argentum decided to stop off at an Outworld. The captain decided to land a shuttle near one city-state established by the unwilling colonists to see what they were up to.

The locals were wowed by the great flying machine and the crew, having forgotten their origins already. They offered tribute to the visiting immortals, foodstuffs, sculptures, and textiles. The crew decided to take some of the tributes with them, leaving some inconsequential trinkets of Federation technology which were quickly replaced by their on-board fabricators.

When the courier next made port at a Federation starbase they showed off the unique goods they’d acquired, many of which were purchased at exorbitant prices by bored oligarchs. The Outworld’s inhabitants were rapidly diverging culturally from their forebears, far faster than the leukosynth-using worlds of the Federation. Those simple couriers had found something valuable to the nearly post-scarcity Federation, novelty.

Many houses and companies commissioned their own Outworld trade freighters while the senate debated whether it was even legal to trade with the “barbarians.” Eventually it was determined that trade would be allowed; but no weapons, vehicles, communications, or nanotechnology were to be given to Outworlders. Small starships with industrial nanofabricators would set up shop over Outworlds for years at a time, fabbing trinkets made from space-age alloys and exchanging them for cloth made with alien fibers. Many of these traders became fabulously wealthy during the next few centuries as the Federation expanded outwards and established more and more Outworlds.

It was fun while it lasted.

The Return of the Destroyers

The Destroyers responsible for Terra’s demise had made occasional appearances in the next two millennia. Zeroing in on sources of radio transmissions with relativistic projectiles followed by hunter-seeker probes that would scour the surrounding system of life. But it seemed they hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care about the Federation at large.

Then astronomers in the Federal core noticed something. Sol, Terra’s sun, was dimming. A few disposable probes sent back horrific images, a Dyson sphere, and it was almost complete. With the energy of Sol the Destroyers could incinerate the core worlds at the speed of light! A secret panel of the senate met with the Praetor to decide what to do about this unthinkable prospect.

The Federal Guard’s fleets were assembled at Proxima Centauri and dispatched for Sol. Never before had Federation technology been tested against the Destroyers, and no one wanted to underestimate them, so the fleet was loaded with the most advanced weaponry they could muster.

It wasn’t enough.

Quantum ansible transmissions reported massive ships that maneuvered without visible reactions and accelerated to impossible speeds in seconds. The Federal Guard was slaughtered in short order, but before they died one ship managed to launch an experimental superweapon at Sol itself.

A strangelet bomb, filled with the same strange matter that converted baryonic matter into antimatter in conversion drives, with catalysts for self-replication. They spread across the star in a matter of days, triggering a series of detonations that tore the star and the incomplete Dyson sphere apart.

When word came that they had a potential nova carrying strangelets in their neighborhood the Federation’s elites abandoned the core worlds en masse. Fleeing through the wormholes at top speed. As the secret mission to Sol and its destructive results leaked everyone who could afford a ship followed suit, departing for distant worlds that they hoped could bring salvation.

Then, just before the nova’s wavefront reached Proxima, the wormhole network was collapsed to prevent it from spreading to the far colonies.

The Collapse

Every star system that had a direct link to the wormhole network found itself swarmed by refugees from the Core. The remnants of the Federal Guard struggled to maintain order as refugees clashed with natives. Many refugee fleets were forced to leave for other systems that were less sparsely populated, a few even attempted to invade Outworlds. Other fleets became nomads, passing through inhabited systems without slowing down and trading for or extorting supplies as they passed.

As unrest reached critical levels many governors activated failsafe programs embedded in every Federation citizen’s leukosynth implants, rendering the star system’s entire population mortal. Most such governors were torn apart by angry mobs. On other worlds the population voluntarily gave up advanced technology in hopes of hiding from the Destroyers.

Three hundred years later the dust has mostly settled. Few star systems are politically united, with individual planets and megastructures using everything from wooden carts to gravity-manipulating starships. The Federation is ancient history, and its technology treasure waiting to be discovered.

[rockyp77mk3]

British Troops familiarize themselves with a PIAT at a firing range in Tunisia - February 19, 1943.

The PIAT, or “Projector, Infantry, Anti Tank” was a British man-portable anti-tank weapon designed in 1942. The PIAT utilized the “spigot mortar system” that launched a 2.5 pound shaped charge bomb using a cartridge in the tail of the projectile. It had an effective range of 115 yards in the direct fire anti-tank role.

First used during the Tunisian campaign in 1943, the PIAT remained in use with British and Commonwealth forces until the early 1950s.

The PIAT was known for its powerful recoil and difficulty in cocking the weapon.

[marvelshifter111]

🧸 here again!

I’d love a kinetic ability list please!

Thank you !

- 🧸

Sorry it took me some time ❤️

Kinetic beings

- Elemental, energy, mechanical and cosmic beings

Elemental beings

Born of nature's raw power, elemental creatures are living embodiments of fire, water, earth, and air. Fire spirits blaze with passion, leaving trails of ash; water elementals flow gracefully, nurturing life or unleashing floods; earth golems embody strength and resilience, shaping landscapes; and air sylphs dance invisibly, whispering through storms.

Elementokinesis - The power to manipulate elements, such as earth, water, air, fire, electricity, heat, cold, light, shadow, energy etc.

Elemental psychology - User with this ability either is or can transform into an elemental; a creature with a natural affinity towards elements fire, water, lightning, wind, earth.

Elemental energy manipulation - Users can create, shape and manipulate elemental energy.

Elemental boundary - The users possesses the ability to separate any and all elements from anything and everything else.

Elemental generation - The user can generate various elements such as earth, water, air, fire, electricity etc.

Environmental manipulation - Altering the environment (water creatures creating floods, earth creatures shaping terrain).

Elemental blast - The user can release elements/energy over a specific target area causing great damage and/or delivering great shock waves of pure force.

Energy beings

Vibrating with raw energy, these beings are in constant motion, their forms flickering between light and matter. Their presence crackles with intensity, and they can harness ambient energy to obliterate obstacles or illuminate the darkest spaces.

Energy mimicry - The user is made up of or can transform their body completely into energy. A user's transformed form is anatomically identical to their normal form, aside of being made of energy

Energy teleportation - The user can stimulate teleportation via energy.

Energy independence - The user has an independence from energy, having no need to eat, drink, sleep

Invulnerability - The user possesses complete invulnerability to all forms of physical damage or harm, encompassing any and all damage types or magnitudes with being incapable of experiencing physical pain.

Intangibility - The user can move through solid objects and ignore most physical effects in their way

Invisibility - Users can render themselves unseen by the naked eye and become invisible in the visible spectrum.

Energy manipulation

Mechanical beings

Created by ingenious minds or ancient magic, mechanical creatures are marvels of artifice. Their intricate gears and circuits hum with purpose as they execute tasks with machine-like precision. Some serve as loyal guardians, others as relentless hunters, their metal frames impervious to most harm.

Adaptive reconfiguration - Reassemble their body into different shapes or forms (e.g., weapons, shields, tools).

Energy sfficiency - Draw power from any available energy source (sunlight, electricity, magic) to remain operational.

Self-repair - Automatically repair damaged parts using nearby materials or nanotechnology.

Data integration - Interface with machines or networks to gather information or manipulate systems.

Overclock mode - Temporarily enhance speed, strength, or precision by pushing their systems to maximum capacity.

Projectile launching - Fire mechanical parts or energy-based projectiles at targets.

Magnetic manipulation - The user can manipulate magnetism and magnetic fields.

Cosmic beings

Born in the cradle of stars, cosmic creatures are beings of celestial majesty and awe-inspiring power. Their forms shimmer with the light of distant galaxies, and their presence warps reality itself. Gravity bends to their will, and time itself falters in their presence.

Cosmic awareness - User is aware of and knows absolutely everything that happens on a universal scale including planets being destroyed, mortal threats and dangers, knowledge about the cosmos

Cosmic conversion - The user can absorb cosmic energy and convert it to other forms.

Cosmic embodiment - The user becomes a physical manifestation or personification of cosmic forces.

Cosmic warping - Users can use cosmic force/energy to warp/manipulate reality to various degrees.

Cosmic constructs - The user can turn cosmic energy into different forms and objects, ranging from simple shapes and images, to functional items

Gravity control

Cosmic manipulation

Names | Masterlist

This took hours to make, and I'm pretty sure this is one of the longest things i made

And i konda doubt people are gonna look at it, so if you did, thank you

Have a cookie 🍪

[namedr]

PROJECTILE LAUNCHER

[tyrranux64]

I Did Nothing Productive All Day...

If I had the money to fund my own fighting game....well, this wouldn't be my first pick but screw it I'm in a funk and I need something to fiddle with. If I were able to do this I'd like it to be a 2D fighter in a similar graphics engine to Dragon Ball FighterZ and Guilty Gear Strive. Technically a four button fighter (Light, Medium, Heavy, Dash) but with a fifth "Contract" button which would.....uhhh.....I dunno do some kind of faustian bargain mechanic attack, like the Infinity Stones from MVCInfinite but with even more broken utility and a health cost to balance it? Or fuck it, just have it be the tag attack button for a 2v2 mode. Dash would be a medium strength lunge attack going up to 10 feet.

Actually y'know what? Easy EX Moves at 6% of your health! Just hitting this button (and a single directional input) gives you easy access to otherwise hard to trigger EX Moves when you need it but at the cost of some health. Thing is that spent health is now treated as Provisional Damage, you'd be able to get it back if you manage to perform that same EX Move (and successfully hit with it) using the intended but difficult Meter Burn button input. Of course if you get hit before you do this you lose that spent health permanently. The "Contract" button would stop working the moment you hit 5% of a given round.

I'd have the combo system be KI 2013 to a T, as such it would have a combo breaker system that's actually worth a damn to the point you wouldn't really need a comeback mechanic, having a damage decay to prevent TOD Combo bullshit. Supers would be real time and implement a meter system like KI, two stocks max, at least one of a character's supers would require both bars. I'd of course have a regular NRS style method to use EX Moves, needing at least 50% of a single bar to use. If a comeback mechanic must be implemented I'd have it be a Fatal Blow that does up to 60% damage in one go but then disables your access to EX Moves, Supers and even the "Contract" button. _______________________________________________________ [LAUNCH ROSTER; At best this would more than likely be an indy project, expectations for a big roster would have to be significantly tempered. At best I could see it launching with a minimum of 8.]

FRISK (Was banished to Hell by cultists, now fights to escape this waking nightmare.) A pretty straight forward stance character, changing up normals by switching between the fast but weak Knife, the medium stat Baseball Bat and the strong but slow Axe. Specials and Supers would be the same across all three stances, even having 3 unique specials that allow for instant switching during combos. Would have an exclusive Spot Dodge like Videl, one that can be EX'ed leading into a counter attack. Finally, a secret 10 second super mode that sees Frisk suddenly gaining powers similar to Sans, replacing the spot dodge with an Ultra Instinct dodge and giving brief access to Ermac style command grabs.

CHARLIE (Seek to claim Frisk's soul in a bid to protect them from the rest of Hell.) We have SF6 Manon at home. A decent array of command grabs that see Charlie forcing the opponent into brief spurts of ballroom dancing or ballot. Would also have some short range fire zoning that go about mid range, more for applying pressure than outright projectile spamming. Would also have a "sticky grenade" mechanic similar to KI 2013 Cinder, costing some meter to plant a will-o-wisp (max of 1) that can be detonated to break through the opponent's block.

PAPYRUS (A defective Revenant that has befriended Frisk, the first real friend that he even had.) A character prone to "falling to pieces" much like Nadia Fortune and MK1 Havik, using detachable limbs as both bludgeoning objects and makeshift boomerang weapons. In addition he'd have access to magic "bone traps" that come off like variations of Terry Bogard's Power Wave and Shang Tsung's Ground Skull. Would even have a "Blue Attack" super that momentarily disables the opponent's ability to jump for at least 8 seconds.

VAGGIE (Charlie's wife, helping the princess in her efforts to save Frisk.) Pretty much a greatest hits compilation of Kitana, Mileena and Jade. To this end I'd have her adopt the use of a three sickle blade throwing glaive as both a melee weapon and boomerang projectile, saving her spear for hard hitting specials and supers.

UNDYNE (Hell Knight servant of Lilith Morningstar sent to acquire Frisk before anyone else.) A small vicious collection of command parries in merfolk form, even having the ability to reflect the opponent's projectiles right back to them. Would have a pretty straight forward spear toss and a few takes on MK1 Shang Tsung's Bed of Spikes. Would have an "Undying" mechanic similar to KI 2013 T.J.Combo's Last Breath.

ANGEL DUST (A porn star that needs that 666 Trillion bounty on Frisk's head for..."freedom"...) Pretty much a hyper sexualized version of VS Series Spiderman but with the added flourish of a pair of Chicago Typewriters. Would have the most easy to spam projectiles but with an ammo count mechanic to keep track off, projectiles fired cannot do chip damage to blocking opponents.

FLOWEY (A mysterious entity who has a vested interest in Frisk and those that pursue them.) Smallest character bar none reaching up to Frisk's leg in height. Would pretty much be Smash Bros Piranha Plant with the added utility of vine whipping attacks and "Friendliness Pellets" that can be guided in diagonal trick shots. Would also have a hidden 10 second "Omega Flowey" super mode that transforms them into a hideous monstrosity fastened to the ceiling.

ALASTOR (Seeking to control Charlie, he too goes after Frisk to use them as deal making leverage.) We have MK1 Quan-Chi at home, also a bit of MKX Shinnok. _______________________________________________________ [ARCADE MODE BOSSES]

ADAM (Seeks to use Frisk's soul to complete the "Seven Hearts Ceremony" which will give him dominion over both Heaven and Hell.) Proverbial Goro of the game. We have SC6 Azwel at home. His ego leaves him prone to taunting the player leaving him open to attack for brief moments. Is able to recover health but this also leaves him open to attack.

ASRIEL THE GOD OF HYPERDEATH (In desperation Adam makes a deal with Flowey, dooming the first man to become the new vessel for the very eldritch deity that those cultists worship. There is no Adam anymore, only Asriel Dreemurr.) Final Boss. Pretty much what would happen if GG Justice, MVC1 Onslaught and MVC3 Dark Phoenix hate fucked in a hateful threeway, producing an extremely hateful baby best described as Borderline SNK Boss Syndrome. Would be an absolute mistake to make them playable. _______________________________________________________ [ADDITIONAL ROSTER; Hopefully I'd be able to give these extra characters as free updates.]

ALPHYS (Quit her job at Vox Industries in protest of him using HER tech to try and kill a child! As such she befriends Frisk.) Pilots a mech that would make Tron Bonne jealous. Said mech having a similar fram to GG Potemkin, boasting a host of built in weapons and tricks similar to MVC1 War Machine and Injustice Lex Luthor.

CHERRI BOMB (Angel Dust's ride or die best friend, helping him to acquire that 666 Trillion Bounty.) Pretty much what would happen if Cyrax's infamous Bomb was hit with gamma radiation and mutated into a whole move set onto itself. Normals involve extensive use of a crowbar.

SUSIE (Yet another in an ever increasing lists of demons pining for that 666 Trillion Bounty.) A towering beast with a battle axe, a few rudimentary magic spells and enough mass to and muscle to turn SF3 Hugo into a chew toy.

HUSK (The Radio Demon's slave sent to hinder Charlie and Vaggie at every turn possible.) Basically what would happen if VS. Series Wolverine suddenly grew wings giving him air combo supremacy. Might have access to a "Booze" mechanic that gives him brief bursts of strength and aggression at the cost of sluggish controls.

BURGERPANTS (A disgruntled fast food employee that sees the 666 Trillion bounty as a retirement fund there for the taking.) Has gone completely postal, using the pump action shotgun he got his hands on as both melee weapon and projectile launching device, even uses it to do blast propelled air dashes and double jumps. Has a whole back pack of other severe abuses of the second amendment.

STOLAS (An old friend of the Morningstar family, was asked to keep tabs on Charlie making sure she doesn't go rogue.) We have Smash Bros Ganondorf at home (albeit significantly faster). Borrows a few tricks from the KI 2013 Hisako playbook. Many of his more devastating moves emulate Dracula from the Castlevania series.

METTATON EX (Seeks the 666 Trillion bounty to revitalize his currently floundering fast food chain.) Jojo Poses, Jojo Poses Everywhere. Majority of normals would have heavy emphasis on kicking much like Eddie Gordo and Han Juri, saving his robotic arms for the Heavy button and certain hook shot specials. Would also get a 10 second "Mettaton NEO" super mode gaining air dashes and more hard hitting projectile spam.

LUCIFER (The King of Hell, forced to step onto the streets upon hearing news that his daughter Charlie is "misbehaving"...) Borderline MVC3 Vergil tempered by joke character quirks, would probably be the first to get banned from tournament play. _______________________________________________________ [POSSIBLE GUEST CHARACTERS; Where the real money is made. Would not be even remotely possible to offer these as free updates. Also I'd just bunch them all into a single slot similar to how the DLC was handled in MK9, requiring you to hit down additional times to cycle through the available characters.]

V1 (Ultrakill) (Frisk activated this "forbidden robot" to escape the V's, not fully knowing just what it was they unleashed....) An absolute monster twisting the very concept of the "shoto fighter" into a display of violence and brutality that would make even Akuma wince. I would also have V1 utilize a nasty command grab or two that drains blood from the opponent to heal itself.

POMNI (Amazing Digital Circus) (A client of the Hazbin Hotel, has become fiercely loyal to Charlie for being given house and home.) If DBF Ginyu was shorter and had crippling anxiety, summoning Ratha, Zooble and Jax for an array of MK1 Kameo style assists. On her own she would have "game glitches" that let her teleport relentlessly.

PEPPINO (Pizza Tower) (Papyrus ordered a pizza for Frisk, now this madman is hellbent on delivering said pizza in 30 minutes or less.) Would be grapple and rushdown god devoid of projectiles and other such extraneous abilities, human combat in its most purest form.

ROXY THE WOLF (FNAF Security Breach) (A pizzaria animatronic that Papyrus reprogrammed to hinder the Radio Demon.) We have GG Ino at home. Would also have a "Damaged State" mechanic gaining new more monstrous specials the more damage she takes during the match.

JUDGEMENT (Helltaker) (One of the feared Furies sent to quell the sudden escalation of chaos.) We have MKX Takeda at home REVENGEANCE!!! Would have masochist abilities to hurt herself gaining drastic boosts in strength and speed for brief moments (losing her ability to do combos for the duration).

SPAWN (Allies himself with Frisk out of pure spite for both the Overlords of Hell and the Morningstar Family.) Look I know the legal hoops and budget draining fees it would take to get this guy but just let me dream dammit! I'd have him be the best that MK11 Spawn had to offer with all the bad fat trimmed out, given a good helping of SF4 Oni to give him an added sense of "last person to fuck with".

[satoshi-mochida]

NanoApostle coming to PS5, Xbox Series, PS4, and Xbox One on April 24 - Gematsu

Publisher PQube and developer 18Light Game will release PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, PlayStation 4, and Xbox One versions of dark science-fiction boss rush action game NanoApostle on April 24, the companies announced.

NanoApostle first launched for Switch and PC via Steam on September 12, 2024.

Here is an overview of the game, via its Steam page:

About

NanoApostle is a dark science-fiction boss rush action game featuring intense reaction-based combat and the unique “Destruction Point” system. Play as Anita, a child augmented with lethal nanomachines, as she battles against twisted cybernetic experiments to escape a top-secret facility. Deep within the bowels of a shadowy research facility, Anita, a girl birthed from experimental procedures, is implanted with the sentient nanomechanical entity known as “Apostle.” Working together with her nanite allies Anita must defeat a series of dangerous prototype bio-weapons as she searches for a way to break free from her nightmarish prison.

Key Features

Battle Against Merciless Adversaries – Face axe-wielding mechs, fire-spewing behemoths, and psychokinetic terrors, in vicious encounters culminating in the brutal execution of your foes.

Evolving Multi-Stage Battles – When threatened, the destructive bio-weapons feature a failsafe causing them to become more ferocious, and often warping environments to enhance their onslaught.

More Than a Weapon – The symbiotic relationship between Anita and Apostle grants her numerous abilities such as dodge, parry, a series of slashing attacks, and a deadly Projectile.

Master the Destruction Point System – Utilize Apostle’s nanites to identify structural weaknesses known as “Destruction Points,” and exploit your opponent’s vulnerabilities to land devastating blows.

Experiment With Skills – Earn skill points through combat and challenge stages. Whether you favor a tactical or reckless approach, create unique skill combinations that resonate with your style.

Take on the Challenge System – Earn skill points by completing various tasks from defeating hordes of minions to demonstrating dexterity in the parkour challenges.

Watch a new trailer below.

PlayStation and Xbox Release Date Trailer

[ninjacat1515]

Bloodcraft: Dragons

Dragons dwell in Overworld and the End. In Overworld they prefer to stick to remote and sparsely populated areas, and are rarely seen by humans. They are highly intelligent and want little to do with humans or Villagers. Some have agreements with Illagers and have even fought alongside them from time to time.

Shed dragon skin is a popular armor to use for its resistance to heat and projectiles. Dragon skin butchered right off of one is the most effective but also the most difficult to obtain. A dragon dying of natural causes isn't willingly surrendered for use by the others unless a major trade is conducted either.

Most dragons range from 40-60ft in length and have a more efficient way of breathing that's similar to a bird, as well as massive hearts. They launch into the air using all four legs, and while not the swiftest creatures in the sky they can reach high altitudes.

Dragons can thrive in a desert even when summer is at its most brutal and their immune systems benefit from strong sun exposure. The ones who live in the End enjoy similar benefits from the Void itself, or from the flowing purple and blue lava that heats the dimension.

The End also produces larger specimens due to them being in such close proximity to the Void, and a particularly fabled lineage of beasts here can surpass 100ft or more.

[collapsedsquid]

Until recently, the Navy didn’t feel much need for speed in rearming its biggest missile-firing warships. They only occasionally launched large numbers of Tomahawk cruise missiles or other pricey projectiles. Now, Pentagon strategists worry that if fighting broke out in the western Pacific -- potentially 5000 miles (8000km) from a secure Navy base -- destroyers, cruisers and other big warships would run out of vital ammunition within days, or maybe hours. Seeking to plug that supply gap, Del Toro tasked commanders and engineers with finding ways to reload the fleet’s launch systems at remote ports or even on the high seas. Otherwise, US ships might need to sail back to bases in Hawaii or California to do so -- putting them out of action for weeks.

What on earth has the US Navy been doing, Elon Musk needs to fix this rightaway

[demifiendrsa]

Street Fighter 6 - Elena Gameplay Trailer

Japanese version

Street Fighter 6 DLC character Elena will launch on June 5, 2025.

Screenshots and artwork of Elena

Character overview

As a returning fan favorite of the series, players’ spirits will rise for Elena as she brings her unique moveset inspired by capoeira, a Brazilian martial art and dance form that blends martial arts, dance, music and acrobatics combined with the modern touches of Street Fighter 6 mechanics. Elena also brings a brand new stage, Reniala Remains, which showcases the plains of Africa at night as wildlife roam in the background, all lit by the glowing moon above. Players will need to keep up with Elena as she dances across all three game modes including World Tour, Fighting Ground, and Battle Hub.

The pure-spirited Elena showcases her kicker moves with two colorful Outfits. Outfit 1 is themed around her newest look, creating a fresh yet familiar style that emphasizes both her grace and physique, while Outfit 2 is an ode to her iconic look in Street Fighter III: New Generation and Ultra Street Fighter IV. Outfit 2 can be acquired by maxing out your bond with her in World Tour or via Fighter Coins.

As seen in the trailer, Elena’s moveset uses her long legs and unpredictable movements to keep her prey in check, including:

Rhino Horn – A series of quick, forward-moving kicks that send the opponent flying back

Scratch Wheel – Known as Elena’s “dragon-punch,” this move is useful for anti-airs or for keeping opponents away

Lynx Song – Where things get wild, Elena spins forward close to the ground while invincible to projectiles and can then use four different techniques out of it, such as Leopard Snap, Harvest Circle, Mallet Smash or Lynx Whirl.

**Leopard Snap – A long-reaching attack useful for closing distances

**Harvest Circle -: A kick that launches opponents in the air and maintains invincibility to projectiles

**Mallet Smash – An overhead kick that can buffalow-profile

**Lynx Whirl – Elena performs an additional spin to extend Lynx Song. If the aforementioned Leopard Snap, Harvest Circle, or Mallet Smash are performed after Lynx Whirl, their properties are “boosted!”

Spinning Scythe – As seen in previous iterations, perform a series of spinning kicks that can be canceled and followed up with Leopard Snap, Harvest Circle, Mallet Smash, and Lynx Whirl, to keep up the pressure on her opponents

Moon Glider – An evasive technique where Elena steps back before performing a vertical spinning kick that sends the opponent in the air

Meteor Volley – Elena’s Level 1 Super Art that operates as an effective anti-air move and also allows for a follow-up attack.

Revival Dance – Elena’s Level 2 Super Art where she launches forward with a flurry of kicks and is invincible to all attacks on start-up. If you hold the down button, rather than dealing extra damage, Elena will do her trademark healing!

Song of the Grasslands – Elena’s Level 3 Super Art brings the power of nature to the fight as she delivers kicks with the power of the skies and plains!

Finally, a major balance patch will come to Street Fighter 6 when Elena launches, introducing changes for all of the previous 25 characters along with some broader system changes as well. Keep an eye out for the detailed patch notes as we head toward Elena’s launch!