#richard fraser

[river-sam2]

Christmas of Aquanauts.

-Marineville, mid-December.

Troy Tempest the Captain of Stingray, ex-Captain Bradley Holden and ex-WASP oceanographer Gordon Tracy were drank in the corner of the Pub.

“You should be very grateful to Phones.”

Brad, who was drunk and a bit preachy, turned his attention to Troy.

Troy shrugged and looked Gordon as he asked help him.

“Certainly, it's probably thanks to him that those lovely ladies didn’t get mad at you.”

Gordon smiled mischievously.

“Come on , you guys are sooo merciless for me.”

Troy gestured as he surrendered to them, and reached for the fried fish.

“Haha, I gonna get water.”

Gordon got off the chair.

“Hey, I still not drank so much.”

Brad laughed cheerfully.

------

-Meanwhile in the control tower…

“achoo…hey, anybody taking about me?”

Phones sneezed, and Sub-Lieutenant Fisher who was playing chess by himself, jumped his shoulders in shock.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope that person is not Titan.”

Fisher said, and he looked back to chess board.

“Yeah…I don‘t wanna see they found a rockabilly band and held the countdown concert in here.”

Phones sighed.

------

“Christmas is almost here.”

Gordon smiled happily.

They got off the pub and walking to Residential area. As they approached there, Christmas lights were decorated everywhere.

“By the way, does Spectrum also celebrate Christmas?”

Nobody knows Brad joined Spectrum, except few people including Troy and Gordon.

“Nah…our boss is very strict man. I will work that day, and hope I could eat Christmas cake.”

-Actually, Colonel White got angry because of troublesome guys in his organization including Brad aka Captain grey. But this is another story-

“Gordon, will you spent Christmas holiday with your families?”

Troy asked.

“Yes, I‘m looking forward to our family get together.”

“That‘s good! I hope you will enjoy. ”

“Thank you.”

“I hope The Aquaphibians will enjoying Christmas under the sea and we will spent peacefully this holiday.”

When Troy said that, Brad and Gordon smiled, because they remembered Troy‘s episode about he and Barry Byrne.

-----

-Spectrum Control Center.

“Oh….I wish I could join them...”

ex-WASP Seymour Griffiths as Lieutenant Green sighed in front of the computer.

“Anything fun?”

Captain Magenta came into the room just a little faster, it looks like he is an impatient man.

“Hi! Captain grey went our old workplace and he drank with friends after his job.”

“That��s too bad. However, I will in trouble if both of you get out of here, because you guys are relatively sane in this organization…”

The impatient Irishman scanned his ID, logged into the control room computer, and set up various apps 1.5 times faster than he could speak.

“You forgot Captain Ochre.”

“WHAT?”

Magenta opened his eyes and shook his head, as if to tell Green not to say that stupid thing.

“What's so sane about the craziest Guy in this organization? and I should educate him with Captain Scarlet‘s Opening Sequence.”

“What are you talking about?”

“No, forget it.”

Magenta looks cursing about Ochre, but Green smiled and took over the business because in fact, he understood Magenta trusts him and Ochre.

“You are going to off-duty aren‘t you.”

“Yes.”

“So you should go to the dining hall and you will found something you like.”

Magenta grinned.

“Ohhh, I wonder what's there…Bye, Captain.”

-----

Later…

[hebuiltfive]

Ring A Ring O’ Roses - Chapter Two: The Trail

As requested by @mariashades this is the second part of the Captain Ochre private detective AU! I have more ideas for the story as a whole so this probably won’t be the last either!

First part can be found here!

Following their failed lead in New York, Richard returns to the drawing board. Meanwhile, Paul seeks refuge up north in the only place he can currently trust.

———————————————

Being back at Square One was never an avenue any detective wanted to return to. After days of constant research, of calls made and opportunities struck, for it to have been pointless felt like nothing more than a waste of precious time.

The tiny, rented office space that sat on the East River, overlooking Roosevelt Island, indicated to Fraser, more so than anyone else, how much he needed to solve this case. It was more than just a case of justice and truth, it was the continuation of his business that he’d built up from the ground. For so long, Richard had convinced himself that this was all he had; no qualifications save the ones he achieved in the Academy, no experience beyond police grunt work that he could now never return to regardless of what he wanted. It was this gig, or… what?

More over, he had promised Patrick his help. If they couldn’t solve this case, all of that would have been for naught and Patrick would be sentenced to a lifetime in prison for something he was already beginning to atone for. Richard could see it in his protege’s work ethic, in the way he regarded himself since working alongside Fraser and for the good of the community at large. If Richard failed this, he would be doing a disservice to more than Metcalfe’s family, than himself. He’d be condemning a man who was trying to right his wrongs, and that seemed cruel.

He lent back on his swivel chair. The old seat creaked and bent as he stretched. Up above, dark clouds were rolling in, promising a shower of rainfall within the hour. Richard flicked his wrist to check the time. It was almost coming up to half-past four. Maybe it was time to call it a day.

“Patrick!” He called through to the backrooms where he had set up a small work area for his new employee. “You still awake back there?”

Beckoned through, Patrick appeared in the doorway. In his hands, he held two sheets of paper and, as he slowly strolled over to Richard’s desk, his eyes did not lift from whatever secrets they held.

He really is trying, thought Fraser. It was a shame this case was soon to be a bust.

“Not much more we can do today. Get on home before the rain sets in and be back here tomorrow at nine. We’ll try and pick up a lead if we can.”

Patrick did not say a word or move an inch, however.

Richard tilted his head. “Donaghue? You in there?”

“Hm?”

His eyes lifted to meet his boss’s. Fraser could see the dark circles forming under the man’s eyes. It didn’t help to quell the rising guilt he felt of failing him.

“I said you can go home and we and try and pick up more leads tomorrow morning. What’s got you so interested, anyway?”

In answer, Patrick merely handed Richard the two sheets of paper. He scanned them quickly. They were both grainy CCTV photographs; one was a from a station terminus, Richard guessed Penn Station judging by the architecture; the other was from a street camera in a neighbourhood he was less familiar with.

“What are these?”

“Our next lead.” Patrick’s tiredness dulled his excitement, but Richard could still sense it.

He laid the images across the sheets that covered his desk and pointed to the figure that featured in both captures. “Metcalfe?”

Patrick nodded. “It’s grainy, but I think that’s our guy. He changes his hooded jacket between shots but the height, the cautiously looking over his shoulder, the shoes… I think it’s him.”

“Where was this second one taken?”

“Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts.”

Richard jerked his head up from the photos to offer him a quizzical look.

Donaghue merely nodded in agreement. “Our friend’s taken quite the journey up north.”

“The question, I guess, is why.”

“Does the expenses extend to taking the train, or are we road-tripping, because if its the latter, I’m calling shotgun and control of the playlist.”

Richard suppressed a grin. “We can take the train. Perhaps if we follow in Metcalfe’s footsteps we can get a more detailed plan of what he might be up to.”

“Should we inform his parents?”

“Not yet, not until we’re sure.”

“And the other ‘worried’ party? What about them?”

Although Richard had wished he’d been able to conveniently forget about the added governmental pressure to find their former employee, he had unfortunately been unable to.

He shook his head. “Same rule applies. Besides, the family were the one who officially hired us. The other party don’t get to know anything until they do.”

Patrick pursed his lips, once again nodding his agreement.

“I’ll book us some tickets for tomorrow morning.” Richard continued. “Think you can get to Penn Station for around seven? I’ll text you the details.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Get home and get some rest.”

He didn’t need to tell Patrick a fourth time. His protege briefly disappeared back into his make-shift office to retrieve his items before returning into the main room. He approached the door to leave.

“Oh, and Donaghue? If this had been a road-trip, you do know you can’t call shotgun and request DJ permissions, right?”

Partick smirked. “It was worth a shot. Don’t stay here too late. I doubt Metcalfe will be moving on quite so quickly.”

“I won’t. I promise. See you tomorrow.”

Once the door clicked closed and Patrick was well on his way out of the building, Richard unlocked the lower drawer to his desk. From within, he retrieved a burner phone. It only had one number on it. He dialled.

“I’ve found him. Boston. Back Bay East.”

———————————————

Paul went to the one person — the only person left — that he knew he could trust.

The journey had been rough. Two trains up north and a multitude of guards and police presence to dodge. Being a wanted man, by the government no less, had that unfortunate effect, but he managed to make his way up to Boston as night began to fall.

Faking his own death back in the New York motel had been no easy feat. Paul knew the scene was nowhere near as believable as it could have been, and should the cops look too hard they’d realise that in a heartbeat. He had little time, however, and now could only hope that they wouldn’t work out the obvious until he was long gone.

He lacked sleep. Paul could feel his bones growing weary, his muscles growing tired, but he had to keep moving. If he stopped, even for a few hours, he could risk being identified and caught. That was not an option. He was safe nowhere, not until he reached Adam.

In any other circumstance, Paul would have called ahead, but he knew the Spectrum department would be able to monitor such calls, should they wish. In the recent past, it had been him on the other end of those tracking devices, seeking a man who, like himself, should have been long since dead. On the journey up to Boston, Paul wondered whether there was any way of finding Turner. Given his own predicament, and the lengths he’d been through to stay off the grid, he doubted it.

The taxi he had taken from the station pulled up outside the address Paul had given to the driver. He was relieved he hadn’t been caught out by the man and taken to the nearest police station instead. Paying with cash to avoid leaving a digital trail, he thanked the driver before hopping out of the back door and dashing across the street to Adam’s apartment building.

His knuckles rapped harshly on the door.

“Adam? Adam, it’s me. It’s Paul. Are you there? Adam, open up!”

He had never been so relieved to hear the sound of a door unlocking before. Paul burst through the moment it had opened, knocking the blonde out of the way before Adam could finish his greeting.

“Hey, Paul, what’s— Hey! Careful!”

Paul didn’t listen. “Are you alone?” He asked, directly making a beeline to the windows. Any blinds that were still up were quickly lowered.

His friend locked the front door before following him through to the living room. “Paul, what’s going on?”

Paul allowed himself to take a breather, his paranoia subsiding for the time being. “I need a place to lay low.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

It was now that he noticed his friend was dressed in blue loungewear, suggesting to Paul that he was getting ready to turn in for the evening. How his heart ached with guilt that he was going to ruin that plan.

“I made a really bad mistake, Adam. A really bad mistake. I don’t know if I can fix it.”

[avengedbiologist]

Redraw of that dramatic moment between Ochre and Blue ✌️

[erstwhile-punk-guerito]

[gatutor]

Richard Fraser-Evelyn Ankers "The fatal witness" 1945, de Lesley Selander.

[fourorfivemovements]

Films Watched in 2023: 94. Bedlam (1946) - Dir. Mark Robson

[ulrichgebert]

Seine Affairen mit all den schönen Frauen, die ihm scharenweise verfallen, nutzt der Halunke und Tunichtgut Bel Ami nur, um sich auf der Karriereleiter hinaufzubewegen. Natürlich entgeht er seiner gerechten Strafe nicht, interessanterweise allerdings nur in der Hollywoodvariante, nicht in Maupassants berühmten Roman, habe ich jetzt herausgefunden. Läuft im Rahmen der stark vernachlässigten immerwährenden George-Sanders-Wochen und Angela-Lansbury-Wertschätzung-Maßnahmen.

[thekenobee]

Sharpe + Incorrect Quotes (Part 6)

[river-sam2]

Happy Spectrum Halloween🎃👻◎◎

Their Costumes references:

[thewanderingace]

Outlander 7x15

[leggerezza-dell-essere]

Il problema non è di inventare lo spazio, ancor meno di reinventarlo (…), ma di interrogarlo, o, più semplicemente, di leggerlo (…)”

George Perec, 1974.

_____Richard Fraser

[theoutlanderevangelist]

7x15 “WRITTEN IN MY OWN HEART’S BLOOD”

[thekenobee]

Sharpe + Text Post (Part 24)

[river-sam2]

A HAPPY NEW YEAR🎉

Have a nice holiday!

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 7 EPISODE 02 || THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

THE SKY WAS A FLAT, LEADEN COLOR, threatening rain, and the wind gusted through the palmettos, rattling the leaves like sabers. Down in the depths of the tidal forest, the four stones loomed beside the creek. “I am the wife of the laird of Balnain,” Brianna whispered, next to me. “The faeries have stolen me over again.” She was white to the lips, Amanda clutched close to her breast. We had made our farewells—we had been saying farewell, I thought, since the day I pressed the stethoscope to Mandy’s heart. But Brianna turned and flung herself—baby and all—at Jamie, who pressed her so tight against his heart, I thought one of them must break. Then she was flying at me, a cloud of cloak and loosened hair, and her face was cold against mine, her tears and mine mingling on my skin. “I love you, Mama! I love you!” she said in desperation, then turned and, without looking back, began to walk the pattern Donner had described, quietly chanting under her breath. A circle right, between two stones, a circle left, and back through the center—and then to the left of the largest stone. I had been expecting it; when she began to walk the pattern, I had run away from the stones, stopping at what I thought a safe distance. It wasn’t. The sound of them—a roar, this time, instead of a shriek—thundered through me, stopping my breath and nearly my heart. Pain froze in a band round my chest and I dropped to my knees, swaying and helpless. They were gone. I could see Jamie and Roger running to check—terrified of finding bodies, at once desolate and elated to find none. I couldn’t see well—my vision swam, flickering in and out—but didn’t need to. I knew they were gone, from the hole in my heart. “TWO DOWN,” Roger whispered. His voice was no more than a faint rasp, and he cleared his throat, hard. “Jeremiah.” He looked down at Jem, who blinked and sniffed, and drew himself up tall at the sound of his formal name. “Ye ken what we’re about now, aye?” Jemmy nodded, though he flicked a scared glance toward the towering stone where his mother and his baby sister had just vanished. He swallowed hard, and wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Well, then.” Roger reached out a hand and rested it gently on Jemmy’s head. “Know this, mo mac—I shall love ye all my life, and never forget ye. But this is a terrible thing we’re doing, and ye need not come with me. Ye can stay with your grandda and grannie Claire; it will be all right.” “Won’t I—won’t I see Mama again?” Jemmy’s eyes were huge, and he couldn’t keep from looking at the stone. “I don’t know,” Roger said, and I could see the tears he was fighting himself, and hear them in his thickened voice. He didn’t know whether he would ever see Brianna again himself, or baby Mandy. “Probably . . . probably not.” Jamie looked down at Jem, who was clinging to his hand, looking back and forth between father and grandfather, confusion, fright, and longing in his face. “If one day, a bhailach,” Jamie said conversationally, “ye should meet a verra large mouse named Michael—ye’ll tell him your grandsire sends his regards.” He opened his hand, then, letting go, and nodded toward Roger. Jem stood staring for a moment, then dug in his feet and sprinted toward Roger, sand spurting from under his shoes. He leaped into his father’s arms, clutching him around the neck, and with a final glance backward, Roger turned and stepped behind the stone, and the inside of my head exploded in fire. Unimaginable time later, I came slowly back, coming down from the clouds in fragments, like hailstones. And found myself lying with my head in Jamie’s lap. And heard him saying softly, to himself or to me,

“For your sake, I will continue—though for mine alone . . . I would not.”

120 IF ONLY FOR MYSELF ~ A BREATH OF SNOW AND ASHES

[thewanderingace]

Outlander 7x16