#roller shutter door emergency call out
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Roller Shutter Door Emergency Call Out - Able Door Services
Your commercial shutters play a crucial role in safeguarding your business. They shield you from the elements, enhance privacy, and protect your property. But what happens when they start showing signs of wear and tear?
Ignoring issues can lead to costly repairs down the line. Recognizing when it’s time for emergency shutter repairs is essential for maintaining protection and functionality. Here are some key indicators that should prompt immediate action to avoid further complications.
Visible Physical Damage - Cracks, dents, or broken slats compromising protection.
Visible physical damage to your shutters can be alarming. Cracks, dents, or broken slats are not just cosmetic issues; they compromise the strength of your business.
When a commercial shutter is damaged, it becomes an easy target for intruders. A simple crack can provide access points that were once secure. It’s crucial to assess the integrity of your shutters regularly.
Beyond protection concerns, these damages can also lead to further deterioration. Weather elements may worsen cracks and breaks if left unattended. This could result in more extensive repairs down the line.
If you spot any visible damage on your shutters, taking immediate action is vital. Emergency roller shutter repairs should be prioritised as soon as possible to restore safety and functionality while preventing additional costs later on.
Difficulty in Opening or Closing - Struggling to operate shutters signals a mechanical issue.
When your shutters refuse to open or close smoothly, it’s more than just an annoyance. This struggle often points to a mechanical issue that needs immediate attention.
Dirt and debris can accumulate in the tracks, leading to friction. Over time, this buildup makes operation tougher. Regular cleaning is essential for smooth functioning.
Another common culprit could be worn-out components like hinges or springs. These parts are crucial for ease of movement. If they're damaged, they not only hinder performance but can lead to further complications.
Ignoring these warning signs might escalate into significant repair costs later on. It's best not to wait until you’re completely locked out or unable to secure your space adequately. Keeping a keen eye on how well your shutters operate can prevent minor irritations from turning into major emergencies requiring emergency shutter repairs.
Ignoring Maintenance and Repairs - How delayed action can turn minor issues into emergencies.
Regular maintenance of your shutters is crucial to prevent minor issues from escalating into significant emergencies. Many business owners often overlook small problems, thinking they can wait for a more convenient time to address them. However, what starts as a slight crack or stiffness in the operation can quickly develop into a much larger issue.
Ignoring these signs not only compromises the functionality of your shutters but also poses protection risks. For instance, if you delay necessary repairs on damaged slats, it could lead to complete failure when you need them most—like during a storm or break-in attempt.
Emergency shutter repairs can be costly and disruptive. By taking care of minor repairs promptly, you save yourself from potential emergencies down the line. A little proactive attention goes a long way in maintaining both safety and peace of mind for your business. Ensure you regularly inspect and maintain your shutters for any signs of wear and tear. This simple habit will protect not just your investment but also enhance the overall safety of your property against unforeseen events requiring emergency roller shutter repairs later on.
Call Able Door Services for Immediate Shutter Repairs
If you've noticed any of these warning signs, don't wait until it's too late. Damaged or malfunctioning shutters can compromise your security and safety, leading to costly repairs or even potential hazards. Able Door Services specializes in fast, reliable emergency shutter repairs to keep your property protected and your peace of mind intact.
Our expert team is available to assess and fix any issues, ensuring your shutters are back in top condition in no time. Contact Able Door Services today for prompt, professional repairs you can trust!
#emergency shutter repairs#emergency roller shutter repairs#roller shutter emergency call out#roller shutter door emergency call out#emergency roller door repair#emergency shutter service#steel door rollers#commercial fire shutters#fire rated shutters#fire roller shutter#fire shutter installation
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Could you write a one shot where there is a really bad storm hitting Seattle. Maya and Carina are stuck at the hospital and the fire station, and are trying but unsuccessful at reaching Reader. So they are both worried out of their minds. Then Maya has to go out on a call and find it was R who wrecked their car trying to get home before the storm hit. (Could be severe or non-severe injuries) R goes to the hospital with Maya in the aid car and Carina joins them in the ER.
Authors note: I heard the song "What the water gave me - Florence + The Machine" while writing this story. I would advise you to listen to the song as well while reading through this story to get the feel of a real Station 19 rescue mission like in the series. Of course it's not a must! ♥
ᕚ---ᕘ
The sky over Seattle steadily darkened as pitch-black thunderclouds rolled in like a tidal wave. The wind began to howl as if playing its own somber tune, rushing restlessly through the skyscrapers of the city. Streets were quickly emptied as people rushed home for shelter. The trees bent under the force of the storm as if begging for mercy, but the storm was relentless. It thundered as if Zeus himself wanted to keep the crowds in their place while the rain fell in thick, large drops and threatened to drown Seattle. The sound of the wind, the falling of the rain and the thunder symphoned in a unique melody and conveyed a frightening atmosphere.
The telephones of the active fire brigade beeped in unison, a warning of the approaching storm that came in way too late. The tough captain of the fire department swallowed hard as she could not reach you, who worked just a few minutes away from her. But you did not answer, the connection was already disrupted, appearing to be off. "She wanted to be here fifteen minutes ago, Carina," both her and the brunette's worries grew with every minute through the phone as they imagined the worst possible scenarios without having any sign of life from you.
"Calm down, Bambina. There is probably total chaos on the streets. Fallen trees, flooding. Maybe she is just stuck in a traffic jam or an emergency came in."
The fire station was flooded with red alarm lights, while the walls shook from violent gusts of wind, preventing the young blonde from speaking further. Raindrops pelted against the roller shutter door, which opened more with every second, allowing the lightning strikes to break through their vision. -Fire engines 19 and 23. Ambulance 19 to Cedar Road Lane 6. Car struck by tree, person seriously injured and trapped.-
The firefighters rushed around, donning their suits and gear before grabbing their helmets. Like-minded, they rushed to the waiting vehicles, only Maya stopped briefly. „Please let me know if you hear anything from her. Stai attenta, bambina!" (Be careful, bambina!). She nodded, knowing that Carina could not see the gesture and hung up before hopping into the squad cars and starting the sirens. Pressing the accelerator, they raced through the whirlwind around them, trying to avoid the tree branches as much as possible.
Lightning flashed across the dangerous-looking sky, and thunder rolled at the same time like an angry demon. Maya clung to the steering wheel as she tried to keep her eyes on the wet, blurry road. They made their way through the flooded streets, branches flying through the air and trash cans tipping over and spilling across the sidewalk.
It was as if the world around her was collapsing in a chaotic dance of wind and water. "Listen guys, I know you want to help the person in the car, but first and foremost, think about your health and your life," the storm roared so loudly that it seemed like it wanted to tear the entire city apart and hardly anyone understood what the captain was saying over the radio. "This is one of the worst storms in years, a state of emergency has been declared and normally no one should be on the roads, so it is a mystery to me why anyone would be so dumb to be driving,"
Her team was clearly tense, the radios crackling in their ears, but they nodded to the captain as confirmation that they had understood the message. Maya did not want to lose any man or woman in her group to the storm. "We are approaching the scene of the accident. Be ready for anything, people. We can do this!" she said calmly and encouragingly while the fire engine´s sirens blared through the dark night.
When the team from Station 19 arrived at the scene of the accident, they were confronted with a dark and serious scene. The car is crammed in by a huge tree and is badly deformed, the hood of which is completely smashed and dented while some branches have pierced through the windshield and turned the interior of the vehicle into a field of rubble.
The fire team jumped out of the emergency vehicles and fought through the wind and rain to reach the car. But the captain remains rooted to the spot in front of the stern of the wreck, looking absentmindedly at the license plate, which was hanging askew. "Y/n.. IT IS Y/N!" she shouted unhindered amid the raging and deafening thunder and her team stopped their tasks in shock, Andy and Gibson focusing their gaze from the thick tree over to the woman in the driver's seat, who Warren was already trying to find vital signs on.
Maya lunged forward, her heart pounding with worry. Her helmet was almost blown away by the wind as she stepped closer, the flashlight shaking in her hand as she shone the light through the shattered window. Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she recognized the familiar features amid the devastation. She was confirmed that she did not have a number twist on the license plate, but that it really was you. Seriously injured and trapped in the car. “Y/n!” she cried, her voice filled with a terror she had never known before. Maya knew she had to stay calm now, that she had to be the professional captain, but her heart was screaming with fear and worry.
The other members of the fire department worked quickly and precisely. "Dean, Montgomery. Grab the hydraulic cutters! We need to get her out of here as quickly as possible. Her vital signs are at risk of plummeting!" shouted Warren. They used cutting tools to fight against the metal of the car on the passenger side and the resistance of the tree while Maya knelt next to the wreckage and held your hand, which was probably thrown out of the broken window after the impact and was now lying on the scratched paint of the outer door. "It looks bad in there! Be careful not to hurt her any further, approach carefully!"
Your eyes were dazed with pain and fear, but you were breathing, albeit weakly. Hearing her voice, you seemed to find some peace for a moment, your dull eyes glued to hers. Desperately wanting to say something, you opened your mouth from which blood began to ooze, but your crushed and injured lungs did not even let in air.
"Hold on, darling. Do not say anything, I am here. We will get you out of there, I promise." The blonde whispered, her voice firm to reassure you even as her own thoughts were caught in a chaos of worry and despair. The minutes stretched endlessly as her team struggled to bend the metal and free their captain's fiancée. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the metal gave way. Using their combined strength, Vic and Warren pulled you from the wreckage, carefully, yet as quickly as possible. As soon as they freed you, they carried you to the ambulance. Maya followed them, never taking her eyes off you. Your condition was serious, but you were still clinging to life. "Carina is coming. She is going to be at the hospital, she will be by your side the second you get there. But you have to fight now, okay? Fight for us."
The rain continued to beat down on you, the storm was still raging, but in the midst of this darkness and chaos there was a glimmer of hope- you were saved, and she would do anything now to help you fight through this storm. But it was hard to keep positive thoughts as the storm continued to sing its destructive song. She closed her eyes tightly as she rode in the ambulance and prayed, with your bloodstained hand in hers, that the next morning would bring a certain light to your health.
#maya x carina#carina x maya#carina deluca#carina deluca x you#carina deluca x reader#carina deluca x y/n#carina deluca x maya bishop#carina deluca fanfiction#carina deluca fiction#carina deluca fic#carina deluca fanfic#carina deluca imagine#carina deluca imagines#carina deluca oneshot#carina deluca one shot#maya bishop x carina deluca#maya bishop x you#maya bishop x reader#maya bishop x y/n#maya bishop fanfiction#maya bishop fiction#maya bishop fic#maya bishop fanfic#maya bishop oneshot#maya bishop one shot#maya bishop imagine#maya bishop imagines#station 19#station 19 fanfic#station 19 fanfiction
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Automatic Parking Barrier Gate Repair And Services By The Experts
Do you own automatic parking gate or other sorts of gates, which are malfunctioned? If yes, then you must be connected with the professionals who are always there to suggest you the right things.
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Just connect to the suggested source and you will find quick repairs and emergency call outs that will solve all your issues. These professionals are available and are ready to help you with bespoke shutter maintenance contract designed to provide you with cost-effective services. Get the professional engineers who will love to care, provide great service, and repair any type of door or barrier system, including traditional roller shutters to the automatic one, sectional overheads, and many more others.
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You just name what you want and these professionals offer door systems service exactly in the same manner you want. So, if you require professionals to carry out work on the barriers at your worksite, you must go with the mentioned website and your A-Z problems will get solved. These professionals will surprise you by their services and you will find them a perfect solution for repair and maintenance work.
So, are you ready to deal with the experts? You can find out more details about the professionals by visiting to the suggested website. Just visit there and the professionals will be there to assist you with any of your problems. Get all the details and secure your property by having great services that will make your gates stable, secured and strong.
Searching for the best solutions on Automatic Parking Barrier Gate can be easier for you, if you check up all the posts and reference website provided by the author. Must follow and grab great ideas.
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Sliding Glass Door Repair Tampa FL For Fast Repairs
Do you find your sliding glass door broken or patio door is not working properly? We have a solution as here you will find ultimate source that will rush to help you to the earliest.
All sorts of doors are broken as they don’t only provide us great security, but privacy as well. Not only this, these doors complete the look and feel of any home, hence we make sure its health and longevity. If you find issues with your doors, just connect with the professionals and they will fix all sorts of doors in no time. Whether you want new installation or seeking for a quick repair, or would like to replace an old door, these professionals are ultimate to help. Sliding Glass Door Repair Services In Tampa FL Are you looking for Sliding Glass Door Repair Tampa FL? If yes, here is the best team available that will help you in offering amazing services. It doesn’t matter what kind of issues your doors are suffering from, these professionals are quite active in offering amazing services. If you find your doors are broken down or jammed, or at worst, the professionals are the one will ensure to fix everything in no time. As they have years of experience and knowledge, hence they make sure to hand you over the best and working doors. Ignoring such kind of issues means you are inviting unforeseen events, accidents and breakdowns. This means you may get disturbed with these broken gates, hence fixing the same is highly important. To fix the situation, it is important to talk to the right team and they will be there at your service. Repairs and emergency call outs by professionals No matter what kind of doors you may have and what kind of Patio Door Repair Tampa job you want, the professionals available for help. Just disclose your problem and they will provide you ultimate solutions. Even, they provide you the contract designed to give you cost effective solutions to meet all your requirements. Not only this, the professionals are the best as they can work on any kind of doors, whether it is a classic roller shutters and sectional overheads, simple door or anything else, they are experienced in working with everything. Meet up with the expert engineers and they can provide extra care, servicing and repairs on any kind of doors and barrier systems. So, what are you waiting for? If you are looking for fixing your doors, always consider professionals. Hiring them means they can fix all your issues and ensure in offering right solutions to meet all your requirements. Just talk to the experts and you will find great services which will fix your gate and elevate all your tensions in no time. Also, their prices are logical, which won’t affect your savings at all. Searching for the best solutions on Sliding Glass Door Repair Tampa FL can be easier for you, if you check up all the posts and reference website provided by the author. Must follow and grab great ideas.
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The Importance of Regular Maintenance for Your Roller Shutters in London
Roller shutters are an essential part of many businesses, providing security and protection from the elements. However, like any mechanical device, they require regular maintenance to ensure they continue to function properly. At Shutterepairs, we believe that regular maintenance is crucial for keeping your roller shutters in optimal condition and preventing costly repairs in the future. In this blog, we will discuss the importance of regular maintenance for your roller shutters in London.
Preventing Breakdowns
A malfunctioning roller shutter repairs can have serious consequences for your business, including loss of heat and energy, and a breach of security. By performing regular maintenance on your roller shutters, you can prevent breakdowns and ensure that your business remains secure. Our highly-qualified engineers can provide you with a comprehensive roller shutter repair and maintenance plan to help you save money and prevent unnecessary downtime.
Saving Money
One of the most significant benefits of regular maintenance is that it can save you money in the long run. By catching issues early, you can prevent costly repairs or replacements. Regular maintenance can also help extend the lifespan of your roller shutters, reducing the need for replacements and ultimately saving you money.
Avoiding Extra Efforts
A faulty roller shutter can cause unnecessary extra efforts, such as having to close it manually or struggling to lock it properly. This can be time-consuming and can affect the productivity of your business. By maintaining your roller shutters, you can avoid these extra efforts and ensure that they operate smoothly and efficiently.
Insurance Purposes
A well-installed roller shutter can also be crucial for business insurance purposes. Insurance companies often require businesses to have roller shutters installed to ensure the safety and security of their premises. By maintaining your roller shutters, you can ensure that they meet the necessary safety requirements and that your insurance policy remains valid.
Expert Maintenance
At Shutterepairs, we have years of experience in installing and repairing roller shutters, collapsible grills, and shopfronts. Our team of highly-qualified engineers can provide you with expert maintenance and repairs to keep your roller shutters in optimal condition. We offer emergency call-out services for electric and manual roller shutters of various types, whether they are domestic, industrial, or for shops.
Conclusion
Regular maintenance is essential for keeping your roller shutter door repairs near me in optimal condition and preventing costly breakdowns in the future. By performing regular maintenance, you can save money, prevent unnecessary downtime, and ensure that your business remains secure. At Shutterepairs, we can provide you with a comprehensive roller shutter repair and maintenance plan to help you keep your roller shutters in optimal condition. Contact us today to learn more about our services and how we can help you keep your business secure.
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Roller shutter repair london at best price | Contact Us
Do you need rapid-response security roller shutter repairs or a fix on your shop front roller shutters in london? 24 shutter repair offers same-day emergency roller repair services in London. Whether there has been an impact, malfunction, or sensor fault, you can rest assured that our qualified engineers will have a solution.
If your shutter has been damaged or is in need of emergency repair for any other reason please click here to call us on +44- 07378680035. The majority of our repairs are attended within 3 hours of the first report, and where a repair is possible on our initial visit it is usually completed within 1 hour of being on site.
Our vans are fully stocked with a range of motors, lath, and end locks. If an additional component is required it can be quoted and carried out there and then, ensuring your downtime is kept to an absolute minimum. We repair industrial roller shutters, fast action PVC shutters, sectional overhead doors, garage doors, shop fronts, car park shutters and much more. Call us now to book an emergency repair with a fully trained and qualified engineer.
For more info visit:https://24shutterrepair.co.uk/roller-shutter-repair-london/ https://24shutterrepair.co.uk/
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Rating: Mature: Language, violence, horror themes.
Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11] | [12] | [13] | [14] | [15] | [16] | [17] | [18] | [19]
[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]
Tag List: @crossbowking, @khaleesislytherin
SERIES SUMMARY:
"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."
Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.
CHAPTER TITLE: The Bones of Another.
I could hear the unnerving chorus of biters drifting out from the inside of the large brick building to our left as we slowly made our way down the alley between the two factories. The large faded sign above the building on our right declared itself as our destination.
Paul McDonald’s Metalworks.
Both Daryl and I let out a sigh of relief when we realised the factory near overflowing with biters would not be needing our attention on that particular day.
Despite that, the sheer volume of sound coming from that factory beside us was something to be concerned about. Running along the side of the building was a series of metal roller doors. All of them were closed, locked shut by a handful of padlocks that glimmered in the mid-afternoon light, though I doubted they would do be useful for too much longer. I could hear the dead behind the doors, crashing against the metal with a near rhythmic tempo. The doors themselves didn’t look as if they were long for this world – the metal was rusted, having likely not been replaced for decades, and bowed outwards beneath the onslaught of the walkers behind them.
We hurried down the wide alley, emerging around the corner of the metalwork factory to find the front entrance. They, too, had a pair of roller doors, both along the front wall and pulled shut. Unlike the other building, these didn’t move and still glinted in the sunlight a shiny, new silver.
Also unlike the other building, these roller doors were locked from the inside. We weren’t getting in through there.
“There,” Daryl called out after a moment, pointing towards the small section of the building that jutted out from the main area. It looked to be a reception of sorts, blocked by a pair of double doors with thick glass panelling.
We approached the entrance and I reached out a hand to yank the door open, only to find it was locked.
Just our luck.
Crouching down, I searched for a brief moment for some kind of keyhole or locking mechanism, rising a few seconds later with a frustrated huff. “Damn.”
Daryl cocked a brow. “What?”
“It’s an electric lock,” I answered, gesturing toward the side of the door where a black key-card reader was mounted to the metal doorframe. “Can’t pick that.”
Daryl pointed a lazy hand toward the upper glass panel in the door. “So, we break it.”
I turned to look side-long at him with a cheeky grin, pointing a finger at him gleefully. “I like the way you think.”
He snorted a chuckle.
“Come on. A few two-twenty-threes will get through that bitch,” I remarked, turning back around toward the opening of the alleyway in order to return to the truck. Honestly, there were likely a half-dozen different ways we could break that glass. A good smack with the back of a dagger hilt would probably be effective enough, never mind a solid kick or two to the bottom pane.
Using the gun was a personal preference. And not at all juvenile, right?
We were making our way around when the inevitable happened. A shuddering crash echoed through the alleyway as the roller door to the factory on our left folded beneath the weight of the undead behind it. Like a dam breaking beneath the pressure of water, the biters flooded out of the factory and into the alley.
From further down, no doubt spurred by the sound of their comrades finally breaking free, another roller door seemed to crumble and fall. More biters, spilling out into the alleyway ahead of us.
We were cut off from any escape. I whirled around in place, looking everywhere for some kind of way out.
It didn’t take me long.
On the side of the metalwork factory wall, an old, rusted metal ladder was bolted to the brick. It didn’t look particularly stable, but it was the only choice we had.
I grabbed Daryl by his shoulders and shove him toward it. He stumbled, catching himself on the side of the ladder before turning to look at me over his shoulder. I knew he was about to tell me to go first. Knew it as well as I knew we were about to get eaten if he didn’t move his goddamn chivalrous ass.
“Syn –“
“Just fucking go!” I yelled, tuning in place to keep an eye on the approaching waves of undead.
He didn’t waste any more time arguing. Taking off his backpack and throwing it up onto the roof, Daryl began to climb the unsteady ladder. I waited until he reached the top, which was – admittedly – cutting it quite close. The biters were slow, that was true, but allowing a large amount of them to get within ten feet of me before moving was… not smart.
Still, it was better to cut it close here than put too much weight on the ladder and doom us both.
Daryl began yelling at me the moment he reached the top. I took a running start, leaping up a couple of rungs in order to put my feet out of reach of the biters as quickly as possible. The bolts holding the ladder in place shook with each step I took, rattling the metal against brick unnervingly. When I was a few rungs shy of the rooftop, Daryl reached out a hand and grabbed mine, pulling me up the rest of the way as the ladder gave one final shudder and snapped free of the wall, tumbling down atop the sea of biters below.
Once he’d made sure I was steadily standing atop the roof beside him, Daryl allowed his hands to fall free from my upper arms and glanced down to where the ladder lay, buried beneath the feet of the undead.
“Phew,” I sighed with a breathless laugh. “Close one.”
He gave me a pointed look that indicated he didn’t find it funny. I shrugged, turning away from the edge of the roof to look over the expanse of glass and metal before us.
It was an industrial rooftop, alright. Complete with metal framing and a glass skylight that ran the majority of its surface. From here, I could see through the muck-coated glass to the factory floor below.
It was seemingly empty. Not a dead soul to be seen.
Still. It was no use trying to get in from up here. We had no rope and the fall would be detrimental to Daryl’s fragile human form.
“How the hell we gonna get down from here?” he asked after a moment.
I gestured to the other side of the building. “We cross – carefully. Those fuckers haven’t surrounded us yet. We could probably make it to the other side before they do.”
Daryl gave the glass rooftop a sceptical look.
I pointed to the metal framework that ran along it. “Stick to the sturdy stuff.”
Without waiting for his approval, I began to walk along the metal framing. It was slightly bent into a curve that followed the oval shape of the building’s rooftop itself, which made keeping your footing that much more difficult, but not overall impossible. Daryl stepped along behind me, keeping close enough to reach me in case one of us began to lose our balance.
We made it almost halfway across before I heard Daryl take a sharp intake of breath. I turned in place, twisting my legs to avoid stepping on the glass, and reached out to snatch his hand, trying to steady him. It didn’t work.
He wobbled once, twice, before side-stepping out of instinct to keep his balance. The curve of the glass his foot now rested on only served to unbalance him further. His hand slipped free of mine as he stumbled another step back, throwing out his arms to save himself from falling and coming to an uneasy stop in the centre of the glass pane.
Our gazes met, eyes wide as our breaths came out in panicked bursts. Neither of us dared move. I could hear the faint sounds of the glass groaning beneath his weight, hear it begin to click and shutter. Spiderwebbing cracks began to form beneath his booted feet, spreading across the glassy pane to either side of its metal framing.
It was going to break. He was going to fall.
No. No, no, no.
Keep my little brother safe.
Oh, God fucking damn it.
Daryl’s eyes widened even further as I leapt forwards, grabbing the fabric of his leather vest and spinning. His feet struck the metal frame where I had been standing mere seconds ago whilst mine came to rest atop the crack left behind by his boots.
Neither of us even had a chance to react after the swap. The movement must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, as it were.
The glass shattered beneath me.
For a moment, I felt nothing but emptiness around me and the rush of wind. And then, the sickening crunch of my own bones as my back struck the concrete floor. A split second passed between my landing and the brief moment of unconsciousness, during which I felt my own skull crack and shatter.
It was a mixture of sounds that brought me back to reality a few seconds later.
Daryl, screaming my name from the rooftop. The sounds of my bones cracking back into place. My own pitiful moans of pain as I blinked my eyes open, feeling every part of my body that had broken on impact.
God.
My spine realigned itself, snapping the vertebrae back into place as my ribs did the same. The sound of the fragmented pieces of my skull sliding back together was… gross. I hated it. It hurt.
Still. Better than being dead, I guess. Which was exactly what Daryl would be right now had I not switched places with him.
With a loud moan, I managed to push myself up into a sitting position. The back of my head was slick with blood, gushing from a pressure wound beneath my hair that had yet to heal. I doubted it even would.
My magical ability to heal myself was limited to say the least. Only the most life-threatening injuries would fix themselves without my conscious permission. Anything else, I’d have to focus my magic on. Which meant, the dislocated shoulder, fractured elbow, and head injury were just gonna have to stay. I couldn’t risk trying to heal them, too, given the fact overusing my magic could possibly result in my immediate painful demise.
Long story. Just trust me when I say, I have a limit. A very strict limit.
“Syn! Synnove!” Daryl’s frantic voice echoed through the empty factory.
It took me a second to focus my vision upward, to where he was leaning on his hands and knees, peering down through the hole in the glass I had fallen through. His hands were pressing on the edges of the hole.
“Get off the glass, you idiot!” I called up to him.
I only had a brief glimpse of his relieved expression before he scrambled back onto the metal framework, disappearing behind the murky glass ceiling.
“You a’right?” he yelled.
“Been better,” I answered, reaching behind my head, tentatively feeling the edges of the gash beneath my hair with gentle fingers. They came away sticky and red. “But I’ll live!”
Even through my somewhat foggy brain, I heard his loud sigh of relief from all the way down on the ground floor.
“I’ll find a way in!” he announced after a moment.
“Be careful, would you?” I yelled back. He didn’t answer.
It hurt to move, but I forced myself up onto my feet anyway. This place was hollow and empty, but it would be worth staying alert just in case. My legs seemed to be relatively uninjured, for which I was thankful. The joint of my left ankle ached a little, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing at the back of my head.
Slowly, I began to move through the factory. It was ridiculously overcrowded with machinery and scrap metal, to the point that there was practically no clear path to walk down whatsoever. I had to unsteadily manoeuvre past piles of sharp sheet metal, roughly cut beams and complicated-looking machinery.
There was a destination I had in mind, of course. Across the other side of the factory from where I’d fallen, a metal staircase rose up from the ground to an overhanging mezzanine. I could see a set of doors up there that likely lead to some kind of office area in which I hoped there would be some kind of list of machinery and materials. Maybe even instruction manuals. Wouldn’t that be handy?
I was shimmying between two smaller machines that had been placed much too close together to be considered OSHA accredited, when I heard an odd sound. In front of me, where a somewhat dangerous-looking pile of brick and metal piping lay on the factory floor, I could swear I heard the sound of scraping metal. At first, I kind of thought my head injury was a lot worse than I’d originally thought.
But then, the bricks began to move.
I stood, partially wedged between those two machines, and watched with a mixture of awe and terror as something pushed its way to the top of the pile from beneath.
And I mean… I’m talking like… a good three tons of brick. Not to mention the metal pipes protruding from it like it was a fucking art-student’s interpretation of an industrial porcupine.
Something that had been buried beneath over three tons of brick and metal was pushing its way to freedom.
I took half a step back, catching my shirt on the machine to my left before freezing in place as what looked like a human hand burst free from the bricks, scattering debris and metal piping to the concrete floor surrounding it.
And then, bit by bit, a humanoid creature emerged from the pile of brick and metal. Its lower half was still covered by the building material, but I could see the back of its torso, the long, dusty and disgusting strands of dark hair that hung down over its protruding spine. A low gurgling sound emanated from deep within its throat, hollow and hungry.
I kept myself perfectly still, barely even allowing myself to breathe in order to remain as silent as possible. There was no doubt that thing had heard me fall from the roof, but perhaps it did not yet know where I was.
The creature lifted its head, tilting it toward the ceiling before taking what I imagined passed as a long, struggling sniff of the air.
I could hear its bones and joints cracking at even the subtlest of its movements as it slowly twisted its head toward me. Could it… smell me?
I didn’t move, barely even breathed. My entire body was frozen in place as I watched that thing turn toward me. Its ratty hair cascaded down over its face, partially obscuring it from view, for which I was thankful. The parts of it I could see through those dark strands were grey and rotting, a single milky eye peering out from a deeply sunken socket. Despite the likelihood that it couldn’t even see through that particular eye, the moment it passed by me made my veins go cold.
My fear was almost instinctive. It bore no logical thought. This creature, it was a biter. I’d faced hundreds of biters and barely felt a flicker of unease let alone outright horror. Why was this one so different? Why was my entire body frozen beneath its unseeing gaze?
We remained in an odd stalemate for a long, painful minute. Neither of us moved. I didn’t know if it was just my imagination, but I was almost certain that thing was searching for me. Listening for movement. Like it knew I was here, but not exactly where.
It was difficult to control my breathing, to keep it steady enough to remain almost completely still. My chest was beginning to almost ache with the effort.
And then, the inevitable happened.
A droplet of blood from the back of my head rolled down the blonde strand of hair at the nape of my neck and struck the concrete floor with a barely distinguishable drip.
The creature’s neck almost snapped with the speed it used to turn its head to the side, toward me. Listening.
A second drop of blood struck the floor. That was all it took. The creature burst free from the brick and metal encasing its lower half in a shower of debris. I let out a strangled sound as it leapt toward me, scrambling back from between the two machines, taring my shirt free as I spun on my heel.
That thing pursued me, remaining much too close for comfort as I tried to twist and dodge past the machinery scattered throughout the factory floor. I could feel its fingers reaching out for me, close enough that the scent of its rotting flesh was all I could smell.
It was ridiculously fast, faster than any biter had a right to be. And agile. Too agile.
It kept up with me, even through the weaving and twisting. When I felt its hand close on the fabric of the back of my shirt, I planted my foot and pivoted. The creature kept going, the force of my sudden change of direction ripping my shirt free from its dead grasp. It took merely a second to readjust itself, turning in place to face me once again with a fierce, gurgling growl.
Without a moment of hesitation, I leapt up and slid over the pile of scrap metal that had been resting beside me. The sharp edges tore at my flesh, but I didn’t pay the pain any thought. My mind was in full survival mode.
I heard the creature behind me attempt to make the same jump as I continued in my mad sprint, eyes locking on my new targeted destination. Those stairs. I could make it. I could make it.
The thing remained hot on my heels as I moved through the factory at a speed much too fast to be considered viable for a human. I planted my foot on one side of a machine to give myself enough height to launch over the top of another, landing on the other side of that pile of brick and metal, closer to the beginning of the staircase.
The creature refused to give up. It tore pieces of its flesh off in an attempt to squeeze through those two machines where I’d been caught earlier.
I kept moving, sprinting across the small open areas and weaving my way between obstacles. When I reached the beginning of the staircase, I did my best not to slow down, reaching out for the railing and pulling myself up the first few steps as fast as I could.
Still, my speed had suffered. I should have known better.
I was barely four steps from the top when I felt that skeletal hand wrap itself around my ankle. The suddenness of the immobility made me stumble forwards. I slammed my hands down on the edge of the stair in front of me to catch myself before I was unceremoniously yanked backwards.
It was strong. Too fucking strong.
I turned my body around, gripping the vertical struts in the railing to keep myself from being pulled any further. When I looked down toward my feet, the sight that awaited me made me actually scream. A new wave of fear blew through my body with the force of an ice storm.
It’s skeletal, rotting hand gripped my ankle, pulling me towards its snapping maw. The skin and muscle around its mouth had been torn away, giving it a ghoulish grin as it opened and closed its jaws, stretching out its neck toward me as it tried to bite the edge of my boot, mere inches from its jagged teeth.
Its hair was windswept, pulled back almost entirely behind its’ head, giving me an unpleasantly perfect view of its hideous face.
The strength behind it was almost too much even for me. I gripped the railing, trying to pull myself higher as it yanked me downwards, causing the metal itself to begin to bend.
Without thinking, I let out a screech loud enough to reverberate through the entire factory. “DARYL!”
I couldn’t move my other foot to kick it as it was one of the only things, other than my grip on the metal bar beside me, that was keeping me from sliding further towards the creature’s awaiting teeth.
The metal bent further, groaning beneath the weight of our combined strengths, loud enough to be heard over the sound of smashing glass somewhere to my left. The pole was going to snap free. I could feel it slowly beginning to give way the longer I gripped it.
With a grunt of effort, I pushed off with my unrestrained foot atop the lower stair and let one hand unwind from the rail, stretching out and snatching the neighbouring vertical pole a step higher. Before I was able to swap over my weight completely, the lower pole snapped free from its bearings.
I was pulled down with another shriek of Daryl’s name that was cut off as my back stuck the edge of the step beneath me. The creature’s gnashing teeth came within millimetres of the bare skin of my ankle, beneath its rotted hand.
And then, almost from nowhere, a green tipped arrow lodged itself in the lower half of the back of its head. The creature’s grip went limp.
Without wasting a second, I began to scramble up the staircase backwards, on my hands. I needed to get away from that thing.
When I was close to the top, I felt a pair of strong arms secure themselves beneath my own, hoisting me up the rest of the way and onto my feet. I continued to stagger back a few steps, my back pressing against a hard chest as I stared at the twitching figure at the base of the staircase.
“Syn?” a voice behind me asked in a hushed voice.
The arms beneath mine slid free, hands moving upward to grip my shoulders.
I was turned away from the twitching creature, my gaze fixing on the bright, worried eyes of my companion.
“You good?” Daryl asked, gripping my shoulders so tightly his fingers began to dig into my skin.
I felt a shaky breath escape as I blinked away the haze of panic and fear from my mind. Glancing back over my shoulder toward the fallen thing at the bottom of the stairs, I gave a single shouldered shrug. He squeezed, pulling my attention back to him and his concerned gaze.
“Syn… You good?” he asked again.
I opened my mouth, intent on answering, when I heard a small sound from behind me. A groan, a metallic creak. My eyes went wide. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, a ripple of an instinctive warning rolling across my body like a wave.
“What?” Daryl asked.
I didn’t answer. There wasn’t time to.
Reaching out and snatching his forearm, I tugged him into a run. The mezzanine we stood on extended a few metres to the eastern wall of the building where I could see the broken window Daryl had entered through. Shards of glass littered the metal grate in front of it.
We’d barely moved half an inch when I felt the burst of air brush across my back as the creature launched itself from the below and up the entire flight of stairs. I heard it crash into the concrete wall opposite the opening of the staircase but didn’t turn to look.
Daryl twisted his head around, causing his speed to slow as he let out a strangled curse. I pulled him back into step with me, spurred faster by the sound of the creature scrambling back up onto its feet against the metal grating of the mezzanine. Our footfalls began to crunch against the scattered shards of glass from the broken window and I tried to pull Daryl along faster. But he was only human, and he was too slow. That thing behind us moved almost faster than me. At this rate, we were not going to make it to that window without it catching up.
When I heard the footfalls behind us change from the hollow, metallic sound of the mezzanine to the distinctive crunch of glass, the realisation of what I’d have to do hit me. A few paces in front of us, set into the concrete wall to our left, was a door. From this angle, I could see it was partially open and lead into some kind of office space.
When we reached it, the creature mere inches behind us, I let my grip on Daryl’s forearm fall in order to push him aside. He careened sideways and into the wooden door, stumbling inside and disappearing from view.
I put on a new burst of speed once he was out of harm’s way, drawing the creature into following me.
I knew I wasn’t going to make it through that window, even with my inhuman speed. That thing was just as – if not faster – than I was. With little choice, I decided within a split second to turn on my heel just before the window and face the thing, grinding pieces of glass beneath the soles of my boots as I did so. The thing hit me with the force of a goddamn freight train, sending both of our bodies flying backwards, through the shattered window behind us. I felt shards of jagged glass rip the flesh of my back as I sailed across the base of the window frame.
We hit the concrete of the narrow overhang outside the window, rolling across it until I managed to plant a hand down to stop myself tumbling over and into the ocean of biters gathered below. With me on my stomach, I barely had a chance to roll over onto my back before that fucking thing was on top of me. Its gnarled hands gripped the fabric at the front of my shirt as it stretched its neck downward, gnashing its teeth together as it tried to take a chunk out of my face.
I locked my forearms beneath its chin, pushing against its efforts to sink its teeth into my cheek. Struggling beneath the force of its strength, I tried to slide my knees beneath its torso, but its body was pressed too tightly against mine. I could do nothing more but focus on keeping its teeth away from my flesh.
Thankfully, Daryl appeared in the shattered window, crossbow at the ready. He fired an arrow just as the creature pushed forward and it lodged into the flesh at the curve of its neck. I heard him swear as he climbed hastily through the jaggedly broken window, clearing the gap between us in a mere second as he pulled his leg back and booted the thing in the side of its face. The force of his kick sent the fucker flying sideways, over the edge of the outcrop and into the sea of undead below. Its grip tore the fabric of my shirt but thankfully, it wasn’t enough to pull me down with it.
I lay, turned at the hip, staring down over the edge at the undead as they trampled over the things body, clawing at the wall beneath us.
Daryl’s strong hand enclosed my upper arm as he pulled me up onto my feet and spun me none-too-gently to face him. He gripped my chin, gazing worriedly down at me as he turned my head from side to side, inspecting every inch of my bare skin for any sign of bite or scratch.
I lifted a hand to gently touch his forearm. “I’m not bit.”
Daryl slowly lowered his hands, though didn’t take his eyes off me for at least another minute. His intense gaze as he surveyed my wounds made my skin begin to tingle in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the pain.
Quickly, before I could think much of it, I turned away. The outcrop overlooked the area on the opposite side of the reception building of the entry door. An area that was now completely flooded with undead bodies, all growling and groaning, scratching at the outer brick wall of the factory as they stared blankly up at us.
The thing was nowhere to be seen. I had half a mind to believe it was currently being trampled over by that sea of undead below. The thought made me grin ruefully.
Daryl let out a breath as he leant over to peer into the abyss beside me. “The hell was that thing?” he asked with a deep frown.
I shook my head, electing to ignore the question as I turned back toward the shattered window. Droplets of blood trickled down the brick beneath it from where I’d torn a decent slice out of my back against the jagged glass. Only now did I begin to feel the cuts and bruises I’d developed within the past five minutes. The cold air began to caress the open wounds, brushing the tattered remains of my shirt aside to display them in all their bloody glory.
“Where’d you put that backpack?” I asked, glancing side-long at Daryl, drawing his attention back from the edge of the outcrop.
He gestured toward the inside of the factory. “Where you damn shoved me.”
I cocked a brow at him. “You’re welcome.”
Without waiting to hear what would likely be a smart-ass response from him, I turned and began to cautiously climb back through the roughly shattered window, back onto the metal mezzanine. From behind me, I heard Daryl’s sharp intake of breath as he spotted the mess of torn flesh on my back.
I ignored it as I made my way toward the small gap I’d thrown Daryl through mere minutes ago.
The white door was pushed all the way open now, revealing the small, cosy office space that lay beyond. It was roughly carpeted and sparsely occupied, with only a pair of desks and accompanying chairs sitting within. One desk was pushed toward the western side of the room, with the other situated in the north-eastern corner, beside a tall, somewhat rusted filing cabinet.
The backpack lay discarded by the second desk. I crossed the room and made a move to bend down to pick it up, stopping partway down when the sensation of taring flesh made me jerk to a halt.
Thankfully, Daryl appeared in the doorway a second later. “Don’t move.”
He sounded slightly disgruntled, which was really just his version of distressed, as he approached me, leaning around my partially bent over body to pick up the backpack he’d discarded. Placing it atop the desk, he jerkily unzipped the larger section and pulled out the small white box.
I slowly straightened, stepping around Daryl in order to hoist myself up onto the opposite side of the desk, pushing the dusty folders to the floor as I did so.
He began to unpack the first-aid supplies inside the small white box, silently gesturing for me to turn around as he undid the cap on the miniature bottle of antiseptic. I lifted the back of my shirt high enough for him to reach the torn skin.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
The first touch of the antiseptic startled me more than it hurt. A sudden, sharp sensation shot through my body and I forced myself not to wince or jerk away. It took Daryl almost ten entire minutes to patch me up to his standards. Every time I thought he was finally done, I’d go to slide off the desk, only for him to roughly grab my upper arm to keep me in place with a gruff, “Stop movin’.”
Finally, after what felt like a damn lifetime, he stepped away from me and began silently packing up the first-aid supplies into their little box. I slid off the desk and walked over to the open door, peaking out and surveying the empty, rapidly darkening factory before pulling it closed.
Without a word, I crossed to the other side of the room and sunk down against the wall until I was sitting on the floor, leaning my head back with a deep sigh.
Without a word, having packed up the backpack, Daryl came over and slid down next to me, close enough for our shoulders to touch. I could feel his concerned gaze on me whilst I stared blankly up at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching my jaw as I tried to force the tension from my body.
Which was… counterintuitive, really.
“They ain’t gonna clear up,” Daryl stated after a long moment of silence, during which I could hear scarcely more than the overwhelming sound of the undead outside our walls.
“Not for a while, at least,” I agreed with a slight nod.
“What you wanna do?”
I let out a sigh through my nose. “Rest.”
My entire body was exhausted, my mind almost more-so. The healing magic had tired me out damn near down to my very soul, as any kind of magic so often did for me these days. Add that in with my terrifying encounter with that… thing… and I was sufficiently done for the day.
Only problem was, each time I closed my eyes now, that things face was all I saw. Rotted flesh, milky eyes, and teeth up to its cheeks. That dead eyed grin. The matted, dark hair that twisted and tangled over half its face, catching on the pointed ends of its partially torn ears…
It’s…
Pointed ears…
It’s pointed ears. Pointed. Ears. Ears that ended in a point.
Just like mine.
I shot upright so quickly I almost made Daryl jump out of his skin. My body was going from hot to cold rapidly, making my joints shake as I pushed myself up, back onto my feet and began to nervously, anxiously, irately, and tensely pace around the room.
I couldn’t even formulate an acute thought. Everything was a haze of panic and speculation and worry. My breath was coming out in hard pants, chest rising and falling almost in time with my pacing footfalls.
It couldn’t be, right? I was projecting. Remembering it wrong. I’d been in a blind panic when I’d been up-close-and-personal with that thing, my mind couldn’t be trusted to recount it effectively, right?
No. No, I had seen that thing. I knew I had. That thing might have been undead, but it wasn’t just a walker.
It was a fae walker.
An undead faerie. One of my kind, taken by the very virus that had near wiped out the creatures some considered lesser than us. Humanity. We were as venerable as they were and that was a frightening thought.
I didn’t notice Daryl until my face practically hit his chest. He’d risen from his place on the floor and had come to stand in my path, hands outstretched as if he’d been calling for my attention for some time now. I felt his warm hands on the bare skin of my upper arms, holding me steadily in place as he peered worriedly down at me, frowning.
“The hell’s wrong?” he asked, voice slightly hitched.
I looked up at him, eyes still unfocused, and shook my head. There was nothing I could say to him. No way to explain it without revealing entirely too much information.
“Thinking,” I managed to say, though the hoarseness to my voice made even me cringe.
His grip on me tightened. “Your damn near scaring me, woman.”
How could I say it? What words could I even use to describe the kind of dark, shadow of doom and bone-deep unease that I felt pressing in on my chest? He wouldn’t understand – couldn’t understand. Not this.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said slowly, forcing myself to meet his gaze evenly.
“That’s all I’m damn doing,” he snapped back, his voice somehow soft despite the harsh delivery. “Talk to me.”
I shook my head. “I need to sleep.” Without waiting for his response, I pulled myself out of his grip and stepped past him, back over to the wall I’d originally sunk down against. Returning to the floor, I forced my breaths to calm and squeezed my eyes shut, shoving every other image into my mind I could think of to clear the picture of that undead nightmare from the darkness behind my closed lids.
A movie of memories passed in a flash.
My baby sister, Thana, giggling on her back on our white sofa, her brilliant red hair sprayed out around her head, contrasting against the soft yellow of her Wiggles pyjama’s.
Alister, my adoptive father, smiling brightly as he unscrewed the cap of a whiskey bottle and poured me my first legal drink.
A flash of a beautiful landscape of rolling green, a forest as big and vast as an ocean, seen from the top of a castle spire beneath a brilliant night sky with two moons.
An old redneck, sitting in the driver’s seat of a rusted truck, belting out his own rendition of “I Will Always Love You” horribly off key while he fought back a grin.
A younger man in a leather, angle-winged vest, smiling at me over his shoulder from the back of his motorcycle.
I forced myself to remember, to think of anything else but that one, terrifying picture, but even as these memories, these flashes of images I held dear to my heart, played out, I could see the torn and rotting face growing clearer and clearer beneath them until they had faded out completely and it was all I could see.
My eyes opened.
Almost instantly, my gaze was drawn to Daryl, who was leaning against the desk in front of where I sat, looking down at me with a concerned frown.
Neither of us spoke as we looked at one another. After surveying what was likely my miserable expression, Daryl silently pushed off from the desk and came to sit beside me once again, lifting one of his arms and inviting me to shuffle closer. I did, without a word, resting my cheek against his collar and nuzzling the top of my head into the side of his neck. The side of his face came to rest against my hair as the arm around me tightened, hand softly gripping my shoulder.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. All I remember was deciding to close my eyes before I began to drift away.
#the walking dead#twd#the walking dead fanfic#twd fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#daryl dixon#synnove le jacques#the monsters among us
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What to look for in a good garage door company
If your garage door stops working, it can be a huge inconvenience. You use it every day when you come home from shopping, and your kids use it constantly when they go outside. Plus, you're constantly in and out of the garage when you're doing lawn work. So, what do you do when your garage door stops working? The last thing you need is to come home with a car full of shopping and kids to find out that you can't get into the garage.
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For More Detail: https://www.jordans-overhead.com/
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Garage Door Repair Pros
473 Lynnwood Rd, Lynnwood
012 004 2249
https://garagedoorpros.co.za/pretoria/
https://www.google.com/maps?cid=1072854767253215579
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Typical Queries
When do you need a garage door expert? -------- - Springs are not operating - Garage door can not be opened up - Garage door requires lubrication - Trouble in opening the door with a remote
What if I require garage door accessories?
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Certainly! At My Garage Doors Pretoria, you can find every garage door part.
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Garage Door Repair Pros Pretoria
473 Lynnwood Rd, Lynnwood
012 004 2249
https://garagedoorpros.co.za/pretoria/
https://www.google.com/maps?cid=1072854767253215579
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PARKING AUTOMATIC DOOR MOTOR DUBAI
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8 questions asked the most about garage door repair
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Garage door installation and repairing is one of the trickiest and toughest tasks and can be carried out only by professionals. Once it is installed, there is a lot of mechanisms involved in it. Different types of garage doors like single panel garage doors, sectional garage doors, and roller doors involve different types of mechanisms for installation and repair. Single panel garage doors contain monolithic panels and can be opened with the help of a hinge and opens up completely to the roof of the garage. Monolithic panel garage doors are old fashioned and are seldom used as they cause damage to the vehicle if it is placed too close to the garage door because of the hinge that occupies space while opening and closing the door. Sectional types of garage doors contain monolithic panels are kind of doors that are made by joining the required number of wooden plates and open in sections with the help of a single hinge. This opens safely to the roof and is never a problem for the vehicles parked inside. These can be made using steel, wood or any Polyethylene material. Sectional garage doors are mostly used because of their modern safety measures with sensors that are very helpful in many ways. Roller garage doors contain monolithic panels are also called sheet doors that usually roll upwards like a sheet towards the garage door area. These are made of aluminum which is subjected to thermal insulation. These are the most commonly seen garage doors for their convenience and these doors are budget-friendly and most preferred for the space they provide inside the garage.
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Once installed, the garage doors are going to last for several years but that doesn’t mean they do not bring problems in between. That’s when we come to your rescue and help you get rid of it. Be it a single panel garage door or sectional garage door or roller type. We solve it and make it easy for you. Regarding the repair, many questions are raised and resolved. Let us discuss the most commonly asked questions about the problems regarding the repair of different types of garage doors.
Questions asked the most about garage door repair:
Here we discuss the eight most commonly asked questions and commonly faced problems regarding garage door repairs. What to do if the spring that holds the door while opening and closing are broken? A garage door has no support without the spring since it holds the weight of the door. If the spring is broken, the door will be displaced as the spring starts unwinding in less than a minute thus creating so much noise. Call us for immediate help, your broken spring might need a repair or sometimes a replacement that can not be done on your own. Our professionals hold expertise in any kind of repairs with proper tools and pieces of equipment. Why does my garage door open on its own? Usually, garage doors are operated through remote control, dying batteries of your remote control may lead to this problem. Any debris that is blocking the door track can also be one of the reasons. An electrical board problem can also be a cause, continuous monitoring may help in avoiding such inconveniences. There are some fine adjustments to the pulling power of the motor for going up as well as going down, sometimes fluctuation in power supply in either direction can cause this condition. Another important point to be underlined is the force and travel adjustments on a garage door opener. An improper operation like unaligned adjustments of force and travel of the garage door can also lead to serious injuries. Increasing the force beyond the minimum can be dangerous and any adjustments made regarding the force and travel should be tested properly. All these problems need proper observation and assistance. Why does my garage door make so much noise while closing? Roller garage doors tend to create this problem often. Broken spring might be one of the reasons for the noise that your door creates while closing. If the noise is kind of grinding, then your roller garage door needs proper lubrication. It might need a lithium-based grease for proper lubrication. Let us know and get an immediate response from our experts in resolving this problem. Why does my garage door light keeps blinking and does not close?
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This piece of equipment is a safety feature that ensures the closing of the garage door without any obstacles. If the electricity beam used by the safety sensor detects any obstacle, it automatically reverses the process opening the door all by itself. The continuous blinking of light might be because of some improper alignment and temporary obstruction of safety sensors. Continuous blinking of light also warns about faults in the wiring which can be resolved by our professionals at garage door opener repair. Can I replace the whole Garage door? Absolutely yes, a serious problem in the abnormal behavior of your garage door can also lead to serious loss. Replacing the door by calling our garage door replacement professionals will be helpful and resolve the problem for a long period. Replacing the garage door depends on the type of track your garage already possess and the installation may be challenging. Selecting the right kind and quality garage door which is stable and reliable and fixing it is our responsibility. What is a broken cable? And the reason behind it? A cable is a thick wire that is usually present at the upward corners of the garage door that winds and unwinds when the door starts to open and close. Sometimes, the improper functioning of the sensors and remote controls can lead to the breakage of cable wire, by which the door will stop functioning properly. Call our professionals for immediate response and the best quality service. Why did my garage door come off its tracks? The main reason behind the garage door going off its tracks is due to the hard-hit that causes displacement. Hitting the garage door with a car leads the shutter to go off track, this might happen when you forget to open the garage door with the remote control before starting the car. It can also happen due to the rush before the door completely opens. Another reason for this problem is that if the door tracks are not made with quality 14 gauge steel which is ideal for making the garage door tracks and also the weight of the door should be ideally 100 to 180 kg. Not reaching the proper requirements will lead to this problem with any slight accidental impact. The garage door going off-track can cause serious injuries. Call our professionals and get it done with all guaranteed safety and quality. Can we use the garage door with a broken spring? Not getting a broken spring repaired might get dangerous as the garage doors are heavy and are balanced by those torsion springs. In the case of ignorance, the spring might break and can lead to the imbalanced closing of the garage door. This imbalanced closing of the garage door might lead to injuries and loss of property. There are still many questions regarding the repair of garage doors like the quality of steel gauge used to align on the garage door tracks, sectional garage door’s durability based on the material used, curiosity in knowing the mechanism to make small manual adjustments carefully will also be answered by our professionals and will lead you in the right path towards the solution. The garage door is the biggest mechanism in the construction of the whole house that needs to be monitored constantly. By identifying the problems and contacting us at the earliest can get them solved smoothly. Be it a broken spring or the garage door coming off its tracks. Be it a broken cable or the replacement of the whole garage door because of the noise problems it creates. Be it the sensor light issue or any other garage door problem, all these occur due to different reasons and can be resolved. We also provide all kinds of repairs including gate installations and repairs. California is where we serve and respond immediately to any calls that concern us. We serve in different places like Anaheim, Orange, Los Alamitos, and many other places in California. Our professionals always arrive on time with the right pieces of equipment and reliable quality products that need to be repaired and replaced. We serve under 24/7 responsive calls and anytime emergency issues. We are affordable and are available for any problem that is concerned with your garage door. Contact us and we shall serve you at the earliest. Choosing the right professional for the solutions to your problems is as equal as choosing the perfect quality and reliable solution for your garage door. Read the full article
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Locksmith at your disposal
How many times have you exclaimed "and now, what do I do?" In front of a broken lock or key in the door. From today you can forget that phrase because you know exactly what to do: call the Emergency Services Locksmith 24 , that is, a locksmith specialized in window frames who will be at your house in a short time to solve the problem.
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Call a professional locksmith?
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Emergency Services Locksmith 24 is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Do you have an unexpected problem and need to go to the office for work? Do you need an urgent locksmith? No fear. Thanks to Locksmith 24H, a professional will be immediately at your home to resolve the situation. Do not wait for the lock to break or the shutter to lock before calling the locksmith: do it as soon as you notice that the mechanism of the door or shutter starts to create problems. In this way you will avoid being locked out of the house or having a crooked roller shutter; so the repair will be faster and less expensive.
When do I need to call a Emergency Services Locksmith 24
A Emergency Services Locksmith 24 response should be called whenever our locks give problems, without waiting for the mechanism to stop working completely. As soon as you realize that your key is hard to turn, that the lock locks for a second and unlocks by itself, that the home door does not close as it should be, then it is good to call a professional locksmith and request his intervention. In this case, the intervention may not be immediate, but receiving assistance in a short time, perhaps within a week, allows you to check in advance for any damage and avoid that you find yourself needing an Emergency Services Locksmith 24 .
Emergency Services Locksmith 24 operate 24/7 around United Kingdom. We provide services in: Rotherham, St Albans, Luton , Central Bedfordshire, Walsall, Oldham, East London, South West London .
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Quality Locksmith 24 In UK
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Reasons to Choose Rhino Shutters for Your Roller Shutter Services
Rhino Shutters is a 100% Australian company operating out of Sydney. We specialize in providing various roller shutter services like the manufacture of roller shutters, their installation and even repair. We provide roller shutters services for both commercial customers as well as residential customers. We understand that our clients have busy schedules and therefore we operate 24 hours and 7 days to meet all our customer’s needs.
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We also understand that emergency can knock doors at any time and so we even provide emergency services. Our roller shutters provide protection from heat and cold, glare, noise, light, bushfire, fire, intruders, burglars, break-ins, privacy, storm and even cyclone. Our shutters are even renowned to add thousands to the value of your home. We provide a wide range of colours to choose from that can suit your home or business. At Rhino Shutters, we understand the Australian climate and therefore we only provide 100% Australian made products. We have a highly trained staff that respects the deadline and provides quick delivery. To know more about our high-quality products at economical prices and our customer service, visit https://www.rhinoshutters.com.au/ or call us on 1300 781 755.
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Welcome to Trump Prison Tower and Casino
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April 2, 2021
Atlantic City, New Jersey
A fist that appeared to be a plump ham grabbed my collar and stopped me where I stood. I looked up to see a face that matched the hand: a round, pink one without a single hair, a grimace, and a nose that looked remarkably like a snout.
"You lost?" the bouncer growled while tuxedos and evening gowns filed past him and his leather jacket-bound front door enforcers.
I opened my mouth to explain, but a yelp was all I could manage as the razor sharp high heel of a woman wearing a sparkling red gown gouged my foot.
She stumbled, snapped her head around to snort her disapproval, her nostrils flared and furious, and went on her way, into the entrance alongside a distinguished silver-haired man with an unlit cigar dangling from his lips. Behind them were two men: one wearing diamond-encrusted sunglasses, the other using a flaming fifty dollar bill to light a comically oversized cigar. All I could think was that if he was really a high roller -- the kind that come to this place on a Friday night -- he would've lit that thing with a Franklin.
"I'm with them," I told the bouncer. There was nothing I could do about the quiver in my voice. "Over there."
The hefty bald man followed my pointing finger and saw the group of five bedraggled men and women, dressed as nicely as they could be and still looking like slobs.
"If you're with the content generators," the bouncer said, shoving me toward the group, "then stay with the content generators."
I slumped back to what would've been called the press pool, back in what seems like a generation ago. We're now known as a content generating grouping. CGG for short. Waves of newsroom arrests three years prior had brought reforms to the journalism industry. I got into the content generation industry shortly after the Newsroom Shock campaign of '17.
"CGG folks, this way," shouted the old lady who served as our guide for the night. The lady, Margaret, took a drag of her cigarette and motioned for us to enter. And in we went, heads down as we passed the extraordinarily rich guests, who stopped and stared at our scuffed up shoes and oversized button-down shirts.
The Trump Prison Tower and Casino was practically buzzing.
The din of excited chatter was close to deafening in the enormous structure that had been erected in the final months of President Trump's first term in the White House, when temples to American excess began sprouting up from coast to coast. The federal government subsidized the massive undertaking in hopes that these odes to merciless toughness and unconstrained frivolity would spark an economy that had plunged into a veritable black hole.
The president had shuttered the prison in Guantanamo Bay, riling Republicans who called for his impeachment. The party's outrage ceased when President Trump unveiled plans for fourteen Trump Prison Tower and Casinos to be built across the country as a sort of public works project that would not create new roads and bridges and infrastructure, but playgrounds for the ultra wealthy. The towers would house the Guantanamo Bay detainees, along with hundreds of suspected terrorists held in secret prisons the world over.
"It will be the greatest, most important undertaking in this nation's history," the president said from the Oval Office, which now had sparkling gold walls. "We will show our enemies that we win, win, win -- not just on the battlefield, but at the craps table too."
The first spectacle my content generating grouping saw was a children's play zone, where parents would leave their spawn before engaging in the decidedly adult activities on the tower's top floor. There were a few dozen kids, all wearing virtual reality helmets, sleek and silver, as they kicked and punched and pointed their hands here and there in the shape of a gun. The expansive room was otherwise empty, with padded floors on which kids occasionally dived and rolled.
A content generator asked our tour guide, Margaret, exactly what we were witnessing when a roar came from a bar area across the marble floor. It was what became known as a Fantasy Bar, where people came to play fantasy sports in real time. Bar goers stared into holographic TVs and screamed at baseball games as they unfolded. One emaciated young guy with a mop of black hair sat, hunched over at the end of the bar, and wept amid the holographic players running to and fro.
Margaret cleared her throat. "These children are engaging in the latest in video game technology," she declared in her raspy voice. "What they're playing now is a new release in the emerging field of civics education technology -- a way to experience civic engagement firsthand."
I asked Margaret why this brood of children was kicking and punching the air in front of them.
"Because they're experiencing the 2017 Detroit riots," Margaret said with a smile. "Their mission is to vanquish the terrorists who refused to work."
"You mean the protesters at the work camps," I said.
"American employment stations."
"Right."
Off we went, up a steep escalator into the glow of the tower's top floor, where legendary debauchery supposedly unfolded. Tales of orgies and open air drug markets and mob hits and men wrestling bears and lions were told everywhere in the years after the president built his towers. This Atlantic City location was supposed to be the most debauched -- a place that would make Caligula call for order.
But at the top of the escalator was nothing that would make you question your eyes. There was gambling, sure, but it was mostly mild mannered folks wearing less-than-formal clothes trying their hand at blackjack and craps and poker. They mostly ignored their surroundings: the walls around the gaming area were made of some sort of thick glass, with brown skinned men sitting and standing behind the see-through walls. They looked down at the ground, they paced back and forth, none of them talking. On a few walls were sprawling flat screens showing American military vehicles storming across some faraway desert, interspersed with images of lifeless bodies lying in rubble, exploding balls of orange flame, and smiling U.S. troops walking alongside happy brown children.
My content generating grouping moved through the gamblers, concerned with their growing and dwindling stacks of chips while surrounded by what Margaret called "the worst of the worst" in "the war on Muslims."
My story assignment was "27 Ways People Live It Up At Trump Prison Tower and Casino," so I asked Margaret if I could speak with a customer. She obliged and approached a man leaving a blackjack table. "Excuse me sir," Margaret said, "but would you mind if this young man spoke to you? He's creating content today and hoped to interface with some of our guests."
The man nodded politely. "Sure," he said. "I enjoy content."
His name was Oliver Newton, a middle-aged black man wearing a button-down checkered shirt that stretched over a protruding belly. Oliver wore a well-groomed goatee inexplicably dyed black underneath his mostly-grey crop of hair.
"It's nice to get out and have a good time," Oliver told me as Margaret nodded toward one of the security cameras overhead. "But it's also nice to be able to do your part in the war. We should all contribute."
I asked him what he meant. He guided me to a small screen near the edge of the glass-enclosed prison surrounding the casino games.
"Look here," Oliver said to me, pointing at the screen. "I can decide how the government punishes these folks, these bad guys."
I looked over the multi-colored buttons dotting the black screen. The yellow one read "water boarding," the orange one said "sleep deprivation," the purple one read "electrocution." There must have been another half dozen options that I had no time to read because Oliver, an otherwise good natured man, an ordinary man, hit that purple button.
The screen went blank and behind the glass enclosure, a door slid open and an armed guard emerged. Head to toe in body armor, the guard swung his automatic rifle behind him and grabbed a prisoner sitting with his back against the glass wall. The prisoner hardly seemed to mind being yanked up by his shoulders and dragged out of the zoo-like jail, through the door, and out of sight. The door slid shut. The other prisoners appeared unfazed, resigned to their fate.
Oliver smiled. "It feels good, my man."
"Feels good?"
"Yeah," he said, "it feels good to help your country. Feels good to contribute to the cause in whatever way you can. In school I used to hear a lot about participatory democracy and whatnot. Well, this is it. We're living it today."
Oliver was downright jovial. A black man, happy in an America without the Voting Rights Act, an America with the nascent Freedom Party re-segregating public schools and services throughout large swaths of the South. But there Oliver stood, smitten.
"Time's up," Margaret said from behind me. "Interview's over."
"Where do they take the prisoners?" I asked.
Margaret lit a cigarette, took a drag and blew a puff of smoke from her nostrils. "That's confidential, sweetheart."
We were led to a craps table, where a group of women threw dice and screamed no matter the result. There was lots of screeching and laughing between content generators asking questions about how much these gamblers enjoyed the atmosphere of Atlantic City's Trump Prison Tower and Casino.
One of the women, after rolling a seven that temporarily killed the table's buzz, said she had been to the Prison Tower and Casino in Los Angeles, where prisoners had staged a hunger strike that Margaret said had not been reported for national security purposes, and should remain unreported. The gambler, a white lady firmly in the grips of softening middle age, finished her glass of wine with a flourish and said it was unpleasant to see the starving men lying around in their cages.
"But then you remember that the president promised to kill all their families and it makes you feel better, knowing they'll get what they deserve," she said as another scream came from somewhere.
I was distracted while my fellow content generators were given 60-second interviews with customers. Where were all the glamorous hordes I had seen file into the Prison Tower and Casino? Where were the striking women and exquisitely dressed men who practically reeked of money? The pristine limousines lined up outside this palace of degeneracy hadn't dropped off Oliver and the gaggle of 40-something women shucking it up at the craps table.
I scanned the entire floor for any hint of the man in the diamond sunglasses or the woman whose heel had spiked into my now-throbbing foot. All I saw were regular people: jeans, button-down shirts, semi-formal wear on some of the women, a few guys in casual sports jackets. What I saw was somewhere between working class and middle class, all engaged in the mindless distraction of being expert at chance, all of them ignoring the brown men shackled behind the glass, except when a gambler got tired of gambling and suggested a kind of torture for the people on the other side of the wall.
There was escapism and indifference as far as the eye could see.
I had almost put my quest for the rich folks out of my mind when another content generator, a mustachioed guy named Bruce from Fun Time News, asked Margaret if he could use the bathroom. Margaret considered it for a moment and pointed to the nearest men's room, about a hundred feet down the casino, by the rows of slot machines -- with names like All Lives Matter: The Game and China's Tricky Trading -- ringing and dinging without stop.
Bruce took off, and I slid behind him, knowing that if Margaret caught me, I could be on the wrong end of a bouncer's fist, or his boot, or the piece he surely had tucked away somewhere. But old Margaret had her head down, trying with no luck to spark her lighter for another cigarette that hung from her bright pink lips. Bruce unknowingly escorted me away from the content generating grouping. He swung a left into the men's room and I continued forward, walking as fast as I could without looking like an escaped prisoner -- which, in a very real sense, I was.
Margaret's smoke-ravaged voice could be heard across the casino when she realized I had left my content generating grouping. She yelled something indecipherable and flagged down a bouncer standing solemnly by an ATM. He removed his sunglasses and scanned the floor until he spotted what must have been my petrified stare as I tried without a shred of success to play it cool.
The maze of slot machines would offer some place to run, but I could never hide from the behemoth now striding toward me, his face becoming grimmer by the step. I had but one choice, and even that one seemed destine to fail in a decidedly miserable way: I had to backtrack into the men's room, where Bruce had gone just moments before.
I ran into the bathroom and made a beeline for the long line of stalls, beyond the row of urinals where Bruce had camped out with a dozen other guys. I threw open a stall door, slammed it shut and slid the lock closed. I jumped on the toilet seat and tried to slow my breath and calm my heart, which slammed against my chest so hard I thought it might just burst through.
There was a commotion at the bathroom entrance as the bull entered the pee-stained china shop. The bouncer's footsteps were tremendously loud. I could hear every footfall from my spot on the toilet, even over the constant chatter of casino customers and whatever 80s hair metal song was blasting over the loud speakers. Each one of those almost cartoonish footfalls inspired new fear that flooded my imagination and sent my adrenal glands into a frenzy. What would happen to my poor, faultless face if this guy's fists were anything like his feet?
One bathroom stall door slammed. Then another. Then another. Someone I could hear but not see fled one of the stalls as the marauding bouncer moved down the line, silently terrifying the clientele.
Call it survival instinct -- maybe some sort of firing in the ancient part of my brain whose only concern is staying alive -- but with my potential executor two doors away from my stall, I reached up, managed to pry my fingers beneath the ceiling tile above my head, and yank it loose. I lunged off the toilet that had hid my feet and pulled myself, as best I could, into the space above the bathroom -- whatever was there. My spindly arms could never have pulled off the sort of lift required to get into the above opening, but there just so happened to be fifty gallons of unfiltered adrenaline flooding every inch of my body.
The banging of the bathroom stall doors continued somewhere in the distance as I scurried along the narrow corridor. The space was hot. I banished the thoughts of being in a metal coffin while I crawled further and further into a yawning blackness that, combined with the elevated temperature, felt like an empty version of Hell.
I scurried along on my hands and knees for a long while, and as the barking of the bouncer faded into nothing, a new sound emerged -- this one in front of me. Through the darkness I moved, my mind moving away from the extraordinary physical discomfort to the almost crippling curiosity about what lied ahead of me. There was laughing and screaming, music and chatter, like a half dozen kinds of parties happening on top of each other.
It was an oddly exhilarating mixture of terror and wonderment that gripped me as I fled from the casino area, with its normal people and normal scenes of folks doing what they do in a House of Distraction, toward something that at least sounded foreign, unusual, unseen.
I finally reached the end of the air vent and there sat a small grate. It came off with little effort and below was a familiar scene: another toilet in an open stall. But this bathroom was nothing like the bathroom I had left with a furious bouncer on my heels. This bathroom glowed red, with a strobe effect somewhere in the room. There was no going back. Maybe the bouncer had managed to jam his thick torso through the open vent and was on his way to turn my face into a fine paste. It was too hot to stay in the vent anyway -- my hair was matted onto my forehead and sweat dripped down my neck, onto a shirt that was soaked almost to my navel.
I told myself to stop thinking just as I dropped from the opening in the bathroom ceiling. I landed hard on the toilet seat, bounced off the stall wall, and ended up face first on the floor. I shot up, and after a deep breath and an attempt to redeem my sweat-drenched hair, I walked out of the stall and into the red glow of the room. There by the door stood a butler holding a golden trey with a pile of white, blue, and red tablets. The butler wore what appeared to be a goat mask, with two enormous rubber horns protruding from its head.
I stopped in front of the goat butler, unsure of the protocol. "What's your pleasure?" a man said from underneath the cold stare of the goat thing. I could hardly hear the baritone voice over the unearthly sound coming from behind the bathroom door. The goat-butler motioned toward the pills.
I forced what must have been a terribly awkward smile and said no, thanks.
The goat-butler straightened up and looked straight ahead. “Pleasure is but a perception,” it said.
The noise, when I slowly opened the door, consumed me. The sound invaded my senses: I could hear it and feel it and see it. I swear I could taste it, though in hindsight I can't find words to explain what I mean. It wasn't just the music -- some semblance of heavy house music and electronic notes that bombarded every part of the floor.
What I saw was as assaulting to my senses as what I heard. I was stunned, and not in some figurative sense. I couldn't move. I wouldn't have been more terrified and confused if I had been transported to an alien planet. Because what I saw that night was so deeply inhuman, inhumane, anti-human.
It was a compact area compared to the sprawling casino floor I had left minutes earlier, with a much lower ceiling, below which were about a hundred people -- all adults, most middle aged or older, with a few baby faced men and women sprinkled in. Part of the scene there in this secret room of the Trump Prison Tower and Casino was as ordinary as any highfalutin shindig anywhere elites gather to talk and drink: people clanking glasses, laughing and smiling, leaning in to hear someone's words over the raucous chatter and music.
Nothing more than moneyed folks having a good time fueled by the power of exclusivity.
Other parts of the room were less conventional. There was a bar, tucked away in the corner of the room, composed entirely of bricks of cash, stacked on top of each other underneath a clear case in the shape of a bar. Above the bar, connected to the ceiling, was a cage, and inside that cage sat an emaciated brown-skinned man with a lengthy black beard.
A woman was in the cage with him, dressed in nothing but an American flag thong. Her breasts were bare. Her wavy brown hair flowed across her naked white skin. She writhed to the electronic music that blasted from the myriad speakers wired into the room's walls. The dancing woman would break from her routine to rub the crotch of her stars-and-stripes underwear against the head of the shirtless man, who sat with his head between his legs. His body convulsed as he cried silently. The men at the bar -- there was the guy with diamond sunglasses, drinking straight from a champagne bottle -- hollered when the dancer grinded on her fellow prisoner. Her bright red lips curled into a mischievous smile as she humped the brown man, and the bar mates screamed in delight.
They high fived. They smacked the bar made of money and told the dancer that they loved her, among other things.
Next to the bar was a dense group standing around a clear tube that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The group's anticipation was palpable. I had to see what was in that tube that had attracted a throng of onlooker dressed in clothes that probably cost more than the rent I paid to live in a flat with two fellow content generators. Terrified of being spotted by any of the elites who gathered in this secret spot in the Trump Prison Tower and Casino, I lowered my head and took a few steps toward the crowd.
There, by the skinny clear tube with a vent for a floor, a bouncer donning the familiar leather jacket escorted a man dressed in rags toward a door at the front of the tube. It swung open and the man -- a grey and brown beard, hair knotted in greasy dreadlocks, the back of his long-sleeved shirt ripped from one armpit to the bottom -- entered with some trepidation. The bouncer whispered something to him and closed the door. The disheveled man, his eyes round as saucers, stared back at the beautiful people waiting, watching.
There was very suddenly money everywhere -- dollar bills being blown around the clear tube by some unseen fan, perhaps underneath the vented floor. The bills went this way and that and the onlookers let out mocking cheers as the bearded man reluctantly snatched the bills out of the air. He lazily stuffed them in his pocket and plucked a few more from in front of his face. Then the man got into the little exercise -- this lonely cash grab -- and began leaping to nab the bills that had floated well above his head. He jumped and fell to the floor, where he scooped up some of the fallen bills. His pockets stuffed to the brim with cash, the man in the tube let out a joyous laugh. It was greeted by a loud mocking cheer from his fans, who were very clearly waiting for something to happen: something beyond this silly one-person game.
My efforts to remain inconspicuous in this foreign land of elites and their behind-closed-doors games ended when the money grab ended. The man in the tube smiled and pumped his fists, clutching wads of money, when the swirling bills dropped in unison and a blinding orange flame exploded from the vent at the bottom of the tube. The crowd swayed back as one unit as the heat of the flame bathed the entire floor.
It roared for no more than three seconds, but it seemed to me, seated on the floor after falling back, that the burst of heat went on for an hour.
The fire subsided and a crispy corpse lay on its back at the bottom of the tube. The onlookers let out screams of delight, like children at a birthday party. Some pointed at the charred remains of the poor dead man and laughed until they collapsed into each other. Others screamed at the dead man. Still others smirked and moved to the bar area, off in search of another drink.
I couldn't rip my gaze away from the blackened skeletal corpse in the tube. Smoke wafted off of his midsection. His face had melted off. Head tilted, he stared off into the beyond. His fists were still balled tight, holding whatever remained of the cash he had gripped in the waning moments of his life.
That's just about when I backed into the woman in the red, sparkly dress and the spike-heels that had drilled into my foot an hour earlier at the entrance of the Trump Prison Tower and Casino. She did a double take. I could see in her dark eyes outlined with a thick layer of liner that she was drunk. They were unfocused, wandering around until they fixed on my face, as I remained firmly planted on the floor.
The lady in red yelled something incoherent and pointed at me. "He's a, he's a," she stopped and pulled in the air required to belt the words over the throbbing music, "CONTENT GENERATOR."
The music died a second later. The roaring chatter stopped. The laughing ceased. The smell of the scorched skeleton wafted by.
And then the bouncers, all four of them, rushed toward me, their faces twisted into some strange combination of panic and fury. I had no illusions that I could outrun these fiends; they were all tall with lean athletic builds, with strides to rival a racehorse. I could see one bouncer's hamstring muscles through his pants. I'm just a guy with no discernable physical prowess. I was the fourth fastest person on my own softball team in those days.
But I had to try.
I took off in the only bouncer-less direction, as two of the enforcers came from the same spot on the casino floor. I barreled through a trio of men and saw the diamond-encrusted glasses fall to the floor as their owner fell backward, grabbed a cocktail waitress in a vain attempt to stay upright, taking her down with him. Drinks flew everywhere. I was splashed with what smelled like a very good whiskey.
An old man with a handlebar mustache flexed his knees and extended his arms as I approached two blackjack tables. I couldn't dodge the would-be tackler so I ran through him -- quite easily, thanks to the terror that compelled me. The mustachioed man smashed against the edge of the blackjack table to the horrified gasps of a woman many years his junior.
I came to a door -- a door I hadn't seen before my flee to freedom -- and did not hesitate to turn its handle and barge through. I had precisely one choice, and that was it. A hand grabbed the back of my shirt before I slammed the door on the attached arm. I did not hear a scream of pain because the place I had entered was deafening with the hollering of men in a frenzy -- a primal, animalistic frenzy that I still think about, all these years later.
Twenty, maybe twenty-five men, dressed as gorgeously as those in the adjacent room, stood on a balcony. Twenty feet below the crazed mob was a metal table with a man strapped to it, his arms and legs pulled taught by leather straps connected to each corner of the table. One look at the man, now stripped down to a tight pair of white underwear, told me I had seen him before. It was the man who had been hauled off from the main casino floor. I had interviewed the man -- good old well-meaning Oliver -- who had pushed the button that summoned someone to take this prisoner into an unseen room.
The mob of men leaning across and over each other, trying like hell to get a good look at the festivities below, seemed to be betting on what was about to transpire. I'm not sure what exactly they wagered on, but their monkey-like gesticulation and the way they clutched hundred dollar bills and waved their cash at each other told me they were deadly serious about what was coming.
"Waterboard his ass!" one man screeched over the others.
"Fry him!" another one yelled. "Give him the juice!"
It was dark in that room. I remember three or four floodlights pointing down at the prisoner on the table, but the faces of the men on the balcony were darkened, invisible, anonymous -- as if they could've been any one of us. That struck me right in what I can only describe as a slow motion moment, with a group of rage-filled beasts on my heels, seemingly trapped with nowhere to go. The balcony bellowers swayed as one, furious and aroused and intoxicated on the prospect of human suffering. That was their drug and they were stoned.
I was reintroduced to real time with a swift fist to the cheekbone. It felt as if my brain rattled inside my skull when that enormous hand of a bouncer swung and smashed into my face. The bouncer grabbed for me -- my arm, and once that slipped, my hand -- but it was too late. The momentum from his punch sent me reeling toward the edge of the balcony. My hand and fingers slipped through his grip and off I went, over the rail of the balcony and hurdling toward the floor below.
I had a distinct thought, while tumbling through the air of that tucked-away torture chamber in the Trump Prison Tower and Casino, that I should protect my head at all costs. But there was the ground, as unforgiving as it ever was. And there was a crack, somewhere near my left shoulder, which took the brunt of the fall.
The drive to survive is a hell of a drug, so I was up in an instant, frantically scanning the area for a way out. The balcony crowd was back at it, screaming with neck veins bulging and fists shaking toward the interloper in their presence.
A door slid open, somewhere in the round room. I jumped this way and that, looking for the source of the sound, which I could hardly hear over the finely-dressed animals twenty feet above me.
"Kill him!" two voices from the balcony screamed in unison.
It's not often that someone in immediate danger can look ahead and see the potential punishment for his misdeeds. But there I was, frozen in place, looking at a frail brown-skinned man stretched out on a shining metal table. He looked at me too. Our eyes met with an instant, and I'm sure he saw in mine the panic and fear he once had, whenever he had been black bagged at whichever camp he was held in, or while hiding from the roving federal agents who blended so seamlessly into society.
In his eyes I saw surrender, despair, and concession. The prisoner was powerless, at the whims of the powerful: the powers that committed the torture, and the powers that cheered while it happened, who wagered on what sort of misery he would experience. That poor man surely knew that one power could not exist without the other.
But back to the door: my only way out. I held my throbbing left arm in place - something broken jostled around - and rushed the opening. The two men standing there, dressed in military fatigues with the familiar red-and-black T patch on their chests, reached for the weapons on their hips. I attacked one over the other, and I suppose I picked the one with eyeglasses because they made him look weak and vulnerable. He was a good bit shorter than the other one too.
I tackled the bespectacled soldier and without a thought, bit his neck as hard as I could. I tasted blood. The man screamed just as the mob on the balcony quieted. The other soldier fired a shot, then another. One bullet sunk into his partner's chest. The other grazed my already damaged left arm and drilled deep into the soldier's hip. He yelped again as I rolled off of him and scrambled through the sliding door.
That's how I remember it, anyway.
To say that the rest was a blur would give too much credit to the clarity of a blur. I felt blinded by pain and fear. I knew what happens to content generators who violate principles of the New First Amendment. My crimes would offer no chance at life in prison. A far more terrible fate awaited me if I were tracked down by the security forces scrambling to find me inside the Trump Prison Tower and Casino.
I ran. I pushed through people. I believe I hurdled a craps table. My head on a swivel, I smashed into a slot machine with the USSR hammer and sickle blinking furiously. I may have seen our tour guide, old Margaret, in the corner of my eye as I sprinted through the main casino floor. People screamed. People threw cups and food and poker chips at me. An alarm sounded somewhere.
My next memory - one I'm sure of, anyway - was of passing in and out of consciousness in an alleyway a few blocks from the Trump Prison Tower and Casino. The adrenaline pumping through my veins had run its course and I was left to deal with the resulting hangover and the agony of a broken arm gushing blood from the graze of a point-blank bullet. I could hardly lift my chin off my chest. I was drenched and sweat. I shuddered with every gust of a bitter autumn breeze.
I could hear the echoes of alarms screaming from outside the sprawling casino. The occasional siren woke me from my drifting. A police car with its sirens blazing ripped past the alley and toward the casino. Then another. Then another.
I suppose I succumbed and drifted off from the combination of exhaustion and blood loss. I was awoken with a jostle of my shattered arm. I figured this was the end. They had found me and I was as good as dead.
But no, it was a man wearing a faded orange Baltimore Orioles hat and dressed in layers of filthy clothes. He offered me a mostly toothless smile. Beside him stood an equally unkempt lady, probably much younger than she looked. Her face was dirty and she wore stained grey sweatpants tucked into mismatched shoes: one laceless brown boot and one white sneaker. She smiled too, lips pursed.
"You need some help?" the man said, tugging at the thick brown coat draped atop his layers.
I shook my head and broke eye contact. The woman held out a half empty bottle of water. I felt bad taking her offer, knowing that bottled water was a luxury outside of the most well-to-do cities and towns. But I drank greedily from the bottle until nothing was left.
The man stepped away from us and peaked around the corner of the building on which I leaned, squinting to see the Trump Prison Tower and Casino through a thickening night fog.
He removed his orange hat and scratched his bald head. "Sure hope nothing too bad happened at the casino tonight."
"Oh, lord. Me too," the woman said. "The president would be so upset." She shook her head and gave me a look of distress.
"God damn right," the man said. "I voted for that man twice."
Her grimace transformed into a grin. "And I'd do it again."
"Damn straight."
I steadied myself against the wall and walked away, into the blackness of the dank alley. It was so dark, and darker with every step. But there was nowhere else I could go, so I walked, until it was full dark.
*From the American Empire Museum archives.
***Special Guest C.D. Carter with a not-so-short story***
#Welcome to Trump Prison Tower and Casino#President Trump#Trump#Donald Trump#prison planet#politics#liberals#republicans#protest#journalism#executive order#immigration#taxes#CDCarter13#guest#short story#not so short story#story#stories#CDCarter
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Twenty4 Fire and Security Introduce the Smart Plan
At Twenty4 Fire and Security, our objective is to support the businesses we work with, offering an affordable, easy way to protect their premises against the risk of fire, burglary and vandalism.
However, we have found that budget plays a huge part in the level of protection a business can invest in. With company budgets tight, seldom do businesses have the cash to cover themselves to the standard they wish. What’s more is that dealing with various suppliers and contractors can be a real headache; one many companies just do not have the time for.
Seeing a great deal of businesses insufficiently covered and not compliant, we wanted to help.
Therefore, we created the Smart Plan; a smart way for businesses to cover themselves.
What is the Smart Plan?
A Smart Plan is a short-term contract whereby businesses can manage all of their fire and security services, dealing with one supplier and more importantly; one monthly cost.
Covering a wide range of maintenance, safety and compliance services, you can create one plan with the all or some of the following included:
Professional fire risk assessments
A fire risk assessment is a legal obligation for the majority of British business premises as well as buildings the public can access. These assessments need to be carried out every year by a responsible person and again if alterations have been made.
Fire alarm maintenance
Fire alarm systems need to comply with BS5839-Part 1, meaning they need to be maintained by a professional engineer at least every 6 months.
Emergency lighting maintenance
Emergency lighting systems permit the safe escape from a building in the event of an emergency. BS5266-Part 1 requires emergency lighting systems to be tested every month. This is as well as a full discharge test to be carried out by a professional annually.
Fire extinguisher maintenance
Fire extinguishers need to serviced regularly to ensure they are always in good working order and function correctly when required. It is the responsibility of a business owner or ‘responsible person’ to ensure extinguishers are serviced in accordance to the BS 5306-3:2009.
PAT testing
Portable appliance testing needs to be carried out by a qualified inspector every year. This is to ensure appliances are safe to use for everyone.
Disable refuge maintenance
Disabled Refuge systems are a vital tool for emergency services. The system allows them to make contact with people who may have trouble exiting a building in an emergency. These systems are often left idle, but should be inspected by a professional regularly to ensure they function properly.
Disable toilet alarm maintenance
Disabled Toilet alarm systems are common in the workplace and premises open to the public. Thankfully they are rarely used, but when needed it is vital that these operate correctly. Due to the location of these systems they are often misused. Our toilet alarm maintenance plans ensure that these systems remain operational and we are able to identify system failures that may otherwise go unnoticed.
Nurse call maintenance
Twenty4 have installed and maintained Nurse call systems in a wide range of premises, including Nursing homes, Hospitals and medical centres. They are often used daily and due to heavy usage, we often find damaged, and faulty components. Our maintenance plans can ensure system failures are identified and rectified at the earliest possible date.
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Fire Door retainers allow Fire doors to be propped open, for day to day use. They can be very convenient for businesses, but most importantly they operate following the activation of the Fire Alarm system, closing the Fire door during a fire to maintain that vital fire barrier.
Fire door inspection
Fire doors are vital to help reduce the spread of fire in a building. They act as a barrier during a fire and are vital to ensure a safe exit during an emergency. They are often found to be damaged due to wear and tear, which can sacrifice the integrity of the fire barrier. Fire doors are required to have annual checks by a qualified professional to identify any faults.
Staff safety training
Whether its Fire safety training, a first Aid refresher, asbestos awareness or even working at height, we have the online training solution for you.
Fire marshal training
At Twenty4 we offer fire Marshal training at a location to suit you. The Fire marshal training course covers the role of the designated fire marshal. You will learn about preventing fires and learn how to select the correct fire extinguisher and how to use it safely
Intruder alarm maintenance and monitoring
Intruder alarm systems require regular maintenance. We advise an annual maintenance visit for audible-only intruder alarm systems and 6-monthly maintenance visits for monitored intruder alarms.
CCTV maintenance
CCTV Systems require regular maintenance to ensure they perform to their optimum level. It is also Vital that the system is still compliant with the Data protection act. Under the Data Protection Act, every organisation that holds personal information has to register with the ICO.
Hearing induction loop maintenance
Hearing induction loops are essential for those with hearing difficulties., needed to be tested annually to ensure they continue to work effectively.
Access Control Maintenance
Access control maintenance is essential. The systems are Vital for controlling and managing access to a secure premise. When neglected these systems can fail. We advise Maintenance visits annually for your access control systems, to ensure ongoing reliability and control.
Electric gates/barrier maintenance
Electric Gates, roller shutters and barriers are an essential security system for some business, however it is vital that these remain safe. Maintenance is required for all automated Gates, shutters and barriers in the workplace, to ensure they meet health and safety requirements.
Automatic doors and turnstiles maintenance
Automatic Doors and turnstiles are sometimes essential for business. They can be used for both security and an Aid for the disabled. It is vital these remain safe, therefor we advise that automatic doors and turnstiles are maintained 6 monthly to ensure optimum performance and to identify any possible safety risks that may arise from every day wear and tear.
Safety sign compliance survey
Safety signage in the workplace is mandatory, but are often found to be incorrectly sited or even vandalised. Therefore, Twenty4 carry out annual site surveys to ensure your premises remains compliant.
Asset management tool
Managing your systems can be time-consuming. We have developed an asset management tool to ensure all your systems are automatically checked and serviced on time.
And, the more services you combine; the bigger the savings coming your way.
The benefits to investing in a Smart Plan are huge. From saving a considerable amount of money to enjoying faster turnaround times and generally a tighter service. Having one contact that covers everything gives businesses the peace of mind that they covered and doing all they can to protect their business, staff, customers and building.
Why choose us for your fire and security needs?
As well as boasting years of experience in the world of fire and security, we are one of the only companies of our kind striving for competitive solutions, helping businesses of all industries, sizes and sectors. From nursing homes and schools to small start-ups, our customer list is wonderfully diverse.
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If you are looking to get your business up to scratch regarding fire safety and security, contact the Twenty4 Fire and Security team today.
We look forward to hearing from you!
The post Twenty4 Fire and Security Introduce the Smart Plan appeared first on Fire & Security. http://twenty-4.co.uk/
from Fire & Security https://twenty-4.co.uk/twenty4-fire-and-security-introduce-the-smart-plan/
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