#then i ended up getting a clean screenshot of their license plate

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[wildmichaelflower]

Too Young, Too Dumb - College!SOS PT. 1

Word Count - 1.6k

Warnings - Slight swearing

Luke groaned as his alarm went off, interrupting the peaceful sleep he had been having. Sitting up, he turned it off before going to his select his outfit for the day. Once dressed, he went to go make a coffee to go, biting his lip when he was greeted by the sight of his roommate Michael slumped over the table, a cup of coffee gone cold in front of his laptop. Luke gave his shoulders a couple shakes and whisper-shouted his name, watching the other man grumble to life.

“Mike, it’s 7 am. How long have you been sitting here?”

“Well,” he yawned, “I got off work at ten, stopped at McDonald’s, got home by ten-thirty-ish.” He took a pause to rub his face, “I took a shower, then came out here, so eight hours?” He took a sip from his mug, immediately spitting the contents back out, “That tastes like shit..”

“Well, that’s eight hour old coffee for you,” Luke sighed as he prepared his roommate a fresh cup.

“Nah, more like five hours. I remember making some around two and everything after that is a blur. I passed out around four, I think?” He yawns again.

“How do you expect to pass classes if you can’t stay awake in them?” Luke sighed as he set the mug down.

“I think the bigger issue here is that you’re still expecting me to go to my classes.” Michael mumbled as he eagerly picked up the mug.

“Dude, come on,” Luke gave a hard look, “You’re on a full ride, do you want to throw that away?”

Michael groaned, not in the mood to have this conversation, especially this early in the morning, but he also had to acknowledge that Luke was right.

“Ok,” He sighed, “My first class isn’t until eleven so I’m going to sleep until ten.”

“And your homework is all done?”

“Yep,” Michael grinned sleepily and finished his coffee before placing the mug in the sink. He picked up his laptop and its charger before heading towards his bedroom.

Luke shook his head before continuing to make his breakfast, humming softly as he made his plate. He poured himself a mug of coffee, then sat down to eat his fried eggs and turkey bacon with a side of mixed fruit. He unlocked his phone and began to scroll through Twitter, keeping an eye on any important headlines to bring up during his night class. He got extra credit if the class discussed something he brought up, not that he wanted or needed it, he just thought the conversations were important. After screenshotting a few articles, he finished the remnants of his breakfast before going to load the dishes into the dishwasher. He decided against running it, not wanting to break the silence in case Michael wasn’t asleep yet. 

He quietly went to pack up his bag, making sure he had the appropriate books and chargers for his laptop and phone. Sure, he was coming back after his second class, but it never hurt to be prepared.

He headed back to the living room, grabbing his keys from the coffee table before slipping on his shoes. He left a note on the counter for Michael, reminding him to take his meds, before heading out. As he was locking up, he smiled as he watched his neighbor also lock her door. 

"Morning," he said, biting his lip as she jumped, "Sorry if I scared you." 

"Yeah, you did," she smiled sheepishly as she ran a hand through her hair, "Didn't think anyone else was crazy enough to be awake and moving at 8 am." 

He laughs and nods, "Yeah, it's not for the weak, but someone has to make sure the world turns. I'm Luke by the way," he sticks his hand out, smiling as she takes it.

 "Carina," she smiled as she introduced herself, shaking his hand, before pulling away and heading to the steps, "So what's your plan for keeping the world turning?" 

He grinned, "I work the front desk of the student union. Gotta make sure people have their popcorn." 

She laughed and nods in agreement, the student union desk sold other things, but popcorn was easily it's most popular product. 

"And what about you?" He smiled. 

"I work at the bookstore, where, once the semester settles, people buy anything but books."

Luke laughed at that and nodded understandingly, "Guilty." 

"Aren't we all?" She smiled and opened the front door to the building. 

They walked out together, and Luke grabbed his keys from his pocket when he noticed her leaving the parking lot. 

"Want a ride?" He asked as he unlocked his car.

Carina stopped and turned around, biting her lip.

"You seem nice, but how can I trust you? We just met." 

Luke bit his lip, he honestly didn't think she should walk to campus, but he should've known what it would've looked like. 

"I'll let you drive?" He offered awkwardly, smiling as she laughed. 

"And I was thinking I trusted too easily," she smiled, debating with herself on whether or not to accept the offer. 

Granted, she just met this guy, but he was cute, in an awkward but doing his best kind of way, and didn't seem to pick up any bad vibes from him. She would play a test on him, and if he passed, then she would get in with him. 

"Before I get in, could I take a picture of the license plate and send it to my friend?" She pulled her phone out. 

Luke nodded, "Of course, anything that helps you feel comfortable." He smiled before getting into his car.

Carina smiled to herself, thanking the internet for giving her the clever idea then took a couple pictures of the back of the car before updating her best friend. 

Getting a ride from school from my neighbor, never met him before today but he seems nice! Just in case, here's some info.

She sent the pictures before getting into the car, surprised by how clean it was.

"Offer still stands if you want to drive," he smiles. 

She laughs but shakes her head, "I don't think you're pretty face can handle the speeds I drive at."

He chuckled and pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards the campus. It wasn't a long drive, just a few blocks, but with the temperature dropping, Luke felt better giving rides to people.

"So, what's your major?" Carina asked. 

"Business economics," he smiled, "and yours?" 

"Social studies education, with a minor in political science. I'm guessing your minor is something like mathematics or international relations. That's a common one for you business majors, that or Spanish." 

He laughed, much to her surprise, but he was used to people assuming those kind of things out of him.

"Actually, my minor is gender and women's studies."

"Wow.. what made you choose that?" 

"Well I took one class freshman year about history and social structures from the perspective of women to fill the diversity requirement, and I was hooked." 

Carina nodded, smiling at this new insight of her neighbor.

"Your partner is very lucky."

Luke blushed and bit his lip, "I, um, I don't have a girlfriend." 

"Really?" Luke wasn't her type but she was surprised, he had a good heart, a good looking future. How could there not be anyone for him?

He shrugged, "College has kept me busy, but who knows, this could be my year." He smiled hopefully. 

Carina couldn't help but returning his smile, while also running through a list of her friends that might be a good match for her neighbor.

Luke made another turn towards the bookstore, stopping at the dead end next to the building. 

Carina got her bag and smiled, "Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it." 

"Of course! With the weather dropping I don't mind giving people rides, I rather them be safe. If you want to make this a regular thing, you know where I live?" He winked jokingly. 

She laughed and nodded, "I'll let you know." She pulled her phone out and opened it to Snapchat, "You should add me." 

He nodded, pulling his phone out and snapping a picture of her code, smiling as the request went through. 

She slid her phone back in her pocket, "Cool, now we'll be best friends," she joked before getting out, "Thanks again for the ride!" 

She closed the door then started to walk to the entrance, smiling as Luke didn't leave until he was sure she was inside. 

Luke smiled as he made his way out of the dead end, heading to the parking ramp where he kept his car during the day.

Once he parked, he grabs his bag and travel mug then heads to work.

He greets his coworkers next to him in the printing shop as he set his things down before sitting at the desk. He then logged onto the computer and got the desk ready for the day. He knew it would be hours until the building would be busy, now it was just professors and a student or two waiting to grab coffee. 

Luke pulled his laptop out, his boss didnt mind when he or his coworkers did homework on the job, as long as they paid attention to customers. An email popped up in his notifications, reminding him that his night class would begin the final presentations that week. It's not that Luke was unprepared, his presentation had been ready since that weekend, but he had some nerves about speaking in front of the class. 

He made a mental note to go over his presentation one more time, then opened a word document to the paper he had been working on.

[blurry-fics]

Chapter Fourteen

Realize That It’s Gone | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1829

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)) (picture credit)

“I should probably get going,” I said.

The sky was starting to grow dark, pink just barely visible on the edges of the few clouds that dotted the sky. Y/N and I were still in the same spot on the porch, plates and all. We had spent the last few hours just talking, although after Y/N had brought up her date with Josh, we had decided to stay away from any more serious topics.

“Already?” she asked.

“It’s getting late.”

She started to protest, but eventually closed her mouth and nodded. I leaned forward and stood up, dusting a bit of dirt off the back of my - well, Carter’s - shorts. My arm felt cold where it had been pressed against Y/N’s.

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

I held a hand out to Y/N and helped her stand up. She collected the plates that we had left behind and led me inside. While she put them in the sink, I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my keys from where they were beside the door.

“Don’t leave yet, Ty!” she called from the kitchen.

“I’m not!”

She came down the hallway a few moments later, hastily wiping her hands off on her shorts.

“I just wanted to say thanks for coming over today,” she smiled. “I had a really nice time.”

“I did too,” I said, returning her smile. “And I’m sorry about earlier… you know, with the-”

“It’s fine. I’m just getting in my own head about this whole situation when really it’s pretty simple.”

My stomach twisted a little, “Right.”

“Um, so I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

I held out my arms. Y/N looked at me for a second before her mouth curled into a smile and she happily crashed into me, wrapping her arms tightly around my torso. All the worries that had been bothering me just seconds before suddenly seemed to disappear as I held her close to me.

“Drive safe,” she mumbled into my shoulder.

“I always do.”

She finally let go of me and opened the front door, letting in a gust of warm air. I slowly made my way down the path that led to the driveway, letting all of the day’s events play out in my head again. It was impossible to keep the smile off my face.

*     *     *

The apartment was empty when I arrived home, making the front door echo an eerie amount as I shut it behind me. Josh had left a note on the counter, saying that he had gone out with some friends and would be back late. I couldn’t help the small smile that formed on my face. Although I liked living with Josh - at least, when he wasn’t making a move on Y/N - I had missed having an apartment to myself to work on music or do whatever my heart desired without anyone else making comments.

My first order of business was changing into my own clothes. Having a pair of Carter’s old shorts cinched around my hips wasn’t exactly my first choice for lounging around the apartment in. I grabbed a clean pair from my closet and pulled them on in place of the old ones. Carter’s shirt also ended up in the hamper, but I didn’t grab a new one. The apartment was oddly warm today and, well, there was nobody home to tell me that I needed to put a shirt on, anyway.

“Alright, let’s see what tonight’s dinner options are,” I said as I opened the fridge.

There were a couple boxes of leftover food that Josh had brought home, some random ingredients, and more cans of various drinks than I could count, but nothing caught my eye. With a sigh, I shut the fridge and decided to try the freezer, hoping there would be something other than just ice cream tucked away. As I soon found out, there was an unopened bag of chicken strips sitting just inside. Josh’s name wasn’t clearly marked anywhere on the bag, either, meaning they were fair game.

I turned the oven on to preheat, laid my chicken strips out on a baking sheet, and shuffled over to the couch to wait for the moment when I would be able to stick them in the oven. Until then, my plan was to find a movie that I could watch to keep my mind from overthinking the time I had spent with Y/N today. Things had seemed flirty between us, but maybe I was just overanalyzing all our interactions. After all, I was the one who had initiated most of it.

Then again, she had been pretty receptive to my advances, if you could even call them that.

I shook my head, frustrated that I had let my thoughts start to run away again. Y/N and I were friends, that was all. Friends could share physical contact and not have there be any hidden meaning behind it. I had made my choice to stay silent about my feelings, and I had to stick with it, no matter how badly I wanted to go back on what I said. That wasn’t fair to them.

Not wanting to sit with my thoughts any longer, I quickly switched over to my favorites playlist and clicked on the first one in the list. That would guarantee that I wouldn’t get bored and let my mind start to wander again, or at least, that’s what I hoped would happen.

The movie had hardly been playing for a few minutes when my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. I scooped up the remote from where I had tossed it and paused the movie.

“What’s up?”

“Hi,” Y/N said. She sounded flustered. “Sorry about calling. I was going to text, but then Georgie got into the bathroom and managed to string toilet paper all over the house so this was easier.”

“All over the house?”

“Yes! I went into my room for a few minutes to get changed and when I came back he had made a mess. I don’t even know how he ran that fast! Not to mention that he’s going through and shredding parts of it as I’m following his trail and cleaning it up.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine. Although I will admit that I’m really starting to wish that I had convinced my parents to get a dog instead.”

“Dogs still make messes, you know.”

“Yeah, but they also snuggle with you.”

“Not worth it.”

“Your opinion doesn’t count because you don’t like animals,” Y/N giggled.

“Ok, whatever. Why were you calling me?”

“Oh, right! You just left your wet clothes here and I was wondering what you wanted me to do with them.”

“Do you mind hanging on to them for awhile? I can pick them up in the next few days.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem! I’ll even wash them for you so they don’t smell like gross car soap.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” I smiled. “I really appreciate that.”

“Yeah, anyway, that’s all I had to call you about.”

I was about to say something when the oven started beeping, announcing that it was finished preheating. With my phone still in my hand, I got up to stick my chicken strips in.

“What is that?” Y/N asked. “Is the fire alarm going off?”

“No, no,” I laughed. “It’s just the oven finishing preheating.”

“Oven? Preheating? Tyler… are you cooking?”

“Shockingly enough, yes.”

“Tour really changed you, huh? A few months ago I had to take you grocery shopping and now you’re making yourself dinner.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

There’s a lot of things I couldn’t have done without you.

“I’m glad that I was able to teach you to be a functioning adult,” she laughed. The phone crackled a bit and my mind immediately snapped back to late nights on tour, staying up talking to Y/N until one of the crew members got mad and told me to go to bed. I was always cracking jokes to try and get her to laugh, just so I could hear it.

“I am too.”

“Anyway, you’re making dinner. I’m cleaning up after my cat. I really didn’t mean to interrupt your night, I can leave you to it now.”

“I really don’t mind, Y/N. You know I like talking to you.”

“I know, I know. I just need to clear my head. Go sit on the porch for awhile, maybe.”

I smiled to myself, “That’s all you had to say.”

“I’ll text you later tonight.”

“That sounds great.”

“Later, Ty. Try not to burn the apartment down.”

“I’ll try my best. Bye, Y/N.”

I set my phone down and began to drum my fingers along the counter, trying to decide what I wanted to do. My movie no longer seemed appealing, especially after that phone call. Y/N was the only thing on my mind now.

An idea suddenly popped into my head and I rushed down the hall to my room. My laptop was sitting on top of my dresser, like usual, so I quickly picked it up and carried it back out to the kitchen so that I could keep an eye on the chicken strips. One password and a few clicks later, I had the folder of photos of Y/N and I open.

I wasn’t nearly as sentimental as Y/N - far from it, actually - but I did enjoy looking back on old photos of us from time to time. Looking back at pictures of us from the start of our friendship never failed to put a smile on my face, especially when I thought about how much closer we had gotten since the pictures were taken.

I slowly clicked through the album, taking in all of the pictures. There were ones of us at my basketball games, no doubt taken by my mom, selfies that Y/N had forced me to take in the car shortly after I got my license, screenshots of times that we were having particularly funny text conversations, and a number of other random photos from things we had done together. She had been by my side since day one, no matter what arguments we got into or what people tried to get in between us. She never gave up on me.

So why in the world was I giving up on her?

I loved her. Even after all my attempts to get over her and all the nights telling myself that I would never be good enough, I loved her. I would never let myself live it down if I didn’t tell her how I truly felt. Y/N meant everything to me and then some. Even if nothing came of it and she still chose Josh, I knew what I had to do.

I had to tell her. And I had to do it soon.

*     *     *     *     *

Taglist

@faceofcontvsions​ @ohprettyweeper​ @tylersheavydirtysoul​ @topownsmyheart​ @schrodingersjustine​ @heythereitm3​ @leam-2001​ @breadbinishigh​ @wearebxnditos​ @iguessimsatan @harishaanne​ @5secondsofmoxley​ @patdsinner33​ @littlerachelbee​ @iamnotawasteofspace​ @nostalgic1975​ @fruityfreddie​ @gaysludge​

[gwaciechang]

Love Run (9/15)

“And as the world comes to an end I’ll be here to hold your hand ‘Cause you’re my king and I’m your lionheart.”

This chapter is written entirely from Bobby’s POV and will contain no fluff whatsoever. Spoilers for the episode “Run Rabbit Run” of Stan Lee’s Lucky Man are all over this part. I’ve also tried my best to be inclusive by avoiding Robin’s name, and by using gender neutral pronouns whenever possible, which might not be the pronouns you use. I’ve also changed Chloe’s name to Maisie because “Chloe Choi” looks super weird to me when it’s written out. There is also a near-relapse for Bobby, as well as references to a stabbing murder, implications of prostitution, mention of human trafficking, and implications of dismemberment.

@wackiekebab @sunflowergrlpwr @danilanidingdong @scratching-wingless-thing @farewellfelidae @whatevermonkey @the-winter-witcher  

Bobby jerked up at the sound of the gunshot, heart almost ready to pound out of his chest. He strained his ears, but he couldn’t hear anyone over the screaming of other people who also heard the gunshot. It took one count of six off the bed, two counts of six to the door, three counts of six down the stairs, and four counts of six to the tire tracks and glitter on the ground. It took nine counts of ten before he could kneel down and pick up the pieces of Robin’s phone.

One, two, three, four-wait. He looked at the pieces in his hand. Except for the glass screen, they were all whole. Phones don’t shatter like that, he thought, breaking into their individual components. Someone specifically designed this phone to break in a way that, if he could put all the pieces back together, would be returned to perfect working order. He spent nearly three hundred counts looking for the pieces before going back inside.

The world fell away, silent, as he worked. By the time the sun came up, he realized he didn’t have the SD card. But he couldn’t possibly have missed it, he’d practically combed the ground. Just as he was about to go back outside and look for it again, the phone rang.

Without the memory card of stored contacts, the screen just showed the number, so he had no idea who he was answering. “Hello?”

“Robert Hayes, where the fuck is my youngest sibling?”

His throat closed up at the idea of talking to a lady he’d never met. But Maisie had agreed to store hard drugs, to lend her car to take him to a methadone clinic, and most importantly, had previously gone to extraordinary lengths to find the person he was looking for, too. “Someone with a gun took them. I didn’t see who, I just heard the gunshot, and there are tire tracks next to where I found the pieces of their phone. I didn’t find any blood,” He could feel bruises forming on his arms from how hard he was tapping.

Someone typed frantically on the other side of the line. “Turn your computer on.”

“W-what?” he had been expecting her to scream abuse at him, to which he would respond with endless apologies.

Maisie hissed something under her breath before saying, “You put the phone together, so you’re clearly very good at technology. You looked for blood on the ground, so you care about Robin’s wellbeing. Now, go to your lab or office or whatever, and turn your computer on. I’ve just emailed you a map of the area with convenience stores and banks highlighted, since they’re the most likely to have working security cameras. I already logged the kidnapping with the MET and I’m in the process of registering myself as lead investigator, so I need you to make a detective inspector’s ID for me. You can pull any picture of me within the year.”

“How did you-”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, have the footage loaded and ready.”

Having clear instructions helped immensely. He knew how to hack into cameras, he knew how to analyze security camera footage, and he knew how to make fake identification cards. He would be able to help Maisie find Robin, because the alternative was unacceptable. 99% of kidnappings ended in death within 24 hours, and the clock was ticking.

The camera from the front gate ran out of battery in the middle of his download.

The footage from the bank was useless, due to a large food truck passing in front of the camera.

The footage from the first convenience store was useless because of the same food truck. The camera from second convenience store was knocked into a different angle before he could see anything useful. When he got to the footage from the third store and discovered some sort of interference distorting it, he stood up to go to Maisie’s car for his emergency stash.

“Robert, I’m coming in,” Maisie called as she unlocked the door. Bobby felt angry for a second before relief flooded his system. She’d probably saved his life, and Robin’s, by extension.

Bobby checked the time. “You’re late,” he said. “You said twenty minutes, that was more than forty minutes ago. Do you not care?”

“I had to see a friend,” she said cryptically. “You have the footage?”

“Yes, and I’ve isolated the time frame we need, but they’re all obscured.” He’s tapping and counting, everything smelled like blood, any second Pearl was going to ask what was wrong with him, and once she knew she wouldn’t allow him to help her look for Robin, and he couldn’t-

“What do you mean, obscured?” Maisie motioned for him to sit down next to her without making a single move to touch him.

“There’s always something blocking it, or moving the camera. Here, some bird knocked into the camera. Here, there’s interference from a different device. Here, here, and here, there’s a food truck!” his voice echoed off the wall. Oh god, he’d been shouting.

“Show me the last one with the delivery truck,” Maisie spoke like he hadn’t said anything. “Aaaaaand pause, look,” she pointed to the reflection of the cars on the other side of the food truck from the store across the street. “Screenshot all those license plates.”

Bobby just stared at her for a few seconds. Was this what it felt like to have a reasonable voice in one’s head, instead of a voice that screamed out for heroin?

“Now, please,” she didn’t raise her voice, but it echoed through his head all the same, and he could only obey. It only took a few seconds, which he felt a little bit proud of. “Do you have a way of finding out who drives each of those vehicles from here?” she asked once he was done.

“I can find out from here,” he was already running the program when he spoke.

“I need to make a call. And don’t bother trying to take your heroin while I’m gone, I already went into my car and put it where you’ll never find it. Well, probably,” Maisie took out her phone and pressed a single key. “Laurie? It’s Maisie Choi. I need you to listen carefully.”

The rest of the conversation was too muffled to hear, but Bobby didn’t care, because he had a list of several names. He pulled out his phone and dialed the nice detective.

“Is everything alright, son?”

“Robin’s been kidnapped. There was a gunshot, but I don’t think it hit them. I’ve got their sister here, and we’re looking together. I’ve used the license plate to match owners with cars that drove near the apartment complex.” He left out the bit about the detective’s badge, he didn’t think Harry would approve of it as much.

“Who’s on your list?”

“Um, Alice North, Daniel Simon, Pierre Aladin, Connor Anderson-”

“Go back, what was that last one? Before Connor?”

“Pierre Aladin.”

“Send me that list, and don’t do anything until I get there.”

“Toss that idea right in the trash, Det. Clayton,” Maisie suddenly took the phone from Bobby. “We don’t have time to wait for you to meet with Elsa and then come here. We’ll go to you.”

“Who are you?” Harry demanded.

“I’m looking for a bracelet to match my hairpin,” Maisie said before twisting her necklace.

Bobby’s call cut out.

“Laurie hasn’t heard from Pierre for a few hours, ever since somebody broke into their apartment this morning. Interesting, huh?” Maisie smiled knowingly.

“You have a signal jammer in your necklace.” Bobby’s eyes flicked up to the pink butterfly on her hair. “Is your hairpin another signal jammer?”

“No,” she took it off so Bobby could see the USB drive under the center pearl. “There’s a tracker on Robin’s phone, attached to-”

“To the SD card,” Bobby made to snatch the hairpin out of her hand, but she moved her wrist at the last second and stuck the drive into the computer herself, and she kept her hand on it the whole time. “Why didn’t you say you could just find them?”

“I needed to know who took Robin in order to know how to move forward, and I need a way to keep you busy, so you didn’t overdose in my car,” her voice was ice-cold.

“I wouldn’t, not when,” his throat closed up before he could finish. He almost had. “How did you know Pierre Aladin was involved?” he asked instead.

“I’ve cleaned up enough of his hits that I know what kind of car he drives,” she said absently, focusing on the shrinking dot on the screen until it pinged an exact location. “Give me a plastic bag for this,” she said, producing a bloody cleaver out of nowhere. “They’re in the cabinets under the counter, to the right of the sink. And if there’s any liquid left in the green bottle with the words you can’t read, pour it out so Robin needs to go out and get better wine. Wow, this is a very good badge,” she pocketed the fake ID he made. “Come on, chop chop,” she clapped as best she could while one hand was wrapped around a giant knife when she noticed he was staring.

He decided not to ask about the knife and just do what she said.

“Thanks,” she said, now with her hair tied back and two pink pearls dangling from her ears. “Let’s go,” she motioned with a hand holding a piece of folded paper.

Rather than walk toward where her car was parked, Maisie went to where several men had just finished loading the garbage truck and hopped in the back. She cleared a space for him and motioned for him to sit down, something he wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t essentially spent the last two days covered in various bodily fluids of his own and Robin’s.

“Why are we taking the garbage truck?” Bobby asked as he settled in.

“Because we need to pick up your friend,” Maisie responded cryptically. She didn’t say another word, preferring to twist her earrings.

“We’re wasting time!” Bobby finally exploded. He was getting itchy. “They could be doing anything to Robin!”

“They’re not,” she closed her eyes and gestured to her earrings.

Bobby stared at her until he understood. “You can hear them.”

Maisie hummed her assent and closed her eyes as a man fell somewhere behind Bobby. “We picked up your friend,” she said by way of explanation. “Please don’t interfere,” she said. “I’m trying to do you several favors.”

Bobby twisted his head to see Harry looking just as bewildered as he felt.

“And what favors are those?” Harry asked warily.

“Sheldon Blake, for one. And the stabbing at The Catalyst is also of interest to you, isn’t it?” Maisie smiled at Harry’s gobsmacked face.

“Do you know everything that happens?” he asked suspiciously.

“This is our stop,” Maisie linked Bobby’s arm with hers and hopped off the truck, steadying him when he almost fell. A flop and a groan a few seconds later let Bobby know that Harry was following them to the building that seemed abandoned, except for a single man in a blue tweed jacket and a surprising amount of makeup at the door.

“Hello,” the man waved cheerfully.

“Hello,” she purred back, nearly draping her body over his. “And who might you be?”

“Dixie,” he answered with an easy grin.

“What a beautiful name!” Maisie stepped back and showed him her badge. “Now, Dixie, would you mind taking me and my friends inside?”

Dixie swallowed. “I-I can’t-”

“You won’t get in trouble,” all the fake seduction fell away, replaced by soft concern. She whispered something in his ear before unfolding the paper she had taken from Robin’s apartment. “Go to this address right here and tell Shelley King that a friend of Laurie’s sent you. He’ll let you in. And then tell him the knife is in Callum Ballimore’s apartment.”

Dixie gave her an odd look, but didn’t leave even when Maisie gestured for him to go. “Miss, I don’t mean to insult you, but do you know what’s in there?” he asked, pointing his thumb to the building behind him.

“A human trafficking operation, right? One that took in two very willful people today as punishment for aiding investigations into Sheldon Blake.”

Harry gasped and stiffened next to Bobby, who felt like he might faint. He’d known Robin had been kidnapped for what he helped Harry with, but hearing it spelled out made him want to shower until he flayed himself.

Wait, two people?

“But here’s what he doesn’t understand: the past catching up to you refers to both your enemies coming to harm you and your friends coming to rescue you. There’s no sadness without joy, too. Now, let Shelley protect you and extend my apologies for making him do this again.”

This time, when Maisie pointed, Dixie ran.

[that-yandere-life]

16, 17, and 20 with Steve please :) really loving your work!!

Prompt #16: “I will protect you from everything.”

Prompt #17: “You can always count on me, my love.”

Prompt #20: “You are the reason I live.”

[Warning: Kidnapping [Always check the license plate number of your Uber driver before getting in.]]

Usually Steve insisted on picking you up from work, especially since most of the time you got off after dusk. However today he had texted asking you to take a cab or Uber home since he was stuck in debriefing and would be for a while. So using your app you ordered a car about ten minutes before your shift ended so it would be waiting when you finished. Looking at the information you saw that your driver’s name was Chase and that they just pulled up. Slinging your bag over your shoulder you bid farewell to your co-workers before walking out.

“Is this Chase?”You asked upon opening up the back door sliding in once he gave you confirmation. “Thank you for picking me up.”You said not at all unnerved by his silence, in fact you kind of preferred it after a long day of dealing with people. Swiping through your phone you didn’t notice at first that he wasn’t going the right way towards the apartment you shared with Steve. “Um excuse me, do you have the correct address? I think we are going the wrong way.”You softly inquired.

“Oh this is a detour, there is some road work that started today. It will be much faster to go this way.”Chase explained not at all putting your mind at ease.

“Oh okay.”You said making it seem like you believed him, instead you were furiously texting Steve. Quickly you gave him the information of the vehicle you had gotten into, screenshotting the app page sending it too. All the while trying to make it seem like you weren’t perturbed in anyway. When he texted back telling you that he had called the number associated with your driver and they stated you were a no show, you knew you were in trouble. Remaining calm you kept Steve updated on where you were headed so he could intercept.

Noticing the driver growing more and more anxious you wondered what was going on, only to see a motorcycle zoom up next to him. The sound of the exhaust letting you breathe easier as you could recognize your boyfriend’s bike anywhere. Almost like a cattle rustler heading off a cow, he did the same effectively bringing the car to a startling halt. Quickly you began fiddling with the handle only for it not to budge.

“I don’t think so miss, I’m afraid it’s the end of the line a little sooner than I thought. I was hired to take you for collateral to get Captain America but lucky me here he is to save the day. Too bad he will be too late to save his precious girlfriend.”Chase said with an alarming grin, aiming a pistol at your head, finger on the trigger. That was until you ducked, Steve’s shield flying through the windscreen effectively taking Chase’s head clean off continuing through the other side of the car.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”You screamed as Chase’s blood drenched you in every sense of the word. Scrambling you pushed yourself out of the back window cutting your own hands on the tempered glass still sticking out of the frame.

“Doll, doll, breathe baby breathe.”Steve said taking you into his strong arms holding you against him, not caring a bit about the blood. “I’m right here, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”He said desperately stroking your hair softly keeping you pressed against him.

“He said he was hired to take me to get to you. I was so scared!”You sobbed, your entire body shaking, reeling in the shock of what had just happened.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll protect you from everything. You can always count on me, my love.”Steve said breathlessly feeling tears well in his own eyes as he had come too close to his worst fears being realized. Kissing your lips deeply like it was the last time he couldn’t help but pour every emotion he felt into it. Just needing to feel you and know that you were still alive, still breathing in his arms. “I couldn’t live without you if anything happened, you are the reason I live.”He said cupping your face making you look into his eyes. “You are my everything.”

[Wow this got intense! I really hope you like it and it’s what you were looking for! Thank you so much for your request and support darling!

[me-on-set]

Harrowingly Strange

When was the last time you had to face a moral dilemma? I am still reeling. I actually just got home. I think I invented a new selfie style. I wanted to take a photo of my makeup on and off.

As I currently write this, I am not an actor but instead have been doing background work for the past year. I've occasionally been a featured extra and was a body double once.

It's fascinating, seeing and doing the work that embodies being on set.

A couple of days ago, I received a message from a casting agency that had my headshot asking to submit my photo for a featured non-speaking role with a local production company. It was a one or two day shoot at $200 per day. I said yes and I got the gig.

When you are cast, you get an email the night before with details about the set location, start time, special instructions, and wardrobe. This show I booked was for a reenactment TV series about real world events. The exciting news was that this particular episode revolved around a crisis that occurred in my parents' homeland. I was to play someone at home seeing the news on television, and then in a second scene complain to police of their incompetence. I was asked to bring leisure clothing one would wear at home.

When I first started being an extra, I would bring my clothes in a backpack, trying really hard not to care too much. That behavior did not last. I found my interest stumbling forward into a natural evolution. I started taking luggage to neatly carry my wardrobe options. I found that I would mostly get cast as a mid-30's businessman. This led me to comfortably bring my outfits in a garment bag. It's funny how familiarity can grow your views.

For today, I packed shorts, sweatpants, t-shirts, a hoodie, a pair of runners, and a pair of flip flops. I got these flip flops during my last vacation with my mom overseas in her hometown. I also brought some henley shirts and arrived on set in khakis and a short-sleeved polo because there was also a mention of button-ups being an option.

The majority of work involved as an extra is waiting. It's a good idea to bring a book, although in this day and age, occupying oneself with a smart phone is a much more fulfilling time killer. I didn't end up using any of the clothes I had brought except for my belt and my runners. After my hair and makeup were done I decided to satisfy my curiosity by searching keywords of this specific production. I searched the name of the character I was to reenact. Adding quotations to strict strings of words, I had soon discovered the event I was going to portray. This was when my moral dilemma began.

I was born and raised in North America by immigrant parents who arrived in their early 20's. The typical experiences had by people of color paint a relatively positive mural that represents my upbringing. Having visited my ethnic country many times throughout my life, I felt, and still feel, a deep connection to the motherland. This connection is common for others like myself, powered by identity in a time where life will sometimes present it as a limitation. Conversely, this only strengthens cultural pride.

The role I was to play was an international representing their countrymen against the very country I identify with. Pangs of uneasiness flooded my body. There was another featured role performer who had an earlier call time. We sat together in the holding area. He was cast to play the part of a family member learning the news of the event. What surprised me more was the fact that he was a recent immigrant from my country of ethnicity. Us both, cast in roles of coincidental conflict of interest?

When it comes to acting, the only other time I recall having feelings of apprehension was during a big budget movie filmed in a church. I was a church goer among a sea of church goers seated in church pews. We were instructed to portray the enjoyment of a church service. Some of us were selected to stand and sway to the Christian music. Some had their eyes closed, head tilted to the ceiling, palms facing up to the heavens. As easy a physical task that is, I instead opted to clap along to the band and pretend to really feel the sounds of my favorite music. I know it's just acting but I was driven by the thought of my mom seeing me do anything other than that on camera. So, I coursed the music through my veins. I know the history of the band members, the albums, this music moves me, pretend.

I received my paperwork and read it over a cup of coffee from craft services. It was standard paperwork that I've filled out over a dozen times before. I looked at the inviting exit door. I was parked right outside. This is not that big of a deal, is it? I imagined this TV episode making its way to the news overseas, the citizens all over the world deeming me a traitor for perpetuating a negative image, not merely through action but through representation against them. Against us. Am I selling out? For two hundred bucks?

I thought about getting up and leaving. I thought about all of the hard work that people have put into this specific production. If you haven't been behind the scenes before, it is quite the trip. An assortment of heavy duty cables line the floors, taped in place. Racks of props in designated areas. The backstage crew zip around in sync, bursting with walkie-talkie sounds and hollers of instruction. There is a commonality in the many interactions, their minds tuned into the goal meant to be achieved. This is their career.

This is my hobby. I am a prop. Would leaving this put a blemish on my record in the local film community, or the film industry as a whole, because I wasted everyone's time being sensitive? As I languished, I get a message from my best friend and I tell him I'm on set. I tell him:

For some reason, that makes me feel better. I just might be able to work with that mentality. The other guy has finished. He returns his wardrobe and collects his belongings. I ask him if he knows what this show is about. We speak in our language among the English-speakers. I ask him if he thinks people back home are going to be mad at us. I ask him if he knew we were going to be doing this. He seems ok with it all. He said he was there during the actual event. He's new to the industry. We laugh about how we can pass as different races. This is his first time being on camera. He said he enjoyed the experience. I ask him if he'll continue. He said yes. I hope he does.

Finally, wardrobe is set and I am wearing a navy blue golf shirt and some gray slacks. I want to feel good, like the other times I've worked. How can I get that feeling? They're calling me on set. They adjust the lighting while I sit in front of the camera. A fog machine fills the mock living room belonging to my character. When the camera rolls, there is a fake TV in front of me that I am to watch casually at first and then grow increasingly interested as the live footage I am pretending to watch unfolds. I am supposed to build up into a frustration with the host country. My country. As I understand it, the real guy is being interviewed and I am the reenactment; the illustration of his side of the story. I do the scene. Twice. Filming took less than 5 minutes total. The whole time I was thinking about my mom. I can remember it still, a few hours ago today, the director describing the gradual transpiring of the footage to guide me. To help me see a reason to be frustrated on camera. It wasn't helping. It's not his fault. I don't think it's anyone's fault. I don't think they even knew why I would be uncomfortable. I don't think they knew much about the countries involved in the event. They even spelled the city name wrong. I don't even think the takes were that bad.

I wish it wasn't about my country. If it were different, I feel like I could have given more - like I had done at the church.

It's unsettling to perform make-believe, but for myself I have managed to apply a mental exercise that immerses me into a character; to actually be the person. The trick is to relate. To tie the emotion to a real memory and relive it. If it had only been about another country, I'm sure I would have enjoyed the process a lot more.

I'm writing this and I was hoping it would help me shake away this dread. Thoughts of regret imagining if I had only researched the keywords sooner. Maybe I would have cancelled. But that wouldn't have been better. I would be blacklisted and never cast as another role again. Or maybe I'm being dramatic. Hey, that's good for this line of work, right?

I honestly hope the final cut looks great. This is the biggest role I've ever been in. They gelled my hair funny like a nerd, I had on large framed glasses, just like the portrayed, and they put makeup on my upper lip to hide my dark, clean-shaven stubble.

When I got home, before I washed my makeup off, I took a before and after mirror selfie because my face looked comedically smooth. Taking the pictures reminded me of when I was sipping coffee in the holding area. I had taken pictures of my paperwork. I remember my mind racing. The feeling was like gathering license plates and insurance information after a collision. You know, just in case I have to stand trial, my cultural membership in jeopardy. I can review my situation with a lawyer to see what I can and can not say during a variety show interview that is getting my side of the story after viral, captioned screenshots of me flood the internet with embarrassing memes, stamped into history. Jesus Christ, that would be the worst. Here I go again with extreme maybes. It's an entertaining curse that I will forever be engulfed in my own hypothetical torture.

Anyway, here's that selfie I invented:

Yeah my bathroom mirrors are dirty.

I can't wait for my next job that I can cleanse my palate with. I really hope I can accept today as purely an actor's portrayal, and not a turncoat betrayal. This can't be my last go at acting. I ate some of my country's food for supper. I feel a bit better. I'm wearing a shirt that is emblazoned with our country's sports hero.

I have always been excited to see the final release of a production I am in, except for this one now. Uncontrollably, my perverse curiosity into the film world is only strengthening, so I don't think even the worst thoughts can slow my future participation. The silver lining is that the uncomfortable bar is set to a new level. I could reenact a murderous deviant now without batting a moral eyelash, I like to think. All for the sake of film.

- WSS, February 8, 2019

[abygishblog]

August Hunt 2022, Item 123: Plushie Picnic

This was the first one I selected to do, and I think it's the first one I submitted.

Here's a screenshot of it on our team's Trello board:

[The Undertaker icon means it's one of my assignments. Hihiiii!]

I went around the apartment and grabbed a lot (but not all) of my plushies, including an unlicensed Bitter Rabbit and a licensed Sebastian. I ended up using 14 plushies, but I also wore cat paw xmas stockings as gloves and a plush cat mask. Therefore, I donated 15 meals to the World Food Program, and I chose their Ukraine food campaign.

The GISH commandments are wild, and this year one says not to show any spoons, but in August they wanted to see paper straws and sporks. So, I tossed about 30 (accidentally said 20 in the submission) paper straws onto the blanket like confetti, and there are two sporks (made of titanium, which apparently gets super hot under the sun) on a couple of the paper plates.

As I also said in my submission, I served actual food (sandwiches and a meat/cheese/cracker plate), and so I shared them immediately afterwards with neighbors who helped me with the setup and photos.

Here are the two best photos from the shoot:

And a couple insets from the photo I submitted:

Why does a nearly 45 yo woman without kids have all these plushies? Because she wanted the plushies.

Actually, the little orange dog to the lower left is the oldest toy I still have. He's a Dakin "Drooper the Dog", and I've owned him for at least 40 years, probably longer. He's super rare now, as he's been long discontinued. I grew up calling him a Hush Puppy, but that was a different, much more popular toy of the 1980's; I might have once had one named Bruno.... But my Dakin toy dates back to the early 70's, before I was even born, though my exact one might be from post-1977. I'm not sure. This is how he looked when I first received him, but his face is mostly missing now (only his eyes remain):

Also take note of the picnic basket 🧺. It's something I saved from my parents' house when I moved my mom into assisted living and cleaned out the house to sell it. The basket has an eagle on it and is quite vintage. It might be as old as the Dakin dog, if not older.

[componentplanet]

Zoom’s Security and Privacy Practices Kind of Zuck

In our collective scramble to turn three-foot stacks of pizza boxes, heaps of children’s toys, and last week’s laundry into credible office space, a handful of companies have gained a great many users in a short amount of time. Zoom Video usage has surged over the past two weeks, driving the company’s stock price up, but that same popularity has encouraged a good deal more scrutiny of the firm’s various privacy and security practices. Zoom isn’t coming off very well in these comparisons, and the bad news just keeps piling up.

Most recently, The Intercept revealed that Zoom doesn’t offer end-to-end encryption, despite specific promises to the contrary. End-to-end encryption is a feature Zoom claims to offer on video calls, both in its security whitepaper and in its application.

Image by The Intercept

When asked if they actually implement E2E encryption, however, Zoom said it doesn’t.

“Currently, it is not possible to enable E2E encryption for Zoom video meeting,” the representative wrote. “Zoom video meetings use a combination of TCP and UDP. TCP connections are made using TLS and UDP connections are encrypted with AES using a key negotiated over a TLS connection.”

Instead of enabling end-to-end encryption, Zoom uses TLS. This is transport encryption, not end-to-end encryption. The most important difference for end-users is this: With true end-to-end encryption, like that offered by Apple via FaceTime or Signal, the company providing the service can’t access your video, audio, or text data, even if it wanted to. There’s no information to give governments who come looking for it.

Transport encryption, in contrast, allows Zoom to peek inside audio and video chat (chat messages, it turns out, are actually end-to-end encrypted in Zoom sessions, even if nothing else is). As the report points out, advertising itself as offering E2E when it doesn’t could constitute deceptive marketing and trade practices if customers chose to use Zoom as a result of these claims rather than a competitor service.

Companies cannot be allowed to dilute the definition of security terms, lest we lose their intended meanings altogether. Transport encryption is transport encryption, and it’s not the same thing as end-to-end encryption, no matter how useful Zoom finds it to pretend they are.

Encryption Isn’t Zoom’s Only Problem

If lousy encryption were the only thing Zoom had been caught doing in recent days, it would still be a significant story — the company is claiming to provide security services it doesn’t actually offer. In the last few weeks, however, a number of Zoom issues have come to light, including:

Zoom has been sharing end-user data with Facebook, even if you don’t use Facebook. On March 26, Motherboard wrote: “The Zoom app notifies Facebook when the user opens the app, details on the user’s device such as the model, the time zone and city they are connecting from, which phone carrier they are using, and a unique advertiser identifier created by the user’s device which companies can use to target a user with advertisements.” None of this was disclosed in the company’s privacy policies. (Zoom has since said it will end these arrangements.)

The EFF covered in mid-March how Zoom allows meeting hosts to monitor whether people have the window focused, which explains why I kept getting asked if I was paying attention during a recent Zoom meeting with a company I won’t identify. At the time, I found it confusing, since I was taking notes and asking questions, but it makes more sense now. Pro Tip: If I’m watching your face or your slideshow for more than a few seconds at a time, it probably means I’m not paying attention. If I’m paying attention, I’m screenshotting the slideshow for later review and taking notes in a separate application.

An investigation published just today found that Zoom has been leaking emails and photos to strangers based on how it handles personal email addresses. Zoom’s Company Directory adds individuals to the contact lists of other individuals based on a common domain name. Individuals with unusual email domain providers, however, have found themselves added to common lists of up to several thousand people, constituting all of the other users of that service who also signed up for Zoom. This problem doesn’t happen to major email address providers like Gmail or Yahoo, but if you got your service through “ExtremeMail.com,” you might find yourself on a common “Company Directory” email list with every other ExtremeMail.com customer, even though none of you have anything in common beyond your email provider. It’s also got a security problem that allows attackers to steal your login credentials on a Windows PC.

Zoom, it seems, has some house-cleaning to do before it deserves to claim the mantle of “America’s Favorite Pandemic Video Service.” It doesn’t offer end-to-end marketing for video and audio calls and it’s already been caught funneling data to Facebook even when people don’t have Facebook accounts. At a minimum, the company needs to conduct an audit of its own practices and fix such issues, pronto.

Feature image by ExtremeTech, created from Zoom marketing material and various images of Zuckerberg available at Wikimedia or by Anthony Quintano, Flickr. 

Now Read:

The Personal Data of 267 Million Facebook Users Leaks Online

Google and Facebook Are Reading and Storing Your License Plate Number

Xbox Chief: Amazon, Google Are the Greatest Threats the Xbox Faces

from ExtremeTechExtremeTech https://www.extremetech.com/internet/308702-zooms-security-and-privacy-practices-kind-of-zuck from Blogger http://componentplanet.blogspot.com/2020/04/zooms-security-and-privacy-practices.html

[ciathyzareposts]

Missed Classic: Borrowed Time – Won! And Final Rating

Written by Joe Pranevich

It seems like only two days ago that we started our look at Borrowed Time, the first game by Subway Software and a fun diversion as I prepare for Batman Returns. This is the first adventure game created by “The Game Doctor”, William Kunkel, during a brief period where he transitioned from game journalist to game designer. We left off last week after an extended chase sequence as my character, the hardboiled detective Sam Hawlow, survived an attempt on his life.

The plot thickens right away. As soon as I step out of the bar where I had fled, my assistant Iris finds me. Someone has kidnapped my ex-wife Rita; Iris recommends that I search Rita’s apartment for clues. I learned a few minutes earlier that Rita was on good terms with one of the thugs, Fred Mongo, so I do not understand why she was kidnapped. Was she double-crossed? Is this a setup intended to lure me to my death? Was she so upset about the unpaid alimony that she would seek out the mob, only to end up in over her head? I’ll have to play some more to find out. Although my character should know where her apartment is located, I will need to explore the city to find it. Let’s see what we see!

The dogs kids love to bite!

Rather than give you the usual boring play-by-play, let’s cut to the chase and I’ll summarize each area as I found it. The streets are in a grid so explaining the layout isn’t so bad:

First Avenue, running west to east, is where my office and the bar are located. Walking down the street to the west, I discover Hawkey’s newsstand, a vendor selling hotdogs, and a shack at the end of the road. Hawkey insults his own newspaper and won’t sell me any of them. In contrast, the hotdog stand is happy to sell me a weiner, but we eat it immediately rather than stashing it in inventory for later use. I’ll return to the shack in a bit. The hotel that I raced through at the beginning of the game has been closed due to “vandals”, but my office is still open. Shame there’s nothing new there.

The next street to the south is Sixth Avenue, so thank heavens for narrative compression. From east to west, that street features a police station, a park, Bruce Light’s house, a Medical Office, and a pile of trash at the end of the street. The park consists of two rooms: a statue of George Washington and a shed with a combination lock on it. I’ll be on the lookout for a combo. The trash at the end of the street hides a bone, which I pocket in true adventure style. Bruce’s house can’t be explored without a search warrant, but we catch a glimpse of some pill bottles on his table.

Not completely animated, but these scenes give the impression of a living city.

To the north of First is Polk Street, a residential area. I find a house guarded by a “bruiser”, Rita’s apartment, the offices of a company named “G&W”, and a parking lot. There’s a brief scene the first time you arrive at the guarded house: a woman goes, but comes out quickly flanked by a couple of goons before they all get into a cab. I don’t recognize her or the thugs so I have no idea if this scene is significant.

The only location not on those three east-west streets is a post office, tucked away between First and Sixth. The post office has a long hallway of locked PO boxes which seems promising. My bet is that I will find a key to one of them later.

I had to work all of that out over several restores. There seems to be an internal timer where if you don’t trigger some action to advance the plot every few turns, the mob catches up to you and eventually kills you. This gives the game a constant forward pressure, but it makes exploring difficult and is unfair to someone just trying to get the lay of the land. Before long, I got into the habit of saving whenever I think I found a clue, then using that to iterate until I find the next one. I use that trick to also ensure that I move from clue to clue as efficiently as possible, just in case there is an overall timer too.

Not the Kidnap Victim We Were Looking For

While I explore, I stumble onto some situations that warrant further investigation. The first of these is at the shack on First Avenue. Fred Mogo steps out just as I arrive, but hails a cab and speeds away before he sees me. The door to the shack is locked, but a little bit of shoulder-pressure knocks it down easily enough. Inside is the tied up figure of Mavis Brown, the barmaid who gave me advice then ran at the beginning of the game.

I admit that I had a complete “blue screen” moment when I arrived. Had I won the game already? Did I find my kidnapped wife without even trying? No! My ex-wife’s name is Rita Sweeny. Mavis Brown was also kidnapped, although we didn’t learn that until we found her here. Checking out the place, I also discover a white tube and a novel, Babes and Bullets by Bob Tucker. I free Mavis and she tells me that she was kidnapped because she was seen talking to Doris Maglam. Who is that? Doris had told Mavis that Fred has to see someone about a car, but why that information is so sensitive as to warrant a kidnapping is unknown. She believes that Fred thinks she knows more than she does. It sounds like I’ll need to see Doris myself. The tube contains medication for Fred from Dr. Lafferty, but it’s not clear what the medication is for. The novel doesn’t seem important, but Fred was using a receipt from Stiles Safe Park– including a license plate number– as a bookmark. Is this the car that Fred is interested in? Mavis heads out in a few turns and I follow suit.

Let’s pause a second to talk about Bob Tucker. Unless I miss my mark, this is a reference to a famous fanzine and science fiction author from the 1930s through the early 2000s. “Bob” Tucker was a pen name used by Wilson Tucker while writing fandom materials starting in the 1930s. I have tracked down twenty novels and many short stories that Tucker sold starting in 1941, but no “Babes and Bullets”. Given Kunkel’s deep experience with fan magazines and fandom communities, I would not be surprised to learn that this was a “deep cut” and that Tucker really did have a self-published story or novella by that name, even in 1934. Even if not, it’s a nice homage.

I head to the police station to tell them to arrest Fred, but they tell me that they need to catch him red handed. I saw him leave the scene of the crime. There is a witness who would testify that he locked her up, plus we found prescription medication in his name at the scene of the crime. What more could they possibly need? I resolve to ask at the doctor’s office next.

HIPAA Violation

With a map of the area, finding finding the doctor’s office is no sweat. I head inside and am confronted by a nurse. She asks if I am a patient and I honestly answer “no”. She asks me to sit in the waiting area… and I wait and wait and wait. I eventually restore and tell her “yes” instead. She then immediately leads me into a consultation room. I search it to find some bandages in the desk, but what’s more important is what I see through an open doorway into an examination room: Fred Mongo is here, being treated by the doctor for something; I can see the doctor bandaging his hands. This must relate somehow to the prescription that I found in the shack, although I am not sure how yet. If I try to confront Mongo or even stay too long in the consultation room, some goons ambush me and drop me unconscious back into the street. Any further attempts to get into the office results in the receptionist threatening to call the cops on me. I hope I found everything I needed.

Next door to the doctor’s office is Bruce Light’s house– I know this from the description but I have no idea who he is. He lets me in when I knock and I am shocked to discover dozens of pill bottles out in view on his front table. He blocks any attempt to go further into his house without a search warrant. I’m not sure how or if it connects to Fred’s doctor issues, but he seems like he’s up to something. I’ll come back later.

Visiting the Ex

Getting into Rita’s apartment is easy if you apply a little bit of force: we have to break down the door. Immediately after entering, someone attacks me from behind and I am knocked unconscious. When I wake up, I am dangling from the ceiling pipes with my hands tied above me. There’s not much exploring that I can do in this situation, but luckily a nearly table contains some matches and a candle. Using absolutely superhuman feats of skill, I am able to pick up both with my feet and toss them up to my tied hands. It seems impossible, and the game text plays off the silliness of completing this action. With the matches, it is easy work to light the candle to burn the rope that holds my hands to the bar. I drop to the floor unharmed and continue investigating.

My first observation is that everything is covered with dust. Either Rita doesn’t actually live here or she doesn’t clean much. I search the kitchen and come up with my next clue: a receipt for some burn salve. It costs exactly the same about as the white tube says on the label so they must be one and the same. That answers a few questions but opens a few more: Rita must have been helping Fred Mongo. After he burned his hands, he sought medical treatment and needed Rita to help him buy or apply the salve. Was he at the doctor getting his bandages replaced? Fred and Rita must be in cahoots– but why? And how did Fred burn his hands?

This is the point in the game where the inventory limit is starting to matter. We are able to hold eight items, two of which must be our wallet and gun. That leaves six slots but my hands are already full. I drop the glass shard so that I can pick up the receipt; I doubt I will need that again.

I wish I had found these earlier…

Case Files

Although my screenshots are of the Amiga version, up to this point I had been playing the DOS version. Realizing how much nicer the Amiga was, I figured out FS-UAE and downloaded the correct disk image. In the process, I end up playing over the whole start again and producing the lovely screenshots that you see above.

But in the second pass, I find a major missing font of knowledge, right at the start of the game: my case files. In your office, you can browse your records to get a list of open and recently closed cases. They shed a ton of light on what is going on in the game, so much so that I am surprised that I worked out as much as I did without them.

They are:

Case #1 – We are investigating Fred Mogo for the arson of Acme Paper. We’ve seen Fred twice now, first when we saw him leave the shed where Mavis was being held and then in the doctor’s office. The burn salve that we found (and connected to my ex-wife, Rita) must be to help him heal from wounds that he received during that attack.

Case #2 – We investigated F. Nagler for his political activities at the request of his employer. We found him innocent, but I’m not sure what kind of “political activities” he could have been involved in. Unionizing? Gosh, is he a socialist?

Case #3 – We investigated missing money at the Dublin Rose bar next door, discovering that Ms. Athlea was nicking from her employer to buy a sports car.

Case #4 – I am helping the FBI gather evidence against “Boss” Farnham. They are 90% sure that he is a mob boss, but need help to pin it on him. Doesn’t a nickname like “Boss” give it away?

Case #5 – G&W Inc. hired me to track down an embezzling employee. I worked out that it was Jim Schuman, but they demote rather than fire him. Case closed, even if that was a terrible decision on their part.

Case #6 – Morris Motors hired me to investigate Doris Maglam who was 60 days late for her car payment. We found her and the car was repossessed, now sitting at Stiles Park. Doris is who Mavis was talking to when Fred nabbed her; he seems to be interested in this car and I should find that parking lot.

Case #7 – We are investigating R. M. Donald, a “burger bandit” who is on the run. I’m sure he’d eat like a burger king, if he just went in (and out) of a Wendy’s. Robble, robble!

Of those, we know that we are dealing with #1, #4, and #6. I’m not really sure how pertinent any of the others are, but #7 is clearly just a fast food joke.

Duking It Out in the Parking Lot

When you arrive at the parking lot for the first time, there is a scene where Jake, the parking attendant, and Fred Mongo are arguing. Jake refuses to release a DeSoto to Fred because it’s been repossessed. My guess is that he left something in the car that he doesn’t want anyone to find, possibly pointing to his arson case. If I come back later, the argument is over and Fred is gone. At that point, I try to show Jake the receipt to find the car, or just to search around and see if I can find it myself, but neither does anything.

But here is where I get stuck. I can find nothing new to do. I cannot get past the thug into the townhouse, find a key to the safe deposit box, or anything else. I resolve to take a hint: I need to break up the argument.

I have to restore to catch the argument in progress, but that is not too big of a deal. If I flash my gun at Fred and Jake, they stop fighting. Jake tells me that Fred was trying to take burned gloves and three cans of lighter fluid from the impounded car including. Aha! That is proof that Fred was involved in the arson. A turn or two later, Jake calls the police and they tell me that I have to show them evidence. When I show them the burn cream, the receipt, the lighter fluid, and the gloves– one at a time– they tell me that they are interested but there isn’t enough evidence. When I show the last item, they are satisfied and arrest Mr. Mongo for arson.On his way to the big house, Fred rats out his former boss Farnham. He says that he hid a key in Rita’s apartment that opens box 999 at the post office. He says that there is enough evidence there to send Farnham away for good.

Seeing Fred taken away in handcuffs is oddly satisfying.

The Chase II: More Chasing

Searching Rita’s again, I find a key hidden behind the stove. Fetching it is more difficult than it looks since I burn my hands and drop everything. I need to apply the bandages before I can gather up my things and continue.

Using the key at the post office, I am surprised to only discover a poem: “In the country, in the city, under the father’s eye, dig six feet and you’ll have all that money can buy.” It’s not a particularly good poem, but it does have the number 6316 written on the back. What could that be used for? The shed! I head to the shed in the park next and try that combination on the lock. It works! Unfortunately, that only contains a shovel. But “under the father’s eye” is pretty clearly a reference to the George Washington statue so I go there to dig. I discover a suitcase!

Founding father!

Unfortunately, thugs emerge from all directions. I don’t have time to do anything except run; any other action kills me. I head north and find thugs coming from up the street. The only safe direction I can go is west but when I arrive at the end of the street (where I found the bone earlier), I am killed when I turn north. It takes more than a minute to realize that I can “hide” in the trash. Inside is a very angry dog, but he calms down when I return his bone. Leaving the pile too quickly gets me killed, but I can head east once the thugs pass.

The way east leads to the police station and that is where I head next. I tell them to arrest Farnham based on the evidence in the case and they take me to his headquarters. I hand over the suitcase as well as the folder describing embezzlement that is contained inside, but they are not enough. The police accuse me of sending them on a wild goose chase. Farnham stays a free man and I’m stuck.

Alas, I was unable to arrest him this time.

Taking a Hint

After thrashing about a bit and remembering that I’m supposed to be playing Batman Returns, I give up and consult a walkthrough. It’s not as satisfying, but it does get me to the end. I am satisfied that I came close to solving the game, but I needed two more bits of evidence to send Farnham up the creek.

The first thing I didn’t do properly was handle the thugs in the bar. They scared Mavis out and into the street where she was picked up by Fred, but I would not have thought to threaten them with my gun… twice… to learn where Lebock’s hideout is and how to get in. I wasn’t even thinking about Lebock. My only note on him is that he is “Farnham’s man” and that he was last seen with Rita and Fred. After the second threat, they tell me that the password is “tinplayer”. I head up to the building guarded by the bruiser to try it out.

This leads me into another “escape” puzzle. When I arrive at Lebock’s place, he is sitting in a chair by the fire. He kicks me out immediately unless I run east into his dining room. There, I can grab a candlestick and use it to knock out the thugs that are following me. I can then proceed further east and out the back door to emerge at the street. Any deviation gets me shot. All good so far? No. I missed some evidence! What I needed to do was immediately lock the door. Somehow, I don’t get shot or kicked out and Lebock acts defensive. That gives me time to search the fireplace for a piece of partly-burned paper documenting his wrong-doings and then I flee east as before.

The second bit that I missed was due to a mapping error. There were rooms west of the parking lot and that lead to the mob headquarters and another house. If you visit Farnham without the police, you can watch him say “hiyo” to his dogs to calm then. He won’t help me because he’s a mob boss and I’m a detective, but the “hiyo” is what I needed to get past a group of vicious dogs guarding the other house. Inside, I find Rita and Mr. Wainwright which is doubly impressive because I didn’t realize he was kidnapped or know who he is at all. If I talk to him after the rescue, he hands over an audit report that proves money laundering. I take all that evidence to the police (with the rest that I had found earlier) and I win! Farnham is going to jail for a long time.

Time played: 4 hrs 00 min

Nothing but the best minimum-security prison for you!

Final Rating

That was fun, if not particularly long. I’m used to the deep writing and twists and turns of an Infocom adventure and this wasn’t quite that. It reminds me of Scott Adams-style adventures like the Questprobe ones that I played, but more sophisticated in its approach to storytelling. There is a very rough sophistication here that I can’t put my finger on but which demonstrates a promise for future games. Let’s see how the score comes out.

Puzzles and Solvability – Overall not bad, if a bit unfair at times. The highlight (of a sort) is the three chase puzzles where you have to escape from thugs. While it was a rough way to begin, it was more fun than challenging. I only struggled with the second chase at Lebock’s place because I would not have thought that locking the door would have stopped him from killing me. Beyond that, identifying what evidence you needed for the police was nice and the little riddle with the poem was cute, if not particularly difficult. Having to flash around your gun to get people to listen to you fooled me twice– I just don’t think of that sort of thing. My score: 4.

Interface and Inventory – You know, I want to give a nice score here because the game looks polished… but it’s really not. The mouse is available but pretty much useless. The noun and verb lists do not update throughout the adventure and seem to be broken. The game is worse off for having those useless panes taking up so much space. Add to that a strict inventory limit which played off poorly with the timing-based puzzles and I just consider this a well-intentioned failure. Better than Curse of Enchantia though, right? My score: 2.

My completed map of the game.

Story and Setting – The game drops you into a world with a lot of names quickly, but once you work out how to read your case files it gets easier to understand how everyone connects. Solving one unrelated kidnapping while you are researching a second really threw me off in terms of what was going on. On the bright side, all of the cases led together back to the mob and the ending scene specifically calls out that you stripped Farnham’s allies one by one before taking him on. I was going to go lower, but I like the effort that went into creating the interlocking cases. My score: 6.

Sound and Graphics – The animation touches are nice and the images are fantastic… on the Amiga. Some of the scenes seemed a bit repetitive, but nowhere near the image reuse that we’ve seen with similar games in the past. This is nice as far as illustrated text adventures go. My score: 4.

Environment and Atmosphere – The chase sequence gave us a tense beginning to a game that never ceases pushing you forward. While I do not always like that from a puzzle standpoint, I do from an atmosphere one. The city itself was well-designed, if not that large, but the naming of the streets gave you the impression of someplace bigger. Nicely done. My score: 4.

Dialog and Acting – The text used in the game was limited, but what was there was fine. I wish that there had been more attempt to clarify who all of the names were that got thrown around at the beginning. My score: 3.

Add it all up: (4+2+6+4+4+3)/.6 = 38 points!

Looking over my scores, that puts it right around Spiderman and Hook and that feels about right. It was a bit of a transition game from text adventure to illustrated ones, plus the first game by a fledgling design house. It was an enjoyable few hours and I have no complaints.

Up next will be our regularly scheduled program: Batman Returns (1992). My copy of the game (and instruction manual) have finally arrived. Tune in next week: Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/missed-classic-borrowed-time-won-and-final-rating/