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electricfied-wolf · 5 months ago

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So... you've been reblogging a lot of Starlight Express onto my dash and I feel like it's about time I ask what it's about? What I'm picking up is that it's... humanoid trains?

Whatever it is I must admit it's piqued my curiosity

OHHHH BOY YOU'VE ACTIVATED MY AUTISM CARD I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT STARLIGHT EXPRESS. Ooookay, there's a lot to talk about, especially because a new non-replica production like JUST opened in London. I feel like I'm gonna ramble a lot so we're gonna put it under the cut and I'm just gonna blab until I feel I've explained it well enough. First of all I should note that I am explaining just off the top of my head, if you'd like more info the Starlight Express wiki is run by some very committed folks and as far as I know every word on that wiki is true. Also if you'd like more photos you're gonna have to go there bc GUESS WHO LEARNED THE LIMIT FOR PHOTOS IN A SINGLE TUMBLT POST IS 30? ANYWAY ONTO MY RAMBLE!!!! And be warned, it WILL BE VERY LONG. CLICK AT YOUR OWN RISK.

What is Starlight Express?

Starlight Express (often abbreviated to Stex by the fans) is a musical produced by Andrew Lloyd Webber (yes the CATS guy) that revolves around a child's toy trains "coming to life" and having a big ol' dramatic race. They've got an underdog, a couple bad guys, train god and romance. Pretty much everything. Most productions are more song filled than dialogue filled. It has its roots in Thomas & Friends and some of the earliest stuff had a Cinderella type of thing going on (not surprising I'm sure), the plot is actually pretty easy to follow once you get used to it. Starlight Express is performed SOLELY on roller skates (not counting lndn24's scooters for the Trax and Control) for the entire duration! And in such heavy costumes too! The show has been performed since 1984 and has absolutely ZERO signs of stopping as the Bochum, Germany production is still being performed and as I stated above, there is now a non-replica production running at the Troubadour Wembley Park Theatre in London. And if you don't know what that term (non replica) means, it essentially means they are not using the traditional costumes for the show that John Napier designed and are taking quite a few liberties with a newer plot and characters to make the show something much more unique as compared to its replica counterparts.

An older version of Rusty and Pearl in the John Napier style (left) VS. Rusty in the style of the London 2024 production standing with ALW (right) _ I specify 2024 London as the show was originally produced in London but also got revised so there's like three London Stex productions I could be talking abt lol, though the costumes have gone through some pretty drastic changes even in the replica productions.

Electra's more recognizable costume (aka the more compact mohawk version of red/blue Electra) used up until the rehaul in 2018, and the one currently used in Bochum's performance of the show (aka used from 2018-now). The same character and both replica, but still different! Over the course of the many years these trains have shared our earth, I'd say that Greaseball and Rusty are amongst the few that haven't changed that massively over the course of the show (again, NOT counting the current non-rep). This show has indeed graced the US and was even performed on Broadway! Unfortunately, us Americans are really really boring apparently because the show (while still wildly successful) did not stick around here in the states. It is still however beloved by many and that is the sole reason why it has stood to be seen for 40 years: people can say the show was made on drugs and that its "weird" all they want, but Starlight Express has a bigger community than you'd think, and it is incredibly well loved by those in the community. We are VERY devoted to our trains. Despite everything though, it has never gotten a pro-shot and the only fully versions available for streaming (...in terms of official audio for official streaming) on places like youtube and spotify are the original 1984 London Cast Recording and "The New Starlight Express", aka the revised London production's album released in 1993. There is also the english and german version's of Bochum Starlight Express' "Ich Bin Ich" otherwise know as "I Am Me", but no other parts of that production have been released for streaming. You can technically stop here and just go on to the wiki and stuff but if you wanna spend like an hour listening to my infodump I AM going to keep going.

The Characters

Before I touch on the story (a much shorter section I assume) I feel it is important to explain the characters, as there are a LOT and they change depending on each production and long story short yes I am nowhere dear done with this post. The characters can be broken up into groups of which I'll introduce them by. I also cannot really do London 24's characters which I wish I could bc I'm dead obsessed w/ it but it literally just opened a little while ago so the only sharable photos of other characters I got are fuzzy and from the megamixes or backstage pics. So unfortunately no cameos from those guys in this post but trust me THE WEMBLEY PARK PRODUCTION IS SO GOOD. Uhm anyways. First I'll mention the Trax/Racing Marshals, no speaking roles and very simple costumes compared to the other trains. They're simply there to wave the flags for the races and perform other tiny tasks to move the show along, as well as doing some very cool stunts that the other performers cannot do due to the absurd weight of the main costumes. They're just as important as everyone else!

The Marshals (Bochum 2016) *note, I'm mainly going to use Bochum photos to show off the costumes because they're just usually better quality The Humans: Usually disembodied voices (with exception from two productions) our only humans are a little kid named Control, and their mom who is simply known as Mom/Control's Mom and also has an even smaller role than her child as she only comes in at the introduction to put Control to bed. Control is OBSESSED with trains which grants us the plot of this musical, over the course of the show they order the trains around and narrate the races, but (up until recently) typically don't play an active role in terms of properly interacting with the trains. They are, as their name suggests, the Control for the trains. In Bochum's performance 2018 and onward Control mentions having a grandmother who is hard of hearing, but to my knowledge said grandma is only brought up in that specific production. The National/Competing Engines: For pretty much every production excluding WP's, the non-main character racing competitors have been international trains from across the world. However their names and some of their designs have been changed over time, and the French engine even switched genders in the 2018 Bochum rehaul. I am excluding the doubles from the tours because this'll take all day if I don't. _______ The French engine- Essentially from the beginning up to 2018, Bobo the TGV. In/after 2018 in Bochum, Coco the Eurostar. Arguably the most changed of the nationals, originally a male character (Bobo) she was changed to be a female and even given a blue color scheme which Bobo usually never had as he was typically seen with orange colors in Bochum.

(Bobo (Bochum) and Coco) _______ The Japanese Engine: Originally Hashamoto (misspelling of Hashimoto but technically that's his official name), later changed to Nintendo in 1992 for all english language productions but still Hashamoto in Germany, and from 2018 onward in Bochum known as Manga. All three are labeled as Shinkansen bullet trains.

(Hashamoto (Bochum), Nintendo, and Manga) _______ The Russian Engine: Turnov the trans siberian express has literally just been Turnov this whole time and really he's hardly changed aside from his costume having to have its chest symbol changed due to obvious reasons. This poor guy has suffered greatly due to political stuff even all the way back in 1987, though I will avoid getting into that here.

Turnov (Bochum 1991), Turnov (Bochum 2018, ft. Manga) _______ The German Engine: Weltschaft originally, later named Ruhrgold, the german engine is the InterCity Express (ICE). Like Turnov he hasn't really gone through many major changes other than the original switch from Weltschaft to Ruhrgold, though the two are presented with very contrasting personalities.

Weltschaft (Bochum 1991, ft. C.B.), Rurhgold (Bochum 2018, ft. Espresso) _______ The Italian Engine: ESPRESSO! He's a fun one, very similar to Bobo in that they're both pretty flamboyant european engines. Not really similar to Coco though. Espresso's a silly fella, flirts with the audience sometimes. His design has also been pretty consistent.

Espresso (Bochum 1988), Espresso (Bochum 2021) _______ The British Engine: Our pathetic failure king <3, aka the engine that literally never races as he usually breaks down before he's meant to race. Like every time it's got to be one of the most consistent plot points across 40 years of showtime. Even through three different transformations this british loco cannot escape it. Originally named City of Milton Keynes, later Prince of Wales upon the opening of the broadway production, and in 2018 hit the stage as Brexit. Yes, you heard me. They named the British national engine Brexit, and no none of us are particularly proud of that but it is how it is. At least he's got some charm!

No images of Milton are available atm, Prince of Wales (Las Vegas, 1993), Brexit (Bochum, 2018) _______ OKAY WE'RE DONE WITH NATIONALS. We can talk about the important ones now.

So next I'll move onto our main trio of engines. Rusty, Greaseball, Electra. Lots of design altercations over the years but no name changes and basically no role changes. However, the most recent production involves a female and wlw Greaseball as well as a canon they/them Electra! We'll go engine by engine, talk about our trademark "old steamer", and then I'll move onto the cars. _______ Greaseball, the world racing champion of Union Pacific: Heavily greaser based with muscles that make coaches and freight cars alike swoon, Greaseball is a black and yellow diesel and one of the antagonists of our plot. He's the world racing champion at the start of the show. Dating Dinah (both at the beginning and by the end despite some issues) the dining car, VERY proud of himself and pretty damn self absorbent in pretty much every production. He is also NOT that nice. He was pretty terrible in the very original plot back in the day BUT DON'T FEAR! They very quickly edited those plot points and made him less terrible and more of just a really pompous jerk. Bochum GB is actually such a goofy guy by the end. His female counterpart in the new production doesn't lack her meanness either! She's just as big of a jerk but also just as big of a softie by the end of the show. Truly, the same in every universe. Being a girl and a lesbian does not destroy her asshole tendencies and I am glad for that. Let gay girls be jerks too!!!

Greaseball (London 1984, ft. Pearl, Dinah, and Ashley), Greaseball (Bochum, 2021, ft. Caboose)

_______ Electra, the engine of the future: QUEEREST PRE-2024 STEX CHARACTER WHOOOO? Despite never having been fully confirmed (at least up until recent) to be any specific non-cishet identity, Electra the electric engine has been an icon for the girls and the gays since day one. With he/him pronouns but a slightly feminine name and physical demeanor, it's clear he was made to represent a less traditional form of gender presentation as he has been played by actresses in the past too, though primarily has been portrayed by male actors. Andrew Lloyd Webber even once referred to Electra's main song, AC/DC, as "transgender electro-pop". Not to mention the casting notice for the 2019 Bochum cast having described Electra as 'gender fluid / androgynous'. Electra has a pack of "components" aka his freight car entourage who follow him around and sing his praises. He is also one of the antagonists, though antagonist is a bit of a strong word as he isn't as hardcore as Greaseball or our villainous railcar. He has more beef with the diesel than our main character as well, stealing his girl and the show at every opportunity. And also aggressively zapping him as often as possible. The only thing they have in common is that they're full of themselves, they want Rusty out of the race, and they want to win. No photos for Electra I gave him his spotlight earlier in this post. Though do remember that the newest version of Electra (got a little sleek helmet instead of hair, super pointy costume, blue and silver colors) is NOT he/him, they are they/them and so is their current main actor! Electra is accompanied by an entourage of "components", aka shiny and fancy freight cars that bend to the engine's every whim. Pre-2018 the components are Wrench the repair truck, Joule the Dynamite Truck, Volta the freezer truck, Krupp the armaments truck, and Purse the money truck. Post-2018 the components are Wrench, Volta, Joule, and Killerwatt the security truck, Krupp and Purse are no longer present. It is also important to note that pre-2018 Volta is portrayed as very feminine meanwhile post-2018 Volta is meant to be much more masculine. No photos for Electra they got photos earlier in this post and I'm trying to save myself from hitting the photo limit. Same for Rusty. _______ Rusty, the steam train: WOOO WOOO! WOOO WOO! Say hello to the titular bitchular that everyone loves. Seriously I've never seen a Rusty hater. Our main character and a timeless gem of the show, he's a pathetic wet cat, he's rusted and falling apart, and he meets god. The perfect man! Rusty obviously has the greatest arc over the entire story, he's our underdog and incredibly charming in all his forms. Overtime some actors have played him up as sassier while others amped up the wet cat energy (Looking at you, Javeen), but no matter how he's played you will feel sorry for him and likely fall in love with him. He's so overconfident at the start but is very quickly brought down by the other engines, fear not though, because he's the main guy!! I'll yap more about his whole thing in the story section. _______ The old steam engine: Had to make the title gender neutral w/ these guys bc GUESS WHO ELSE GOT GIRL'D IN 2018! Poppa, or in terms of Bochum 2018 and onward, Momma, is Rusty's mentor and the only other steam engine in the show. Quite stubborn, preachy in more ways than one, but ultimately good at heart. They're the engine that pushes Rusty to race and encourages Rusty to seek faith in the Starlight Express (Eyyyy title drop!). Most of this engine's role is story related too so I'll save that for then.

Poppa (Bochum, 1997, ft. Rusty), Momma (Bochum, 2018, ft. Dustin) _______ The freight: For the convience of I'm afraid to hit the word count, we're gonna lump the cars into whole sections. Minus one specific member of the freight due to plot significance. Anyway the freight!! Lots of people are big fans of them and I can't blame them. Though they went through a few changes here and there, they're usually a pretty consistent group (once again, minus 2024). From 1984 to 2003 they contained the boxcars aka the Rockies, then productions between 2003 and 2018 included the Hip Hoppers, with the 2018 rehaul marking the return of the Rockies to the show. All productions included Flat-Top the brick truck and Dustin the big hopper, and while Dustin does play a significant role in the show...there's a certain sixth member that plays the greatest role of all the freight. _______ The Red Caboose: Though his Bochum rehaul design spells out "brake van" on his shoulders (even though brake vans aren't cabooses, rant for another day) and he's gone by the Red Caboose for far longer, most know this beloved boy as CB...buuut the version that is widely marked as CB isn't technically CB! That was his original name in regards to the radio codes he used throughout the show- "10-4, smokey bear!" -C.B., 1984 "10-7, gone to heaven!" -Included in the segment after the first run of the final race -but his original name was dropped upon the entry to Broadway, from then on he was just the caboose, and he continues to be so to this day! No matter the production...or at least the ones he's in, he sticks out from the start as one of the guys to keep your eye on. And I'm sure you caught that, that's right, he's not even in every production! Though he is in most of them! His role is another plot heavy one so I'm sure you get the deal by now.

CB (London, 1984), Caboose (Bochum, 2006) _______ The Coaches: The girls, the lasses, the women, etc etc!!! Full of lovely ladies (again, not mentioning 2024's changes) and honestly the true stars of the show in my eyes. In this group is where you'll find our other main character! But would you believe they've also undergone swaps? Originally it was Pearl the observation car/first class carriage, Dinah the dining car, Ashley the smoking car, and Buffy the buffet car, and it remained that way for a long time...but there was an odd period in which Ashley was replaced with a sleeping car named Duvay, though Duvay didn't last very long in the grand scheme of things. Upon the 2018 rehaul, Buffy and Ashley were replaced with Carrie the luggage van and Belle the bar car. Belle actually shares her name with a coach that was present all the way up into the broadway production, though not really used afterwards. Belle the sleeping car was a companion to Poppa and while not part of the main quartet of coaches would usually appear with the other girls for Girls Rolling Stock! Broadway did OG Belle dirty but that's another rant for another day. Again, for simplicity's sake, we'll only individually cover the gals you absolutely gotta know about. _______ Pearl the observation car/first class carriage: Pearl girl!!! Very near and dear to me, our secondary main character and Rusty's love interest. The label for what type of coach she is varies from production to production, all you need to know for certain is she's a super shiny new coach and Rusty is absolutely INFATUED with her...but she's her own coach too, and she's not as quick to settle as he is. She makes it very clear that she wants her choices to be her own and she's not going to let someone else make those choices for her no matter what. She has her own little arc too. While in older productions Pearl is painted as being new but still having an established bond with Rusty, newer ones (aka bochum and london's current shows) paint Pearl as a completely new coach who doesn't know anyone and literally just got here, making her and Rusty's relationship a bit more fleshed out...but we'll discuss that more later!

Pearl (Bochum, 2011), Pearl (Bochum, 2019) _______ Dinah the dining car: HARD to not just ramble about how much I adore her. I am her she is me we are the same person, ESPECIALLY her 2024 variant same taste in women fr. A southern accented (usually) dining car, Dinah is Greaseball's partner with honestly a very inspiring little arc of her own, she's emotional and devoted to her partner but is not to be mistaken as someone who can't stick up for herself, because she makes it crystal clear that she's not someone to be pushed around. She was given even more of a powerful and independent personality in the 2018 rehaul/london revival, but she's always had fight in her from the very beginning!

Dinah (Bochum, 1993), Dinah (Bochum, 2018) AND WHOOPS TOO LONG OF A POST FOR TUMBLR. I'M GONNA HAVE TO PUT THE PLOT IN THE REBLOGS HOLD ON TIGHT. EDIT: I AM GOING TO HAVE TO MAKE A SEPARATE POST NOT A REBLOG BECAUSE TUMBLR WON'T SAVE THE REBLOG AS A DRAFT.

#Wolf's Starlight Express tag #IM NORMALLL ABOUT THESE TRAINS IM NORMALLLL #ty Starlight Express for actually genuinely saving my life I am being so fr when I say I don't think I could be here without it.#SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER #I got rabid abt this and then I got busy and then drama happened BUT ITS HERE NOWWW. Half of it at least.#btw you can.....dm me if u wanna I've got links to some boots that as far as I know are fully okay to share through dms

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calocera · 8 months ago

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some predictions for the new stex bc i’m thinking about it a lot:

finally a purple character. i just think it’s weird how there hasn’t been ANY

major overhaul of gb and dinah’s relationship. this is more of a hope than a prediction bc if it stays the way it is that’ll be baaaaad. my prediction is that they’ll start as friends and end up as a couple at the end rather than breaking up and getting back together

adding an actual song for the “nationals” or whatever the new trains are going to be called.

conversely they are going to try to minimize them as much as possible, cutting the national entry

they/them electra (kinda a given, but i think it’ll be brought up somehow in dialogue)

i think they will bring back some sort of costume change for rusty after starlight sequence a la broadway

without a cb character idk how they will have the races make sense (like in the new london) so i assume there will either be a whole new character that serves the same purpose as him, or greaseball/electra will somehow take over his roll in race sabotaging just without an accomplice

off of that, i’ve heard people say oil slick or porter could be the new cb, i also think it could be tassita! the not-main character coaches have not had anything to do in the new bochum production (which i feel like is where most of the inspiration is coming from) so having a coach be villainous would give them something to do in the narrative. at the same time gary sheridan is in the cast but not listed as to who they will be playing, i could see them coming back as cb and it just hasn’t been announced yet (they covered for him often)

i think they will stick with the new bochum costuming for the main cast, but i personally am hoping the costumes are entirely different. i am thinking they might do blonde gb so the blonde & black haired dynamic with dinah is kept (since i think they’ll be going with the black dinah wig) i hope they go back to pink pearl but idk

the casting call listed more than just roller skates so EITHER the trax roll will be expanded OR the different types of train will use different types of skates

more a want than a prediction, but i hope they lean more into the toy aspect of the show. personally i find it very underutilized

they are going to either bring back the vegas style projections (they said projections will be used a lot) OR they will use projection tech to create a more fleshed out set for the different scenes. stuff like desertscapes for the races and indications of the time of day.

if the rockies aren’t going to be in the show i still think right place right time will be included, just sung by someone else. it’s one of the only songs in the show to never get changes, so i think it’s be crazy to completely remove it

i’ve always thought there’s been a big hole in the show after race one since there’s me was cut, so i think they’ll add a new dinah centric song there, i could also see them moving i got me somewhere around this point (or in place of girls rolling stock) because it just makes more sense in those places than where it currently is in the show

#we shall see #i hope i don’t eat my boot on a lot of these bc i hope they actually put SOME effort into making it…good dare i say #starlight express #stex revival #<- ig i’ll use this tag for posting about it

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omegaremix · 3 months ago

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Cold Waves @ Warsaw; September 15 & 16, 2022.

If I told you that I was feeling shaky going into attending Cold Waves, you’d write me off instantly. Why would I still feel nervous about attending shows? Sure, the event is everything, but every trip to grandiose New York City is still a major thing for me. It’s still feels like uncharted territory and I’m still not over it but it has everything Long Island fails to provide: the venues, the people, the exciting energy, and an allure I still can’t put my finger on. It’s all for the taking, whereas on Long Island I had way more than enough. Also: anxiety. (Film at 5.)

I was only mere days away and I had to get ready for two straight nights of taking trains to and from Brooklyn. Cold Waves would be the third show I’d attend this year - fourth if I cared going to Ministry’s “Industrial” Strength tour which I didn’t go to. I was a frantic wreck anticipating this industrial legends / synthwave festival. The tremors in my black heart would stop only if I finally arrived at Warsaw. It’s my third visit there. The first was for Hospital Productions’ 20th Anniversary and the second was for Black Marble and Cold Cave on a hot June day - before my world, my momentum, and soul were all upended.

I don my black cap, a Clock DVA shirt, blue jeans, black boots and new black leather jacket. It’s sunny out, a hazy blue sky is being invaded by cumuluses all over the place - perfect conditions for an afternoon drive westward on the Long Island Expressway, down on Sagtikos Parkway, through Southern State to Rt. 231, and heading south to Rt. 27A to the Babylon station. I took no chances catching the earlier one-hour train to Penn Station, then hopped on the ‘E’ line to Court Square’s ‘G’ line to Greenpoint Ave. The train ride was bliss as hardly anyone was on it.

It was 6:15 PM when I stepped off the G and went upstairs to Greenpoint, my favorite Brooklyn neighborhood. It only took me 15 minutes to walk a few blocks down to Driggs Av. in Kings County’s Polish neighborhood. It’s only 6:30 PM and already I’m being greeted by a crowd of three at the very front of the line. One of them saw my DVA shirt and gave me two thumbs up. “Great shit, man!”, he said. I smiled and my heart rate went up 20.00% knowing I made the right choice of t-shirt for night #1 of Cold Waves. I found myself standing at the exact same spot on line more than four years ago when I waited to enter the venue for Cold Cave and Black Marble. It was that very corner where Wes Eisold stood with Genesis P. Orridge before that show. Doors open at 7 PM as all of us trudge towards the venue for our security checks before entering paradise where I’m immediately hit with the smell of incense, a special smell distinct to my Brooklyn travels and nowhere else.

The music existed before the beginning of time and it was pumping. No wonder - DJ Andi (Harriman) was behind the wheels of steel. She’s a fixture of the neighborhood where she fit perfectly with the industrialists and synth-wave demographic that populate there. With me being 15th in line, I won a spot up front. As always without fail. I was feeling great about what was about to go down for the next five hours. The first person I thought of was my Roman goth friend Lira* who I wished was there with me. She would’ve blended in with all these vampires, witches, and mistresses attending; many walking around wearing 242, Wax Trax, Pig, Pigface, Hocico, and Twin Tribes shirts.

7:45PM is here. The dee-jay fades out, the overheads turn off and the first act is ready to go. Cold Waves is finally underway.

Spike Hellis was the first of ten on the roster and kicked off the entire festival. The fresh Los Angeles duo have enjoyed a new sizable uptick of exposure. They were active and had lots of energy on stage; a theme that they’d set the tone for the entire program. Their fast-paced EBM, electro, and electronic hybrid was a fine example of the current sound that Los Angeles had to offer. Both Cortland Gibson and Elaine Chang traded instrumental and (screaming) vocal duties with each other while conveying themes of agony, control, rage, emotional despair, and submission that rubber-stamped their own pandemic-era, all accentuated at the end with an annoyed Chang dealing the finger to an audience member as the cherry on top. Who knows what happened there? What I do know was that someone threw an empty beer can at them during their set and security called him out on it; eyes and pointy fingers in his direction with a one-and-final warning not to do it again.

For those wondering why Rein is being highly praised all over, you’ll see why. One of two solo acts, Rein wasted no time taking the stage and it wasn’t long for her to show everyone why she’s one of the most talked-about synthwave acts of recent. It’s not just her razor-sharp EBM delivery and style but also her choreography which made her perfectly groove to the music. She can seriously move it like no other and also delivered plenty of hard-edged sounds of equal measure. It was more than enough to ask who the fuck Shakira was, because she’s got nothing on her. It wasn’t just Rein who was motioning to the music. I look to my right and seen a good number of people getting into it, too; such as the guy three spaces away from me who happened to be wearing a gas mask through her set. After she closed out her set came another intermission. The next three legendary acts have yet to come into play and right behind me are three belligerent drunks (one male and two females) fighting over who bumped into who, not saying ‘excuse me’, who stood where, and lots of name-calling and f-bombs lobbed at each other’s slovenly faces. Not a dull moment so far.

Portion Control was the third and most enduring act of the festival with their debut cassette release A Fair Potion dating all the way back to 1980. I’ve constantly heard of them through new-wave, industrial, and synthwave circles. It’s my first go at them and Wow. They. Nailed. It. They became one of the very few artists I ever discovered to give me a perfect example of everything I was looking for on the very first listen. Perhaps the hungriest, meanest, and venomous act I discovered live or not. I may have caught them at their best ever and it lead me to the three Seed e.p.’s. Onstage, Dean Piavanni was a vocally sinister, persuasive, and direct force who could’ve easily taken on the audience (and would’ve won); as Jon Whybrew was on the controls transmitting ultra-energetic and juiced-up EBM and industrial techno for the small masses. It was the most exciting payout of the night so far.

If there was ‘the’ reason that attending Cold Waves was an absolute must, it was the team of former Wax Trax and Ministry members Paul Barker and Chris Connelly. They are part of the reason why everyone had some of the best moments of their lives and made for some of the greatest industrial releases ever. Billed as The Revolting Cocks Corpse and in conflict with Al Jourgensen’s version of the band, it would be their last-ever appearance. I hate to admit, a scratch off the bucket list was long overdue and years in waiting. Now, here was my chance of seeing both of them live in one shot.

Want real-deal Cocks classics? You got ‘em. Paul Barker handled his iconic bass logo-ed with the Cocks’ Beers, Steers & Queers emblem on it before kicking off with “38” and brought out former Cock (Front 242’s) Richard 23 on vocals. After that comes Connelly onstage in casual wear in a trucker hat, jeans, and a shirt that’s scrawled “Strong And Pretty” on the front, so we’re getting the nutty version of him. Then the rest of the hits came rolling in: “Attack Ships On Fire”, “Cattle Grind”, “Crackin’ Up”. When Connelly asked himself out loud what else to play, the audience yelled “Let’s Get Physical” (rest in peace, Olivia Newton John). “Well, I didn’t ask for your help!” he said coyly to all of us and we couldn’t help but to laugh. They did cap off their monumental set with “Do Ya’ Think I’m Sexy” and it felt like a dream. Connelly leans on the speakers acting all cute and blowing kisses to the crowd with a smile. Before you know it, he’s laying on the floor with arms wide open like he’s just fallen in love as Barker and company call it a night. Nothing but good times and an ultimate culmination of their Wax Trax output as I hoped for.

Finally, it was Front 242’s turn to take the stage; the apex of an already high-flying night. It would be a bittersweet performance at that as this was one of many shows on what was their final U.S. tour. Many fans thought it was because of Jean-Luc De Meyer health issues but thankfully that wasn’t the case. No matter, it was everyone’s last chance in the states to catch them before leaving North America once and for all with no turning back. I considered Front 242 to be a bonus for me as I was heavily into their pioneering Eighties material during my community college years, their later albums, and C-Tec which De Meyer took part in. I had absolutely nothing to lose seeing them live. All throughout the night I’ve seen photographers-for-hire huddle around the space in-between the rail and stage getting their dozens of shots in. For Front 242, the three-song policy got extended to four. It had to be. Warsaw security managed to catch one snap artist who didn’t know better.“No flash! No flash!” they told him as they pointed at and called him out on it. Which also begged the question: where the hell is Brooklyn’s industrial / synthwave fixture-photographer Nikki Sneakers? It’s been at least five years since I’ve seen her shooting at venues.

Front 242 played their most-recognizable and popular classics that established and pioneered EBM with “Don’t Crash”, “Operational Tracks”, “U-Men” and many more. It was all Richard 23, De Meyer, and Patrick Codenys in their unmistakable iconic tactical outfits with a shirtless Tim Kroker on live drums. They took all the power and energy they had and kept it going all the way, delivering nothing short of a rhythmic and beat-heavy experience they were known for. One funny moment to be seen was when De Meyer stood cross-armed wearing his huge shades and had such a scowl on his face, looking all bad-ass as the other three carried on. After eight or nine songs, 242 left the stage - not to lock targets and catch men - but to gear up for their first encore. We all knew there was more to come and what came was “Headhunter”, one of industrial / EBM’s most historic songs ever written. Two more songs later and 242 left the stage again charging up for another encore. As soon as we all heard the soundbyte “Hey, Poor!”, it meant only one thing: “Welcome to Paradise”. Only then was the perfect Front 242 show complete. The team of 23, De Meyer, Codenys, and Kroker took in a lengthy applause and gave a standing ovation as they all thanked New York City and bid farewell. The lights turn on for all of us to head out of Warsaw. I turn around to get going and behind me I see a female fan being consoled by her husband - and she’s in tears. Either she finally fulfilled her life-long dream of seeing Front 242 or saddened that they would say goodbye and farewell to the states, never to return.

The first five acts were amazing. It felt like I did a great service to myself in attending. I already checked off all the boxes I wanted to: take mass transit, visit Greenpoint, see Barker and Connolly play, and be associated with my kind of people. A night out in Brooklyn never fails and the thrills would still continue after the show ended. There’s always the experience of taking the alphabet and number lines - taking the ‘G’ and then the ‘7’ line to walk from 10th St. towards the Empire State Building and then arriving at Penn Station all by one-in-the-morning. Like the ride from Babylon to Penn Station, the reverse ride was quiet and not as crowded as a can of sardines. More exhilarating was the ride from Babylon back home where all the roads were empty and quiet, leading up to driving east on a wide-open Sunrise Highway at three in the morning and getting home all in 25 minutes time.

Night One of Cold Waves was now in the record books.

**********

Friday afternoon? Well, what an adventure. I had no idea that traffic was literally paralyzed on Sagtikos Parkway. It was that point where I knew it would be down to the wire getting to the Babylon station. From then on, I was finding every inch I could to cut other drivers off, find detours, and get head-starts while waiting for green lights and cursing out turtle drivers. Traffic was tight and every decision counted. One minute I thought I was going to make it and the next minute I was doubtful. South on Commack Road, down Deer Park Avenue then Route 231, and finally to Route 27A where I was only a few thousand feet away from the station. I arrive at the parking lot across from the station, bolted out of my car, ran across the street and up the stairs like a motherfucker. I finally reach the platform and - it’s taking off. Fucking great.

I had one hour until the next train to figure out how to unfuck myself and get to Warsaw in time. I tried signing up for OMNY (New York City’s wireless transit pay) months ago but was unsuccessful. Now time to try again. I downloaded the Apple Pay app- and then had to call the bank to connect my card. Now that it’s tied to my phone, I tired again to sign up for OMNY. Success! The 4:35 PM Babylon train arrives and I had 55 minutes to map out the quickest path in getting to my destination. The train arrives at Penn Station and I waste no time hauling ass to the ‘E’ line. Here we go. I hover my phone over the turnstile and - GO. Raced up and down the flights of stairs and I catch the ‘E’ train by five seconds before its doors closed. I take another 20 minutes to cool down before the transfer to Court Square / 23rd Street’s ‘G’ line. I hop off, sprint, and find the ‘G’ train that would take me to the Nassau Avenue stop, the closest one to Warsaw. It took me about two minutes and 1,000 feet to get there. I finally arrive out of breath before I go through the security checks and magic wands before entry. All clear. It’s 7:40 PM. Five minutes to go and I’m at the exact same spot I was the night before. All worship to Lucifer that I made it.

And now, night two begins.

If there was any artist to kick off Friday’s festivities that represented his hometown and carried its flag, then Confines was it. The hard-hitting, beat-heavy industrial-techno / EBM project certainly had some punch to it. Like Rein, Confines was a one-person show who did all of his instruments and movements on his own. Not bad at all. At the time of this writing I learned something about him that totally kicked me off of my seat: Confines happened to be David Castillo, co-owner of Brooklyn’s Saint Vitus bar and venue, host of the Age Of Quarantine podcast, and lead singer of Primitive Weapons. Are you fucking kidding me?! I was on the lookout to spot him at my last visit to -Vitus to see Uniform but I was shit out of luck. Now I finally found him performing at Cold Waves and didn’t even know that was him until after the fact! Fucking right. And it doesn’t stop there. I also learned that both Geography Of Nowhere 1 and Work Up The Blood was mixed and mastered by Hospital Productions’ Kris Lapke / Alberich and laid out by Sannhet’s AJ Annunziata. Wow. Talk about getting five-in-a-row on that bingo card.

Fans of Vancouver musicks enjoyed a two-for-one approaching the middle of the night’s bill. We were all treated to Leathers consisting of Shannon Hemmett (vocals), Kendall Wooding (synths), and Adam Fink (drums). For anyone who wanted the 2022’s tense of what an Eighties’ synthpop / new-wave show would look like? Well, now you have it. It was a treat seeing them perform and also seeing the slender Hemmett as an Eighties dream while Wooding and Fink played a smooth mid-tempo set. But with a wardrobe change and Jason Corbett coming into play, Leathers became Actors and Artoffact’s flagship band was the iteration that appeared on everyone’s radar as of late. They traded in their Eighties’ synthpop and new-wave cool for heavier rock. This time Hemmett took over synth duties and Wooding wielded bass as Fink stayed on drums and Corbett helped Actors push more power and electricity into their second set to keep the excitement steady from start to finish. I tried out both Leathers / Actors before and for some reason they’re not my type of heavy-rotation listening. However, there’s no denying that their talent brought them their well-deserved fanfare and exposure.

Not since Merzbow’s personnel bringing out his gear at Output have I been bracing myself with another artist’s set-up. Lighting fixtures attached all over and bulbs placed in front of huge cymbals might’ve told me that the next set would burn my eyes right off my face. Luckily, I was wrong. That was Kite’s visual set-up and a precursor to their performance. The Swedish duo of Niklas Stenemo and Christian Berg were another act I never heard anything of, and afterwards tilted me to give them a shot. Both were skilled in playing two keyboards at once (or keys- and knobs in Berg’s case) as they delivered a lively performance and Stenemo a few kicks, switching between synth-wave and synthpop. Their latest single “Bocelli” was the highlight on the night, showing their dramatics while also providing a soulful, heartfelt, and at times acclaimed power.

While Kite tore down their equipment, I thought of something. It’s been five years since I attended Hospital Production’s 20th Anniversary. I remember one moment near the end of the showcase when Bone Awl was playing their set - where all of a sudden Dominick Fernow (Prurient and Hospital- label-head) runs to the apron, stage-dives over the pit, and into the audience for a crowd-surf. It was a moment that never escaped me since then. Here I am back again at Warsaw for Cold Waves five years later and I’m at the rail for both nights. During one intermission, something dawned on me - I look at the rail, then the edge of the stage, and then the rail once again. I thought to myself: how in the fuck did Dominick have enough clearance to fly in the air, avoid banging into the rail, and land safely on top of the crowd? Good thing he successfully pulled off that spectacular feat.

Asterisk: New York City was supposed to receive Stabbing Westward as the closer to Cold Waves but had to bow out. That’s where Cold Cave gladly stepped in and ultimately sealed the deal for Cold Waves’ entire New York City stop. “Remember when we last played here?” lead singer Wes Eisold asked the audience. Yes I do, Wes. Yes I do. Seeing Cold Cave again for the second time in the same venue was another special bonus to me, and always a welcome one at that. I walk through previously-ventured territory and this time it was just as exciting as the last. All hits and zero misses from Eisold, his lady Amy Lee, and company. “Glory”, “People Are Poison”, “A Little Death To Laugh”, “Confetti”, “Rainbow Girls”, “Godstar”, “Theme From Tomorrowland”. You named it, they played it. For 50 minutes they kept a steady upbeat energy of synthwave and classic goth pedigree; not to mentions tons of smoke and fog fired towards our way to where I’m seriously considering getting myself screened. The only difference between their 2018 appearance and this one at Cold Waves? No sign of Max G. Morton, and Eisold’s heroine Genesis P. Orridge who joined him on guest vocals had sadly passed away since then.

But there was one shining onyx that fit the head jewel of the crown: when Eisold and Amy Lee brought their daughter out on stage. How fucking amazing was that? The audience collectively melted. Imagine being in your single-digits and having an amazing story to tell your friends back in school about how your rock-star dad brought you up on stage to sing for the crowd. Through their entire set, Cold Cave never let up and missed any of their targets as Eisold, Amy, and the rest played through their last encore and that’s all they wrote.

Before I knew it, it’s 12:20AM. Cold Waves in New York City was now history.

**********

I walk out of Warsaw and away from the busy volume of the patrons standing around in front of it. The night skies changed their tune to a purplish overhead. They were nice enough to wait until my moment was over to return. I’m now processing how to put the last 48 hours into words and also my place in the universe after being where I wanted to be. I head west on Driggs Street through McCarren Park weaving through the pedestrians walking towards me and observe a few small groups of people congregating and chilling on park grounds with their portable speakers. It’s only a few more blocks before I enter the ‘L’ line that will connect me to the ‘2’ line.

If only I can tell you the city’s delights that I’ve seen during my travels to Penn Station. I’ve seen female torture artists and double-pigtailed mistresses in their black onesies and shiny knee-high boots. There’s an Asian girl my height in a low-cut purple dress and her thigh is all bloodied and bandaged up; situated below her very visible purple underwear. Across from me was this gay guy who was the stunt double for The Ukiah Drag’s Tommy Conte, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek and sad-gazing in his boyfriend’s eyes who boarded off the ‘L’, but not before he blew Tommy a kiss goodbye. Another couple hopped on our crowded car. His blonde girlfriend’s neck and chest were literally covered red with hickeys and didn’t give a soaring aerial fuck about all the eyes and stares aimed at her. The ‘L’ ends and I transfer to the quick ‘2’ which only took five minutes to get me to Penn Station, leaving me with a half-an-hour wait for the Babylon train to arrive. Lather, rinse, and repeat with a left-hand forward ride to the station and another Sunrise Highway night drive back to my quiet-as-night neighborhood. A return to silent normalcy.

**********

Chicago has been widely known as the industrial capital of the U.S. It’s where Jim Nash and Danny Flescher established Wax Trax as a record store and the label that’s given birth to the careers and legacies of Ministry, KMFDM, My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult, Meat Beat Manifesto, and countless other acts. It’s also where Public Image Ltd.’s Martin Atkins created Pigface and Invisible Records and gave life to Chemlab, Damage Manual, Dead Voices On Air, Murder Inc., Ritalin, Sheep On Drugs, and Test Dept. All these artists made my identity, or part of it. Throughout the years I’ve followed all of my favorite artists and have never given up on them. They were there for me during my difficult times at community college and to this day I’ve never tired of their projects. It wasn’t until recently when I revisited the classics that I realized that these artists and labels were in my heart all along. Millions of industrialists join each other in various online groups to share their stories and live memories and say “hi!” to the many legends who lurk around and keep that cameraderie going. I see the company around me in Greenpoint who share similar interests, qualities, and aesthetics and those are the people I want to be associated with.

I thought attending just one Boy Harsher show was a rite of passage. Yes - more in the synthwave world. I’ve also attended shows for Nine Inch Nails, Ministry, and Killing Joke and that’s more than enough for me to hoist my flag for this genre. (Naysayers will wave their filthy unclean fingers at me and say “not so fast” because I wasn’t able to go to a Skinny Puppy show.) I’ve heard many great things about Cold Waves that I’d be a fool to miss out. Mutuals who went told me it’d be amazing and they were double-right. With Front 242’s final American appearances and with Braker and Connelly having to quit the RevCo name, this year was a non-negotiable. What started out as a one-night benefit and an honor of Jason Novak (Acumen Nation, DJ? Acucrack) and David Schock’s fallen friend Jamie Duffy evolved into an (almost) annual round of the best and legendary industrial, synthpop, and synthwave acts. Like my attendance with the previous Cold Cave and Black Marble shows, attending Cold Waves was a thank-you to the scene that gave me an identity but also to a certain number of acts that helped build it.

It’s been one of the best and most exhilarating moments of the year, ranking as high as Sacred Bones’ 15th anniversary. If the line-up for next year is as good or better (how could it?), then I guarantee you I’ll be returning.

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nickkkdoesstuff · 1 month ago

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33 and 24 with Raph and Traximus!!

Haii <3

Ask meme

24. Which of the two is the most competitive?

Trax, he's got a bit of an ego lmao but his competitiveness comes in handy with the kids (who can give him a run for his money sometimes) or during training/wrestling with Raph

33. Who has the most nightmares and how do they deal with them?

Definitely Raph has the most, he wakes up in cold sweat and shaking and not quite awake yet so shake him out of them can be difficult but there's nothing a good and solid hug can't fix, just like a weighted blanked Trax holds him until his breathing evens and the shaking lessens. Then they would talk it out or just be in silence together buried on each other's arms or chest, neither of them being able to sleep after.

#nickkk.txt #rapximus #lone man au

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formeryelpers · 1 month ago

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Salt Lake City International Airport, W Terminal Dr, Salt Lake City, UT 84122

The Salt Lake City International Airport is currently undergoing a $5.1 billion redevelopment program. Phase 1 opened in the fall of 2020, Phase 2 in the fall of 2023, and Phase 3 in the fall of 2024 (a tunnel to concourse B). I think Phase 4 is the final phase. They’ll be done in time for the 2034 Winter Olympic Games (they’re the host city).

The airport has one terminal, two concourses (A & B), and 68 gates. It is a major hub for Delta and offers nonstop service to international and national destinations, including Amsterdam and Seoul.

The new terminal looks beautiful and futuristic – complete with public art and wavy white walls that change colors. The seating is also wavy and white. They added new carpets, new seats, and lots of power outlets. The airport is smoke-free. Motorized walkways will help you get around. Wi-fi was free.

It’s also conveniently located, just five miles northwest of downtown. You can catch the Green Line TRAX light rail train to downtown and other areas of SLC.

The security line was short and I passed through without any issues. They had the body scanning technology. Laptops had to be taken out and put in a separate bin (some airports no longer require this).

There were three levels accessible by stairs, elevators, and escalators. They had shopping (clothing, makeup, technology, snacks, magazines, books) including MAC, LEGO, and COACH, Minute Suites (if you want to take a nap), and a wide variety of dining options (including Shake Shack, Burger King, Auntie Anne’s, Panda Express, Wow Bao). There was a store just for Utah Jazz fans. They no longer offer froyo.

I wish they had a few more local vendors like Beans & Brews, Bruges, and Vessel Kitchen. I could tell that the food options included healthy options like salads, juice, and acai bowls.

The restrooms were fine and the signs were clear.

4.5 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

#Salt Lake City International Airport #airport #Salt Lake City #Delta #airport shopping #airport dining

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punk-chicken-radio · 1 year ago

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ax trax of the week

youtube

siouxsie and the banshees - i'l est né divin enfant

i will never not love this train wreck of a video 🖤

-ax

#ax trax of the week #siouxsie and the banshees #robert smith #i'l est né divin enfant #Youtube

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maddys-nerd-blog · 1 year ago

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Here’s another snippet of my AU, Familia: Gone in a Flash!! This one’s the angsty piece that I drew up a few weeks ago, so be prepared, there’s tons of whump 😅😂

Heart lurching into her windpipe faster than a runaway train, Katie suddenly lost the ability to breathe. “Oh my God!” She almost dropped her gun in her panic, shoving past Traximus immediately as she broke into a sprint. “MY BOYS!”

She tried the door. No dice; it had been locked. Trying to pry the latch of the handle she pushed against it with all her bare strength, grunting and growling with the strain. The muscles in her neck and biceps popped, her blood was racing, adrenaline kicking into overdrive to keep her moving.

“Stand back!“ Traximus moved her aside, bracing his hands into the steel bar and wrenching it upwards, metal groaning under his clutches. The Triceraton wasted no time in ripping the latch off with a terrible scream of titanium being shredded apart, the sound rattling her skull with a vengeance.

She slammed her shoulder into the decrepit door, smashing it wide open with an all-too loud crash. Metal hinges screeched in protest from the impact, rusty screws popping free and flying in random directions. Katie moved through the shadowy entrance with haste, heart palpitating, blood racing. Nothing was on her mind. She couldn’t think straight.

Nothing mattered except getting her boys home. Put the mission first. Put the kids first.

Get them home above all else.

Protect and Serve.

The mantra rooted itself into her core. No amount of time that passed would erase the fundamental purpose of what created her, drove her, gave her the means to keep fighting. The boys had changed her. Leo, Donnie, Raph, Jason… they’d given her what she’d been denied her entire life.

They had given her the chance to be a mom.

And they were depending on her to get them out of here. Now more than anything, she couldn’t let herself get tangled in that anger.

Katie clutched her pistol in an iron grip, white-knuckled, the trigger pressing down ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Moving through a disgustingly messy floor where debris and planks of wood were left scattered, the detective looked around with urgency, emerald eyes piercing the darkness. “BOYS!?”

Her voice bounced off the walls. Nothing.

“BOYS!” She bellowed again, voice cracking. “BOYS I’M HERE!”

Again, no response other than the echo of her cries taunting her.

Por favor, no. Don’t let them be dead. A terrible chill grabbed her shoulders and shook her like a rag-doll. Please don’t let them be dead. Please don’t let me be too late. Not again.

“DONATELLO!” Katie called desperately. “LEONARDO! RAPHAEL!” Swallowing a sob to repress the daunting horror threatening to eat her alive she cried out, “JASON! MIJO!”

Dead silence was her reply.

She advanced further into the warehouse, gun still clutched fiercely in two trembling hands. “BISHOP! COME OUT AND FUCKING FACE ME, YOU COWARD!”

Katie looked around the vacant space. It was cleared out, all remnants of shattered glass from the skylight windows or the concrete rubble pushed aside to create some kind of arena. Metal pipes blocked off an emergency fire exit, welded together to form a blockade that sealed the automatic doors shut from the inside. Something suspicious that caught her eye was a rigging system of some kind tethered to the far left side of the room, a pulley leading towards the ceiling.

Before she could investigate, Traximus shouted in pain from somewhere in the darkness behind her.

Red flags shot up in her the back of her head, hairs on her neck rising. Cocking the safety off her pistol she whirled around, gun raised and ready to fire. “TRAX?!“

“Unfortunately he can’t come to your aid, Detective.”

Katie’s body went stone cold, cementing her where she stood. Slinking into view in what little light there was coming from the holes in the threadbare roof, Bishop almost seemed to blend in with the shadows, his suit granting him complete secrecy. Sunglasses still hiding his sinister eyes, the agent dragged a prone Traximus with him on the floor, the Triceraton wrapped in thick cables that hummed with electric energy. The warrior still attempted to struggle against his bonds, snarling with anger as he desperately tried to fight back.

Bishop dropped the mighty gladiator to the dusty floor, stepping around the bulkier alien as he approached the woman who aimed a gun straight towards his skull. A callous smirk oozing with a sick sense of intrigue greeted her, his demeanor cocky and arrogant as though his presence was enough to put the fear of God into her. “I almost expected you not to turn up. But here you are! Punctual and with not a second to spare.”

Katie bared her teeth with a silent fury that was drowning her soul. Every fiber in her body roared, demanding blood, demanding retribution, craving the urge to rip this man to pieces for all he’d put her boys through. “Where are they?”

Bishop smirked. “The mutants are alive. Although I’m quite surprised that you didn’t locate them sooner.”

What? Katie leveled her gun to aim for Bishop’s chest, unwilling to take her gaze off him for even a moment, lest he try to attack. “I’m not here to play anymore games, asshole! What did you do to them!?”

The bastard actually started chuckling to himself. Reaching a slender hand to push his sunglasses up higher to rest on the bridge of his nose, the agent shook his head as if he were talking down to a child. “You know, you claim to be clever. But when the cards are down you’re no more than a fumbling buffoon who can’t keep a lid on her anger. It was so easy. All I had to do was take away the thing you held close and watch the fireworks. Humanity is fed by the need to control, to dominate, to learn what we cannot understand. But you, Detective, seem to abandon your human ways in order to protect creatures that only carry a fraction of our intelligence.” His gaze drifted towards her pistol. “The shaking of your firearm proves my point.”

“FUCK OFF!” Taking a step forward to disguise her weakness, Katie shouted at the bigot with a snarl. “Don’t press buttons you aren’t ready to push, coño! Tell me what you did to my boys or so help me—“

Lights flashed on. Out of nowhere there was suddenly blinding rays coming from fixtures in the ceiling, rendering the woman stunned as her world was filled with black spots that flooded around the edges of her vision. She stumbled, crying out with bewilderment, raising an arm to block the worst of the light.

But above her… she heard noise.

Voices. Garbled, incoherent, panicked… scared. Her head whipped up towards the source of the sounds—

And her mouth dropped open with horror.

Strung fifty feet in the air, dangling like ornaments on a Christmas tree, were her boys. The four of them were bound back to back, each of their cords meeting in the middle to connect to a hook that kept them suspended. Their arms were behind them, strands of rope wrapped around their chests keeping them immobile. Gags had been fixed between their teeth— that explained why she hadn’t been able to hear them.

She spotted Raph first. He was furiously kicking his legs, thrashing and bucking in his restraints like a crazed horse, yelling against his gag with protest as he tried to get loose. Mondo was next to him, sandwiched between Raph and Leon, who was also struggling but not as viciously as Raph. She caught the smallest glimpse of Donnie behind them, the youngest unable to see her, fearfully whimpering. Leon kept looking at the purple masked turtle with great empathy, mumbling what would have been words of comfort to a version of his brother he’d grown close to. It broke her heart.

Mondo’s face was slick with tears streaming down his cheeks— bulbous yellow eyes were bloodshot and puffy, like he’d been weeping for hours. His voice was somehow the loudest against the chorus of muffled noises in the group, little legs flailing around in blind panic as he shook and swayed against his ropes. Despite the gag she could still hear him crying out ‘Mom’ to the best of his ability.

Some kind of primal instinct was awakened at that moment. Feral in nature, rabid, wild, manic. An untapped emotion that had never made itself known until now. Baring her teeth she whirled towards Bishop— the mother fucker actually looked amused by the mayhem he’d caused, the genuine fear he’d put into her kids— and she cocked the gun towards his temple, expression contorted into one of malice. “LET THEM GO!”

“Don’t be so brash.” Bishop tutted. “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” She challenged through clenched teeth. “I kill you and the game’s over. You don’t get to destroy any more families.”

“Only I have access to the pulley keeping your precious ‘boys’ from turning into heaps of splattered brains and viscera,” Bishop caught the stunned silence from the woman, gesturing to the rigging system. “This building was constructed one hundred and seventeen years ago. The safety codes aren’t what they are currently to our standards. One little nudge— one misplaced bullet, perhaps— can shatter the pulley’s chain and send the mutants plummeting. Not even you can stop it.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” Katie cocked the pistol, disengaging the safety. “I got them away from you once.”

“And can you help them get away from certain death?” Bishop taunted, taking slow, calculated steps towards her while she fought to maintain her composure. “A fall from that high can kill a regular human being. Think about what kind of damage it could have on a turtle shell or a gecko cranium. I’m told terrapins don’t have spines, but… there’s only one way to find out now, isn’t it?”

Katie’s hands shook madly around the pistol. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Bishop dared. “Go on. Shoot me, Detective,” he approached casually, hands folded behind him until he was well within reaching distance. “You made such a farce, after all! Why should you have to wait any longer?” He leaned forward just a margin, allowing the barrel of her pistol to press into the center of his forehead. “By all means! Do it! Show your dear mutant children how much of a hero you are! But if your shot should slip and strike the pulley… that would be a waste.”

Her heart was beating madly in her ribs. One finger threatened to press the trigger, but her anxiety made her freeze. Bishop could have been bullshitting her. He was a manipulative bastard with the greatest silver tongue on the planet. He’d say anything to mess with her head to second guess herself. Katie’s eyes flickered upward to check on the kids, trying to gauge if the hook keeping them suspended was at risk of potential damage—

Taking her eyes off of Bishop was a mistake.

He moved so fast the human eye couldn’t catch the rush of movement, the sudden blur of black jolting her into shock as he reeled a fist back and made a devastating blow to the bottom of her jaw, knocking her off balance. The bone beneath the skin cracked upon impact, loosening several teeth. It struck the pistol out from her hands, the weapon flying far out of reach. Another hard kick to her gut threw the woman into a crate somewhere beyond the reaches of the spotlight. Sections of her spine crackled instantly.

“And here I thought you were smarter than that!” Bishop laughed at her expense. Picking herself upright she ground her jaw together, every fiber in her body urging her to bludgeon the bastard.

Ripping her cardigan off and discarding it to the wayside, she balled her hands into fists and bellowed at the top of her lungs. “TRY ME, MOTHER FUCKER!” She took a running start as she reeled a fist back to land as solid right hook to his left cheekbone, whipping his head to the side.

Bishop looked at her, fingers raising to touch the developing bruise on his face. A coy smirk rode up his lips. “All that bravado for one punch,” he scoffed, sending icy chills down her spine.

She went to hit him again, only to be blocked. Her swings and jabs were shoved aside as if she were just a kid flailing her arms. His timing was almost infallible; catching her blind spots faster than the human eye could process, calculating her punches and where she was going to land them. If she got lucky enough to hit an area that she suspected was weak, he brushed it off and doubled down with a harder blow. It made her question whether or not he was a robot.

Katie barely managed to maneuver herself up and out of the way of another incoming kick that shattered another crate where she’d been thrown into. Her eyes fluttered, blood oozing out of split lips and shredded skin, struggling to push herself up to her knees to get her bearings. In the clearing she could hear Traximus shouting for her to run, but overhead the boys were screaming.

“Come on, Detective,” Bishop used her title like a slur, spitting it out as though it were a rotten taste left on his tongue. He advanced, shadows cascading sharp features with harsh contours, razor-like against his thin frame. His sunglasses were off, tucked safely into a breast pocket in his jacket, beady orbs wickedly stunning through heavy gradients of black. “I thought you wanted to put me down. Here’s your opportunity!”

She scrambled to her feet— blood rushed to her head, dizziness colliding into her frontal lobe. Staggering, she blinked the spotty blur out of her vision with a fierce shake to snap herself out of it. Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall over goddamn it. Spitting out the coppery liquid that saturated her mouth Katie squinted through the pain, gritting aching teeth, clenching her fists to position herself to take a boxer’s stance. “Don’t… count me out… just yet…”

Bishop’s face twisted— gone was the arrogant charade he was putting on, in its place was a mask of ominous intent. Hardened. “You still persist in the face of defeat. You threw away humanity’s interest in favor of playing house with FREAKS. You shame your badge by sullying it with your sins.”

There was a thick silence that separated them as dense as fog. For a few minutes Katie hadn’t moved, didn’t speak, just… stared at him with brilliant emerald eyes. She hung her head, hair shading a bloody brow as her shoulders began to shake. Bishop pondered if she had started weeping…

But was left baffled when she started keening with laughter.

It was a creaky sound that ripped her throat, full-chested with purpose as the woman practically shrieked uproariously in the face of the sociopath. Bracing her hand against her diaphragm she doubled over, clutching at the skin as if trying to keep it at bay.

Finally, she found her voice. “You think… you think that shit means anything to me? That I give a flying fuck what YOU or other bigots believe? You sound just like my stepmother! Preaching what you don’t understand to simple minded assholes who think acting like animals to other sentient beings is the answer to all your problems! I’d give up my badge in a goddamn HEARTBEAT if it meant I can give those boys the life they deserve! I’ve lived my entire career defending those who couldn’t protect themselves. I’ve watched good cops get killed trying to serve their community. I’ve seen really shitty felons get off scot-free while the families they tore apart have to grieve the loss of a loved one who was butchered just for fun. My badge is my duty to everyone. ANYONE.”

Her fingers dug into the depths of her belt, keeping him talking. A few more inches. “Those boys are my purpose. They deserve to have a life.”

Bishop’s lips curled with disgust. “They’re MUTANTS—“

“They’re children!”

“You’re insane if you believe this rhetoric! Do you honestly think those abominations are capable of blending in to our society?!”

“YES!” Fingertips brushed against the hidden item lodged between her holster and belt. Just a little more. “Why are you so adamant that they can’t?!”

“THEY DO NOT BELONG!” Bishop exclaimed. “Mutants take and destroy all they touch! They’re ravenous! Once they infect one, they infest all! They can’t be allowed to roam this planet! Humans won’t be safe until every single one of them are purged from this soil!” His eyes narrowed ruefully. “And I’ll kill anyone who stands in my way.”

Katie’s lips drew back into a thin line, glaring daggers at the nutcase. “Huh. Well.” Her hand found purchase around the familiar wooden grip of her concealed weapon. “Not me.”

She pounced. She ripped her butterfly knife out of her belt, leaping forward like a spring having been wound too tight. Snapping the blade free with a flick of her wrist, Katie twirled it in her fingers as she tackled Bishop to the wall and, steeling her resolve, plunged it several inches deep into his bicep.

Incensed, Bishop grabbed her face, trying to push her away. Katie bit his fingers just as they attempted to go for her eyes. She drove her knee into his sternum to knock the air out of his lungs, throw him off balance, do something to hinder him from going after the kids. The more time he spent focusing on killing her, the safer the boys would be.

Bishop grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to rip her off of him, in doing so he tore several pieces of black strands free in his iron fist. When her throat was exposed he punched the weak spot where her windpipe was located. She choked, staggering, releasing the agent to try and retreat, but he was faster even with a knife stuck in his arm. He grappled her around the waist, using the momentum to drag her across the floor until he bodily rammed her into a steel beam near the pulley system, rattling both her bones and the support structure.

Katie coughed out blood through clenched teeth, stifling a scream. Two ribs cracked from within her chest. Her head whipped back from the blow and hit the beam, creating a terrible headache that shook her entire skull. The world started to tilt on its axis…

His hands grabbed both sides of her head. Fingers dragging into her scalp Bishop delivered a powerful head-butt to her forehead, crashing their foreheads together. That caused her senses to become nullified, rendering her stunned. He reeled her head back a second time to land devastating punches to her face, over and over, breaking her nose in the process, painting his knuckles with her blood. He seized her shoulders and threw her to the floor, kicking the woman in the abdomen to send her rolling across the ground and back into the clearing where everyone could see her.

“YOU DEPLORABLE BASTARD!” Traximus roared, fighting the electric cords that kept him pinned. “YOU HAVE NO HONOR! FIGHTING YOUR OPPONENT WHEN THEY’RE DEFENSELESS! YOU COWARD!”

“Coming from an alien whose entire race threatened to conquer Earth when humans were defenseless,” Bishop stepped into the center, slammed a foot deep into the depths of Katie’s abdomen and digging his heel in. She tried to reach up to grab at his leg, but he swatted it away. “Don’t worry. Your death will be painless, if you’re lucky.”

“My… life… means… nothing,” Katie rasped between shaky breaths. “Those kids… matter more… to… me.” She spat a mouthful of bright crimson onto his pristine leather loafers, lips cracking a wicked smirk at his expense. “More… than… a shit stain… like you… I bet… your dear old daddy… never loved you either… eh, fuck face?”

Bishop wasn’t impressed by the snide remarks. Instead, he knelt down close, heel sinking deeper into her gut, pressing her down into the floor. Leaning close he whispered in her ear. “Projecting your own problems onto me won’t save you. And those mutants are worth nothing.” He raised himself back up to straddle her, pinning the beaten detective as she writhed to break free. “It is adorable that your delusions tell you otherwise.”

He began to pummel her without a second thought.

Overhead the boys were still causing a ruckus, either shouting or screaming, thrashing wildly in a vain effort to get free. Raph was swinging back and forth, slamming into Leo, knocking him against Donnie as Mondo wept. The gecko made every attempt he could to wriggle loose, even if it meant certain doom by doing so, but he’d been bound so tight it was digging into his being with no mercy. Not once did he stop crying out for his ‘mom’.

Not even Leo was trying to hide the frantic terror that was etched in his features; having to turn his face away from the brutal beatings, flinching each time a bone popped or Katie yelped. Donnie was deathly silent throughout the sadistic process, internally grateful to not have to bare witness to the graphic display of casual violence. Raph was swearing at the top of his lungs, muffled death threats and curses blocked by the fabric cinched in his teeth, the ropes scratching his skin to the point of soreness and rubbing it raw.

The beating went on for fifteen minutes. It felt like a lifetime.

“Admit it!” Bishop punched the woman across the jaw. His pale knuckles were dripping with blood. “You failed these mutants the same way you failed your partner!”

“D-Don’t—“ Katie was cut off by a devastating punch to her cheekbone for a hundredth time.

“You failed your badge. Your rank. Your family.” Bishop grabbed her by the collar and hoisted her up halfway to meet his gaze, the motion of which made her queasy. “Those freaks.”

He dropped her back to the floor. “You’re a disgrace to those you claim you defend. You think you’re bettering yourself? Look in the mirror. All I see is a desperate cry for attention coming out of an alcoholic mess who pretends to play mother to a group of rejected monsters, thinking the entire time she’s doing the right thing.”

A hand snatched her by the hair, rag-dolling her across the floor. Her fingers dug themselves into the dirt stubbornly to try and root herself down, to stop this deranged lunatic from hauling her around. Colors blurred throughout her bloodied eyes, swirling into a cacophony of delirium that threatened to engulf her consciousness and devour her whole. The bones in her right arm were brittle. Her chest was battered, ribs most likely cracked or fractured. She didn’t even want to imagine what her face looked like…

Bishop continued monologuing as though she gave a minute shit as to what he was talking about. “I’ve dedicated hundreds of years to eliminating alien threats that put humanity at risk. I’ve devoted thousands of hours into my efforts to kill any unwanted creature who poses a threat. I’ve spent millions putting my plans into fruition. I’m a man with a purpose to destroy all who seek to stop my goals. Your death will be no different. Nobody shall grieve your loss when I fill your heart with premium lead! YOU’RE PATHETIC!”

He threw her into a table set off to the side, her body crashing down through the flimsy furniture. There was no energy to move, no last second surge of adrenaline. All her strength had been depleted. The ability to breathe became strenuous…

Her half-lidded gaze lifted back towards the boys, all of whom still fought like hell and screamed. Leo could no longer withstand the stress, weeping quietly. Donnie was still turned away from the chaos unfolding, but she could hear him crying for her. Raph somehow was getting louder, almost verbal beneath the gag as he shouted and began to beg, sounding desperate.

Mondo had gone quiet. His golden eyes were glued to her, bloodshot, unable to look away. Soft sniffles cut through the quiet that rung in her ears, deafening from afar. My baby, she wanted to comfort. Mijo…

This couldn’t be how it ended. She couldn’t allow this lunatic to take her boys. She couldn’t let him gleefully drag the kids to lord knows where to be experimented on like science class frogs.

Glassy orbs drifted to the left, aimless. A warm stream of red trickled along the bridge of her nose. I can’t die here. I can’t die. I can’t. I can’t… Tears would have shown themselves had her eyes not been so badly beaten. My boys…

Something glistened in the corner of her delirious vision. Numbly confused, Katie tilted her head enough to gauge what it was that had caught her attention.

Her heart thudded, fast pulses bashing her body like a bull in a caged-in fence.

The kids’ weapons. All discarded like trash in a garbage bag; Mondo’s darts, his skateboard, Leo’s ōdachi, Donnie’s bō and sound channeling headphones, Raph’s sai.

All within reach, unseen in the darkness by Bishop.

Fucking MORON.

She kept the blank expression of agony on her face as he drew near, his hands gripping her own pistol to deal the killing blow. He towered above the woman, a devilish grin of sick satisfaction crawling on a face only a mother could love. “Poor Kathrine. You spent your entire existence running from your problems, but you were too slow to avoid the outcome of your consequences. Rest assured that I’ll personally see to your tombstone.” He cocked the hammer of the gun. “‘Here lies Officer McAndrews! Wasted potential! A crossbreed discarded by her own father! Unloved! Unwanted!” He scoffed, leveling the gun to aim for her heart. “Unneeded.’”

A voice in the back of her head shrieked; MOVE.

Time slowed to a screeching halt.

There was an earth-shattering bang from the pistol. Donnie screamed.

Silence crept throughout the warehouse for eternity.

Bishop’s eyes were popping out of his head, jaw slack, his body rigid where he stood. Unable to scream from the shock of what had just transpired…

Because despite having been shot in the torso, Katie was clinging to him, digging one of Raph’s sai deep into the fragile tissue and muscle of his throat, blood spilling across his suit and her chest.

There was a savagery in her facial expression, canines bared like a lion, a madness in her eyes that blazed hotter than the sun itself. Against all the agony running through her broken body she lifted her other arm to properly grip the sai in both hands, shoving it farther into his throat to sever the windpipe. He choked, trying to push her away but finding himself trapped by her deathlike hold.

“You… won’t…” she slurred, twisting the sword breaker in her fists. “Touch… my… boys!”

She ripped it free. A waterfall of crimson gushed from the fatal injury, the agent coughing and gagging, clutching at his throat as though it would staunch the blood flow. His wild, manic eyes fell upon her, disdain in his snarl as he reached towards her, slipping to his knees until he ultimately collapsed to land on his back.

Katie wasted no time; adrenaline this rampant wouldn’t last long in her condition. She grabbed the garbage bag, stumbling towards Traximus, who was staring up at her with disbelief. Using the blood-soaked sai she snagged the electric cord under its prongs and broke his bonds free.

“Go…” she wheezed, the sai slipping out of her fingers, clattering uselessly at their feet. “Th’ kids…” she buckled dangerously to the side, eyelids fluttering as her feet fell from under her.

“NO!” Traximus caught her before she could slam into the concrete, her body too heavy in his arms as she continued to bleed. “Steady, Kathrine! You must hold on!”

“My boys…” she breathed, airy in tone as she fought the temptation to fall asleep. “Get… m’ boys…”

Traximus looked as though he wanted to protest, but one cautionary glance cast towards the bullet wound and he softened significantly. “… I shall have them free in moments.” He settled her against a small wooden crate, tender in his mannerisms to ease her pain. Then he was gone from her field of view, dashing to the pulley.

From there, a dull buzz filled her hearing. Katie’s body felt… strange. It was heavy, stiff, unwilling to respond. Weighed down by tremendous amounts of pressure leaning into her chest, feeling the sticky blood racing along the curves of her arm, her stomach, her gaping bullet wound. She was also unnaturally tired; sluggishness ebbed away at her senses, as if water was rushing in her ears to drown out all noise surrounding the immediate area.

As though the tidal wave of a grand tsunami has taken hold of her, gradually the world began to ripple into a series of black and white dots that spun around her vision, draining everything of it’s natural colors only to leave it in bland dreariness of monotone gray. Was death this calm? Was it always so bleak? So unsettling?

Katie’s heart was still pulsing to deliver blood to her organs, slower in rhythm, the body shutting down. What good would it do to a woman on death’s door?

Suddenly hands were on her arm, pulling, pleading, imploring. Her emerald orbs fell upon the bulbous eyes of Mondo, newly freed but opening sobbing. Bold, vivid eyes stood out in her world like a lighthouse trapped in a hurricane. Behind him limped Raph, whose biceps and wrists were scarlet and slightly bloody, vibrant in the gray background. He’d fought like a madman. There was a genuine horror that painted his brown irises…

“MOM!” Mondo wept, clutching her arm with all the strength he could muster as if willing her to stand. “MOM! Please, get up! Get up!”

“M’jo…” words were mumbled under her breath, too soft for anyone to catch.

Suddenly blue and purple came into the mix— Donnie’s face turned sickly, his mouth drawing shut, looking faint. Leo wasn’t faring much better, eyes pinned to the detective with a horrified expression; his hand was gripping a particularly gnarly gash on his shoulder she hadn’t spotted. Traximus was back, kneeling at her side. Now her field of vision became filled with orange and yellow and black, voices clamoring for dominance in her ears.

“— go to a hospital!”

“She doesn’t have that chance, her ribs—!”

“Mom please don’t die please please please I don’t wanna lose you—“

“What’re we gonna do?!”

“Do we have any backup spots?!”

“Kathrine stay with us!”

It became too much to listen to, eyes flickering between the young faces of her boys to Trax. I love you guys, she wanted to say. Don’t worry about me. Take care of each other.

A figure moved in the background. Behind Leo and Donnie, far in the dark where she’d shanked the fucker, Katie’s gaze caught onto the lumbering form of—

Her voice cracked, blood gurgling in her mouth as a strangled shout crawled its way out of her. “NO…!”

All five heads snapped up at her urgent tone. Slowly turning their eyes towards the source of her alarm, everyone present was left speechless as their hunter staggered into frame… alive.

Bishop was holding his throat, blood gushing through clenched fingers, huffing and puffing, sweat sticking to his brow. His teeth were bared, looking monstrous. Appearing as if he’d come right out of a slasher film, the sociopath stood with hatred in his eyes as he crooned in a voice not his own, “You… fucking… bitch…!”

Raph seized his sai, clutching them tight as he attempted to take up a fighter’s stance. Donnie dropped to his knees, too terrified to move. Mondo clung to Katie like a lifeline, the woman weakly draping her arm around his back to bring him close to shield him. Traximus became something of a hulking barrier, standing in front of the children and fallen woman with determination.

“You… all…” Bishop removed his hand from his throat, exposing a grizzly stab wound that was somehow stitching itself back together. Muscle, veins, skin started to form around the area where he’d been impaled as though nothing had occurred. “I’m going… to rip… each and every one of you to pieces…!”

The ramping tension finally shattered. At his breaking point, grabbing his ōdachi in a fit of desperation, Leonardo screamed at the top of his lungs with a voice that was heavy with despair. The boy had an ironclad hold of his sword, charging forward, ignoring the startled cries of his friends and wounded caretaker. Bishop smirked, crouching as if to pounce.

But Leo swung his sword. An electric blue magic fizzled in the air. It crackled like thunder ripping across a stormy sky as a vividly bright portal separated Bishop from the group.

Leo looked back towards the others and cried out. “GO!”

Nobody waited a second further.

Traximus gathered Katie into his arms and dashed for the portal, Mondo sprinting right behind him. Donnie seized the garbage bag filled with their weapons and made a break for it. Raph took the rear to protect the younger of the group. The red eared slider glared at the agent with a curdling fury, the sword in his hand twitching with potent energy that sparked at his fingertips. No words were spoken, but the defiant sneer on his face spoke for him; Don’t ever let me see you again.

It wasn’t until everyone was through that Leo himself fell into the exit, the madman’s scream of outrage following them as it faded without a trace.

I really hope you like this!! 🥹

@queen-with-the-quill @tending-the-hearth @lameboobah

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