#warehouse surveillance systems

[aragenlifesciences]

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[securens-systems]

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[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"There are several reasons prison violence, prevalent in the 1960s through the 1980s, has subsided. The most important of these is that prison planners and prison administrators have succeeded in developing a prison operation that greatly reduces the potential for violence. In the new California prisons, the layout of the housing units, the yards, and the entire prison compound facilitates surveillance and rapid response to any disturbance. But more important, the existence of supermax prisons with Segregated Housing Units (SHUs), in which 10,000 prisoners can be kept in secure lockup, has greatly reduced violence in the lower custody prisons. California prison administrators transfer prisoners who have been involved in several violent events or have a high violence potential (because of gang affiliation or some other characteristic) to supermax prisons. This and the fact that prisoners in the lower-custody prisons know that if they cause too much trouble, they will be transferred to the harsher supermax prisons have reduced violence. A Solano prisoner commented: “The minute they opened New Folsom [a supermax prison] things settled down in Old Folsom.”

- John Irwin, The Warehouse Prison: Disposal of the New Dangerous Class. Afterword by Barbara Owen. Los Angeles: Roxbury Publishing Company, 2005. p. 92.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon's bestselling "bitter lemon" energy drink was bottled delivery driver piss

Today (Oct 20), I'm in Charleston, WV at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

For a brief time this year, the bestselling "bitter lemon drink" on Amazon was "Release Energy," which consisted of the harvested urine of Amazon delivery drivers, rebottled for sale by Catfish UK prankster Oobah Butler in a stunt for a new Channel 4 doc, "The Great Amazon Heist":

https://www.channel4.com/programmes/the-great-amazon-heist

Collecting driver piss is surprisingly easy. Amazon, you see, puts its drivers on a quota that makes it impossible for them to drive safely, park conscientiously, or, indeed, fulfill their basic human biological needs. Amazon has long waged war on its employees' kidneys, marking down warehouse workers for "time off task" when they visit the toilets.

As tales of drivers pissing – and shitting! – in their vans multiplied, Amazon took decisive action. The company enacted a strict zero tolerance policy for drivers returning to the depot with bottles of piss in their vans.

That's where Butler comes in: the roads leading to Amazon delivery depots are lined with bottles of piss thrown out of delivery vans by drivers who don't want to lose their jobs, which made harvesting the raw material for "Release Energy" a straightforward matter.

Butler was worried that he wouldn't be able to list his product on Amazon because he didn't have the requisite "food and drinks licensing" certificates, so he listed his drink in Amazon's refillable pump dispenser category. But Amazon's systems detected the mismatch and automatically shifted the product into the drinks section.

Butler enlisted some confederates to place orders for his drink, and it quickly rocketed to the top of Amazon's listings for the category, which led to Amazon's recommendation engine pushing the item on people who weren't in on the gag. When these orders came in, Butler pulled the plug, but not before an Amazon rep telephoned him to pitch him turning packaging, shipping and fulfillment over to Amazon:

https://www.wired.com/story/amazon-let-its-drivers-urine-be-sold-as-an-energy-drink/

The Release Energy prank was just one stunt Butler pulled for his doc; he also went undercover at an Amazon warehouse, during a period when Amazon hired an extra 1,000 workers for its warehouses in Coventry, UK, in a successful bid to dilute pro-union sentiment in his workforce in advance of a key union vote:

https://jacobin.com/2023/10/the-great-amazon-heist-oobah-butler-review

Butler's stint as an Amazon warehouse worker only lasted a couple of days, ending when Amazon recognized him and fired him.

The contrast between Amazon's ability to detect an undercover reporter and its inability to spot bottles of piss being marketed as bitter lemon energy drink says it all, really. Corporations like Amazon hire vast armies of "threat intelligence" creeps who LARP at being CIA superspies, subjecting employees and activists to intense and often illegal surveillance.

But while Amazon's defensive might is laser-focused on the threat of labor organizers and documentarians, the company can't figure out that one of its bestselling products is bottles of its tormented drivers' own urine.

In the USA, the FTC is suing Amazon for its monopolistic tactics, arguing that the company has found ways to raise prices and reduce quality by trapping manufacturers and sellers with its logistics operation, taking $0.45-$0.51 out of every dollar they earn and forcing them to raise prices at all retailers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The Release Energy stunt shows where Amazon's priorities are. Not only did Release Energy get listed on Amazon without any quality checks, the company actually nudged it into a category where it was more likely to be consumed by a person. The only notice the company took of Release Energy was in its logistics and manufacturing department – the part of the business that extracts the monopoly rents at issue in the FTC case – which tracked Butler down in order to sell him these services.

The drivers whose piss Butler collected don't work directly for Amazon, they work for a Delivery Service Partner. These DSPs are victims of a pyramid scheme that Amazon set up. DSP operators lease vans and pay to have them skinned in Amazon livery and studded with Amazon sensors. They take out long-term leases on depots, and hire drivers who dress in Amazon uniforms. Their drivers are minutely monitored by Amazon, down to the movements of their eyeballs.

But none of this is "Amazon" – it's all run by an "entrepreneur," whom Amazon can cut loose without notice, leaving them with unfairly terminated employees, outstanding workers' comp claims, a fleet of Amazon-skinned vehicles and unbreakable facilities leases:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

Speaking to Wired, Amazon denied that it forces its drivers to piss in bottles, but Butler clearly catches a DSP dispatcher telling drivers "If you pee in a bottle and leave it [in the vehicle], you will get a point for that" – that is, the part you get punished for isn't the peeing, it's the leaving.

Amazon's defense against the FTC is that it spares no effort to keep its marketplace safe. As Amazon spokesperson James Drummond says, they use "industry-leading tools to prevent genuinely unsafe products being listed." But the only industry-leading tools in evidence are tools to bust unions and screw suppliers.

In her landmark Yale Law Review paper, "Amazon's Antitrust Paradox," FTC Chair Lina Khan makes a brilliant argument that Amazon's alleged benefits to "consumers" are temporary at best, illusory at worst:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

In Butler's documentary, Khan's hypothesis is thoroughly validated: here's a company extracting hundreds of billions from merchants who raise prices to compensate, and those monopoly rents are "invested" in union-busting and countermeasures against investigative journalists, while the tools to keep you from accidentally getting a bottle of piss in the mail are laughably primitive.

Truly, Amazon is the apex predator of the platform era:

https://pluralistic.net/ApexPredator

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/20/release-energy/#the-bitterest-lemon

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[radiance1]

You know what?

*Kicks Danny across the universe.*

Get that motherfucker outta here, we talking about Tucker now.

Yes, Tucker, not Danny.

So, Tucker gets dropped into this new universe, entirely by mistake really, he probably shouldn't have fucked around with that experimental portal to... wherever he ended up that the GIW had. But really, what's life without a little risk huh?

He found out because he was left resourceless and friendless in an entirely new dimension with waaaaay more than just one hero, ghosts aren't the norm (But really in his dimension they both were and weren't) and a bunch of supervillains and what do you mean earth's been invaded more than once-

He's shocked, obviously, but being suddenly cut off from his friends and family hasn't properly set in yet, so he'll make the most of his time before then.

Ends up managing to get himself a nice little abandoned warehouse (there's a lot of those around here, really) that'll take a bit of fixing up but hey, safety from the elements first, safety from others next, and then food. So, with the materials he's found, he makes a security system, not the greatest because poor materials and he doesn't have the Fenton gene but it works itself out.

He had data, so he hacks into nearby places to get a proper feel for the city he's in.

Lots of crime, like, a whole lot that has Tucker slightly worried not going to lie.

But hey, he meets this person called Oracle, and they're a fun one to hang with. Digitally of course, obviously he's also hidden his signal so they can't track him in the off chance.

Then he somehow finds himself helping the Batclan here and in return he asks for money, Oracle obliges and by the Ancients are they loaded. Upgrades, upgrades, here he comes!

Most of it is surveillance, and a wee bit of tracking and hacking and also defending.

He thinks Oracle and him make a pretty good team! One full offense, the other defense, hell. They could both go offensive or defensive and it's pretty fun.

Oracle: Yea, I know a guy.

Also Oracle: Refuses to elaborate on who said guy is, how they met and so on so forth.

[spirantization]

me five minutes into kerblam!: oh i see, this is a commentary on how giant corporations exploit and dehumanize their workforce with extensive surveillance, unachievable work targets, poor compensation, micromanaging social interactions, etc while slowly replacing them with automation

kerblam! five minutes to the end: explosive bubble wrap actually

kerblam! five minutes to the end: the real villain all along was *looks at smudged writing on hand* the working class wanting the dignity of honest work and not wanting to be replaced by automation

the doctor at the end of kerblam!: "the systems aren't the problem! how people use and exploit the system, that's the problem. people like you" [who want to work and not be replaced by robots]

the worst part is that the first half of the episode is a somewhat cogent criticism of amazon's warehouse labour practices. i assume someone higher up got their grubby hands on the script and forced a rewrite of the ending. but now there are artifacts of that previous story in the end product, so you see everyone getting fitted with ankle monitor trackers, and how management treats the workers poorly, and how coworkers aren't allowed to socialize during their shift, and all these moments of reflection about the system by ryan & graham & yaz as they interact with other workers that come directly from their own working class experiences. and because the episode lands on "the system is fine, actually" as the take home message, all of these very clear instances of warehouse workers being treated horribly just get folded in.

nine would kill thirteen on sight as a class traitor.

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 4

Remember Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle? Well, that’s you this chapter :]

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, wholesome, lots of cleaning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“You IDIOTS!” A crash resounded in the room as Stockman knocked over a table full of metal tools. “How could you let go the ONE MUTANT that survived all the testing phases!” Another crash as beakers and chemicals were knocked off a table. “I never should have left you FOOLS in charge of guarding the lab. This could set us back months of progress. If we don’t find that girl, Karai will have my head!”

With an angry huff Stockman fell into his dusty office chair and spun over to his computer. He was working on updating all the computer systems there in the old Sacks building. He had joined the Foot in taking up residence there since you had compromised their position at the warehouse laboratory by the docks. They couldn’t risk a raid from the turtles and losing all his research. This location wasn’t the most inconspicuous considering its history, but since the Shredder’s initial defeat at the hands of the turtles and April, the building had been deemed unstable and labeled condemned. Since it was difficult to dismantle such a large skyscraper in the middle of the city, it had been mostly left unoccupied for the past several years. Making it the ideal base for Foot activity.

As he was sorting through old records on the computer, he came across an interesting clip in the archived surveillance videos. 

“Hmm…. interesting…. Yes, if I do that- yes…. YES! This will work nicely.” Stockman chuckled darkly to himself as he got up from his chair. Bebop and Rocksteady shared a confused look and shrugged, not understanding the sudden change in the scientist’s mood.

“Uuuuuh, hey boss, so what are we going to do about them?”

“You two aren’t going to do anything. …. yet.” Baxter’s dark chuckle echoed as he disappeared down the hallway.

It has been 2 weeks since you met the turtles. 

Initially, April had brought you a duffle bag full of comfy clothes a little bit too big for you, and some essential toiletries. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a hot shower with conditioner and soft sweatpants to put on after. Leo’s bed was warm and clean, Michelangelo cooked you delicious comfort food, and Donatello downloaded all of your favorite movies and shows you had missed. Raph one night had even knit you a cozy cardigan. The boys were all making an effort to make you feel more comfortable. But you couldn’t help but notice the reason. 

You were still scared. 

Every night you woke to terrible nightmares. And every day you felt like you were still walking on broken glass. Startling at any sudden sound or slightest touch. You noticed how Leo looked at you with pity, and Mikey wore a faltering smile. Donnie kept busy working on tracking the Foot, aside from regularly changing your bandages, and Raph- Raph just tried to keep his distance. 

You didn’t blame them. You were a stranger in their home. You were finally in a safe place, but it was like your body was still in survival mode. High strung and anxious. You wanted to do something for them. Anything, to repay them and make yourself feel useful. A distraction.

Master Splinter had on many occasions noticed your stressed and mousy demeanor. He felt the unease in their home and the distance his sons kept with their new ward. Like neither party knew how to find common ground. 

One night, he requested you join him in his meditation room for tea. You obliged.

“I sense your unease.” He stated casually.

You hesitated, then nodded. You didn’t know how to respond.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about. For so long, you lived every day, not knowing if it would be your last. You lost your autonomy, your freedom. And yet you escaped all on your own. You are very brave.”

 “….Thank you. I just wish I could feel that way. I feel so… scared. Like I’ll wake up back in that lab again and all of this would have been a dream. I… I don’t know what to do with myself.” You fussed with the teacup in your hands. 

Splinter reached across the table and offered you his hand as a comfort. You took it gently and sighed. 

“It will take time before you begin to feel like yourself again. My boys can be a little… reserved at times. It is not often we get to interact with friendly humans. Trust me when I say, they also wish for your comfort and safety. It just may take some time for them to get used to another presence in our home. In the meantime, perhaps there is something you can do that will make you feel more at home?”

You were surprised by his suggestion. They had already offered their home up to you, you wouldn’t dare ask anything more of them. But maybe…

“….a-actually… there might be something. If I could have your permission of course.” 

Splinter smiled at you.

Once your injuries had fully healed, Splinter had called upon April and Casey’s help to assist you. There was some materials you needed of course, and Mikey was let in on the big secret. You felt guilty roping in so many people just to help you feel more comfortable, but there was something you wanted to do for them, as a thank you for taking you in. April seemed ecstatic at the proposition and was eager to bring you the supplies. Casey just seemed confused that this was something you wanted to do of your own free will. And Mikey- well, he was just excited to share a hobby with you.

The cooking part, that is. Not the cleaning.

Ever since you had been brought down to the lair for safe keeping, you had noticed one glaringly obvious thing. This was a man cave in every sense of the word. The lair was terribly dirty. Dust and grime everywhere. The only clean places you noticed were the dojo, Leo’s room, and Master Splinter’s quarters. You understood that they were all living in a sewer, and they had clearly made a bit of an effort to keep it clean. But you were through avoiding sticky spots on the floor and sitting on a dirty couch. 

First things first: Donnie’s dirty coffee mug hoard. The purple turtle was currently napping in his room after an all nighter doing surveillance in coordination with the police, so now was the perfect time to clean up his station. You were extremely grateful to April for including a pair of rubber gloves in the bags of cleaning supplies she brought for you. Mikey helped you collect all the mugs and bring them to the sink, where he was in charge of washing them while you cleaned off all of Donnie’s work tables where he tinkered. You were careful not to move any projects, but wiped it clean of all its dust and stains. Then carefully sanitized all his keyboards and mouse, cleaned all of the monitors (yes all of them), and swept away the crumbs on the floor around his chair. 

Once that was complete, you moved on to the living room. Leo was currently preoccupied meditating with Master Splinter in the dojo, so no one was around to notice you swoop in and descend on the couch. Thankfully the boys no longer had a couch made of empty pizza boxes, and had upgraded to a large sectional that Casey had found them used for cheap up top. You were certain that the couch covers had never been washed since it was brought down to the sewers. You were doubly certain that the boys probably didn’t even know the cushion covers could be removed and washed. You threw the covers into the washing machine on hot water with a healthy amount of soap. Mikey then helped you move the couch so you could clean the floor underneath, and smashed the cockroach that had scrambled out from underneath. The coffee table was wiped down, the rug was taken to a railing to be hung and the dust beat out by Mikey with his nunchucks, and the floor mopped clean. 

Next was the workout room. Raph had just finished his exercise and left for the bathroom to take a shower, so you rushed in and started cleaning off every dusty and grimy sweat covered surface you could find. There was a musky scent of dirt and sweat permeating the room. All the dumbbells had a build up of grime from their sweaty hands using them for so many years. You also made sure to sanitize all of the mats and floors as well. By the time you were finished, Raph was leaving the shower and went to his room. You hid so he wouldn’t notice you as he passed by, unassuming. Then you were left with the big task.

The bathroom.

You were certain if there was a soundtrack playing in the background, dramatic horror music would be playing. You rolled up your sleeves and went in. Toilets, showers, sinks, and the massive bathtub, all scrubbed down with an unholy amount of bleach until every tiled surface shined. By the time you were finished, Mikey had come in to tell you he was ready to start on the kitchen. That was Mikey’s domain.

You were grateful that all the dishes were already clean by the time you entered the kitchen. But Mikey needed your help when it came to the cupboards and fridge.

“Mikey? ….Why do you have 3 year old expired sour cream in the fridge?”

“Huh? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘sour’? It still looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Mikey there is black mold growing in it.” 

“Oh, so…. That’s not pepper then.”

By the time you had finished clearing out the fridge and cupboards of everything expired or moldy, you had filled 3 trash bags full of garbage. Mikey helpfully took out the trash while you cleaned and organized the fridge and cupboards, and wiped down all the surfaces. By the time Mikey returned, you were rifling through the brown paper bag April got you full of ingredients and spices you had requested. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Mikey cheerfully greeted you as he rejoined you in the now clean kitchen. 

“Well… if I remember the recipe correctly, I want to make the dish my mom always made for me…”

Mikey looked at you surprised for a moment, then excitement overtook him. “Cool! Can I help?” 

You perked up at the suggestion. “Will you? I’d,… I’d love that, thank you!” Your expression melted into a warm smile, and Mikey felt his heart skip a beat. 

You looked so pretty when you smiled, he thought to himself. 

He wanted to see you smile more, just like that.

You both washed your hands and got to work. On the freshly clean kitchen counter, you had Mikey kneed cold butter into flour to make a dough, while you cut vegetables and cooked chicken on the stove. By the time Mikey was ready with the dough, there were 6 pie tins lined up to add the crust. The oven dinged and the base crust went in to brown while you stirred a large pot on the stove. Then you took out the pies and added the filling, and covered the tops with more dough. You were surprised at how large their oven was, but they were 4 giant mutant turtles and a rat. You had no doubt that each of the boys would eat a whole pie themself. The extra 2 were for Splinter, you, April, and Casey, who would be joining everyone later.

Once the oven door closed, Mikey turned up the radio that had been quietly humming tunes in the background as a fun song you hadn’t heard before played through the speakers. (‘Bad idea right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo started playing.) Mikey’s head started bobbing and he grabbed the wooden spoon you had been stirring with and began mouthing the words into it like a microphone. You giggled at his antics as he pointed a green finger at you and beckoned you out into the open of the room. You felt drawn to join him as the pop song got your head bobbing to the beat. You felt a feeling well up in your chest as the chorus started building up. Excitement bubbling until the chorus peaked and your head bobbing turned into jumping around. Before you knew it, you were dancing around the living room with Mikey holding your hands and spinning you around. You lost yourself in the freeing feeling of the stress and anxiety getting washed away by the music. All the cleaning you had done was so stress relieving you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Little did you know, the music had drawn the attention of the other brothers. Leo and Master Splinter came out from their meditation to watch in the doorway, Leo smiled and crossed his arms as he looked at you. Raph came out freshly dressed and looked surprised but shared a look with Leo that made them smirk at you and their little brother’s antics. Then Donnie trudged out and leaned against his door frame and fixed his glasses to make sure he was in fact seeing you correctly. 

You were smiling, laughing, and dancing.

“It seems as though we are seeing Miss (y/n) for the first time today.” Mused Splinter, the old rat brushing his beard.

Just then April and Casey walked in, carrying boxes they had brought down from up top.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” April asked putting down her box.

You were happily giggling as Mikey spun you around at the end of the song. April grinned, happily surprised at the scene. Casey walked in behind her and started looking around the lair like he was seeing it for the first time, setting his box down next to April’s. This prompted Leo, Raph, and Donnie to also take a better look around their home. They slowly all walked out into the living space, looking in all directions. 

“.... Where did all my coffee cups go…?”

“Hm? Oh! They’re washed and in the cupboard!” You answered cheerily.

“.... Does…. Does the gym smell like oranges?” Raph said, baffled.

“.... Where did all the dust go? ….Does the couch look clean to you?” Leo nudged Donnie to bring his attention to the freshly washed couch covers.

There was a beat of heavy silence as the boys took in the new state of their home, then the timer above the oven dinged and you ran over to put on your oven mitts.

“The food’s ready!” You called out cheerfully.

In the next few minutes, everyone was sitting around the small kitchen table. Each turtle with a full pie in front of them, and large slices cut for Splinter, April, and Casey, and a smaller cut for yourself.

“Damn, what’s this? Smells great!” Casey exclaimed. 

“My mom showed me how to make this, it’s chicken pot pie. I hope you like it!” You said a bit shyly now that you had calmed down a bit. 

You watched as all the boys and April picked up a spoon and dug in, taking their first bite. There was a chorus of groans of approval as the boys hummed approvingly around their bite.

“Oh my god my mouth is singing!” Mikey exclaimed, trying to shovel the pie into his mouth. 

“How did you manage to get this level of flakiness into the crust? Was there any special preparation when kneading the dough?” Donnie questioned. Then Mikey mumbled out around a full mouth, ‘cold butter, dude’ which Donnie had to ask him to repeat when his mouth wasn’t full.

“Wow… I’ve never had anything like this before. Did you make this?” Leo asked. Raph was grunting in approval with each new bite he took, absorbed in his food from across the table.

You blushed and nodded. It didn’t take long for everyone to clean their plates. Casey, Mikey, and Raph all fought for seconds. Master Splinter and April were sharing very pleased looks on their faces, like they were conspiring all along. Once everyone was finished, you stood up and started to collect plates from the table.

“Oooooh no, you did enough cleaning today, let someone else take a turn, shortie.” Raph stood up to stop you.

“I don’t mind, really!” You urged, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into Mikey who was taking his own plate to the sink. 

The plate dropped from his hand in surprise, and faster than anyone could react, your freehand shot out and grabbed the plate. There was a cracking sound and everyone froze to look at you. There you were, balancing 5 large heavy ceramic plates stacked in one hand, while your other hand was holding onto Mikey’s plate that had cracked and fractured in your grip. You were stunned.

“Woah… what just happened?” Mikey broke the silence.

Part 5

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[the-cauldron-witch]

Protecting his Peace part 2

Part 1

As requested by the dear @redsrooftopprincess, here is part 2!! I hope you enjoy my dear!

A special thanks to @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins for giving me a hand when I got stuck!

For the better part of two hours, after you had promptly slammed Raphael’s door shut and locked it with the keypad hidden behind the movie poster, the two of you sat tangled together in his massive bed holding one another. Large arms cradling you in his lap and beak nuzzled into the nape of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair for comfort. Hands reached up and around his neck, rubbing the back it gently and humming a low soothing tune as you held him to the best of your ability given the size difference. Having let out his tears of frustration and allowed you to dry them, Raph simply needed the physical comfort now.

The gentle knock at the door would have gone unheard had the TV been on or music from his radio been playing. He gave you a loving firm squeeze before letting you slip from his muscular arms, feeling the cool air against his skin in the space you left behind. Striding across the room in only a few steps, you took a deep breath and paused just a second long enough to still your nerves.

Lifting the corner of the movie poster again and letting your fingers dance across the keypad, you unlocked the door. Opening the door with slight force, expecting one of his towering brothers, you had to shift your gaze downward to meet Master Splinters. One of his hands holding a pizza box and the other wrapped around his trusted staff.

“I ordered dinner for you two,” He spoke gently, offering the pizza boxes for you to take and just conveniently putting them in the way of the door. “Unless…my son might be ready to speak with me a moment?”

The fact Master Splinter seemed to genuinely ask permission made something in your chest tighten a little. Turning your head to look over your shoulder at the son in question your eyes locked with Raph’s, asking for his input without verbally asking. Taking a deep breath Raph thought for a moment before nodding, motioning for you to allow Master Splinter to enter. Taking the pizza boxes from the elderly rat you stepped out of the way, allowing him to enter.

Shoving a pile of dirty laundry off the nearby rolling chair, Raph cleared a spot for his father to sit while he made his way through the scattered remnants of furniture and other belongings across the floor. Master Splinter took mental notes to perhaps see if Donatello’s welding skills were good enough to make furniture. While the elderly rat made his way to the chair, you grabbed a folded TV table from the corner of the room and made your way to the bedside. Standing the tray table on its legs you remained standing for a moment longer, simply observing. The three of you remained silent for a moment while Splinter got comfortable.

“I spoke with your brothers about the events over the past few days,” Master Splinter shifted his grip on the knob of his staff as he spoke gently, “Before coming to speak with you, I wanted to give you more time to calm yourself and spoke with your brothers first. While speaking with Donatello, he had the idea to ‘hack’ as he says, into the warehouse surveillance system and watch the footage of that night. It showed exactly as you had described that night; the vent giving out from under you and falling”

The elderly rat now holds both you and Raphael’s attention fully. Sitting up straighter now Raph studied his father for a long moment, not bothering to speak or do anything that might prompt this to turn this into a trap to lecture him. A small creak from the bed interrupted the quiet pause as you sat next to Raph, placing a reassuring hand on top of his thigh and giving it a firm squeeze to pull him from his thoughts. The small action didn’t go unnoticed by Master Splinter, tugging a small smile at the ends of his lips. Taking a deep breath, Master Splinter continued speaking while Raph defensively crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’d like to first apologize, my son,” Lifting his head to look Raphael in his emerald eye, Master Splinter apologized sincerely, “I should not have simply went along with those accusations, you didn’t deserve that from your brother’s and especially not from myself. I did not take your emotions into account and turned a blind eye to the disregard towards your possessions. I’m deeply sorry and hope that you can forgive me”

Any sort of anger or frustration that simmered within Raphael’s chest slowly evaporated, sighing the remaining imaginary steam audibly. A lump formed in his throat while remaining quiet, mulling over his word choice before speaking. This wasn’t what he was expecting, he half expected to be scolded for lashing out and busting up his room. Yet his father was openly apologizing and asking for his forgiveness. Clearing his throat of the lump that climbed up his throat, Raph shifted awkwardly on his bed as he unfolded his arms.

“I forgive ya, dad…Not really mad at you in tha’ first place, really. It’s just…” Raph grumbled, his thumb swiping over your knuckles in a soothing motion as he mentally pieced the words to his feelings. Glancing down to the floor as though the words were written there Raph went silent again, a nervous habit his father knew well and patiently waited for his second eldest to speak.

“I made a mistake and owned up to it- if ya could even call it a mistake. Not like I chose that way knowin’ my big ass was going to fall through tha damned ceiling! But it’s like…it was just easier for them ta jus’ say it’s my fault than believe me, Leo didn’t even try to listen ta me. Just told me I was being reckless and defiant again…” The way Raphael’s shoulders slouched as he spoke tugged at your heart. To have someone push aside Raphael’s emotions, his own family especially, so carelessly lit a fire within your chest that smoldered with frustration.

Reaching a bony hand outward Master Splinter placed it gently on Raphael’s shoulder, giving a gentle nudge to coax him to look up. You watched as Raph lifted his saddened, dulled emerald eyes to look his father in the face. Blinking sadly back, Master Splinter rubbed his thumb over the smooth scales of his shoulder.

“And I am very, very sorry that you were made to feel that way. I truly am,” He gave his sons shoulder a gentle but firm squeeze before continuing to speak reassuringly, “Leonardo and Donatello are currently both serving their respective punishments in the ha-shi while Michelangelo is cleaning up your work-out room. I have given him very strict instructions; he is not to leave that weight room or have dinner until he has finished”

It was as strange feeling; open recognition and acknowledgment that Raph had been telling the truth the entire time and beingapologized directly to. Smiling warmly as your boyfriend leaned down, wrapping his arms around his smaller rat father carefully, you felt a warmth in your chest after helping your boyfriend find some resolution. To the best of his ability, Master Splinter reached up and patted his son’s shell in a tight embrace.

“Thanks dad…I really appreciate it,” Raph spoke with a genuine smile of gratitude once separated. A sense of relief washed over you, noticing the way Raph’s features softened from their rigid defensiveness for the first time today.

“And I would like to personally thank you,” Turning his attention to you, Master Splinter slid out of the computer chair his feet silently touching the floor, “Your fierce protectiveness for my son’s peace opened my eyes, showing me how wrong I and my sons were towards Raphael. I very much appreciate your actions, thank you,”

“Any time, somebody has to be in this big guy’s corner,” Patting Raph’s thick thigh gently you couldn’t help but look up at him with a playful wink. He turned that same grateful and sincere smile onto you, leaning down briefly to peck your forehead and send a small rush of heat to your face. That was probably the first time Raph had ever been so openly affectionate towards you in front of his father, at least on purpose. With a small, amused chuckle Master Splinter strolled away with the help of his staff. As he began to shuffle past, he paused for a second long enough to reach out and affectionately patted the top of your hand still resting on Raphael’s thigh before continuing to the door.

“You two take your time and eat dinner, please. When you’re finished, come see me in the ha-shi so we may put this whole mess to rest, Raphael” With that said, Master Splinter quietly opened the door once again and slipped out silently with a small click. The silence that hung in the air felt lighter than it had been before, the electrical charge fading entirely.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starved” Was all Raph said before grabbing the top pizza box and opening it, grinning with delight that his father had gotten him his favorite, deep dish meat lovers with onions. Opening the second box it was your turn to be pleasantly surprised at your own favorite pizza inside. Whatever guilt you felt for landing your boyfriend’s brothers in hot water was set aside for now.

“Mike’s gonna be pissed,” Raph snickered, “He loves meat lovers too but absolutely hates onions, I get them whenever I don’t want him to steal my leftovers…now I gotta worry about Donnie, though” He continued to lament with a devious snicker, knowing that his father had purposefully added onions for just that reason. Taking a mental note of this tidbit of information for yourself, just in case you want to keep Mikey away from your food later down the road, you pulled out a slice of your own pizza with a pleased grin as strings of cheese stretched from the inside of the crust. Master Splinter had even gotten stuffed crust for you, how sweet.

You two ate in comfortable silence, Raph finishing his entire pizza with ease while you still had more than half leftover by the time you were full. Snagging a sharpie from his side table, Raph scrawled your name on top of the box so that- hopefully- no one would steal it from the fridge. Exiting Raph’s room and heading for the kitchen, the first thing that was noticeable was the stench of paint remover hanging heavily in the air. Nose wrinkling as the smell grew stronger, you made your way to the kitchen to put away your pizza while Raph turned to find the source of the smell.

“Oof” Raph huffed as he followed the scent and entered the weight room, nearly choking on the heavy stink of paint thinner. A large canister sat open in the middle of the room next to a growing pile of dirty cleaning rags. Sitting in front of the massive mirror attached to the far wall was Mikey with a rag in hand, wiping the paint off the bottom half of the mirror.

Eyes glazed over and swaying in his seat, Mikey’s blinked rapidly to focus his blurry vision so that he could continue working. A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, that wasn’t his own motion trails, caught Mikey’s attention and he turned himself to look over his shoulder. The small motion nearly knocked him on his shell, had Raph not been behind him to steady him with his foot.

“Hey, whassup Raphie?” Mikey slurred as he turned around unsteadily, having to plant both palms onto the ground to keep upright. Had Raph not known any better, he would have assumed Mikey was drunker than a sailor on shore.

“Easy, Mike. The hell are ya doin’?” Raph questioned; nose wrinkled as he tried to breathe past the heavy unseen fog that burned his eyes and sinuses. Finally steadying himself in a comfortable sitting position he blinked slowly, mind slowly piecing words together as a dull ache began to settle within his sinuses

“Dad said…I gotta clean this up ‘fore I can get dinner,” Tripping over a few words Mikey explained slowly, reaching up with his free hand to massage between his eyes, “And I’m…sorry about earlier, real uncool of me-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now,” Raph chided gently as he knelt to the youngest brothers’ side, taking the damp rag from his other hand and tossing it into the pile.

Entering the weight room with your chin ducked into your chest and shirt pulled up over your nose in a desperate attempt to block out the heavy smell of paint thinner, you quietly walked up from behind Raph while he was bent over and helping Mikey from the floor. The orange banded turtle stumbled on his feet even with his elder brothers’ help, nearly sending both to the ground had you not rushed over to steady Mikey’s other half.

“The exhaust from the paint thinner must have gotten to him,” you told Raph with concern, steadily walking in sync with the two massive turtles as you and Raph led the youngest out of the gym and into the living room.

“M’head hurts,” Mikey grumbled while you and Raph steered to the couch, guiding him to sit gently as his knees buckles against the frame of the couch. Had you and Raph not helped, Mikey would have simply ended up tumbling onto the couch like a ragdoll. Watching his younger brother rub his forehead trying to soothe the pounding behind it, Raph sighed and shook his head. “For real though…M’sorry about earlier, I feel bad, honestly dude,”

“Ah…I forgive ya, dumbass” Raph sighed, slightly dispirited and shaking his head. Getting an apology and the paint removed from his weight room was what Raph wanted, but not at the expense of Mikey killing what braincells he had. The paint was cleaned from his equipment and weights, the mirror wasn’t a high priority on the list. The mirror was mostly clean anyhow…along with the ceiling.

“I’m goin’ to go and talk to dad really fast. Just sit here for a minute with [Y/N] and get your head straight,” Raph told him, patting his shoulder reassuringly before heading for the ha-shi. Making sure Mikey wasn’t going to fall ass over tea kettle, you slipped into the kitchen and snagged an empty glass from the counter and headed for the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror and grabbing four tablets of some strong ibuprofen you turned on the faucet to fill the glass. You came back to the living room a minute later where Mikey still silently sat holding his head.

“Here, take these, hon” Gently nudging his shoulder for Mikey to pull his head from his hands, you offered the medicine and glass of water to him. Blinking away the foggy confusion he slowly reached out a tentative hand and took the glass while the other accepted the tablets in his upturned palm.

“Thanks, Angelcakes... You’re a sweetheart, even though I was a such a jerk earlier,” Tossing his head back as he threw the tablets to the back of his throat he chased them down with a few gulps of water. A smile broke across your face at Mikey’s self-reflection, at least your outburst from earlier had some silver lining.

“Raph already said he forgave you and so do I. Thank you for cleaning up as much as you did,” You chuckled, unable to help yourself and wrap your arms around his shoulders for a quick hug. He returned the gesture for only a second before excusing himself to lay on the couch for a moment. A wave of nausea twisted and rolled Mikey’s stomach as he shut his eyes. The fumes from the paint thinner were starting to wear off, leaving a sickly feeling behind as the headache settled particularly harsh behind his still blackened eye.

---

“Shit, shit, shit-” Donnie muttered as his arm snapped outward to catch the errant ping-pong ball with the paddle, popping it up into the air so that he could catch it with the other one. Thankfully Master Splinter, who watched from the other side of the room like a hawk, stopped caring long ago about swearing openly and simply continued to observe. Sweeping his sharp gaze from Donatello to Leonardo, who was rigid as stone while balancing the eggs as instructed.

Raph stood in the entrance in silence, observing his brothers struggling to keep up their performances under their father’s ever watchful glare. Although he had noticed his second eldest son after he walked through the threshold, Master Splinter didn’t acknowledge him right away and allowed Raphael to watch for himself.

“Hey, dad,” Raph announced, voice cutting through the air like a knife, “you wanted me ta come see ya?”

“Yes, Raphael,” Master Splinter pinned Leonardo and Donatello each with a harsh glare that silently ordered them to continue their exercises, then slowly made his way over to Raphael. “I know I already spoke to you earlier, but I’d like to apologize again for these past events. My judgement was unfair and unjust towards you, as were your brothers.”

Turning his head to look at his struggling sons, it was a silent prompt from their father for them to speak. They both briefly glanced at one another, neither sure who should speak first, before Donnie decided to just go first.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t believe your side of the story about the vent collapsing and then shot my grappling hook through your punching bag! F-fuck!” Donnie struggled for a split second as the ping-pong ball decided to arch in a direction that it was not supposed to go, “I thought you had another punching bag honestly- saying that out loud I realize that was an asshole assumption- but either way I have already replaced it myself!”

“You did?” Raph questioned, not remembering seeing a punching bag in the space it usually hung. Thinking back on it briefly, he remembered seeing something black attached to the wall but didn’t stop to get a good look at it.

“I did! It was- shit- supposed to be a Christmas gift, but it seemed appropriate for now” Donnie caught the ping-pong ball before it bounced out of range, “It kind of works like a dance control pad but for boxing! I’ll show you how it works later, I have it programmed with games and-”

“Okay, Donatello, thank you for apologizing,” Master Splinter interrupted politely in order to give Leo his time to speak “Leonardo.”

Clearing his throat of the awkward lump that had formed in his throat during every ha-shi, Leo managed to force himself to look up at Raph. The fact that he was not only wrong but proven so after Donnie pulled up the security video, now he had to openly apologize for it. Thankfully, Raph didn’t look smug or like he was going to tease, just simply crossed his arms and kept a neutral expression.

“I’m…sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said it was an accident. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and been a better leader in the situation by being more considerate and reasonable,” Leo grunted, straining to keep the eggs balanced in their place as they wobbled at the ends of the chopstick. Taking a deep breath to steady his balance, Leo opened his mouth to continue only for the tap of his father’s staff to interrupt him.

“The inconsideration of not only Raphael’s explanation and situation, but his own emotional wellbeing and personal belongings is rather disappointing to me. I raised the four of you as not only an equal team, but equal in family.” Watching as Leo turned his gaze to the floor again as the guilt weighed heavily on his shell, Master Splinter turned his gaze to Raph, “While your brother is physically the strong among you, that does not make him immovable or without limits and I fear you may have forgotten this fact. With that being said, this punishment may come from me, but the resolution lies with your brother. Raphael, when you feel you are ready to forgive them, I will release them from the ha-shi”

Staring down at his father and absorbing his words, Raph exhaled through his nose with a slow steady sigh while he thought. On one hand, Raph was slightly getting a kick out of the fact that he was very much getting retribution for these past few awful days, but on the other hand…the ha-shi sucked, he knew that, and this didn’t feel as satisfying as Raph would have thought. Neither of his brothers said anything, both equally sharing expressions of guilt and regret as they looked to him.

“Let ‘em go, dad,” Raph sighed, waving his hand dismissively in the air, “I already turned Mikey loose a few minutes ago anyhow…But, I have two conditions”

Having snatched the ping-pong ball between his finger and thumb, Donnie continued to balance with wide eyes while Leo stayed perfect perfectly still, both staring at Raph with mix of emotions. Confused by the fact Raph was letting them go after only a few hours of the hashi, while also concerned and worried by what the conditions could possibly be.

“First condition; I get to do something I have always wanted to do,” Cracking a toothy, devilish grin at his brothers- particularly at Leo, Raph spoke with a slight air of smugness.

“Very well?” Master Splinter gestured vaguely with an open palm, just as confused as his two sons. With permission granted by his father Raph crouched low to the ground, extending his right foot and with one quick motion swept the stacked milk crates from beneath Leo’s feet. A loud thud echoed off the walls as Leo was unceremoniously dropped onto his shell, knocking the wind clean out of his lungs with a burning wheeze.

Crack! Crack! The two eggs flew up into the air and gracefully landed on Leo’s plastrons, yolk and egg white sliding down his sides.

“Punk ass bitch” Leo grunted, blinking up as he coughed and sputtered for air as Raph laughed above him. Slapping a hand over his mouth Donnie tried to stifle the snort that threatened to crack from his throat while hopping off his balancing post. The defiant comment from the downed leader made Raph laugh harder, briefly holding his sides as a stitch formed in his ribs. Reaching out a hand to help Leo up, Raph continued to chuckle at his brother’s misfortune. Taking his hand, Leo was hoisted to his feet and roughly tugged under one of Raph’s biceps for a firm embrace.

“My second condition, since you failed to be a leader to me, I was thinkin’ I lead you for once” Raphael smirked down at Leo, green eyes shining with mischief.

“You want to lead the rest of the mission?” Leo assumed, raising an eyebrow with uncertainty.

“Nah, that would jeopardize the mission, I ain’t that stupid. I’m gonna be leadin’ you in my regular work out regime for the next few weeks,”

Silently blinking at his brother, waiting for a punchline or follow up joke, Leo’s bright blue eyes scanned Raph’s emerald-green ones to see if he was serious. He was. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Leo let his shoulders sag in defeat.

“I feel that is a fitting punishment for the crime. Did Michelangelo clean up to my specifications?” Master Splinter questioned.

“Well, he didn’t exactly finish,” Raph rubbed the back of his head, having forgotten that small fact for a moment. “The fumes kind of got to him and made him a little loopy, he was slurring and acting kind of drunk when me and [Y/N] got to him. He’s sitting in the living room with them right now,”

“What!?” Donnie barked, dropping the ping-pong paddles and ball to the ground and rushed out of the ha-shi. “I told him to turn on the vent fans and wear a damn N-95!” He could be heard grumbling rather loudly, marching his way back to his lab to retrieve a gas mask with a determination to finish the job himself. Grabbing some rubber gloves so that the smell wouldn’t permeate his skin Donnie marched his way to the gym.

-----

While waiting for Raph to talk with his father and brothers in the ha-shi, you sat on the edge while Mikey rested on the rest of the couch, laying on his side and draping his arm over his eyes to keep the light out. Worried about Mikey’s health after inhaling the paint thinner fumes for a good few minutes, you stayed by his side, a hand gently reached out and rubbing the side of his shell in a soothing gesture. You wondered for a minute if Mikey had dozed off as he lay there silently.

“How is he feeling?” Master Splinter questioned as he silently wandered into the living room, startling you and making you slightly jump.

“I’m alright, dad” Mikey grumbled, removing his arm that was draped over his eyes and taking a deep breath. You stood so that Mikey could get up himself, peeling himself off the couch and swinging his legs over the side so he could stand. “I’ll go finish cleaning-”

“Donatello is taking care of the rest, do not worry. Thank you for doing as much as you did, but next time your brother instructs you to use proper equipment, please take the advice” Master Splinter requested with a tired smile.

“I’ve used paint thinner without a mask before! I didn’t realize it was that strong,” Mikey defended himself, rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes as he slowly reanimated himself. Walking out of the living room to allow Master Splinter and Mikey to speak, you heard from around the corner Leo’s low voice talking to Raph, vaguely making out what they were talking hushed tones.

“Seriously though, I am sorry about everything. I promise it won’t happen again,” Leo genuinely apologized, wanting to show his sincerity to Raph outside of the ha-shi. Admittedly, Leo still felt like a bit of a dick.

“Thanks, I forgive ya bro. You ain’t gettin’ out of the workout, though” Raph told him back, a smug but still genuine smile still on his face.

“I know, I know. I’m not trying to get out of it... Did you see the boxing thing Donnie set up for you?” Leo changed the subject, knowing well there wasn’t any way around the future work out sessions. He was going to be incredibly sore the next few nights, the ache already setting into his entire muscular system.

“Nah, I didn’t, what is it? He said it was supposed to be a Christmas present or something”

“It’s like a wall mounted Simon Says but for boxing, I guess you could say? Donnie said he found it after a gym went out of business and left it out for trash pick-up. Come check it out with me,” Leo gave Raph’s shoulder a coaxing pat and walked in the direction where his punching bag normally hung.

A warm smile tugged your lips as you watched the two walk towards where the punching bag normally hung, feeling a small sense of pride that your stubbornness had achieved some peace for your boyfriend. After a moment you decided to follow them, curious about this gift as well.

Taglist: @silverwatergalaxy @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @yorshie @truffle-draws-turtles @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: September 18, 2024

Reworked Group #4: S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S.

Overview

Tequila and Red Eye successfully dismantled a rogue military organisation engaged in illicit human trafficking and arms dealing, which had also planned to launch a global bioterrorist attack in collaboration with the Pipovulaj Army. The plot involved spreading a zombie plague to control the population, transforming numerous innocent civilians into violent Man Eaters as a means to create a twisted form of super-soldier. Impressed by Tequila and Red Eye's exceptional performance as highly capable spies, the Intelligence Agency and the Regular Army jointly established a covert operations branch, S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., through a mutual agreement.

The S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. is responsible for gathering intelligence and managing information to prevent public panic and global hysteria. They provide their members with specialised training in high-risk covert operations that surpass the scope of regular Intelligence Agency agents, which are all conducted with utmost discretion and situational awareness. Some of these special covert operation missions involve precision targeting of high-priority threats and strategic disruption of complex criminal schemes.

Insignia

It features a cerulean square Iberian shield, rimmed with a spiky teal vine that’s outlined in bronze. Above the shield, the words "S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S." are inscribed in bluish-white, surmounting a stylized pair of bronze eyes with a yellowish-white star at their centre. The shield is flanked by a stylized peregrine falcon holding a gilded blade on the right side and a male house sparrow clutching an olive branch on the left side.

S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. Base

The Intelligence Division is tactically positioned adjacent to the Joint Military Police Headquarters, deeply entrenched within a dense and remote forest in Northern Russia. The rectangular military compound features a forest-inspired camouflage colour scheme, a secure warehouse for military vehicles, multiple surveillance cameras, and several elevators leading to a subterranean base. They have a rooftop array of parabolic antennas that enables real-time surveillance, threat detection, and situational awareness, preventing surprise attacks and informing strategic decision-making. The base features comprehensive protection through an advanced security system and a defensive magnetic field, which automatically activates in response to potential threats, safeguarding against enemy attacks.

The subterranean base features a state-of-the-art command and surveillance centre, equipped with cutting-edge technological systems to orchestrate and execute operations. Additional facilities include:

An armoury housing the group’s most cutting-edge, high-clearance weaponry and specialised ordnance.

A high-tech meeting room with a high-resolution, encrypted display screen and multi-axis, AI-enhanced holographic projection system.

A state-of-the-art gymnasium for maintaining elite physical readiness, featuring biometric monitoring systems and AI-driven training programs.

A fully equipped, high-tech medical bay with regenerative treatment capabilities and telemedicine connectivity for remote expert consultation.

A secure dining area serving optimised, nutrient-rich rations for peak performance.

A high-security quarters with biometrically locked storage for personal gear and AI-monitored, secure communication arrays.

A Combat Academy, led by Margaret Southwood, featuring a heavily fortified training area with advanced combat simulation zones, tactical obstacle courses, stealth and surveillance training areas, and high-tech weapons testing ranges.

Extra Information

S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. stands for Special Pursuit Agents and Rapid Response Operations Worldwide Strikeforce.

Members of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. are commonly known as "Sparrowers" or "Following Falconers", reflecting their affiliation with the unit and their close relationship with the P.F. Squad.

Despite being part of an elite covert operations branch, Sparrowers face a significant pay disparity: males earn a quarter of the average government agent's salary, while females earn about a third. Additionally, underperforming Sparrowers, both male and female, experience further financial hardship due to delayed salary payments, often waiting between one to two months to receive their overdue compensation.

The S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. conduct their covert operations in collaboration with the Peregrine Falcons Squad who provide primary firepower and protection for their agents.

The handguns carried by Sparrowers are the Murder Model-1915 .38 Mk.1Am or Classic Murder .38 for short. It’s a double-action revolver that features a 6-round cylinder. Originally designed to enhance the Enfield No.2 .38 Caliber revolver in 1915, the Murder Model retained only the frame and grip from the original. All other components were replaced with newer parts in later years.

[iww-gnv]

A French regulator announced Tuesday it had fined the manager of Amazon’s large warehouses in France 32 million euros ($34.7 million) for excessive monitoring of its employees. The French Data Protection Authority (CNIL) said Amazon France Logistique gave employees scanners in order to record workplace tasks such as removing items from shelves and packing. This data was then used to calculate the “quality, productivity and periods of inactivity of each employee.” CNIL ruled it was “illegal to set up a system measuring work interruptions with such accuracy, potentially requiring employees to justify every break or interruption,” it said. The system for monitoring employee activity was described as “excessively intrusive,” including the company’s policy of keeping data and statistical indicators on employees for 31 days was also described as “excessive,” even in light of the “high performance targets” at the business. CNIL said Amazon France Logistique committed several breaches of the European Union’s General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), specifically around data minimization and lawful processing.

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Two Democratic U.S. senators announced Thursday they plan to introduce a piece of legislation that would require large companies to disclose quota practices to workers and prevent those quotas from interfering with a worker’s health.

“The Warehouse Worker Protection Act would put an end to the most dangerous quotas that plague warehouses,” Democratic Sen. Ed Markey of Massachusetts, a sponsor of the bill, said.

There is no published bill text yet.

Markey said the bill would require companies to notify workers of the quotas they need to meet and ban quotas that rely on 24/7 surveillance or are likely to lead to violations of health and safety laws. He added that companies that don’t comply would be investigated by the Department of Labor and could face fines and penalties.

INJURIES AT AMAZON

Markey was joined outside the U.S. Capitol by workers who shared their stories of being injured on the job at Amazon warehouses, along with Democratic Minnesota Sen. Tina Smith and Sean O’Brien, the president of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.

Smith said that big companies like Amazon care about “efficiency and cost savings and maximizing their profits.”

“They’re experiencing record profits at the same time that the people whose labor they are earning profits on the backs (of), are experiencing completely unacceptable levels of injuries,” she said.

The speakers singled out Amazon for quota practices that endanger workers, though Markey said the Seattle-based e-retail giant is not the only company that engages in a quota system that harms workers.

“Amazon may be at the front of the pack with an injury rate double the national average, but the rest of the big warehousing companies are close behind,” he said.

Some of Amazon’s quota practices include constant monitoring to measure how many items a worker scans, with automatic flags for workers below a certain percentile, and monitoring how long employees take on bathroom breaks and other “time off task,” according to a Thursday report by the National Employment Law Project.

The Amazon warehouse injury rate is “twice that of the private-sector average for all industries and tens of thousands of warehouse workers each year experience serious injuries requiring medical treatment,” according to the report.

O’Brien said that Amazon’s business model “pushes workers to the brink and creates a culture of fear.”

“Warehouses can be very dangerous places to work if safety isn’t made a priority,” he said.

Wendy Taylor, an Amazon worker in Missouri who is organizing for a union, was injured at work in March.

“I was injured at work because of Amazon’s inhumane work rates, because of the exhausting pace in the physical work me and my coworkers do,” she said.

Taylor said she fell and hurt her knee, but when she went to the company medical center, she said “they (refused) to let me see a doctor when I asked, sending me back to work.”

She eventually went to her own doctor, who diagnosed her with a torn meniscus in her knee.

“This experience (shows) how hard it is to get timely, adequate medical treatment from a company that breaks down my body and speeds up my aging for shareholder profits,” she said.

In a written statement, a spokesperson for Amazon pushed back against some of the comments from senators, including claims that workers lack adequate bathroom breaks and see fixed performance quotas.

“It’s a common misperception that Amazon has fixed quotas, but we do not,” the spokesperson said. ���Our Time Logged In policy assesses whether employees are actually working while they’re logged in at their station. Our employees can see their own performance at any time and can talk to their manager if they’re having trouble finding the information.”

The spokesperson also said claims that the injury rate at Amazon is double the industry standard are misleading.

“Many large companies that should be included in these comparisons—companies like Walmart, Target and Costco—report almost all of their injuries under different OSHA reporting categories,” the spokesperson said.

Brian Wild, a spokesperson for the National Association of Wholesaler-Distributors, said in a statement that the industry group does not support the bill, arguing that it could lead to delays and price hikes.

“The bill includes provisions that inappropriately tip the scales to union bosses at the expense of employees and employers by inviting labor organizations to participate in investigations, essentially granting union leaders access to potentially coerce or harass worksites under the guise of ‘worker safety,’” Wild said.

SEEKING BIPARTISAN SUPPORT

Markey said there is bipartisan support in the Senate for the bill, as well as the House.

“We just want to build this out,” Markey said. “It should not be a Democrat or Republican thing, it’s a worker safety bill.”

A warehouse protection law went into effect in Minnesota last year, but advocates have raised concerns that Amazon is not complying with the law.

Several other states, including California, New York, Oregon and Washington, have passed legislation similar to what Markey and Smith are proposing.

[phantom-z0ne]

Chapter 2: Impressions and Investigations

CW: Minor Character Deaths, Corpses, Disfigured bodies, Cults, Blood

Damian was missing and Dick was going crazy.

Damian hasn't responded to any inquiries of his location since he missed his scheduled check in time. It had already been two hours past that and they still didn't have any clue where he was. Last they knew, he was heading towards Chinatown. Damian knew a couple of the locals and regularly visited some animals, mostly cats and dogs but occasionally a bird or two.

They would have been able to track him with his comm, but Damian had modified it so that it was untrackable unless it was being used. Unfortunately, they hadn't learned of it before today. If they were to track him through his comm, they would only have a short time to triangulate his position. Damian stated that he wanted his privacy, likely so he could disobey orders without them realizing. They had allowed it because they trusted his judgment, not to mention they all had their rebellious phase, but now it was coming back to bite them in the ass.

It was unfortunate they didn’t have Barbara helping, she was off on her own mission with the Birds of Prey and not in Gotham. Finding Damian would have been way easier with her help, she was an expert in navigating the surveillance systems around Gotham.

Dick could tell he wasn't the only one concerned about their youngest, the others were worried in their own ways. Jason fidgeted with his gun, which Bruce was just barely tolerating, as he paced the rooftop while Tim ran the diagnostics multiple times, his fingers flying on his wrist hologram.

Cass and Bruce’s unease was less noticeable, the only reason he caught it was that he knew them for such a long time. Bruce double checked his trackers and flew across the roofs in search of Damian. Cass was tense and alternated standing near each of them, subtly clenching her hands into fists as she did.

“Robin, come in.” Bruce demanded, Dick felt the desperation in his voice although it was hidden well. He didn't want to lose another son while Dick didn't want to lose another brother. 

There wasn’t a reply, only the sound of static filled their ears.

Dick sighed, running his hands through his hair. They needed to find Damian quickly. The longer they didn't locate him, the longer his captures had to smuggle him out of the city. If Damian was taken out of the city, it would be infinitely harder to find him. 

He couldn’t let that happen, especially to Damian. He’s already had a tough life, what with how he grew up. His integration into the family was difficult on everyone, B was gone and Tim had chosen to pursue a theory he had thought of at the time insane. Jason wasn’t on talking terms with them at that time and Cass had her own responsibilities across the world. Steph was also busy with juggling her hero and civilian lives, though her attitude towards Damian did turn around in the end.

The comm crackled, faint sounds coming through. Dick jolted, jarred out of his thoughts from the abrupt opening of the comm. Both Cass and Tim’s hands went to their comms as Jason stilled. The shuffling of cloth was most prominent, though he could hear a quiet voice.

“Robin, report. What is your location?” Bruce asked, hope underlying his words.

There was the sound of shuffling before a young, unfamiliar voice sounded, “Is this comm trackable?”

That was not Damian. Did he kidnap Damian and was going to ask for a ransom or gloat? Another also kidnapped alongside Damian? Or perhaps a concerned civilian who had nothing to do with Damian’s disappearance?

“Who are you?” Bruce demanded, treating the unknown as a hostile. It was understandable, this was a stranger who possibly abducted his son.

“You can call me Polka. I'm not sure of the location but Robin is unconscious. We are in a warehouse.” The voice responded. ‘You can call me Polka?’ Was he implying that Polka wasn’t his name or the only one he goes by? Dick’s siblings crowded closer to Bruce as if they couldn’t hear out of their own comms.

The good news was that they now knew where to search. Most warehouses were either near the docks or the Warehouse District. That meant they had two areas to search if Tim didn't triangulate where Damian’s comm was during the short conversation. He could see Tim hunched over, one hand typing swiftly in his wrist hologram. 

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there shortly.” Bruce said curtly, his cape snapping as he turned to Tim and asked if he captured the location of the comm. Tim gave him a thumbs up and sent the coordinates. 

They piled into their own vehicles and sped their way across the city, heading towards the warehouse Damian was held in. 

They surrounded the warehouse once they arrived, Bruce entering first before they snuck in from different entrance points. Dick shivered slightly as he situated himself behind the boy who Damian was laid out on. His siblings spread out and surrounded the boy from all sides.

The warehouse was a mess, blood pooling from the disfigured bodies laying every which way. Dick could faintly spot a chalk circle underneath a pool of blood. Another cult, he surmised grimly. There have been too many cults running around lately for his liking, though it looked like this one had fallen victim to their own summoning. 

There wasn't much he could tell about the boy from behind, his baggy clothes hiding his frame. His hair was what stood out the most, cropped silver hair. It seemed to almost glow in the dark warehouse. Dick’s attention went back to Bruce who stepped out from the shadows and addressed the boy after taking Damian back into his custody, though he kept an eye out on the boy.

“None, I just happened to find him. Who are you?” The boy asked, standing. That was interesting. Everyone from Gotham knew who Batman was, and even if you weren't, Batman was still a famous figure.

Bruce answered in his signature low voice, obviously gearing up to interrogate the boy. That was his cue to step in. They’ve done this routine before, good cop and bad cop. It was surprisingly successful.

“Happened to find him?” Dick questioned, rolling down from the support beam he was perched on and revealed himself. The boy turned to him, his hair fanning across his face. A black stripe cut into his silvery hair. It was the inverse of Jason’s hair, Dick thought absently. 

The boy’s face was blank, unsurprised to see another vigilante popping up behind him. Dick’s eyes were drawn to the scar on his neck. It spanned most of the neck and would be most definitely fatal if it was deep enough. The boy was 15, 16 years max. Where would he have gotten a scar like that? Not to mention, he was too calm in this situation. Blood and viscera surrounded him and all he seemed was bored. 

Slight motion to the right made Dick’s eyes snap to the plush on the boy’s shoulder, almost certain that it moved on its own. “How exactly did you find him? We can't be sure you weren’t the one who abducted him, after all.”

The boy took his time to answer, his face slightly scrunched in thought. Faint sound of movement emerged from his comm but he showed no signs of hearing it.

He pointed to the body of the cultest then to the mound that Dick hadn’t paid much attention to as he answered, “They kidnapped Robin, me, and a couple other kids. They killed the others. Who are you?

Dick heard a sharp inhale, likely in reaction to the dead children. It looked like they were thrown there uncaringly, Dick thought angrily. They were piled on top of each other, some of their limbs bent unnaturally. Most of the injuries were from a slit neck, but there were signs of other injuries. These poor kids were likely tortured first then slaughtered. 

He could see Bruce soften after the boy answered, likely thinking the same things as Dick.

Dick sighed silently, sheathing his escrima sticks as he walked to stand closer to Bruce and Damian. “I’m called Nightwing. Can you tell us why you and Robin are unharmed?”

“They already summoned the God of the Dead, or Corpse God, by then. It wasn't needed.” Jason cursed. They were too late, for both the kids and the summoning. Not to mention the ominous name of the being that was summoned. Just what were these cultists planning for summoning such a being? Probably to ‘rid the world of impurities’ like every other cult he came across.

Bruce asked for confirmation of the being, pulling out his ‘victim voice’. It was significantly softer than what he usually spoke as Batman. The boy nodded, affirming their suspicions on the being. Though, where was it? Usually, summoned being raged and caused destruction in their wake, especially ones with such ominous names. There was no sign of this one.

Dick pasted on a smile and bent closer to the boy, “Did you see where the God of the Dead went?” 

The boy nodded as he bit his lips, visibly nervous. It was a bit strange to see such an expression on the child when he was blase for most of the conversation. He leaned forward as the boy cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered, “He’s still here.” 

Dick felt a shiver race down his spine, one of his siblings sucked in a breath. That was… not good. Was this a trap? Had the God of the Dead been lying in wait and observing them since they had arrived?

The atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone was tense and ready for battle. Of course, that was when Damian began to stir, calling out to Bruce once he opened his eyes. Bruce adjusted his hold on Damian, beginning to answer Damian before he was cut off by the boy.

“Can I go now? I was with my friends before this. They’re probably worried.” Dick most certainly couldn't let a key witness, and a most definitely traumatized child, wander off without supervision. 

“Sorry, you’re coming with us.” Dick said apologetically. 

The boy did not like that. He crossed his arms and gave them an annoyed look. “Why?”

Jason, Tim, and Cass took this as the perfect time to reveal themselves. They hopped down from their respective posts and gathered near Bruce. Tim, however, aimed for the cultists as he responded, “We need more information and to verify your story. And for your protection.” 

The boy's eyes lingered over Cass and Jason before focusing on the latter, his expression curious. Jason obviously noticed but didn't pay it any mind, more interested in fussing over Damian who wasn’t having it, swatting Jason’s hovering hands away. 

“Won't that be kidnapping? Since I don't want to go to a secondary location with strangers? Kidnapping is illegal, you know.”

Jason answered as he finally relented from teasing Damian, “Well, it's a good thing the law is more like suggestions to us.” This did nothing to stop the boy from looking apprehensive. Good job, Jason, Dick thought tiredly.

Tim interrupted the boy when he stated that the cultists were, in fact, not dead. It blindsided Dick. Many of the cultists were in pieces as others had bled enough to be six feet under.

Damian looked mildly curious as Bruce and Tim questioned the survival of the cultists, likely thinking over the logistics of how they still lived. Eventually, Bruce asked Tim to alert the hospital and GCPD. They wouldn't be arriving in a long while, it was still Gotham after all.

Dick walked over to them as they discussed the boy and the cultist, hearing the tail end of Tim’s suspicions. 

“—clearly up with him. Despite the situation he’s in, he is unusually calm.”

That was true, not many kids were so nonchalant about almost being ritually sacrificed. Or seeing mangled bodies and pools of blood laying around.

Dick glanced at the boy—he really should be calling him Polka by now, since it was the only name he was given—seeing him grow red-faced as he spoke with Jason. 

The almost silent crackle of a radio signaled their time was up, they needed to leave before the police arrived. 

Herding Polka out of the building and out of sight was easy, all they needed to do was avoid cameras and stick to the shadowed side of the alley. Those who saw the group were quick to run away.

Losing Polka, however, was not something Dick expected to happen. They all were hyper aware of their surroundings, and in turn, the kid. How he managed to disappear under the scrutiny of six highly trained vigilantes, Dick didn't know. 

They had to admit defeat after searching the area and beyond for an hour and a half, Damian being sent back for an examination despite his objections early into their search, and trudge back to the cave unsuccessful. 

Dick watched Jason walk into the infirmary—jokingly nicknamed the “batfirmary” by Steph— and remove his helmet from his seat next to Damian’s cot. Steph walked in after him, plopping down on the end of the mattress next to Jason and ignored Damian’s hissed demands for them to get off. 

Cass slunk in a moment later, Tim behind her. He was still typing on his wrist computer as he sat on the opposite side of Damian. Cass leaned on the arm of his chair, gazing curiously at the screen.

Off to the right, through a sliver of the thick cloth that blocked the med bay, sat Bruce. The light from the Batcomputer illuminated his bent figure. 

Dick pursed his lips, not liking the expression that crossed his father’s face. Whenever there were children involved, Bruce always got into a mood. It wasn’t that the rest of them didn’t, but Bruce’s mood was always the worst. He wouldn't accept any food or comfort until he solved the case and got justice for the innocent children. 

As his child and fellow vigilante, Dick couldn't let Bruce neglect himself like that, least of all when it wasn’t his fault the children died. He stood, walking over to Bruce and laid a hand on his shoulder. He gently squeezed, offering all the comfort that was allowed. Bruce gave him a weary smile.

“You should join us.” Dick said, retracting his hand to cross his arms. “It does you no good just sitting here. Damian needs you right now.” 

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just… I need to give those children justice.”

“Bruce, they aren’t going anywhere. You need to focus on the child in front of you.” Dick winced at how that came out. “I mean, Damian should be your priority right now. He’s recovering from being kidnapped!”

“You're right.” Bruce sighed, straightening his back slightly. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

Dick walked back to his seat, pleased with the sound of Bruce’s footsteps behind him. He watched as Damian’s face brightened when he spotted his father, and the subsequent haughty look he made to cover it up. 

“How are you doing, Damian?” Bruce asked, sitting on the cot. 

“I am fine, Father. It was just a scratch.” Damian answered, lifting his chin then frowning. “I didn't need to be hauled to the infirmary. I could have helped track down the boy.”

“We had to check if the cultist had done anything else to you. Would you rather not know if they had? And how did they manage to even snatch you anyways?” Tim intervened, crossing his legs as he looked up from his wrist computer. 

“They used defenseless animals against me.” Dick almost cooed at Damian’s pout. He was always glad to see Damian act his age. 

“What kinds of animals?” Steph leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. 

“… Kittens.” Damian admitted quietly.

“They lured you in with kittens?!” Jason said hysterically. Muffled snorts came from all around, Dick himself wasn't exempt from laughing either. Everyone but Jason quickly pasted on an innocent face when Damian furiously glared at them, he didn't bother covering up his laughter. Even Bruce seemed amused, his eyes darting between them with a fond look on his face.

“Do you remember what happened?” Cass signed. Dick could tell she was still worried about Damian, the sides of her eyes were creased and her lips held together tightly.

“I passed out after I was hit over the head.” Damian began, the bedding clenched in his fists. “I remember waking up a couple of times but it wasn't for long. The last time I awoke, the boy was there.”

Bruce put his hand over Damian, his lips pursed. He clearly didn't like how his son was treated, and looking around, none of them were. “Did he do anything?”  

“He told me to rest.” Damian said simply, brows furrowed.

“And you did?” Tim asked, dumbfounded. Dick was just as confused, Damian barely took orders from them that he deemed unnecessary, so him listening to a random civilian? It was unheard of.

“That was the strange thing. The moment he told me to, I was overwhelmed with drowsiness. I couldn't help falling asleep.”

A magic user? Dick thought speculatively. Or perhaps a meta? There were many abilities that could cause someone to fall unconscious with just a word, and just as many with aftereffects. Dick prayed that there weren’t any lasting effects on Damian, he wasn't sure what he would do if there were.

“I knew there was something up with him!” Tim announced, jumping up from his seat. “The fact that he was so calm in such a bloody environment was the first clue. Why would he be calm, let alone stay in that warehouse, when he was abducted and watched others be sacrificed? Plus, despite telling us the Corpse God—or God of the Dead, whatever— there was no sign of the being other than the cultist’s dismangled bodies. Why did he lie?” He paced back and forth, letting his theories flow like water.

Cass knocked on the wall, gathering their attention. She signed, “He didn’t lie.”

“He didn’t?” Dick questioned, understandably confused.

She shook her head, “He was truthful the whole time, but was he hiding something.” 

“He could have been misleading you.” Steph crossed her arms. “He was being pretty vague in the recordings I watched. Plus, some of his words could have been taken in a different way.”

“That's true. The way he slipped away from us wasn’t something a civilian could do. Even a meta would be hard pressed to disappear from right under our noses.” Jason spoke up, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“I’ll call Zatanna.” Bruce sighed, getting up from his seat. “Get some rest, we’ll have a long day tomorrow.”

“He’s right. We need to conserve our energy for interrogating Polka tomorrow.” Dick ushered his disgruntled sibling towards the staircase leading to the manor.

Once he was sure they were in their rooms, Jason deciding it was too late to go to his own safehouse, he returned to the cave. Damian was unsurprisingly still awake, his stubbornness fighting against his weariness. 

Dick dimmed the lights of the cave and headed towards the infirmary. Giving his brother a quick peck on the forehead and tucking him in, much to Damian’s displeasure, he grabbed a tablet and wrote up a report next to the cot. He made sure to include his sibling’s theories in the notes margin.

Soft muttering sounded off to the side, behind the infirmary’s curtain. After making sure Damian was asleep, Dick crept towards the sound. Around the corner, Bruce’s frustrated voice spoke. He ended the call a minute after he spotted Dick leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.

“Constantine?”

“Zatanna was busy.” Bruce ran his hands through his hair. He was clearly tired after the eventful day, but Bruce would continue working despite his complaints, Dick bitterly thought. He shook his head, now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts. 

Dick hummed and walked towards the Batcomputer. He sat down, Bruce a couple feet away typing away on another monitor. He transferred his half finished report to the computer in front of him, finding a keyboard easier to write with than a tablet. 

He let out a yawn. He had been up for more than twenty four hours, most of that time spent patrolling and studying cases in the Batcave. He laid his head on his arms, a quick nap wouldn't hurt, would it?

Distantly, he felt a heavy weight cover him. He let out a murmur of thanks for the blanket and fell asleep, not hearing the whispered response. 

The insistent buzzing of the tablet woke him. He stretched, his back popping, before unlocking the tablet. A gasp escaped him once he laid eyes on the screen.

“Uh, B? You’ll need to see this.” Bruce looked at him in question before rolling closer, eyes widening slightly once he read the article.

In strikingly bold letters, the headline was “JOKER MAULED BY THE UNDEAD”.

Wrote a large chunk of this months ago and just sat on it since I didn't know how to write batfam interactions. I'm pretty satisfied with how it came out :)

<< Chapter 1 | Masterpost | Chapter 3 >>

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[argyrocratie]

"I immediately got involved in the ongoing socialization process. My group, the one that had occupied the barracks, immediately created a food depot, open to all, in the neighborhood where I lived. We assesed consumption needs and, subsequently, we intervened with certain workshops to intensify production. For example, I, who knew how to make bread, remember going, in the midst of a shooting, to help out at the neighborhood bakery. We were very imbued with the Kropotkinian idea - developed in The Conquest of Bread - according to which any revolution which proves incapable of feeding the people is lost in advance.

From there, we got our hands on all the grocery stores and warehouses in the neighborhood and we would go to the surrounding villages to exchange industrial products for foodstuffs. It was not a question of robbing the peasants, but of making them understand that we needed eggs and milk for the wounded in the hospitals. Knowing that the Catalan peasants are a little selfish, and being armed with our weapons, we could have proceeded authoritatively, but we would only have gained their antipathy. So we brought fabrics, canned goods and anything else they needed and exchanged them for chickens, potatoes and beans, which we loaded into our trucks. In the neighborhood, the products of the grocery stores, whose owners had been driven out, were centralized in a single place, where the people were invited to help themselves freely.

And how did it work?

Money having been abolished, the distribution of edibles was organized in the neighborhood on the basis of tickets, but they were only used for very specific items. For essential foodstuffs, all you had to do was go to the central grocery store and help yourself. We had, of course, a surveillance service responsible for spotting and investigating hoarders. I happened to go, one day, myself, to a lady who we were told had bread and bags of potatoes in quantity, which was true. There were controls. The market was free, open, but no abuse was tolerated.

A week after this system was put in place, an official from the regional committee of Catalonia visited us and, as he knew me, he began to explain to me how we should organize ourselves:

- It is essential, he told me, to create supply commissions to organize supplies...

I started laughing, and took him into the collective store.

- Look, that’s exactly what we did, without waiting for you...

In fact, the initiative returned to the people, without slogans or oders. They took the lead, without even the intervention of the CNT authorities. The workers had collectivized spontaneously, occupying the workshops of their own accord and putting them back into operation. The CNT did nothing other than confirm what had happened and which, for a lot of it, had been the work of their militants. The committees, too, were overwhelmed and waiting. This was, on my small scale, my experience in the field of collectivization."

-"Un entretien avec José Peirats" (1976)

[daveythefool]

something about verity doesn't make sense to me. why would they love morris if he's so devoted to the company they hate?

{This is fixing to be a long answer, I am SO SORRY, you have indulged the hyperfixation fr, I could talk for hours about this man! }

Mostly, Verity's reasoning is based around how I'm setting up the story for them, and how I head canon Morris would be as a multifaceted character. There's a few mods out there that do this already- add in more personality and reason behind him & his actions in-game than the vanilla game allows him- such as Morris Redeemed and Marry Morris. {Great mods, even if it's for the bit, I'd recommend trying them out and seeing the awesome work the people who made them put in!}

Anyway, Morris absolutely feels like a cartoonish, over-the-top bad guy. He's meant to be the overall "villain" of Stardew, a personification of Joja itself as the big scummy company, so it makes sense. Surface level personality of "he's just evil to be evil", not meant to be taken seriously at all, he's written exactly as he's intended to be for vanilla game. He's great as just that!

So, of course, it's not necessary to ask the questions "What if he's not actually just a big ol' greedy scumbag? What if there's more to it?", but it's so FUN to.

Therefore, for Verity's story, the answer is a resounding: yes, there's more to it. I'm definitely going to end up leaning into the fact that he DOES feel like the personification of Joja, not because he likes it, but because {like Verity at one point in time} he felt like Joja would bring him the life he wanted/wants.

Being over-the-top for his job just seemed like the right way to go about that for him, so he's constantly pushing for membership cards, hounding his employees to put in 100% of their effort just like he is. He's the manager of the whole store; his job rides on their performance in Joja's eyes just as much as THEIR jobs ride on his & their own performances. So, he performs. And he presses those who work with and under him to perform, too. It's a constant, monotonous, day-to-day show in order to keep the one Joja store in this small, barely-make-a-profit town floating. Those above him press him about how they'll tear the store down if that store doesn't meet the quota Joja wants- that if he doesn't get another membership to build that warehouse and please Joja corp., he's screwed, and on top of that, the employees who rely on the paycheck that Joja provides them are ALSO screwed.

Poor Shane is obviously crumbling apart at the seams as is, and the last thing Morris wants to do is fail these employees of his.

He cares about the people in the Valley, it's just that he's been made to believe that allowing a corporation like Joja to treat himself and others as less-than-human, forcing them to consistently and constantly mask any "undesirable" traits/behaviors in order to continue making the company the highest profit they can, please the company as a whole, put the store on some kind of corporate radar, will bring himself and others a good and happy existence. That the Joja brand suffering is normal, and worth it. Please the system, and the system will be good to you.

Except, it isn't, and it won't. Joja is a company that will use you up, and spit you out without care the moment you disappoint their already too-high expectations. The opening scene, after all, is of the office space Verity came from- constant surveillance to make sure every second is spent working, high turnover, and a significant lack of warmth and life in the building. It is cold, imposing, and highly stress-inducing. It's not a stretch to imagine that {playing off of some things in the Marry Morris mod} Morris had been unable to attend his father's funeral, and isn't able to visit his mother very often. That's something Verity can relate to him on. They didn't get much, if any, off-time from Joja, and their interpersonal relationships {not to mention their relationship with themself} suffered for it. Just because Verity hates the company, doesn't mean they hate or should/would be hateful to those that are still stuck working for it; they aren't the kind of person to take somebody's actions/behavior purely at face value, even if they aren't happy with what they did. It doesn't take hating a person to ask them if they're really happy with the conditions they're living under, if their job is really worth the cost it brings them- it takes actually caring enough to bother asking. That's what Verity brought to the metaphorical table for Morris; someone who could understand where he's coming from, even if they refused to fit in his static worldview. Someone willing to hold a conversation about whys and hows and what fors, instead of "you're just another shitty boss, and underneath that, you're just another shitty person; I'll do everything I can to make sure you never have your way." Verity didn't work on the community center out of spite and/or hatred. They did it because they fully felt it was the right thing to do in order to aid and uplift the community they, also, care about, instead of forcing them to submit to whatever Joja wants. That included Morris, as a member of the community. It's a whole thing, that Morris in the end doesn't actually want what Joja wants; he wants what he, as an individual, wants, and what he wants is for everyone he cares about to be happy, healthy... thriving. TL;DR Verity went a route he didn't/couldn't bring himself to take, and when the Center was refurbished, he suffered a Character Arch:tm: and frienemies to lovers shenanigans ensued.

[w33nies]

Qué Maravilla CH.3 - 'One Step Forward, Two Steps Back'

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Next Chapter

Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh summary: ??? art is not mine!!!! @mossbun_ on twitter !!!!

------ Ch.3 - One Step Forward, Two Steps Back ------

You step through the portal and before you know it you’re freefalling through kaleidoscope colors before landing feet first on an unfamiliar rooftop. You stared out into Brooklyn, New York of Earth-1610. It was the dead of night and this place was crawling with spiders, more than you’ve ever seen in one place. 

You use your web to swing from building to building doing your best to avoid being seen. Easier said than done. Almost every corner you turn or building you scale you find yourself having to backtrack and hide for cover. You needed a plan and fast. Who were you even looking for? Miguel? Miles? Peter? Jess? What would you even do if you found them? 

You stop to hide behind a rooftop ac unit, once safe you remove your mask to catch your breath. Your chest heaving, your throat burning, and your body sore to the touch. Even just sitting down causes you to wince in pain. You'd be searching for what, an hour and a half? Two hours maybe? And you still hadn’t the slightest clue what exactly was going on. Exhausted, you close your eyes and slump against the ac letting the air soothe your aching muscles.

This is going to be harder than you thought. 

“Oi.” A deep cockney voice spoke from above. You looked up in disbelief to see a fellow spiderman sitting on the AC unit just above your head. He sported a metal mohawk and wore a denim jacket over his uniform with guitar strapped to his back. “Hiding from the big man, are ya?” He pulled off his mask to reveal a head full of stylish wicks and a smug, lip-pierced smile.

“Hobie?”

In one fell swoop he jumped from the unit and landed by your side, “Hardly believed it when you went against him. By the looks of it you really vexed him mate.” He fiddled with a guitar pick in his hands, “Seems to me you're in loads trouble if you show face now.” He did an impressive show of weaving the pick between each of his fingers and tossing it in the air before catching it in his hands “So, what do you make of this whole… canon, multiverse nonesone.”

 “Actually, I’m not entirely sure,” you speak reluctantly as your mind bounces back and forth between Miguel and that 44.3%. “But we can’t keep letting people get hurt just because that’s the way it’s always been. The system or the society or whatever, it all needs an overhaul for sure.” 

Hobie takes a moment to ponder your reply before letting out an amused chuckle, “Alright then, good enough” He stood up, pulling on his mask “You pass. Follow me.” Before you can say a word Hobie breaks into a sprint before free falling from the rooftop. Only firing his web at the last possible second and landing on the neighboring building “Well? Do you wanna do somethin’ or not?” 

You chuckle to yourself, “Kids these days,” and you sprint off after him. 

                                                            -    -    - 

“Oi, look who I found!” 

You followed Hobie across the city until you had made your way to an abandoned warehouse. After landing on the roof, Hobie takes quick surveillance of his surroundings before opening the skylight window and motioning for you to jump inside. You ceremoniously drop to the center of a large room where a makeshift headquarters has been set in place. The second your feet hit the floor with a loud thud, all eyes in the room turned towards you. 

“YO! That’s what I’m talking about, ” Pavitr runs towards you enthusiastically and daps you up with an extremely intricate handshake. You were glad to see him here. You had worried the incursion in his home dimension would put him off the idea of usurping the canon. “How’s Mumbattan?” you ask. 

“Better!” he exclaimed while still holding your hand. “We got that scary gorging hole under control now,” He spoke beaming with pride and you smiled in return, his smile was just that infectious. “It was just too easy.” You chuckled at his pride. 

The second you release his hand you find yourself pulled into a tight hug. The initial motion shocks you until you take a glance at the suit of the figure holding you, white and pink with the hoodie dangling down her neck. You wrap your arms around her to reciprocate the hug. 

“Thank you for being here,” she whispered into your shoulder.

“How did you-” 

“-Hobie helped me out.” You lift your head to see Hobie giving you a salute with two fingers, “Lookin’ out for my drummer is all.” 

“I’m glad you guys are okay.” You hug her tighter.  The vivid memory of Miguel sending her home left you with a sick stomach. You should’ve tried to stop him. You should’ve said something at least. Anything. Instead you just stood there. Instead you did nothing. The guilt was eating you alive even with her firm embrace that threatened to snap your back. What was the point of wearing the mask if you were just going to be a coward regardless? 

“Gwen I'm so sorry. I should’ve-”

“-It’s okay, don't worry.” She released you from the hug and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “What matters now is that we find Miles. Look, Miguel is wrong about the multiverse.” She begins to explain the events that took place since you last saw her. Her conversation with her father and his eventual resignation. The watch Hobie had left her and the ragtag army she managed to form within just a couple of hours.

“We don’t have to follow the canon,” she spoke enthusiastically. “The multiverse doesn’t have to collapse. We can write our own stories. We’re in charge of our own futures.”

You smiled. She reminded you so much of your niece. “I’m with you on that,” you said with a nod. A rupture of agreement from the other revolutionists came afterward. 

“Alright we have to find Miles before Miguel does. We need a plan,” Everyone gathers around and you all start deciding your next steps. You all decided to divide yourselves up into two groups, one going undercover and the other searching for Miles. You opted to be in the latter. After everyone went off to their respective duties you make a beeline towards Gwen. 

“Hey, I just wanna say that you make a good leader” you playfully bump her shoulder with your fist “and an amazing spider woman.” 

She smiles. “Thank you, it means a lot.” 

Hobie threw his arms around the both of you and turn addressed the other spiders, “Well then, looks like we’re going on tour.”

                                                         -    -    - 

You found Miguel perched atop an office building with arms tightly crossed. His mouth sat in a large frown and his brow was deeply furrowed. He was alone, standing with his hip sticking out and his head cocked to the side. You consider leaving him there. Honestly, you did. You were far more concerned with finding Miles, but then you did something stupid. You let yourself stare for just a moment. Then a moment turned into a moment too long. Then before you knew it you were engrossed in the spectacle that is Miguel O’hara. You found yourself trying to imprint every detail of the scene to memory. The determined, stoic look on his face. The image of him overlooking the city only to be illuminated by the moonlight and the city glare. His towering frame. The sculpted body with muscles of a roman warrior. You had seen it all before. Miguel’s physical prowess and good looks were not lost on you. However, they never made you pause. They never stopped you in your tracks like this. You don't ever remember it making you feel this…nervous. 

It was odd enough that you were just standing there watching him. You silently thanked the multiverse for not giving Miguel a spider sense. Also the fact that he was simply so lost in his thoughts he wouldn’t notice you even if you stood right in front of him. You had to make a choice. I should leave him alone, you thought to yourself. This is a waste of my time. It's not like he’s going to change his mind. Still you found yourself slowly inching closer and closer, What if he just sends me back?

Next thing you knew you were right next to him, his strong back mostly turned away from you. He was close enough to touch. You reach a hand to place on his shoulder, but then you catch yourself. What would I even say?

“Miguel, ” his head whirled around at the sound of your voice, “We need to talk.”

 “¡Pero qué cojones! How did-” you reach up on your tippy toes to cover his mouth with your hand.

“You have to listen to me I-” you're interrupted by a sharp pain piercing through your palm. You remove your hand to see him with his mouth open, baring his fangs, “OWWW! Did you just bite me? What are you, nine?” You step away from him cradling your wounded hand. 

“I didn’t bite you that hard. It should be fine in about a minute-twentyfive .”

“A minute twenty five, what are you-?”

You stop as you feel an odd numbing sensation stirring in your fingertips. Before you knew it you had lost all feeling in your fingers, then your knuckles. The feeling spread all the way down to your wrist causing it to go limp completely. Despite your mental protests, your hand simply refused to move in capacity. Miguel O’hara didn’t just bite you, he paralyzed your hand.

A loud “Huh?!” was all you could muster in response. You could’ve sworn that some nearby birds took immediate flight in response to your outburst. 

“That’s what happens when you sneak up on me-”

You interrupt him by shooting a web over his mouth with your free other hand. “Hey!” he shouts, completely muffled. 

“You’re so- Listen, I have something important to tell you.” 

He rips the webbing off with his claws, “I already know what you’re gonna-”

“It's about the multiverse.” 

“And I told you, it can wait until after.”

“Miguel O’hara, I swear to god, will you just let me talk?”

He massaged the bridge of his nose with a pained look on his face. “Fine. What is it? You have three, no, two minutes before I send you back to HQ.” He crossed his arms with an expectant look on his face and tapped his foot on the edge of the building, “starting now.”

 “Okay,” you took a deep breath “I think it’s very possible the multiverse won’t collapse if we-,” 

“-Literally not possible. Look at what happened with Pavitr.” 

“Yeah, but-” you think about bringing up Gwen and her father, but then you bite your tongue. That could open up a floodgate of questions and you can’t risk talking you and the others into a corner,  “I know but, I just… I don't think it’s enough evidence.” 

You winced a little as the words left your mouth. It was a weak rebuttal and you knew it. You probably should’ve equipped yourself with more info before this confrontation, but it’s not like you were planning to run into him in the first place. And now that you did, you didn’t exactly want to risk rating out Gwen or Layla. Maybe you should’ve just left Miguel to brood by his lonesome. 

“Not enough? That’s more than enough.”

“Okay but what about  Earth-42? They don’t have a spider.”

“So? What does that have to do with the multiverse?’

“If Earth 42 can survive with a spider, then maybe we’re going about this all wrong. Maybe the multiverse won’t be doomed if we- .”

“-Are you kidding me?” 

“Look if 42-”.

“-Aye. ” he groans as he slowly drags his hand down his face, stretching out each and every muscle in one drawn out motion,  “Look cariño, I want to believe these things just as much as you. I want so badly to be wrong. To be able to change the world, to change our lives into what they could be instead of what they are. But we can’t afford to be testing our hypotheses when the stability of the multiverse is at stake and especially not now. We have to operate on what we know, not on hope.” 

“Miguel…” no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t think of anything to say. You couldn’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze. 

He gently holds your chin as he raises your face to meet his, “I’ve been down this road…It’s not pretty. I’m sorry cariño but you can't have your cake and eat it too.”

You inch your face towards his, mere millimeters from contact, “Don’t you ever want to figure out how it all works?”

“Of course I do.” 

“How do you plan to get there if you’re too afraid to even start?”

“You know what?” He spoke softly, his hands moved to hold you by your arms as he lowered his stature until you were eye to eye, “I don’t know, but if there's any chance that I stop the same mistake, stop someone from going through what I went through. I-” His voice choked. He ever so slightly rubbed his thumb on your bicep for comfort. He hoped you didn’t notice, “I can’t let that happen, not again. It's the debt I have to pay.” 

“I know you have a lot on your shoulders Miguel,” you sigh “This burden you carry. I know you messed up and I could never imagine what it would be like to go through what you experienced,” you move your good hand to cup his cheek. He’s startled initially but then leans into your touch. “You don’t fix the past by fighting the future.”

“It’s not just about ‘fixing’. It’s about keeping things the way they should be. The way they have to be.” His eyes bore deeply into your own, practically pleading, The way he saw it, it was more than fixing, it was about keeping everyone and, more importantly, keeping you safe. By keeping you close, yet not too close.  It was only by some miracle Peter found you and brought you to him. He would never admit it but he was overjoyed to have you back, but he didn't want to meddle in your life again. He couldn’t let himself get involved with you. Last time that happened…

You finally bridged the gaps between your foreheads. The very sensation caused his cheeks to burn, “Is it really the way it has to be? Or is it just the way it’s always been.” 

“Same difference,” He spoke softly into your ear, his lips hovering dangerously close towards your jaw. 

“And about Earth 42,” He finally lifted his head so the two of you were facing each other again, “It’s probably due to some connection to the Spot, or Miles maybe. Something with their DNA or the spider from that dimension.”  

You look back at him with an amused stare. Whenever Miguel doesn't have the answer to a question he always has to come up with some hypothesis. He was not a man who could leave things at a simple “I don’t know” without coming up with an educated guess. While sometimes coming off stubborn, you found it endearing at times. You let out a giggle which causes him to mumble under his breath “...or something like that. It’s just conjecture.” He bit the inside of his cheek like he always does when he’s embarrassed. It was rare to see him so bashful. You found it kinda cute.

“I mean, well, I can’t even find the kid.” He continued while walking towards the nearest wall and resting his weight against it ,“It’s like he’s avoiding this place entirely,” Miguel joked.

“Well he did use the ‘Go Home Machine’ and it's not like he has a watch” You pointed out. 

“Yeah it tracks his DNA to his home dimension,” Miguel sighed “It’s not like he has anywhere else.” 

“His DNA…,” a lightbulb went off in your head, “Miguel, if we can’t find him here what if he’s-”

“We will,” he waved his hand dismissively, “He wants to save his dad.” 

“Hmm, well It’s not like he can exactly choose with that machine anyways.”

“That’s true…” he conceded. 

 A contemplative quiet took hold as you both mull over the optics. It was a 50/50 chance, but you both were no stranger to those odds. If Miles could be one of two places and if the entire spider society was having trouble locating him here…

“Fuck!” the both of you exclaimed in unison. You both race to dial your watches in an attempt to open a portal before the other. Despite your haste, Miguel manages to open his first and attempts to rush through.Thankfully regaining sense in your numb hand you aim a web at his ankles and he trips forward. You sprint ahead but he quickly recovers and grabs your wrist. 

“You’re going back to HQ!”

“Like hell I will!” you manage to wriggle your arm free but he grabs you by your sides and spins you around so his back is to the portal. You try to shake his grip but to no avail. 

“Why won’t you just listen to me!” You might have misheard, but you swore you heard desperation in his voice. 

Regardless, you sweep your leg against his ankle causing him to tumble backwards. Startled, he instinctively wraps his arms around you with your face against his chest. 

Then you both fell through the portal.