View allAll Photos Tagged Contingency
A U.S. Soldier, assigned to Bravo Company, 1st Squadron, 9th Cavalry Regiment, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Calvary Division, provides security outside an enemy compound during Decisive Action Rotation 15-05 at the National Training Center, Fort Irwin, Calif., Feb. 25, 2015. The rotation ensures brigades remain versatile, responsive and consistently available for the current fight and unforeseen future contingencies. (U.S. Army photo by Sgt. Richard W. Jones Jr./Released) dvidshub.net/r/bfea44
A U.S. Air Force loadmaster assigned to the 164th Airlift Wing, Tennessee Air National Guard directs an all-terrain forklift onto a C-17 aircraft to support rescue operations in Texas following Hurricane Harvey, at the Kentucky Air National Guard Base in Louisville, Kentucky, Aug. 29, 2017. More than 30 Kentucky Air Guardsmen and 90 tons of equipment were airlifted from Louisville to Houston to stand up an aeromedical evacuation and air cargo hub. (U.S. Air National Guard photo by Lt. Col. Dale Greer) www.dvidshub.net
A Surrey Police Vito seen on patrol near Horsham. This was in neighbouring Sussex's area!
3rd August 2017.
© Calum's 999 & Transport Photography. All rights reserved.
OKINAWA, Japan (March 4, 2017) Amphibious assault ship USS Bonhomme Richard (LHD 6) arrives at White Beach Naval Facility for a scheduled port visit. During the visit, 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU) Marines will embark the ship and on-load cargo and equipment. Bonhomme Richard is on a routine patrol, operating in the Indo-Asia-Pacific region to serve as a forward-capability for any type of contingency. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class William Sykes/Released)
Forecaster Mark Wilson said the Contingency Planning Forecast - which is used by the government to prep for extreme weather - was predicting the first three months of 2019 were likely to be much frostier than normal.
And Met Office spokesman Simon Partridge said when a similar three-month forecast was issued at the start of last year, those predictions came starkly true.
Last winter, winds from Siberia pushed in from the east, causing the mercury to plummet - with even daytime temperatures struggling to rise above zero.
Partridge said: "Last year there was widespread snow across many parts of the UK and temperatures were well below average.
"There's a higher chance of seeing colder spells, and given that, as a result, there's a slightly higher chance of snow across the UK."
Weather forecasters believe that the snowstorm could hit Britain in late January, although they doubt it will be as severe as last year's cold weather.
The first snow of the year has already blasted Brits across the UK, with the flakes seen as far south as London.
Outbreaks of rain and wintry showers are expected to batter the UK with temperatures plummeting to -9C in Scotland and to 0C in the southeast of England.
Met Office forecasters warned snow could settle over the hills in northern England and Scotland.
But the freeze threatens to last well into February with more frost, ice and snow on the way. (from The Sun)
I woke up early for photography one day last week in Portrush only to find no sunshine but the liquid kind. Can you imagine that in Ireland? Perhaps if you've ever been to Ireland you could... it rained every day we were there (10 days), but rain is always a contingency when what you're shooting for is out in the elements... there's beauty to be seen in rain as well, so we geared up for this trip before we set the first foot from our house.
As always, I tended to burn the candle at both ends with the camera on this trip. After seeing a sky full of rain clouds out the hotel window on this morning, I almost crawled back into bed before I saw this ship anchored in the bay from my hotel window... at 384-feet bow to stern, you would think it would be hard to miss. Rain or not, I had to get a shot of it from a closer vantage point.
The ship is the Sea Cloud II. It is the latest square-rigged ship to be built, and though it hearkens back to the days of wind-driven ships, it is quite the luxury cruiser. The history of the Mayflower might have been a different story if it had a lido deck! The likely reason it's parked there are the many golf courses that line the coast of Northern Ireland. It truly is a golfer's paradise with the most beautiful courses as this green attests. Oh, you think these colors are punched up? They're not... Ireland really is an Emerald Isle.
We had spent much of this day with a friend in Belfast... on returning from the train station in Coleraine, I was pleased to see it was still there. Joyce and I decided to have dinner at our hotel's pub to wait out sunset just a little, where I discussed being happy with this particular shot... I should know better than to make such statements. We took less than an hour at the pub, but in that time, that boat just flat disappeared... there's no way it set up sails that quickly! It was nowhere to be seen, so I'd better be happy with this shot! Reminds me of rich people when asked about how much more money they need... it's always just a little more. With that in mind, I'm truly blessed with this shot.
Rick Nybakken, Juno project manager, Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL), rips up the contingency plan for the Juno mission at a post Jupiter orbit insertion (JOI) press conference after the Juno team received confirmation from the spacecraft that it had completed the engine burn and successfully entered into orbit around Jupiter, Monday, July 4, 2016 at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, CA. The Juno mission launched August 5, 2011 and will orbit the planet for 20 months to collect data on the planetary core, map the magnetic field, and measure the amount of water and ammonia in the atmosphere. Photo Credit: (NASA/Aubrey Gemignani)
Pictured are members of 34 Squadron RAF Regiment receiving a briefing on the next part of their Live Firing Tactical Training on the Otterburn Training Area.
This training formed part of the Contingency Operating Training for the Joint Expeditionary Force.
With a strength of 164 personnel, including specialist engineering and support staff, the Squadron’s firepower is provided by a wide range of infantry weapons including sniper rifles, general purpose machine guns and light and medium mortars.
Fully air portable, the Squadron’s cross-country mobility is provided by a variety of off road platforms battlefield communications systems and a highly effective range of surveillance and night observation equipment which help complete 34 Squadron’s inventory to make it a flexible and powerful force capable of deploying anywhere in the world to defend British air assets or to take part in wider military action.
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© Crown Copyright 2014
Photographer: SAC Phil Dye
Image 45159212.jpg from www.defenceimages.mod.uk
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Between the late evening of 22 February and the early morning of 23 February 1979, 25 construction workers from Texas, constructing a naval base in the port of Char Bahar, were evacuated in the early morning hours by Kinkaid, and they were brought to the small island of Bahrain. This became known as the "Gulf of Aden/Yemen Indian Ocean Contingency Operation of 12/8/78 - 6/6/79". The crew of Kinkaid were awarded the Navy Expeditionary Medal and the Armed Forces Humanitarian Service Medal
In November 1989, Kinkaid and the Panamanian-registered freighter M/V Kota Petani were involved in a collision in the Strait of Malacca. The collision caused one death and 15 other casualties to the Kinkaid's crew, and US$15 million in damages to Kinkaid. She made Singapore under her own power for temporary repairs, then Subic Bay, Philippines, then San Diego for permanent repairs.
On 4 July 1993, Kinkaid paid a three-day port visit to Acajutla, marking the first visit by a United States warship to El Salvador in more than a dozen years. Kinkaid was then assigned to Destroyer Squadron 13 in San Diego and was, at the time, conducting two months of routine operations under the operational command of Joint Task Force Four, located in Key West, Florida. Kinkaid returned to San Diego in mid-August 1993
Kinkaid deployed on 10 November 1994, as part of the Constellation carrier battle group for a six-month deployment to the western Pacific, Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf. She spent most of December in the Western Pacific. With the Constellation carrier battle group, she entered the Persian Gulf, on 11 January 1995, and departed it on 23 March. The Constellation carrier battle group conducted several exercises during the deployment, including Beachcrest 95, a routine annual exercise that included air combat, air control and air-to-ground combat support training in designated areas on Okinawa and Ie Shima; Nautical Swimmer 95-2 and Nautical Artist 95-2, naval air and surface exercises intended to improve interoperability between forces of the United States and friendly Persian Gulf nations; Beacon Flash 95-1, a combined naval tactical air exercise to improve readiness with friendly Persian Gulf nations; Eager Archer 95-1, an air training exercise between units of CVW 2 and Kuwait that provided dissimilar air combat training, formal joint strike training and in-flight refueling training for the Kuwaiti air force; and Sharem 110, a United States anti-submarine warfare (ASW) training exercise in the Gulf of Oman involving several battle group units. The battle group also conducted exercises with units of the Royal Australian Navy off the coast of western Australia. Kinkaid made its seventh deployment and supported the battle group by performing the anti-submarine warfare mission
Kinkaid underwent a period of overhaul in June 1995. As a result of a reorganization of the Pacific Fleet's surface ships into six core battle groups and eight destroyer squadrons, Kinkaid was reassigned to Destroyer Squadron 21. The reorganization was scheduled to have been completed by 1 October 1995, with homeport changes to be completed within the next year.
In mid-1997, as part of the Nimitz carrier battle group, Kinkaid took part in Pacific Joint Task Force Exercise 97-2 (JTFEX 97-2). The exercise was conducted off the coast of southern California and also included units from the Air Force, Army and Japan. Nimitz, from 20 July through 24 July, then conducted a warfighting demonstration called Surge Exercise (SURGEX), during which it demonstrated the firepower of the carrier/airwing team and its ability to sustain continuous operations in support of forces ashore in the initial four days of a conflict when a deployed carrier might be the only asset available to provide such support. During the exercise, Comstock, Kinkaid and Ford practiced maritime interception operations. Kinkaid also escorted the civilian merchant ship Viking Serenade through the simulated "war zone".
Kinkaid then deployed as part of the Nimitz carrier battle group. After Western Pacific visits in Yokosuka, Japan, and Hong Kong, a planned visit to Singapore was canceled when Iraq violated a United Nations imposed "no fly" zone. With Nimitz directed to proceed to the region immediately to reinforce Operation Southern Watch operations, Kinkaid arrived in the Persian Gulf on 12 October after transiting the Strait of Hormuz.
During Nimitz's deployment in the Persian Gulf, Kinkaid was accused by Iran of spying on its military exercises. Kinkaid was, however, in port in Bahrain at the purported time Iran claimed the spying was taking place.
Kinkaid returned on 28 February 1998, from a six-month Persian Gulf deployment. During the deployment Kinkaid served as Tomahawk ready strike platform, helped enforce the no-fly zone in Southern Iraq and conducted maritime interception operations.
Kinkaid was part of the Constellation carrier battle group, as Constellation officially relieved Theodore Roosevelt in the Persian Gulf in September 1999. The Constellation carrier battle group then spent the next 10 weeks in the Persian Gulf and conducted maritime interception operation boardings as well as flew combat air patrols over the Iraqi no-fly zones in support of Operation Southern Watch. During the period, Kinkaid rescued the merchant vessel Sima Star, a container ship, from sinking 70 miles (110 km) off the coast of Bahrain after taking on over 40 tons of water. Kinkaid sailors dewatered the fully loaded container ship, which was listing 15 degrees to the port side. After seven hours of battling poor ventilation and flooding below decks, Kinkaid's rescue and assistance team was able to return the Sima Star to a five-degree list, allowing its crew to sail into Bahrain the following Monday morning for repairs. Kinkaid returned home on 17 December 1999, after a six-months deployment. During its 10-week patrol in the Persian Gulf region, the Constellation carrier battle group flew more than 5,000 casualty-free sorties, including nearly 1,300 in support of Operation Southern Watch. These flights included nine separate combat strikes and more than 43 tons of ordnance expended on various Iraqi air defense sites in response to Iraqi aggression against coalition aircraft.
Kinkaid began, on 15 March 2001, a scheduled six-month 2001 Western Pacific (WestPac) deployment while attached to the Constellation carrier battle group (CVBG) and Boxer Amphibious Ready Group (ARG). The entire battle group had trained the previous six months in preparation for this deployment through a series of increasingly challenging exercises and operations. These pre-deployment exercises culminated in February 2001 with the successful completion of Joint Task Force Exercise 01-1. Over the following six months, battle group ships conducted multi-national and joint operations with the navies of various allied countries and visit ports in Western Pacific and Persian Gulf nations. The ships and squadrons were scheduled to return home in September.
The United States Navy Surface Force was scheduled to begin, in the summer of 2002, an initiative to test the effectiveness of deploying a single ship for 18-months while swapping out crews at six-month intervals. Called Sea Swap, this initial two-phased initiative would involve three Spruance-class destroyers (DDs)—Fletcher, Kinkaid and Oldendorf, and three Arleigh Burke-class destroyers (DDGs)—Higgins, John Paul Jones, and Benfold. For the DD phase, Fletcher and her crew would deploy with their battle group this summer, but after six months, only the crew would return. The ship would remain deployed and be manned by the crew from Kinkaid. After completing their training cycle and decommissioning Kinkaid, these sailors would fly to a port in either Australia or Singapore to assume ownership of Fletcher and steam her back on-station. After six months, they would be replaced by the crew from Oldendorf who would have completed the same training and decommissioning schedule with their ship before flying out to relieve the Kinkaid crew. After four more months on station, the Oldendorf crew would then bring Fletcher back to the United States where it too would be decommissioned. Additionally, by executing this plan, the Navy would be able to eliminate the deployment of Paul F. Foster because the additional on-station time generated by swapping out the crews meant a ship would already be in theater meeting that requirement.
Kinkaid was decommissioned 7 January 2003 and placed at Pearl Harbor NISMF. Kinkaid was stricken 6 April 2004 and sunk during RIMPAC 2004 exercise as a target 14 July 2004 in the Pacific Ocean at 22°55′13.5″N 159°59′40.5″W in 2,548 fathoms (15,288 feet; 4,660 meters) of water.
Info from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Kinkaid
Name:USS Kinkaid
Namesake:Thomas C. Kinkaid
Ordered:1 June 1970
Builder:Ingalls Shipbuilding
Laid down:19 April 1973
Launched:25 May 1974
Acquired:1 June 1976
Commissioned:10 July 1976
Decommissioned:7 January 2003
In service:1976
Out of service:2003
Struck:6 April 2004
Motto:"Steadfast and True"
Nickname(s):Kinky-D
Fate:Sunk as a target 14 July 2004
Class and type:Spruance-class destroyer
Displacement:8,040 (long) tons full load
Length:529 ft (161 m) waterline; 563 ft (172 m) overall
Beam:55 ft (16.8 m)
Draft:29 ft (8.8 m)
Propulsion:4 × General Electric LM2500 gas turbines, 2 shafts, 80,000 shp (60 MW)
Speed:32.5 knots (60.2 km/h; 37.4 mph)
Range:
6,000 nautical miles (11,000 km; 6,900 mi) at 20 knots (37 km/h; 23 mph)
3,300 nautical miles (6,100 km; 3,800 mi) at 30 knots (56 km/h; 35 mph)
Complement:19 officers, 315 enlisted
Sensors and
processing systems:
AN/SPS-40 air search radar
AN/SPG-60 fire control radar
AN/SPS-55 surface search radar
AN/SPQ-9 gun fire control radar
Mk 23 TAS automatic detection and tracking radar
AN/SPS-65 Missile fire control radar
AN/SQS-53 bow mounted Active sonar
AN/SQR-19 TACTAS towed array Passive sonar
Naval Tactical Data System
Electronic warfare
& decoys:
AN/SLQ-32 Electronic Warfare System
AN/SLQ-25 Nixie Torpedo Countermeasures
Mark 36 SRBOC Decoy Launching System
AN/SLQ-49 Inflatable Decoys
Armament:
2 x 5 in (127 mm) 54 calibre Mark 45 dual purpose guns
2 x 20 mm Phalanx CIWS Mark 15 guns
1 x 8 cell ASROC launcher (removed)
1 x 8 cell NATO Sea Sparrow Mark 29 missile launcher
2 x quadruple Harpoon missile canisters
2 x Mark 32 triple 12.75 in (324 mm) torpedo tubes (Mk 46 torpedoes)
1 x 61 cell Mk 41 VLS launcher for Tomahawk missiles
Aircraft carried:2 x Sikorsky SH-60 Seahawk LAMPS III helicopters.
WATERS SOUTH OF JAPAN (Sept. 18, 2017) An amphibious
assault vehicle attached to the 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit (31st MEU) launches into the ocean from the stern gate of the amphibious assault ship USS Ashland (LSD 48). Ashland, part of the Bonhomme Richard Expeditionary Strike Group, with
embarked 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit, is operating in the Indo-Asia- Pacific region to enhance interoperability with partners and serve as a ready-response force for any type of contingency.(U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist
1st Class Alexandra Seeley/Released)
While Teridax is known for a thousand contingencies, the other Makuta still have plenty of tricks up their sleeves. The Niazesk was designed by Chirox to act as a decoy, using an illusory power to appear as Chirox, before undergoing a horrific "transformation". With virulent poison and an electrifying touch, it is a powerful foe, and even has a telepathic connection to Chirox so he can continue to speak and taunt through the Niazesk's mouth. The Niazesk remains in stasis, ready to be released if the need arises.
In a certain sense, Adam's sin was a sin arising from inquisitiveness, if such an expression be admissible. Originally, Adam saw contingencies in the aspect of their relationship to God and not as independent entities. Anything that is considered in that relationship is beyond the reach of evil; but the desire to see contingency as it is in itself is a desire to see evil; it is also a desire to see good as something contrary to evil. As a result of this sin of inquisitiveness - Adam wanted to see the "other side" of contingency - Adam himself and the whole world fell into contingency as such; the link with the divine Source was broken and became invisible; the world became suddenly external to Adam, things became opaque and heavy, they became like unintelligible and hostile fragments. This drama is always repeating itself anew, in collective history as well as in the life of individuals.
A meaningless knowledge, a knowledge to which we have no right either by virtue of its nature, or of our capacities, and therefore by virtue of our vocation, is not a knowledge that enriches, but one that impoverishes. Adam had become poor after having acquired knowledge of contingency as such, or of contingency in so far as it limits. We must distrust the fascination which an abyss can exert over us; it is in the nature of cosmic blind-alleys to seduce and to play the vampire; the current of forms does not want us to escape from its hold.
Forms can be snares just as they can be symbols and keys; beauty can chain us to forms, just as it can also be a door opening towards the formless.
Or again, from a slightly different point of view: the sin of Adam consists in effect of having wished to superimpose something on existence, and existence was beatitude; Adam thereby lost this beatitude and was engulfed in the anxious and deceptive turmoil of superfluous things.
Instead of reposing in the immutable purity of Existence, fallen man is drawn into the dance of things that exist, and they, being accidents, are delusive and perishable.
---
Frithjof Schuon
---
Quoted in: The Essential Frithjof Schuon (edited by Seyyed Hossein Nasr)
Pictured is a Commando Helicopter Force Merlin Mk3 helicopter and HMS Scimitar, a Scimitar Class Fast Patrol Boat, conducting reassurance and demonstration of UK sovereignty in British Gibraltar Territorial Waters.
Working from RAF Gibraltar, 2 Merlin Mk3 helicopters from 846 Naval Air Squadron based at Royal Naval Air Station Yeovilton, Somerset were consolidating their contingency deployment capability during Exercise Barbary Commando 16...Image was part of the Royal Navy Photographic Competition 2017 (Peregrine Trophy awards)..Global Operations Award 2017, Highly Commended. Awarded to the best single image that is judged to create the most impact portraying the Royal Navy’s global maritime responsibilities.
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© Crown Copyright 2014
Photographer: PO(Phot) Si Ethell
Image 45162876.jpg from www.defenceimages.mod.uk
This image is available for high resolution download at www.defenceimagery.mod.uk subject to the terms and conditions of the Open Government License at www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/doc/open-government-licence/. Search for image number 45162876.jpg
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==The Gotham Royal Hotel==
The West Balcony: Floor 22
Before either had had a chance to recover from their earlier misunderstanding, Gar and Jenna were joined on the balcony by David Franco, who took little notice of either of them whilst he concluded his phone call. Accompanying him, was Ramsey Rosso, the same bodyguard who had rudely intruded upon the pair's reunion earlier that night.
"Very good, Henry," Franco spoke into his phone. "Wait for me at the rendezvous." He cleared his throat, and tapped Jenna on the shoulder. "That was Henry, Jelly Bean. We should go." His previously smug smile faltered, when he finally noticed Lynns beside her.
'Jelly Bean?' Gar looked over at Jenna, catching her face turning ever so slightly red in embarrassment.
'Who's Henry? Another boyfriend?' Sharpe said to himself, still listening in on them through the comms.
"Who's Henry? Another boyfriend?" Gar repeated without thinking.
The muffled sound of Sharpe face-palming could be heard from the other side of the earpiece.
"Gar!" Jenna scowled reproachfully.
"Sorry," he spluttered. "Bad joke. I'm, uh, not very good at them.
"Apparently not," Franco glared at him suspiciously. "Jelly Bean?" he repeated impatiently. "Something I should know about?"
Jenna shook her head, her anger rising. "He was just sharing work notes, Davey. God! I'll be there in a sec."
"Jelly Bean-" he began.
"Don't call me Jelly Bean."
"Fine." Clearly irritated, Franco held his hands up in the air in defeat, and sauntered off.
'Smooth,' Sharpe whistled
Lobby: Ground Floor
They'd been sitting there for two hours now: Kuttler, was sat by the monitors, Mayo, was finishing off his third Big Belly Burger. So far, nothing. No loud noises, no booby traps, no intruders; just the drunk chattering of party guests on the security cameras, the smacking of Mayo's lips and the clacking of Kuttler's slender fingers on the nearby keyboard.
Bored, and still rather peckish, Mayo rolled his chair over to Kuttler's side, and let out a long yawn. "Still nothing?" he asked.
"The entire building is monitored by this security room. If there's a breach in protocol, we'll know," Kuttler said calmly.
"Kay, cool," Mayo nodded unsurely. "But, say... Mr Polka Dot's with them," he pointed out. "Couldn't he just... Portal them in?"
"The insulin that I spiked him with should keep him incapacitated for a few days, but in the event that it doesn't, we have a contingency. Here, screw this in," Kuttler instructed Mayo. 'Ah, it'll do,' he thought, as he added the finishing touches to the small device.
"You see," he elaborated, "The dots he peels from his costume are one thing, simple nanotechnology: The fireballs, the buzzsaws, the explosives... The ones he summons seemingly from thin air, are another matter entirely: rifts in the skin of reality which he harnesses from that infernal belt of his. Which is why I've cobbled together this old thing:" he stated, presenting Mayo with the finished device: a lightweight, black and grey square of some kind. "Be careful with it, it's not a toy. It's a dimensional neutraliser."
"Bit small isn't it? You really think that'll stop him?" Mayo asked, his scruffy mono-brow furrowing.
"It had better," Kuttler began, hastily changing his attitude upon registering the concern on Mayo's face. "I- Theoretically, yes. I tried out a prototype on The Folded Man some years ago. Imploded the poor man... Luthor, had wanted a contingency in-place in the event that Swift, Shade, ever betrayed us... Didn't quite pan out, these things never do...
This new one is non-lethal, per your friend Brown's specifications. It should simply sever the connection between him and the dimensions he harnesses his portals from. The only problem is, it needs to be directly applied to his costume for the signal to work, which is no small feat. I, am diabetic, and you... really should have diabetes too," he added, casting his eye towards the stack of fast food wrappers.
Mayo kicked the floor glumly. "That's not really fair... I exercise! Sometimes."
"Uhuh." Unmoved by his hurt feelings and feeble protests, Kuttler's attention was drawn elsewhere, as a faint sound pierced the air, like the whistle of the wind on a cold winter morning. "No, it's too soon..." he said under his breath. "Mayo," he whispered to his charge. "You need to get this device to Flannegan. He'll know what to do," he stated, placing the small device into the palm of Mayo's hand.
"Got it," Mayo replied dutifully, tucking it inside one of his mismatched socks. "But what about you-?"
"I'll manage," Kuttler stated, as he opened a drawer beneath his desk, retrieved a syringe and a small torch, and strutted off into the direction of the noise. As he loaded the syringe with insulin, his hand was intercepted by a bony arm.
"Uh uh," a voice responded. "You're not taking me out the same way twice.
"How the hell did you get in here?" Kuttler asked.
"I cycled. How the fuck do you think? I Portaled in. Jesus, and you're meant to be the smart one," the intruder answered with a curled lip, almost offended by the question
"Ah, Krill," Kuttler spoke, pointing his torch at the intruder's face with his free hand. "You're looking well. For someone recovering from an insulin overdose."
The torchlight glinted off the plastic feeding tube around Krill's nose, and he winked back unabashedly. "Oh, all better now, thank you," he gestured with his right hand, tightening his grip on Kuttler's wrist with his left. "I ate a dozen Knickerbocker Glories and a New York cheesecake on the way over here. You would not believe the amount of traffic there is on my commute."
"I agree. I wouldn't," Kuttler remarked.
Distracted, Krill turned to Mayo's abandoned soda, dabbed the straw, and took an obnoxious slurp of the liquid. "So, Pointless," he slurped, taking a note of the discarded food wrappers, "Who else is here?"
"Whatever do you mean?" Kuttler asked aerily.
Seeing through the lie, Krill snapped impatiently. "Now, don't play coy, you diabetic doughboy. No way you ate all this by yourself."
"Must've been the hotel staff," he said blankly.
Impatient, Krill shoved him aside, and marched into the main annex. Kuttler, breathed a sigh of relief: Mayo, was nowhere to be seen. 'He's quicker than I expected,' he thought privately.
Still unconvinced, Krill slapped Kuttler across the face. "If it was the hotel staff's, then how come the soda's still cold, you prick? How come the ice ain't melted?" he spat.
'Abner, what's taking so long?' a voice called into Krill's headset, and the Polka Dot Man reluctantly turned his attention away from the fast food investigation.
"Had a run in with one of your boys that's all," he relaxed.
'Charlie?' the voice asked excitedly.
"Nah: Kuttler, the science nerd. The one I was telling you about."
'Is he going to be a problem?'
Krill smirked as he looked down at Kuttler's stirring body. "Shouldn't think so, no," he replied, as he swung his leg back, and kicked him in the stomach.
~-~
"Boss, the passcodes worked, looks like Krill's contact was true to his word," a henchman spoke. "The building is ours."
"There's a surprise..." Day muttered, as he knelt down beside Kuttler's bloodied figure. "Is he alive?" he inquired.
"Yeah, yeah. I know you have a fetish for these clowns," Krill replied.
Day tutted disapprovingly. "You shouldn't have attacked him."
"He shouldn't have stuck a syringe of insulin in my neck. Lousy git anyhow: all the charm and warmth of a weekday Wetherspoons. What do you want me to do with 'im?"
A thin smile broke across Day's face. "Bring him upstairs. It's high time we introduced ourselves."
North Corridor. Floor 22
Drury put his finger to his temple, and frowned. "That's weird," he noted.
"What?" Gaige asked grumpily.
"Getting some kind of interference from the lobby..." Drury addressed Gaige, before returning to his earpiece. "Ballroom team, this is Drury: We've lost contact with Kuttler. Mayo too. I repeat; the lobby team has been compromised. Make your way over to the east hallway, and we'll work out a plan."
"What about the guests?" Chuck asked. "Shouldn't we notify them-?"
"Not Jules' target," Drury assured him. "Just you lot head on over to the east hall. I'll be there shortly."
The Ballroom: Floor 22
Mid conversation with Manga Khan, Rigger replied "Copy that."
Now with an excuse to escape the mug-based conversation that had, by his estimate, been going on for about half an hour, he looked over towards the emergency exit sign, and started to move towards it. "Ok, that's really interesting," he said agitatedly, barely listening to Manga's lecture.
"See, it is interesting. People think mugs are simple, and they are, but there's so much more to it!" the golden man cackled enthusiastically.
"I tell you what," Rigger said, cutting Manga off, and handing him a small business card. "Here, is my work number. Call that whenever, and we can talk more about those mugs of yours, eh, bud?"
As Rigger walked to the door, his phone started to buzz, and as he glanced over his shoulder, sure enough there was Manga, holding the phone to his ear expectantly.
"Well, um, well not now obviously," Rigger stammered into the receiver.
Sionis Penthouse: Floor 48
"Penthouse team, how can we help?" Reardon asked.
"You can start by getting Sionis somewhere safe," Drury's voice responded. "Is there someplace he can lay low? A place Day wouldn't know about?"
"Wouldn't be much of a mob boss if there wasn't... There's a series of old service tunnels below the building. They come out beneath the south Steel Mill. Reinforced steel, would've survived the quake," Sionis spoke.
"Can you get to it from there?" Drury inquired.
"Sure. There's an opening on the thirteenth floor... the architects were superstitious like that."
"Go," Drury advised.
North Corridor: Floor 22
Tilting his head back to Gaige, Drury smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that; duty calls," he stated, hesitating slightly. "We can talk more later, but just- Look," he paused. If you're planning to start a gang war here, tonight, I really need to know," he pleaded.
"Oh, like you were planning on telling me about Day?" Gaige rolled his eyes. "God, you are a self important ass sometimes..."
"It's part of my charm," Drury joked.
"No, it's pretty fucking tedious actually."
"Just, listen, the Misfits... they're a family to me. Always have been. And, well, right now, they need me. If their safety, is in any way jeopardised because of some revenge scheme, then-"
"No. No, they aren't," Gaige stated, cutting him off. "You have a family," he reminded him. "Three kids that, right now, need their father far more than the Dice Boy or the Hang-Glider ever have. It's time you remembered that. Those weirdos, those friends of yours? They're grown men. Strange, yes. Degenerates, abso-fucking-lutely. But grown men all the same."
Drury paused. "Four kids," he corrected Gaige.
"Squealy girl, emo boy and the pre-schooler. Who am I missing?"
"Simon. Lightning Bug?"
"Ah, the Superhero," Gaige said disdainfully. "See that's what happens when you don't have a father figure in your life... What goes around comes around, I guess," he added regrettably. "Take you, for example, stuck in some pointless war with Ted Carson, who's that for? It's not for your kids. It's not for your Misfits, so don't give me that bullshit; Even if those weirdos were dependant on you, and they're not, it's not their fight. It's not their war. It's yours-"
"Now, you wait a second, I didn't want this-! Any of this!" Drury argued.
"-And for a long time now, you've been treading water, doing the same old crap, in a bitter bloody cycle: You trap him: he escapes, you kill him: he's resurrected- doesn't matter, either way he's back, so he seeks revenge... you have a dick measuring contest...then once you're bored, you kill him again- or bring in someone else who can-"
"That's not fair! Carson struck first. He ran over Gar, he got the cops on my tail, he tried to murder me at Gotham General. If I'd left the Misfits alone, there's no telling what he'd have done. They're safer by my side!"
"Hah. That's not strictly true, is it?" Gaige growled. "I'm sure it was fun, at first. That little Tom and Jerry routine of yours. But then, his daughter got involved: then it was a problem. Cause now- Daddy's out of the picture, and it doesn't look like he's coming back.
And she's young, and grief stricken, so she uses her inheritance, a little from her dad, a little from her mom and her creepy uncle, and she backs the Society.
So what do you do? You go to the League of fucking Assassins, and you ask them for help. So don't- Don't tell me that I wasn't there, that I don't understand your, uh, family feud, cause I do. My daughter died for it, and the Misfits will die for it until you learn to let them, and this fucking war of yours, go. Break the fucking cycle."
Drury stared into Gaige's eyes, the same eyes he'd kept hidden behind a scarf or diving helmet since before they'd met, and he swallowed. "Yes, sir," he said coldly, as he walked down the hallway. Passing him on his way out, was David Franco, looking slightly disheveled, and his ever-present bodyguard. Composing himself, the White Mask approached Gaige and smiled his usual insincere smile.
"Physician, it's time," he celebrated with an unwelcome hug. "Oh; bee-tee-dubs, I caught what you said to that moth loser; some of it, that is. Fucking wild man. Well said, just wish I'd had my phone on me-"
Very suddenly, Gaige grabbed Franco by his collar and flung him against the concrete wall. "That 'moth loser' is the Demon Slayer. Show him some fucking respect."
As Franco attempted to wriggle free of Gaige's iron grip, Rosso moved in to intervene, as large black veins rose to the surface of his skin.
"Not... Now... Ramsay..." Franco gasped, as his skin flushed a deep red.
"You three, stop!" a fourth man interrupted them.
Gaige dropped Franco to the ground, as he turned around.
A group of armed henchmen had blindsided the trio, their machine guns aimed at their chests. "You're coming with us," the leader of the group announced.
Gaige's eyes narrowed, as he examined each of the thugs in turn. "Is that a bobble hat, son?" he raised an amused eyebrow.
==Bathroom: Floor 22==
"Sir is a big boy now, Major, he can wash his hands aaaaaaalllll by himself," Dufus announced proudly.
"I ain't taking that chance," Booker replied agitatedly. "I've seen where you put those oversized sausage fingers when you think no one's looking. Eating boogers... Boogers! This! Was our chance to hit the big leagues!"
"You always say that, Maj," the Mighty Bruce replied tiredly.
"And, Bruce! I'm always right! I can't help it if an army of penguins or the JLI, or an unforeseen, overbearing night school teacher gets in our way sometimes."
"Every time."
Before he had time to think up a retort, Booker was interrupted by some kind of commotion outside. "What was that?" he wondered from a moment, then shrugged. "Meh, someone else can handle it."
The Ballroom: Floor 22
"Woo! Gotta give ol' Black Face this, he knows how to throw a party," Abner Krill declared loudly as Gaige, Franco and Rosso were escorted into the main ballroom, their hands raised above their heads in surrender. The other guests were all huddled together in the center of the room, kept at bay by more of The Calendar Man's armed henchmen.
Day himself, was stood on the stage, a large spherical drum positioned behind him. "Round up the stragglers," he murmured to his closest henchmen. "There's always one or two troublemakers... Lock down the elevators and bring anyone you find to the ballroom." The henchmen, unbeknownst to the crowd, were Joker goons, and each wore matching Christmas jumpers and hats, no doubt per Day's request. "Now, ladies, gentlemen, Misfits... would you all mind staying where you are. Please, draw your attention to the device behind me. Some of you, may have already recognised it, but for those of you not in the know-"
Kuttler, let out a strained cough as one of the henchmen dragged him to the front of the stage.
"Mr Kuttler," Day smiled. "Do you mind explaining to the crowd what this device is?"
"Screw you..." Kuttler spat.
"Come now, Noah. No need for that," Day responded. The closest thug, slammed Kuttler in the face with the butt of their gun. "Let's try that again," Day drawled.
"It's a dispersal device," Kuttler mumbled.
"Louder, please."
"It's a dispersal device. Loosely based on Stagg's Cloudburst, the device that the Society... my Society... used in it's attack on the city two years ago."
"That it is. Don't worry, it's harmless, empty, inactive: Just for show, a visual aide if you like. It's sister device, which is being planted somewhere in this building as we speak, is not. That, is armed with a chemical concoction that you may well be familiar with. Fearless."
In the crowd, Drury reached for his holstered cocoon gun and motioned to Chuck and Gar. 'Fearless,' he mouthed anxiously.
Chuck, put his hand against his breast pocket, reaching not for the holstered gun, but rather the small capsule of medication Kuttler had given him earlier that week. 'A last resort,' he reminded himself, privately dismissing what he considered to be a very dangerous train of thought. 'A last resort only.' He would not stoop to the same underhanded tactics that claimed his boy's life. He couldn't.
"But do not be alarmed," Day continued unimpeded. "Fearless is not a curse. It is my tool, my gift: a liberating baptism, to wash the doubt and anxiety from your minds."
At this, a robotic voice cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, good sir," Manga Khan interrupted. "Excuse me, but if it's a barter you want, a barter you'll get. I will gladly take your primitive little dispersal devices, and in return, you will be placed on the waitlist for my spring fashion line."
"What's that idiot doing?" Drury hissed at Rigger.
"Hell if I know," he replied.
"Well, he's going to get himself killed." Flannegan stated.
Day's brow furrowed, his usual cool demeanor shattered. "I don't- What is this? What-? Did someone- Did someone bring a robot here?" he asked Manga.
"That, is Lord Manga," Krill explained. "Think QVC in space. Do you still do those 'I'm with Stupid' shirts?" he asked.
Manga, gestured to his robotic aide. "That 'robot' is L-Ron, my servant, secretary and lackey, thank you very much. And yes, I do."
"I do wish you wouldn't call me that, M'Lord," the stubby robot at Lord Manga's side stated.
"What's wrong with 'secretary?' It's a vital and well respected position in any given organisat-"
With a toss of one of Krill's buzzsaw-like dots, Manga's head was sliced cleanly sliced off its' shoulders, as it clattered to the ground, its' body following soon after. A cloud of pink mist rose from the armour and floated out through the open window.
"I can always get the shirt off Amazon," Krill justified his decision.
Day nodded, shaken slightly by the encounter. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to leave you in the more than capable hands of my henchmen. I, have a grievance to air with your host. Abner!" he clicked his tongue.
"Minute. Want to see if they've got any of those mini eclairs."
With Day distracted, Drury and company tuned into their communication devices.
"Can anyone hear me? Mr Moth? It's Mayo. We're in something of a pickle here. Krill's here, took The Calculator, I think. Maybe."
"Gee, where were you ten
minutes ago..." Gar mumbled.
"Under a desk," Mayo said nonchalantly.
"Mitch, Mr Moth was dad's name. Call me, Drury, please," Drury reprimanded him.
"Forget about that, Dru. Mayo, you're free?" Chuck stammered.
"Yeah! Listen, I'll come to you!" he said confidently.
"No, wait, don't," Drury hissed.
...
"Please don't."
But the plea fell on deaf ears: For now, the fate of every man, woman and Misfit in the Gotham Royal rested in the greasy hands of the Condiment King.
Orthodox Jew
& the
Arab contingency
Both protesting the state of Israel
@
Israel Day Parade
ManHatTan
Photography’s new conscience
Mission from the Halo Reach Campaign.
Whoever can spot the trans - clear knife gets a walnut.
I kind of rushed in adding some things like tiliing but I wanted to upload this before I go somewhere
===Before===
“In other news, Arkham City’s Stryker Task Force made ten more arrests this morning. The controversial private contractors, headed by Priscilla Stryker, have been under fire for their increasingly heavy-handed methods-”
Jervis Tetch let out a high-pitched giggle, taking a loud slurp of Earl Grey tea, his favourite.
Placing the cup and saucer back down, he finished setting the table; placing several tiered stands onto the patchwork tablecloth; a selection of homemade scones, cakes and cucumber sandwiches placed atop each one. He wrapped his gnarled fingernails around the remote control and turned off the wall-mounted TV. Then, he stuck his pinkie fingers in his mouth and whistled at his two guests.
The man, dressed in a white suit and jacket, rolled his eyes, and walked forward, his arm around the woman’s waist.
As they approached the table, Tetch greeted them with a poem.
“The White Mask and The Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
If this were only cleared away,’
They said, it would be grand!’
If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the White Mask said,
That they could get it clear?’
I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.”
“That’s enough, little man,” Franco scowled. “Sionis wants his next shipment moved pronto. That Arkham strike force is already coming down on us, hard, as is. The boss can’t risk them stumbling on these warehouses.”
Tetch chuckled dismissively, pouring himself a fresh cup of tea. “Silly silly, Franco. He’s caught in such a daze. Little does the madman know, he’s but a passing craze.”
At this, Franco grabbed the teapot mid-pour, allowing Tetch’s cup of Earl Grey to overflow into the saucer. “I said, midget-” he began.
“I heard you sir. I heard your pleas, I heard you loud and clear. But don’t you fret my bossy friend, our time is drawing near.”
Franco relaxed, relinquishing his grip on the teapot. “Sure. Whatever you say, freak. Sooner this partnership’s at an end, the better.”
“Quite so, Mr Franco. Now there I do agree. For Wonderland is calling me, and there I’ll promptly flee.”
Suddenly, the double doors swung open and a pale man in a red shirt and blue waistcoat entered the room.
“Mr White,” Franco spluttered. It was rare that any of the bosses graced him with their presence, let alone The Great White Shark. Before he could welcome him with a patronising remark, White interrupted him:
“Those Stryker pigs nabbed the boss. They’re taking him to Arkham with the other freaks.”
The room was silent at first, save for the trickling sounds of Tetch returning the excess tea from his saucer back into the teapot.
“What does this mean for... this?” Franco asked at last.
White shrugged dispassionately. “Nada. Squat. We knew this was gonna happen, and we’ve got contingencies for it. The boss may be stuck in there, but so are our competitors. That means we can push our product, without Penguin or Dent’s interference. ‘Least on this side of the bars,” White smirked, running his tongue across his pointed teeth.
“Competitors? I thought Penguin was into arms dealing. You really think he’s going to muscle in on our racket?”
“I don’t know,” White admitted. “But Cobblepot has that Scarecrow freak working on something; a chemical, a drug, that’s the rumour. Either way, our operation remains the same. There’s a factory on the inside, production’s a non-issue; the boss has that quilted quack running things, keeping the other junkies in line. It’s distribution that’s a problem. We need to keep a low profile. Don’t want the strike force, or worse, the Bat, disrupting our supply chain. We’ve got the Terrible Trio on call for the moment, but those furries are hardly low-key…” he trailed off, taking note of the woman at Franco’s side, recognising her as The Carpenter.
“You, the girlfriend,” he clicked his tongue, pointing a pale finger at Jenna.
“That’s not necessary, man-” Franco interjected.
White ignored him. “You do a lot of commission work, don’t you? That kind of “Pimp my Ride,” interior decorator type-shit? You got anyone on the old rolodex that you reckon could help us out?
“I dunno,” Jenna shrugged. “Most of my clients aren’t exactly low-profile.”
“Oh, I can imagine, I’ve seen your portfolio. That giant typewriter of Nygma’s? Brilliant,” White chuckled. “Still, you got an Invisible Man or Woman on there? Someone incognito, but not Incognito, because, well, he’s dead.” A shot in the dark.
“I might actually,” Jenna spoke. “You ever hear about Lloyd Ventrix?”
==The Iceberg Lounge==
Cobblepot greeted Sionis at the entrance to the lounge. Warren White stood beside them, picking a scab at the base of his elbow distractedly. “Ah, Roman, you made it, excellent!” Cobblepot addressed him, holding his arms out wide to hug the newest arrival. Black Mask rejected the hug, seeing through the Mayor’s obvious attempts to patronise him.
“Where is he?” Sionis asked grimly, his eyes drawn to the umbrella in Cobblepot’s hand, aware of the hidden firing mechanism within.
“Please, sit. We have a superb selection of wines this evening,” Cobblepot said dismissively, waving a flipper in the direction of the seating area. “Our catch of the day is red snapper, and we had a shipment of Atlantic scallops delivered this morning-”
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t be staying long.” Sionis growled, as he nudged past Cobblepot and pushed the door open.
Gaige was sitting in the center of the room, his feet rested up on the table, a glass of red wine by his side. Gone was the muted blue business suit he had worn as The Physician, instead he sported a bright tiger-skin jacket and an accompanying red headscarf. There was one other occupant in the room, sat hidden at the bar.
Sionis drew his gun and aimed it at Gaige’s forehead. “The ‘Physician,’” he inhaled. “How stupid do you think I am?”
Gaige cocked his head to one side. “Do you want a rounded estimate?”
The Great White grinned at the joke appreciatively, then reached into his own holster. “You made a mistake coming here,” he informed the Tiger Shark.
“Oh, no mistake, Warren.” Gaige swirled the red liquid around in his glass and licked the glass’ rim with his forked tongue. “A secret brother,” he addressed Sionis, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “Is that why you thought daddy didn’t love you?”
Sionis’ gun stayed raised. White used his free hand to muffle his laughter.
“Roman, Warren, hear the man out,” Cobblepot defended Gaige. “I think you will find what he has to say very… illuminating.”
“Illuminating,” Sionis repeated, as he slid into the chair opposite Gaige’s. “This’ll be good.”
Gaige took a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie and made a rare rumble of approval. “Did you really think that I would settle for being Franco’s right hand? Do you know what he uses it for? As it turns out,” Gaige smirked, “Our beloved Mayor is actually rather comfortable with his new position. And the last thing he wants is a... change of management.”
“Franco and Ferris,” Sionis presumed.
Gaige nodded. "I admit, I was happy to play along, at first; Franco for all his faults, did get me out of prison, and I won’t deny that I was tempted to get revenge on you... But then... Well, let’s say that my situation has changed somewhat."
Sionis and White exchanged puzzled looks.
“You see, recently, I was given a responsibility. Four, actually: Children, of various ages, genders and, ah, sizes. And I intend to give them the best life I can give them. I owe it to them. I owe it to their father. And I owe it to my daughter.”
“Cute.”
Gaige smirked. "I’m not asking for much,” he explained. “I’d like my turf back. Dixon Docks. Port Adams. Oh, and of course whatever territory you offered Ferris to get him back to Gotham.”
“And if I refuse-?” Sionis’ eyes glinted.
“Well, you won’t, because that would be incredibly short-sighted of you. Not to mention fucking stupid. Two of your lieutenants just tried to stage a coup, how many of their soldiers do you think they recruited? You really think you'll survive another gang war?"
"Do you?"
"I wouldn't bet against me.” Gaige snapped his fingers, and the scruffy man at the bar rose from the stool, an old oil lamp in his hand. Ratcatcher.
Penguin, shot his umbrella in the air. “Enough; you always were children, the lot of you... We can keep sacrificing guns and manpower bickering among ourselves in another bitter power struggle if that’s what you want. But it doesn’t matter who wears the crown so long as there’s a city of so-called vigilantes outside these windows. We’ve lost sight of things- we can divide the city among ourselves, yes, but we can’t do anything whilst there’s still a bat infestation.”
“Eh, but a gang war sounds more fun,” Sionis spoke, as his skull-like features formed a smile.
Just then, there was a light, polite chapping on the door, and a pale man entered the room.
“What the blazes is it now, Ogilvy?” Penguin snapped.
“Sorry sirs,” the man apologised. “But you wanted to be kept in the loop about Franco.”
==Sionis Warehouse: South Gotham==
Roman Sionis had several warehouses scattered around Gotham City, each one serving as a front for The False Face Society's illegal activities. His headquarters, the north steel mill, was destroyed during the Arkham City earthquake. The east warehouse was burned down by The Black Spider six years ago. This one, located in South Gotham, was once used as the mob's armoury: housing several crates full of guns and ammunition.
Franco was aiming a rifle out of the window: He was wearing a Kevlar vest over his lilac shirt, having discarded the tie and jacket. His Ivory mask was resting on the opened rifle case. As he peered down the scope, he frowned. A man was walking towards them, their hands raised in the air in surrender. Their face was illuminated by a small lamp wrapped around their hatband. The light bounced off the man’s black-rimmed glasses, but their silhouette was unmistakable.
Franco lowered the gun. "That's not Lynns."
~-~
Franco escorted Li into the main loading bay, his rifle aimed at his back. As they came to a halt, Li raised his arms out in front of him, allowing Franco to search his person without any resistance.
“Who else is here?” Franco asked, retrieving a small pistol from Li’s tweed jacket with his free hand, and emptying the chamber’s contents onto the warehouse floor.
“Just me,” Li replied, as Franco flicked through his leather-bound notebook, trying to figure out how much he knew.
Ferris stepped into the light. He wore a Kevlar vest, same as Franco, and held a .12 Gauge shotgun in one hand. “Would you relax?” he scolded Franco, slapping him across the back. “Go keep a look-out for that chopper. I got this.”
“But-”
“Go,” Ferris repeated, holding the gun up by the stock.
Franco looked like he was going to argue, but obliged, sulking as he climbed up the ladder and returned to his look-out post in the rafters. Ferris looked over his shoulder, his beady eyes trained on Franco.
“How long have you been working against Roman?” Li asked.
Ferris turned his head back, indulging Bookworm. “Roman? He's Roman now, is he? Since before he ‘kindly’ lifted my exile... Since I saw his true face. Franco’s young and easy to mould; he’ll follow anyone who’ll get him on top. All I had to do was wait until he forced Sionis’ hand. The blood tests were smart, Tiger Shark’s idea, I guess. His kind are crafty, I’ll give them that much...
To his credit, it worked. Sionis, worried about a young rival to his throne, was all too eager to lift my exile and bring me home.”
“Is that why you gave Calendar Man the security codes to the building?” Li inquired.
“Hah. Well, aren’t you the little detective?” Ferris chuckled.
~-~
Joey Rigger opened the metal hatch, poking his head out from under the floor. The passage exit was unguarded, which meant that, true to his word, Li was keeping the mobsters distracted. Good. He climbed up onto the loading dock, followed by Needham, the pair making sure to close the hatch behind them.
"Jenna?" Joey called out. "Jenna? You here?" he asked again, taking a cautious step forward. Behind him, Needham stood stiff as a board; his eyes fixed on Ferris. Joey peered around the corner, noting the foreman’s office on the first floor, a single lamp illuminating Jenna’s handcuffed silhouette. She was alive, thank God. As he turned back, Joey’s relieved smile turned to a frown: Needham was gone.
"Eric?"
~-~
Li straightened his glasses. “There’s still something I don’t quite understand. Why move against Ro- Mr Sionis in the first place?”
Ferris scoffed. “The same reason daddy tried to kick him out of the company. Because I know all about his dirty secret. You. People like you. See, I read those files, I read all about Moxxom, and what Sionis asked him to do to get him reinstated. Trust me, that enabler got what was coming to him. It’s about the only thing Calendar Man got right.
Let’s get one thing straight: I’m no, heh, Francophile, but the mob needs a new leader. A strong leader. And maybe that’s not Franco. But it sure as hell isn’t the Black Mask. I, for one, refuse to take orders from a soft-hearted poof.”
“No one has ever accused Mr Sionis of being soft-hearted,” Li noted.
“No one knew he liked to take it up the ass neither.”
Li took a step forward. “And the East End? What happened there? You wouldn’t have known about Mr Sionis then, surely.”
Needham watched them from the shadows, his jaw clenched, his hand balled-up into a fist. Beneath his bridle, Ferris smirked, thinking back to that time with the same sense of nostalgia as someone reminiscing about their favourite holiday. He was proud of his twisted achievement, and he recounted his confession to Li with a disturbed sense of pride.
“Oh, so you read up on that too, huh? Suppose you would… Nah, that was just a bit of fun. Oh, don’t give me that look! They were degenerates! Junkies! No one was going to miss them! If we got Black Spider, that’d be great! And if we didn’t? Well, we still killed a few dozen darkies.”
~-~
As Franco played with the scope of his rifle, he paused. He heard something: the faint sound of an engine overhead. “Is that the chopper?” he pondered, sticking his head out of the open window: No such luck.
“Hey, Davey,” a man answered him, their voice had a metallic reverb to it, an effect of the yellow and red insect-like mask they wore.
Garfield Lynns was hovering above Franco, dressed in a suit of black and grey armour; metal wings on either side of him kept him airborne, their turbines spitting out clouds of grey smoke. Firefly was here, and he was armed.
“Found my suitcase,” he announced.
Franco eyed the large flamethrower in Lynns’ hand; a bright orange glow was emanating from the barrel, and it was glowing brighter still. Franco’s eyes widened as he realised what was coming next.
“Oh shit!”
Franco instinctively threw himself from the railing, as a massive fireball shot out from the gun, scalding his arms and cheek. Landing on the ground, he reached out towards the ivory mask which had landed on the ground beside him. He turned back to Gar and slid the mask onto his face as though he were challenging him. The fireball and Franco’s resultant fall caught the other party’s attention: Ferris spun his head around to see what was happening; only to be met by Eric Needham, a pistol in his hand. Li covered his head with his arms to protect himself and without hesitation, Needham pulled the trigger; a bullet whizzed through the air and struck Ferris in the forehead.
Ferris fell to the floor; his metal helmet struck the ground with a loud clang, and his shotgun slid across the floor out of reach. Franco looked at Ferris, then at Needham, like a rabbit caught in a car’s headlights, his wide eyes poking out from behind his skull-like mask. He took a fervent glance at Lynns, still hovering above him, and ducked around the corner. Gar’s jetpack buzzed, and he shot off in pursuit of the White Mask.
Still holding his gun, Needham stepped forwards, standing over Ferris’ unmoving figure. He turned to Li; a dissatisfied grimace hidden behind his own mask. “Walk away,” he said coldly.
Li nodded obediently, retrieving his notebook from the crate Franco had left it on. Suddenly, a hand latched onto Needham’s ankle, tripping him over. Needham stumbled backwards, but using his arms to catch himself, he avoided hitting the ground.
“Once a junkie, always a junkie,” his attacker called out, cracking his bruised knuckles. Henry Ferris was back on his feet, with little more than a dent in his helmet.
Making the first move, Ferris rushed forward, headbutting Needham twice in quick succession. In the third attempt, Needham leapt over him, and smashed his head against a pillar instead. The section of stone pillar he struck crumbled under the impact, and a crack formed in his iron mask. Ferris let out a frustrated yell, throwing Needham off him. The next thing he did, was recover his shotgun, and aim it at Needham’s head. Before he could fire however, a voice called to him from the walkway above them.
“Yo, Iron-Hat!” Joey waved at the mobster, goading him. “Hamilton.”
Though hidden behind his mask, Ferris’ cheeks grew red with anger, and he fired off several rounds from his shotgun. Joey smirked, ducking behind the handrail. “The Wiz!”
With Ferris momentarily distracted, Needham was able to dispatch him with a sweeping kick. He webbed the firearm out of Ferris’ hand, and broke the gun over his knee, saluting at Joey gratefully.
~-~
Franco ducked behind a stack of crates, his phone propped between his head and shoulder “Where the hell is that chopper, LaMonica?” he snapped.
“ETA two minutes, boss,” Johnny LaMonica’s easy-going voice answered.
“Yeah?” Franco scoffed. He was trying to slide a magazine into his handgun (The grip of which was adorned with ivory, much like his mask), but his sweaty palms had made the task more difficult than he had anticipated. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” he complained.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” Gar replied. As he spoke, his wings tucked themselves into the side of his backpack, lowering him to the ground.
Franco fired his gun at Lynns to stall him, emptying the clip, and then he took off again, heading out through the side door.
“New plan,” he spoke into his phone. “I’m not gonna make it to the roof, land in the parking lot. The one overlooking the bay.”
Bit tight, no, ese?” LaMonica queried.
“Just do it!”
The door was blown off its hinges, as Gar tore through it. Franco reloaded his gun, but this time, Gar shot out a jet of fire at it, overheating it. The gun shot out of Franco’s hand and landed several meters behind him.
“You knew,” Gar spoke disdainfully. “You knew Day would be there. You sent Carson, knowing he would kill anyone who stood between him and Drury. And you… You brought her anyway.”
“And you weren’t even supposed to be there! We would’ve got out without a hitch, and Romy would’ve been dead if you and your misfits hadn’t got involved. So don’t… don’t play the victim card,” Franco scoffed. “There wasn’t anyone in that building that got hurt and didn’t deserve it. Every guest, every guard, villains. All of us. Her included.”
“So? I know she worked for Tetch. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t. You’re a serial arsonist after all, ‘Firefly.’” Franco sneered. “I mean, didn’t you once incinerate an orphanage?”
“My orphanage,” Lynns clarified. “And it was abandoned.”
“Aside from a few drifters, right? There’s always a couple, you know!” Franco laughed. “Come on, man! What do you have that I don’t?”
“A flamethrower,” Gar said slyly, turning a dial on his weapon.
“I can buy a flamethrower!” he laughed back.
“I can buy a toupee, watch yourself, asshole,” Gar retorted.
Their conversation was cut short: The arrival of Franco’s helicopter was heralded by the rhythm of the chopper’s twin rotors. In the pilot seats were a pair of thugs unfamiliar to Gar but known to Joey and Eric as Harlan Combs and Johnny LaMonica, two crooks who took-over their gear and mantles for a cheap thrill. LaMonica cackled, as he pressed a button on the dashboard, two guns emerged from flaps at either side of the helicopter.
“Oops…” Franco shrugged mockingly. “Sorry, Lynns, looks like my ride’s here.”
“Sorry, ‘Davey.’ But you’re not getting on that chopper.”
~-~
Joey entered the foreman’s office, a cramped room with a damp floor, a stack of old pizza boxes strewn across the desk, a toolbox on the leftmost shelf, and a system of rusted pipes lined along the back wall. Jenna was handcuffed to one such pipe. As she noticed the winged silhouette at the other end of the darkened room, her heart started to beat faster. That feeling, was almost immediately replaced with one of confusion when it became clear who her rescuer was.
“Joey?” Jenna stammered incredulously; her brow furrowed.
“Jenna! We’re getting you out of here,” Joey smiled reassuringly, scanning the room for the key, or at least a lock pick.
“Wait, where’s Gar?” she asked.
“He’s fine, he went after Franco,” Joey informed her.
Their eyes were drawn to the window outside, where it looked like Gar was being pursued by a helicopter the size of a small bus. Joey, turned to Jenna apologetically.
-“I should probably make sure he’s alright.”
-“You should probably make sure he’s alright.”
“Yeah,” Joey nodded. “I’ll… be right back,” he agreed.
“You- You could still uncuff me.,” Jenna sighed, her nostrils flaring.
~-~
Joey shot into action, flying around the side of the black helicopter, twin shooters on his wrists. Combs rose from the co-pilot’s position; his Firebug outfit was noticeably heavier than Joey’s was, possibly to overcompensate for his visual impairments. LaMonica didn’t seem to mind. Since he’d taken a knife to one eye, and a plastic spork to the other, Combs’ effectiveness in the field had decreased dramatically, even with a patch-up courtesy of the illusive Crime Doctor. Taking to the skies, Combs fired a massive blast of napalm in Joey’s direction: Joey rolled to one side, the flames barely singeing the side of his leg. Joey flew higher into the air, in an attempt to bait Combs away from the helicopter. Oblivious to Joey’s intentions, Combs followed after him, continuing their private dogfight.
“You’re nothing, Rigger. Just an undisciplined idiot!” Combs bellowed.
With Combs distracted, Gar flew behind the helicopter, striking the back rotor of the helicopter with one of Drury’s cocoon capsules, gumming up the machinery. A trail of black smoke billowed from the helicopter, with the flames eventually making their way through the fuselage. LaMonica, attempted to bail the doomed ride, firing a black web from his gauntlet. An inferior compound to Needham’s, the web caught fire and the imposter Spider plummeted onto the tarmac road below, where Li was waiting for him.
LaMonica peeled the mask off his face, and sighed. “Listen, man, I didn’t wanna be here, but I didn’t have a choice. I mean, Franco got me out of prison, I had to pay him back, that’s just common courtesy, you know? Surely, we can work something out, right? You dig?”
Emotionlessly, Li reached above his head and lifted his hat: taped to the inside, was a second pistol. He spun the chamber and aimed it at LaMonica’s head.
“Yeah. I ‘dig.’”
Pilotless, the helicopter spun out of control. The rear rotor caught itself across the exterior of the warehouse, tearing through the corrugated metal and windowpanes. On the ground, Franco ducked for cover. Inside the office, a red toolbox crashed to the ground, its contents spilling out by Jenna’s feet. “Jackpot,” she remarked. Looking on either side to ensure no one was watching, Jenna shimmied her body down the pipe until she reached the ground. Still handcuffed, she used her feet to grip the screwdriver, and bring it to her hands. She pushed the screwdriver down into the lock, breaking it open, and rubbed her wrists.
~-~
Momentarily distracted, Combs turned his head back. His mistake. His mouth hung open, but his body had frozen. Petrified in mid-air, he didn't think to manoeuvre out of the way of the helicopter's out of control rotors. The only thing he could do, was hurl one last insult Joey's way.
"Rigger, you son of a who-"
He didn't finish. The helicopter blade had cleaved him in two. His jetpack propelled his body forwards, not stopping until it struck a nearby billboard: An insurance ad of all things.
A quiet splash several yards away denoted the position of Combs' head. It had landed in the harbour. The helicopter’s fuselage rolled through the air and crashed into the side of the warehouse.
Gar and Joey regrouped, approaching the downed helicopter: In the confusion, Franco had escaped, but Gar knew exactly where he was heading.
~-~
Although most of the technology in the facility was outdated, there was one piece of machinery that was still operational: a large, red hydraulic press.
Ferris reached into his jacket lining and slid a pair of brass knuckles over his hands. His punch tore into Needham’s cheek, ripping off a mix of skin and bloodied fabric. With all the strength he had left, Needham grabbed Ferris from behind and slammed his head into the hydraulic press, his skull sandwiched between the ram and base of the device. He webbed the lever, and the device hummed into life. Ferris let out a scream as the pistols started to pump and the ram pushed down onto his iron mask. He swung his arms back and forth wildly, trying to grasp Needham’s clothing. An unpleasant scraping of metal-on-metal echoed through the warehouse, and at last, there was loud crunch. Ferris’ wolf-like faceplate clattered to the ground. He slid free from the machinery and slid onto the floor.
“I… appreciate the face-lift,” he remarked. For the first time in six years, Henry Ferris ran his hands across his exposed face, chuckling. But he couldn’t revel in his freedom for long. Needham grabbed him by the shoulder and rammed the blonde man against the wall.
"Well, what do you know..." Ferris rasped. "You have gone soft."
"No. No, I just want to look into your eyes as I kill you," Needham gritted his teeth, his hold on Ferris tightening. "Why?” he asked. “Dozens dead. My child, my woman dead. Just to draw me out? Just to get a crack at me? I deserve to know why.” He grabbed his knife and pressed it tightly against Ferris' throat. Small droplets of blood trickled down, as the blade broke the skin.
Ferris rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure. Just to get a crack at you.”
Needham released his grip, his eyes widening.
“Look at yourself. You tell me why,” Ferris grunted, his limp body sliding against the wall. “Shame about your pretty, fair-skinned girlfriend... Kaff kaff But she should’ve known better. Dating one a’ youse? Could only end one way.”
“Her body...” he coughed feebly, “Her body was poisoned long before the drugs took her life.”
Needham's fist tightened around the knife, and then he sighed. He’d been down this road before, those men in the False Face Society, The Monarch of Menace… And he thought about what that had cost him. And about how far he had come since that Iceberg Summit. Beneath his mask, Henry Ferris was just a man. A pathetic, disgusting mess of a man, yes. But a man, nonetheless. And no man was worth throwing away all the progress he had made. Not even Ferris.
‘No.’ Needham vowed, dropping his knife as a sign of protest, and turning his back on him.
“Hah,” Ferris chuckled at Needham’s perceived weakness, and reached for the abandoned knife. “Stupid n-”
The knife, clattered to the ground with a pathetic “clang.”
Needham looked back: Ferris was on his feet, clutching his throat with one hand, gurgling blood. Between his bloody fingers was a silver blade, protruding from his neck. For a few seconds, Ferris remained upright, swaying from side to side, and then he joined the knife on the ground. For several more minutes, Ferris spasmed on the floor, coughing, spluttering, wheezing; blood dripped from either side of his mouth, painting his face with a scarlet scowl. And with a final gasp, he rolled onto his stomach, dead, face-down in a pool of his own blood.
With the toe of his shoe, Needham kicked Ferris’ body onto its’ back and knelt beside it. It was only upon closer inspection that he realised the projectile was not a throwing knife, but instead the broken end of a katana. He looked up to see where it had been thrown from and made eye contact with Joey Rigger, stood at the other side of the warehouse. He was holding his mask in one hand, his face pale. His other hand was held above his head, which was where it had stayed since he threw the katana moments before.
~-~
The office door swung open, as Franco staggered inside. He looked at the scattered tools along the ground, then at Jenna, and rushed forwards. She struck first.
Franco recoiled, as she plunged a pair of rusty pliers into his collarbone. He dug the tools out, and placed his hand against the wound. “Bitch!” he yelled instinctively, slapping her across the face, knocking her to the ground.
Gar burst through the window above them, flames spitting from the end of his flamethrower. Franco, grabbed Jenna’s arm and dragged her onto the walkway. The warehouse was burning; the crash had caused some damage, yes, but much of the destruction was caused by the Firefly. Behind his mask, Gar’s pupils dilated, and as the flames danced around him, he cackled, blasting a jet of fire at Franco.
Jenna, was hit by one of the flames, marking her right arm. Gar’s lip twitched, the manic expression faded from his face as he dropped the flamethrower and flew over to her side. A large red mark ran down her right arm. She winced as he ran his finger over it.
“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” he apologised. “I shouldn’t- I couldn’t-“
Drury’s words echoed in Jenna’s head: ”Garfield Lynns, at his best, is a fiercely loyal, brave, gentle man. At his worst, he’s Firefly. And Firefly could burn us all down. If you can live with that, cool- good luck, hope you’ve got a lot of concealer. But if you can’t, you better let him down easy, or hell mend you. He doesn’t need protection. Never has.”
“It’s ok,” she nodded. “I’m ok.”
Gar nodded back. “Jenna, listen, I know he is, was, your boyfriend-”
“It doesn’t matter,” she spoke. “He’s bloody barmy.”
Franco attacked from behind, wrapping a chain around Gar's throat, and pulling him back. Gar broke free, so Franco lifted the chain above his head, spinning it like a cowboy with a lasso. The metal chain struck Gar's helmet, cracking the red lens, exposing his grey iris. Franco threw the chain again; striking Gar's back; the jetpack was damaged. Gar let out a guttural scream, and tackled Franco off the railing, the two of them landing on the warehouse floor below. As Jenna ran down the stairs after them, her eyes were drawn to a large sledgehammer, propped against the wall. As she lifted the sledgehammer, her knees buckled slightly under the weight, her body shaking as she levelled the hammer. Franco rose to his feet first, followed by Gar. He stepped back towards the hydraulic press, tripping over Ferris’ metal faceplate. Incensed, he grabbed the knife and swung it towards Lynns. Gar backed away, getting a nick across his torso. As Franco swung at him again, Gar ducked. He slashed the wires instead and jumped back, choking as oil splashed across his mask.
Gar lunged forward and punched Franco. His Mask's jaw was dislocated by the impact, hanging loose like a particularly gormless skeleton. Franco clicked the ivory jaw back into place and jabbed the knife forwards, stabbing Gar in the gut. Gar, toppled over.
"For years I worked for Richard Sionis!” Franco bellowed, waving the knife in Gar’s face. “Years! I came from nothing, I had nothing! But I worked hard, did everything he asked, and he damn well knew it! I was going to rule Gotham! He had the paperwork; he was going to hand over Janus; everything was just like it should've been! Then Romy murdered him. His wife too. Made his debut as the Black Mask shortly after and burned any and all documents relating to his old man's wishes. Kept me around as a pity case, but he never respected me. Every Sionis billboard, every Janus ad, those should've been mine!"
Before he could finish Gar off, Jenna swung the hammer forward. As it contacted Franco’s knee, a sickening crunch filled the air as his kneecap fractured. Franco let out a high-pitched scream, as his leg went limp.
“You wanna be Roman Sionis?” Gar panted. “Fine by me!” he yelled, as he kicked Franco into the flames. Franco howled as the flames swallowed him, as his ivory mask burned and fused to his skin, but he wasn’t finished: Franco emerged from the flames; his head on fire; resembling a ghostly rider. Jenna swung the hammer again, striking Franco's skull; his head cracked open; a mix of ivory and bone fragments hit the floor, followed by his body.
The impact killed him instantly.
Jenna's face wobbled, tears fell down her face, and she dropped the sledgehammer to the floor. Suddenly, she hugged Gar, burying her face in his chest. Hesitant at first, Gar placed his arms around her back, and held her tight.
457th Files Activated…
/./ Searching Query “Bakura, CT-1194”
/./ Matches Found
/./ Three Months after Contingency Order 37 Issued
/./ Activating Dispatch by Col. C/S-2888 “Firebolt”
/./
/./ “Voice log No. 201119. Five Months into siege of Bakura.
/./
/./ “Bakura has gone to hell. Our 457th blockade left with the assault on Kessel and our forces were stretched thin. Rancor squad and I remained behind, along with fifteen battalions of forces freshly cloned, the 713th corps. The 713th was sent to battle the remaining CIS presence in the area as well as the growing deep Outer Rim revolts, including the one located here on Bakura. About one month after the issue of Contingency Order 37, CC-5038 reported that Rocc had been killed. Rancor squad was told to stay at Bakura anyway, and I was left as the main commander of Republic forces on Bakura. Soon, however, Rocc popped back up again. The fight was being taken to us now, as Rocc quickly found out how green these new troopers really are. Finally, after several weeks of sneak attacks and ambushes on supply chains, Rocc launched a disemboweling blow. He attacked my personal headquarters, a communications outpost about 200 clicks south of Solis D’aar.
/./
/./ “Rocc killed Clay. Clay thought he could take Rocc, but his Durasteel shield was ripped apart by Rocc’s plasma coil launcher. Angered, Koga jumped from the rooftop to kill Rocc, while Blaine and I stayed behind on the roof. We watched as Koga was killed by Rocc, and the rest of our troops were wiped out as well. Rocc and his men did not see us as we snuck out off the roof, and we escaped on a landspeeder. I underestimated Rocc. He killed half my squad. Because of it. I vow that he will not survive the next time we meet…
/./
/./ End Transmission
__________________________________________________________________________
Well, there you go, there’s my long-awaited continuation of Rocc’s story. Please excuse me for adding you (if you have been added), I just wanted to make sure that people see this. I don’t think many people have really been in the practice of checking my stream too often anymore, considering my inactivity. If you want, go ahead and remove yourself. Please let me know how I did (and remember this is only the second real vig I’ve built in ten months).
Also, today is my birthday! I’m turning 18, so I guess that means I’m an AFOL now!
In the waning days of the Clone Wars, a secret contingency order known as “Order 66” was initiated by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine (Darth Sidious), commanding all clone commanders of the GAR (Grand Army of the Republic) to use lethal force and execute their jedi generals with no hesitation. This would be the start of what eventually would be known as “The Great Jedi Purge.”
Deep in the thick, of the jungles of Kashyyyk, Quinlan Vos sits perched in a tree, in hiding, as his clone pursuers led by Clone Commander Faie are tracking his whereabouts. After a failed attempt to kill the jedi, the moment order 66 was initiated. Eventually Faie had tracked down Vos and threatened to call in an air strike on himself, Vos and the neighbouring Wookie village. Vos then realized that he could not run and hide. His destiny was to defeat Faie and protect the innocent wookies. Vos then readied himself as Faie approached and jumped from his perch, with his lightsaber in hand. Hoping to ambush the clone commander….
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This MOC is my entry into BXCustoms "Order 66 Contest" I sadly do not own issue #83 or any Star Wars: Republic series comics by Dark Horse Comics. So this scene was created using information I was able to gather and my own input.
As always feedback appreciated! :)
The sun rises prior to the departure of deploying Airmen Sept. 8, 2015, at Little Rock Air Force Base, Ark. The Airmen departed in support of contingency operations in the Horn of Africa. (U.S. Air Force photo by Senior Airman Harry Brexel)
the Master's TARDIS was lost while he fled the timewar and hid as Yana, but at some point soon after taking him onboard, the Doctor went back and found it, but it was apparently dead.
the Doctor hid the dead TARDIS somewhere inside their TARDIS and hoped the Master would never see it because (1) if it woke up, he might leave and (2) if it stayed dead, that would make him sad and desperate...
but he found it, and sometimes he hides in there, thinking about what his life has become now, trying to make contingency plans.
sometimes he talks to it as if it could still hear him. sometimes he screams and hits the walls, sometimes he cries quietly. sometimes he thinks he feels this silent broken thing starting to come alive, but it's always a false alarm... so far.
(thanks to Kat for part of the ideas...)
Astronaut Janet L. Kavandi, STS-91 mission specialist, participates in an underwater simulation of a contingency space walk during a training session at the Johnson Space Center (JSC). Kavandi, wearing a training version of the extravehicular mobility unit (EMU) space suit, weighted so as to achieve a neutrally buoyant state in the deep pool of JSC's Neutral Buoyancy Laboratory (NBL), was joined by astronaut Franklin R. Chang-Diaz (out of frame) in the simulation. The NBL is part of JSC's Sonny Carter Training Center, first used by assigned astronauts in 1997.
Credit: NASA
Image Number: S98-03945
Date: March 17, 1998
Pictured is Dog and its handler from 102 Military Working Dogs Sqn taking part in a live fire exercise on the Sennelager Ranges in Germany.
102 Military Working Dogs (MWD) Squadron are part of 1st Military Working Dog Regiment...The LFTT training not only allows the soldiers to undertake their contingency readiness requirement, but also allows the dogs of the squadron to undertake enhanced battle induction, simulating some of the possible stresses of battle that they could encounter on current or future operations. ..Live firing and movement around the battlefield provides a demanding environment to hone the soldier’s skills, not just for combat but as a dog handler also. ..For the Military Dogs, the experience of live firing and explosions reduces their tendency to be scared by the sounds of weapons firing and explosions allowing them to become calm and controlled in stressful situations...The 1st Military Working Dog Regiment’s mission is to deliver Military Working Dog and Veterinary capability in support of Field Army outputs...Delivering a wide range of Military Working Dog capabilities, the Regiment plays a pivotal role in supporting a number of key activities including; counter insurgency operations, the detection of Improvised Explosive Devices, assistance in the searching of routes, buildings and vehicles, enhancing security and patrolling key installations.
The 1st Military Working Dog Regiment consists of three Regular and two Reserve Military Working Dog Squadrons, comprising 299 Regular soldiers and officers with the ability to surge to a maximum capacity of 384 Military Working Dogs.
-------------------------------------------------------
© Crown Copyright 2014
Photographer: Mr Dominic King
Image 45160270.jpg from www.defenceimages.mod.uk
This image is available for high resolution download at www.defenceimagery.mod.uk subject to the terms and conditions of the Open Government License at www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/doc/open-government-licence/. Search for image number 45160270.jpg
For latest news visit www.gov.uk/government/organisations/ministry-of-defence
Follow us:
In the waning days of the Clone Wars, a secret contingency order known as “Order 66” was initiated by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine (Darth Sidious), commanding all clone commanders of the GAR (Grand Army of the Republic) to use lethal force and execute their jedi generals with no hesitation. This would be the start of what eventually would be known as “The Great Jedi Purge.”
Deep in the thick, of the jungles of Kashyyyk, Quinlan Vos sits perched in a tree, in hiding, as his clone pursuers led by Clone Commander Faie are tracking his whereabouts. After a failed attempt to kill the jedi, the moment order 66 was initiated. Eventually Faie had tracked down Vos and threatened to call in an air strike on himself, Vos and the neighbouring Wookie village. Vos then realized that he could not run and hide. His destiny was to defeat Faie and protect the innocent wookies. Vos then readied himself as Faie approached and jumped from his perch, with his lightsaber in hand. Hoping to ambush the clone commander….
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This MOC is my entry into BXCustoms "Order 66 Contest" I sadly do not own issue #83 or any Star Wars: Republic series comics by Dark Horse Comics. So this scene was created using information I was able to gather and my own input.
As always feedback appreciated! :)
PHILIPPINE SEA (April 12, 2018) The guided-missile destroyer USS Dewey (DDG 105) receives fuel from the amphibious assault ship USS Wasp (LHD 1) during a fueling-at-sea (FAS). Wasp and its expeditionary strike group (ESG) are operating in the Indo-Pacific region to enhance interoperability with partners, serve as a ready-response force for any type of contingency and advance the up-gunned ESG concept. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Taylor King/Released)
In the waning days of the Clone Wars, a secret contingency order known as “Order 66” was initiated by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine (Darth Sidious), commanding all clone commanders of the GAR (Grand Army of the Republic) to use lethal force and execute their jedi generals with no hesitation. This would be the start of what eventually would be known as “The Great Jedi Purge.”
Deep in the thick, of the jungles of Kashyyyk, Quinlan Vos sits perched in a tree, in hiding, as his clone pursuers led by Clone Commander Faie are tracking his whereabouts. After a failed attempt to kill the jedi, the moment order 66 was initiated. Eventually Faie had tracked down Vos and threatened to call in an air strike on himself, Vos and the neighbouring Wookie village. Vos then realized that he could not run and hide. His destiny was to defeat Faie and protect the innocent wookies. Vos then readied himself as Faie approached and jumped from his perch, with his lightsaber in hand. Hoping to ambush the clone commander….
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This MOC is my entry into BXCustoms "Order 66 Contest" I sadly do not own issue #83 or any Star Wars: Republic series comics by Dark Horse Comics. So this scene was created using information I was able to gather and my own input.
As always feedback appreciated! :)
surfeit fly hovers near flower. The fly disguises itself as a bee for evolutionary contingencies................
Original photo processed with Photoshop CS2 .......for effect.
"very cute bee with very brave temper" - Olyia Dehaven www.flickr.com/photos/50181507@N08/
Well said , Olyia !!!!!!!!!!!!!
For and from the rhizom-E-xquisite
Lines are made up of points.
Points have no extension in Space...
---
Las lineas estan hechas de puntos.
Los puntos carecen de extension en el Espacio...
Entonces, Donde esta la Linea?
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿
The boundaries between being and not being there or here are nebulous...
... maybe they are a way to feel the space-within us as the space-around us.
--------
Los limites entre estar y no estar alla o aqui son nebulosos....
... tal vez son una manera de sentir al espacio-de-dentro como el espacio-de-alrededor.
??????????
Pretty girls promote various businesses.
Street crowd shows up in large numbers for the parade of race cars the day before the race.
San Felipe 250 [Baja, Mexico]
Contingency Row - Friday, Feb. 26, 2016
“APOLLO 11 TRAINING----Suited Astronaut Neil A. Armstrong, wearing an Extravehicular Mobility Unit, participates in lunar surface simulation training on April 18, 1969, in Building 9, Manned Spacecraft Center. Armstrong is the prime crew commander of the Apollo 11 lunar landing mission. Here, he simulates scooping up a lunar surface sample.”
More specifically, Neil is practicing taking a contingency sample. Note also the footpad of the Lunar Module mockup at far left.
“The Contingency Soil Sampler was a device which allowed the astronauts to quickly take a soil sample soon after they stepped onto the lunar surface. The sample was taken to the Lunar Module and stored for ascent to insure that some lunar soil would be returned to Earth even in the event of an emergency that forced early termination of the mission.”
Above at/from, with close-up images:
airandspace.si.edu/collection-objects/soil-sampler-contin...
airandspace.si.edu/collection-objects/soil-sampler-contin...
Both above credit: Smithsonian NASM website
Fascinating:
www.hq.nasa.gov/alsj/a11/a11ContingencySample.html
Credit: ALSJ website
The real thing. Amazing. Note also that Neil does not assume such a dynamic, “lunging” stance, possibly due to the stiffness of his pressurized suit:
www.facebook.com/Apollo-Lunar-Surface-Journal-14660030541...
Credit: Apollo Lunar Surface Journal/YouTube
Credit: Linda Hall Library/Vimeo
Last & definitely least:
www.hq.nasa.gov/alsj/tools/tools08.jpg
Although the site contains excellent & obscure material, to refer to Neil Armstrong as the “space-suited person” is pathetic…it’s a NASA website. A tradition like no other.
Airmen from the 321st Contingency Response Wing from Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst, N.J., try to attach a sling load to a Mississippi Army National Guard medical evacuation UH-60 Black Hawk at Camp Shelby Joint Forces Training Center, Miss., during exercise Turbo Distribution Oct. 29, 2015. The U.S. Transportation Command exercise tested the Joint Task Force-Port Opening's ability to deliver and distribute cargo during humanitarian relief operations. (U.S. Air Force photo/Staff Sgt. Marianique Santos)
A Challenger 2 main battle tank (MBT) is pictured during a live firing exercise in Grafenwöhr, Germany.
Exercise BAVARIAN CHARGER was the first of three large contingency operation exercises being undertaken by 20th Armoured Brigade between May – October 2013. Contingency Operations training is known as Hybrid Foundation Training or HFT.
The aim of this exercise was to train the 5 Rifles, The Queens Dragoon Guards (QDG) Battle Groups and 1 Logistic Support Regiment in combined arms manoeuvre.
-------------------------------------------------------
© Crown Copyright 2013
Photographer: Cpl Wes Calder RLC
Image 45155718.jpg from www.defenceimages.mod.uk
This image is available for high resolution download at www.defenceimagery.mod.uk subject to the terms and conditions of the Open Government License at www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/doc/open-government-licence/. Search for image number 45155718.jpg
For latest news visit www.gov.uk/government/organisations/ministry-of-defence
Follow us:
457th files activated...
/./ Searching Query “Bakura, CT-1194”
/./ Matches Found
/./ Four and a half Months after Contingency Order 37 Issued
/./ Activating Dispatch by Col. C/S-2888 “Firebolt”
/./
/./ “Voice log No. 201120. Six Months into siege of Bakura.
/./
/./ "I have lost. At least for now. Rocc and his pitiful band of resistance fighters finally found a way to break into Solis D'aar and trash our command center- by using the droids. The CIS retains a sizable presence on the planet, one that cannot be ignored. By us, anyway. The resistance fighters have not joined with the droids, but have allowed them to thin out our forces. Allowed us to fight them and bring both of our numbers down. The droids managed to break into Solis D'aar, which is under lockdown and martial law, and the resistance fighters came in a few hours after them. Fighting filled the streets of the capitol as our forces were tired by the droids and defeated by the fighters.
/./
/./ "Our forces were pushed back into our most fortified section of the city, and finally, into or final bastion, the tallest tower in the city, with a makeshift hangar perched at its top. The droids poured into the building while the resistance fighters (and Rocc) seemed to disappear. This was not for long, though. Our defenses did not hold and the droids climbed the tower as troops evacuated through gunships. Finally my turn, in the last gunship. Droids broke through and Blaine was separated from the gunship. Shots flew as he fought off the surge of droids. But then, suddenly, a window shattered- Rocc came flying through on a zipline, along with one of the resistance heads and a few troops. They took up defensive positions behind boxes and tables and took out both droids and clones. Blaine recognized Rocc and went after him, nearly able to end his miserable life, but was killed by the resistance leader. Files indicated his name as Scot Overbesh, present at many of the main resistance skirmishes. Blaine was gone and I was all on my own. Rocc saw me as my gunship flew away, leaving our other troops to die. They were dispensible. But my squad wasn't... yet they were the first to go. But Rocc will die. He will, if it is the last thing I do, I will ensure it."
/./
/./ End Transmission
_______________________________
Took me quite a while, didn't it? lol. Enjoy. Oh, and I do realize that the half-gunship is awful.
Like the previous installment, I've added builders who I think will want to see this.
Pictured is a member of 34 Squadron RAF Regiment armed with an SA80, undertaking Live Firing Tactical Training at the Otterburn Training Area.
This training formed part of the Contingency Operating Training for the Joint Expeditionary Force.
With a strength of 164 personnel, including specialist engineering and support staff, the Squadron’s firepower is provided by a wide range of infantry weapons including sniper rifles, general purpose machine guns and light and medium mortars.
Fully air portable, the Squadron’s cross-country mobility is provided by a variety of off road platforms battlefield communications systems and a highly effective range of surveillance and night observation equipment which help complete 34 Squadron’s inventory to make it a flexible and powerful force capable of deploying anywhere in the world to defend British air assets or to take part in wider military action.
-------------------------------------------------------
© Crown Copyright 2014
Photographer: SAC Phil Dye
Image 45159220.jpg from www.defenceimages.mod.uk
Use of this image is subject to the terms and conditions of the MoD News Licence at www.defenceimagery.mod.uk/fotoweb/20121001_Crown_copyrigh...
For latest news visit www.gov.uk/government/organisations/ministry-of-defence
Follow us:
// A small squad of trained PMC Operatives invade a factory that is said to be controlled by a Russian drug lord named "Reznov". The factory is in the middle of nowhere where it's freezing cold and snowstorms rush in constantly. A fellow PMC Operative busts in to a room and takes out a Soldier. "What are Russian soldiers doing here?" Says Connors. He then checks the perimeter, It's clear. The 5-Man squad rushes into the room but alert. They sprint through the aisles of the facility and breach the door. They look through the smashed wall and see Hundreds of workers in sections what looks like nuclear mortar of some sort. "This is Capt. Ryan! We need emergency back up, Immediately!" "Copy that, This is Sarg. Nicks. We're sending a Chopper to your location. //
Hey Guys,
Just a little story and MOC I've been making today with a Bricklink order I had. IF FAVE PLEASE COMMENT. Inspired by CoD: Black Ops.
~Nicco
Pictured is amember of 34 Squadron, The Royal Air Force Regiment based at RAF Leeming, undertaking Live Firing Tactical Training at the Otterburn Training Area.
Kneeling with the LMG.
This training formed part of the Contingency Operating Training for the Joint Expeditionary Force.
With a strength of 164 personnel, including specialist engineering and support staff, the Squadron’s firepower is provided by a wide range of infantry weapons including sniper rifles, general purpose machine guns and light and medium mortars.
Fully air portable, the Squadron’s cross-country mobility is provided by a variety of off road platforms battlefield communications systems and a highly effective range of surveillance and night observation equipment which help complete 34 Squadron’s inventory to make it a flexible and powerful force capable of deploying anywhere in the world to defend British air assets or to take part in wider military action.
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As I activate the Endgame contingency programme in the Batcomputer, both Alfred and I hear the familiar noise of the clock entrance beginning to open at the top of the staircase. Without saying a thing, I quickly place my cowl over my head and grab a beatarang from my belt. Alfred races to grab one of his own contingencies hidden beneath Jason’s memorial. A high calibre shotgun. Can’t say that I approve, nor can I be certain that Jason wouldn’t be offended by Alfred’s choice of hiding place, but not everyone can rely on carrying an arsenal with them around their waist. Sometimes we just have to make do.
After ten seconds, the noise culminates in a loud bang that echoes throughout the cave indicating the closure of the door by whoever it is that just entered. Given how little I know of what Ra’s has planned or how he intends to implement his plan, it’s only logical to assume that he’d send forces here to cripple the equipment which would provide me an opportunity to oppose him. But given how they’d no doubt be aware of their fallen comrades and that I’m well versed in their own methods of infiltration, you’d imagine the smarter course of action would be a more direct form of assault. After all, that’s what would catch me most by surprised. Especially given how dependent I am on my own training under Ra’s. Given how that’s well over a decade old at this point, it’s also likely to be severely outdated at this point. So if anything, a direct assault here would be to their advantage.
Thankfully, it’s the opposite of an assault.
TD: Bruce!? Alfred!?
AP: Master Timothy!?
BW: Tim, is that you?
Why’d he take the house entrance? The cave’s security systems would have granted him access through the vehicle entrance, for all I know the League’s agents may be watching the house at this very moment and Tim may well have compromised the cave in the process.
As Tim races down the stairs towards the Batcomputer’s platform, I turn back to activate the house’s proximity sensors. In my rush to treat Talia and ensure the safety of our allies I unintentionally let my guard down. We’re fortunate this time at least that it was only Tim. Had it been the League’s agents, both Alfred and I would have been caught unprepared, and if there’s anything I’ve learnt from ten years in Gotham. It’s that those who are unprepared, are all but guaranteed failure.
TD: It’s me, you won’t believe what’s happened.
BW: You were confronted by one of the League’s agents and managed to best him in single combat.
My knowledge on what has transpired during Tim’s time at the Gotham county fair appears to catch him off guard for a moment. But he’s quick to figure how I know about his confrontation with the assailant.
TD:…..Jim?
AP: Indeed.
Alfred makes it up to the Batcomputer just as Tim reaches the platform having raced down the cave staircase.
TD: Do you have any word on how Steph’s holding up?
BW: She’s in surgery. Jim’s there now but I’ve sent someone to relieve him. He’s needed at the GCPD to help organise the evacuation.
TD: Evacuation? Has it started?
AP: To the best of our knowledge, no.
BW: But we can’t afford to take that risk. I’ve dispatched the Batwing to Bludhaven to pick up Dick and Barbra. Whatever Ra’s has planned will be big, we’ll need everyone we can muster.
Another long drawn out pause from both Tim and Alfred. Usually that’s a sign that they’re attempting to weigh up the odds of our success and/or whether we’ll need help. It’s rare for either of them engage in such a consideration….well, it’s uncommon for Tim. Alfred goes through this with almost every case that goes beyond a single night. But for Tim to be considering such things indicates only one thing. He’s about to ask….
TD: Are you gonna ask them for help?
Just as I thought. Ultimately, I will no doubt need to request their help. But I currently have more pressing matters to attend to before I even think about making the call.
BW:…..No. Not until I’m certain we need them.
AP: Bruce you cannot be serious, This is too big for just us. You need to call them.
TG: He’s right, beloved. You’re capable of many things but you’re not Superman.
AP: No matter how much you try otherwise.
To this day, I’m still not sure where Alfred’s belief that I believe myself just as capable of everything as Clark is stems from. No doubt it’ll be due to how willing I am to accompany the others in the League on missions that are well above simple Gotham street crime, but at the end of the day we’re a team. We stand together, we fall together. Whether we like it or not.
As I debate with myself over making the call to them, Talia finally manages to make it up to our platform still clutching her recently stitched wound.
I can’t help but notice the momentarily puzzled expression on Tim’s face having never laid eyes on Talia before. It’s interesting to observe, as you can see the thoughts run through his mind. His first is shock at another individual in the cave and fears of a possible compromise. Then he processes the information and realises that the lack of panicked response from both Alfred and myself imply some amount of trust in this individual, thus causing him to lower his immediate concern.
BW:…..I know. But right now I don’t have the time to waste. Talia, you know your father’s ways. What’s his strategy?
TD: You’re Talia?
A smirk comes over Talia’s face as she realises how little Tim knows of her, much to my own concern. No doubt she’s already considering if I’m embarrassed by having her in the cave or by my actions prior to becoming Batman. The reality of it is actually disappointing. The only reason I’ve not shared more information on Talia or even shown Tim a picture of her is simply because he was never really concerned with learning more about her.
TG: Yes. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Drake. I’ve admired your skills from afar for quite some time.
TD: Oh?
BW: Talia’s the cult leader you’ve been tracking for the last week.
TD: Wait. What? That was you?
TG: I needed to get his attention some way, it’s not like I could just walk up to you and say hello now could I? Especially not with you all being watched.
AP: We’re being watched?
TG: The house is. Down here, we’re safe.
I can’t help but feel sceptical of that last claim. Especially if they were able to spot Tim entering the cave through the clock’s entrance.
AP: How can you be so sure?
BW: This cave is Kryptonian proof. If it can keep Kryptonians out, it can keep Ra’s Al-Ghul’s men out.
That claim may be an exaggeration. It’s lead lined and sound proof to ensure Clark can’t see or listen in on us, but it won’t keep him out. Not unless I line the walls with Kryptonite and thankfully, for the moment at least, a justified reason to attempt such a method hasn’t yet arrived.
AP: Let’s hope so.
BW: Talia. We need to know. What’s your father’s next likely move?
TG: Usually, in preparation for a full out assault. My father will dispatch the elite guard to target key assets that could provide a problem in fulfilling the objective.
TD: Nice to know I’m so important.
AP: I think it’s safe to assume that they’ll have targeted Master Grayson and Miss Gordon.
BW: Try and see if you can get them on any of our other channels.
Alfred walks up to the Batcomputer to access the overwatch loophole installed in all Wayne Tech equipment. I can’t imagine many people would approve of the ethics behind such methods, but in times like these, we can’t afford to consider such trivial matters.
TD: So what happens if this elite guard don’t report in?
TG: Usually, after 24 hours since dispatching the elite guard, my father commences his assault.
BW: So we’ve still got time.
Possibly the best news of the night. Aside from Tim being unharmed of course, more or less. I can't help but notice cuts on both his hands, no doubt caused by the assailant he encountered.
Time is the most versatile weapon of all. Less than 24 hours isn’t ideal, nor is it much, but it gives me a window of opportunity. To prepare counter measures against them, especially having just witnessed their combat techniques.
AP: Master Bruce, I’ve made contact with Master Grayson, sir! He and Miss Gordon are on their way in the batwing!
TD: Thank goodness!
That’s two assets accounted for. But what about the one carrying our silver bullet?
BW: Anything from Jason?
AP: Nothing sir. I’ll keep trying.
Damn it Jason, where are you?
BW: We don’t have time, Alfred. Tell Dick and Barbra to meet us at Wayne Tower. We’ve got to initiate Endgame.
TD: Bruce you can’t be serious!?
BW: We have no choice. West won’t authorise an evacuation without a clear threat. It has to be done. Take Alfred and Talia. Head to the Wayne Tower bunker. We need to be ready.
TD: What about you?
BW: I need to do this. Alone.
After all, it’s my house. It’s only right that I’m the only one that’s forced to carry the burden of what I must do.
TG: No. I’m staying with you.
BW: Talia, it won’t be safe.
TG: It wasn’t safe when we ran from my father either. But that didn’t stop me. Nor will it stop me now. You’re not doing this alone.
For a brief moment or two, I consider trying to talk her out of it. But I know it’s ultimately futile. Her mind is made up, and when it’s made up, there’s no convincing her otherwise. Much to my own discomfort.
BW: Alright. Tim, take Alfred to the bunker. Lucius will be there waiting for you.
I can tell from the expression on his face that Tim wants to say something in the hopes of convincing me against what I’m about to do, but fortunately I notice Alfred shaking his head in the corner of my eye. Signalling to Tim that it’s a losing battle. My mind is made. With that, Tim escorts Alfred down to the Batmobile loading bay as Talia walks up to me slowly, clearly unaware with what’s about to transpire.
TG: Are you alright, beloved?
BW: I don’t know. I really don’t want to do this. But I have no choice. It’s what they would have wanted me to do if they were in my position.
TG: Who’s they, Bruce?
BW: My parents.
With that I turn to face the staircase leading up to the clock entrance that leads from the cave to the house.
BW: Come on. We don’t have much time to waste.
TG: You’re nervous.
BW: Yes. I am.
TG: Why?
BW: Because it's something I never wanted to do. You’re about to find out why.
As Talia and I begin to climb the stairs out of the cave, I can’t help but feel a rush of emotions for what may well be my last time in this cave. Part of me wishes that my final time in the cave would be one of joy, and happiness. Reminiscing on my years in Gotham. I always thought I’d die down here, fighting the war I committed myself to back in Crime Alley all those years ago. But instead, I have to walk a different path.
I’m just sorry that it had to be this path. Hopefully Mother and Father will one day forgive me for what I must do.
END OF VOLUME 4 PROLOGUE
PHUKET, THAILAND (Jan. 24, 2019) The amphibious assault ship USS Essex (LHD 2) sets anchor off the coast of Phuket while on a deployment of the Essex Amphibious Ready Group (ARG) and 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU). The Essex ARG/13th MEU is deployed to the U.S. 7th Fleet area of operations to support regional stability, reassure partners and allies and maintain a presence postured to respond to any crisis ranging from humanitarian assistance to contingency operations. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class William Phillips/Released)