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.

 

-------------------------------------------------------

© 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.

Railfanning is tough in Alaska in December as this image attests. You can gear up for the cold but there is nothing you can do about the light...or lack there of. This is what passes for broad daylight at the north end of the Alaska Railroad less than 200 miles from the Arctic Circle. Here one day before winter solstice the sunrise is at 10:57 AM and sunset is less than four hours later at 2:40 PM! But the weather was extremely and unseasonably mild with temps in the 20s which is shirt sleeve weather in this part of the world more accustmed to temperatures 50 degrees colder this time of year.

 

Here is a short local behind GP38-2 2007 and GP40-2 3007 returning to the Fairbanks yard rolling beside Trainor Gate Road heading south at MP 2.9 on the Eielson Branch. They are just leaving the boundary of Fort Wainwright which they cut through for five miles on their way to North Pole and Eielson as well as to the Airport branch both of which are important and busy sources of traffic. Additionally the base itself is an important customer both for occasional military equipment moves of flat car loads heading to and from deployment and training missions as well as daily deliveries for the base's coal fired steam heating and power plant.

 

Fort Wainwright is a massive facility managing over 1.6 million acres of training and recreation land. The base dates to 1940 when Ladd Army Airfield was first constructed to support cold weather testing and serve as a tactical supply depot. During 1942 over 7900 aircraft were delivered to the Soviets from Ladd flying across the Bering Strait as part of the WWII Lend-Lease program. When US-Soviet tensions rose post war and the Cold War began Alaska's strategic importance skyrocketed and when the US Air Force was created as a separate branch and the base was renamed Ladd Air Force Base. In 1948, the Army sent the 2nd Infantry Division to Ladd AFB with a mission of ground defense. During the Korean War in 1950 and through to 1957 Ladd AFB saw an rise in tempo and an increase in their logistics operations. By 1957, intercontinental ballistic missiles and satellites reduced the role for Ladd AFB. In 1960, with two major airbases in close proximity, coupled with economic pressures, the Air Force stopped flying operations at Ladd and reassigned them to Eielson AFB and to Elmendorf AFB in Anchorage. The Air Force transferred Ladd to the Army on 1 January 1961, and the installation was renamed Fort Wainwright after WWII General, Jonathan Wainwright.

 

Today home to the 1st Stryker Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division. The post is also home to Task Force 49, a brigade-size aviation unit with CH-47 Chinooks, UH-60 Black Hawks and OH-58 Kiowas, as well as support personnel some 7700 soldiers in total. The current mission of the 1-25 SBCT is to deploy rapidly “to a designated contingency area of operation by air and [conduct] operations either as a separate Brigade Combat Team or under the control of a contingency force headquarters.” Equipped with wheeled Stryker armored vehicles, the brigade filled the gap between light forces like the 4/25 BCT (Airborne) and heavy, armored units.

 

Fairbanks, Alaska

Tuesday December 19, 2017

Pictured are personnel from 34 Squadron, The Royal Air Force Regiment based at RAF Leeming, 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 45159231.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

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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)

 

// 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

===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.

PHILIPPINE SEA (April 11, 2018) A Landing Craft Air Cushion (LCAC) assigned to Naval Beach Unit 7 (NBU 7) exits the well deck of the amphibious assault ship USS Wasp (LHD 1). 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 Levingston Lewis/Released)

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

After convincing Roy to call Oliver, we both join the others at the Batcomputer. To our confusion, they all appear horrified by what they’re seeing.

 

Jason: What’s going on?

 

Bruce: Ra's has made his move. A gas attack.

 

I can’t help but notice neither Alfred or Lucius are here. Bruce has probably already got them working on analysing the gas and figuring out a way to neutralise it.

 

Dick: This….this is horrible….

 

Scarlett: Do you think any of the national guard managed to make it to safety?

 

Jason: I don’t know, Scarlett. I really don’t know.

 

I feel Scarlett grab hold of my hand as I give my answer. The reality about just what we’re about to face seems to be hitting home for her.

 

Tim: Do we know just what’s in this gas?

 

Bruce: Alfred and Lucius are still working to analyse the gas and synthesize a neutralising agent.

 

Roy: This isn’t right. What sort of monster gases people without a second thought?

 

Barbra: One who believes himself above all others. A man who thinks it his right to decide who deserves to live, and who deserves to die.

 

Bruce: This cannot be allowed to continue.

 

Dick: What are you suggesting?

 

Bruce: The gas is toxic if inhaled, but the tests that have already been performed show it is unable to corrode a gas mask and rebreather.

 

Tim: You’re saying we go out there and try to shut the towers down ourselves?

 

Bruce: Without a neutralising agent, there is little more we can do than simply prevent the gas from covering all of Gotham at present. We must ensure that the gas is not able to make it towards the GCPD or Gotham General.

 

Scarlett: But what about the soldiers? How do we help them?

 

Bruce doesn’t respond to her question, instead choosing to keep his attention directed solely at the Batcomputer monitor. At first, Scarlett thinks Bruce simply didn’t hear her, but Roy quickly realises what his silence means.

 

Roy: You’re just going to ignore them? Leave them to die?

 

I feel Scarlett let go of my hand as Bruce confirms that Roy’s accusation is in fact what he’s planning to do. It’s not like doing so doesn’t upset him. He always views any life he fails to save as blood on his hands. But being the very reason for why all of this chaos has come to Gotham, Dick, Tim and I know just how much he’s probably tearing himself apart on the inside.

 

Bruce: They’ll all die anyway if we don’t stop this gas from covering all of Gotham.

 

Scarlett: They’re innocent in all this! This whole attack is only happening because of you! We have to save them!

 

Jason: Scarlett…

 

Bruce: We have to prioritise. Say we’re successful, say we save what? Ten of them? How do you then justify saving ten of them and dooming the hundred or so police officers in the GCPD to death? How do you justify to Barbra that her father died needlessly because you chose saving one man over an entire city? How do you justify to Tim that his friend died in Gotham General because you let your emotions overrule your head?

 

Roy: Ollie would try to save them.

 

Bruce: I’m no Oliver Queen.

 

Roy: That’s for sure.

 

Dick: Thank goodness.

 

Dick’s attempt to diffuse the situation goes down poorly. It was a worthwhile attempt, but with tensions so high now really isn’t the time to try and make jokes at someone else's expense.

 

Bruce: Given that the towers cover all four corners of Gotham, we’ll have to divide our forces in order to neutralise them simultaneously.

 

Barbra: So we split up into teams? Who goes with who?

 

Bruce: Barbra, you and Dick take the east tower.

 

Dick: The one closest to GCPD?

 

Barbra: We’re on it.

 

Bruce: Jason, you and the Outlaws will take the southern tower.

 

Jason: Roger.

 

Bruce is sending three of us to handle one tower? That seems like an odd choice, especially when the numbers divide evenly to make four teams of two.

 

Roy: Wait, how the hell are we supposed to stop those towers anyways?

 

Bruce: Alfred will be feeding us all live information including the tower’s schematics when we arrive.

 

Dick: Good old Alfred.

 

Tim: So which tower does that leave me with? North or west?

 

Bruce: You and Talia will take the western tower.

 

Tim: Talia?

 

Bruce is sending Talia with Tim rather than with himself? In some ways that’s comforting, knowing that Tim won’t be going after a tower on his own, but why send Talia with him when he’s sending three of us to deal with the southern tower.

 

Bruce: She’s a skilled combatant. We’d be foolish not to make use of her help.

 

Tim: Then why’s she going with me and not you?

 

Bruce: I need someone I can trust to keep an eye on her.

 

Tim: You don’t trust yourself?

 

Bruce: Not unless it’s necessary.

 

Talia: He’s always been like that, I’m afraid.

 

Dick: You don’t need to tell any of us that, we’ve had to live with it.

 

Against my better judgement, I can’t help to ask why Bruce thinks it’s better to have uneven teams.

 

Jason: Wait, it doesn’t make sense that three of us are going to the southern tower but you’re going alone to the northern tower. Doesn’t it make more sense for Roy to go with Tim and Talia go with you?

 

Bruce: I’ll be fine. I have the sword.

 

Scarlett: What sword?

 

Tim: You know how every member in the League has a chemical in their body that gives them an unnatural healing factor? He's got a magical sword that neutralises it.

 

Dick: Then why haven’t you tried giving all of us one of those swords!?

 

Bruce: Because I had to do a deal with Hephaestus, and he would only forge me one blade.

 

Roy: That’s why you had us retrieve that stuff from Greene’s mansion.

 

Bruce: That was only intended as a contingency for this very scenario. The blade was the product of desperation.

 

Barbra: What did you have to promise him in return for it?

 

Bruce: Far too much.

 

Before any of us can ask for more detail on just what he had to promise, an alert comes up on the Batcomputer. The gas is beginning to spread deeper into Gotham.

 

Bruce: Suit up.

————————————

Thirty Minutes Later...

 

Given how the southern tower is built in the middle of the slums, it doesn’t take the three of us long to make it there. According to Alfred, we were the first team to make it to our tower which was rather surprising. Then again, the northern tower is in the direction of Wayne Manor…..or what remains of Wayne Manor that is. So Bruce will have less rooftops to help him traverse the city. He could always make use of the Batmobile or Batwing, but without knowing the effects this gas might have on either of them, he doesn’t want to risk having them taken out of commission. If what’s happened so far is anything to go by, we’ll be needing them.

 

Scarlett: I can’t believe he turned his back on them.

 

I walk up to Scarlett to see her looking down the scope of her rifle at a pair of dead bodies in front of the tower. It’s difficult to be sure from this distance, but they look like military. From Scarlett’s comment they’re no doubt national guard.

 

Red Hood: There was nothing he could do, Scarlett.

 

Scarlett: Of course there was something he could have done. There’s always something that can be done.

 

Arsenal: Save your anger. You’re directing it at the wrong person. Even if he is an asshole, the person who actually deserves that anger is the monster who’s leading the attack against the city.

 

Scarlett: In order to get back at him....

 

Arsenal: Do you have a problem, Scarlett?

 

Scarlett: I’m not the one who doesn't care that innocent people were killed because of this crusade against us. Against him.

 

Red Hood: You seriously think he doesn’t care?

 

Scarlett: Not if what I’ve seen so far is anything to go by.

 

Red Hood: Then you don’t understand anything. You might be upset to see those men on the street dead, but imagine how Bruce feels about this. He feels guilty if he’s not able to save the life of someone who was put in danger by something that wasn’t his doing. Imagine what he must be feeling about all this, knowing Ra’s is only doing it to get to him.

 

Scarlett: Then why doesn’t he just run? Lead them away from here and keep them as far away from Gotham as possible.

 

Arsenal: She’s got a point.

 

Red Hood: You don’t know Ra’s Al-Ghul. Neither of you do. You don’t know what’s he’s capable of. What he’s prepared to do. He only brought me back from the dead to use as a weapon against Bruce, and what did I do? I blew up a clock tower, I almost killed Tim and Alfred and I killed dozens of people just to try and hurt him. That was only after a couple of months with Ra’s, that's all it took for him to make me into a weapon

 

Scarlett: But you weren’t truly yourself. It was the Lazarus clouding your judgement.

 

Red Hood: Oh I knew what I was doing, and the worst part? I enjoyed it. When I went back to Nanda Parbat after we'd killed Black Mask, and told Ra’s just what I’d done? He was proud. He was proud. That’s why Bruce isn’t running. He knows Ra’s. He knows that this won’t stop with just him.

 

Arsenal: That’s why he went after the others yesterday. He wants to destroy everything Bruce cares about.

 

Red Hood: Ra’s already took his parents from him. Now he wants to take everything else. His city. His family. He's already taken his home indirectly. That’s why he’s choosing to fight. Not for himself. But to protect the others. To protect us.

 

Scarlett:…I’m…..sorry…..I didn’t mean…..

 

Red Hood: I know, Scarlett. I know.

 

Before any of us can say something else, Alfred radios in.

 

Alfred: Pen-7 to all strike teams. Mission is a go!

 

Red Hood: This South team, beginning insertion.

 

The three of us quickly make our towards the front entrance with our weapons at the ready. Scarlett holsters her rifle and pulls out a small taser pistol of her own whilst Roy removes an arrow from his quiver and rests it in his bow.

 

Red Hood: Roy, cover our flank. Scarlett, with me.

 

Arsenal: Roger.

 

Scarlett: I’ve got your back.

 

As Roy turns away from us to make sure there’s no-one watching us from a distance, Scarlett and I quickly make our way towards the front entrance. The door’s open and the lock's been shattered so clearly the tower has been broken into, most likely by the League’s agents. But what catches both of our attentions is the body laid in front of the door. It’s not wearing any military gear so it doesn’t appear to be another member of the national guard, but most of Gotham has been evacuated. So who is this, and what is their body doing here of all places?

 

Scarlett: Roy we’ve got a body.

 

Arsenal: National guard?

 

Red Hood: Doesn't look like it. There’s clear decomposition, a body killed by the gas would be fresh. This one’s anything but.

 

Scarlett: What’s it doing here anyways?

 

Arsenal: Clearly it’s been planted here for some reason. Probably a warning.

 

Red Hood: But what for, and why?

 

Scarlett: We’re not going to know without identifying the body.

 

Arsenal: Could be a trap.

 

Red Hood: I’ll give it a scan. It seems to be in good enough condition for us to identify it from DNA...

 

Scarlett: I’ll watch the entrance.

 

Arsenal: Keep an eye on the upper levels as well. Probably the perfect place to launch an ambush from.

 

Red Hood: Copy that. I’m moving up.

 

I cautiously approach the body holding a taser pistol in my right hand, trying to figure just why the League would go out of their way to unearth an body. Obviously whoever this person is, they’re important to all this. Well, important to us at least. Rather than risk disturbing the body, I choose to simply take a stray hair that is resting on the body’s chest and scan it using the interface Scarlett installed into my new vambraces.

 

The result that it gives both horrifies and confuses me.

 

Identity: Jason Todd.

 

How is that possible?

 

Red Hood What the hell. What the actual hell.

 

Scarlett: What’s wrong?

 

Arsenal: You know that person?

 

Red Hood: It says it’s…...how is that even possible…..?

 

Scarlett: Jason, who is it?

 

Red Hood: The scanner says it’s me.

 

Arsenal: What? You can’t be serious? Have you got that thing turned on properly?

 

Scarlett: Let me have a look at it.

 

Scarlett walks over to me and scans the hair herself. The look on her face confirms that my scanner is correct.

 

Scarlett: How is that even...

 

Arsenal: Are you sure the scanner’s not faulty? It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had problems with faulty equipment.

 

Both Scarlett and I desperately try to find something to help us identify the body properly. The face has been removed so it’s impossible to discern, and attempts to analyse finger prints come up with the same result.

 

Identity: Jason Todd.

 

Arsenal: What the fuck, man. What the actual fuck. How is this even possible?

 

Red Hood: When the League brought me back to life, they must have kept samples of my DNA. It’s the only possible explanation.

 

Arsenal: Are you sure? First the gas attack and now this, I’m really starting to wonder whether or not cloning is out of the question.

 

Red Hood: Are you serious?

 

Immediately, Roy points his bow at me with an arrow at the ready.

 

Arsenal: We know of aliens that are basically indestructible, can change form on a whim and an 800 year old man who is able to regenerate himself by taking a bath. Don't tell me cloning sounds stupid when this is reality.

 

Red Hood: Roy, what the hell!?

 

Arsenal: Who’s to say you’re not some clone that’s been planted here to spy on us?

 

Scarlett doesn’t step in, no doubt horrified by the prospect that the League has gone out of their way to create a fake dead body of myself.

 

Red Hood: Roy, you idiot it’s obviously a fake!

 

Arsenal: Prove it.

 

Red Hood: Or what? What are you going to do, shoot me with an arrow? Choke me to death with your mechanical arm?

 

Arsenal: Don’t tempt me, Todd. Prove it’s not you.

 

I turn around and begin to inspect the body for any defects. All I need is something small, but it has to be different and it has to be obvious. Whilst I’m occupied trying to deal with Roy in his paranoid state, I look up to see Scarlett clench her fist and check her own taser pistol before running into the tower.

 

Scarlett: Those……monsters…..

 

Red Hood: Scarlett, wait!

 

Arsenal: Scarlett! Damn it. You’d better hurry up and find something, as I’m not letting her go in there on her own.

 

Red Hood: Damn it Roy, this isn’t the time!

 

Arsenal: Then prove me wrong.

 

With no face to prove it’s not me, and the fingerprints suggesting that it is, I need to find something to prove to Roy that it’s a fake. The build is almost a perfect copy of my own and the body’s height is identical. It takes me a minute looking up and down the body before I spot something.

 

Shoe size. I’m a size 10, the shoes on this body look to be a size bigger. A quick look at the shoes confirms

my suspicion. Size 11.

 

Red Hood: Look at the feet. This body is wearing size 11 shoes and I’m a size 10.

 

I remove the shoe on the left foot and place it against my own for comparison. Roy glances down at the exposed foot and realises that there’s no way that foot could into a size 10 shoe.

 

Once he realises his mistake, he quick retracts his bow and places his arrow back in his quiver.

 

Arsenal: Sorry…..I wasn’t thinking straight.

 

Red Hood: Apologise later, we’ve got to find Scarlet!

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!

Uyuni, Bolivia 2005.

“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

 

vimeo.com/321127173

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.

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.

 

NASA Media Usage Guidelines

 

Credit: NASA

Image Number: S98-03945

Date: March 17, 1998

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)

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:

www.twitter.com/defenceimages

 

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! :)

   

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.

 

-------------------------------------------------------

© Crown Copyright 2014

Photographer: SAC Phil Dye

Image 45159219.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:

www.twitter.com/defenceimages

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:

www.twitter.com/defenceimages

Fenchurch Avenue, City Of London

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 !!!!!!!!!!!!!

WEEK 13 – Cordova Super Target Closing, Set VI

 

Last but certainly not least for this photoset, a straight shot of the façade from way out in the parking lot, one I’m particularly proud of :) It helps that the parking lot slopes upward the farther back you go, too, giving me just a bit of an elevation advantage. And I also just always liked this storefront anyway, as I’ve told y’all before!

 

While this is it for my January 2019 visit to this closing Super Target, more will come your way in the future. In fact, I didn’t necessarily want to visit in January at all, but I did so for two reasons: 1) in case I came on the final day in February, only to find out the store had closed early and I missed out; and 2) in case I couldn’t make it on the final day at all. So basically, this was just the contingency tour, haha!

 

Luckily, I was able to make it back here on the final day – and it was still open :P – so I’ve got another huge photoset, about the same size as this one in fact, all ready to upload at some point later this year. Please be sure to watch out for those images. In the meantime, though, I’ll give y’all (and myself!) a breather from this place. NEXT WEEK – more McDonald's…

 

SuperTarget (now closed) // 475 N Germantown Parkway, Cordova, TN 38018

 

(c) 2020 Retail Retell

These places are public so these photos are too, but just as I tell where they came from, I'd appreciate if you'd say who :)

 

32nd Annual [2018] Score San Felipe 250 contingency row.

- San Felipe, Baja - Mexico.

TED: "My 'orse fell an' Nobby an' Ginger's 'orses are still runnin', but Dad got 1st an' 2nd in the Grand National!! So we're off to collect his - I mean OUR - winnins' now!"

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

  

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:

www.facebook.com/defenceimages

www.twitter.com/defenceimages

 

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)

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.

  

the Israeli contingency

Pro Palestine protest

ManHatTan

 

Photography’s new conscience

linktr.ee/GlennLosack

glosack.wixsite.com/tbws

   

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

Promotional freebies handed out.

Racing cars parade.

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

  

bunker in undisclosed location. i’m siding with the bears

With the first strike day by First Aberdeen drivers now over and the next one scheduled for Monday, First Bus management will probably have been fairly pleased with how their contingency plan went.

 

By late afternoon there was a reasonable supply of buses across the network and certainly they were meeting the demand for travel that existed at that point with no overcrowding or obvious complaints for those waiting for buses.

 

That was different from the morning where a number of managers got lost enroute and huge gaps opened up in services as managers were slower in dealing with complicated pass types at stops.

 

However, it was clear that demand for travel had considerably reduced and that word of the strike was clearly out as only those passengers that needed to travel had travelled. A number of "well-kent faces" that normally head into the city centre and reside in coffee shops across the day were missing and retailers reported trade was "very quiet" for a Friday. A number of business reported colleagues has booked holidays for the day. Supermarkets notices an increase in trade on Thursday as shoppers stocked up in advance.

 

Notably an evening peak service that normally carried 30+ passengers left Union Street with just three, despite the reduced frequency.

 

People can choose not to come into the city centre for one day but it becomes more difficult as the strikes increase in frequency. It also shows that when you reduce a frequency you reduce demand for travel rather than just make less buses more full.

 

Where things broke down was at 6pm as passengers realised that buses had finished for the day and it was notable how many people had gone on to the First website and read the “forthcoming changes” page as being the strike timetables. As usual First fell down in detail with repeatedly wrong uploads on strike timetables and vague directions on how to access and direct emails to customers with the wrong version of timetables.

 

38219 is seen here about to enter he depot on having worked a non timetable peak extra 1A.

==Gotham City==

 

Hellhound was not having a good Christmas. As he ran down narrow alleyways and hopped over fences, his blood pumping, scattered thoughts raced through his head: Was it The King, back for seconds? Or just another unsatisfied client? Behind him, as loyal as ever, Cheadle bounced after him, barking excitedly as he crawled under the gaps in the chain fences to remain at his master's side.

 

Cutting the chase short, a strand of red webbing caught the conman's ankle and he tripped face first onto the snow-covered pavement, which did very little to cushion his fall. He rolled onto his back, sighing as his attackers came into view: an eclectic collection of misfits, who were approaching from all sides.

 

He may have been surrounded on all fronts, but he wasn't done yet. He let out a whistle and his rottweiler launched itself at his opponents, with limited effectiveness:

 

“Good boy... Good boy,” Joey Rigger giggled as he dodged Cheadle's slobbery tongue and rubbed the dog's belly with an un-gloved hand.

 

“Cheadle! You treacherous mongrel!” Hellhound snarled as he reluctantly raised his arms in the air in defeat.

 

Otis Flannegan stepped forward and lowered the end of his staff, shining the light from his lantern into the Hellhound's eyes as though conducting an outdoors police interrogation. “They say dogs look like their owners. Didn't hold much stock in it m'self, but I see the resemblance now. You both lack balls,” he teased.

 

Hellhound frowned, looking to the leader of the pack; the Kite-Man, dressed in his full green and yellow livery.

 

“So, King of Cats is back in town,” Chuck began. “I guess you already knew that. We're not going to ask for our money back, though we probably ought to, but we would like some intel.”

 

Hellhound said nothing, but crossed his legs in indignant defiance.

 

Gar glared, a hand on his holstered flamethrower. “Start talking.”

 

The Hellhound gulped, examining the Misfits' uncharacteristically stoic expressions for confirmation of Lynns' intent.

 

“Alright, I'll bite,” he sighed, raising his palms again. “There's a blade, a sword... Rumours were some Japanese girl had it, lost it to the Death Man. But in theory... it can trap the souls of its' victims.”

 

“Woah, with a sword like that, we could put an end to King of Cats for good. No body swaps, no resurrection,” Joey theorised.

 

“If it exists,” Ten frowned, more apprehensive.

 

“I swear, if this is another scam to get you tickets to Fiji-” Chuck warned, not forgetting the last time he took Hellhound at his word.

 

“It's not,” Needham determined. “Least, I don't think it is. Azrael had a blade like that, did some weird spiritual crap to me. I believe the sword exists; we just need to find it.”

 

==The Death Gardens. Japan==

 

Despite their ominous name, The Death Gardens, located in the Hinohara forest, west of Tokyo, couldn't be more alive; a large open area filled by lush green grass, cascading waterfalls and tall cherry trees that dropped pink petals into the clear blue waters below. It was a shame that the Misfits were there on business.

 

In the centre of the clearing, sat a physically imposing, but oddly dressed figure, fitted like a Halloween Skeleton, complete with a flowing black cloak and white thigh-high boots. In his lap, sat the Soul-Taker, the blade Hellhound promised could quell the King of Cats' threat once and for all.

 

The Misifts, this time joined by Blake and Axel, approached the man with trepidation; After all, none of them had seen the Death Man since his short-lived stint among their ranks, and rumours of his increasingly unpredictable nature and a tendency to hold grudges meant they were unsure if he'd even be willing to hand over the key to The King's defeat.

 

Of course, there was also a pretty large language barrier.

 

“Um, hi! Hello! Konnichi wa?” Joey greeted the skeletal man.

 

“That's good, keep going,” Chuck nodded affirmatively.

 

Joey's cheeks reddened. “You want me to keep going-? I watch Animé, my vocabulary doesn't really extend beyond 'mecha.'”

 

The Death Man watched the group; his skull-like mask made it impossible to discern his mood, but Chuck suspected he enjoyed watching the Misfits embarrass themselves. Unprompted, Axel walked over to The Death Man and whispered a Japanese message into one of the hollow openings where his ears ought to be.

 

The Death Man processed the words, then nodded.

 

“What'd you ask him?” Joey pondered.

 

“If he spoke English,” Axel explained, hopping down from the ornate throne. “Duh?”

 

Joey's cheeks turned redder still.

 

“Right...” Chuck sighed. “Mr Death Man-”

 

“LORD Death Man!” the man replied in an surprisingly nasally voice (surprising, due to the lack of a nose).

 

“Lord Death Man,” Chuck began anew, “We have travelled from Gotham City on a desperate mission to rescue one of our own. Though faced with impossible odds, we think your blade might just be the thing to turn the tide.”

 

“Promise we'll return it!” Joey vouched for him.

 

“Nyee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!” The Death Man giggled, leaning back in his throne. “Be still, your prattling tongue! The Death Man has no stake in your plight, mortal fools!”

 

“Screw this,” Blake scoffed, strutting forward defiantly. “You listen, buddy, we're taking that sword whether you give it to us or not,” he declared, marking his point by poking the Death Man's chest.

 

The instant Blake made contact; Lord Death Man dropped to the ground like a stone in water.

 

The Misfits froze for a moment, then cautiously, Ten bent down and placed his ear against the man's ribcage and his hand across his throat. “I don't... There's no pulse,” he gasped.

 

And then, panic:

 

“I- I barely touched him!” Blake shrieked.

 

“I mean, he looked pretty frail.”

 

“He looked like a skeleton!”

 

“That's what I meant.”

 

“Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-”

 

“This is bad, I came to Japan for the hotties, not the rotties!”

 

“Calm down!” Flannegan ordered, clapping his hands together.

 

“That's better. Alright, grab a shovel.”

 

Less willing to accept the Death Man's demise, Gar kicked the body, and with a shriek of pain, the Death Man was sitting upright.

 

“Holy shit,” Blake remarked. “Dude's a possum.”

 

Flannegan grumpily lowered his spade. “As far as superpowers go, heart failure is on the same level as the cock cannon.”

 

===Homosassa Springs. Florida===

 

The group of four Misfits moved the garden gate aside and sighed at the tasteless sight of excessive decadence; though the house was comparatively ramshackle in appearance, the garden was full of large golden statues and finished with a marble fountain that towered above the visitors. Overtaken by curiosity, Sharpe knelt by the chicken coop, and was surprised to find half a dozen squawking pheasants in the place of common hens.

 

This was the place, alright.

 

Chuck rang the doorbell (the sound, was a particularly loud rendition of Beethoven's Für Elise) and waited outside as a long-haired silhouette appeared behind the frosted glass. The door swung open, and a delighted grin appeared on the occupant's face.

 

“Dear me! If it isn't my Merry Misfits looking decidedly unmerry! Charles! Garfield! Thomas! Come in, you ridiculous beard-splitter, how are you?” Mortimer Drake inquired.

 

“Been better,” Blake confessed.

 

“I thought as much! Might I tempt you with a nipperkin, you swill-bellied swine?” he asked, prodding Blake's belly playfully.

 

“'Fraid not.”

 

“Sorry, Morty, we're here on business,” Chuck frowned.

 

“Ah, I see. The jester. I feared it would come to this... That rapscallion was always balmy on the crumpet. Off his chump,” Drake drawled, as he tipped the remaining contents of his bottle of Henri IV Dudognon Heritage Cognac into the bottom of his crystal champagne flute.

 

“There's a novel assessment,” Sharpe exhaled, sitting on the armrest of Drake's French settee.

 

“Montgomery. Yours always was a good voice to beg bacon,” Drake wagged his finger at him dismissively.

 

“Hiya, Drake. How's that 'life of luxury' working out?” Sharpe waved back, quoting the Cavalier's favoured mantra.

 

“'Heard you knocked over a convenience store for some booze,” Gar mentioned, frowning as a hyacinth macaw made itself at home on his shoulder.

 

“You can jolly well go fuck yourself, Garfield,” Drake scowled. “Why do you all have the hump?”

 

“Because Drury's been kidnapped? Because the clown wants him dead?” Gar snapped.

 

Drake dabbed his upper lip with a silk handkerchief. “Bah. Although it's rather too late in your case, Garfield, I would still advise you all to keep your hair on. We will rescue our antiquated rogue compatriot in due course. But firstly, if I were to join your caravan, what would I receive in return?”

 

“Well, we're not doing your fuckin' taxes.”

 

==Coast City==

 

Waves crashed against the boardwalk, rain pelted down onto the pier, but the Misfits moved forwards.

 

“You could have asked McCulloch to drop us a little closer, you know!” Blake lagged behind, as rain drizzled down his brown cowl.

 

“Nah, we're not teleporting into his living room unannounced: this isn't the kinda guy you sneak up on. Isn't much further anyway... see that lighthouse? He's got a cabin nearby,” Gar pointed to a lone light a few hundred yards away.

 

“You're starting to scare me, Gar,” Joey stated cautiously.

 

“Only now? He looks like the kinda guy that stalks kids in their dreams,” Sharpe teased.

 

“That was as hilarious as the first hundred times you made that joke, Chancer!” Gar snapped back.

 

“Gar...”

 

“He's... look, he's a contact of mine. From The Society days. But he's got a few screws loose, ok? So don't upset him.”

 

“I'll be as gentlemanly as ever!” Sharpe blew a kiss at him mockingly.

 

“Yeah, that's what I'm scared of.”

 

“Uh, how loopy we talking about here, Gar?” Joey tapped his shoulder.

 

“'s complicated. He has good days and bad days.”

 

“Ok, ok. So, on a scale of Freeze to Pyg, how bad is he? On average,” Joey pried.

 

“... He's a Two-Face.”

 

“Oh, he's a schizo!” Sharpe concluded.

 

As they reached the cabin, Gar took his phone out of his pocket. “One last thing: Anything metal stays outside. Helmets, belt buckles, guns... Watch our stuff, kid,” he instructed Axel, noting his prosthetic arm, as he unbuckled his grey utility belt and wing harness and pressed the doorbell.

 

There was a chime; then a sound of scrabbling from within; and finally, an unassuming man with tousled brown hair answered the door, dressed in a short-sleeved t-shirt that was far too big for him. “Firefly?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

 

“Neal,” Gar nodded cautiously. “Do you mind if we have a chat?”

 

“No, of course not,” Emerson obliged, “Come in,” he offered, although as Gar passed, a single curse of “Deserter,” escaped his lips, with a voice that wasn't his own.

 

“Sorry, you had your pick of The Society, and you picked fucking 'Neal' before Zod?” an oblivious Sharpe questioned Lynns, as the group invited themselves inside. Given the circumstances, Neal was surprisingly welcoming, even offering to put the kettle on for his guests. As he disappeared into the kitchen, Gar called out to him:

 

“So, do you keep in touch with the old guard at all?”

 

“No,” Neal replied. “But I received an email a few months back from a man claiming to be Phillip Cobb. I assumed it was one of those 'Biaylan prince' scams. You?”

 

“Not really. Most of the guys want me dead,” Gar conceded.

 

“You did ignite the Martian,” Neal reminded him, pouring hot water into a collection of mismatched mugs.

 

“He had it coming,” Gar reprimanded him.

 

“They always do...” Neal muttered softly.

 

Sharpe was bored now, and as he rose from his seat, he pushed the wrong buttons; “Listen, plug boy-”

 

Before he could say anything worse, a metal chain wrapped itself around his throat. The other Neal re-entered the living room, frowning. “You know, I really do detest that name,” he murmured calmly.

 

“Neal! Neal, stop! Emerson, christ, let him go!” Gar protested.

 

“My name, Lynns. Use my name,” the man scowled, his eyes glowing with violet energy. The chain dug into Sharpe's throat, his face turning blue under the strain. Just a little more pressure and his neck would snap.

 

“Polaris... He's not worth it,” Gar begged.

 

“I agree.”

 

With the flick of his wrist, the chain released and Sharpe dropped to the floor, gasping for air. “Now, I understand you have an offer for me?” Polaris cocked his head to one side.

 

“I thought you dudes had hypocritical oaths!” Blake wrapped his arm around Sharpe's back.

 

“Hippocratic,” Kuttler hissed in the corner.

 

“Bro, you're never fucking happy!”

 

==The Cluster. Orbit==

 

Joey and McCulloch landed on the metal floor with a thud. Since the incident with Polaris, Gar had determined that it would be safer and more productive if the Misfits split up; that left Joey on his own to handle perhaps the most important business deal of his life.

 

“Awfy soory about that, pa'. I dinnae tend to use ma mirror gun fer interstellar travel. Fook, ah mean, ah dinnae ken ahve even come out this far before,” McCulloch apologised, rubbing his bruised joints, but Joey wasn’t listening. They had arrived in some sort of observation deck; in front of them was a curved glass window that seemed like it stretched for miles, which was easily over twenty feet tall, and on the other side was Planet Earth.

 

Joey took in the majesty of the blue planet below, his mouth agape. “Woah.”

 

The moment was unfortunately short-lived, as soon a pair of heavily-armed robots hovered towards them, enormous laser guns aimed at the intruders’ heads.

 

“PREPARE TO BE OBLITERATED TRESSPASSERS,” one robot demanded.

 

“Wait!” Joey raised his hands above his head, motioning for McCulloch to keep his mirror gun holstered. “I seek an audience with the Great Manga Khan, Lord of Thanagar, Grand Regent of Krypton, Scourge of Bezos and Vice President of the Gemworld Amusement Parks.”

 

“Are those real titles?” the robot paused, lowering its’ weapons.

 

“They sound real,” the other responded.

 

“How tha fook-”

 

“I'm riffing, play along.”

 

~-~

 

A long walk through a dozen clean hallways later and Joey found himself sat opposite from the golden-clad business mogul. L-Ron, his robotic assistant, held a welder's torch to Lord Manga's neck, repairing the crack Krill had formed at the Royal.

 

“AHH, IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK IN MY FEET AGAIN,” Lord Manga celebrated,

 

“M'lord, you're shouting again.”

 

“BECAUSE I'M EXCITED L-RON!”

 

==Washington DC==

 

“No.”

 

Taken aback, Blake let out an abrasive chuckle. “You're serious?” he frowned. “Pussy.”

 

“You're the one with whiskers,” the other man responded, taking in another puff from his cigarette, his eye still trained on his gun’s targeting scope.

 

“I don't get it, Floyd. All his victims, all their families... Not one of them reached out to you? Not once were you offered a chance to kill him, to do what we've all thought of doing for years, and get paid for it, no less?” Blake asked pacing back and forth around the rooftop, something that was clearly getting on Lawton’s nerves.

 

“They did. Just happened to turn 'em down,” he responded as he readjusted his silver wrist guns.

 

“Why?”

 

Lawton dabbed the butt of his cigarette, taking a step back from the gun tripod. “Cause he's not my kill. Think of it as a professional courtesy.”

 

“A professional what-?”

 

Without looking and without warning, Lawton fired his wrist gun; it ricocheted off the shutters, struck the lamp above them, and found its' mark in the skull of the North Rheelasian Diplomat in the office 500 yards away.

 

“Jesus Fuck!”

 

“Professional courtesy,” Lawton repeated, dropping the cigarette to the ground and lowering his mask over his stubbled chin. “Rather like me not dropping you.”

 

“Don’t pester me when I’m out on a job. You’ll find my courtesy is pretty short-lived.”

 

==The Iceberg Lounge==

 

“I’m sorry?” Gaige’s bottom lip twitched.

 

Cobblepot exhaled, swirling his glass of red wine. “Perhaps you misunderstand, Doctor. If Walker was The Clown's true target, then he poses us no present danger. Why would we risk antagonising him?”

 

“Why would- He blew up your cops!” Gaige roared indignantly.

 

“And our thoughts and prayers go out to the victims' families,” Cobblepot shook his head mournfully. “Truly, a tragic, unnecessary loss of life.”

 

To his left, Warren White chuckled, mouthing the words ‘Thoughts and Prayers,’ disingenuously. On his right, Sionis’ red eyes revealed a malicious satisfaction from this latest roadblock.

 

“I understand your conviction, Doctor, I do,” Cobblepot admitted. “But we cannot afford to risk our men and resources to chase ghouls and monsters. The clown has taken enough from us already.”

 

A disbelieving smile crept across Gaige's face as he finally understood. “That's it, isn't it? You're terrified. All of you. Pissing your britches over a fucking clown!”

 

“That's enough, Gaige, be sensible,” Cobblepot squawked, to no avail.

 

“The Gotham Mob. I had it all wrong; they all did! The Big Bad Gangsters, scared of a Looney Toon! Franco and Ferris, fuck, Mr Moth, they fought and died for a seat at the table, they just didn’t realise it was the kid’s table! Drink your milk, kiddies, draw some pictures, call mommy to change your diapers, ‘cause that’s what this is! What it’s always been!

 

“ENOUGH!” Penguin screeched, thumping the table with his flipper-like fists.

 

“Nicely done,” Sionis applauded his long-time rival. “You’re finished.”

 

Gaige held the door open, a grim smile on his weather-beaten features. “No. You’re finished.”

 

He signalled to Flannegan, waiting outside, and the pair departed, leaving the mob alone to ponder the pirate’s closing words.

 

==Castle Street. Edinburgh==

 

Gar and Jenna emerged from a shop window on Edinburgh’s high street; McCulloch said he couldn’t stay, must’ve been the Glaswegian in him, but promised he’d be back in an hour to pick them up. The streets, were practically empty; the hotels and restaurants were open for the Holidays of course, but the stores were shut until the 26th. Gar looked at the directions on his phone, and guided Jenna to an apartment block sandwiched between a hairdresser’s and one of five Costa Coffee shops in the City Centre.

 

“You’re sure this is it, Gar?” Jenna asked, as she began unlocking the doorway with a selection of tools concealed in her purse.

 

“I am,” Gar confirmed. “The Playhouse is doing a showing of MacBeth, he doesn’t miss Shakespeare. Not in Edinburgh, he got his start in a Hamlet production here forty years ago, moved into film not long after.”

 

“Then to be or not to be! That is the question!” Jenna squeezed his arm playfully as she pushed the door open with an effortless shove.

 

“That’s- That is a line, yeah,” Gar blushed.

 

“The big one,” she smiled.

 

“The biggest even,” Gar conceded.

 

“I never paid much attention to the words, to be honest,” Jenna confessed, as they ascended up the narrow flight of stairs. “It was the sets that caught my eye.”

 

“It was the sets that caught fire,” Gar smirked back at her.

 

As they approached the door of apartment 40, Jenna held her nose. “Bloody hell, it stinks of-”

 

“Mud,” Gar corrected her. “Smells of mud.”

 

“You gonna be alright in there?” Jenna asked, a concerned eyebrow raised.

 

“Sure, I will,” Gar smiled back softly. He raised his knuckle against the door and knocked. There was a faint squelching from within, then the door opened, seemingly of its’ own accord, then slammed shut once he’d entered. ‘So, this is what a thousand bucks a month gets you here,’ he muttered. The curtains slid shut, then a brown silhouette slid into view behind Gar, yellow eyes fixed on him.

 

“That woman in the hall-” it began, objecting to Jenna’s presence.

 

“-Is with me, she’s ok.”

 

“She’s aiming a fire extinguisher at the peephole.”

 

“In case things get ugly,” Gar said cautiously.

 

“Might things get ugly?” the mud man asked.

 

“That depends, you gonna apologise for faking your death?” Gar warned.

 

The mud man shifted into a purple suit and adjusted the brim of his large hat. “Lynns…”

 

“Bas. You couldn't resist, could you?” Gar asked, his features softening. “Castle Street?”

 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Karlo growled petulantly.

 

“Come on, this apartment's leased by an ‘Anna Lorde.’ Do I need to recount First Blood to you? Or do you get where I'm going with this?”

 

Karlo sank into his chair, placing a damp fist against his clay-like chin. “Lorna Dane... I... I hadn't realised.”

 

“’Guess you couldn't abstain from another performance,” Gar remarked.

 

Karlo ran his hand across the pile of film magazines on the coffee table. “You forget my first lesson. All life is acting, Lynns. Different masks, serving different functions. Agendas disguised by false smiles and cordial nods. I see that you have removed your own, let loose your true, blackened soul. A baptism of fire, perchance?”

 

Gar brushed his dry, cracked skin. “A couple, actually.”

 

“They have Sims, Bas. Sprung him from GCPD, right alongside Dru and Krill.”

 

Karlo’s face hardened at the mere mention of his former protégé. “Do they?” he asked. “And I suppose you have already begun rallying your allies... Hm. It was not so long ago that I sent out a casting call. Do you remember?”

 

“Of course, I do,” Gar snapped back a little too quickly.

 

“Yes. You were there. That weasel Flannegan also, oh, and that abrasive pirate, Gaige. And in case you have forgotten, and I know you have not, they sided with Sims. And when the dust settled, when my child was dust, dirt, mud to be carried upstream and washed away, where was Walker then? Hiding, to curry the Tiger Shark's favour.”

 

Gar ran a hand across his bald scalp, fishing for something, anything, to procure his first friend’s understanding. “He has a daughter, Bas. Three boys.”

 

Karlo’s yellow eyes softened, his face drooped and he sank even further into his seat. “Three boys...”

 

==Robinson Park==

 

Joined by Sharpe, Mayo and Blake (Who had returned earlier and more shaken than expected from his trip to DC), Chuck followed the cobblestone path towards the towering glasshouse in the centre of Gotham’s Robinson Park. His hand on the golden handle, he turned to his compatriots, his heart heavier than ever.

 

“I need to do this next bit alone.”

 

The Misfits nodded in understanding and offered Chuck their support. As he entered the glasshouse, Blake made a remark about a “Venus Guy Trap,” to Sharpe. In response, a branch thwacked him in the back of his head. As Sharpe chuckled at his friend's misfortune, a low hanging twig swung back and struck him in the groin.

 

~-~

 

As Chuck descended deeper into the glasshouse, the greenery was in turn lusher, more vibrant.

 

More alive.

 

Roots and vines shifted out of his way, giving him access to areas of the glasshouse that a seldom few had. Finally, he reached the centre of the room; a woman with flowing red hair sat on a enormous flower head like a throne, surrounded by multi-coloured flower petals of all shapes and sizes. Her skin had a greenish tinge to it, but it was nothing compared to her eyes.

 

Oh, Chuck could get lost in those eyes.

 

“Why are you here?” the woman spoke.

 

Chuck didn’t really know how to answer that. He hadn't seen her since… Since she left him at the altar.

 

“Drury loved the flowers, you know. At the funeral, I mean. I guess that was you,” he fumbled over his words.

 

“It was,” she nodded. “And I’m glad. Miranda Gaige and I had our differences, but she deserved better, so much better, than to die in some… hole beneath the city.”

 

Chuck looked at the ground, glumly. He couldn’t let himself look in her eyes, not again.

 

“Why are you here, Chuck?” she asked again.

 

Again, Chuck wondered. They had Doctor Polaris, the Rogues, Major Disaster and his Injustice League. They had more than enough to make a stand against the Outcasts, surely, and yet-

 

“Why… Why did you leave, Pamela? No note, no text. You were there by my side one minute. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together, I bought a tux, an actual tux, with cufflinks. And then, you were gone. Like you were never even there. Like… Like leaves, carried off by the wind. Yeah, I’ll always have those memories, I cherish them. But they’re like dreams, and when I wake up from that fantasy, I am faced with the cold hard reality of an empty bed.”

 

The woman was silent for a moment, then answered with a detached response. “Nature is always changing, Chuck. Deep down you knew that; it could never really be tamed. I could never just be a succulent on a windowsill. “

 

“But… I mean, we were happy, weren’t we?” Chuck asked, his eyes starting to brim with tears. “I know- God, I know I was. I know I wasn’t just a mark to you, there was more to it than that. Hell, what could I have ever possessed that you’d want to steal? What existed that I wouldn’t have given you if you had only asked?”

 

Pam looked away. “No. You were never a score, Chuck. The feelings we had for each other, those were real, not the pheromones or the lipstick. I never- I could never. Not on you. But Harley… Harley needed me. That monster… What he did, what he is- She needed someone nurturing. Someone to tell her she matters, to promise her that she didn’t have to be something she’s not. And you taught me how to be that person. I mean it, you cared. Since Woodrue, since the toxins… For the first time since I became ‘Poison Ivy…’ It was nice. Nice to have someone that cared for Pamela Isley.”

 

“What about me, huh? I needed you,” Chuck pounded his chest with a fist, a tear escaped from his eyes and ran down his cheek, and then, a vine caught it.

 

“No… No, Chuck, you never did. But now you’re at a precipice, like I was the day I left you in that corn factory. Now, I have the Green. I have Harley. And you? You have them. Your Misfits.”

 

~-~

 

Blake, Sharpe, and Mayo stood outside. It had been a few minutes since Chuck entered, and they had begun to feel agitated.

 

“The things I'd do to that mouth,” Mayo drooled, an unprompted remark which caught both Blake and Sharpe’s attention.

 

“Yeah?” Blake smirked. “Like what?”

 

“I would... Kiss it!” Mayo giggled, like it was the most scandalous thing in the world.

 

“Ooh, how audacious! Gonna hold hands next?” Sharpe teased.

 

==Butchinsky's==

 

The bar floor was practically empty, its only inhabitants a baby, a kindergartener and two more lost children. Bridget, sat by the bar staring into a glass of beer that she no longer had the appetite for. Simon stepped towards her, his fist clenched and his skin clammy, remnants from his encounter in the toilets.

 

“You've changed your costume,” Bridget observed.

 

“So have you,” Simon noted; Bridget's latest suit resembled her father's even more than it had in the other timeline.

 

“Yeah...” Bridget nodded, acknowledging his allusion to her contradictory loyalties.

 

The pleasantries finished, Simon dropped any pretence, adopting a stern face to mask his resurfaced trauma. He was much like his father in that regard, a brave face belying heaps of anxiety and insecurities. “I need to tell you something. Something I can't tell anyone else,” he started.

 

“What?” Bridget asked. She was much like her father too; she didn’t have much patience for preamble.

 

Simon hesitated, not sure if his decision was the right one. “You might be the only other person who can understand. Because you know what he's capable of,” Simon continued to speak evasively until he caught an impatient glint in Bridget's eyes. “I... I thought your dad'd be the worst of it... But he's back.”

 

Bridget eyed him with confusion, which quickly turned to dread and then horror as Simon uttered three horrifying words.

 

“Thawne is alive.”

 

Before Bridget had time to process, the front door swung open, and the Misfits came pouring back in.

 

“You said you might have something, Kuttler?” Chuck was asking.

 

“Yes, potentially our silver bullet. Emerson had got me thinking about the Society again, and I was reminded of an unfinished project of ours; Much like Batman’s Agamemnon Contingencies, one of our associates developed a series of algorithm, safeguards, really, to take down each and every one of our tech based ‘employees.’”

 

“Including Billings-?” Chuck inquired.

 

“Yes.”

 

“If that’s the case, why not bring this up before?” Ten asked.

 

“Because he defected before we could put his ideas into practise,” Kuttler explained. “There was a copy of it in his journal, until the clown destroyed it; he must have had his eyes on Billings for far longer than any of us realised… Which is why it’s incredibly fortunate for us that this man has a photographic memory.”

 

“But who?” Chuck asked, before it dawned on him. “Oh, no. No way.”

 

“Yes,” Gar said firmly.

 

“He's a prick, and a murderer,” Flannegan agreed with Chuck.

 

“So? Which of us isn't?” Gar questioned the room, each of them looking down sheepishly.

 

“Sure, but none of us have ever been smug about it,” Blake retorted.

 

“I do try to avoid killing people, thank you,” Ten stepped in.

 

“Look, that's not the point,” Chuck dismissed him.

 

“Chuck... he's the only guy who hates Joker as much as any of us,” Gar claimed.

 

Chuck shook his head. “Even if I did agree, which I don't- There's no way to find him.”

 

“Yes, there is. There's me,” Kuttler stepped in.

 

“Well?” Gar asked, his point made.

 

“God!” Chuck cursed, kicking the nearby trashcan.

 

“Chuck,” Rigger pleaded, a hand on his shoulder. “We have to try.”

 

==Slabside Penitentiary==

 

A man dressed in green sat beside Arthur Brown's hospital bed, watching the heart monitor. Brown had been comatose since Bane split his skull open. Some of the pieces, were still lodged in his brain. The man tapped his golden cane against the ground, each tap in perfect synchrony with the beeps from the device. A single pair of footsteps behind him caught his attention, and he lowered his green bowling hat. “Held in place, losing each race, ‘til someone cuts my strings, then I soar off into space. What am I?”

 

Chuck didn’t answer. “Can you stop him?”

 

“Hm.” The man slid off a pair of purple gloves and flexed his bare fingers. “Riddle me this: I can decimate the clown. Turn his smile to a frown. And I also killed the linage of the man called Charlie Brown. Who am I?”

 

Chuck’s fist clenched.

 

The Riddler’s white eyes narrowed, his pupils obscured by his purple domino mask. “The wound still hasn’t healed, I see,” he observed. “Interesting. So, why would a Kite-Man ask for my help?” he inquired,

 

“Your algorithm, I know you developed one to use against Spellbinder. Is it real?”

 

“You mean Noah couldn't figure it out?” Riddler started laughing, a childish, irritatingly smug giggle. “Oh, how delightful!”

 

An Illinois Air National Guard C-130 Hercules takes off from the Red Devil Landing Zone during exercise Cerberus Strike 16-02 on Fort Carson, Colo., Sept. 12, 2016. Contingency response forces rehearsed potential real-world situations by training with Army counterparts in cargo uploading and downloading on aircraft, aircraft engine running off-loads, communications, aerial port procedures, and air mobility liaison officer operations with airdrops from aircraft during the exercise. (U.S. Air Force photo/Master Sgt. Joseph Swafford)

SASEBO, Japan (June 2, 2017) Tug boats pull amphibious transport dock USS Green Bay (LPD 20) from the pier at Fleet Activities Sasebo, Japan so it can begin its routine patrol. Green Bay will operate in the Indo-Asia-Pacific region to enhance partnerships and be a ready-response force for any type of contingency. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Jordan Crouch/Released)

 

Ecological conception

Aesthetic experience

Capacity to humanize

When first sent to the Selby depot, low floor DAF DB250LF Optare Spectra YG52 CFJ was allocated as a school bus. In recent weeks however it has become part of the MAX fleet for the 415 Grand Yorkshire Connections service between York and Selby, and is seen loading up passengers at Piccadilly before an afternoon run.

A U.S. Air Force C-130 Hercules from Little Rock Air force Base, Ark., performs an engine-running offload at Geronimo Landing Zone on Fort Polk La., Oct. 17, 2012. The aircraft was supporting Joint Readiness Training Center Exercise Decisive Action. The exercise includes emphasis on joint forcible entry, phased deployment with an airborne parachute operation, a combined noncombatant evacuation, combine arms maneuver, wide area security, unconventional warfare and unified land operations in a joint, interagency, intergovernmental and multinational environment.

621st Contingency Response Wing

Photo by Tech. Sgt. Edward Gyokeres

Date Taken:10.17.2012

Location:FORT POLK, LA, US

Read more: www.dvidshub.net/image/766116/joint-readiness-training-ce...

 

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 45155713.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 45155713.jpg

 

For latest news visit www.gov.uk/government/organisations/ministry-of-defence

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The 8200s when they were in the contingency fleet

Photo taken 1995-1996

A portrait of dancer Adrienne O'Leary from the Janis Claxton Dance Company performing 'Chaos and Contingency' in the Grand Gallery of National Museum of Scotland. This was part of the 2013 Edinburgh Science Festival Programme.

 

You can find out more about Janis Claxton's Dance Company, here:

 

www.janisclaxton.com

 

You can see more shots from this event at these links:

 

Entropy in Action

 

Contact

 

Agent of Chaos?

 

Order From Chaos

 

My thanks are due to Frances Sutton from Edinburgh Science Festival, Esme Haigh from National Museum of Scotland and Janis Claxton.

CORAL SEA (Aug. 25, 2017) The Henry J. Kaiser-class replenishment oiler USNS Rappahannock (T-AO 204) fuels the amphibious assault ship USS Bonhomme Richard (LHD 6) during a replenishment-at-sea. Bonhomme Richard, flagship of the Bonhomme Richard Expeditionary Strike Group, is operating in the Indo-Asia Pacific region to enhance partnerships and be a ready-response force for any type of contingency. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Kyle Carlstrom/Released)

We are lucky to have House Wrens every year in our backyard. This year the pair built a nest in each of two nesting boxes that I hung in different locations. We also had a fairly large contingency of House Sparrows that harassed the little wrens, attempting daily to invade the nesting boxes. Fortunately, the openings of the nesting boxes are too small, so the sparrows didn't succeed in driving the wrens away. They finally settled into the nesting box hanging under a large pine tree and the activity of the wren pair is at a frenzied pace, as they both bring assorted insects to feed their brood and take out the fecal sacs to keep the nest clean. The nestlings are not yet visible but may fledge any day now!

 

A few things to know about House Wrens: They exhibit site fidelity (meaning if they are successful at rearing young, they return to the same location every year). This is true of some other birds as well. The male, House Wren arrives first in the spring, stakes out his territory, then begins to build the nest, and sings to attract the female. Once she accepts the location he selected, they mate, and she lays her eggs, one a day until she has a clutch of 2-8 eggs. The male feeds her while she is on the nest, although she may leave for brief periods. When the eggs hatch, both wrens feed and care for the young, and when the nestlings are fledged, they will continue to care for them for several more weeks. They will often raise a second or third brood.

 

*Please note that this was a behavioral study all shot through our window, so that the birds would not be disturbed. There is no editing except to sharpen some of the shots and to crop.