View allAll Photos Tagged armrest
Story time! (10 panels)
1 - Bei looks like a little man sitting there eating his biscuits, with one hand on the armrest
Not feeling so zesty. And this whole time I thought limes were enjoyed by all.
Lighting:
580EXII in Westcott 28" softbox @ 1/4 power positioned near head & couch armrest
430EXII with orange gel @ 1/8 power on opposite side of couch
Day 197/365
Economy Class - very dense seating, very uncomfortable.... The seat width and the "armrests" are a joke... Who wants to travel like that on a 10 hours flight? Absolutely unacceptable.
". . .with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head"? Not sure Jody was dreaming of "sugarplums" but it would have fit the holiday season when I took this shot in December 1975. The candle was real and not just floating in space. It was resting on a large round "coffee table" between the couch and the tree. When Jody rested her head on the armrest she was perfectly lit by a lamp on an end table next to the couch. In other words, all I had to do was grab my camera, focus and shoot. This shot kind of created itself!
Year: 1975
Film: Ektachrome 64
Camera: Nikon Nikkormat EL
Lens: Nikkor 105mm 2.5
Cindy takes a break and sits down on the big comfortable armrest of the couch. The armrest is a bit higher than the seats of the couch, thus allowing Cindy to sit up straight like a lady and show the full beauty of her big ballgown skirt. And what a magnificent skirt it is: super wide, super chic, super feminine and in a lovely puple color. Thank you Cindy for a superb skirt show.
Middlesex Guildhall was built 1906-13 as the third courthouse within a century to occupy the site of Westminster Abbey's old belfry and Sanctuary Tower.
The first, 1807, courthouse was replaced by the first Middlesex Guildhall in 1889, but the County Council and Middlesex Sessions rapidly outgrew their accommodation, necessitating this building. Middlesex having ceased to exist, other than as a postal district, in 1965, the Council Chamber became a Crown Court in the 1980s before closing then, after controversial conversion work, reopening as the UK Supreme Court in 2007.
Its location on Parliament Square, directly opposite the Houses Of Parliament, emphasises the separation of powers: politicians make laws and – independently – the justices of final appeal ensure they're applied fairly.
At the top of the building, Court 1 is the grandest of the three courtrooms. When it was modernised and converted from a Crown Court (the standard adversarial layout would have been inappropriate for Supreme Court hearings), some of the splendid wooden furniture was refurbished and retained for non-participants. This great cat (perhaps a tiger?) awaits a headrub.
The Cure on the Oldies station: Lovesong
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXCKLJGLENs
Whenever I'm alone with you - You make me feel like I am home again
Chris: (riding in the passenger seat of Michael's 1981 Mercedes Benz 300TD Wagon, watches as they cruise past the Surf'n Sail) So, that was my stop.
Michael: Shit! (hits the brakes and pulls a hard right down the next side street)
Chris: (clinging to the armrest and dash, remains casual) You seem a little -- distracted.
Michael: Yeah, just work stuff.
Chris: Work stuff hasn't made you cray before, Michael. You sure it isn't because of that dream Paradise had, where Tyler Griffin showed up at her front door. And then, last night, he actually shows up at her front door?
The Cure on the Oldies station: Whenever I'm alone with you
Michael: (his jaw tight) Dreams are just dreams. Him showing up was a coincidence.
Chris: I don't know. I've dreamed a lot of things in my life, and none of them have come true.
Michael: Hey!
Chris: (grins and drops his left hand on Michael's thigh) You might be a dreamboat, but you're my reality. I've heard of people who have dreamed things that came true, that's all.
The Cure on the Oldies station: Whenever I'm alone with you
Michael: Stop spending so much time watching "me-net" and read a book or something.
Chris: It's not all self-entitled, self-important stuff. DeFranco's pretty relevant, and cute.
Michael: Ah hah. DeFranco, eh? Should I be jealous?
Chris: Dude, you're so big, buff, and hot that they should be making superhero comics about your ass.
Michael: Just my ass?
The Cure on the Oldies station: Whenever I'm alone with you - You make me feel like I am fun again
Chris: (grins as Michael parks at the currently closed Surf'n Sail building) I still think your sister's dream coming true has you all freaked out. It's cute.
Michael: It's nonsense, and YOU need to go to work.
Chris: (sing-song) Mikie's superstitious. Mikie's superstitious.
The Cure on the Oldies station: Whatever words I say - I will always love you
Michael: (suddenly lunges across the front seat to tickle Chris mercilessly)
Chris: (laughs and thrashes helplessly)
Michael: (realizes a couple of older ladies have stopped in the crosswalk to gawk and he straightens, trying to appear casual)
Chris: (still giggling, spots the ladies too and gives them a wave, they grin too, and one even throws a wink as they continue walking)
Michael: (groans) That's going to be all over town by the end of the day.
Chris: Who cares?
Michael: It's unprofessional.
Chris: You're off duty.
Michael: It's silly.
The Cure on the Oldies station: Whenever I'm alone with you - You make me feel like I am free again
Chris: You need some silly in your life. You are usually so serious, you could be an undertaker.
Michael: Shut up.
Chris: You could be that big guy that answers the door at that weird family's house.
Michael: Emory at the Griffin's? He's not that big.
Chris: (gives Michael's shoulder a smack) Not the Griffin's. You've got Griffins on the brain. (snaps his fingers) The Addams Family, that's it. You're serious enough to be Lurch. (does a bad Lurch impression) Youu raang?
Michael: How much coffee did you have, before we left?
Chris: Only two cups.
The Cure on the Oldies station: However far away - I will always love you
Michael: Let's try just one, tomorrow, huh?
Chris: You've been kinda cranky ever since Tyler appeared on your mom's doorstep.
Michael: He didn't "appear," he just walked up.
Chris: First thing that happened in Paradise's dream. Are you worried that everything else will happen too?
Michael: She and Tyler aren't going to get together. How could they? Where are they going to bump into each other? At country club event? Some snobby party at the Griffin mansion? I'm not worried about the two of them getting together, I'm worried that she's going to think her dream was a prophecy or something.
Chris: That'd be kinda wicked though, right? Old Man Griffin would have a cardiac if his heir was dating a cashier. Although, if Paradise was handling cash, he might be a little forgiving.
Michael: Amias would lose his mind. (grins) I almost wish it was possible, but it's not worth the risk.
Chris: What risk?
Michael: Whenever the Griffins get involved in something, it goes to hell, for other people, not the Griffins.
Chris: Michael, chill. I'm just giving you a hard time. I know it'd be almost impossible for them to meet, much less start dating. You really have a serious hate on for that family, don't you?
Michael: All I can say is, nothing positive ever happened to someone who got involved with a Griffin. And people who cross them have a habit of dying -- accidentally.
Chris: Okay, now I'm officially paranoid too. The coffee isn't helping.
Michael: (pulls him close) Sorry, I'm a jerk. (kisses Chris) Forget what I said. I'll pick you up after you're done.
The Cure on the Oldies station: However long I stay - I will always love you
Chris: I can walk back.
Michael: Except that I'm going to take you someplace.
Chris: Dude, I'm going to be sweaty and dirty.
Michael: (grins secretively) Perfect. (kisses him again) See you tonight. (makes a shooing motion when Chris doesn't get out of the wagon immediately)
Chris: (watches as Michael drives away, wondering what his boyfriend has up his sleeve, then unlocks the side door of the shop and goes inside)
Marcus: (from the recessed doorway of the currently closed Anchor Antiques store, watches Chris with hooded eyes)
The Cure on the Oldies station: Whatever words I say - I will always love you - I will always love you
(Thank you to Seth for playing Chris and to Erebus for playing Michael. Haven't been able to find a 1981 300 TB in SL yet, but it's a quest. lol)
In 1981, the National Bus Company (NBC) introduced their upmarket National Express Rapide service in partnership with the well know West Country operator Trathen's. The Rapide service used better quality coaches with features such as air suspension, reclining seats, toilet, refreshments, hostess or steward, video and television. Some of these features were offered by Ribble Motor Services on their 'Gay Hostess' class Leyland Atlantean double-deck coaches during the sixties. The NBC had to hire suitable coaches from Trathen's to use on the new Rapide services. Towards the end of 1981, the NBC drew up the specification of the coach to be used on the Rapide services: it had to be British built, be a rear-engined coach with a power output of at least 245bhp, high-floor and have air suspension. Leyland Bus were known to be developing their own in-house rear-engined integral coach which would be launched in late 1982 but not go into production until 1983. The NBC turned to Hestair Dennis and a few days before Christmas 1981 NBC's engineers had lunch with Dennis' engineers and Dennis accepted to contract (challenge) to design and deliver by the end of April the following year, 10 rear-engine coach chassis to Duple who Dennis nominated to be the bodybuilder. Duple had just launched their high-floor coach called Goldliner. The contract stipulated that the first of the 10 coaches must be delivered by September of 1982, and the rest delivered by the end of 1982. Dennis developed the Falcon V rear-engined chassis which the front of the chassis was shared with the Dennis Dominator double-deck chassis. The Falcon V chassis had a 20ft wheelbase and powered by a rear mounted vertical 10.5-litre V8 Perkins TV8.640 turbocharged diesel engine producing 260bhp at 2400rpm, because a lot of NBC drivers had 'Teflon' (none stick) driving licences, the Falcon had to have a semi or a fully-automatic gearbox, Dennis chose to use a Voith 4-speed fully-automatic gearbox, the drive went to a Eaton 23000 series rear axle to give a top speed of 75mph. Other features of the Falcon V chassis include: air suspension, air brakes, power steering and a front mounted radiator. All 10 Falcon V chassis at a cost of £37,000 each were delivered to Duple Coachbuilders by the end of April 1982, Duple developed a luxury version of their Goldliner body known as the Super Goldliner IV and had a flat roof rather than the stepped roof fitted to the standard version, inside featured 47 reclining Duple seats, central mounted sunken toilet with a servery unit mounted on top of the toilet compartment. Other features include: video, colour television, and tinted side windows.
The first two Duple Dennis Falcon V coaches were launched to the trade press at Peterborough in early September 1982, then a week later they were handed over by the Transport Secretary David Howel to Robert Brook the Chief Executive of the NBC at Dennis' Guilford factory and entered service with Western National, the remaining eight were delivered by January 1983, and entered service with Western National (three) Yorkshire Traction (two), West Yorkshire Road Car Co (one), and National Travel West (two). Because the timescale that Dennis and Duple had was hopelessly impracticable resulted in no testing done before the completed coaches entered service, which resulted in a series of operational problems: body flexing caused the plug type entrance door to open while the coach was moving, which cut the power from the engine! the 4-speed automatic gearbox lacked a high top gear! and a few Falcons caught fire. The NBC decided not to order any more Dennis Falcon coaches and specified Duple and Plaxton bodied Leyland Tigers to be used on the Rapide network, then from 1984 MCW Metroliner and Plaxton Paramount 4000 double-deck coaches, but that is another story to be told. The Falcon coaches were withdrawn after less than three years and sold most had covered over 200,000 miles each! A number of operators re-powered the Falcon with a Cummins LT10 engine. The last sighting of a Dennis Falcon V coach was in 2005, it was owned by small coach company called Day Tripper who shared a yard with a coach company called Ribble Valley Coaches at Broughton near Preston. This Falcon was new to National Travel West as ANA 100Y. The owner of Day Tripper Barry Leyland told me who ever wants it can have it for scrap value and take it away.
Dennis was rather optimistic at the press launch of the Falcon V coaches at Peterborough in September 1982, and quoted that in future the Falcon V would be offered with a choice of a normal aspirated Perkins engine producing 206bhp, or a Mercedes OM 422 V8 engine producing 280bhp, two types of ZF 6-speed synchromesh gearboxes would be offered. Apart from the 10 Falcon V coaches built for the NBC, only one more was built (SDA404/120), which was used as a test-rig and was displayed by Dennis at the 1982 Motor Show held at the NEC near Birmingham. This chassis was later broken for spares. Dennis even said at the launch that they might build a rear-engined integral coach. In June 1983, Hestair took over Duple, and by the end of the year Dennis and Duple were working together on a in-house rear-engined intergral coach which became the Duple Integral 425.
David Hargreaves who was the Executive Chairman of Dennis knew that the NBC were still looking for a purpose built coach for their National Express network. The Integral 425 was developed with the NBC in mind: maximum passenger capacity, maximum luggage space, and maximum fuel economy. Duple had built a prototype integral Caribbean based on a Neoplan Cityliner underframe, this became the test bed for the Integral 425, and repowered with a Cummins LT10 engine mated to a five-speed fully-automatic ZF gearbox, the running units that the Falcon V should have used. Sadly, by the time the Integral 425 went into full production in 1987, the NBC were in the process of broken up and sold. The NBC took four Integral 425s in late 1985, followed by 13 in 1987, National Express took a solitary Integral 425, but when they drew the specification of the Expressliner in 1988, it was not based on a 425, but a Plaxton Paramount 3500 Volvo B10M, their 425 proved to be unreliable. The first 12 production 425s had the frames built by Duple, then transported down to Guilford for Dennis to attach the running units, and then driven back to Blackpool to be completed by Duple. This arrangement proved to be expensive and time consuming, so a few of Dennis' engineers were transferred to Duple, so the running units could be fitted by Duple.
Dennis developed the Falcon as a rear-engined single-deck bus for Leicester, with the first bodied by Duple entering service in early 1981. Two versions of the Falcon bus were offered H and HC. Then came the Falcon V rear-engined coach chassis, followed by the Falcon V rear-engined double-deck bus chassis. The Falcon was in production from 1981 to 1993, a total of 140 were built of all types, chassis numbers 101-2140.
This view shows a West Yorkshire Duple Super Goldliner IV (C47Ft) Dennis Falcon V (SDA404/112) DWW 925Y fleet number 2201 parked in Leeds Wellington Street coach station. Note the smart Alcoa alloy wheels which were fitted to help keep the weight down, the quoted unladen weight was 11.52 tons (11,712 kg).
Dennis did build other coach chassis, the Dorchester launched in 1982 only 67 built, but the Javelin launched in 1986 was a sales success and remained in production until 2011 with 2566 built. The rear-engine R-Series launched in 1999 to replace the successful Javelin only remained in production to 2006 with 98 built. What let Dennis down until the Javelin was launched, was no dealers, no back up, and poor spare parts availability, sadly the last two mentioned weaknesses, would always be the weakness of Dennis. The Javelin was a superb coach chassis, the only let down was the clutch on the models with manual gearboxes, and cooling problems if thrashed up and down the motorways on National Express services.
Conclusion: People seem to like to criticise both Dennis and Duple over the Falcon V fiasco, given that both parties only had four months to design a build, it was a great achievement, if the NBC had only gave Dennis and Duple four months to test a bodied prototype, then the Falcon V would be a different story, or would it? Duple replaced the Goldliner with the Caribbean in September 1982, the same month that the first two Falcons entered service with Western National. Dennis's experience of building the 10 Falcon V coaches was used when Dennis worked with Duple on the design of the Integral 425, and later the R-Series.
Postscript: During my PSV (PCV) driving career I have had the pleasure of driving many Dennis buses and coaches: Dart, Dominator, Dragon, Javelin, R-Series and Trident, apart from the Trident which were awful things to drive, the other models were a delight to drive. My favourite was the Javelin, a true driver's coach, I have drove the standard model with the 240bhp engine, and the range topping 300GX model, both manual and automatic.
Technical details Duple Super Goldliner Dennis Falcon V coach:-
Chassis Type: Dennis Falcon V 12-metre rear-engined coach chassis (£37,000)
Chassis Manufacturer: Hestair Dennis Ltd, Guildford,Surrey GU2 5XP England UK
Engine: Rear mounted vertical 10.5-litre turbocharged Perkins V8 TV8.640 diesel engine
Power output: 260bhp at 2,400rpm
Torque: 640lb.ft at 1800rpm
Gearbox: Voith D854 4-speed fully-automatic with torque convertor and an integral retarder. Gear selector buttons to the right of the driver below the side window, with a push button for each forward gear, neutral and reverse, fourth gear button would engage fully automatic operation of the gearbox. When in the automatic mode, the driver could hold each gear by pushing the button for that gear, and to return to fully automatic mode fourth gear button would be engaged, to prevent accidental engagement of reverse an additional button needed to be engaged at the same time.
Rear axle: Eaton 23000 series (10.8 ton), with a ratio of 5.43:1 giving a maximum top speed of 75mph
Front axle: GKN
Suspension: Full air suspension with self levelling valves, two air bellows and telescopic dampers mounted on a trailing 'A' frame on the front axle, and four air bellows and telescopic dampers mounted on a 'H' frame on the rear axle
Brakes: Full air split system featuring Eaton ''S'' cam brakes, spring actuated parking brake on rear axle and a Bendix Westinghouse AD2 air dryer
Steering: Integral power steering, 20in two spoke steering wheel, 5 3/4 turns lock to lock, turning circle 68ft
Cooling: Front mounted radatior with a 24in diameter thermostatically controlled hydraulic driven cooling fan, oil cooler incorporated in the cooling system for the gearbox
Fuel Tank: 80 gallon fuel tanks behind front axle, filler neck behind the offside front wheel arch panel
Wheels and Tyres: 10 stud Alcoa alloy wheels, tyre size radial, tubeless 275/80 × 22,5
Instrumentation: Two man tachograph, three air pressure gauges, fuel gauge and a panel of six warning lights: coolant, alternator, oil pressure, gearbox temperature, main beam and indicators, in addition a Radolarm warning light with test facility for the coolant
Performance: Maximum speed if holding each gear: 1st 32mph, 2nd 41mph, 3rd 57mph, and 4th 75mph. Speeds for gear changes in the automatic mode: 2nd 20mph, 3rd 35mph and 4th 50mph
Fuel consumption: Approximately 6mpg at 70mph
Bodywork: Duple Super Goldliner IV (£38,000)
Bodybuilder: Duple Coachbuilders Vicarage Lane, Blackpool FY4 4EN, England, UK
Body type: Super Goldliner IV
Height: Approximately 3.5-metre
Glazing: Tinted single glazing with full draw curtains
Seating and trim: 47 reclining seats, with armrests, trimmed in autumn tint brown striped moquette. Additional fold up seat for the Hostess or Steward recessed into the toilet compartment. Chapman Driver's seat. Full soft trim to sides and the roof, and a removable gangway carpet
Audio, Television and Video equipment: Radiomobile radio and cassette player with microphone, each seat has an individual earphone socket, two 14in JVC colour television monitors one above the driver's partition and the second in the centre near the servery unit, Panasonic video recorder/player
Heating: Smiths Webasto DBW300 system
Entrance Doors: Power operated plug type door, Continental centre door mounted on the offside
Toilet: Sunken centre mounted offside
Luggage: 6.7-metres of storage between the axles
My favorite movie in my favorite theater - The Riverview Minneapolis, MN.
Check them out at www.riverviewtheater.com
Euroa Gold with a Atherton Ivory roof
The EJ Holden was built from July 1962-August 1963, styling a radical departure from that of the EK, the roofline was over 3 inches lower, the rear fins were gone, it had a lower, flatter bonnet and boot. The old Grey 6 cyl was just the same, but brakes and suspension were improved.
3 models were now available;
Standard; rubber floor mats and single tone paint.
Special; stainless side trim, two tone paint option
New Premier; auto, leather interior, bucket seats, console, pull down armrest in the back and an AM radio. Outside it got special wheel trims , extra chrome and Gold Premier badges.
Available was the Sedan, Wagon, Utility and Panel Van
Engine; 75 hp 138 cu in grey 6 cyl
The EJ was also assembled from CKD kits in Trentham, New Zealand
She wants a car with a cup holder armrest
She wants a car that will get her there
She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her MG for a white Chrysler LeBaron
Walking around during the intermission at my daughter's dance performance this afternoon. Still practicing with low-light situations where you cannot use a flash. Adjusted ISO, and used Shutter Priority mode; didn't want to go any slower than 1/50 or 1/60 shutter speed. Not as much noise as I expected (there was still some, of course), but smoothed it out in LR. This was a theater so very dark and kinda hard to focus. Here's one of the shots I took and actually ended up liking. I really liked the blue of the seats and the brown from the little desks on the armrests and how they are illuminated down the row. I guess today was experimentation day: I changed so many of my camera's settings, I hope I can get them back to where I had them!
Little Tommy had never been to the barber before. His mom said, “It’s just a haircut, nothing to be scared of.” But as soon as he stepped inside the old barbershop, Tommy froze.
The overhead light buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. A single barber’s chair sat in the middle, looking less like a place for grooming and more like an electric chair ready to deliver justice. On the walls, sharp scissors glistened in neat rows like surgical tools. The clippers gave off a low, menacing hum, like a hungry robot waiting to bite.
In Tommy’s wide-eyed imagination, the friendly barber wasn’t smiling—he was a mad scientist. His white apron became a blood-stained lab coat, and the comb in his hand transformed into a gleaming torture device. The spray bottle? Clearly filled with truth serum.
The striped barber pole spinning outside the window suddenly looked like a warning siren, spiraling red and white, saying: Abandon hope, all ye with messy bangs!
Tommy shuffled forward, picturing a dungeon hidden beneath the floorboards where kids who squirmed too much were banished, doomed to spend eternity sweeping up hair clippings. He sat in the chair, stiff as a statue, gripping the armrests like a prisoner strapped down.
Then the barber clicked the clippers on.
BZZZZZZZZZZ!
Tommy’s imagination screamed: Chainsaw! Chainsaw! Chainsaw! He flinched so hard the barber had to steady his head. His mom tried not to laugh, whispering, “Relax, it’s just a trim.”
But to Tommy, every snip of the scissors was like a guillotine falling. Every lock of hair that drifted to the floor was a piece of his very soul being cut away.
Finally, after what felt like hours in the torture chamber, the barber spun him around to face the mirror. Tommy blinked. The monster scientist was gone, and in his place stood a friendly old man with kind eyes. His reflection showed a neat little haircut, not a single scar or missing ear.
The terror faded. For a moment.
Then Tommy thought: If Mom brings me back here again, I’m bringing a helmet.
Cleo loves her perch on the arm rest by the window. She gets a little peeved when the curtains aren't opened for her.
The Throne of Princess Sitamun, found in the tomb of her grandparents, Yuya and Thuya in Thebes (KV46). The armrests show the goddess Tawaret (the hippo-lion hybrid) accompanied by Bes. New Kingdom (18th Dynasty); Egyptian Museum, Cairo.
This is how we roll, my Bugsy and me.
He's a runner, and wild as a March hare, so to prevent him from jumping all over the car (and me) while in motion I affix his leash to the headrest with enough slack for him to look out the window, sniff the air conditioner vents, lie down, and he can even reach the console armrest and sit on it while I wrap my arm around him.
We usually carry treats and water, even for a short hop, but essential for long rides when we're looking for cows and horses to bark at.
LF02 PVA was quite a famous bus when it started its life, heralded as Arriva's "bus of the future", a strapline it even carried on its bodysides. With 2+1 seating, armrests, and overhead luggage racks, it was intended to show off features which may become commonplace in later years.
It started off at Arriva Midlands, as fleet number 2200. It attended Showbus in 2002: www.flickr.com/photos/33216596@N02/4488804240/ photo by Steven Hughes. Note the plug type doors and rabbit ear mirrors.
I can't remember the details of what it did next, but it was at Southern Counties' Guildford depot by at least 30 May 2004, when it appeared at Guildford rail station on the Aldershot & District running day, by now as fleet number 6200. Still with rabbit ears, it was nicknamed "big ears" at Guildford. It was renumbered 3730, and stayed at Guildford for a few years, regular on the 4, 34 and 100 - it was well suited as a spare for the Guildford park and ride - indeed re-numbered into the same sequence - although not technically the same type of bus as the Volvo B7RLE/Wright Eclipse Urbans used on the P&R, this is the unpopular B7L/Wright Eclipse Metro combination.
It did have plug doors at Guildford for some time, but I think it was Guildford who eventually changed them to normal ones. It was definitely Guildford who changed the mirrors for normal ones. Here's a photo of it in 2005 on the 34: www.flickr.com/photos/33650137@N05/6009192727/ photo by John Law.
Sadly, five years later, when the new 91 Enviros arrived at Guildford, Bus of the Future left, along with the remaining East Lancs Spryte Darts, to other parts of Southern Counties.
3730 went to Northfleet for a short while, even managing to operate the Fastrack service!
It wasn't long though before it was transferred to Shires and Essex, renumbered as 3890. It went to Aylesbury, who put LEDs in it. That's where I saw the bus in July 2009.
Since then, it has been repainted into interurban livery, and transferred to Stevenage.
Friarage Road, Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire.
To go along with the issue, here is the soundtrack for Issue 1 (and pretty much all of Blackest Night. So if you care to, you can listen to it before, during, or after the read.) I'll be doing this with a majority of the issues for Blackest Night, so I hope you can enjoy the various songs I've chosen! (Side note, any visuals can be ignored in the video links, only the music is being referenced.)
Blackest Night Main Theme - Beginning of the End
____________________
John closed the door of his apartment, turning the lock as he slipped off his black sneakers. The apartment was dimly lit, a single lamp left on, like he always left it. Even just a single light, it still made it feel like home; it made it feel like someone was waiting.
Slipping his overcoat off of his shoulders and tossing it onto the armrest of his couch, John took steps to the kitchen. The light of the refrigerator shined in the room as he reached for a can of Soder Cola.
Turning, ready to shut the door behind him, John completely froze. In the dim light of the lamp and refrigerators glow was a grey and black figure.
John eyed the figure, discerning key features of it. Loose tie, hair swept to the side, face puffy to the point of looking swollen…
The flakes of gold burned into its flesh at different places.
"T-Tommy…?" John whispered, his eyes unmoving from the target.
"S'wrong, Johnny?" Spoke the figure, an accent weaving his words, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. "Ya' look like yous' seen a ghost."
The can of Soder Cola fell to the floor, as a cackling laugh by the figure filled the room.
-^-
"Great work out there, you two," Hal commended, looking at both Simon and Jessica. "Stopping a fleet of pirates from getting into the Renols is no small feat."
The trio of Lanterns had finished an assault on a band of Thanagarian pirates, stopping them from robbing an outer rim medicinal center of it's supplies. Hal was called in to help secure the arrest, but the younger duo had already completed the mission.
"Hey, it's just another day of being a superhero, am I right?" Simon responded, folding his arms behind his head as he continued to fly through the stars.
Hal smiled slightly at Simon's enthusiasm, reminding him of his younger self, only a bit less self-centered.
"Being a superhero doesn't exclude you from praise though, Simon," reminded Hal as the heroes got closer to Oa.
"Yeah, I guess it just doesn't really matter to me, you know?" Simon explained. "As long as I do th-"
"Guys," Jessica called, causing Hal to turn his head. "Wh-what is that?"
When Hal looked forward, his eyes became saucers, blood running ice cold.
Oa. His second home, rebuilt after the destruction that came with Evil Star, was gone. In its place was darkness. Blackness covering every single inch of the planet.
"What is it?" Jessica asked, her head turned to Hal. Hal didn't respond, his eyes couldn't be removed from the sight in front of him.
"It's some kind of goo," Simon stated as he began to fly towards the planet. "Let's go che-"
"No."
Both the younger Lanterns' eyes fell on Hal, his face still carrying the shock it had moments ago.
"We need to get John and Guy, now."
-^-
"Tommy… how are you… I watched you die," John said with a quivering voice.
"Guess we don' all stay dead, yeah?" responded Tommy as he walked forward, spinning what looked to be a pocket knife in his hand, but the glow made John think otherwise.
John was frozen in place. His ring felt like it didn't exist, like any energy it had built up inside was gone.
Weightless, lifeless.
"I just… how?" John asked, watching as the man grew closer to him. As he left the shadow of the room, his features became more apparent. The torn bits of his shirt, his skin pale and grey. "How are you here?"
"People don't just die, Johnny, my boy," he explained, flicking the knife open. "There's a whole lotta shit after that can make ya' head spin."
"P-people… all people?" John asked, cautious nervousness overtaking his voice.
"Even 'da ones closest," Tommy said, the tip of the knife pressed against John's left pec, "to our hearts."
"I… don't… don't understand," John muttered, the feeling of the blade slowly breaking his skin stinging.
"You trust me, aye, Johnny?" Tommy asked, placing his other hand on John's shoulder. "Just shut 'ya eyes for me, and I'll fix all 'da pain.
"I'll help 'ya get back 'da one you'se want most."
The words racked through his brain. The words he was saying, they were lies. They had to be… be some type of trick.
But Tommy was dead. Tommy being here, standing in front of him… could someone else do it? Could he see her again?
"John," Katma called as she walked through the southern gardens of Mogo. John could hear the woman from his spot near the cliffside, her footsteps closing in on him.
"Hey," he spoke, not looking away from the sunset.
The woman took a seat next to him, curling up next to him. "Hey, too."
The two sat in silence, watching the sun lower itself. The sound of water flowing below them, wildlife causing ambient sounds.
"It's nice," John finally stated, "the sky, the atmosphere."
Katma nodded her head, "It almost reminds me of home… before…"
"Yeah… yeah I feel you," he responded, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
"I hope that one day, the war will end," she spoke softly, leaning her head against his chest. "I want to show you how beautiful Korugar can really be."
"Well, if you came from there," he started before turning his head to look at her, "it's no question about it."
Katma smiled, leaning in. John closed his eyes, his last sight being Katma bathed in the sunset's warm glow.
John's eyes slowly fell shut. Just like the day on Mogo. His last sight being Tommy, a harsh white light from the refrigerator illuminating him.
The sound of concrete and plaster being broken caused him to open his eyes. His kitchen table was gone, as well as the outer wall. His head turned to the inner wall to see Guy, fully suited up.
"Just in the nick of time, eh John?" Said Guy with a smirk, stepping in through the massive hole he had made.
"Wh-what going on?" John questioned blinking a few times, breaking from his trance.
"Your ring acting up again?" Guy asked, his brow raising in concern. "Hal sent out a message to us. It… it isn't good."
-^-
"John and Guy are both safe," Simon announced, looking at Jessica and Hal, "They're on their way to get Jade and Todd now."
Both Hal and Jessica breathed out a sigh at the news they were safe. The trio were currently at the Lantern Lair, Hal on his knees in the corner of the room, prying open a hidden vault.
"Guy also relayed that John was already attacked…"
Hal paused, turning to Simon. "Did he say who it was?"
Simon didn't speak for a moment, looking down to the ground, "Tommy…"
Hal closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. Tommy Kalmaku was his best friend. The first person he'd openly revealed his identity to. When he was killed by Goldface… Hal regretted not being there.
But John was there. John was forced to watch him die. To see his reanimated corpse… he hoped it was the worst of what's to come.
It could've been worse. It could've been…
The crack of the safe refocused his attention, the metal box now opened.
"So, what's inside?" Jessica asked, Peeking over Hal's shoulder.
"Something made by an old friend," Hal spoke, lifting up a projector-like device. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, the metal slightly rusted.
"Uh… are you sure it'll work?" Simon asked, an uneasy smile on his face.
"It better…".Hal responded, flipping the switch on the side of the machine.
A puff of smoke and dust burst from the vent of the machine, a glow of green shining from inside. Hal smiled at the success, allowing the device to fully boot online.
"So, Hal…" Jessica started, looking from the box to the older lantern, "can you explain… anything that's happening"
Hal sighed, looking down to the box.
"The Blackest Night… it's… it's a prophecy that signifies the end of life itself. The emotional spectrum is filled with all seven core emotions; willpower, fear, anger, love, compassion, avarice, and hope. Each of these emotions draw power from their emotional entities; Ion, Parallax, The Butcher, The Predator, Proselyte, Ophidian, and Adara. However, those are not all entities of the spectrum.
"Nekron is the entity of death itself, a creation of the Guardians of the Universe long before the Green Lantern Corps existed," Hal looked down to the ring on his finger. "The same way Oa has Ion's soul trapped inside of ours, Nekron is the power batter of Death… and anyone that gets a death ring becomes his hand's slave."
"His hand?" Simon asked, looking at Hal with curiosity in his eyes.
"Nekron… he isn't real… or, isn't anchored in this reality," Hal explained. "His soul can't control more than a single person, so it is prophesied to latch onto someone and corrupt them. Death's Hand."
"And Death's Hand… has been chosen…" Jessica concluded under her breath. "The dead are being risen."
Hal nodded, solemnly. "So then, what's this helping with?" Simon questioned, pointing to the box, which now was cycling between the glowing color.
"This… is an invention by Arin Sur, the most brilliant engineer I've ever met," Hal spoke, turning the dial on the machine. "It can detect the emotional entity most attached to a living organism."
"Scanning… Scanning… Simon Baz, Earth: Coast City, age 20, emotional alignment: Willpower"
"Woah…" Simon muttered, looking at Hal. "It can just do that?"
Hal once again twisted the dial, the projector displaying video footage of Batman and Robin in a car chase.
"Scanning… Scanning… Bruce Wayne, Earth: Gotham City, age 38, emotional alignment: Willpower."
"Bruce Wayne is…?" Simon questioned, his eyes widening.
"Okay, this is cool Hal, but what is going to help us with?" Jessica asked, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.
"I told you Nekron was the embodiment of death, but like the other emotions aside from Hope, which is experimental, it has an inverse.
"The One. An entity of Life itself," Hal started, twisting the knob once more, causing the machine's glow to become white. "The prophecy states it is the opposite of Nekron. The moment Death's Hand rises, Life's Light will shine."
The projector began to display an image, a teenage boy sat alone in a studio office. His right hand scribbled away on his drawing tablet while his left held the device down.
"Scanning… Scanning… Kyle Rayner, Earth: Coast City, age 16, emotional alignment: Life"
All three stared in awe at the boy as he reached for the bag of chips on the left of his desk.
"Uh… that's… um," said Simon at a loss for words. "He looks like he could be my kid."
"He's in Coast City?" asked Jessica. "Isn't it kinda odd all of us are from Coast City?"
"Not the time," Hal commanded with haste in his voice. "We need to get to him, now."
-^- Space Sector 666, Keshtar Belt -^-
Stood atop the Keshtar asteroid belt was William Hand, his right hand held up in a puppeteer-like fashion. On his right, curled into a ball with his hourglass between his stomach and knees was John Starr, the Time Commander. Jim Corrigan, the Spectre floated on his left.
"You were correct, Commander," Hand announced, his body unmoving. "The Green Lanterns of Earth do pose some semblance of an annoyance."
"I-i-i-it is as I f-f-foresaw," replied the man, his head looking up to Hand.
"You are pitiful, Commander," the Spectre chastised. "The power of gods is handed to you, and you cower in front of a poser."
"Oh, Spirit," Hand chuckled, "you should be the one to cower. Once the Blackest Night falls, you will be no more."
"The decimation of life can never occur," Corrigan countered. "You shall soon find this out, puppet."
"We shall see," Hand responded with a smile. "Commander, have you located the device?"
"Y-y-yes…"
"Bring it to me."
A vortex of black appeared next to the crouched man, a green gauntlet falling to the floor.
"Excellent…" Hand said, his other hand raising.
A black mist began to encompass the gauntlet causing the globe to rise in front of Hand.
"By my Black Hand, the dead… shall…"
In front of them, the gauntlet began to form a black, blood-like goo. Corrigan's eyes narrowed as the blackness formed a shape of a human.
"RISE!"
The goo began to form an outer shell, the facial features of a human forming along with clothing of black and grey. It's right hand, however, still was covered by the glove.
Dark black hair, a pale grey tone for skin. A black sweater like shirt with silver armor plating, grey pants and black boots. Around his shoulders was a long black cape with a high black collar.
"You have been gifted by Death's Hand," Hand spoke, lowering his arms.
"It is time you pay your home a visit."
Dora reluctantly agreed to pose for a minute or two :-)
This chair is part of a lounge suite we bought in 1983 at the World of Leather in the UK. It has had the seats re upholstered, the armrests have new leather, and it is in great shape for its age.
== My Alibi==
"Hey, folks," a new, squeaky voiced arrival swung the door open and lumbered down the steps.
The short man’s entrance was met with an enthusiastic "Jumbo!" from the bar patrons.
Smiling at the welcome, Jumbo trotted across the bustling bar and sat down beside James Carter at his usual stool by the counter. Carter slackened the strap of his hefty mail bag and slapped his friend across the back.
Without missing a beat, Leonard Fiasco manoeuvred past the Turtle, and slid a glass of the Ant-Man’s favourite beer his way.
As he did so, his eyes met with waitress Celia Smith who blushed and quickly looked down.
"Oh, Len, what are we doing?" she asked him.
Fiasco’s jaw slackened. The question had caught him by surprise. Something was wrong. He kept wiping the counter, his hand stuck in a clockwise motion. My Alibi was burned to the ground. Carson and Carter were dead. Turtle was currently a baby. Celia Smith ditched him for Bruce Wayne back in junior high. And... And... And... There was a ringing in his head like there was an audience just beyond the north wall. A north wall, which for some strange reason, his eyes would wander past. Like something was there that didn’t want to be seen.
"End the simulation."
==Arkham Asylum==
Crane’s gnarled hand grasped the armrest of his wheelchair, a curled lip concealed behind layers of stitched burlap. As they observed Fiasco, a variation of the Cheers theme began playing. Billings grinned at Crane proudly, but catching his eye, swallowed, and turned the cassette off.
"There’s... There was a good bit coming up," he assured Scarecrow.
Crane looked at him, his lip curled. "I think you misunderstand the assignment, Mr Billings. They are supposed to believe in the simulation."
"He did-"
"Oh? Reminding Fiasco of Carson’s death?"
"He fit the archetype-" Billings began.
"I don’t want an archetype. I don’t want tropes. Or clichés. I want an authentic glimpse into a better life. One we can tear down and destroy this man utterly. Run the simulation again. No Jumbo Carson. And no... wooden Indian in the doorway."
"Hey, I never met this Smith girl, she could look like Shelley Long-"
"Enough. Run the simulation again."
It wasn’t a suggestion, but a command. That much was clear. And Dellbert Billings had been in this business long enough to know when it was time to argue, and when it was time to shut up.
"No matter," Crane’s nose wrinkled, smelling the liquor on Billings’ breath. "How is our other subject?" he asked.
Billings breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Crane didn't intend to kill him just this yet. "Let me show you-"
As he took hold of the handles of the wheelchair, Crane slapped his hand away. So much for that goodwill...
"I am no helpless babe, Mr Billings. I do not require your assistance," he scowled, gripping the wheels himself, and trundling forwards.
"Uh, see, Joker was insistent, Scarecrow. Didn’t want you, uh, 'Trundling off the edge of a cliff.'"
"I would be so lucky..." Crane mused, as his arms slumped down to his sides, allowing Billings to cart him off in the direction of the second observation room: Jeremiah Arkham was standing in the center, the cramped cell transformed into a sprawling auditorium. He was on stage, accepting a Nobel Prize for his strides in bettering the world's understanding of Mental Health, in curing all the sick and unhinged that had plagued this city for all these years. And he was smiling, blissfully unaware of the two monsters observing him from behind the glass. No, he didn't have the capacity to fight the simulation; his weeks of torture at the clown's hand had made sure of that.
"See? Fine," Billings spoke, taking another swig from his hip flask.
"A pity."
"I don't know about that, he’s a valuable hostage," Billings shrugged. "No matter how things turn out, the cops aren’t gonna risk one of their own."
"One of their own? The fascist fools in the police department wave their badges and guns around in the air, begging to be taken seriously. But Jeremiah Arkham is, was, different. His family’s legacy was tarnished by a mad dog and a doctor stricken by the same madness he had built this institution to tame. So, when he graduated medical school, he aimed to do what Amadeus could not, what Sharp, Young, Cavendish and all the other supposed academics failed to do: To tame the untameable. Not for profit, but for the greater good. And look... Just look at what that has cost him. His freedom. His sanity, perhaps. The pity, Mr Billings, is that he failed. Failed to resist your illusions when a lowly bartender, a parasite, a lowlife with a gimmick saw through your mind games. Gotham grinds most into the ground, but none fare worse than the idealists who actually delude themselves into believing that they can make a difference. It consumed Dent. It consumed Grange. And so too will it consume Doctor Jeremiah Arkham."
A crackle of lightning signified Zoom's arrival, standing between the two men, his red eyes darting between them. "The Joooooker wantsto seeeeeeee you," he raised an arm at Scarecrow.
"Oh, very well..." Crane resigned himself. "We wouldn't want to disappoint him..."
===Gotham City===
Garfield Lynns rang the doorbell and took a step back, ushering his companions to stand behind him in case things got ugly. There was a faint tapping of footsteps from within, and then the handle turned; a tall, red-haired woman had answered the bell; she had a glass of wine in one hand and was dressed in a stretched-out t-shirt which came to a rest at her knees and read 'This Mom is on Fire.'
"Oh," her nose crinkled, as she looked down at the group shuffling by the porch. "I thought you were dead."
"Hey, Clair. Missed you," Gar spoke. Behind him, Needham nodded politely while Joey dragged his feet across the ground, avoiding eye contact. Jenna picked at a freckle on the bottom of her elbow.
"Well, that sucks all the fun out of teasing you. Come in," she replied, ushering Gar inside and rolling her eyes at the sorry-looking lot trailing behind him. "Josie’s upstairs, I just put her to bed ten minutes ago."
"Alright, good," Gar nodded. As Jenna stepped forward, Clair placed her arm across the doorframe, blocking her way.
"Jenna," she said coldly, her orange eyes fixed on her. The glass of wine in her other hand bubbled.
"Clair," Jenna answered equally stiffly, standing on her tip-toes to match Volcana's height.
"Let her through, Clair," Gar called back tiredly.
Clair ignored him at first, her eyes shining with an amber glow, but ultimately, she relented, moving her slender arm aside.
Jenna slid past her cautiously and caught up with Gar, resting her head on his shoulder and muttering in his ear. "That woman is a sociopath by the way. You do know that right?"
"I am aware," Gar smiled softly. "How do you think I got these?" he asked, gesturing to the dry patches of cracked, burnt skin across his face and scalp.
"She didn’t…" Jenna gasped. She looked back; Clair was waving at her, taunting her.
"She did. I was all fixed up until Clair Selton came back into my life."
"I mean, I know Drury said, but I thought-"
"He’s being overdramatic, dear. It was all very consensual," Clair rolled her eyes at her.
As Joey climbed up the steps, he turned back to face Needham.
"You not coming?" he asked, perturbed.
"Nah, I should probably check in with Bats... Someone needs to explain... that," Needham stated. "Don't worry, I’ll let Brown know you’re safe. Or safe enough," he gestured to the doorway.
Joey nodded back, and followed the rest of the group inside.
Shortly afterwards, the trio were escorted into the living room. As they settled down on the suspiciously up-market furniture, Gar frowned, noting a still-attached price tag, and a sticker which read 'Display Only.' Jenna, tapped his knee affectionately, and rose to her feet. “I'll be right back," she promised, although there was a peculiar unease to her words. "I just need to hit the shower.”
"It’s upstairs," Clair gestured.
As she departed, Joey took her place at Gar's side, nudging his friend's ribs playfully (and forgetting that he had broken them not so long ago). "Psst, Gar, that sounds like your cue."
"Huh?" Gar grunted in response.
"Look, I’m no Blake, but seems to me like 'Hit the shower' is girl talk for, y’know, an invitation."
"Rigger… She’s hitting the shower, to wash off the blood of her last boyfriend."
Joey's playful smile faded. "Oh. I thought those were freckles."
"In her hair?"
~-~
The Misfits approached the Waterworks: a foreboding structure of rusted metal pipes and stone arches overlooking the Gotham Reservoir. The other members of the party kept their distance, while Sharpe marched towards the entrance and chapped the golden, dragon-shaped door knocker against the tall wooden door. There was a sound of shuffling from within, then the door creaked open, revealing the fearsome, hooded visage of Shiro Ito. The doctor was holding a wax candle, which sat on a round metal tray, illuminating his reptilian eyes.
"Montgomery?" Ito answered, his eyes softening as he recognised his late-night caller. “What brings you by so late? If you are looking for Cynthia, then I am afraid to say that she is in her room, no doubt gossiping with her friends; you know how children are... I was just about to watch my programme on the television.”
"Yeah, Doc, I figured," Sharpe nodded. In actuality, looking for ‘Cynthia’ was the last thing he wanted to do. "Thing is, my friends and I need a place to crash. Normally, you know, I’d just take them to my place, which is pretty bitchin’ by the way, but it’s only got the two bedrooms, and after the night I’ve had, I really don’t feel like sharing a duvet with Condom King."
"Montgomery, you know how I feel about your profanity…" Ito chided him.
"Shit, yeah, I forgot," Sharpe swore, already taking a crumpled dollar bill out of his pocket. "To make matters worse, a friend of mine, Blake; maybe you’ll remember him; he was the guy possessed by King of Cats before Gramps. And if you don’t, then you probably have Alzheimer’s. Which is fine and all, you are a hundred and y’look great on it, scales and all! But it’s probably worth mentioning at your next physical."
"You are rambling, Montgomery."
"Right- Anyway, he got stabbed. Another friend of mine, more an associate, acquaintance, to be honest, also got stabbed. What’re the odds? Well, pretty high given our line of work, I guess... You’ve met him too, I think. He’s called Ten. Cause of his fingers. ‘Course, most people have ten fingers but his are freakier... ahem Basically, I’d really appreciate it if you could help a guy out."
Ito mulled over Sharpe’s request, then looked down. "Montgomery, what happened to your trousers?" he asked, gesturing to his ripped jeans.
Sharpe’s brow furrowed. "My pants? That’s just the style!"
"No no no," Ito shook his head. "This won’t do at all. Please, allow me to stitch them for you."
The Dragon King placed his arm around Sharpe’s back, and before he could utter a single word of protest, he was escorted inside, the door closing behind them.
The minutes passed, and although the rest of the Misfits continued to wait patiently, Chuck was more skeptical, wondering if perhaps Sharpe had abandoned them, having been led astray by the Dragon King’s promises of freshly baked muffins and a warm bubblebath. A further two minutes later however, his fears were disproven, as the door opened once again, and Sharpe called out to them:
"It’s cool, you can come in!" he assured them, standing in the doorway, his cheeks a deep red. Incidentally, he wasn't wearing any pants, exposing his white underpants adorned with red and black suits.
Not privy to Ito's earlier offer, the Misfits approached the entrance tentatively, as their minds ran wild with speculation. Initially silent, Mayo addressed the elephant in the room with his usual tact. "Chancer, where are your pants?"
"Hey, let's not judge him," Blake determined, sticking up for his friend. "Who hasn't greased a few palms here and there?"
"Somehow, I doubt that his palms were the only things greased," Kuttler murmured dryly, as the group entered the building.
==Arkham Asylum==
"Among the suspects arrested tonight was former Gotham mayor, Drury Walker. In addition to tonight’s skirmish, Walker faces charges for his attack on the GCPD earlier this summer. Additionally, Abner Krill, for his complacency in the Arkham City disaster, and Ted Carson for the shootout in Gotham General have also been apprehended, alongside the notorious Calendar Man, who is believed to be the mastermind behind the attack.
Walker, known by some as The Killer Moth, is reportedly cooperating with authorities to-"
A boxing glove attached to a metal spring smashed through the TV screen, then retracted into the barrel of The Joker’s oversized gag gun.
"No," the clown stated, an uncharacteristic scowl stretching across his pale face. "The story can’t end like this: Not yet. There are so many loose threads! Incomplete character arcs! And it won’t. Not if I (and our readers) have anything to say about it!"
"Bah!" Crane scoffed, no stranger to the clown's odd tangents. "I grow tired of these games, Joker. You know as well as I that Zolomon could eliminate every one of those Misfits in one swoop. And yet, you sacrificed my Fearless formula so, what? The Calendar Man could feel included? Well now, we have no formula, no Polka Dot Man and not an ounce of progress made on your little pet project. Now, is the time to act.
Think! We have an opportunity here, to bring this city to its knees, and you are squandering it all over an irrational infatuation with Killer Moth! Have you considered the avenues that Billings’ illusion technology can open? The new wave of nightmares that we can craft for our victims?"
A fresh smile broke across the clown's face, as he strutted over to his wheelchair-bound accomplice.
"Tut tut tut... You’re still so narrow minded, Johnny Boy. Fear this, fear that... It's rather like you're fearful of trying something new!" Joker teased, tussling Crane's hat playfully.
"Theeeeeeee prooooofesssssssooooor hasavalid point," Zoom interjected, his arms folded.
"Thank you," Crane nodded appreciatively.
"ButIhave noooooo interest inconquestor reeeeeeeevenge. Walker isthe taaaaaaaarget. Andright nooooooow Waaaaaaaalker isonthe edge. Hecanbe moooooooulded intothis wooooooorld’s greatest heeeeeeeero oritsvilest villain, buttheother Misfits are a distraaaaaaaaction fromthat goaaaaaaaal. Andthatgoal caaaaaan onlybe birthed from traaaaaaagedy."
~-~
"Excuse me, Doctor Ito," Chuck asked. "Is there a toilet?"
"Of course," Ito nodded, pointing his wooden spoon in the direction of the farthest hallway. "Third door down."
At the ISA headquarters, Thomas Blake was watching the news broadcast on the Dragon King's television; an old, unsightly thing that didn't seem to have been replaced since the 1960s. Behind him, Mayo was helping Ito stir a pot of sauce on the equally outdated stovetop.
As Julian's mugshot appeared on the screen, he raised his glass, as though to honour his old friend. "Notorious..." he repeated glumly. "You finally got your wish, didn't you Jules..."
He took a gulp of his drink, and immediately spat it out, drenching the table in crimson liquid. “Dude, is this blood?!” he glared at Ito. All eyes were on the Dragon King now, who shrugged dismissively:
"You said you were thirsty."
"Not for blood!" Blake countered.
"Ah. My Cynthia is a fussy eater too."
~-~
"In other news, four bodies were recovered from a Sionis Industries facility in South Gotham. Commissioner James Gordon held a press conference earlier today."
"It is believed that this particular warehouse was being used as a staging area for a rival gang working to take over the False Face Society. Of the four bodies recovered tonight, three were high profile inmates at Blackgate Penitentiary. The fourth, a man we have identified as Henry Ferris, is believed to have been the ringleader of this attempted coup. It is our suspicion that the Black Mask, the current head of the Society, uncovered Ferris’ scheme and sent a hit squad to eliminate him."
"Here, I made you some tea," Clair announced, placing down a tray of three steaming mugs on the coffee table beside Gar and Joey.
Wise to Volcana's tricks, Gar swatted Joey’s hand away. “Don’t drink it, Rigger," he warned before tilting his head towards Clair. "Did you heat it with your hands again?" he asked, throwing her an accusative glare.
"Maybe," was Clair's response.
"You know that burns the ceramics. And our insides… Just use a kettle."
"The kettle takes too long," she shrugged.
"Like thirty seconds at most," Gar began to argue, only to be struck by a sudden realisation. "You don’t heat the showers yourself, do you?"
"Gar, do I really strike you as the kind of person that would mutilate your current girlfriend?" Clair teased.
Gar looked at her askance.
"Yes…?" Joey asked. "Absolutely, yes."
"Lord, I’m kidding," Clair pouted. "I’m not a monster."
==ISA Headquarters==
Chuck opened the second door, and as he stepped through, it was as though he had been transported to another world, and in some respects, he had been; the room seemed to go on for miles and miles and the walls were all painted in hues of greys. It was like Kansas, from the Wizard of Oz film; all swirling shadows and black masses, and it felt like he was being watched by a thousand eyes.
"Good evening," a voice spoke from the darkness. It was surprisingly eloquent; the accent was English, but old English, like a nobleman's or a duke's, or an aristocrat's. Its' owner, was standing several yards away, denoted by the slight glint from their sunglasses and the hint of a tall top hat. They appeared to be holding a white cup and saucer; the only things not caked in darkness.
"I was... looking for the toilet," Chuck spoke, the words finally finding him.
"Third door on the right. Thank you kindly," the voice instructed him. "It wouldn't do to get lost. Not in this dreadful place."
~-~
Blake wiped his mouth, and looked up from the table: Ito’s daughter, Cindy Burman, was awake now, and with her were three other girls her age, all dressed in baggy clothing that could almost be mistaken for prison uniforms, if not for their bright pink colouring.
"Speak of the Devil-Child," Sharpe sniggered.
"Cynthia? You should be sleeping," Ito stated, cocking his head to one side.
"Urgh, don’t we have any food in this house?" the girl complained, ignoring her father’s queries, as she opened the cupboard beside him and started raking through it.
"There is a carton of ice cream in the freezer," Ito relented.
"What, where you keep the severed heads?"
"I am well organised, Cynthia. The risk of cross contamination is minimal."
"You’re embarrassing me!" the girl squealed petulantly. "Let's go, gang, I'll order us a pizza since daddy clearly doesn't care if I starve!" Cindy exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in protest, and kicking the trashcan on her way out.
"Ahh, teenagers," Ito spoke wistfully. "To be seventeen again..."
"Uh, dude, I don’t think those girls are here willingly," Blake tapped Sharpe on the shoulder, leaning in closely so that Ito would not overhear them.
"Nah, come on!" he snorted. "It’s Ito, he’s cool."
"Is he... Is he going to turn them into lizards?" Bridget asked, as she too looked over at the girls with increasing concern.
"Dragons, babe. And only if they force his hand," Sharpe shrugged.
Not convinced, Blake raised his shirt up, and ran his finger across his fully healed knife wound. "Yeah, well, I don’t think my skin’s supposed to turn green like that."
Kuttler, rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by the Misfits' irreverent attitude. "Very well, if no one else will ask it, then I will: What do you intend to do with her?" he asked. The Misfits each turned to look at Bridget, who sat isolated at the end of the table.
"She saved my life," Ten vouched for her. "I would have bled out in those service tunnels if not for her."
"Yeah, but no offense, Ten, you’ll latch onto anyone who can stop you bleeding for a while," Sharpe countered.
"I actually take quite a bit of offense to that."
"And when next you’re stabbed, I’ll have you indebted to me with some gauze and a couple of bandages."
"Don’t worry," Bridget shook her head. "I’m not staying long. I... can’t. I have to pick up a few things from Uncle Jacob, after that I’m leaving town. For good." But even so, she sounded unsure.
"Where will you go?" Mayo asked.
"Doesn't matter. I just... need to be away from this city for a while. Away from the Carsons and Walkers of the world."
Ten scraped his chair along the floor and placed it at her side. "Perhaps it’s not my place... Perhaps, god forbid, Chancer is right, and I do just have a dependency, a complex, but you did save me. And when you defied your father, when you kept that virus out of his reach, even if it was just for a moment, I believe you saved us all."
Bridget scoffed, dismissing Reardon's revisionist account. "I didn’t save anyone... Hayden messed with my mind, took the vial."
"And moments before, Julian Day dug an axe into my shoulder and took that same vial from me. At the end of the day, he was stopped, and you helped. You want to know why I have faith in you? Because faith... Faith is all I am. And I believe it’s all part of a bigger picture. His picture. You might not think that’s the case, but you did make a difference tonight. In fact, I believe you still can. If you stay with us, if you put up with us: it’s going to be hard, it’s going to be, quite frankly exasperating, but it will be worth it in the end."
He offered Bridget a prosthetic hand. His mouth was dry in anticipation, worried about what she might say or do. But after a moment's hesitation, after weighing her options, she took it, and shook it firmly. It wasn't just a gesture, no, she understood Ten's offer and what it represented; it was a way to clear the board, and finally do something right. And just like that, all those past grievances; the fights... The Arkham Moth, the Society, Chronos... it was all settled with a handshake.
Chuck re-entered, a phone in his hand, and perhaps a little paler than he had been when he had left. "That was Eric; Gar and Joey got Jenna. They're all safe; they'll be staying at Volcana's for the time being. Did I miss something-?"
"That's funny. Thought you said they were safe," Sharpe smirked.
Camera: Cosina Voigtlander Bessa R3M
Lens: KMZ 50mm f1.5 Jupiter 3
Film: Fuji Neopan 100
Developer: Xtol
Scanner: Epson V600
Photoshop: Curves, Healing Brush (spotting)
Cropping: None
LF02 PVA was quite a famous bus when it started its life, heralded as Arriva's "bus of the future", a strapline it even carried on its bodysides. With 2+1 seating, armrests, and overhead luggage racks, it was intended to show off features which may become commonplace in later years.
It started off at Arriva Midlands, as fleet number 2200. It attended Showbus in 2002: www.flickr.com/photos/33216596@N02/4488804240/ photo by Steven Hughes. Note the plug type doors and rabbit ear mirrors.
I can't remember the details of what it did next, but it was at Southern Counties' Guildford depot by at least 30 May 2004, when it appeared at Guildford rail station on the Aldershot & District running day, by now as fleet number 6200. Still with rabbit ears, it was nicknamed "big ears" at Guildford. It was renumbered 3730, and stayed at Guildford for a few years, regular on the 4, 34 and 100 - it was well suited as a spare for the Guildford park and ride - indeed re-numbered into the same sequence - although not technically the same type of bus as the Volvo B7RLE/Wright Eclipse Urbans used on the P&R, this is the unpopular B7L/Wright Eclipse Metro combination.
It did have plug doors at Guildford for some time, but I think it was Guildford who eventually changed them to normal ones. It was definitely Guildford who changed the mirrors for normal ones. Here's a photo of it in 2005 on the 34: www.flickr.com/photos/33650137@N05/6009192727/ photo by John Law.
Sadly, five years later, when the new 91 Enviros arrived at Guildford, Bus of the Future left, along with the remaining East Lancs Spryte Darts, to other parts of Southern Counties.
3730 went to Northfleet for a short while, even managing to operate the Fastrack service!
It wasn't long though before it was transferred to Shires and Essex, renumbered as 3890. It went to Aylesbury, who put LEDs in it. That's where I saw the bus in July 2009.
Since then, it has been repainted into interurban livery, and transferred to Stevenage.
Aylesbury bus station, Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire.