#it auto equips gear instead of telling you about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bestfriendforhire · 3 years

Text

Children of BFFH, Entry 114

“Are you sure about this?” asked Messy, her character surveying the necropolis beneath us.

Four let out a small laugh before saying, “No, but we don’t have a better plan. Every undead creature we have fought in here is Evil, so I can’t imagine there being a better spot to lure the Jaggagawaroeth.”

“I like the plan. Sure, we’ll probably all die and have to fight our way in here to recover whatever equipment survives—unless Messy is willing to teleport to save our stuff again—but we’ll also bear witness to one of the craziest fights the game has seen in years!” I assured them, knowing that neither the Jaggagawaroeth nor the undead of the Necropolis would go down without a fight.

“How long before it gets here?” asked Asp nervously. His character was peering over the roof’s edge of the building we had cleared out, shining greatsword in hand.

“Might want to back up or put that away, Asp. Your sword’s a bit easy to notice.” I warned him, though his wings were also pretty noticeable here if they could be seen from the ground below us. “As for time…”

“A real life hour.” responded Doc, who had volunteered to sneak out of the Necropolis and watch the Jaggagawaroeth’s approach. Her estimate would be good.

Fighting into the necropolis hadn’t actually been too terrible. Most of the footsoldiers and archers were weak skeletons. Their only advantage was numbers. The one skeleton commander we had fought could take a hit, but Rona had managed to hold it in place with her magic until it was destroyed by Layla.

Valeria’s character was a bit problematic here. Yes, she amplified the vampires beyond what even the unholy ground was doing for them, but the skeletons grew stronger when they approached her. We wanted to avoid seeing what enemy vampires, liches, or worse might do within her aura if possible, so she was doing her best to keep it small. The unholy ground amplified her powers as well, so the aura kept trying to expand.

Simply waiting was boring, so I opted for tedious and boring instead, using and reusing my non-combat spells to help maintain the balance between all types of magic. As with most powerful titles, there were few people with the Wizard title in Ancient Tribes of Earth, at least going by the player estimates on forums. Auntie Aaliyah refused to give actual numbers out, even for us.

By the time I realized the ground was shaking, I had cleaned the area of all filth, adjusted the ambient temperature several times, made and unmade numerous tiny pocket dimensions, read and reread the few books in this building through an auto-learning spell, levitated the tableware into a large variety of patterns, and played with the lighting in as many ways as I could manage. I was definitely ready for combat. Luckily, even extensive use of my utility spells barely used my mana.

The Jaggagawaroeth was visible in the distance and obviously approaching the city. Even the undead noticed. After Doc joined us, our group took turns on the roof, spying on the necropolis’ preparations to fight the incoming beastie. Instead of just minor skeletons manning the wall, a large contingent of zombies joined them. There were also skeletons as tall as houses, large lizard-like zombies, and a host of beings too covered in gear to really tell what was wearing them.

“This should be entertaining, shouldn’t it.” stated Father, who had appeared out of nowhere behind me. Sensing him was always a little odd. His body gave off heat that I could detect, but I couldn’t actually sense him directly at all through my magic.

“Do you approve of the plan then?” questioned Four, hopefully.

“We both do.” stated Mother, who was on the floor above us, probably here to watch as well.

To my surprise, several of the other parents were coming down the stairs as well.

“Is everyone going to watch us play?” I asked, feeling a little nervous at the thought.

“Oh, yes. Who would want to miss this?” asked Father with a kind smile. “Mila’s projecting various screens throughout the household, so we don’t all have to squeeze together between the two rooms.”

“But… we’ll probably die.” I told him with a frown.

He shrugged. “Ancient Tribes of Earth isn’t a game anyone, save for its creator, plays without an occasional death, but choosing such a magnificent death can be very worthwhile.” he encouraged, smiling again.

Despite what was happening, I found myself relaxing, which was probably Father’s presence affecting me. He wouldn’t be nervous at a time like this. I doubted Father had really felt nervous for a very long time.

When the Jaggagawaroeth was in reach of the archers, who fired enormous volleys at the creature, it jumped, clearing the height of the volleys with ease. Luckily, it didn’t seem to know exactly where we were yet, or we would have been crushed like all of the homes that had been where it landed. The ground shook hard enough that several of our characters fell over, including mine.

As the undead started attacking again, heedless of risk to life or limb, the Jaggagawaroeth went wild. A relatively small chunk of the sprawling city was gone in an instant when the Jaggagawaroeth swung its massive tail. Each step flattened scores of undead, and it didn’t seem to mind eating them either.

“Maybe we should retreat. This isn’t working.” I stated, certain that the undead hadn’t even managed to slow the Jaggagawaroeth.

“Just wait.” stated Father, sounding amused.

I didn’t have to wait long. A very, very large skeletal dragon can swooping in from the giant castle and over twenty beings that had to be liches drifted off its back as it swooped around, breathing out lightning on the Jaggagawaroeth, which was actually noticed. The Jaggagawaroeth actively tried avoiding the lightning, crushing more buildings as it rolled. As impressive as that attack had seemed, the Jaggagawaroeth barely looked injured from it.

Bright, blue light shot between the liches and runes formed in the air clear across the giant circle, which seemed to focus on the remaining lich who rode the dragon.

“Father, is this…” started Four, sounding as impressed as I felt.

“Yes, this is similar to the raid magic we use these days. I’d guess several of those liches would give my character a run for his money. The leader is probably a raid boss himself.” suggested Father.

For the Jaggagawaroeth’s part, it jumped to the side, shattering even more buildings, but that wasn’t enough to save it from the pale white beam shrouded in wifts of darkness that shot forth from the circle’s center. The Jaggagawaroeth howled in pain as part of its skin sloughed off, looking rotted where the beam had touched. Unfortunately for the undead, I could see the Jaggagawaroeth regenerating already. The beast leapt into the air, biting a member of the circle from his place, though a globe of protective magic had sprung up around the caster.

The Jaggagawaroeth jumped again and the liches shot off in different directions while the dragon swept in and raked its claws along the Jaggagawaroeth’s hide, peeling away bits of skin. The dragon’s tail shattered when the Jaggagawaroeth’s tail met it with a rapid blow. Unlike how the Jaggagawaroeth regenerated, the dragon’s tail reformed, shattered pieces flying through the air after it to reconnect to its body.

The battle continued for several minutes as we watched in amazement. Instead of trying an enormous attack again, the liches had split into several smaller circles, still creating large spells to strike the beast. The leader on the dragon’s spells seemed almost as large as those of the circles by himself. Still, the undead were gradually losing numbers to the Jaggagawaroeth. It would win.

“Valeria, don’t you think it’s about time to help them out?” asked Mother, her voice coming through from Valeria’s mic.

When Valeria’s character reached the rooftop, a giant dome of red light shot out from her, stretching hundreds of feet, maybe even a thousand. Her light still didn’t reach the battle. She wasn’t strong enough.

I nearly panicked when the skeletal dragon dived toward us, but Father rested his hand on my shoulder while telling everyone it’s alright. When the lich on top of the dragon reached his hand out to my friend, she accepted and was pulled onto the dragon’s back. They flew back into the battle before the Jaggagawaroeth chased the lich.

Bathed in the light of Valeria’s character, Felice, the liches’ magic was obviously stronger. Beams of energy that had been several feet in diameter were now over twenty. The first breath of lightning from the dragon tore most of the Jaggagawaroeth’s leg off. To my surprise, the Jaggagawaroeth actually looked scared. The beast leapt toward the wall, slamming and shattering a barrier that sprung in front of it, but the barrier had slowed its momentum. The liches weren’t so forgiving as to let this intruder escape.

“Ladies, gentlemen, I would join in this fight too if I were you, though I’d keep a healthy distance.” suggested Father with a smile for us.

“But.. they’re Evil!” protested Layla through the mics.

“Not all of them, and you’ll want them to know you’re on their side if you want to survive this.” he assured her, guiding his voice through my mic with a spell rather than leaning down.

Layla still seemed to hesitate, but she joined us when I made a temporary bridge from rooftop-to-rooftop until some of us were in range with our longest attacks. I knew we weren’t safe. The Jaggagawaroeth could easily swat us if it charged us, but the liches had its undivided attention now, despite lesser undead swarming over its tail and getting crushed whenever the beast moved.

To my great surprise, every circle of liches suddenly attacked at the same time, targeting the Jaggagawaroeth’s with smaller versions of that spell which had rotted its body. The leader dived, jumping from his dragon when the Jaggagawaroeth managed to swat it. The leader dove into the hole created by his brethren and the Jaggagawaroeth shuddered. For a long moment there was silence, and then the Jaggagawaroeth’s body seemed to zombify. To my horror, we had given the undead a Jaggagawaroeth puppet, and Father had allowed this.

#Children of BFFH #Children #of #BFFH #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

2 notes · View notes

crsinclair · 5 years

Text

Enter Eraser

FINALLY I have the next installment for What a Villain Deserves. This piece takes place pretty much directly after Cliché Hero Versus Villain, which was mostly Present Mic being confused. In this one we only see our beloved Eraserhead for a small bit, but we learn a LOT about him!

“Ah, Thanks for coming, Present Mic.”

Hizashi gave Tsukauchi a smile. “Not a problem! Though I wasn't really expecting to get a call about this,” he said, nodding his head towards the back of the station. More specifically, the interrogation rooms.

Tsukauchi gave him a tired smile. “Honestly, we weren't expecting to be calling you, either.”

Hizashi raised a brow at that, frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. What exactly did that mean? When the detective directed him towards his office instead of the back rooms, the confusion he felt only grew. The two of them walked down the hall, a few officers stopping to greet the two of them before Tsukauchi was closing the door to his little office and directing the Hero to take a seat. “So, why did you call me? Other than the fact that I'm cool.”

“Coffee?” the detective asked after he was done chuckling, moving to help himself to the coffee machine he kept in the corner of his office.

“Ah, sure, thanks.” Alright, not getting an answer to his question right away. Got it.

Tsukauchi nodded and pulled out a spare mug and got to pouring. “It took a bit, but we managed to get some indentification off the villain,” he started explaining, turning around to place a steaming mug in front of Hizashi along with a container holding packets of sugar and creamer. “Very smart of him to burn his fingerprints.”

“That doesn't last forever, though,” Hizashi said as he started dumping in as many creamers as he could into the mug.

“True – from what our specialists could tell, he burns his fingerprints off regularly.” Tsukauchi sat down in his chair with a small sigh of relief, clutching his own mug close to him. “Plus he wears gloves, keeps his hair bound, face covered, and from his equipment we've been able to tell he's very, very thorough in getting blood stains cleaned up. He's been avoiding law enforcement for a long time.”

Hizashi hummed, dumping in several packets of sugar into his mug. “So who is this guy?”

Tuskauchi took a sip of his coffee and pulled the folder on top of the stack closest to him open. “Aizawa Shouta. 30 years old, lives alone in a small apartment complex in Musutafu, job title he has down in his apartment application as 'freelance contractor',” he says dryly.

Hizashi rolled his eyes. “I guess that's one way to describe villainy.”

A smile flit across Tsukauchi's face. He turned his eyes towards the information in the folder, skimming the lines. “We got a team to check out where he lives,” he continued, pausing to take another sip. “We're pretty sure half the apartment was dedicated to his equipment.”

“Well, I've got a room at home for just my Hero gear.”

“Mic, I'm not exaggerating.” Tsukauchi tugged some pictures out of the folder and slid them across the desk for Hizashi to look at. “I mean that he had a single sleeping bag for furniture, some juice and jelly packets in the fridge, some hygiene products, and then the rest of his entire home was covered in various tools and equipment.”

Hizashi's eyebrows shot up as he leaned forward to take a look at the pictures. Indeed, there was a single sleeping bag next to a window, and then shelf after shelf after storage cabinet stuffed full of all sorts of things. Knives, caltrops, poisons, lockpicks – so many lockpicks – what Hizashi could only assume were smoke bombs, and many more tools crammed into what looked to be a very small apartment. “Well then.” He cleared his throat. “Half of his apartment dedicated to his, ah, career choice.”

“There were also a number of cats,” Tsukauchi said.

“...Cats.”

“Cats.” Tsukauchi shook his head. “We had to call in animal control to get all the cats out of the apartment. Fifteen in total.”

“Fifteen cats?”

Tsukauchi tossed him a grin. “Fifteen cats.”

The grin slid off his face after a moment, giving him a serious look. He leaned forward, placing his coffee to the side to pull another picture out of the folder. “My team also found these in his apartment.”

He slid the picture over. Hizashi squinted at the detective, confused, and peered down at the small photo. With a single look, staring at the object depicted, the Hero knew exactly why he'd been called into the precinct to have a chat with Tsukauchi about this particular villain.

“Hey,” he laughed, a little anxious but doing his best to not let it show. “You guys found my headphones. Nice.”

“Mic, can you tell me why your headphones were in with his equipment?” Tsukauchi asked, folding his hands together in a calm steeple.

Hizashi cracked a grin. “Oh, come on, you really gonna question me about that?” When the detective simply blinked at him, he sighed. “Okay, you are...

“Look, it's nothing big. Nothing to worry about, really.” He shrugged, swirling the coffee in his mug and doing his best to calm his nerves. Because this wasn't something he needed to worry about. 'Just tell the truth and you'll be fine,' he thought to himself.

Yeah, because the cops thinking he had some sort of connection with a Villain that had a known connection with a group that wanted All Might dead was totally fine.

“I've had a few run-ins with this Villain while on patrol,” Hizashi explained. “Never managed to catch him – can't tell if it's because I haven't been on patrol in a while or if he's just a slippery bastard – and during one of our encounters he stole my headphones. That's all.”

Tsukauchi stared at him for a moment longer, one of his fingers tapping over the knuckles of his opposite hand, and then relaxed. Hizashi could feel the tension drain from his own shoulders seeing Tsukauchi pick his coffee up again. “Really? You've never managed to get him? Wouldn't your quirk make it so most people can't even crawl away?”

Hizashi pouted. “Normally, yeah, but. I dunno, Tsukauchi, I think it has something to do with his quirk.”

“Ah, yes.” Tsukauchi shuffled a few of the papers in the folder around until he found the one he was looking for. “According to his file, he's got a quirk called 'Erasure'. It allows him to erase the quirk of anyone within sight, so long as he doesn't blink.”

Hizashi hummed at that. “Interesting. Man, if he'd been a hero that would be dead useful against Villains using their quirks against civilians.”

“Well, now he's using it to take down Heroes,” Tsukauchi said.

“Wait, really?” Hizashi frowned. Well, sure, the guy was hanging out with the League of Villains, which couldn't be good news. The League of Villains, who brought a Noumu to a school field trip and attempted to murder the number one hero and nearly killed him. But during any of his encounters on patrol the man hadn't really done anything...villainous. Nothing extreme anyway, if one didn't count fighting a Hero and stealing from him as villainous.

Tsukauchi nodded. “After we managed to identify him and get his information, we ran the few things we had through records to see if perhaps there were any matches for crimes or other incidents.” He reached for another folder and flipped it open. “Nothing recently up until the other day when we caught him, but his hair matches perfectly with evidence found in unsolved cases that other precincts and mine have been trying to get leads on for years.”

Hizashi's mouth ran dry, looking down at the folder the detective was flipping through. It was...thick. “Years.”

“Yep. And what with him showing to regularly burn away his prints and the careful way he seems to keep traces his his presence away from scenes, I'd wager that there are many, many more crimes he's been apart of.” Tsukauchi frowned down at the folder. “With this information, we've been able to link him to heists, grand-theft auto, severe battery, kidnappings, murder...”

Hizashi felt his blood run cold. The mug in his hand was warm, but with this new information he could barely tell. Murder. Kidnapping. Years. This man, who'd been casually pranking him over the past several weeks during patrols, had murdered people.

Hizashi was a Hero. He's seen some pretty messed up people. Villains with bombs strapped to their chests and threatening to blow up a mall. Villains madly laughing as they slaughter the innocent people in front of them. Villains diving into the sewers to get away after brutally beating a Hero within an inch of their life.

But...

“No. We're not hurting the kids.”

It was hard to picture the man who had saved Asui's life as someone who could take another's.

The phone on Tuskauchi's desk rang once before the detective picked it up. “Tsukauchi.”

Hizashi listened numbly as the detective talked business with whoever was on the other line, sipping distractedly at his over-sweet coffee. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about what he'd just learned. It was like the person in the files was a separate person from the asshole he'd kept running into on patrols. If they were the same person, then that meant that this Aizawa was...well, it meant that Aizawa had a soft spot for kids, for one. Maybe?

Man, he felt more confused about all of this than he'd been before running into the man the first time on the streets.

“Mic?” Hizashi jerked his head up and found Tsukauchi standing from his desk. “I was going to go watch Aizawa being questioned. Would you like to join me?”

“Uh, sure. Why not, right?” He raised the mug. “Mind if I take this with me?”

“Not at all. This way.”

The walk back to the interrogation rooms was a short one. Hizashi waved at the officers in the halls, both to be polite and to get his head on straight again. The past few minutes had been weird, and he didn't like how all the new information was conflicting with what he'd observed himself. Better to smile and be cheerful to get himself back together than dwell on it too much.

Of course, given that he'd heard all this new info and it was conflicting for him, Hizashi really should have thought about how actually seeing the man in question would affect him.

The viewing room for interrogations was dark, an officer sitting at the computer in there nodding at the two of them when they walked in. Hizashi heard the woman say something about how she wasn't expecting a Pro to come in, but he wasn't paying attention. His eyes were looking through the one way mirror at the man sitting alone at the table in the other room.

Aizawa Shouta.

Long dark hair feel in messy waves around a scruffy, tired face, body slumped boredly in the chair. His hands were cuffed to the table, a finger tapping occasionally on the wooden surface in no rhythm in particular. The man had been put into a clean uniform, orange on white – a prisoners uniform. And two dark eyes, bloodshot and bags underneath them, were staring unerringly at the mirror.

Hizashi couldn't help feel like those eyes were staring straight at him.

'Unnerving.' But he shook it off, jerking back to the conversation happening around him and greeting the officer with a smile and a handshake. “So! Are we ready to get this show on the road?”

Tsukauchi smiled. “I'll tell them to get started.”

Within just a couple minutes an officer walked into the other room, files under one arm and face impassive. Hizashi stood behind where the detective took a seat, idly sipping at his coffee and watched the interrogation begin. Old case after old case were shown and explained to Aizawa, and charge after charge were piled up in front of him as well. It seemed never ending. And the more time went on, the more Hizashi watched, the more he could tell that the man sitting cuffed to the table? Was barely paying attention.

He frowned, tilting his head and pursing his lips. The man was basically going to be in prison for life, maybe the next ten lives if he was lucky, and he was just...sitting there? Hizashi liked to think he was pretty good at reading people – he had to be, as a teacher and a Pro and as an entertainer – and the vibes coming off this guy were not that of a villain that knew he was caught. He legitimately didn't seem to care. He seemed bored, like this whole interrogation was a waste of his time.

How could a man charged with all these things not care about the turn his life was about to take?

For a moment, Hizashi debated saying anything. But it wouldn't leave him alone. He stepped forward, turning his eyes down to look at the detective sitting just in front of him“Hey, Tsukauchi, I don't think – “

“Wait a second, what's he doing?”

Hizashi snapped his eyes back to Aizawa. Who was now angling his head down just a bit, as if he had something stuck in his back teeth and was trying to get at with his tongue. Why would he – “Oh, shit, Tsukauchi, get a medic in there now!”

Aizawa tilted his head back up, smirking, and said his first words in the room to the confused officer with him. “They call me Eraser.”

And then he swallowed.

Hizashi could only watch with wide eyes as chaos happened around him. Aizawa started convulsing, officers and medics swarmed the room, and everyone was shouting. The interrogation was forgotten. Aizawa was pulled onto a stretcher and carried swiftly out. No one was sure why the man had done it. It all happened so fast, and all he could do was stare in shock.

Eraser.

Somehow, no matter what happened next...Hizashi had a sinking feeling he'd be seeing the man again.

#wavd #ravyn writes #what a villain deserves #erasermic #dialogue heavy in this one #yamada hizashi #present mic #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #bnha #yyyyyyeah he's done some very serious shit #next installment will actually be from shouta's pov #eeeee #why is this concussion so good for getting things written???

49 notes · View notes

yggdrasil-mith0s · 5 years

Text

Tales of Arise Multiplayer

I have seen a few people in the fandom claim they won't get the game if it doesn't have local multiplayer. I think it will, though it isn't confirmed. People are speculating that it won't. Even if it doesn't, I don't have friends so it won't bother me lol. That being said, I hope it does to keep people interested and increase sales.

There's also 5 ways they could do multiplayer that I thought about. The first being the traditional local multiplayer. Here's 4 more.

Here me out on this next part: online multiplayer.

It could work. There could be a few ways to incorporate online multiplayer.

1.)One would be creating a simple versus. You can choose a character, set up what Artes you want to use, and battle people on the internet with attacks. It would be exciting and fun, especially with how Tales battle systems work. It would be like a Street Fighter extreme lol. A 3D streetfighter. Just increase the health and it works. That would be really fun, especially with all the Artes and ways to create combos!

2.) create something like FF did and make it a small open field and make it to where up to 8 people can join and instead of the traditional combat zone, it's the entire field, and certain Artes reach farther with a bit of auto aim, like a guided demon fang, and then close combat takes off significantly more health! Maybe create a teams option, too!

3.) Another way would be like the traditional local multiplayer where if someone just wants to enjoy the story and another person just wants a friend they can invite someone to play with them. The host does all the work and the other is there for the story and battle just like local multiplayer but online so they don't have to be on the same system! Then you can play with friends! I would be interested in that and wouldn't mind watching and waiting for battles while I am talking to them on the mic!! I mean... A bunch of people watch streamers as it is. So it's pretty much like an interactive streamer lol. You watch but get to talk to them and participate in battles!

4.) Lastly the story line. Maybe like Gears of war, sort of. You have the main player, the host, and then another player, up to three (a full party), that follows within a certain distance. Even if it was locked to where everyone had to be on the same screen, have the host have the option to boot. Just in case someone goes afk or doesn't cooperate. Then any player can start an encounter. Anyone can talk to an NPC and it either shows up on the individual screen. If it's important of funny, they can tell everyone on mic to talk to them. As for shopping and equipment, it's based on the host's current online playthrough. Online playthroughs are seperate from single player. It's done by chapters as well. So anyone who has completed chapter 3 can join a chapter 4 game that a host has created. The host is I'm charge of items and equipment but can have the option to give battle item use to certain players. Also, as long as a character is available, you can choose what character you want to be when joining a game. I think I pretty much covered everything. So if you complete chapter 4 and 5 on multiplayer with someone you can join a new chapter 6 later on or go back to.any chapter beforehand if no one is starting a new chapter six. And if someone leaves, someone else can join as long as the host has it open and accepts them to enter. It sounds a bit confusing but it's really not.snd could actually work quite smoothly and done correctly. I just don't think there is a big enough demand for them to create servers but I would definitely join someone else who is hosting and provide support. And when it comes to cutscenes, everyone sees it at the same time. As long as the host enters the area for the cutscenes or boss battle, it begins. Other games have done similar stuff so it could actually work out pretty easily and pretty well.

Who would be interested in a multiplayer like that? I know I would. Then I could host games and invite you all to come find me or invite you and we could play together! Make it a worldwide thing, too. Even if you speak different languages. Maybe have a region or language choice when searching and the host can choose whether to region lock it or not. Honestly that would be super awesome! I would actually join a lot of multiplayer games. I would also host games and invite everyone here to come join. Then you can also play with friends you have or make new friends and play through the whole game together if you wanted! I'm sure that you start off with just two players or one so maybe have multiplayer unlock once you get to then point in the game where you have two more more players in battle. Even if it was just a duo multiplayer to start, I would actually try it out and enjoy it. I know it's far-fetched and sounds a bit complicated but it's actually not complicated at all..the hardest part would be creating a spot to start multiplayer options.

3 notes · View notes

mohini-musing · 5 years

Text

Through the valley of the gun

Squib Load: A squib load, also known as a squib round, or just a squib, is a firearm malfunction in which a fired projectile does not have enough force behind it to exit the barrel, and thus becomes stuck.

( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squib_load )

~~~

Sand, heat, smoke everywhere.

Someone’s yelling, the guy next to him is firing off shots and then there’s an ominous pop. Pop is bad. Really, really bad in a rapidly firing weapon. The barrel of the thing blows in a wave of heat and flame.

Fucking squib, someone’s saying, and all James can think of is why in hell they’re talking about non-magical people in the fucking desert where there’s no air and no safety and he’s going to die here before he gets a chance to apologize to Tasha for bailing on her.

His hand is gripping what is no longer flesh when he hears Steve’s voice over the roaring blood in his ears.

“You with me?”

He blinks, struggling to focus on the concerned face in front of him. His throat is dry and sticky at the same time, nausea bubbling in his gut as the realization that he’s had what amounts to a flashback during what should be a fun little firearms practice session with Steve takes hold.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know there was one stuck in the barrel,” Steve’s offering, and James drags in enough of a breath to answer him before he gets going on a more babbling attempt.

“Squib,” he rasps. “S’called a squib.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know there was a squib, then,” Steve corrects. His hand is on James’ shoulder and what might usually be reassuring pressure is overwhelming. He shrugs away from the contact, cringing at the soft exhalation he knows is meant to be a sound of reassurance but feels like apocalyptic judgement.

“It’s the pop,” James murmurs. “You have to listen for it, bulges the barrel if you send one home after.”

Steve’s nodding, and it’s then that some helpful employee in black cargos and boots comes into the shooting bay.

“Need a hand with anything?” he asks. James clocks the openly carried Sig on the guy’s belt and remembers that Tasha likes this range because it’s well watched from camera rather than physical employee presence. Someone saw him strip the gun from Steve’s grip before he hit the back wall and accompanying bit of floor on a monitor. He’s suddenly really hoping that there isn’t an auto-recording for the footage. He doubts that, though. It would be sheer idiocy not to have record of what goes on back here. For any of a thousand reasons. Jumpy vets are probably the least of the potential threats.

“Squib round,” James tells him, trying to sound calm and failing spectacularly.

“Those are a right bitch,” the guy replies, “There are squib rods in the supply cabinet. I’ll bring y’all one.”

James nods, the guy’s drawl putting him on edge. He’s usually unnerved by that inflection, tied as it is in his experiences to people more likely to spit on him or cross to the other side of the street to avoid being too close to men holding hands than they are to offer assistance without mentioning that he’s sweating, well, bullets, after what ought to be a mildly annoying equipment malfunction.

The promised metal rod and accompanying mallet are placed quietly on the ledge of the shooting bay window, next to the weapon that’s still pointing downrange, a magazine inside and the inadequately propelled round lurking somewhere in the barrel.

Training takes him through the motions, dropping the magazine, double checking that the chamber is fully cleared, before stripping the slide off and easing out the barrel. A few taps on the squib rod and the bullet pings onto the wooden surface of the ledge. It seems such an innocuous thing there, just a lump of jacketed lead.

“Where’d you serve, brother?” the guy asks, and it’s all James can do not to jump at the voice he’d forgotten to expect nearby.

He hates that question. Forces himself to breath in and out slowly before answering. He looks into the guy’s earnest face and notices the unit emblem inked onto a muscled forearm. Ah, that explains it.

“Here and there,” James tells him, not interested in playing the reminiscing game.

“Ah, feel you on that,” comes the reply. The guy takes the hint and skips out on any further questions.

Steve is standing by, watching the exchange and clearly ready to step in if needed. James finds it endearing, that mother hen attitude that he would consider irritating beyond comprehension in any other human. Maybe not Tasha, but beyond those two souls, definitely not okay.

“Thanks for the tools,” James tells the guy as he hands them back. He sets to work examining the barrel, pulling a cleaning kit from his range bag and wiping it down, the smooth slide in and out with the cleaning rod assuring him that the interior didn’t suffer any damage. Reassembly takes seconds, and he stows it carefully in the lined carrying case before zipping the lot into the range bag.

Steve takes the hint and puts the rest of the gear away. James wants to think he can finish out their planned time for the afternoon, but he knows it’s going to do more harm than good to pretend that all is well. He can still hear his heart hammering in his ears, and his knees haven’t quite returned to completely solid matter.

It’s habit, but unnerving just the same, when they leave the range walking just far enough apart to look like they aren’t a couple. Steve’s comfortable holding hands anywhere they are, but James can’t convince himself it’s safe in a place where the good old boys are carrying loaded weapons. Folding himself into the car is enough to melt whatever self-control pulled him out of the worst of the panicky aftereffects to begin with. His breath is too shallow, too fast, and he can’t do anything about it. Steve’s hand wraps around his forearm for a fraction of a second before the car is moving.

“Tash? Hey, you home?” Steve is speaking into his phone, pressed between shoulder and ear as he pilots the car with one hand and keeps the other barely touching James’ clenched fist.

The roaring pulse in his ears is too loud to catch much more of the conversation, but Tasha’s there when they pull into the driveway, yanking the range bag from the backseat and hauling it into the house so that Steve can come around and pull him to his feet. He shuffles inside, his feet barely under his control until he collapses onto the couch. There’s a feathery touch on his lower lip and he opens his mouth enough for Tasha to give him whatever it is she has. Valium, probably. Maybe a Xanax. Hopefully not anything stronger, but he’s not inclined to complain either way. Next up is the comforting, familiar scent of her shampoo as she sits beside him and rests her head on his shoulder, taking the arm that isn’t his in her hands. She’s the only person on the planet who treats the prosthetic as though it’s not the least bit unusual.

“Talk to me?” she asks.

“Flashback,” he mutters.

“No shit. About what, dumbass?”

“There was a squib. Blew up like a firework. Part of it nailed me, knocked me out cold for a minute.”

“Mmhmm,” she encourages. Tasha doesn’t let him get away with leaving out the relevant parts of stories. She’s not looking for tales of glory. She’s looking for the shit he doesn’t always trust Steve to hear without making the pity noises.

“Killed a kid. Took half his face off,” James tells her in a voice that’s more breath than vocalization.

There. It’s out there. The memory of tacky blood that wasn’t his is visceral. Not that it’s an isolated one. He couldn’t put a number to the times he’s been on the front end of finding out how long it takes for blood to coagulate on skin - or clothes, or anything else, really - in desert heat. The sticky feeling in the back of his throat makes another appearance, and he swallows hard against it.

“Steve? Gonna need a bucket,” Tasha calls out, and James wants to tell her he’s just fine, thank you very much, but he isn’t and he’s equal parts grateful and embarrassed that she knows it.

There’s a plastic trash bin shoved hastily into his lap and Tasha’s hand is on the back of his neck, guiding him toward it as the sticky, scratchy need to cough morphs rapidly into a body clenching shudder that brings up a rush of acid and partially digested lunch. Tasha’s patting him now, a hand thudding slowly between his shoulder blades as he hacks and gags on thick mucus and spits desperately. The rushing, pounding pulse in his ears is back, but it hardly matters because all he can think of is that he doesn’t want to pass out and choke.

“Breathing’s a good idea,” Tasha’s telling him, and he gasps in an attempt to obey. He gags instead, bile warm on his chin because he doesn’t have enough functional control over his body to lean over the bin.

There’s something swiping the slimy mess away, and Steve’s rough fingers should feel comforting but they don’t. They’re too much like the medic who shook him and demanded he tell him where he was. He tries to explain, but he just retches dryly instead. He’s empty, but his body doesn’t care.

“Leave him, Steve. Jesus. You’re not helping here,” Tasha’s growling and then it’s small, spindly fingers trailing over his face again, no comparisons to anywhere but here to worry about with her. She’s definitely, absolutely not a memory from war. Or at least not that war.

“Jamie,” she’s whispering, and the diminutive is sweet when it’s normally irritating. He’s tired, and scared, and the only thing he really wants is sleep. There’s another brush of her fingers against his lips, and another papery tablet pressed on the tip of his tongue. He swallows, beyond even guessing what she’s giving him. Anything is better than this. One of her tiny bottles is up next, the bite of vodka sharp against his acid roughened throat. Even that is grounding, though. There wasn’t vodka in the desert. Or at least not the slightly vanilla flavored variety Tasha prefers when she’s not drinking for pain.

There are more tablets, more sips of vodka, and eventually the comfortable, heavy sensation of his brain closing up shop for the night. The last fuzzy thought that tumbles through his awareness is that he hopes Tasha knows how much the hangover is going to suck when the chemical cuddle blanket wears off. The thought turns out to have been verbalized.

“Duh. I’ve got shit for that too, dumbass. Sleep. We’ll deal.”

#marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #amputee bucky #hurt/comfort #emeto #firearms #flashbacks #panic attack #drug use #chasing ghosts universe #au-foster care siblings #alcohol

18 notes · View notes

omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years

Text

11: Blood for the Blood God

“John, you are approaching your destination.” “I can see that. Turn off the thrusters.” “Turning off the thrusters, John.” The craft’s frame creaked as it came to a stop. But there is no stopping really in space. The large blueish orb pulled him closer and closer. The visor of his helmet slid open with a light press on the side of it. John wanted a unobstructed look. He had been trying to get back to here for months now. And now here he was. “This planet is surrounded by asteroids. As your vehicle, I recommend that you not take me through this, John.” The pilot looked above at a flashing panel accompanied by a few switches. His gloved hand flicked them all downward. The computers chimed as if in protest. “Those are technically this planet’s moon. Or I guess was. It’s a security measure.” “They are technically very large rocks that are orbiting around this planet.” He pressed one last button on a console on the armrest of his chair. “You’re disengaging auto-pilot, John.” “I am.” “This is not advisable.” “Well, are you going to take me through this?” The chunks of rock were of varying size and John actually had no clue on how to control this ship. He had purchased this one-man, from the looks of it a decommissioned fighter, from a cheeky fellow who seemed very anxious to get rid of it. It was very possible that it wasn’t the man’s to sell in the first place. He had shown him one thing and that was how to turn on auto-pilot and all he would have to do is tell the computer what he wanted to do and it would obey. John had to get away, though. There was something inviting about the isolation of this all. He had certainly tried to do it their way. It was all too loud and he was missing something. No one paid him any attention here. Or if they did it was the wrong type. He was nobody. The idea of being someone frightened him very much now. He had given her, fast asleep at this moment, one last cursory look before disappearing into the ether. The colony was vast and it was a simple act to ghost. The guilt bubbled within him but the idea of being who he was supposed to be took precedent. “No, John, I will not.” “Then what use are you?” “I am controlling the air that you breathe, John.” John conceded, “Alright. But I am going to land this ship if its the last thing I do.” He tapped on the side of his helmet once more and it closed shut. The slick and streamlined bodysuit he was wearing was like a self contained ecosystem and so if the computer here were to fail, he’d still be able to function. Although, John posited, if the computer were to fail and start defying him he’d perhaps have more pressing issues. He slid the chair closer to the operating console in front of him. He wrapped both hands around the the L-shaped arms jutting out from the center wheel. John had messed with it before taking flight. It didn’t just spin, it pushed forward and backward and up and down. He pressed a button on the side of one of the wheel’s arms. “John, you just engaged the landing gear.” “How am I supposed to know that? Nothing is labeled here.” He pressed it again. The legs at the bottom of the craft retracted back within. “That is false. If you consult the owner’s manual, everything here is labeled standard.” “I don’t have the manual.” “I have it right here.” The dormant screen on the console illuminated with a litany of scrolling information. “This is just binary code!” “I can read it just fine,” the screen blinked multiple times, “One moment.” “It’d be much easier if you’d just navigate through this for me, you know that, right?” “Consult this screen, John.” He could finally read it. The thrusters he turned off earlier were controlled mere inches from the landing gear release. “Who designed this ship?!” “I was designed by—“ “Quiet,” he pressed the little red button the ship jutted forward, “this can’t be that hard. I’ve done the simulators before.” “I am calculating 12 percent chance of survival.” He ignored the negativity and pushed towards the asteroid belt. And much to his delight and surprise, it was much like the simulators. He shifted the craft to the right and gave a first large chunk of rock a wide berth. “Maybe I didn’t need you for this after all.” John ventured further in and with relative ease he zigzagged through this treacherous obstacle course. “You rate of speed is very low.” “Easy does it …” Suddenly, the nose of the ship dipped. John’s grip on the controls were tight so he knew he hadn’t positioned it to do such a thing. “This planet’s gravitational pull is very powerful. You are going to lose control of me.” It became more and more difficult to made wild arching turns around each rock. All the while, he could hear smaller bits of the belt smashing into his ship. “I am equipped with deflector shields. With each impact, the effectiveness is decreased by 4.25 percent.” A rock the size of small child smacked into the front viewport. “17 percent for that one.” “Shut up with the percentages!” He had now lost control and the wheel wouldn’t respond in any he wanted it to. He had seemingly cleared all of the big rocks but now was unmercifully being pummeled by the equivalent of pebbles and small stones. “You’re now entering the planet’s atmosphere. Congratulations, you’ve successfully cleared the asteroid field.” A rock twice of the size of the last one smashed into the viewport again. This time, a small crack appeared. It slowly spiderwebbed as John looked on in abject horror. “My window is compromised, John.” He could visually see the heat as it poured across the front of the craft as the atmosphere resisted his advance towards its azure surface. As he potentially watched the viewport break into a million pieces and then suck him out for a miserable death, he also remembered something else. “I don’t know how to land this craft.” “I do.” “I’m very happy for you, do you mind?” He reengaged auto-pilot. “I will do what I can but an asteroid has damaged my landing gear.” “I just used them!” “In error, too. They no longer work. I’m certain that the landing with kill you. Are you okay with this?” “What kind of fucking question is that!?” “There is no need to swear. I am equipped with the means to ease your pain. You’ll expire before impact. Open your visor and I’ll end life support. It’s the least I can do, John.” “No!” John turned off auto-pilot again, “do no such thing! I’ll land this ship. It can’t be that hard, I’ll just level this thing out and …” The pulled up on the wheel and did as he said. He was plummeting at a higher rate of speed now and force that smashed against him made him throw up his mouth. The planet’s surface became clearer as he rushed past the clouds. It was blue alright. Blue sand and mountains. He could admire its beauty if it weren’t about to be his tomb. Closer and closer. He envisioned a run way. Maybe if he just slid the belly of the craft across the surface, instead of nose first, he’d be just fine. He had no clue what he was doing. John braced for impact. “Doesn’t having that guy around make you nervous at all? Given his… you know. Reputation?” John looked up from the notebook. Just inside, they were talking. Mike had invited this woman over for dinner. They had been dating for nearly a month now and while this was only their third date, there were plenty of hushed conversations in the rides back home accompanied by a giggle or two. They had just returned from Memphis that morning when she wanted some type of formal celebration for their successful debut. A spaghetti dinner. Cheesecake. John abstained from the wine and suggested that Mike invite her friend, too. They had set out to accomplish something and had lived up to it. So why not share the good news? The final moments of the contest were etched into his mind. Golden boy had played interference effectively and had cut him off from bringing Mike into play. The defining moment was her slipping his grasp and then smashing the heel of her boot into his face. For just a brief glimpse, John caught her grinning reaction. It caught big man off guard because John took advantage of a mistimed attack with a clothesline and then threw him through the air with a belly to belly suplex. He tagged in Mike and she whispered, “Like we practiced.” The boy was nowhere to be seen. John shoved Mike to the mat, grabbed up her legs, fell backward, and thus launched her into the air. Angel of Death had just staggered to his feet when Mike violently smashed a forearm into the side of his head. He crumpled to the mat like a sack of potatoes with Mike on top of him and the official counted. One. Two. Three. Three seconds was all that it took to wipe away the assumptions that NSFW, never a team before, could never hang. 6 foot 6, 330 pounds of solid muscle didn’t matter much when it was flat on the mat. Backstage, Mike was elated. “THAT WAS FUCKIN’ AWESOME. OH MY FREAKIN’ BABY JESUS,” her eyes were as bright as her mile-wide smile, and she was actually bouncing every couple steps. If she was in any pain at all from what she’d just gone through, she absolutely wasn’t showing it, “I think I broke the fucker’s nose, to boot.” John, meanwhile, was flushed. He doused himself with a bottle of water and then looked up and returned the smile with drippy disheveled mess of hair - a complete contradiction to the painstaking care he took to keep everything neat and proper. It had taken everything in his power to lift the big man through the air and he was certain he could credit it towards living in that moment more than anything. Uncharacteristically, he replied, “We can only hope.” “You liked that, huh?” she snickered, her laugh a bit breathy, and followed suit- her own hair was pretty damp as it was- giving a playful toss of her head, splashing water drops in her partner’s general direction, “We shut ‘em up, Church. We shut ‘em all up good. Let’s see anybody fuckin’ doubt us now. Because that was awesome. WE are awesome.” “And this is just the beginning, partner,” he extended a open hand towards Mike. She took it, and gave him a tug inward, smacking his back in a bro hug, “Those belts’re good as ours.” Some would say those were high expectations for this fledging team but why not, John surmised. The tag team championships, plural, were held by one man consumed with petty grievances with anyone but the division he championed and prancing about with a fictional title that only a mischievous property thief seemed to want a part of. He, in Mike’s words - not his, was a fuckin’ moron. NSFW. Tag team champions. John had never worried too much even in the infancy of his career about championships but he soon realized that it was it was possible he felt that way because he had never had the opportunity. His pending television championship match still loomed over him and a piece of him really wanted that accolade. But tag team champions. That’s the crowning achievement. John looked down at the notebook and then towards the screen door that led into the house. Mike did eventually invite Melissa over after John insisted. They would be on the road more often as their stock rose. More in demand. Public appearances and the like. They had their dinner in relative silence. John still was possibly missing the point of a dinner with company. He should have conversed but he felt on guard the whole meal. Melissa kept looking at John even when Mike was clearly speaking to her. At first they were side eye glances but then she stared. He felt like an attraction at the zoo. That stare turned into one of recognition but the woman with the flowing brunette hair never said one word to him. John finished his meal promptly, cleaned his mouth off with a napkin, and excused himself with the notion that he was the third wheel here and they should have time to themselves. So here he was, it was evening time but the sun was still up. He sat in the ring, cross-legged, under the shade of the tree that loomed over Mike’s poor downtrodden ring. This however was the ring that was the stage when they formulated the winning strategy in their tag team debut so maybe some credit was due. He touched the pencil back to the next empty space right on the blue line. His eyes opened. Was he dead? All he could see in front of him was blue sand. No, he wasn’t. He in the pilot’s chair surrounded by the wreckage of what used to be his ship. The viewport and front console had been blown apart and if his chair were a couple of inches closer, his legs would have probably joined the strewn out metal scraps about. But here was in, completely in tact. No tears in his life suit. His helmet was still functional. There wasn’t a piece of shrapnel embedded his chest. “You’ve survived, John.” And so has that annoying little computer. He turned his attention to the fact that the strap’s mechanism that held him to the chair had melted into the metal fixture that attached it. He saw a sharp jagged piece of metal sticking up from the sand just between his feet and struggled against the harness to pick it up. “John,” he could see where the voice emanated from. The console that had the wheel was thrown to the side about ten feet away from his position, “You seem to be in a predicament.” “Shut your damn mouth,” his gloved hand just touched the the edge of the metal but he exerted himself to much and was grabbed back by the harness. “I don’t have a mouth, John.” “Once I’m out of this chair, I’m going to stomp the living shit out of you.” “That’s impossible physiologically and at this point in time circumstantially.” Second time around, John managed to snatch up the shard and then went to the task of carefully excising himself from the chair without puncturing his suit. “Careful, John. You can’t breath the air on this planet.” He was free. John marched past the wreckage and the sand-turned-glass cracked under his heavy footsteps as he advanced towards the voice. His shadow loomed over the computer. “I could still be of service.” “I know where I am,” he touched at his wrist and a small holographic map appeared just over it, “I wanted the front door but this will do. You, however, I’ve had to listen to you for the last two months.” With the shard still in hand, he pried open a panel just under the wheel and exposed a myriad of wires and flashing lights. “That’s right, John. I’m portable. Insert the module into your suit and I can help you.” He sliced through the wires and exposed the core. It blinked as it continued to transmit and receive data. It continued on, it’s voice distorted, “I was joking. Funny joke as your kind would say. Laugh, John, laugh with me.” John plunged the metal shard into the eye and it sputtered and powered down. He threw the metal piece on the ground and surveyed his surroundings. In retrospect, he really didn’t think this through. He thought he’d acquire the ship, set out, and figure out the hard stuff along the way. In the meantime, he had depleted most of food and drink stuffs. He had a few water pills in the small pack on the back of suit but not much else. This, however, was a one way trip so the broken down wreck surrounding him was of no concern. What did concern him is how he left things. He looked at the holographic map hovering over his wrist. He by pure happenstance was just under two kilometers from the entry point. John got his bearings, allowed the navigator point him in the right direction and he was on his way. The gravity here made him feel heavier than he was and every step in the sand was a struggle. He left heavy foot prints then went a quarter of the way up his legs. John could have said something. Maybe she would have convinced him to stay. Secretly, maybe that is what he wanted. Instead, he had this and that is what his mind overrode him on. The hypotheticals ran through his head on repeat in the last few months. Every time he felt like he was making progress, someone somewhere on that station said something. They always had something smart to say. They always judged him. He wanted to grab them and shake them and yell at them. Every thing she was capable of doing. In that, though, there was a realization. John started to view her as a commodity and he was the parasite. He didn’t want to be a user. And so he realized that he really offered nothing in the scheme of things and it was better that he go back to what he knew. He was so tired. And it hurt so much. He’d beg them if he had to. Let him have the only thing he ever had. It was forced upon him and now they took it all away from John. The only thing that ever comforted him over time. More time passed and he could finally see a rock in the near distance. A small crack that served as a entry point split it’s core. When he finally reached the slit in the rock, he turned sideways, sucked in, and sidled into the hole. One, two, three, four steps. The fifth step however slid towards and the rest of his body tumbled down a sharp incline. He spilled out onto a steel platform in front of a metal door with no handle. Above the door, attached to a rock was something resembled a camera. The lenses turned red at the commotion John must have made in his fall. “You’re letting him stay here? Like, you know what he, I’m sorry, what he was accused of doing, right?” The tone of the conversation inside had changed to hushed whispers but Mike seemingly did everything in his power to steer the conversation about them and not the guy sitting in her backyard. John shrugged and continued. Today has been a painful day, John concluded. He rolled onto his back and checked the suit once more. Still complete. “Identify yourself,” a voice bellowed out from the camera above the door. “Great, another computer.” “I’m not a computer. And you don’t belong here. You’re trespassing on the grounds of the Ely Planetary Prison.” “I’m aware of that.” “Identify yourself. You are the entrance to a maintenance depot. This is not a visitor entrance. There is no visitor entrance actually.” John climbed to one knee, “I’m aware of that, too.” Suddenly a hatch opened up in the middle of the floor and a turret shot up, “This is your third and final warning. Identify yourself or I’ll find out who you are after I put some holes in ya.” And finally, he clambered to his feet, “I am prisoner 54234A72. John Bishop Church.” The turret at that very moment narrowed its sights on the man. And for a moment, John believed he’d be torn to shreds. A small part of him welcomed that. There, however, was a conversation occurring between the voice from the camera and someone else. It was muffled. And then, “John. Bishop. Church. You are no longer prisoner 54234A72. You were exonerated. Leave these premises.” “No. I killed a guy on my way here. That’s gotta violate some terms of my release.” “Excuse me?” “I mean, it was a computer but I’m pretty sure that counts somewhere, right?” “John. Bishop. Church. That does not count.” “Look,” John moved past the turret with no hesitation whatsoever and placed his hands on the door, “Just let me in. This is me. This is where I belong.” “You do not belong here.” “No, I really do,” he desperately pried the door but couldn’t find a gap to stick his fingers into, “let me in.” “You do not belong here,” the camera repeated emphatically. “I, I, I, had been here so long. This, this is home. You don’t understand. You really don’t.” “No. You do not understand, John. Bishop. Church. You are not prisoner 52324A72. You are no longer in our system,” the voice audibly sighed, “You’re free. Don’t you see that?” “This is, is, freedom?” John pounded at the door in anger. “You are free. Go live your life. Away from this door.” “What, what, if I break this gun?” “That thing? It hasn’t worked in years.” Seemingly the operator pulled the trigger and the turret spun up and smoke poured out from its barrels. “There, I made you admit a security flaw. I’ve exposed and taken advantage of it. Let me in. Process me, damn it.” “No. Go away.” “I’ve come,” he slammed his fist into the door at each word, ”A. Very. Long. Way. LET. ME. IN.” “I’m going to take my lunch. You can hang out here as long as you want but I have to warn you, it gets very cold in about four hours. You’ll probably freeze to death. And then I suppose I would have to open the door to retrieve your corpse. We’d probably incinerate you.” “I’ve got no where else to go. The ship that … I … the ship that I STOLE isn’t going anywhere.” “I don’t know if you stole that and even if you did, you’d have to be convicted of that by a jury of your peers. And we don’t house thieves here. This is a maximum security penitentiary. You know that, John. Bishop. Church. And you also know that there are no civilians allowed here. The blue sand will sort you out tonight, though. Anyway, have yourself a marvelous day.” And from there, John slammed into, pounded, kicked, punched and clawed at the door in desperation. The voice spoke up no more. He slumped against the door for another hour, hoping, believing, that someone, anyone would just take pity on him and let him in. But no one did. So he was confronted with the reality of this situation - that this ordeal was a waste of fucking time and now he was going to die for it. Slowly, he crawled out of the cave and out into the opening. It was getting colder. He sat in the sand and closed his eyes. He realized that he was actually okay with this. His body functions would slowly cease and he’d expire. And no one would care. A beeping noise interrupted his demise, “what is that?” It was coming from his right boot. Attached to the heel of his boot was a small flashing light the size of the head of a pen. And the noise was getting louder and louder. The dark clouds above ripped open as a large shuttlecraft with a horrendous and gaudy yellow paint job expertly used its multiple thrusters, off and on repeatedly, to lower itself in front of him not more than thirty feet away. John sat there dumbfounded. The hatch on the back of the ship opened and slight silhouette stood in the frame. He could hear an audible click as the person entered in on his audio channel. “Need a ride?” John could see the two them through the window into the kitchen. At this point, Melissa casually gestured at John without looking at him, “He seems a little slow, don’t you think? “…that’s fucking it.”   “What?”   “You can’t fucking take a goddamn hint. I gave you two fucking free passes I probably shouldn’t have, and I told you to lay off my friend, and you wouldn’t fucking do it. Get out,”   they both disappeared from view and John assumed that he didn’t give her much of a choice. There was some inaudible yelling and finally the front door being slammed. He could hear a vehicle pulling out of Mike’s driveway and then a very large screech as it burned rubber on its way out. Time passed. He closed the notebook with the pencil inside the fold. It was going to be a beautiful night and maybe he would stay out a little late and gaze at the stars. He would need to find a new book to read and then tomorrow - to the business at hand. Something bothered him, though, about all of this. Suddenly the screen door open and out stormed Mike McGuire. “You know all that shit I said the other day, Church? About having a good feeling about this one, hard to find a decent woman, yadda yadda? Fuck it. She’s a raging c**t.” John has been staring at the cover of the composition book and he looked up at her, “they seemed like honest questions.” He put the notebook behind his back and dropped it. “You heard that, huh?” She suddenly went from furious to somewhat sheepish, and sighed. “Sorry. I really am. I didn’t like the way she was talking about you from the fuckin’ get go, I was just hopin’ she’d take a hint and trust my goddamn judgment. But she kept on being more and more of a fire breathing bitch, and I don’t want to be with someone like that.” John rolled out of the ring, the pain evident from his last bout in the way he grimaces as his shoes hit the ground. He stepped towards Mike, “I don’t want to be deterrent to you living your life, Mike. We are partners in this but I am who I am … and this will never stop. I heard it last week. I heard it since I got here. And I heard it this evening. And we will hear it again and again. I didn’t say anything, because what’s the point? Do you think anyone of these people will have a sudden revelation on what they are saying?” He sighed, “I haven’t yet and I don’t think we will. You, don’t need to feel for me, Mike. Like I said, I am who I am.” “Yes I do,” she folded her arms stubbornly- a stance that ought to be familiar by now that she’d made up her mind firmly about something. She wasn’t going to budge on it. A tone that he used only once on her before returned, “No. You don’t,” and while it was too late to take back what is already said, his voice softened, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and … and we are doing something special but, I, I, I don’t need your pity. I don’t make a good first impression and … I am who I am. I don’t expect anyone to carry my baggage. You know how we say on the TV? And what’s mine … what I want back is my humanity. And so I have to take every Melissa out there in stride. Because I know who I am. And it’s only going to get tougher. But that’s okay,” he sputtered through this nervously but here he became more confident, “I’ve decided that I don’t want to go back. But I can’t hold you back either. We are partners. 50/50. The good and the bad.” “…okay. But just to clear one thing up. I don’t fuckin’ pity no one. When I said ‘yes I do’ just now? I need to feel for you because you’re my partner, yeah, but you’re also my friend, and if I didn’t care that’d be pretty shitty of me,” she jammed her hands in her pockets, teeth savaging her lower lip somewhat, “Anyway. This whole evening’s been hot shit on toast. You wanna do some work? That’d be more fun than me just beating the shit out of the heavy bag.” John was good with the change of pace, “Two-thirds of the Trinity. No offense to anyone before but this is our, mine, maybe your biggest match to date. I mean, I have that television title shot but our team is where it really matters,” he repeated what he said at the start, “so two-thirds of the Trinity.” “Yeah, those guys. Isn’t one of ‘em the champ’s fuckin’ wife?” “Right. Her. And their son.” She cracked a grin for the first time since things went south, “I don’t think that shit’s literal, Church.” John looked at her blankly and maybe, just maybe she could interpret what he did as a wink but it was so brief that maybe he just blinked, “So let’s get to it, shall we?” “Lemme go grab my stuff.” And so just moments later, Mike had the selfie stick with her cellphone in place. They had planned to do this after a little more study - after all, their opponents were perhaps a step above in that they were the premier group in this company. Not for long, he could hear Mike say. “Friday night was special, wasn’t it, partner?” “Couldn’t have been more special if it were wrapped up in shiny paper and tied off with a fuckin’ red ribbon. I hope all the fellas an’ gals in the back were paying attention.” “Most particular, the tag team champion.” “Note what my partner said just then. Champion. We’re still dealing with one fuckin’ guy as the top of our tag division. Hey!”   She waves with her free hand, as if to get the attention of a particular someone watching.   “Garcia! You wanna stop dickin’ around with Nostalgia and do your goddamn job? You gonna defend that thing sometime before the next fuckin’ coming of Christ? Or maybe before fuckin’ Wolfe puts out Chapter 2 of his prophecies?” “Good segue there,” he paused, “there’s been some rumbling about a resurrection of sorts for this division and I hope I’m not being too presumptuous to say that it’s because of NSFW. So here we are today and silly use of religious imagery aside, the Trinity presents the greatest challenge either of us have ever faced. Maybe some would believe that it is our privilege to share the same ring with them.” “Absolutely more of a privilege than sharing the ring with the last guys we fuckin’ beat. Draco, sweetums, how’s your schnozz? Bet you’re having some poor nauseated sex worker somewhere kiss it all better. But the Golden Goober and his cronies are yesterday’s news. And Church is absolutely right. We got kind of a pedigree over here, don’t we? Associates of the Man himself.” “His wife and his wife’s son.” Mike had to visibly stifle a snicker. “Not… sure she’s old enough for that. But either way, a way more worthy challenge. You people don’t rely on cheap insults t’ get by, do you? You got chops. We can respect that. But that doesn’t mean you ain’t meeting the same end that Colossal Dinguses got.” “For years in some form or another, you all have reigned supreme. You take all of the ugliness of faith and spread it like fungus spores - poisoning the minds of whoever would listen. And here you are now with a different name and a change of heart. It’s certainly taken you far. The father, he represents this company as it’s torchbearer. The son, he waves the flag for the future. And the evil spirit, she cuts an imposing figure with all of the smoke and mirrors. How about you two take a break from whatever carnival act this is and slum it down here on our level? I have to imagine that’s how they feel when they saw our names on the docket, right?” “I mean, jeez, having to fight a couple’a scrubs with just one tag match under their collective belts? Maybe I’m speaking for myself, though, after all, my partner here’s the heir apparent for the TV Title. But don’t get things twisted, lady and gent. We are the fuckin’ white-hottest thing burning any an’ all brands of this company. And you? Well, you made a great big fuckin’ mistake. See, Church here, he’s a good guy. Plays fair. Doesn’t take things too far. But me?”   Her cocky grin turned downright sharkish. “No DQ is where I’m a fuckin’ viking. And from the looks’a things, especially you, Reid, you an’ me, we’re Chloraseptic.  " She can’t help but shoot her partner a bit of a beam.    “We are sore throat spray?” John looked at her with a puzzled look on his face. “No, no! Y’know, Chloraseptic. One in the fuckin’ same.” “Close enough. We’ll talk later. The name of the game, though, is tag team wrestling and as my previous opponents can attest to, I can, we can cause just as much of a problem for you but in the confines of the rules.” “The rules of course, bein’, THERE AIN’T NONE.” “That’s, that’s,” John winced at the double negative, “there are no rules. So, so,” his eyes lit up just thinking of the possibilities, “I could throw you over the top rope! I could release the hold after six seconds - not five. I could use a closed fist!” “You sure can! And me, heck, I could wrap my good ol’ Louisville Slugger in barbed wire!” “Wait…” “Shit! Forget just the bat, I’m gonna go full on Hardcore Legend here! I’ll wrap my whole fuckin’ body in barbed wire! I don’t fuckin’ care! Here, hold this a second.”   The camera was shakily passed from hand to hand. The Brooklynite’s expression was wide-eyed and positively manic. Her fists clenched up so tight they could turn coal to diamond, and her smile was disturbingly ravenous.   “THUMBTACKS. THUMBTACKS FUCKING EVERYWHERE. IN YOUR BACK. IN YOUR FUCKIN’ FACE. MAYBE IN YOUR EYEBALLS, I DON’T GIVE A SHIT. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. I JUST HAD A FUCKING UGLY AS SHIT BREAKUP AND I WANT TO CHOKE A BITCH.” John wields the selfie stick and tries to get both of them back into the shot and showcases some of the worst camera work known to man as she frantically moves about screaming about the blood god. “Chokes are against,” John stopped himself, “there are no rules,” he grabbed her by the shoulder and met her insane expression head on, “There. Are. No. Rules. So on that special day, I might just look the other way.” “I WOULD BE SO FUCKING GRATEFUL IF YOU DID.” He lowered his hand at her, “In-door voices, remember?” “WE’RE OUTSIDE.” “I guess,” John looked about, “I guess you’re right. I’ll allow it,” and in the driest tone possible, “Blood. Blood for the blood god.” “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SHIT. FUCK. I NEED LIKE NINE SHOTS OF FUCKING WHISKEY. RIGHT NOW.” “All in due time, partner. Here’s the thing. Mike and I have spent our careers, our … damn lives being told that we don’t have what it takes. We met at the crossroads of fate and so here we are. You could claim we have an inferiority complex but you’d be dead wrong. This isn’t about redemption. We are here and we are actively taking this division over. Go sacrifice a goat for the prophecy. Go paint your face up and make things go bump in the night. Go promise that this is our doomsday. Because there is one thing you aren’t going to do and that is beat N … S … F … W.” He reached towards the touch screen and ended this session. John stared at Mike with concern, “You okay?” She inhaled, let the breath out in a long whoosh, and then nodded, “Peachy keen. In fact, I feel a whole lot better now.”

#archive

1 note · View note

adrenalineguide · 5 years

Text

Golf Alltrack Execline: Are you man enough

By Michael Hozjan

It’s roomier and will carry more cargo than many of the so-called sport utilities and crossovers. It will out handle, out maneuver, out perform and get better gas mileage than most of the cute utes on the road today. Oh and it will take you to most of the same off the beaten path spots that most of them will too, and further than the tall-riding front-drive crossovers will.

I’m talking of course of Volkswagen’s Golf Alltrack, a station wagon for the modern era. That’s right I said the taboo word that so many car buyers are afraid of – station wagon. Why is beyond me, but it seems that more and more people think of the station wagon as the stoic old family sedan with an attic in the back. God, even the minivan moniker is easier to say out loud despite their soccer mom persona.

Well if you aren’t falling for the four yuppie he-men taking their manly crossover through a pristine pine needle lined forest (now there’s a rugged trail!) commercial and you still want to haul more stuff that the family sedan can handle, than look no further.

Take a cue from the Europeans and step up and be pampered in a Euro wagon. Golf’s Alltrack brings the Teutonic quality, fit and finish that we’ve come to expect from Volkswagen and wraps it up in a sporty, slightly jacked up, all-wheel-drive station wagon. There I said it again and the world hasn’t fallen off its axis.

Power is supplied by VW’s proven 1.8L inline turbocharged four cylinder pumping out an impressive if not ground breaking 170 horses with 199 lb-ft of torque. Thankfully VW still offers a true 6-speed manual transmission so you can step into the base model with the fun tranny for $31,200. Sadly my tester did not come with it; instead it came with the optional dual clutch 6-speed automatic with Tiptronic paddle shifters, a $1,400 option. The automatic does a fine job but I prefer keeping my left foot busy and my right hand slinging away at the gears.

There are two trim levels, the base Highline and my Execline. Both trims are well equipped with principal differences being wheel size, leatherette vs. leather and some lighting and sound package details. Mine had the 18-inch alloy wheels over the 17-inch units, and Shetland –Vienna leather seating with heated front seats, panoramic sunroof, a 400- watt Fender audio system, a back-up camera, and an eight-inch touchscreen infotainment system, GPS nav, sat radio and USB, and the usual Apple CarPlay and Android Auto connectivity.

For the discerning buyer there are two option packages, both included in my tester. I really appreciated the $795 Light Package for getting me home at night; it included adaptive LED headlights with cornering lights. The Driver Assistant Package ($1,750) added pedestrian detection, adaptive cruise, automatic high beams, forward collision mitigation, blind spot monitoring and rear traffic alert as well as lane and park assists.

Oddly enough the one option I count on as a MUST HAVE in these climes and I’m really disappointed at Stuttgart for not including it is a heated steering wheel. The washer nozzles are heated so what gives? Oh and there’s a mickey mouse off-road monitor that tells you your altitude, steering angle and compass. Hey VW, again what gives?

That said and getting back to the joys of station wagon dom, the Golf is a blast to drive. Switch it into Sport mode and the throttle gets more responsive, the steering, already tight firms up even more and the progammation on the transmission turns the Golf from a family mover to a “fasten your belts kiddies” hauler. It’s all in part to the 4Motion all-wheel-drive innards pillaged from the Golf R parts bin. Although it can send 50% of the torque to the back axle it lingers around town in a 90/10 front rear split when not called upon. The Alltrack’s XDS (cross differential system) a brake-based torque vectoring for better cornering. There’s also an off road mode that alters throttle and brake calibrations and locks the system for optimal traction. Unlike other systems that send power to the spinning wheel (think about that one), VW’s system sends traction to the wheels with the most grip.

If getting you there is only half the challenge the Alltrack’s cabin will surely please with its airy, functional and comfortable surrounds. Egress and ingress are excellent and the low stance makes loading cargo a breeze. There’s 13 cu.ft. of cargo area behind the 60/40 split rear bench and more than doubles with the rear seat folded. The 8-speaker Fender sound system and sat radio was easy on the senses. The Golf also gets NHTSA’s 5-star overall safety rating.

I can honestly say that I can see myself spending my retirement years criss-crossing the continent behind the wheel of Golf’s wonderful wagon. Am I running out and plunking down my dollars? Well let’s just say that with planning most of my travels in summer or away from the Snow Belt I’d get behind the wheel of its less costlier sibling – the lower riding SportWagon. The Sportwagon offers all the benefits of the Alltrack but rides 3.5 cm lower and does away with the plastic fender cladding. Oh and I’d opt for the manual trans. My Metallic Peacock green Alltrack however still remains as a wonderful alternative to its high riding quasi off-road competitors.

Price as tested: $36,670

#volkswagen #alltrack #golf #crossovers #suv #station wagon #mini utes #cute utes

1 note · View note

paulruskeaton · 6 years

Text

13 tips for future Fallout 76 players.

Fallout 76′s B.E.T.A. has given me a taste of what to expect from the full game. It has also given me a heads up on some of the mechanics and changes the franchise has introduced, for better or for worse. This post is written for those who already decided to buy 76, but chose to pick it up later, and to opt out of the B.E.T.A. Here’s some tips to make your first few hours with the game less frustrating.

More after the break.

(These notes are based on version 1.0.0.6.; the last update released during the B.E.T.A..At time of writing, the game has not had its official release and the issues named here may have since been addressed by the development team. This post may be edited down the road for corrections and updates, if need be.)

1. Trading with party members is not the same as trading in general.... or trading as you have come to know.

In the current version, you have the option to trade with anyone on a server by walking up to them and holding down the key/button that prompts the trading screen. However, they’ve changed the up how the trading system actually functions.

Instead of selecting what you want to buy and sell first and then confirming it all at once, you are forced to sell/buy each item individually. Pretty much, it’s less about item value and more about how many caps you have on hand. Caps are given more function in this game, as you need to them to fast travel long distances and move your CAMP around. Okay, sure, but once you get to the real-life players involved with this system, things get... complicated.

Say you see a cool baseball bat in someone’s inventory and decide you want to have it. Here’s how you go about getting it. First, you select it, which marks the item as something you are interested in. Then the seller needs to select the item as well and then set a price. Once the price has been set, the buyer can then select the item again to purchase it.

Sounds simple on paper, but no one in the parties I was in understood this system: me included. In fact, if you are in a party and want to swap gear, you are much better off dropping each other’s items---which appears in a bottomless paper bag at the moment---and pick it out of there. But if you’re looking to be a merchant, it’s still an awkward system. Again, you can’t purchase en mass or just swap items without getting caps involved. Okay, that’s not completely true: you can set the cap value to zero, but you still have to do this for each item you wish to sell/buy.

Oh, and additionally, be sure to use the “offers” filter often, or at least if you get stuck with a person who isn’t talking. Which brings me to the next tip....

2. Your mic is either always on, or always off.

There is no mic button; nobody likes this.

In most online games I know, if you want to talk, you hold down the button/key bound to that, which opens your mic. 76 does not have this. There are four options, toggled in only in settings: “Off, “Auto,” “Team,” and “Area.” The people I hung around with usually had it on “Team”, since that filters out everyone else on the server: who are the ones who have it on “Auto”. “Area”, which only broadcasts your voice to... eh... the nearby area, ended up being kind of useless, since not everyone wants to hear you all time: which will happen because Bethesda, again, made sure of that.

You mic turns on whenever it detects a noise higher than a pin drop. So if you’re chatting with someone on Discord, have a dog, tend to breathe heavily, or if you’re pretty much in close proximity to anything that makes a noise, you will be heard unless you turn off your mic completely, or are muted. Additionally, while there is an icon that displays next to the name of the player who is talking, is is super tiny, so unless you are standing right in front of them or have a very distinct voice, you may not actually know who is talking. Speaking of things that are hard to shut up...

3. Audio Logs

In the first few missions, you are tasked with finding audio logs of the old Overseer and some groups that used to operate in Appalachia. Last time I checked, once you pick them up, they play automatically. So first off, they moved the holotapes menu away from “data” to its own menu under “inventory”; you go here to play/stop a tape. Second, if you’re playing with a team or just some unmuted folk, you’ll need to turn on the subtitles, so you can actually hear what you’re supposed to do. This comes in handy because...

4. Objectives are super vague, super cluttered, and super fickle.

You know that old problem with Bethesda quests where the compass will keep leading you inside, then outside, in then back out again for one marker? Well, that’s back: with a vengeance. At once point, a teammate and I decided to fix up a nearby power plant. The objective was simple: fix up the generator, reactor, and cooling towers. How, may you ask? Well, i’ll tell you right now, because the game sure doesn’t. You find leaks and broken yellow control panels. That’s it.

Simple enough, right? Yes, but then the aforementioned marker problem comes into play. These leaks and panels are never in the same building and seem to use the same marker icon as everything else, so if you’re in a labyrinth of a building, and power plants tend to be here, expect to run around in circles. A lot. Additionally, unless you shut them off, you will see your teammate’s open objectives on your screen as well: cluttering up the HUD pretty quickly.

Oh, and some of these quests are on a timer. Yep.

Some quests are called “events”. They pop up on the overworld map whenever a player starts them and anyone on the server can join in to assist. (Though they may not always get the XP... I haven’t figured out why yet.)The event ends either once it’s completed, abandoned (leaving the area) or after an allotted time. Why for the latter? Other than to annoy me, I have no idea. I do know that my friend and I failed that power plant objective, right near the end, because the game got impatient with our running around. Hardly our fault though: we kept dying. Why?

5. Because dragons.

Surprise! It’s Skyrim after all!

Okay, technically no, but it’s an action RPG where you fight dragons so I’m making the joke now while it’s still a living horse. They’re actually “scorched beasts”, and they shoot nothing but radioactive murder plague death from their mouths. Don’t fight them until you are ready, and you won’t be for awhile. Don’t be like my idiot teammate and try to bring one down “for the XP”. You’ll just die. Over and over. Speaking of death...

6. You “lose” items when you die.

But don’t worry, you can retrieve them. But balance that choice wisely. You can respawn near your last death point, but do take a moment to ask yourself a few questions. “Why did I die?” Was it because of something manageable, like a ghoul or mutant that got the jump on you? Or was it a marauding player--who probably already picked it up--who now has a bounty on their head? Or was it because of the aforementioned murder death dragons? Take these into consideration. Also consider what you left behind. When you die, you only drop whatever junk/scrap you had picked up and haven’t stashed away yet. (More on that later.) Ask yourself, was it something kinda common like steel or cloth? Or was it something absolutely essential, like....

7. Wood and Aluminum

You need these. Always. Never walk pass them. Ever.

In Fallout 4, adhesive was the precious commodity. Now you can find that near everywhere. Meanwhile, in a video game literally set in an enormous forest, wood is hard to come by. Why? No idea. You can’t “scrap” your environment like in 4, and for some reason, axes cannot cut down trees. (Yes, they never could in these games, but I feel like there’s some serious cognitive dissonance going on here) You need wood to build shelters, crafting tables and make “boiled water”; all key for early survival.

But you can scrape up enough wood for this if you know where to look: scrapping common weapons is the main one and some areas have lumber in small piles. The bigger headache is aluminium. Aluminum is much rarer and you need aluminum. Why?

8. Because weapons/armor can now break again.

Unpopular opinion: I actually liked the repair system of past Fallout games. Having to do equipment upkeep felt, I dunno, appropriate for a series about survival? It was also aided by the fact that you can do repairs on the fly with similar items, or the Jerryrigging perk. This time, not so much. When your equipment breaks, you need to find a workbench to fix it, and you need materials to do so. Once again, this is why you need as much aluminum as you can carry because most repairs need them. But what about...

9. Being over-encumbered.

So having to carry so much junk... well, you know what tends to happen. But the over-encumbered penalty has been tweaked a bit: while you will still slow to a crawl, it’s only after your AP meter has been exhausted.

Luckily, they made junking more convenient: you can break down any junk, armor, and weapon at any workbench and some early perks allow you to carry more by cutting the weight of various items. Stock up on ‘em early if you can; it’ll make the trek back to your stash box easier. That said...

10. Your stash box is not bottomless.

Hoarders beware: use it or lose it.

Your stash is always with you as long as you have a CAMP around, but as I learned, it does have a limit to what can be held. Pretty much, you’re forced to craft and trade often; to not just pick up anything you find lying around because you’ll probably have use for it later. (After all, your priority is wood and aluminum anyway.) Unfortunately, I have no way to trump this system. The closest thing I found is to craft ammo: a much more precious commodity than caps. Come on, Bethesda, just because Metro uses a bullet currency doesn’t mean you’re prohibited from implementing it! That said, you may conclude that you could take the old Skyrim approach and just trade a high volume of useless crap for the good stuff. Well, guess what.

11. You cannot “print money.”

They actually nipped this one in the bud early on. Yes, you can craft things if you have the ingredients and recipes to do so. But that’s not for everything. I saw that craftable hatchets and knives can no longer be traded at the handful of NPC merchants in the game. Same goes for bullets: you’re better off just shooting your surplus ammo into the air, like a “true Appalachian”, than setting on them, waiting for value. Unfortunately, you cannot scrap bullets either, which is a shame and I hope the add the option down the line, around the time they further restrict our trading options.

12. Oh, yeah, I also said “recipes.”

There are more things in this game that require “plans” and “recipes” before they can actually be crafted. I was into this for the sake of immersion: how your character in 4 readily had the knowledge to build a small house with complete furnishings was something I found silly. But as I stated earlier, 76 has a very questionable view of reality, so it may void that a little. Regardless, you earn plans and recipes through various means. The common way, for armor/weapon modding anyway, is to scrap items, which gives you a chance to learn a new modding recipe for that item. You also earn some by completing quests and events, and can sometimes buy them from merchants. (Can’t sell them though.) On top of that, some still need the right perks to use. Oh, I should actually close on that one...

13. Perk Cards and Leveling

They brought back perks for 76, in the form of cards you unlock at every new level. You combine duplicate cards to raise thier levels as well. When you level, you are asked to put a new point into any of your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes. The total number of points in your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. dictates what perk cards you can swap in. For example, if your Strength is 4 and you have a perk card that's upgraded to level 3, you won’t be able to slide it in if you have three level 1 Strength cards in the deck. Oh, and your choice of new perk card is NOT limited to what perk you decided to level up.

---

And.... pretty much those are the key things I want you future players to know. But here’s a couple other tidbits to know.

You need to be a special level to use Power Armor and some high-tier weapons. You can still use the chassis at anytime though, providing you have the cores.

Food rots. Don’t overpack with perishable meals that you won’t use, unless you plan to make fertilizer later.

You can make diluted Stimpacks, RadAway, and Rad-X, which means it’ll double your medicine supply, but will be less effective.

You can save structures to blueprints to be built later, but you will still need the materials!

ALUMINUM. WOOD. ALUMINUM AND WOOD.

And one last thing before you take off on your new wasteland journey:

Bethesda made a lot of questionable decisions here, not just in gameplay but in world building. Once again, you will find that a lot of lore has been glossed over and/or ignored by committee. You may be tempted to get very emotional over what can be perceived as a gross disregard of canon and that Todd Howard is satisfied with slapping the Fallout brand on anything he wants.

I have come to accept this as fact and have chosen to still have fun with the game regardless.

It’s a big functional mess of a timesink that is, once again, more about making a profit than paying respect to a classic franchise: the norm of the industry. For all we know, this may become the installment that “kills” the franchise. But so far, I’ve been having fun and accepting it for what it is and prepared for whatever direction it chooses to goes in next.

As for you, I hope to meet you on these country roads very soon!

#fallout 76 #fallout #tutorials #gaming #long reads

10 notes · View notes

retphienix · 5 years

Text

(Random) Game Recommendations

It’s a new year (or a few days prior as I type this and prepare it for new years) and completely unprompted here’s some game recommendations because I want to mention some games.

No rules really, just some random games I’ve either played for the blog or outside of the blog- heck- it’s not even all games I played this year and it’s definitely not games exclusively released this year.

The last one, for reference, was a little over a year ago on 7/29/2017 with this aiming for new years 2018 into 2019. Also I would change a few things about that due to Bamco not knowing how to stop themselves from ruining a game for microtransaction greedy money grabbing, but I digress.

Hamtaro Ham-Ham’s Unite! for the game boy color

This one is a game from my childhood that I’m so glad I completed through this blog.

If I were to sum it up I’d say it’s a game about learning hamster words and solving simple puzzles (usually making use of these words to interact with characters / the environment) to gather up Hamtaro’s friends for a meeting.

It’s too cute for its own good, it made me shout “THIS IS ON A GAME BOY COLOR” many many times because it looks too good in my opinion and is overflowing with adorable animations, and it’s just makes you feel good.

Ham-Ham’s Unite is a really relaxing and uplifting game, and it certainly left me in a better mood throughout my entire playthrough.

I hear Ham-Ham Heartbreak is even better, so I’ll be keeping that in mind the next time I want to revisit Hamtaro and friends.

Clickpocalypse 2 for android/iOS and apparently even in your browser (news to me)

Yes yes, an idle game. And one I haven’t played in months at that- but then again I haven’t played Hamtaro in a long time as well so I don’t see that as discrediting what I saw in it.

I, usually at least, just don’t enjoy phone games. Not for the bull crap “It’s not real games!” rhetoric, but because as time as gone on phone games have gone further and further from what makes a game good and instead have mostly become manipulative Skinner boxes. Even if they don’t SUCCESSFULLY drain your wallet, heck, even if they don’t have direct monetization and only use ads- they always seem to fail to balance the ‘game’ and the ‘greed’ and you’re left with no game.

You turn it on, play it for a little while, and then you realize you’re almost exclusively being used and you’re not actually getting anything out of the game.

This isn’t an incredible example of directly countering that mentality- it’s just one of a few games I’ve found in the previous years that successfully balance the other way for me at least. I’ll mention another arguably more successful- but inarguably more messy example for the next game.

The reason I mention Clickpocalypse 2 is because, well, it’s a good idle game that hit a very specific aesthetic and enjoyment for me. This is a VERY idle game, you did VERY little- you can’t even “click” to increase speed as the name might suggest. Your input is exclusively “Pick the party. Choose when to use potions or spell scrolls. Equip equipment (it’s simpler than that sounds, it auto lists the best found loot and you tap to equip). Tap to level up when you get the xp etc.

It’s really really hands off- but it felt great to me.

The aesthetic it lands on is classic RPG goodness and the party does as you’d expect, clearing out dungeons and grinding while you check in to equip and level them choosing what skills they learn.

It’s a game I enjoyed because it’s, well, a good idle game. It doesn’t bury you in “You should be tapping this non stop or else” gameplay. It carries enough enjoyable mental tricks like stronger gear and leveling up to make it fun, and the monetization is, well, the most optional thing I’ve seen in a long while.

I’ve played so many games that rely on ads and they all feel highly necessary. This has a similar idea- there are optional ads for buffs like double achievement points (used for permanent buffs across multiple adventures) or tempoary allies- and these are helpful as heck, but man.

Because this is SUCH an idle game, they honestly feel like the most optional ads around. I watched plenty because I enjoyed the game and less because I felt like I needed them in any way.

But there’s not much to say that would convince someone this is a great game. I just think it’s a good idle game for messing around on your phone. It gave me that feeling of watching a friend grind through an old FF game- a very specific feeling, but that’s what I got out of it. A chill idle with a nostalgic feel and the balance of “game” vs “phone bull crap” was tilted heavily towards the game side for me.

Buriedbornes for android

Lord that image is larger than I planned for, my mistake.

Buriedbornes was nothing but a surprise to me. I’ve played a few games I enjoyed on the phone in recent times. Idle Apocalypse and Clickpocalpyse 2 being high up there (not sure how Idle is now, but pre-beta was alright). Even fell into Dokkan for a little while. But this?

I downloaded this because I thought “Oh my god it’s trying to pretend it’s dark souls or bloodborne, what on earth is this.”

And you know what it is?

A REALLY good roguelike with traditional turn based combat!

Like a REALLY good one. It has that feature I adore in good roguelikes where things can seem impossibly difficult, but then you get a couple good drops, you tweak your character to emphasize a certain playstyle, and BOOM! You just beat the entire game in one run deep into the endless mode on a character that seems unkillable due to strategies you built from the drops you found.

And it has the foresight to tell you at a certain point “Score stops at this point so you’re just playing to collect things in your beastiary of items so you might as well stop” along with ways to end a run, though my preferred way to end a god run is to keep making deals with various demons until I end up with a curse that is guaranteed to kill me on the next boss that way I feel like I gambled to death.

Look, I know the last game might have seemed a little floaty on merits, but try this game.

It’s simply fantastic. Dive in, die, dive in, die, and then stumble onto a perma stun build or an infinite shield build or a barrier regen build- you can stumble unto so many unique ways to play and I honestly had a lot of fun breaking and being broken by this title.

Wasteland 2 for PS4/Xbone/PC/Switch

Let’s get away from phone games and handhelds in general.

Wasteland 2 is a game I was looking forward to ages before release. I remember stumbling across news of it being kickstarted or something similar- and bookmarking it for future reference and promptly forgot until I saw it in stores and started berating myself for not getting it at release.

Now it took me a long while to get around to Wasteland 2; Long enough to hear from some that it wasn’t as good as they wanted and others that it was too complicated. Long enough to build doubts.

But my god.

This is a game that I highly recommend you come in with a quick start guide of some sort. Seriously. No it’s not impossible or anything- and I’m sure fans of the original will scoff at me for saying as much- but no, really. It’s “Fallout before Fallout” except now it’s well after Fallout (obviously) releasing in 2014, and it takes that oldschool complexity seriously.

Mostly.

Basically, just read up a quickstart guide, I found a wonderful one for my purposes (pretty sure that’s the exact one I used) because character creation at the start pretty much dictates what your first impressions are gonna be- ranging from “Oh, okay, this is pretty neat, I’m hyped to dive into this” to “OH MY GOD THIS IS TERRIBLE AND EVERYONE SUCKS AT EVERYTHING AND I’M NOT A FAN”.

If your reaction is the latter, I recommend restarting and fiddling with your team composition. You can play however you like- but this is a game that kind of expects your first run to be “mostly diverse” before you attempt a less specialized team in the future.

Enough of that. Wasteland 2 is a newschool fallout game. That’s what you need to know. It’s got a ton of post apocalyptic fun, plenty of moral moments ranging in quality from “Oh heck that’s good” to “.... not good enough” but there’s a lot more good than bad.

The first half of the game is simply better put together than the second half, to be honest, due to budget and deadlines or some other dev level nonsense, but that doesn’t make the rest of the game throwaway- it just sorta simplifies towards the end and then culminates in a massive boss encounter, which isn’t terrible by any means.

Combat’s great if you enjoy oldschool fallout and want some nice squad x-com style battles. Death is scary (very scary). And, heck I don’t know, it’s just a fantastic fallout game. Like a REALLY fantastic fallout game.

I made characters I grew attached to and it felt so natural to do as much because (thanks to the quickstart guide) my team was VERY diverse so I began to associate each of them with their skills and the playstyles those skills dictated.

Seriously, with a short read on what skills do what this is a fantastic game that I’m very glad I got to play through. Oh, and if you’re on console the text is stupid small- go into the options and change that. Also, don’t do what I did which made me sad to notice- don’t type up a large Bio for your characters (at least on console) because a bug prevents the Bio box from scrolling, meaning you will forever lose access to your long backstory ;-; Don’t do that.

Wario Land: Shake It! for the Wii

God I love this game. This goes up with Hamtaro as another feel good game and in a similar way it left me feeling in a much more optimistic and generally positive mood as I finished it.

I am a huge fan of the older Wario Land titles, the first one is one of my favorite games on the game boy- but I never really kept up with Wario until recent years. I didn’t play the later games, didn’t try his mini game compilations, and didn’t look at console releases at all until much later.

I heard of this game from a Wario marathon stream setup someone was doing years ago and took note only for one fact “It’s got good graphics”.

Like that was it. I saw this and went “Pretty” so I took note to get it later on.

I had no idea it’d end up being one of my favorite games, but here we are. This game hit like a truck with quality. You can easily coast through the game if you’re struggling with the harder challenges, but my god, there are SO many challenges hidden all around for treasures. The gameplay is FANTASTIC, the motion controls are SMART (come at me) and that aesthetic! MY GOD, that aesthetic! The entire game looks like a fox kids cartoon or something similar and I adore it.

This goes down as one of those games I’d recommend to just about anyone. You have a wii, find a way to play this. Truly, one of, if not my absolute favorite platformers of all time.

Well I’m dropping this a little early because I don’t mind being off season.

12/28/2018.

There are a metric ton of games I could talk about or recommend, but I had some oddballs I wanted to say and a couple feelgood games I wanted shown as well.

Quick bonus titles would be EDF 5 (a ton of quality of life changes and it’s EDF!!! SHOOT BUGS!), Play Yakuza you dinguses, if my whole emotional sputter and that whole side blog I made didn’t give a hint- Doki Doki Literature Club is worth a play, Dragon Warrior Monsters is the best pokemon game, The Fall was very interesting and enjoyable, Nioh is Bloodborne done right, and God Hand is great.

Have a great new year, everyone~

#Hamtaro #Clickpocalypse II #Buriedbornes #Wario #wasteland 2 #Retphienix

3 notes · View notes

hockeyowl45 · 2 years

Text

Obtain Your Shattered Auto Fixed Using These Suggestions

You can really feel a fast jolt along with a loss of energy when you're stripped of the car. After all, it's how you get to job and everywhere more you want to go. What are you going to do? You shouldn't stress, and alternatively you need to use these details to help you in the process when you make decisions about vehicle maintenance. Fully familiarize yourself with the dash panel of your car. Your dashboard ought to display several different types of forewarning, like the verify generator light, oil tension alert, an alternator caution, a temperature alert and a brake caution. Learn to understand these various lights in order to effortlessly identify what needs your focus. Do you understand what the estimated charge for your personal resolve is? When you don't recognize one thing, make inquiries till you do. Don't discover youself to be tied to more costs afterwards. It is far from lawful for the mechanic to start out working on your automobile before you formally approve them to do so, normally by putting your signature on a contract. Be mindful everything you approve the auto mechanic to perform. You need to only indicator documents including a comprehensive set of the needed maintenance as well as their rates. Testimonials are a fantastic way of locating a fantastic vehicle mechanic. Look for your household, good friends, and co-workers with regard to their suggestions. You will discover about the standard of support as well as the costs. Men and women can tell you what type of encounter that they had and whether the technician was sincere or perhaps not. If you are concerned with an automobile entire body go shopping puffing up the amount of work which needs to be completed, go and get free of charge diagnostics from elsewhere. While there is https://pgwallet-slot.com/ will get job performed by them, they have absolutely no reason to assert there is much more essential than essential. Unbiased garages and technicians are usually less expensive than dealerships. You can find a discount on your dealership should you obtained your vehicle lately but usually do not produce a habit of gonna your car dealership if you discover their costs too expensive. Learn about nearby independent garages with a decent track record instead. Along with simple wheel altering gear, have a plastic material tote filled with Do-it-yourself vehicle fix supplies from the trunk of the automobile in the case of emergencies. Fill it up with a minimum of a quart each of motor gas, transmitting fluid, steering liquid, and braking system fluid along with a gallon water. Put in a can of infiltrating oils mist, a roll of duct adhesive tape, twine, bungee cords and standard equipment to be able to control minimal maintenance on the road. Take note of the indicators a possible mechanic provides for you. If he are unable to present you with eye contact, rushes his words and phrases, or prevents responding to any queries you possess for him, this individual be seeking to conceal anything. Perhaps he is not going to actually know what he or she is carrying out or possibly is telling lies about something different. If this sounds like the way it is, choose yet another auto mechanic.

Look for a trustworthy vehicle repair shop in your area and consider your car there whenever it requires services. You ought to consider to have the exact same auto technician work with your automobile whenever you carry it there. It will help the mechanic to be informed about your car or truck so he will discover troubles earlier than other people. Even when you aren't particularly useful, there are some DIY maintenance that almost anyone are capable of doing. By way of example, transforming the windscreen wiper cutting blades is really only a matter of snapping off a single set up and snapping on an additional. Try looking in your user's guidebook or utilize a measuring tape to determine what size you will need. Don't be dismayed if the retail store the place you purchase windshield wiper rotor blades merely has one out of the correct dimensions. You should use one who is surely an in . reduced in the traveler part of your respective windshield without the need of resulting in any troubles. Generally get a secondly opinion well before you own an high-priced maintenance done. Nobody is perfect, so you will discover a opportunity that this retail outlet is completely wrong as to what is essential accomplished. Furthermore, you may be able to hire a company to complete the task to get a far less costly value than what your unique go shopping quoted you. When you acquire specific items at vehicle elements merchants, they will likely install them totally free. Remember this when you are and decide on them up. As an example, a whole new list of windshield wipers is about five money. An auto pieces retailer will often set them up for yourself free of charge, whilst an auto body shop will charge you all around $50. How would you feel regarding the tips and advice that you've discovered? You must be able to make greater decisions now when issues come up with your motor vehicle, and you also shouldn't be thinking it's the conclusion around the globe. You can aquire a reasonable price, and you will keep properly-well informed.

#PG

1 note · View note

rapid-apathy · 6 years

Text

So, you wanna start FFXII...

For my dearest @montmartre-parapluie! Not a guide, there’s plenty of those, just a short cheat sheet on starting the game strong ❤️

I own the original game and none of this fancy repackaged PS4 cynical resale versions. But I think in general this should be the same, sans the forbidden treasure chests.

Chests not to touch: Chest across from Old Dalan’s house Chest in Royal Palace Chest in Repository Room of Nalbina Dungeon Chests on Phon Coast

Tomato Hunt Kill a few cactoids and wolves (one at a time! avoid groups of enemies for now) first, and you'll level up to level 2 just on that and get a few more precious HP. Off to the right are some cactoids and a chest and off to the left be careful, but there are wolves there for you. Make sure you kill the two or three wolves that are around the cliff the mark is on before initiating the fight, because once you get his HP down all the way, he'll jump off the cliff, and you gotta run down there and finish him off. Have at least 5 potions with you. If you need to go back and save or get more potions before fighting the mark, go for it! The higher your level, the better.

Don't worry about the dinosaur, he's a non-aggro'd enemy, he'll only attack if you attack him or there is magic cast near him. On that note however, best to keep a nice distance just in case, because he's like level 30 and will destroy you instantly. Return to town and buy Cure with the loot and reward money. Don't, however, waste what little precious cash you have in Rabanastre on armor or weapons. The good stuff is stolen and bought in Nalbina which you can access when you do the Giza Plains soon.

Giza - Sunstone quest Penelo will join you after you reach the village, which is very close to the entrance, so this will be a little easier. This is your first real chance to 1. level up a little, 2. get some cash, 3. steal some good shit. So do the stupid sunstone BS and then go through the Giza Plains, the only thing you gotta look out for is the big guys with swords, there's 2 of them in the SW area. YOU ARE NOT READY. Everything else you can handle quite easily. Penelo has Cure too in case you don't yet. You can buy a Broadsword from the Village, I recommend doing that as soon as you're able. There is a chance of getting a Rod in a chest in the Estersand, but if not, you gotta buy something like a pleb. Kill/steal repeat. Then go to the SE and exit into the Estersand, and start chaining those doggos.

Try to chain the wolves and you will get better drops, tons of potions, wind stones, and the mystic armor Pointy Hat and Silken Shirt. When you get Fran and Balthier, they will only have basic shit armor, so getting this stuff will be a huge help and you can sell whatever you don't need. Go all the way until you reach the South Bank Village. There is an orange save crystal, which you can use to go back to Rabanastre instead of walking if you wish, and a very important later on merchant (golden axe). Sell your loot and buy 3 immune poison rings, one for Vaan, Fran and Balthier. You will thank me for this later. Go out again, chain chain chain those doggos and then in the NE corner of the Yardang Labryinth area, there is an exit to Nalbina Fortress where you can essentially skip ahead a little bit as far as gear goes, and buy some higher level things than are available in Rabanastre. So by the time we are ready to go to the Palace, we look something like this:

Just one note, don't buy bronze armor, I say this because for one, the Kilimaweave Shirt you can buy in Nalbina is a point higher in defense and two, when you escape from the Palace through the waterway, you will be able to steal them from the flying demons. Then you should be able to armor up Fran and Balthier for free. Steal your way to success in this game! Always be stealin’. Before you return to Rabanastre though, be SURE to remove all of Penelo's gear. She will leave and not come back until you're like level 15+, so all that stuff will go to waste.

Go back to Old Pedo and initiate the next part of the game, buy Fire, you really will want this because there are Flan enemies in the waterway and the Barheim Passage and you will not be able to get it again until you exit those. Fran has Fire, but you really want at least 2 people with it. Protect is the other I recommend, the others? Don't waste your money yet.

Do not open the treasure chests in the palace. Personally I avoid all of them, just to be safe.

Escape So you have Fran and Balthier and then Ashe. Ashe takes care of herself right now, so she's nothing you have to worry about. She'll heal herself. Only if she gets killed, Blind or Poisoined do you need to attend to her. And you have gambits!!! finally god how annoying. Set Vaan to steal, let everyone else handle the fighting. This is another good area to do some leveling and loot collecting AND to knock out the Bestiary for this area because many of these enemies can be a serious bitch to spawn later, so its way easier now while they're so easily respawnable just by zoning in and out. There's two save crystal between the areas you need to run back and forth a few times through, the treasure chests also have a high respawn rate, so its a nice sweet grinding area. You should be able to steal Bronze Armor, Leather Helm, (rarely for me) Leather Shield. The chests under the little water fall will respawn as well, and they often contain shields or gil.

Escape part deux Getting out of prison. Remember do not touch any of the treasure chests in the repository room, just save and gtfo. All of the treasure chests in the dungeon will be knots of rust, which after you fight the three Seeq's are pretty useless, but you can throw them at imperials for funsies (I learned there is some formula in the game with dark matter damage later on that uses the knots of rust you've used to determine its strength, but its like.... fuck the knots of rust)

Escape.... still All I'll say about the Barheim passage is that if you want to complete the Bestiary and get some mad cash, let the power get below 50%, but I recommend doing this when you're near the end otherwise you're going to be constantly swarmed by enemies and it gets annoying. So kill all the mimics except the last one, then you can get the zombies and skull defenders. You'll have to back track a little, but there's a save crystal at the end before the boss fight you can use and there is one by the section where the zombies pop up. I don't think you can spawn them later on, so something to keep in mind. It'll also be a slight early advantage of getting loot from undead enemies. You will not be able to return to the Barheim for some time and without completing like 45 side quests for the stupid key, so up to you. When I did it this last time, I came out of the passage with 50,000 gil between loot and cash. Even I was surprised, lol. You're gonna need it! You're gonna not only need gear for 4 characters when you get to Bhujerba, you will need to buy a lot of gambits, there's Poach and Charge technicks to buy which you want asap, and more spells, not to mention any items, and grimores/monographs (look these up, you want them as soon as you can afford).

When you exit the passage, you can just go up to the Village and you can teleport back to Rabanastre, assuming you have a teleport stone which you should have at least a few by now, you can steal them from the bats a lot. But I tell you, do NOT do your shopping there!!! Wait!!! The very next thing you're going to do in game is fly to Bhujerba, and you can shop there with higher level stuff than is in Rabanastre.

You should have everything you need for Silent Shot which I use throughout the entire game, it's quite critical I'd say. You need 3 dark stones (undead enemies in the waterway and barheim), 3 fish scales (fishies in the waterway and the Nebra Banks in the Estersand), and 3 green liquid (flans in the barheim), and it will be from the Bazaar as Markman's Delight along with an upgraded gun.

Open the LP board up and get those Mist abilities ASAP. I've never used the Mist abilities, but they give you additional bars of MP. Balthier's are the easiest to get to all the fastest, some others are behind some pretty pricey squares.

And with that, you should have a pretty solid foundation to slay on. ❤️

And one more thing I'll mention, ok two, is the measure weapons and auto-leveling.

These have a purpose, if you have a character just stealing or casting, they have a super high evasion/low damage and on hit they will leave a positive buff. Which means if the character gets confused and hits themselves or another party member they won't wipe them out plus it gives them a status effect. It's also a good way to have access to Bravery long before you're able to buy the spell, just target who you want to buff and have them attack. So when Fran hits her hubby, it's with love.

Also guns, they always come up looking like shit on the stats, but they are a very powerful weapon. You can also put them on weaker characters since guns don’t use the users stats when calculating damage. Once all the augments and haste is in play, the gun fires MUCH quicker as well.

And related, is the auto-leveling section of this game, the Jellies in the Henne Mines. The guides are crazy overly complicated on this, and I don't know why, lol. Here's all you need:

You need to be level 20-ish? You could possibly do it lower, although you gotta have the ability and LP to purchase Charm, Break and Syphon. As long as the jellies are hitting you for no more than 10-20, you're good to go. You don't need any special gear really, but equipping everyone with a shield and either no weapon or a measure is the way to go. Having everyone equipped with a Golden Amulet (double LP, get 6, works equipped on inactive party members, so always leave inactives equipped) or Embroidered Tippet (double Exp, does not work on inactives, you only need 3) is recommended. You can get the Golden Amulet very early in the game by managing to get through with your life to the Mosphoran Highwaste from the Westersand after you leave the Barheim Passage. It's not too crazy, just be prepared to fleeeeee, it's worth it when you realize how much LP some of this shit needs.

You don't get Syphon until mid-game (buy from shop on transport ship), so you can use Charge, set it last so they aren't endlessly casting it though. Your gambits should look something like this:

Smelling Salts and Antidotes are needed as the jellies cast confuse and poison, Esuna for back up is good. Have all three players set to this, make sure your inactives have their golden amulets equipped, and set it and forget it for a few hours at least. I usually do this right before/after Archades in the game, or level 40-50-ish. The Cerobi Steppe is where you can steal the Embroidered Tippets from the kitties. Otherwise you gotta wait and buy them in Archades.

In closing, rob the shit out of these bitches, chain for mad drops, cap an ass or two with your blunderbuss. I hope your play this round is much more fun!!!!

#ffxii #montmartre-parapluie

4 notes · View notes

derekmsheen · 6 years

Text

“My 16th Birthday” or “How I Made Birthday Money Working For The Sinaloa Cartel!”

I sat behind the steering wheel of the battered red truck. I wasn’t sure why he asked me to sit in the driver’s seat, but I instantly obliged. I jumped out the passenger door and got in through the driver’s side. I didn’t feel confident trying to slide over the gearshift, with the truck still running. God knows I would’ve dropped it into gear on accident and sent the little Toyota rolling down the hill on our first day out together. I didn’t want to take any chances disappointing him so I made sure to get out and walk around.

He didn’t notice how nervous I was and I’m sure, in retrospect, he wouldn’t give a shit either.

He walked off towards the open bay door of the auto body shop and disappeared.

“Son, if you see me running, be ready to hit the gas” he said, before he got out of the cab and went to the bed of the truck to retrieve his leather briefcase.

My instincts were telling me what we were doing was wrong, but at this point I didn’t feel confident asking any questions: things were happening so fast and I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t equipped for any this.

Hell, I didn’t even know how to drive a clutch.

But I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that. I’d figure it out if I had to. I’d seen his father sitting in this very seat, pushing the clutch with his giant boot and jamming the stick in any number of directions as the tiny truck lurched and bucked against the will of an overburdened clutch.

My grandfather only had a 4th grade education; If he could muster the coordination to drive this thing, I could probably manage.

It was already getting dark and I was pretty sure we weren’t going to make the movie, like he promised.

I didn’t know yet this was a routine we would follow for the rest of our time together: unfulfilled promises made to secure my cooperation. So here I was, sitting in a running truck I was unqualified to operate, without even a learner’s permit. The guilt was like a sour ball of heat in my stomach, but I was trying so hard to ignore it.

It was my 16th birthday and I was finally with my Dad.

My day had started earlier than usual: at 6a.m. I managed to rouse myself, get showered and dressed without waking my mom. The night before, I’d cancelled our birthday plans together by lying about a date with a human girl. Barbara was so excited at the possibility of me liking a girl that she told me we could reschedule my birthday dinner for later in the week. If she knew that I blew her off in order to meet up with my biological father, she would never forgive me.

Barbara had love in her heart for even the worst of people, but when it came to Michael Sheen, she was unapologetic about her anger and distrust of him.

She served him with divorce papers while he was in jail, awaiting sentencing for narcotics trafficking, which came as a complete surprise to her; until then, she was completely oblivious about his second life as a young up-and-comer in the Colacurcio crime syndicate: an extension of the Gambino crime family.

After their divorce was final she was adamant about zero visitations until I was old enough to decide whether I wanted anything to do with him.

She was very careful about the potential of poisoning the well so instead of telling me anything about him, she almost never spoke of him at all. Unless of course I asked, then she would open the old “hope chest” and show me the pictures of a young Michael holding his baby son, followed by a few newspaper articles, offered without comment, from the day the FBI stormed Francis and Isabelle’s home and placing Michael under arrest for high treason. More on this later.

We made a plan to meet at the King’s Diner, down the highway from the apartment I was currently sharing with Barbara, around 7:30 in the morning. Michael told me the plan was to meet up early, run a couple of errands and then grab some lunch followed by any movie I wanted to see. I had chosen “Spies Like Us”.

I arrived at King’s early enough to watch all the older union guys and dock workers show up for their first AA meeting of the day. Apparently, every morning at 7A.M. sharp, the banquet room became an ad-hoc sobriety hall, complete with its own coffee maker (one of those big, industrial size aluminum numbers) and fresh donuts. Some fellas ordered breakfast, which allowed me the opportunity to hear parts of their stories every time the server pushed through the swinging doors with plates of food perched up and down each arm. I sat at the diner until 11am, drinking coffee and re-reading the same paper for a while, trying to find new, unexplored parts I hadn’t examined yet, so I didn’t fall asleep at the diner’s counter. There was never a moment where I thought about going back home; I would wait all day if I had to. It was my birthday and I was going to spend it with my father, even if I had to wait until sundown.

When the little red truck finally pulled up to the front of the restaurant, I could tell Michael hadn’t been awake for long. His face was covered in light stubble and he carried heavy dark bags under his eyes. I paid for my coffee and went out to meet him as he reached over to the passenger side door and opened it from inside.

“Hop in, son!” he managed a half smile as I jumped in. The truck was filled with the rich odor of booze sweat and I instantly understood why he was 3 hours late. I tried to ignore it, rolled the window down and leaned outside for fear of dry heaving and blowing my cover. I asked him where we were going for lunch.

“I was thinking we’d hit this barbeque place in Aberdeen. A friend of mine lives out there and I thought we’d go say hi?” he replied.

“Isn’t Aberdeen three hours away?” I asked.

“I know I said we’d hit a movie” he replied, “but I have to run some errands first and I thought we’d do it together? We can spend some time talking and catching up” he offered, weakly.

I tried to mask my disappointment and sound agreeable.

“Um…yeah, that’s okay. We can hit a later movie.”

He didn’t reply, he just wrestled the clutch into drive and we hit the highway.

We drove in relative silence, with an occasional break for heavy sighing, belching or rubbing his face to stay awake, for what felt like days. I found myself annoyingly tapping along to the beat of the wipers as we plugged along the wet backwoods utility road on which we were currently driving. We’d left the freeway some time ago and were driving through a part of the countryside I wasn’t familiar with. I couldn’t ever remember being out this far.

Eventually, he slowed the truck and hit the turn signal as we pulled onto a long, muddy road, towards a huge, modern looking home, behind a massive iron gate. As he pulled up to the callbox he rolled his window down, reached out and hit the button.

A voice came over the tiny speaker:

“Hi Michael. Hold on” a man’s voice called out as the gates began to open and we slowly drove through.

Michael stared ahead and said “Son, this is a guy I work with. Would you mind hanging out with his kid while we do our business. Do you mind?”

“I guess not?” I replied, barely hiding my irritation.

“I didn’t tell him you were coming with me and he’s a little paranoid. Nothing to worry about, but you can play video games or something, then we’ll grab some lunch. Okay?”

“No problem, Michael”

He looked at me, perturbed.

“You can call me Dad, son. It’s alright.”

“Sorry. No problem…Dad” the word fell out of my mouth clumsily.

He pulled the little red truck onto a paved turnaround and parked, next to a silver Mercedes, which was parked next to a silver Land Rover. It was an enormous home. Huge floor to ceiling windows let me see inside. It was decorated for the holidays and I could see a massive Christmas tree. It had to be twenty feet tall and still didn’t begin touch the vaulted ceiling, where a massive wrought iron chandelier hung near the largest fireplace I’d ever seen.

Michael went to knock, but the door opened before his fist touched it. The man on the other side was still in his bathrobe and ushered us in, holding the door open for another moment and nervously looked around outside, before closing it behind us. Michael extended his hand and it just hung there as the man ignored it. He never even looked at me, instead pushing my dad towards an office to the right of the entrance. They both went in and he slammed the door behind them. I stood in the foyer, stunned and disoriented by the size of the place.

I found my way to the living room and saw a very young boy, maybe seven years old, watching cartoons in his pajamas. I sat on the couch next to him. He looked up at me for just a second, then back to the television. I sat and watched tv without ever saying a word to him.

Eventually I heard them emerge from the office, their voices getting louder as they made their way to the living room. Michael looked around nervously as the man in the robe split off into the kitchen.

“Let’s move” he whispered. His tone seemed hurried.

I Iooked up and saw the perspiration soaking through his shirt. He was the color of bleached paper.

“You okay?”

“We need to get the FUCK out of here” he spat quietly through gritted teeth and made a rolling motion with his hand.

I hurried off the couch and followed him. He was nearly to the truck before I even reached the door.

I ran out to the driveway to catch up and he’d already started the truck. Once I was inside, he hit the gas so hard the truck backfired and lurched forward. His face was turned, staring at the front door of the house, as he put the truck in reverse and backed out from between the two luxury vehicles. We made our way toward the gate, which was slowly opening for us. Once we were just outside the property, Michael let out a barking cough and wiped sweat from his eyes.

He slammed the brakes and skidded the truck into the dirt along the side of the road. He hurled himself from the driver’s side door and began making circles around the truck, his arms lifted over his head. He steadied himself on the truck’s short bed and began to dry heave, but nothing came out. He grabbed the door and pulled himself into the tiny cab, his eyes wet with tears and sweat, cheeks flush and his breathing labored.

“Dad? Are you alright?” I asked, fully aware he was the opposite of alright.

“No”, he answered curtly, before he whispered “fuck” under his breath.

He took one very deep breath and stared ahead just before announcing, “one more stop before lunch. I promise.” He said as he pulled back onto the utility road.

We drove in silence for almost an hour, before Michael pulled off the freeway and stopped in front of a small uniform supply store. There was a cartoon police officer painted on the big display window with the word “SALE” next to him in a loud Day-Glo color. He left the truck running and told me to wait as he made his way around to the bed of the truck and grabbed his briefcase.

I stared out the rain-covered windshield for twenty minutes.

He seemed almost relieved when he got back in the truck. “Alright” he said as he pulled his seatbelt over his lap. “Let’s get some lunch!”

“We’re gonna meet up with my friend Big Lou” Michael announced, breaking a very long silence. He’s a good fella. We met on the inside.”

I knew that ‘inside’ was slang for Lompoc Federal Penitentiary, where he had spent the previous 9 years.

“Now, when you meet Lou…” he cautioned, “don’t stare. He’s a big fella; easily over five hundred pounds. He had a cell to himself because no one else could fit in there with him. He’s a funny dude, you’ll like him”.

I wasn’t sure why he was selling Big Lou to me so hard, but I was about to find out.

Then, out of nowhere, he shared a weird piece of life advice with me.

“I hope you never end up there but if you do, don’t take anything anybody leaves on your bunk. I mean it. Cigarettes, magazines, drugs? Those aren’t gifts and nothing is ever free. Catch my drift?” I assumed that last question was rhetorical but Michael continued to stare at me, expecting an answer.

“Um…yeah? Got it. Thanks?”

“Good. I’m serious” he added.

We pulled up to Big Pig BBQ at nearly three o’clock. There was only one other car in the parking lot and it was a beat to shit Ford LTD with a piece of plastic wrap over the blown-out passenger window. Michael parked next to it and as we got closer I could see that the car was a dumpster, filled to overflowing with unopened mail, newspapers, blankets, empty food wrappers and bags. I had to stifle a gag as we walked past it and the smell of wet rot punched me right in my empty stomach.

“Looks like Big Lou beat us here” he said as I tried to keep my insides inside.

The restaurant had a rustic log cabin vibe going on and the front counter was empty when we walked in. Michael scoped out the dining area and pointed at a big corner table where the largest man I’ve ever seen had somehow managed to squeeze between the table and the wall and was now struggling to free himself to rise and greet my dad. Big Lou’s massive arms flapped like a flightless bird as he desperately tried to escape the tiny space he’d jammed himself into until, with one final upward heave his torso squooged free and his tremendous gut slid across the table as he crab-walked out of the tiny corner booth. He was now damp with sweat as his unsteady legs prepared to once again carry more than they were really equipped for.

He was a mountain of moist black skin and when he grabbed Michael he absorbed him more than embraced him.

I immediately understood how he acquired his nickname.

Michael introduced me and Lou extended a giant hand, the size of a canned ham, soaking wet with perspiration. It wrapped itself all the way around my tiny arm like a hungry python.

“You’re handsome just like yer daddy” Big Lou told me as his face creased into a pleasant smile. We all made our way to the counter and a lone employee appeared from behind swinging doors.

When our orders arrived, Big Lou had four separate baskets of smoked meats and sides that took up most of the available table space. He jammed a wad of napkins into the neck of his humongous and grease stained tee shirt as he set to work on emptying every one of those baskets by the time I’d even finished my one meal.

I tried tuning in to their conversation but It was difficult to hear over Lou’s wet chewing which made everything sound like it was underwater.

I was actually thankful they left me alone. Big Lou didn’t seem like a person I would ever have to meet again and, frankly, I just wanted to get the out of this place and go see a movie.

Out of nowhere, Michael asked me to run out to the truck to grab his briefcase and I became immediately irritated. Suddenly it hit me that we’d only met two days ago and now I’m in the middle of Aberdeen at an empty BBQ restaurant, watching an ogre gorge himself to death not long after running for our lives (from God knows what) at some yuppie mansion in the middle of nowhere, then sitting in silence in a shaky old truck with no heat and on my fucking birthday??

‘Goddammit’ my brain hollered.

‘I just want to see my fucking movie and go home’ I kept repeating to myself as I reached under the rain soaked tarp, feeling for Michael’s briefcase.

‘What’s so friggin’ important in here?’ I thought. I quickly glanced at the clasps and noticed it had a combination lock. I wondered if he’d rolled the tumblers after closing it, last time? Maybe I’d peek inside. I used my thumb to push the squared button on the first clasp and realized it was locked. Dammit.

I swung the case by the handle for a moment to see if I could feel what was inside, but nothing shifted. It was heavy. What the hell was in here that was so important? Then it thankfully occurred to me that I was probably better off not knowing and I made my way back inside. When I came back inside they were sitting closer to each other, their heads low and they spoke in whipsers. I made my steps heavier so they could hear me coming and set the briefcase on the table. Michael grabbed it and quickly hid it under the table without ever looking up at me.

He reached into his pocket, grabbed a wad of money and peeled off a ten-dollar bill.

“Why don’t you go grab us a piece of pie?” he asked

“I don’t think I can eat another thing. I’m pretty full.” I answered.

“Son, go get us a piece of pie. Please” and jammed the bill in to my hand and nudged me towards the front counter.

As I walked back towards the front counter I began to feel helpless and a little trapped, but I just kept my head down, hoping this weird day would end soon and then I ordered two pieces of pie.

We watched Lou struggle with the driver’s side door and try to fold himself into the tiny trash packed car. As he turned the key the car belched and coughed black smoke. Suddenly the smell of wet garbage became stronger as my throat began to burn from re-swallowing my lunch.

“Y’all be good now!” he called out over the radio blaring an unidentifiable mix of static and possibly Lionel Richie.

“We’ll talk soon, Lou” Michael said as he patted the meat of Big Lou’s arm.

Lou carefully backed his wreckage out of the empty parking lot and I could now see that both taillights were shattered as he pulled onto the highway, black smoke following him down the lonely road.

Michael and I got back in the truck and headed towards the freeway.

“What’d you think of Big Lou?” Michael asked, as the little truck accelerated towards the freeway entrance. I’d been quiet since lunch. My irritation had gone from hiding deep under the surface to nearly full-blown visible, but I was aware that Michael was oblivious to it.

I let out a deep sigh and obliged him, “Yeah, interesting guy”.

“You wanna know what he was in for?” he asked.

“Nah, It’s none of my business”

“It’s pretty crazy. You sure you don’t wanna know?”

“Was it murder or something?” I asked, half-heartedly. It was obvious he wanted to tell me.

He dropped the truck into a lower gear and stared dead ahead when he spoke.

“Lou had a real specific job.” his face was searching for the right language to use, careful to edit his thoughts before he finally blurted “he was a contract rapist.”

For a moment, I was confused because none of those words seemed to fit together.

He took his eyes off the road for a brief second when he noticed my silence.

“Not women. His specialty was men.” He followed this batshit statement with a nervous laugh, as if even he couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth. I kept waiting for him to break and tell me he was kidding or he was testing me and then tell me that Big Lou was actually just a murderer.

Nope.

Then he continued:

“He’d get called in on special occasions. Like, when a juror or a witness needed extra persuading? Mostly he’d get hired by ex-wives wanting revenge on their husbands. He got caught when some rich guy fucked his wife over in a divorce and she hired Lou to ruin his life. They caught him sneaking into the guy’s room. He thought Lou was there to kill him. Must’ve shit a brick when he found out what he was really there for?”

“Wait…for real?” I croaked, unaware how dry my throat was.

“Son, why would I make up something like this?” he seemed incredulous, before adding, “Besides, most of them had it coming.”

My sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t process how he was capable of rationalizing something so fucked up and I suddenly wanted to be home.

I wanted to be home so bad.

I wanted to see my mom and tell her she was right. That I should’ve listened to her. That I was naïve and she was so right. I wanted to apologize for everything and somehow magically wake up in my bed this morning. Forgetting to call my dad and celebrating my birthday with my mom, just like we’d planned.

I knew absolutely nothing about this guy. Where he’d been the last fifteen years and six months. What he’d done all that time. I didn’t even know why he was in prison? I was so desperate to just hop right into a truck with this dude and try jumpstarting a relationship, knowing absolutely jack shit about him, other than he was partially responsible for my existence and I did the very thing I’d been warned never to do with someone I didn’t know, especially if that stranger was my dad.

Now I was hours from home and daylight was starting to fade.

I was panicking, but I promised myself I would do everything in my power to bury it deep down, as far as I could, until I got home. I didn’t want to let him see me like this. Not on our first day together. I had plenty of time to regret this later.

But I had no idea just how long this day would actually last.

Now, back to the beginning:

Here I was, sitting behind the steering wheel, staring out the windshield and hoping to see Michael walk, not sprint, towards the running Toyota, I finally see someone come into view from the light of the open bay door: it was Michael and he waved, smiling, as he calmly walked towards the truck.

Relief washed over me. I wouldn’t have to learn how to drive a manual transmission under extreme duress and he’d promised me this was be the absolute last stop.

The clock above the odometer ready twelve after six and the last light of the sun was simply a purple blister over the horizon.

As he made his way to the driver’s side, he motioned for me to scoot over.

Still afraid of hitting the stick and sending the running truck down the road, instead I got out and walked over to the passenger side.

I didn’t even wait for his seatbelt to click before asking him, “So, is that it? Are we done for the day? Can we go see a movie now?”

He flashed me an exhausted grimace as his hands slowly rubbed his eyes, “We’re done, but I don’t think we’re gonna make that movie.”

I was already expecting this, but I wanted to make him say it out lout. It was oddly satisfying, knowing I was at least right that he would disappoint me.

“Okay” I said while yelling ‘fuck, fuck, fuck!’ in my head. It was anything but okay.

“Look, we need to head back to mom and dad’s before I get you home. I gotta get something from the house and they’ll want to see you, since it’s your birthday. You okay with that?” he asked.

‘Fuck no, I’m not okay with that’ in my head.

“Yeah, sure” I said out loud.

The house they lived in was the one where my mom started her labor pains. They sold it not long after I was born to open a short-lived Pizza Pete’s franchise. During that time, they lived in a trailer park in Burien and when the old house went back on the market, they bought it back immediately. Michael had been living with them since his transfer. He didn’t have a job or savings and his parents let him live in the downstairs TV room, until he could get on his feet. I imagine if my grandfather had his way, he’d have let Michael stay there indefinitely. I always felt like he was the Devil on his dad’s shoulder (oddly, I don’t think there was an angel on his other shoulder) that helped justify his day drinking and gambling at the shitty, smoke filled card room ironically named “Gold Nugget”. Which, coincidentally, was a place that Gary Leon Ridgway would frequent in between Green River murders.

We pulled into the covered car park as the little Toyota bathed the front windows of the little house with its dull headlights. The upstairs curtains parted and I saw the tiny bird-like frame of my grandmother peek out to see who was there. Then she let go of the drapes and opened the front door as Michael put the truck in park and turned it off.

As we got out of the truck, she stood at the top of the steps with a dishtowel, drying her hands.

“Well, there’s the birthday boy!” she said with a sharp smile. “You’re another year older and another year wiser, right?” she asked as she wrapped her paper-thin arms around me.

“Hi Grandma” I hugged her back and she walked us into the living room.

My grandfather, Francis, sat reclined in his worn leather chair and folded his newspaper onto his lap. He was not a quiet man and possessed all the physical grace of a club-footed ballerina. His shirt was wrinkled above his stomach and one button had popped open, exposing the white flesh if his belly. The legs of his pants were pushed up over his socks as if he’d slid onto the chair from above, legs first. His oversized orthopedic shoe (compensating for a weakened ankle; the by-product of an injury he suffered during WWII) had a thicker heel and sole that was supposed to help make his gait more even, but instead caused him to lumber like Frankenstein’s monster, due it’s excessive weight. For some reason, as a kid, every time I watched him walk it I would picture a bowling ball falling down a long flight of stairs. I’m still not sure why my brain chose that particular image, but somehow it suited him.

He adjusted his dirty glasses and swept his hand over the top of his sweaty head, flattening what was left of his long white hair, over the top of his head.

“Well, this just warms my heart” he croaked with a tinge of sarcasm.

“The apple and tree. Let’s hope they don’t fall too close together” my grandmother added and this made both of them break into a fit of laughter.

Michael wrapped his arms around his mother’s smallish frame and then walked by his father, reached out and tousled up his hair, which made his father spit out “sonofabitch” under his breath, as he quickly swept his meaty paw up to brush his hair back into place.

“What did you two boys get into today?” Isabelle asked.

Michael spoke before I could.

“I took Derek with me to see a couple of friends, then we had some lunch and drove around. Just talked and caught up” he shot me a sideways look I instantly recognized as the ‘keep your mouth shut’ signal.

The one thing we seemed to share genetically was an ability to lie without any effort or emotion whatsoever.

I tried not to make eye contact with either of them. I knew she could read me like a book and would have instantly known something was up. Instead, I made my way to the bathroom while he talked, so I could just hide.

I heard her ask if we were hungry and dad told them he had a late lunch and he just wanted to spend another hour or so catching up with me before he had to drive me back home.

‘Shit’ I thought. My stomach sank at the thought of another hour “hanging out” with Michael. I just wanted to go home.

Then I heard my grandmother say she needed to get my birthday card since I was here and it would save her trouble of mailing it.

I waited another couple of minutes and flushed an empty toilet before running my hands under the sink.

She was standing just outside the bathroom door when I came out.

“Happy Birthday, birthday boy!” she shouted and I was wound so tight I almost screamed.

“Since you’re here we’ll just give this to you now” she said as she thrust an envelope into my hands. It was bright yellow and had the word “Favorite Grandson” written in flawless calligraphy. I managed a ‘thank you’ and gave her a big hug before I walked over to Francis and gave him a half-hug, which was clumsy and lacked feeling. He smelled like stale peanuts.

Michael announced we were going downstairs before he had to take me back. I put the unopened card in my coat pocket and followed him, hoping none of them noticed me visibly cringing.

I followed him through the living room, past the kitchen and into the tiny office where my grandmother paid all of the bills and wrote her letters. It was littered with pictures of the savior, her grandchildren and old black and whites of her and a thinner, healthier Francis dressed in his Navy whites. He was a dashing young man with strong features and towered over Isabelle by a g foot and a half.

They both hollered “Goodnight” to us as we headed down the stairs from the office into the darkened TV room.

The TV room somehow got labeled as a “basement” even though it was actually at ground level and the picture window looked directly out on the front grill of the Toyota, parked mere feet away.

Michael flicked the switch on the room’s only lamp and the room filled with a warm, yellowish light, illuminating the single orange couch and the large wooden console television in the corner. There was a second door that led out to the covered driveway and a set of French doors, behind which sat the washer and dryer. The room was sparse. There was a small garbage bag, in the corner, with Michael’s clothes inside and two blazers on hangers, suspended on the curtain rod.

I had to remind myself that he’d only been on the other side of a prison fence for a week or so.

The couch was covered with two blankets and a single discolored pillow. He sat and propped his head on his elbow and with his other hand, reached into a pants pocket to remove the truck’s keys.

“Do me a favor, son” he said as he reached over to hand them to me. “Go outside and grab my briefcase out of the truck please?”

And for the second time I begrudgingly obliged him, took the keys and headed out the side door. I walked over to the still warm Toyota and retrieved the ratty case from the truck’s bed. It was substantially lighter than before.

I handed him the case and truck keys, which he dropped onto the side table, where the lamp sat.

I saw his thumbs roll the tumblers on the case’s combination lock and pop both latches open. He lifted the lid of his attaché, reached inside and pulled out four separate stacks of hundred dollar bills. Each stack was approximately 4 to 5 inches tall and contained by a thick rubber band. Michael sat two of the stacks next to him on the couch, removed the band from one and began peeling off bills, one at a time. Oddly, the stacks didn’t seem to change in size.

“I’m sorry we never made the movie, but you really helped me out today. Here…” he said as he handed me a stack of bills before wishing me a

‘happy birthday’.

I was frozen dumb as I sat holding a wad of cash and the day’s events came rushing back as it suddenly became very clear.

My mind started racing through every possible ‘what if’ scenario and it felt like there was a hole burning through my stomach.

“You could say thank you” Michael broke the momentary silence. He was staring at me, impatiently waiting for a response. My mind cartwheeled over and over as I could see myself arrested and the sound of cuffs as they locked my arms behind my back. I could imagine calling mom from jail, crying.

I was rapidly flipping through every single thing that could have gone wrong. I was on the ridge, staring down at a full-blown panic attack looking straight back at me.

I was also thinking about that wad of money in my hand. I wanted to hand it back but part of me also wanted to count it?

“Um…thank you?” I managed to stutter, while my eyes darted from his to the front window as I waited for the red and blue lights of all the police cars I expected to swarm my grandparent’s tiny house any moment.

“Um…” I started and he cut me off before I could finish.

“You really want to know? Because if I tell you, you’re an accomplice.”

‘Holy fucking shit!!’ my brain started hollering on a loop.

I looked directly into his eyes and thought very hard before answering him.

“Yes please” I blurted with shaky confidence.

He lowered his head and the smile disappeared completely.

His voice dropped to a low, whispering baritone and he scooted closer to me.

“That guy we met this morning is Phil. We used to work together before I went back inside.”

He continued, “I owed him some money and we had to work some things out today”, he paused and I could see the color leave his face as he drew a breath.

“He put his gun in my mouth and that’s why we had to leave in a hurry. I wanted to get out of there before he changed his mind.”

I felt cold all over before he went on.

“We moved almost two kilos of cocaine today. There’s a thousand dollars in your pocket for helping me. That was my cut. The rest is Phil’s.”

I’m not sure what my face was doing during his explanation, but he could tell I was shook. He put his hand on my shoulder and tried to change his tone.

“Son, look…when I pay him back, I’m done. I just have to tie up some of these loose ends and try not to get my head blown off. I’d really appreciate if you kept this between us. Not your mom, not your friends. Nobody. We’d both be in serious trouble.”

Fear was morphing into rage now: Why didn’t he give me a choice? Why on my birthday??!

I felt betrayed.

I felt tricked.

My anger was now bubbling up to the surface and I could tell he sensed it. Like a magician, he reached under the couch and produced a bottle of Dewar’s Scotch.

“Look” he said, holding the bottle in front of me, “why don’t you go upstairs and grab us a couple of glasses.”

I didn’t have the energy to protest and like a good automaton, I wordlessly rose from the couch, walked up the stairs, entered the kitchen and grabbed to small tumblers from a kitchen cabinet.

I made my way back downstairs and set both glasses on the side table with an over emphasized firmness.

“This won’t make everything better, but it’s a start” he said as he filled one of the glasses to the middle and the second one an inch from the bottom. Michael handed me the less full glass and extended his in a gesture to toast.

I just stared at my glass, desperately trying to think of a way to not have to put it in my mouth. I saw myself sitting at that early morning AA meeting, surrounded by grizzled old men and telling my story of the night I started drinking which was also, coincidentally, the same night I became a coke dealer.

Dad took a mouthful of Scotch, while I sipped mine with hesitation. It tasted like wet leather and cigar stubs to me, but I managed to swallow the first two sips without gagging on it. Everything tasted like fire and failure and I reflected on how nice my morning was before everything turned to shit.

Michael had already poured a second tumbler full of Scotch, all the way to the top and took a largish swig from the glass, emptying it by half.

“I’m sorry, son” he said, with actual sincerity in his voice.

He continued staring into his glass as he spoke,

“I didn’t want us to start out this way. Believe me, I thought about this day a lot when I was inside, and this was never my plan.”

This little glimpse of vulnerability, along with the Scotch, helped lower me back to DEFCON 3.

“One more for both of us” he said and filled my still half full glass with more Dewar’s. Then he topped off his own. He tipped the glass back and swallowed its contents whole.

I stared at the full glass of peaty brown Scotch. Its oaky musk was already burning my nose. I put it to my lips, closed my eyes and emptied most of it. I tried not to let it touch my tongue, before swallowing but it didn’t matter, because it already begun its conflagration inside my mouth and then the coughing started. My throat was on fire and my eyes filled with tears.

Then, as if by magic, my brain became warm and suddenly all the white noise and panic just…disappeared.

“I was on trial for murder once. It was in the papers. That’s not why I was in this last time.” This confession seemingly came out of thin air and he grabbed the bottle, pouring another full glass. He sipped this time.

“When was this?” I asked.

“Seventy-seven or eight” his words were beginning to slur. “I was acquitted, so I got to come home.”

I poured my own glass this time and downed it as Michael drunkenly slapped a hand on my knee and leaned directly into my face before slurring, “I’ve done some bad, bad things. I’m a bad guy. But there’s nothing harder than killing a man after you’ve seen a picture of his kids.”

Then he leaned back onto the couch and put his hands over his face and after a couple minutes of us both sitting in silence, the snoring began.

I don’t know if was the fear or the adrenaline or both, but I was instantly sober. My mind felt clear and I had my legs back. I stood up and covered him with the blankets balled up next to him and made my way up the stairs and into the living room. I pulled one of the knit shawls from off the back of the couch and wrapped myself up as I leaned my head on one of the tiny throw pillows.

I replayed our conversation over and over in my head until I eventually fell asleep.

Francis and Isabelle were up very early and when they found me on the couch, they roused me awake.

“Good morning, sleepy head” my grandmother gently whispered. “What a surprise to see you here?”

I was quick to cover, “We stayed up late talking and dad fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake him up.”

My grandfather was already pulling his pants on, in the middle of the living room.

“I’ll get a shirt on and drive you back. I’m sure your mother is worried sick about you, son” he said as looped his belt around his sagging waist.

“I’m sure you didn’t tell her you were seeing your dad? Am I right?” Isabelle asked.

I nodded and she added, “Well, you can sneak in without waking her up and say you got home late. She’d be beside herself if she knew you two got together.”

The sun was barely up and there was low mist covering the roads as we drove in silence. Our apartment was only a few miles from their house and the drive was mercifully short. I thanked my grandfather for the ride and before I got out he wished me one last ‘happy birthday’ and then said, “Your dad has a good heart, son. He does bad things, but he doesn’t mean to. I pray for him every day. You should too.”

I managed a half-hearted “I will, sir. Thanks again for the ride” and rushed to shut the car door so I could get back to the normalcy of home.

A plume of steam followed his Buick as he drove away and I took one large breath, let it out and made me way back home. On my way up the stairs I checked my pocket and the wad of cash was still there, then I checked my pocket for the card, felt it and pulled it out. I slid my pinkie under the corner flap and peeled it open in one move.

I didn’t read it, I just slowly opened it and let the check slide into my palm; it was fifty dollars. I slid the check in my pocket, next to cash and finished climbing the stairs.

Mom was still asleep and I was already preparing my alibi for when she grilled me about coming home late.

She never did.

EPILOGUE

Years later I discovered that my father was actually in Lompoc for orchestrating a million-dollar arms deal that included (among multiple assault rifles, surface to air launchers and surveillance equipment) a nuclear bomb.

Federal agents surrounded my grandparent’s house as SWAT team snipers perched on the roofs of neighbor’s homes and uniformed agents pulled everyone out of the home and forced them all onto the lawn at gunpoint, before finally taking my father into custody.

After a lengthy trial, it was discovered that Michael did not possess nor have the intention of delivering any of the above-mentioned weapons of mass destruction, he was sentenced to 13 years and served 9.

The buyers he’d spent months with, setting up this sale, were undercover FBI agents.

This was a year after he, along with two other accomplices, snuck into Robert Wyckoff’s home and shot him three times, twice in the back of the head, execution style. Wyckoff, an attorney, was apparently under FBI surveillance for money laundering and racketeering. He was also handling a probate matter for Michael’s then wife, Nygen. Wyckoff was seated at the desk in his home office with a picture of his children facing him.

4 notes · View notes

dipulb3 · 3 years

Text

2021 Audi RS Q8 provides supercar thrills for the whole family

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2021-audi-rs-q8-provides-supercar-thrills-for-the-whole-family/

2021 Audi RS Q8 provides supercar thrills for the whole family

High-performance SUVs with coupe-like rooflines are definitely a fully fledged class of their own, with the BMW X6 M Competition, Mercedes-AMG GLE63 and Porsche Cayenne Turbo available today. All boast a dash of additional style over traditionally shaped SUVs, not to mention heaps of power and punched-up handling capabilities. The newcomer in this class is the Audi RS Q8, a performance CUV so well-honed it now holds the production SUV lap record of 7 minutes and 42.2 seconds around Germany’s Nürburgring.

Big performance and daily comfort

Sleek looks inside and out

Excellent cabin tech

Don’t Like

Lacks drama

Light steering

Can get real pricey fast

Lower-key performer

What does the Audi’s Nürburgring lap record mean? To car dorks it means bragging rights. For everyone else, not much. But this basic tale of the tape is something people of all automotive knowledge bases will likely understand. The heart and soul of this achievement is the RS Q8’s engine: a 4.0-liter twin-turbocharged V8 shoving out 591 horsepower and 590 pound-feet of torque with the latter having your back from 2,200 to 4,500 rpm.

Channeling power to all of the RS Q8’s wheels is an eight-speed automatic transmission, allowing this SUV to reach 60 mph in just 3.7 seconds, on its way to a top speed of 190 mph. (Note: This top speed is only unlocked if you spring for the upgraded carbon ceramic brakes.) All things considered, those are bonkers stats. But you know what? The BMW, Mercedes and Porsche all replicate that 0-to-60-mph time.

2021 Audi RS Q8 review: Fast, fashionable and practical

See all photos

In the real world, the Audi’s drivetrain surprisingly doesn’t behave like an angry, hyperactive brute. From a dig, the RS Q8 doesn’t launch with crazy gusto. Instead, it smoothly gets out of the hole, pulls strong to the engine’s 6,750-rpm redline and rattles off seamless, well-timed gear changes. If you aren’t paying close attention, it’s easy to get well past posted speed limits on surface streets, thanks to the progressive throttle tuning and low gurgle from the exhaust. You get civilized aggression from the powertrain. The RS Q8 is never loud, shouty or harsh when going about its business, though I wish it were a bit more raw and loud in Dynamic mode.

Continuing the smooth theme, technological bits like a 48-volt mild-hybrid system and cylinder deactivation go unnoticed. There’s no wonkiness in the brake pedal and you’d be hard pressed to tell when the V8 is running on some or all of its cylinders. Those efforts contribute to EPA-estimated 13 mpg city and 19 mpg highway ratings, putting the RS Q8 on par with the rest of its competitive set. I observed 13.1 mpg during a week of testing.

Dialed-up dynamics

From a performance standpoint, the RS Q8’s handling chops are its most impressive attribute. To help this 5,490-pounder hustler harder it’s got a rear-biased all-wheel-drive system, torque-vectoring rear differential, air suspension, all-wheel steering, active anti-roll bars and upgraded 23-inch Y-spoke wheels with 295/35 series tires (22-inchers come standard).

A higher handling IQ comes courtesy in part from some massive 23-inch Continental tires.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Put the Audi Drive Select system into its Dynamic setting and the RS Q8 hunkers down and hangs on tight around cloverleaf on-ramps. Credit the tires’ big ol’ contact patches and all the performance features’ technological wizardry for all the grip and composure this crossover exhibits when driven hard. Getting the RS Q8 sloppy on the street requires caning it way harder than you responsibly should.

Instilling even more confidence behind the wheel are the aforementioned carbon ceramic brakes. The $9,000 option means there are 10-piston calipers clamping down on monstrous 17.3-inch rotors up front and still-darn-big 14.6-inch rotors with single-piston calipers around back. Like everything else, pressing down on the left pedal doesn’t yield crazy initial bite, allowing for smooth brake applications. A little more pressure unlocks the big stopping muscle when you want to go deeper into brake zones or perform panic stops.

In normal Audi fashion, lightly weighted steering is a sticking point in Dynamic. I prefer having a touch more heft in the wheel, but I have no complaints about the steering’s responses. That’s not to say there aren’t times when the light steering is beneficial — when you put the car in Comfort mode for normal commuting, for example. Speaking of commuting, the RS Q8 does fine here, with the adaptive dampers taking the edge off all but the biggest roadway hazards. In addition to the great grip they provide, the big Continental tires deserve kudos for their lack of noise rolling down the road.

Weightier steering feel for the RS Q8 is on the wish list.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

RS style and tech

This RS Q8 painted Daytona Grey Pearl with its extra optional styling goodies is certainly a looker. The changes to the RS over standard Q8 models aren’t super drastic, with more aggressive bumpers, honeycomb grille inserts, oval exhaust tips and slicker wheels. Add in a generous carbon fiber diet on the front lip, grille surround, mirror caps, tailgate trim and rear bumper valance, and blacked-out details sprinkled about give the RS Q8 a low-key, but still sinister vibe.

Head inside the RS Q8 and the design is simplistic with lots of straight lines. The front seats offer lots of support to hold riders in place with RS honeycomb accent stitching on the inserts. These chairs offer a massage function with seven different kneading patterns that I love.

Build quality in this Audi is first-rate with lots of high-end materials placed throughout the cabin, like Alcantara on the headliner and door panels, matte carbon fiber dash trim and leather-wrapped and stitched surfaces for most of the big panels. If you’re worried about the faster roofline cutting into second-row headroom, don’t be, because there’s still sufficient space for normal adults. Cargo room also isn’t too shabby with a healthy 30.5 cubic feet on offer that grows to 60.7 cubic feet with the back seats folded.

A simple design and fantastic build quality highlight the RS Q8’s interior.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Taking care of infotainment in the RS Q8 is Audi’s MMI Touch Response system that is simply stellar. The dual-touchscreen setup has an 8.6-inch display on the bottom for climate function controls and a 10.1-inch display up top for things like the rockin’ 17-speaker Bang & Olufsen audio setup, navigation with Google Maps imagery, phone functions and a Wi-Fi hotspot. It’s all intuitive to work through, offering quick responses to inputs and haptic feedback to let you know a command has been entered. The clean center console layout is void of many hard controls, but it does retain a traditional volume knob, which is a very good thing.

On the driver-assist technology front, all RS Q8s get standard forward-collision warning with automatic emergency braking, blind-spot monitoring, rear-cross traffic alert, a 360-degree camera and auto high beams. A $1,750 Driver Assistance Package adds a few more tricks to this Audi’s arsenal like a great adaptive cruise control system, lane-keep assist, traffic sign recognition and a head-up display.

The MMI Touch Response system is a Roadshow favorite.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

How I’d spec it

This test car is a well-kitted-out RS Q8. It’s got the aforementioned $9,000 carbon ceramic brakes, $4,500 carbon fiber exterior bits, $2,950 black outside trim and bigger wheels, $1,750 Driver Assistance Package, $595 paint job and $4,800 worth of interior extras. On top of all that, it also has a $750 Towing Package enabling it to pull 7,700 pounds. Add in a $1,095 destination charge and you get the not-so-unsubstantial $140,590 as-tested price of this car.

For my ideal spec, I’d spring for the $595 Daytona Gray paint job and the $3,250 Black Optic Package. On the inside I need the massaging seats that are part of the $3,150 Luxury package that also requires you to equip the $2,000 Executive Package that gets me soft-close doors, the head-up display and acoustic glass. This pushes my Audi to a cool $124,590, which is expensive, but certainly more palatable.

The 2021 Audi RS Q8 starts at $115,595, including $1,095 for destination.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Radical family wagon

Of the swoopy midsize performance SUVs available today, the Audi RS Q8 is a standout in several categories. I think exterior styling trumps the BMW X6 M, Mercedes-AMG GLE63 Coupe and the Porsche Cayenne Coupe. The Audi also gets my vote for cabin design and technology over the BMW, Mercedes and Porsche. It isn’t, however, my winner in the performance column; the Cayenne Turbo Coupe is a bit more involving from behind the wheel.

In the end, though, the RS Q8 my top pick. It’s a head-turner with a great cabin, best-in-class tech and offers all the space and comfort a family should reasonably need. That’s enough to outweigh the less emotional drive experience, considering this car’s main goal is to be daily-driven. But really, none of these performance SUV-coupes are bad, all offering sub-4-second 0-to-60-mph times and physics-defying handling. Pick the one you like best, and if it isn’t the Audi, I’ll be here to remind you that yours doesn’t hold the Nürburgring record.

0 notes

adrenalineguide · 6 years

Text

Volkswagen’s Golf GTI Autobahn and Kia’s Stinger GT Limited: Bringing fun back into driving

Text and Photos by Michael Hozjan

Whether you like it or not summer is over and with it comes the fall driving season. A time of year usually reserved for amateur car rallies, a last look at a vintage car show in New England, apple picking with some wine tasting in the townships, and of course leaf peeping in the Laurentians. I usually save this time of year to bring you a roadster or two but this year I’ve had so much fun with the two sedans featured here that I just had to include them as best picks for hitting autumn’s open road. Oh and of course you can bring another couple along for the fun.

Volkswagen Golf GTI Autobahn: the original hot hatch offers more than performance.

Every once in a while I come across a car that fits me like the proverbial glove, a vehicle that just feels right. Volkswagen’s Golf GTI is one such vehicle. The original hot hatch instills sporty performance, comfort and practicality but there are a number of features that separates it from other hot hatches, first and foremost is its overall feel. It’s quality personified, German engineering at a bargain price. Plant your butt in the Recaro buckets and your thighs and ribs are cradled in a way few other cars in this price range… and for that matter many pricier cars do. The thick leather steering wheel feels like you’re in control long before you even turn the ignition on.

The GTI takes the practicality and roominess of the Golf, tosses out the 1.8L four cylinder and replaces it with a 220 horsepower 2.0L turbocharged four cylinder, ten more than last year. Even better, it pumps out a whopping 258 lb-ft of torque that peaks at a low 1500 rpm so, yes it sends you back in the seat. Cosmetically the GTI adds a more aggressive front fascia in keeping with its persona that is highlighted by its trademark red stripe on the grille, and dual exhaust. If you miss the GTI badging, red brake calipers easily set it apart from the run of the mill Golf.

Two trim levels are offered starting with the base GTI at a very reasonable $30,595 equipped with a 6-speed manual transmission and the trademark plaid seating. The upscale Autobahn starts at $35,895 My Autobahn came with the same plaid seating (thankfully) which is a no cost option over the standard leather units, and the 6-speed automatic DSG. More on this $1400 option later.

The Autobahn package replaces the base car’s 17 inch tire/wheel combo with 18 inch units, an 8.0”high rez touchscreen to support the nav, cd player and other infotainment paraphernalia that we’ve come to expect from today’s rides. It is one of the most user- friendly multimedia systems on the market. Take note Honda. An 8-speaker Fender Premium Audio System with a subwoofer is included for those times you want to listen to your favorite songs instead of the sweet melody of the powerplant. Additionally, the Autobahn buyer gets LED headlights with adaptive front lights that steer into the turn as well as a panoramic sunroof. My tester also came with the $1750 Driver Assistance Package that includes adaptive cruise, blind spot and rear traffic alert, autonomous emergency braking with pedestrian detection and park assist.

Aside from the usual audio adjustments, nav controls, the infotainment screen also lets you know how much boost the turbo is churning out and even how many g’s you’re pulling on acceleration or in a corner. OK that last one may be a little mickey-mouse.

Rear seat passengers will profit from the straight roof with ample headroom and there’s enough (22.8 cu.ft.) luggage space with the rear seats up to carry a weekend’s worth of luggage for four to your destination and 53 cubic feet with the rear bench folded. And getting to the destination is what the GTI excels in.

On the road

Now in its seventh generation, the refinements just keep coming. Drivers will appreciate the larger brakes pirated from the Golf R parts bin. I didn’t experience any brake fade through my trip in the back roads of Quebec’s Laurentians and managed to scare the heck out of a Boxster driver, that ‘s how flat this car handles. If there was a weak link, it was the all-season rubber more tuned for a family sedan than a performance car.

The 6-speed dual clutch DSG automatic is a wonderful piece of engineering with launch control that will propel you down the road faster than any manual transmission, no matter how quick your shifting skills. There’s also the ability to go through the gears manually on the steering column mounted paddles. The GTI also features four driving modes, Eco, normal, sport and custom. Switch modes and both throttle and steering input response changes. I question however why the Eco mode, which lessens throttle response to the point of blandness, and makes the steering too light, why VW would include it in a car known for performance. Besides I still managed average 7L/100km even with my spirited drives.

Electronically controlled limited slip differential helps you around the essess making an already great handler that much better.

But don’t think that for a moment the car’s performance suspension jars your spine. Even in Sport mode the GTI’s ride is comfortable, soaking up all but the biggest road imperfections.

Not all is perfect

Sadly, not all is perfect in the Land of Oz, and neither is the GTI. The sunroof in my tester had an annoying squeak and the DSG (Direct-Shift Gearbox), as good as it is, would shut the engine off at red lights. Forcing me to restart the car manually as the stop/start feature deactivated. Volkswagen is already thinking of dropping the DSG trans because of complaints of hesitation when the light turns green – something I discovered is remedied by leaving it in manual mode. Lastly the tire pressure monitoring system kicked in with an erroneous low tire warning – a common ailment.

The verdict

Tough choice between the base car and the Autobahn, but having spent a week with the Autobahn, I would have to opt for the upscale model and forego the $1400 DSG. Regular readers know I’m biased towards manuals and with a car that’s as communicative as the GTI, the manual would just be that much more seductive.

The Golf offers mature styling, combing luxury, performance and agile handling like no other hot hatch. No wonder it has such a big following. Oh and while your spouse might say no way to many performance vehicles, the GTI may just be the wolf in sheep’s clothing to get you to live your dream.

Price as tested: $39,045*

Still not enough power? There’s always the 292 horsepower all-wheel-drive Golf R…. it’s only money.

* Dealer prep and destination fees not included

Kia Stinger GT Limited: Kia’s big gamble brings big smiles

Suddenly the purveyor of sensible, economical, compact sedans and SUVs, Kia, has gone ape sh…oops, stir crazy and released a sedan that goes against everything it’s been known for and in the process released a performance sedan that I haven’t had this much fun with since my first time behind the steering wheel of Porsche’s Panamera. Ya, it’s that good.

Like the GTI, you just want to drive this car. Forget about the available 255 hp, 2.0L turbocharged four cylinder available in the base GT Line, the 3.3L twin turbo V6 mill is what your soul wants.

You might laugh when I tell you that the Stinger is touted as Korea’s answer to BMW’s 3-Series, but stay tuned and you’ll see why it’s not that insane of a claim. Penned by the same man that designed the Audi TT and the ’97 VW Golf, Peter Schreyer, the Stinger brings Teutonic design and engineering to the masses at affordable prices.

While the Stinger is available in either rear or all-wheel-drive elsewhere in the world, we Canucks only get the all-wheel-drive version. Available in three different trim levels beginning with the base GT Line which other than the 2.0L four includes Kia’s usual array of more bang for your buck - like leather seating, 18” wheels, 7” infotainment screen and a wireless phone charger for the paltry sum of $41, 895. Next up the corporate ladder is the GT adding the deliciously quick 3.3L GDI twin turbo V6, Brembo brakes, 19”Michelin performance rubber, dynamic stability control and a full-width sunroof. The GT Limited adds premium Nappa leather seating, heads up display, a 15-speaker Harman Kardon sound system, eight-inch infotainment screen with multimedia interface and nav.

Schreyer has moved up the ranks in Kia from designer to president. It’s easy to say that the Stinger is his baby and you can see his signature touches in things like the flat bottom steering wheel.

The end result is an edgy four-door grand touring sedan yet mature enough not to be mistaken for something out of a video game. There’s not a bad angle to the car but my personal favorite has to be the three quarter rear view, an angle that most other drivers will see. Schreyer’s design successfully combines luxury touches with sporty and stylish accents. Incorporating a high opening hatch to the family sedan eases access to the 23.3 cu.ft of cargo space in what otherwise would have been a miniscule trunk opening.

Sit in the cockpit and you’re surrounded by metal, leather, plastic, but it all works. Schreyer’s love of airplanes is evident with the round aviation style vents on the dash and aluminum accents. Like the Sorento I reported on a couple of months ago, the Stinger’s interior is slick. The tilt and telescopic heated steering wheel has a memory feature found in pricier cars.

Luxury accouterments include air-cooled/heated Nappa leather front seats, heated rear seats, wireless cell charging, 360 degree camera system, as well as the usual gamut of items we find in today’s cars like lane keep, Android Auto/Apple CarPlay. The Stinger has the largest front seat passenger legroom I’ve seen in a very long time – think limo rear seat. Even with the front buckets pushed all the way back, the back seat still offers the adults in the back ample legroom but headroom is tight.

The open road

We’re talking autumn drives and the Kia surprises and feeds every sense of the driving experience. Schreyer saw a vision for Kia and he brought in ex BMW M Division boss, Albert Biermann to perform his magic on the Stinger.

Mr. Biermann’s input can be seen in the adrenaline inducing performance goodies which include items that are familiar to the Bavarian marque, like big Brembo brakes, 225/40R19 Michelin performance rubber and hi-performance shocks. The Stinger GT is the company’s first car to feature a continuously adaptive suspension system.

Yes we’re not getting the rear-wheel drive car but the good news is that this all-wheel-driver is rear-wheel drive biased so you can still toss the rear out, but the awd system will kick in and transfer up to 50% of the available torque to the front wheels when the need arises, so it’ll keep you out of trouble and make you look good in front of your friends.

The 8-speed automatic (with paddle shifters mounted on the steering wheel) is one of the smoothest quick shifting trannys going. Whether your climbing a steep grade, coming down the same grade, exiting the highway or accelerating to pass a slow semi, this tranny doesn’t miss a beat.

Set the launch control and the 376 lb-ft of torque will rocket you from zero to 100km just shy of 5 seconds, that’s faster than the V6 Porsche Panamera and the heads up display will keep you informed without taking your eyes off the road. Like the GTI, the Stinger’s Sport mode offers quick acceleration and crisp handling while not sacrificing anything in terms of cabin comfort. Steering is nicely weighted and the car has a nearly 50/50 weight balance thanks to the bulk of V6 being mounted longtitudely aft of the front axle.

This thing feels like a much smaller car, its agile, crisp and light on its feet. It corners flat and takes everything that you can throw at it and comes back for more. Oh the large scoops flanking the grille and the vents behind the front wheels aren’t cosmetic, they’re open to let fresh air in and hot air to cool the big Brembos and keep fade to a minimum, not that I experienced any on my road trips.

The verdict

Affordable performance sedan isn’t an oxymoron any more. Kia has successfully managed to bring us German engineering and upped the ante for other manufacturers to give us affordable performance sedans. The affordability doesn’t end at the dealer; my fuel bill showed I averaged a very impressive 9.0L/100km with mostly highway travel.

Kia is gambling a lot on getting enthusiasts to take them as a serious performance/grand touring car company. The Stinger has won accolades from around the globe and rightfully so. Those of you who are still skeptics need only remember that it wasn’t too long ago that we never thought Toyota or Honda would be in the luxury car business going up against the likes of Mercedes. Stopping at the local shopping mall I was mauled by twenty something’s who wanted a closer look at the car.

“There’s a guy with a white one that works down the street and I saw another red yesterday.” It seems the younger generation is open minded to a Kia performance sedan and I’d be proud to have the Stinger in my driveway.

If you’re looking for driving excitement and have been visiting Acura, Audi, Lexus and Porsche dealerships, do yourself and your family a favor and run don’t walk to you Kia dealership. Oh and did I mention the …warranty.

Go ahead and book that weekend getaway in the Presidential Mountains of New England, you’ve got a great excuse to go.

Price as tested: $51,855*

*Includes freight, colour charge, and A/C tax

Oh and if you bring the kiddies to school, you’ll be the coolest mom and dad in the world pulling up in either of these rides.

#vw #vwgolf #vwgti #kia #stinger #hothatch #audi #acura #lexus #porsche #panamera

1 note · View note