reposting this commission i got from @neonjawbone a little while back! these are two characters from a sideblog that i'm working on shaping up to put into underbelly and i love them very much <3 the guy with the short hair is luther and the guy with the braid is cam and there's a lot going on with them just in general

commission from @mushroom-gt of the darlings!!!! look how soft and nice this is oouuuhhh

x Secrets of The Lake: The Company of Misery and Pain

{ Chapter 5 }

Summary: Vladimir Masters’ family tree has always been tainted by secrets swept under the rug. From generation to generation there have been countless reasons the Masters’ family had seemed to keep private from the public. Even to this day, Vladimir was no exception. But what was one to do when a restless spirit from the settlement years finally breaks free from restraints and demands you answer for your ancestor’s crimes? Vladimir doesn’t know. However, Clockworks does.

Notes: We just having fun, rewriting some of the canon, new adventure new characters. I will apologize now for any grammar, spelling, weird sentence structuring in advance. My brain writes faster than my fingers and even when I go back through to reread it I still miss things. Sorry about that!

Word Count: 3063

It wasn’t that it was hard to pinpoint where things began to fall apart for the Masters family. Rather it was who was to blame when all of it happened all at once. Could it have been the people they married or was it the family itself that had the bad luck? Either way, the Masters family had a very long list of unfortunate events that seemed to flock like birds to a nest. Vlad sat at his computer scanning through the digital archives of his family. He never truly sat down and looked through all of this, when he was younger it was more like being shown a picture and being asked to guess how far apart they were in life and death. His father did it often trying to brag about how headstrong all the men in the family were.

So many names, so much trading property or what seemed like stealing others. Not that Vlad was surprised at all by that, how else do you think he got where he was in life, it was just the game of business. Not having many divorces and remarrying, now that was surprising, he would have thought the men in his family would have had the least of the draw, or he was just shamefully projecting. Of course the latter could be farther from the truth when Vlad went through two stepmothers. Both his and his first stepmother died of unknown causes which left the last one living the longest. Luckily they were both lovely and the sweetest of women, but maybe would have been better off not in the family. At last Mrs Helena was alive, he hoped.

Vlad had scrolled to the very beginning of the files which started in the mid 16th century. The family name had just been respelt to the changing Germanic language and someone named Alger had married and inherited land in southern modern Germany; he died of an infection in the mouth at 32. From there they had seven children but only two survived due to the plague. From the two, only one was a boy and he carried the family name and expanded the family east. After that was a long line of names that either was married in, inherit, how they died, and weird scribbled notes off to the side Vlad couldn’t read. As the 16th century files ended the 17th century file started and was a lot more organized than the former. Vlad could actually read what jobs the males in his family had and where they actually ended up near the end of their life. The Masters family had once again gone through a name respelling and this time they were established merchants.

As he combed through the notes and names, Vlad had this weird ‘yes’ ‘no’ feeling, so far everyone had been a ‘no’ and his gut told him he was getting closer. Closer to what? Not sure, but he followed it anyway hoping to reach the end. But when he came across blank records, he was closer to the mid  17 century. The last family was the house of Anya with three dependents, a wife named Yolan and two sons, Vladan and Luther. In the notes it said that Anya served the ruler as a travelling merchant and was paid wealthy for it; he died of poison. The family lived in the furthest part of the eastern Germanic states which meant they would have been closer to migrating towards Slavic area. But after that there was nothing but empty rows. That was 50 years missing and that didn’t sit right with Vlad. Surely there had to be something or someone during that time. With how detailed the records were so far there had to be something- anything.

Vlad scrolled down to the beginning of the 18th century and that’s where the names picked back up with Vladan being the head of the house. There was an asterisk next to Vladan's name that read ‘only surviving heir’. Vlad sighed, of course, the family had died and was only survived by a single son. He could only imagine the tragedy that could have happened to the rest of the family.

‘Yes’

Vlad’s gut pulled as he read over the name again and the notes beside it. This man went through four wives whose names weren’t listed other than ‘wife 1… wife 2...’  and only had a daughter.

“Seems like misery was your only friend,” Vlad mumbled as he looked on and saw that the daughter took over for her father once he died of heart issues, and moved the family due to marriage. She didn’t change her name nor give up belongings and had five sons but only two of them had her last name. It seemed that it was on purpose for the lack of arguing on who got what when she died. The husband on the other hand disappeared early into their marriage, “You were truly a Wollstonecraft it seems, Miss Ursula Masters.” Sadly tragedy struck her down as well as she died of horse trampling. After Ursula the next four families had lost all the old money they once sat on due to wars and the collapsing economies. They did however maintain their pride and kept building themselves back up. By the end of the 18th century, the Masters family was in Russia and had branched off.

‘No’

Vlad knotted his brows as his gut once again pulled at him as a sign of the wrong direction. Rolling his eyes tired from looking at small prints and shitty handwriting he scrolled back up to the empty space.

“So you’re from right here it seems,” Vlad rubbed his chin and groaned. “What in the world happened and how did you get here?” As Vlad tried to think of another way to figure out the gap, the phone at his desk began to ring and broke him away from his trance. Deciding that that was enough for the day, Vlad closed his laptop and picked up the phone. Vlad had been so invested in his ghostly business he nearly forgot about his human one. Vlad pulled the phone away from his ear and rolled his neck as he tried to put on his Vlad Co. facade. Vlad pulled the phone back in when he heard a question and he politely asked the woman on the other side to repeat herself.

“I asked if you will still be holding the theme banquet this coming Wednesday.” Sha! Vlad had forgotten all about the company banquet. As a boss he felt it was important to give your employees a ‘thank you’, especially if there was company corruptness being swept under the rug. So as a treat every so often Vlad would announce he would host a banquet and give everyone the day off. Vlad felt his eye twitch as he thought over whether or not he should cancel it. Wednesday was in three days and he hadn’t even told his ghostly staff about it.

As his mind thought it over the words came out by themselves, “Yes.” Yes? Yes?! He had no time to play host when he had a ghost to deal with and any other madness being thrown his way. Why in the world would he say yes?

“That’s wonderful! Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the theme?” The woman said, eagerly.

“Well I do mind, that’s my little secret. Surely you wouldn’t want to take the surprise away from yourself, now would you.” Vlad gagged as he sweetly replied and heard the woman become flustered.

“You’re right,” Of course I am . “ Well I can’t wait to see what you put together, Sir. You never cease to amaze us.”

“Hmm, yes, now if you excuse me, Miss Wright, I have some emails to look over before prepping.”

“Very well, Sir good-” Vlad didn’t wait for the woman’s goodbye and hung up, he dropped his face into his hands and held his breath as he tried to mentally organize himself.

Clockwork? Check.

Vengeful spirit out to kill him? Check.

Nearly being torn apart? Check.

Waking up three days later? Check?

Prepping for a banquet he forgot all about? Wonderful .

Vlad stood up from his desk chair and stretched his back, he needed to get out of the house for fresh air. Maybe go for a walk or if he was feeling up to it, a quick flight, then come back and start on what was being served at the banquet and what the theme was. As he walked around his desk and reached out a hand to draw the handle he heard the low rumble of bickering outside his door. He used his ghost sense to hone in on it and only shook his head in disappointment.

“Yeah well I could have been there for backup if you had let me go with you. How come he got to go with you?” Dani crossed her arms angrily and shot Danny the meanest eyes she could muster.

“I didn’t bring him along, he showed up by himself, he was supposed to be on his way to pick you up, remember.” Danny retorted as she and he rounded the corner to Vlad’s office. “Besides I told you it was dangerous and you would have only gotten hurt.”

“No way I’m like super badass!” Dani yelled.

“Language, especially in this house, Danielle.” Vlad opened the door and looked on towards the children. Dani turned away and grumbled as Danny sighed and gave a quick wave.

“Either she was gonna fly here and pester you by herself or I would at least try to stop her, as you can see I didn’t do much.” Danny motioned towards his clone and she stuck out a tongue.

“Well at least you showed up at the right time, I have news I think you will like to hear.” Vlad rubbed the bridge of his nose and gestured for Danny to come inside. Guess the walk would have to wait.

“Boy would I!” Dani stepped out in front of Danny and Vlad quickly stuck a hand out.

“Miss Masters, you have other things to do. This problem has nothing to do with you and I would much prefer it if you stop trying to be a part of it.” Vlad put on his father voice and it saw how it made Dani upset. She looked back at Danny for help only for the older teen narrowed his eyes and looked away. Vlad gave her the all knowing look of ‘you are out ruled’ and Dani stomped her foot. She had been told no so much in the last few days of wanting to help.

“I swear you two still treat me like some weak baby. I have control over myself and my powers, stop doing that!” The hurt in Dani’s voice almost made the others cave but Vlad stood by his words and shook his head.

“I know you’re not a baby, far from, but this isn’t your fight. Now run along.” Dani's face nearly turned red and she flew off through the walls to god knows where.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt to let her listen,” Danny rubbed his arm, feeling very much like a villain. Vlad on the other hand deadpanned him and turned to walk into his office.

“You should know what happens to those that become too curious, they only get in trouble.” Vlad’s monotone voice irked Danny, the jab was unnecessary considering they both ended up as they were due to curiosity. Once they were seated in their respective chairs Vlad opened his laptop again. Danny watched him scroll through files before turning the computer around for him to look at. Danny had no idea how to read any of this, cocking an eyebrow he shook his head.

“Explain,” Danny said.

“As I looked through everything, I noticed that my family record suddenly stopped between the late 1650s to the 1700s.” Vlad began pointing towards the screen. “This may sound odd but I had a feeling this might be where Tayonna is from. However, it doesn’t make sense because there is no mention of coming to America. This name, Vladan, is the only surviving member of his family and he stayed in the empire and got married. He was one of the sons of the family before the gap.” Vlad turned the computer back around and stared heavily at the name trying to make something of it.

“Is there any way for you to throw money on this and figure out what happened in those 50 years?” Danny asked with a shrug, surely, Vlad had that power considering he was a billionaire. Vlad did not have that power. Vlad blinked a few times and shook his head.

“If only it was that easy, however, I have no idea where to look nor do I have time to fly out to one of the thirteen colonies and check.”

“Get an assistant to do it, you have plenty of those and I know it, Miss Kate is a really cool lady.” Danny smirked, he had the honours of meeting a few of Vlad’s assistants who sometimes had very nasty things to say about him. Which Danny promised not to repeat back and enjoyed listening to. Truly, what man has a random sweet tooth at 3am and demands a strawberry shortcake?

“I doubt any of them would wish to take a random trip at the moment.” Vlad thought over his few underhands and couldn’t think of a single one he could trust with this. They all had their pros and cons and yet Vlad found himself cancelling all of them.

“When did you become considerate of anyone but yourself?” Danny asked with a cocked brow and pressed lips. Vlad was a bit taken back by the question but knew where Danny was coming from.

“When I decided to stop playing childish games with a child. My company is not a playpen and my workers are not playmates I can throw away.” Vlad answered with a hiss on his lips and Danny mumbled a ‘whatever’ before throwing his hands up and standing to his feet.

“I still say send one of them out to Ellis Island to find something.”

“Ellis Island was built in the late 1800s not the 16oos, Daniel.” Danny opened his mouth then quickly closed it.

“I knew that… I knew that.”

“Of course,” Vlad wore his annoying amused smirk that he always gave Danny when he messed up. “But I will take your suggestion into consideration since it’s something rather than nothing.”

“That’s the spirit. Get it?” Danny shot Vlad finger guns and a wink and the man snickered and walked around his desk to head towards the door.

“Besides, it's not like we can ask Tayonna herself.” Vlad added as he opened the door and allowed Danny to head out first.

“Dude, I think the last person she wants to see is you or me.” Danny snorted. Vlad only hummed and they walked towards the stairs to bring them to the first floor. Danny B-lined his way to the kitchen and quickly found home in Vlad’s frig. Vlad joined him and made himself a cup of coffee for his midday crisis. “Besides, the last place I left her was at the bottom of the pond as I drug your lifeless body away.” Danny shoved a gogurt in his mouth and raised his eyebrows. Vlad huffed and looked over the top of his cup.

“Don’t remind me. Those are Dani’s.”

“She’ll understand, her gogurts are going towards a great cause. And I know how much Masters love donating towards “ good causes ”.” Danny wiggled his brows and ghosted another hand into the frig to pull out another snack to shove into his pocket.

“Don’t say anything to me when she finds out. I’ve seen nothing.” Vlad chuckled behind his drink and playfully turned the other way.

“Oh ha ha.” Danny finished his first snack and threw it away. He pulled out the next and started in on it, he made an about face and gave Vlad a concerned expression.

“We gotta make it up to her, she really wanted to help, but this is hella dangerous and she could get hurt. Tayonna isn’t gone, she’s still in the ghost zone and we both have to go back in there to deal with her.” Danny voicing his worries for not only Dani’s feelings but the threat she kept trying to chase made Vlad feel like a drained parent. He always thought of Danny as a distant son, more so now than before. So when he made Danielle and then rekindled a relationship with her he really did feel like a single father. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to cause another rift in their relationship. Having a happy Dani around the house made Vlad feel way less lonely.

“I know and that’s why I’ll ask her to aid me in planning the company banquet for Wednesday.” Vlad finished his drink and placed it in the dishwasher before snapping his fingers to turn it on.

“You’re seriously having a banquet while we’re in the middle of this?” Danny's expression quickly dropped and Vlad shooed him away.

“Correction, this is happening while I was planning the banquet. Ghosts seem to have no consideration for my very busy life. But the show must go on.” Danny could only facepalm as he listened to Vlad.

“You are such a fruitloop, ya know.”

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware.” Vlad chuckled and walked out of the kitchen. Danny was about to follow him until he stepped out and nearly slipped. He looked down and saw that where Vlad once stood was now a puddle of water with a few smaller puddles heading the way Vlad did. Danny’s first thought was danger and panic but the beeping sound of the dishwasher snapped him out of it. Besides, if she would have gotten in, not only would Vlad’s ghost security alert him, but his own ghost sense would have told him. Danny hadn’t felt any weird energy nor had his senses go off the whole time he was here. Danny calmed down and told himself it was just a leak in the dishwasher he would have to tell Vlad about.

KDD UNE PRINCESSE EST MORTE LYRICS

UNE PRINCESSE EST MORTE LYRICS

[Couplet 1]

Derrière un homme, une femme

Donne ses joies, ses larmes

Partage le courage

Traverse l'orage et la rage

Femme de militant, sans Palace ni Hilton

Entends les cris de sa nation, pas ceux des Rollings Stones

Dame de terrain, traverse le feu sans se brûler

Elle connait les chants de guerre pour cultiver la paix

Reine des belles immaculées

J'ai partagé ta haine figée

Quand ton mari s'est fait tirer

Aujourd'hui c'est toi qui part

Briller au loin comme les lumières d'un phare

Briller plus haut, plus fort qu'une star

C'est toi qui part

Les blacks américains orphelins de l'Histoire

Ont à jamais perdu, une perle rare

Passe le bonjour à Malcolm de ma part

À Newton, Martin Luther

Dis-leur que Mandela n'est plus au mitard

Et que l'on garde l'espoir

Betty Shabazz ton nom est gravé dans l'histoire

[Refrain]

Une princesse est morte

Sans flashes ni escorte

Sans bougie dans le vent

Sans rose devant sa porte

Une princesse est morte

Une femme de cœur, une femme forte

Morte, sans flashes ni escorte

[Couplet 2]

À travers les flammes, le sang et les bombes

Alger succombe et tes fils tombent dans les tombes

La mort effleure, ton cœur flambe quand tes filles tremblent

Tu lèves les mains au ciel, pieds nus dans les cendres

Dernier rayon de soleil sur ta djellaba

Premiers coups de feu, la terreur fait ses premiers pas

Ta tête est sous contrat, ta vie est un combat

Ils ont pointé le doigt sur toi les démons d'Allah

Quand le jour se lève, tu comptes les morts autour de toi

Chasses les vautours sur ton toit

Tu pries et gardes la foi

Vis de tes propres lois

Avec les instits, les avocats

Manifeste pour la paix et pour tes droits

Pas de château ni de marbre

Jeune femme des sables

Tu graves tes rêves et élèves tes gosses avec des fables

Et tu t’éteins comme une bougie

Tuée par le massacre en Algérie

[Refrain]

Une princesse est morte

Sans flashes ni escorte

Sans bougie dans le vent

Sans rose devant sa porte

Une princesse est morte

Une femme de cœur, une femme forte

Morte, sans flashes ni escorte

[Couplet 3]

Toutes les mères sont des princesses qui sans cesse

Donnent de l'amour aux vies qui naissent et disparaissent

Aux yeux d'un enfant, le deuxième nom de maman c'est Dieu

Qui peut plus qu'une mère forger l'esprit d'un homme sérieux?

Au sein d'une famille, royale ou pas, son amour vrille

Pas besoin de diamants ou de caisse à elle seule, elle brille

Elle apporte la joie, amène le souffle infini

Règne telle une reine sur le sentier de la vie

Des princesses meurent tous les jours

Les cœurs se croisent pour toujours

Qui sont ces femmes qui dans ce monde ont bougé les tours?

Qui sont celles qui pour une cause ont brisé les montagnes?

Qui sont celles qui ont connu les flammes?

Fortes, au sein des souffrances et des douleurs

À travers les nations, les époques et les couleurs

Combattantes, militantes ou bien mères tout simplement

Des larmes coulent quand vos âmes s'en vont dans le vent

[Refrain]

Une princesse est morte

Sans flashes ni escorte

Sans bougie dans le vent

Sans rose devant sa porte

Une princesse est morte

Une femme de cœur, une femme forte

Morte, sans flashes ni escorte

“UNE PRINCESSE EST MORTE” TRACK INFO

https://youtu.be/KxfhZ78ar0Y

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48818 Crystal 48728 Curran 49405 Custer 48819 Dansville 48350 Davisburg 48423 Davison 48120 Dearborn 48121 Dearborn 48123 Dearborn 48124 Dearborn 48126 Dearborn 48128 Dearborn 48125 Dearborn Heights 48127 Dearborn Heights 49045 Decatur 48426 Decker 48427 Deckerville 49238 Deerfield 48729 Deford 49046 Delton 48201 Detroit 48202 Detroit 48204 Detroit 48205 Detroit 48206 Detroit 48207 Detroit 48208 Detroit 48209 Detroit 48210 Detroit 48211 Detroit 48213 Detroit 48214 Detroit 48215 Detroit 48216 Detroit 48217 Detroit 48219 Detroit 48221 Detroit 48222 Detroit 48223 Detroit 48224 Detroit 48226 Detroit 48227 Detroit 48228 Detroit 48231 Detroit 48232 Detroit 48233 Detroit 48234 Detroit 48235 Detroit 48238 Detroit 48243 Detroit 48244 Detroit 48255 Detroit 48260 Detroit 48264 Detroit 48265 Detroit 48266 Detroit 48267 Detroit 48268 Detroit 48269 Detroit 48272 Detroit 48275 Detroit 48277 Detroit 48278 Detroit 48279 Detroit 48288 Detroit 48242 Detroit 48820 Dewitt 48130 Dexter 48821 Dimondale 49047 Dowagiac 49050 Dowling 48330 Drayton Plns 48428 Dryden 48131 Dundee 48429 Durand 48822 Eagle 48054 East China 49727 East Jordan 48823 East Lansing 48824 East Lansing 48825 East Lansing 48826 East Lansing 48730 East Tawas 49626 Eastlake 48021 Eastpointe 49627 Eastport 48827 Eaton Rapids 49111 Eau Claire 48229 Ecorse 48620 Edenville 49628 Elberta 49629 Elk Rapids 48731 Elkton 49729 Ellsworth 48830 Elm Hall 49730 Elmira 48831 Elsie 48832 Elwell 48022 Emmett 49630 Empire 48133 Erie 48732 Essexville 48833 Eureka 48023 Fair Haven 48733 Fairgrove 48621 Fairview 49632 Falmouth 48331 Farmington 48332 Farmington 48333 Farmington 48334 Farmington 48335 Farmington 48336 Farmington 48622 Farwell 48430 Fenton 48220 Ferndale 49409 Ferrysburg 49633 Fife Lake 49634 Filer City 48432 Filion 48134 Flat Rock 48501 Flint 48502 Flint 48503 Flint 48504 Flint 48505 Flint 48506 Flint 48507 Flint 48531 Flint 48532 Flint 48550 Flint 48551 Flint 48552 Flint 48553 Flint 48554 Flint 48555 Flint 48556 Flint 48557 Flint 48559 Flint 48433 Flushing 48434 Forestville 48059 Fort Gratiot 48435 Fostoria 48835 Fowler 48836 Fowlerville 48734 Frankenmuth 48787 Frankenmuth 49635 Frankfort 48025 Franklin 48026 Fraser 49733 Frederic 48623 Freeland 49412 Fremont 49413 Fremont 49239 Frontier 49415 Fruitport 49052 Fulton 48735 Gagetown 48436 Gaines 49053 Galesburg 49113 Galien 48135 Garden City 48136 Garden City 49734 Gaylord 49735 Gaylord 48437 Genesee 48736 Gilford 48624 Gladwin 49636 Glen Arbor 48737 Glennie 49055 Gobles 48027 Goodells 48438 Goodrich 49326 Gowen 48439 Grand Blanc 48480 Grand Blanc 49417 Grand Haven 48837 Grand Ledge 49501 Grand Rapids 49502 Grand Rapids 49503 Grand Rapids 49504 Grand Rapids 49505 Grand Rapids 49506 Grand Rapids 49507 Grand Rapids 49508 Grand Rapids 49510 Grand Rapids 49512 Grand Rapids 49514 Grand Rapids 49515 Grand Rapids 49516 Grand Rapids 49518 Grand Rapids 49523 Grand Rapids 49525 Grand Rapids 49528 Grand Rapids 49530 Grand Rapids 49534 Grand Rapids 49544 Grand Rapids 49546 Grand Rapids 49548 Grand Rapids 49550 Grand Rapids 49555 Grand Rapids 49560 Grand Rapids 49588 Grand Rapids 49599 Grand Rapids 49418 Grandville 49468 Grandville 49240 Grass Lake 49637 Grawn 49738 Grayling 49739 Grayling 48738 Greenbush 48838 Greenville 48137 Gregory 48138 Grosse Ile 48230 Grosse Pointe 48236 Grosse Pointe 48440 Hadley 49039 Hagar Shores 48739 Hale 48139 Hamburg 48212 Hamtramck 48441 Harbor Beach 49740 Harbor Springs 48225 Harper Woods 48625 Harrison 48045 Harrison Township 48740 Harrisville 49420 Hart 49057 Hartford 48353 Hartland 48840 Haslett 49058 Hastings 49743 Hawks 48030 Hazel Park 48626 Hemlock 48841 Henderson 49744 Herron 49421 Hesperia 48627 Higgins Lake 48356 Highland 48357 Highland 48203 Highland Park 49746 Hillman 49242 Hillsdale 49422 Holland 49423 Holland 49424 Holland 48442 Holly 48842 Holt 49245 Homer 49640 Honor 48628 Hope 49246 Horton 48629 Houghton Lake 48630 Houghton Lake Heights 49329 Howard City 48843 Howell 48844 Howell 49747 Hubbard Lake 49247 Hudson 49426 Hudsonville 48070 Huntington Woods 48140 Ida 49642 Idlewild 48444 Imlay City 49749 Indian River 48141 Inkster 49643 Interlochen 48846 Ionia 49644 Irons 48847 Ithaca 49201 Jackson 49202 Jackson 49203 Jackson 49204 Jackson 49427 Jamestown 49248 Jasper 48032 Jeddo 49428 Jenison 49429 Jenison 49751 Johannesburg 49250 Jonesville 49001 Kalamazoo 49003 Kalamazoo 49004 Kalamazoo 49005 Kalamazoo 49006 Kalamazoo 49007 Kalamazoo 49008 Kalamazoo 49009 Kalamazoo 49019 Kalamazoo 49048 Kalamazoo 49645 Kaleva 49646 Kalkaska 48631 Kawkawlin 48320 Keego Harbor 49062 Kendall 49648 Kewadin 48445 Kinde 49649 Kingsley 48741 Kingston 48145 La Salle 49753 Lachine 49063 Lacota 48848 Laingsburg 49650 Lake Ann 49651 Lake City 49653 Lake Leelanau 48359 Lake Orion 48360 Lake Orion 48361 Lake Orion 48362 Lake Orion 48143 Lakeland 48366 Lakeville 48144 Lambertville 49430 Lamont 48901 Lansing 48906 Lansing 48908 Lansing 48909 Lansing 48910 Lansing 48911 Lansing 48912 Lansing 48913 Lansing 48915 Lansing 48916 Lansing 48917 Lansing 48918 Lansing 48919 Lansing 48921 Lansing 48922 Lansing 48924 Lansing 48929 Lansing 48930 Lansing 48933 Lansing 48937 Lansing 48950 Lansing 48951 Lansing 48956 Lansing 48980 Lansing 48446 Lapeer 49064 Lawrence 49065 Lawton 49654 Leland 48449 Lennon 48367 Leonard 49655 Leroy 49251 Leslie 49756 Lewiston 48450 Lexington 48742 Lincoln 48146 Lincoln Park 48451 Linden 48634 Linwood 49252 Litchfield 48150 Livonia 48151 Livonia 48152 Livonia 48153 Livonia 48154 Livonia 48743 Long Lake 49331 Lowell 49431 Ludington 48157 Luna Pier 48635 Lupton 49656 Luther 48636 Luzerne 49434 Macatawa 48042 Macomb 48044 Macomb 48071 Madison Heights 49659 Mancelona 48158 Manchester 49660 Manistee 49253 Manitou Beach 49663 Manton 49664 Maple City 48853 Maple Rapids 49067 Marcellus 48039 Marine City 49665 Marion 48453 Marlette 49435 Marne 49068 Marshall 49069 Marshall 49070 Martin 48040 Marysville 48854 Mason 49071 Mattawan 48159 Maybee 49666 Mayfield 48744 Mayville 49657 Mc Bain 48852 McBrides 48454 Melvin 48122 Melvindale 48041 Memphis 49072 Mendon 48637 Merrill 49667 Merritt 49668 Mesick 48455 Metamora 49254 Michigan Center 49333 Middleville 48640 Midland 48641 Midland 48642 Midland 48667 Midland 48670 Midland 48674 Midland 48686 Midland 48745 Mikado 48160 Milan 48380 Milford 48381 Milford 49759 Millersburg 48746 Millington 48456 Minden City 48647 Mio 49335 Moline 48161 Monroe 48162 Monroe 49255 Montgomery 48457 Montrose 49256 Morenci49336 Morley 48857 Morrice 49257 Moscow 49258 Mosherville 48043 Mount Clemens 48046 Mount Clemens 48458 Mount Morris 48804 Mount Pleasant 48858 Mount Pleasant 48859 Mount Pleasant 48860 Muir 49761 Mullett Lake 48861 Mulliken 48747 Munger 49440 Muskegon 49441 Muskegon 49442 Muskegon 49443 Muskegon 49444 Muskegon 49445 Muskegon 49073 Nashville 48748 National City 49074 Nazareth 48047 New Baltimore 48051 New Baltimore 48164 New Boston 49446 New Era 48048 New Haven 48050 New Haven 48165 New Hudson 48460 New Lothrop 49337 Newaygo 48166 Newport 49120 Niles 49121 Niles 48461 North Branch 48862 North Star 48049 North Street 49670 Northport 48167 Northville 48168 Northville 49263 Norvell 49075 Nottawa 48374 Novi 48375 Novi 48376 Novi 48377 Novi 49448 Nunica 48855 Oak Grove 48237 Oak Park 48363 Oakland 48649 Oakley 49764 Oden 48805 Okemos 48864 Okemos 49673 Old Mission 49674 Omena 48749 Omer 49765 Onaway 49675 Onekama 49264 Onondaga 48865 Orleans 48462 Ortonville 48750 Oscoda 49077 Oshtemo 49266 Osseo 49766 Ossineke 48463 Otisville 49078 Otsego 49267 Ottawa Lake 48464 Otter Lake 48866 Ovid 48754 Owendale 48867 Owosso 48370 Oxford 48371 Oxford 48465 Palms 48870 Palo 49338 Paris 49269 Parma 49079 Paw Paw 48466 Peck 49769 Pellston 49449 Pentwater 48872 Perry 49770 Petoskey 48755 Pigeon 48169 Pinckney 48650 Pinconning 49271 Pittsford 49080 Plainwell 48069 Pleasant Ridge 48170 Plymouth 48874 Pompeii 48340 Pontiac 48341 Pontiac 48342 Pontiac 48343 Pontiac 48467 Port Austin 48060 Port Huron 48061 Port Huron 48469 Port Sanilac 49002 Portage 49024 Portage 49081 Portage 48875 Portland 49776 Posen 48876 Potterville 48756 Prescott 48651 Prudenville 49676 Rapid City 48096 Ray Township 49274 Reading 48239 Redford 48240 Redford 49677 Reed City 48757 Reese 48652 Rhodes 49083 Richland 48062 Richmond 48758 Richville 48218 River Rouge 48877 Riverdale 49084 Riverside 48193 Riverview 49277 Rives Junction 48306 Rochester 48307 Rochester 48308 Rochester 48309 Rochester 49341 Rockford 49351 Rockford 48173 Rockwood 49779 Rogers City 48065 Romeo 48174 Romulus 48653 Roscommon 48654 Rose City 48878 Rosebush 48066 Roseville 48067 Royal Oak 48068 Royal Oak 48073 Royal Oak 48470 Ruth 48601 Saginaw 48602 Saginaw 48603 Saginaw 48604 Saginaw 48605 Saginaw 48606 Saginaw 48607 Saginaw 48608 Saginaw 48609 Saginaw 48638 Saginaw 48663 Saginaw 48655 Saint Charles 48079 Saint Clair 48080 Saint Clair Shores 48081 Saint Clair Shores 48082 Saint Clair Shores 48656 Saint Helen 48879 Saint Johns 49085 Saint Joseph 48880 Saint Louis 48175 Salem 48176 Saline 48177 Samaria 49279 Sand Creek 49343 Sand Lake 48471 Sandusky 48657 Sanford 48881 Saranac 49087 Schoolcraft 49454 Scottville 49679 Sears 48759 Sebewaing 48882 Shaftsburg 49455 Shelby 48885 Sidney 48760 Silverwood 48074 Smiths Creek 48887 Smyrna 48472 Snover 49126 Sodus 49281 Somerset 49680 South Boardman 48761 South Branch 49090 South Haven 48178 South Lyon 48179 South Rockwood 48033 Southfield 48034 Southfield 48037 Southfield 48075 Southfield 48076 Southfield 48086 Southfield 48195 Southgate 49345 Sparta 49283 Spring Arbor 49456 Spring Lake 48762 Spruce 48658 Standish 48888 Stanton 49346 Stanwood 48659 Sterling 48310 Sterling Heights 48311 Sterling Heights 48312 Sterling Heights 48313 Sterling Heights 48314 Sterling Heights 49127 Stevensville 49285 Stockbridge 49091 Sturgis 48890 Sunfield 49682 Suttons Bay 48473 Swartz Creek 49463 Sylvan Beach 48763 Tawas City 48764 Tawas City 48180 Taylor 49286 Tecumseh 49092 Tekonsha 48182 Temperance 49683 Thompsonville 49128 Three Oaks 49093 Three Rivers 49791 Topinabee 49792 Tower 49684 Traverse City 49685 Traverse City 49686 Traverse City 49696 Traverse City 48183 Trenton 48007 Troy 48083 Troy 48084 Troy 48085 Troy 48098 Troy 48099 Troy 48765 Turner 49688 Tustin 48766 Twining 48475 Ubly 48387 Union Lake 48767 Unionville 48710 University Center 48315 Utica 48316 Utica 48317 Utica 48318 Utica 48768 Vassar 48769 Vassar 49096 Vermontville 48476 Vernon 49097 Vicksburg 49288 Waldron 49458 Walhalla 48390 Walled Lake 48391 Walled Lake 49796 Walloon Lake 48088 Warren 48089 Warren 48090 Warren 48091 Warren 48092 Warren 48093 Warren 48397 Warren 48094 Washington 48095 Washington 48327 Waterford 48328 Waterford 48329 Waterford 49797 Waters 49098 Watervliet 49348 Wayland 48184 Wayne 48892 Webberville 48893 Weidman 49689 Wellston 48322 West Bloomfield 48323 West Bloomfield 48324 West Bloomfield 48325 West Bloomfield 48661 West Branch 48185 Westland 48186 Westland 49289 Weston 48662 Wheeler 49349 White Cloud 48386 White Lake48383 White Lake 49461 Whitehall 48189 Whitmore Lake 48190 Whittaker 48770 Whittemore 49690 Williamsburg 48895 Williamston 48191 Willis 48896 Winn 48393 Wixom 48897 Woodland 48192 Wyandotte 49509 Wyoming 49519 Wyoming 48097 Yale 48197 Ypsilanti 48198 Ypsilanti 49464 Zeeland 

Friendly reminder that the FBI Files are publicly available - updated weekly as FOIA Requests are processed.

Direct Links to A-P (August 4th 2017)

The Vault Index

The FBI has converted many FOIA documents to an electronic format (PDF), and they may be viewed below. In the case of voluminous pages, only summaries or excerpts from the documents are online. Subjects are sorted alphabetically by first name. You can also use your browser's find feature to locate subjects on the page.

Al Capone Animal Mutilation Ali Hasan Al-Majid Al-Tikriti (Chemical Ali) Albert Anastasia ACLU Aristotle Onassis American Friends Service Committee Aryan Nation Anna Nicole Smith Anthony Blunt Alfred Kinsey Abner Zwillman Albert Einstein Anthony Spilotro ABSCAM Arthur Flegenheimer (Dutch Schultz) Alcatraz Escape Alcoholics Anonymous Al Gore, Sr. Amerithrax Anwar Nasser Aulaqi Amelia Boynton Abbie Hoffman Adolf Hitler Asian American Political Alliance Amelia Mary Earhart Andrew Phillip Cunanan Anthony Salerno All American Anti Imperialist League American Nazi Party Arthur Rudolph Aryan Brotherhood Atlanta Child Murders Aryan Circle Almighty Latin Kings Abe Fortas Arthur R. "Doc" Barker Arnold Palmer Armando Florez Ibarra Alvin Francis Karpis Attempted Assassination of President Ronald Reagan Alger Hiss Ariel Sharon Art Modell

Black September Bertolt Brecht Billy Carter Bishop Fulton Sheen Bonus March Barker-Karpis Gang Summary Bloods and Crips Gang Bonnie and Clyde Black Dahlia (Elizabeth Short) Basque Intelligence Service Bugsy Siegel Bayard Rustin Benjamin Hooks Benjamin Crowninshield Bradlee Black Guerilla Family Black Mafia Family Bernard Baruch Black Panther Party BOMBROB Betty Shabazz Bureau Aviation Regulations Policy Directive and Policy Guide Bernard Julius Otto Kuehn Bettie Page Billy Martin Barker/Karpis Gang

Caryl Chessman Cardinal Francis Spellman Cambridge Five Spy Ring Carmine John Persico, Jr. Custodial Detention Clyde A. Tolson Clark Gable Charles Manson Council on Foreign Relations Charles Lindbergh Clarence Smith (aka 13x) Clarence Darrow Carl Sagan Carmine Galante Conference Cost Reporting and Approvals to Use Nonfederal Facilities Policy Directive 0927D Charlie Chaplin Casey Kasem Cartha DeLoach Christopher (Biggie Smalls) Wallace Charles "Chuck" Wendell Colson Contract for Assistance Regarding Syed Farooks iPhone Charlie Wilson Courtney Allen Evans Claudia Johnson Carlo Gambino Christic Institute Cesar Chavez Clergy and Laity Concerned about Vietnam Charles Rebozo Charles Kettering Claudia Jones Christian Identity Movement Carl Sandburg Charles (Sonny) Liston Columbine High School Criminal Profiling Coretta Scott King Charles Arthur (Pretty Boy) Floyd Custodial Detention Headquarters Carlos Fuentes COINTELPRO Custodial Detention Security Index

Danny Kaye David Koresh Daily Worker Dinah Shore Dorothy Dandridge Duquesne Spy Ring Director Comey Letter to Congress Dated October 28, 2016 Diversity and Inclusion Program Policy Guide Policy Directive 0842D Daniel David "Dan" Rostenkowski Daniel Inouye Daniel Schorr Demonstrations against Lyndon B. Johnson Desi Arnaz Diana, Princess of Wales D. Milton Ladd Dr. Samuel Sheppard Dwight David "Ike" Eisenhower Director Comey Letter to Congress Dated November 6, 2016 David Hahn Debbie Reynolds David Howell Petraeus Daniel Patrick Moynihan D. B. Cooper

Erich Fromm Emmett Till E. B. (William) Dubois Extra-Sensory Perception Eliot Ness Electronic Recordkeeping Certification Policy Guide 0800PG Edward Irving "Ed" Koch Elizabeth Taylor Everette Hunt Edward Abbey Elizabeth Arden Edward Kennedy (Duke) Ellington Elvis Presley Eugene McCarthy Eddie Cantor Eleanor Roosevelt Evelyn Frechette Eric Wright (Eazy-E, EZ E) El Rukns Elijah Muhammad Ernest Hemingway Eugene “Gene” Curran Kelly Explanation of Exemptions

FBI Miami Shooting, April 11, 1986 Frances Perkins Fred Hampton Frank Capone FBI History Francis Gary Powers Frank Sinatra FBI Technical Surveillance Countermeasures Classification Guide Fred W. Phelps, Sr FBI Ethics and Integrity Program Policy Directive Policy Guide FBI Student Programs Policy Guide 0805 PG Fannie Lou Hammer Frank Rosenthal FBI Domestic Investigations and Operations Guide (DIOG) FBI Undercover Operations FBI Terrorist Photo Album Five Percenters Frank Wortman FBI Use of Global Positioning System (GPS) Tracking Frank Malina FDPS FBI Sign Language Interpreting and Reading Program 0889D FBI Seal Name Initials and Special Agent Gold Badge 0625D FOIA DISCLAIMER Fidel Castro Freedom Riders FBI Assistance Provided to Local Law Enforcement During the Black Lives Matter Movement FBI Recreational Association(s) 0465D FOIA Requests Containing the Word Trump Fritz Julius Kuhn Fred G. Randaccio Fred C. Trump

George (Bugs) Moran Greenlease Kidnapping George (Machine Gun) Kelly Groucho Marx Guy Hottel Gov. Edmund Gerald (Pat) Brown, Sr. Gene Siskel German American Federation/Bund Geraldine Ferraro Gangster Disciples Grace Kelly Greenpeace George Jackson Brigade Guantanamo (GTMO) George Burns George Lester Jackson General Douglas MacArthur General Telecommunications Policy 0862D George S. Patton, Jr. Gay Activist Alliance Ghost Stories: Russian Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR) Illegals Gamergate Gregory Scarpa, Sr George Orson Welles George Steinbrenner

Hugo Black Henry Louis (H.L.) Mencken Henry A Wallace Herbert Khaury (Tiny Tim) Highlander Folk School Hanns Eisler Henry Miller Howard Zinn Huey Percy Newton HEARNAP Honoraria Policy 0867D Herman Barker Harold Glasser Hubert H. Humphrey Helen Keller Harland David "Colonel" Sanders Hindenburg Harry S. Truman Hillary R. Clinton Howard Robard Hughes, Jr

Interpol Irgun Zvai Leumi Irving Berlin Impersonation of Bhumibol Adulyadej Imperial Gangsters I Was a Communist for the FBI (Motion Picture) Irwin Allen Ginsberg Ian Fleming Irving Resnick

Jack Soble Jefferson Airplane Jack Benny Jack the Ripper Jesse James James Cagney John F. Kennedy Jr. John Murtha Joseph Aiuppa Jonestown (RYMUR) Summary Joseph Lash John Ehrlichman John L. Lewis John (Jake the Barber) Factor Joseph P. (Joe) Kennedy, Sr. John Steinbeck John Arthur (Jack) Johnson Janis Joplin Jimmy Hoffa Jessica Mitford Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer Jack Anderson John Wilkes Booth Joe Paterno Jay David Whittaker Chambers John Joseph Gotti, Jr James Marshall "Jimi" Hendrix James Baldwin Joseph Losey John Siegenthaler Jeannette Rankin Jack Roosevelt Robinson Judith Coplon James Joseph Brown John Wayne (Marion Robert Morrison) Jerry Garcia Jane Addams John Chancellor John Wayne Gacy Jack Roosevelt (Jackie) Robinson John D. Rockefeller, III John Dillinger John (Handsome Johnny) Roselli John Profumo (Bowtie) J. Edgar Hoover Julius and Ethel Rosenberg J. Edgar Hoover Appointment and Phone Logs Jesse Helms Jonestown J. Edgar Hoover Official and Confidential (O&C) Files Joe Louis Joan Alexandra Rivers Jack Dempsey John Denver James Farmer James McDougal John Updike Jerry Heller Josephine Baker Joseph Paul "Joe" DiMaggio John Winston Lennon

Kent State Katherine Oppenheimer Kent State Shooting Ken Eto Kansas City Massacre Kiss

Lady Bird Johnson Louis Allen Leander Perez, Sr. Legal Handbook for FBI Special Agents Louis (Lepke) Buchalter Liberace Lyndon B. Johnson Laboratory Reference Firearms Collection Policy LD0020D Louie Louie (The Song) Louis Francis Costello Lucia Stepp Lewis F. Powell, Jr. Lillie Belle Allen League of Women Voters Lillian (Lily) Hellman Lester Joseph Gillis (Baby Face Nelson) Lenny Bruce Lucille Ball Luis Buñuel Louis Terkel Langston Hughes Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev Leon Trotsky Leonard Bernstein Lloyd William Barker

Marilyn Monroe Motion Picture Copyright Infringement Mississippi Burning (MIBURN) Case Michael (Mike) Royko Martin Luther King, Jr. Melvin Purvis Malcolm X Muriel Rukeyser Marilyn Sheppard Madalyn Murray OHair Mack Charles Parker Mexican Mafia Mafia Monograph Morris and Lona Cohen Medgar Evers Moorish Science Temple of America Mary Jo Kopechne (Chappaquiddick) Majestic 12 Marian Anderson Michael Jackson Machine Gun Kelly Murray Humphreys Michael Hastings Michael Whitney Straight Melvin Belli Marvin Gaye Marlene Dietrich Malcolm Little (Malcolm X) Meir Kahane Mario Savio Mohammed Khalifa MAOP Margaret H. Thatcher Myron Leon "Mike" Wallace Miami Boys Mario M. Cuomo Muammar Qadhafi Mattachine Society Meyer Lansky Mickey Mantle MIOG Mark Felt Martin Dies, Jr. Muhammad Ali Marcus Garvey

Nikola Tesla Norman Mailer Neil Armstrong National Rifle Association (NRA) New Alliance Party Nuestra Familia National Security Letters (NSL) National States Rights Party NAACP National Investigations Committee on Aerial Phenomena (NICAP) National Organization for Women (NOW) Nation of Islam Nelson Mandela National Gang Threat Assessment Next Generation Identification Monthly Fact Sheets Non-Retaliation for Reporting Compliance Risks Naming and Commemorating FBI Buildings and Spaces 0910D

Osage Indian Murders Owen Lattimore OKBOMB Original Knights of the KKK

Pearl Buck People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) President Richard Nixon's FBI Application Purple Gang (aka Sugar House Gang) Project Blue Book (UFO) Philip Ochs Protests in Baltimore, Maryland, 2015 Pablo Escobar Patriot Act Paul Harvey Paul Robeson, Sr. Pulse Nightclub Shooting Personal Services Contracts Policy Directive 0957D Percy Sutton Pentagon Spy Case Policy: Custodial Interrogation for Public Safety Policy Directive 0481D Physical Fitness Program Policy Directive and Policy Guide 0676PG

Gunning, M. (2004). America, My New Home. Honesdale, PA: Boyds Mill Press, Inc.

Illustrated by Ken Condon

Review # 6

America, My New Home (Gunning, 2004), offers young readers a collection of poems paired with illustrations in a picturebook telling of a young Jamaican girl’s journey to America. The author, Monica Gunning is a Jamaican-born poet and author who immigrated to America at age 18, and according to the back flap of the text “was inspired to come to the United States by reading Horatio Alger’s stories of young people in America who achieve success through hard work.” This text, though written and published in 2004, speaks of an American dream - sometimes realized, but a lot of times not - held by many West Indian immigrants of an earlier time - perhaps the 1950s when Monica Gunning became a U.S. citizen. 

The poems used to describe the journey are reminiscent of the stories I remember hearing as a little girl in Trinidad of “streets paved with gold.” Many persons left their birth homes on little islands in search of such streets with good paying jobs and riches to be had by those who were willing to “work hard.” Gunning presents an America that lives and provides in stark contrast to the third-world (my word’s, not the author’s) meager village that the young girl has left. There is a definite binary of here and there, good and bad, America and other that is presented in this immigration story. All of the poems and supporting illustrations present an America that is seemingly the better place to live. 

Having traveled in the Caribbean and visited many countries, including Jamaica I take offense to a Jamaican-born person presenting their home country in such poor light. Feeding into the misconceptions and false notions of Jamaica as a third-world country, Gunning shares of persons riding horses and mules for transportation, walking slower, and having earlier bed times. Don’t get me wrong, this is true in some parts of Jamaica and other islands, but Gunning does not share this information with readers, leaving them to envision a place where there is not as much technological advancement or progress. Gunning’s presentation of Jamaica is borderline grossly inaccurate, and mirrors her depiction of America - at least the America that many other West Indian immigrants call home. 

Through the poems of her new home in America, a young girl from Jamaica is shown visiting some very unlikely places. I suppose that it is plausible that a young, recent immigrant to New York would board the “L” train which used to run from Canarsie, Brooklyn to Manhattan, N.Y.C. and back again to visit the city and take in some sights. I am a little puzzled about why Gunning referred to this particular train line as “the El.” Maybe it was spelled the way that people called it? Maybe? I remember taking the train into Manhattan a couple times with friends - I had only lived in Brooklyn for about a year, maybe less, and I was invited by a friend who was a native New Yorker and knew of a great place to eat in Chinatown. I remember riding the train and seeing the many people from many places and with many faces, all huddled together in the train. There were noises coming from everywhere - the train, the tracks, the people, everything. I had the best eggroll that time; eggrolls from a “real Chinese” restaurant in Chinatown! 

What’s missing from Gunning’s text - the poems and the illustrations - is an authentic telling of the immigration story of a young person from the Caribbean. The America presented here is that of the “haves” - a person who has knowledge of the Lincoln Memorial, Marian Anderson and Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I have a dream” speech; a person who has money to travel to Washington, D.C.; a person who has money and desire to attend an orchestra performance or visit the museum; a person who has someone to travel with them to the park, and amusement park to ride the rides. Missing too is the close community that exists in areas like Brooklyn - there are so many West Indian enclaves throughout many parts of Brooklyn, especially near Fulton Street. Within these communities, many people know each other - often sharing stories about “back home” and offering many of the tastes and flavors of home too. I miss these things about Brooklyn. America, My New Home (Gunning, 2004) appears to have missed the opportunity to provide a better depiction of the journey. To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement - this was an unrealistic telling of an immigration journey and it is riddled with inaccuracies too. 

Daniel “Chappie” James

Daniel "Chappie" James Jr. (February 11, 1920 – February 25, 1978) was a fighter pilot in the U.S. Air Force, who in 1975 became the first African American to reach the rank of four-star general. He is the third person of Sub-Saharan origin to become highest-ranking officer in the Western world after Thomas-Alexandre Dumas (1793) and Toussaint Louverture (1797).

World War II

James graduated from the Tuskegee University in 1942 where he received a Bachelor of Science degree in physical education. He continued civilian pilot training under the government-sponsored Civilian Pilot Training Program. He remained at Tuskegee as a civilian instructor pilot in the Army Air Corps later that July. Throughout the remainder of the war James trained pilots for the all-black 99th Pursuit Squadron. He did not see combat himself until the Korean War.

Korean War

In September 1949, James went to the Philippines as flight leader for the 12th Fighter-Bomber Squadron, 18th Fighter Wing at Clark Field. In July 1950 he left for Korea, where he flew 101 combat missions in P-51 Mustang and F-80 aircraft.

James returned to the United States, and in July 1951 went to Otis Air Force Base, Massachusetts as an all-weather jet fighter pilot with the 58th Fighter-Interceptor Squadron, later becoming operations officer. In April 1953 he became commander of the 437th Fighter-Interceptor Squadron, and assumed command of the 60th Fighter-Interceptor Squadron in August 1955. While stationed at Otis, he received the Massachusetts Junior Chamber of Commerce 1954 award of "Young Man of the Year" for his outstanding community relations efforts. On August 15, 1954 he appeared as a contestant on the game show What's My Line? He graduated from the Air Command and Staff College in June 1957.

James next was assigned to Headquarters U.S. Air Force as a staff officer in the Air Defense Division of the Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations. In July 1960 he was transferred to RAF Bentwaters in England, where he served successively as assistant director of operations and then director of operations, 81st Tactical Fighter Wing; commander, 92nd Tactical Fighter Squadron; and deputy commander for operations for the 81st Wing. In September 1964 James was transferred to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Arizona, where he was director of operations training and later deputy commander for operations for the 4453rd Combat Crew Training Wing.

Vietnam War

James went to Ubon Royal Thai Air Force Base, Thailand, in December 1966, as deputy commander for operations, 8th TFW. In June 1967, under Colonel Robin Olds, he was named wing vice commander when Col. Vermont Garrison completed his tour. Both in their mid-40s, they formed a legendary team nicknamed "Blackman and Robin." James flew 78 combat missions into North Vietnam, many in the Hanoi/Haiphong area, and led a flight in the "Operation Bolo" MiG sweep in which seven Communist MiG-21s were destroyed, the highest total kill of any mission during the Vietnam War.

He was named vice commander of the 33rd TFW at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, in December 1967. While stationed at Eglin, the Florida State Jaycees named James as Florida's "Outstanding American of the Year" for 1969, and he received the Jaycee Distinguished Service Award. He was transferred to Wheelus Air Base in the Libyan Arab Republic in August 1969 as Commander of the 7272nd Fighter Training Wing.

James became Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense (Public Affairs) in March 1970 and was designated principal Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense (Public Affairs) in April 1973. On September 1, 1974, he assumed duty as vice commander of the Military Airlift Command (MAC), headquartered at Scott Air Force Base, Illinois.

James was promoted to four-star grade and assigned as commander in chief of NORAD/ADCOM at Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado, on September 1, 1975. In these dual capacities he had operational command of all United States and Canadian strategic aerospace defense forces. On December 6, 1977, he assumed duty as special assistant to the Chief of Staff, U.S. Air Force.

General James was widely known for his speeches on Americanism and patriotism, for which he was editorialized in numerous national and international publications.

When asked his views on the growing Civil Rights Movement after having to make an emergency landing in North Vietnam, he answered, "Look, friend, I'm really not interested in all of that, really. See I consider myself damned lucky to have been able to land my airplane at this emergency strip in one piece." Being asked about militants like H. Rap Brown and Stokely Carmichael, who implied that blacks ought to fight at home rather than in Vietnam, also angered James, with him stating "...the lawlessness, rioting, men like Stokely Carmichael acting as if they speak for the Negro people. They aren't, and set civil rights back 100 years!" James even removed his Black Panther emblem from his helmet since it had become associated with a movement he no longer identified with. Excerpts from some of the speeches have been read into the Congressional Record.

The statements by James in which he repudiated the most militant point of view endeared him to concerned whites, including President Johnson, who invited him to a White House reception. Immediately after the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and as riots erupted in several areas across the country, James addressed a gathering of Air Force Association officers at which he declared that in spite of events and the resistance to progress, 'I'm not disgusted-I'm a citizen of the United States of America and I'm no second-class citizen either and no man here is, unless he thinks like one and reasons like one and performs like one. This is my country and I believe in her and I to her welfare whenever and however I can. If she has any ills, I'll stand by her until in God's given time, through her wisdom and her consideration for the welfare of the entire nation, she will put them right."

He was awarded the George Washington Freedom Foundation Medal in both 1967 and 1968. He received the Arnold Air Society Eugene M. Zuckert Award in 1970 for outstanding contributions to Air Force professionalism. His citation read "... fighter pilot with a magnificent record, public speaker, and eloquent spokesman for the American Dream we so rarely achieve."

Libya

One of Chappie James's most dangerous moments came when he was assigned to command Wheelus Air Base in Libya. in 1969 Colonel Muammar Gaddafi overran the gates at Wheelus Air Base and had an Old West style standoff with James. With both men packing pistols on their hips James told Gaddafi, "Move your hand away from that gun!" Gaddafi complied and pulled back. Afterwards, the United States was unable to reach an agreement with Gaddafi and agreed to vacate Wheelus. During the final negotiations, a team of Libyan officers brought along a soldier with a submachine gun into James's living room. James asserted himself and the soldier vanished. Chappie then soon left Libya.

Retirement and death

General James died of a heart attack on February 25, 1978, just two weeks after his 58th birthday and three weeks following his retirement from the Air Force.

Honors and awards

General James' military awards include the following –

Air Force Command Pilot wings

Office of the Secretary of Defense Identification Badge

Defense Distinguished Service Medal

Air Force Distinguished Service Medal

Legion of Merit with one oak leaf cluster

Distinguished Flying Cross with two oak leaf clusters

Meritorious Service Medal

Air Medal with 13 oak leaf clusters

Army Commendation Medal

Presidential Unit Citation with three oak leaf clusters

Air Force Outstanding Unit Award with three oak leaf clusters

Combat Readiness Medal

Army Good Conduct Medal

American Defense Service Medal

American Campaign Medal

World War II Victory Medal

Army of Occupation Medal

National Defense Service Medal with star

Korean Service Medal with four campaign stars

Vietnam Service Medal with seven campaign stars

Air Force Longevity Service Ribbon with seven oak leaf clusters

Armed Forces Reserve Medal

Air Force Marksmanship Ribbon

Republic of Korea Presidential Unit Citation

United Nations Service Medal

Republic of Vietnam Campaign Medal

The civilian awards that General James received included the following:

Builders of a Greater Arizona Award (1969); Phoenix Urban League Man of the Year Award, Distinguished Service Achievement Award from Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity (1970); American Legion National Commander's Public Relations Award, Veteran of Foreign Wars Commander in Chief's Gold Medal Award and Citation (1971); Capital Press Club, Washington, D.C., Salute to Black Pioneers Award (1975); and, all in 1976, the Air Force Association Jimmy Doolittle Chapter Man of the Year Award, Florida Association of Broadcasters' Gold Medal Award, American Veterans of World War II Silver Helmet Award, United Service Organization Liberty Bell Award, Blackbook Minority Business and Reference Guidance Par Excellence Award, American Academy of Achievement Golden Plate Award, United Negro College Fund's Distinguished Service Award, Horatio Alger Award, VFW Americanism Medal, Bishop Wright Air Industry Award, and the Kitty Hawk Award (Military).

He was awarded honorary doctor of laws degrees from the University of West Florida in 1971; the University of Akron in 1973; Virginia State College in 1974; Delaware State College in 1975; and St. Louis University in 1976. He was named honorary national commander of the Arnold Air Society in 1971.

Legacy

General James met his wife Dorothy while he was at Tuskegee Institute and they were married on the campus on November 3,1942. They had two sons and one daughter. His wife Dorothy died on May 2, 2000, and is buried with him in Arlington National Cemetery. General James's son, Lieutenant General Daniel James III, also served in the United States Air Force as a fighter pilot and in the Texas Air National Guard. He served from 1995 to 2002 as the Adjutant General of the Texas National Guard (the first African American to hold the post), and as Director of the Air National Guard from 2002 to 2006. In the summer of 2006, he retired from the Air Force at the rank of Lieutenant General after 38 years of total commissioned service, on active duty and as an Air Guardsman.

A Lockheed P-80 Shooting Star is on display at Otis Air National Guard Base (former Otis AFB) in Massachusetts with General James' name written under the cockpit.

The James Sports Center at Scott AFB, Illinois, is named after General James and there is plaque that was dedicated on February 12, 1979.

Wikipedia

“Alger, capitale de la révolution” : les souvenirs d'une ex-militante anticolonialiste

En juillet 1969, un géant vêtu de cuir noir de la tête aux pieds et portant d’épaisses lunettes de soleil débarque à Alger. Eldridge Cleaver, le ministre de l’Information du Black Panther Party (BPP), orateur charismatique et auteur d’une autobiographie qui l’a rendu célèbre (Soul on Ice, 1968), vient d’atterrir clandestinement dans la Mecque des révolutionnaires avec sa femme Kathleen.

Après l’assassinat de Martin Luther King en 1968, Cleaver a participé à des affrontements violents avec la police. Blessé par les forces de répression, le meneur de la campagne de libération de Huey P. Newton (cofondateur du BPP, considéré par le président Hoover comme “la plus grande menace pour la sécurité du pays”) est accusé de tentative de meurtre. En cavale, il trouve refuge à Alger la Blanche, devenue Alger la Rouge depuis l’indépendance, en 1962. Les autorités ignorent sa présence, et rares sont les personnes à parler anglais pour l’aider dans ses démarches.

from Les Inrocks - livres http://bit.ly/2R7AE3e via IFTTT

He built many homes, rebuilt many lives; Ball Homes founder, philanthropist Don Ball dies | Lexington Herald Leader

Don Ball, founder of Ball Homes and a major Lexington philanthropist, died Friday. He was 81.

Ball helped reshape lives in Lexington and other Central Kentucky communities in 1993 with the founding of the Hope Center, which develops programs to address the underlying causes of homelessness, including addiction.

“In countless ways, Don Ball’s vision and dedication propelled the Hope Center to grow and thrive. In fact, the Hope Center probably would have had to close its doors decades ago if not for Don Ball,” said Cecil Dunn, executive director. “His life’s work was building houses. His life’s passion and purpose were helping others – particularly those who were desperately in need of a second chance. …Don Ball was a builder of homes. He was a rebuilder of hope and a rebuilder of lives. His contributions will be felt for generations to come.”

With his wife, Mira, Don Ball created Ball Homes in 1959, which has built thousands of Kentucky homes, according to the companies web site. Still a family-owned business now in the hands of the second generation, Ball Homes helped to create the neighborhoods of Masterson Station in Lexington, Brannon Oaks in Nicholasville, The Landing at Pleasant Valley in Georgetown, and Cedar Ridge and Rose Ridge in Versailles as well as many others across the area. In recent years the company expanded to Louisville and to Tennessee and is now ranked as one of the top 100 builders in the country.

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Kentucky Gov. Matt Bevin tweeted on Friday night: “Kentucky has lost a business titan, successful innovator and generous supporter of the downtrodden, especially those looking for a second chance in life… Don Ball will be missed by many…”

Don Ball was a modern day Horatio Alger. Truly the self-made man. Yet he never lost the common touch and a heart for those less fortunate.

Lexington Mayor Jim Gray

In 2016, UK awarded the Balls with honorary doctorates of humane letters for extraordinary contributions to philanthropy, human development, education, or societal well-being.

“Don Ball spent his life quietly and steadfastly committed to building and re-building foundations – foundations of hope and healing, service and faith, business and education,” University of Kentucky President Eli Capilouto said in a statement. “Don, a proud UK alum, and Mira, who chaired our Board of Trustees, would never seek the spotlight of acclaim and attention. They only cared about people and getting things done on behalf of those in need and for the Commonwealth. The result is a set of enduring foundations, built in service to others.”

A member of the Kentucky General Assembly in the 1960s, Don Ball also served as co-chair of the Recovery Kentucky Task Force, which established a network of 17 residential recovery centers across the Commonwealth based on the Hope Center that Ball founded.

“In public service, business, and philanthropy, Don and his wife Mira touched countless lives with their kindness and generosity,” U.S. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said. “Although Don always put his state and country first, he was truly a founding father of the modern Republican Party of Kentucky. His talents were only matched by his passion for serving those in need, especially in Central Kentucky.”

A ceremonial ribbon cutting in 2008 marked the opening of the Hope Center’s George Privett Recovery Center. From left, Luther Deaton of Central Bank, Myra and Don Ball of Ball Homes, Bonnie Quantrell, Hope Center Chair Randy Breeding, Gov. Steve Beshear and Cecil Dunn, the Hope Center’s executive director.

Tom Eblen [email protected]

Kentucky Senate President Robert Stivers said Ball will be greatly missed. “He helped countless Kentuckians launch their careers in either business or politics, including myself.”

Don and Mira Ball were honored with many awards for their community service, including the BUILDER Magazine and Hearthstone with a national award for his long-term community service. In 2000, both Don and Mira Ball were honored with the Optimist Cup Award, and in 2004 with the A.B. “Happy” Chandler Foundation’s Kentuckian Award. In 2011, Don and Mira Ball were honored to be the recipients of the W.T. Young Lifetime Achievement Award from the Lexington Chamber of Commerce. This award recognizes persons who have achieved unparalleled success in business and who have also made significant other contributions to the public well-being in Lexington and the state of Kentucky.

“Don Ball was a modern day Horatio Alger. Truly the self-made man,” said Lexington Mayor Jim Gray. “Yet he never lost the common touch and a heart for those less fortunate.”

Ball Homes and the Ball family are long-time supporters of Habitat for Humanity, the Hope Center, the Alzheimer’s Association, the United Way, KET, the Salvation Army, the American Cancer Society, Relay for Life, Big Brothers Big Sisters, the University of Kentucky, Junior Achievement, the Junior League Horse Show, and a host of other charity organizations and events, according to the company’s web site.

Recent philanthropic efforts include support of Hoops for Haiti and UK’s Dance Blue marathon to benefit children with cancer and their families, and UK HealthCare’s Overture to Healing Lexington Philharmonic concert benefit. In 2009, Ball Homes sponsored the first annual Ball Homes Night of Hope, a benefit for Lexington’s Hope Center.

The Home Builder Association of Lexington inducted Don and Mira Ball, the founders of Ball Homes in to it Hall of Fame in 2012.

Mark Mahan

1n 2012, co-founders Don and Mira Ball were inducted into the Home Builders Association of Lexington’s Hall of Fame in recognition of service to the state of Kentucky and the homebuilding community.

The Balls also founded Donamire Farm, a picturesque Thoroughbred horse farm in Lexington that became the site of many charity events.

Don Ball is survived by his wife, Mira; sons Ray and Mike and daughter Lisa Ball. Funeral arrangements are pending under the direction of Milward Funeral Directors.

Don Ball, stands in the training barn Feb. 1, 2000 where some scenes from “Simpatico” were filmed at his Donamire Farm.

MARK CORNELISON LEXINGTON HERALD LEADER

Janet Patton: 859-231-3264, @janetpattonhl

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it’s beddy bye bro. bro it’s sleepy time. bro come to bed bro it’s night night

(cam n luther use he/him pronouns, isaiah uses they/them <3)

One: The Homosexual Viewpoint

Volume VII - No. 7, July 1959, Los Angeles

Contents:

“The Homosexual and the Beat Generation” by Wallace de Ortega Maxey

“The Last of the Masks with Profuse Apologies to Oren Boyton and a Couple of Other Cats Who May be Hiding Under Local Pianos” by Lou McLean

“Tangents” News & Views by Dal McIntire

“The Force” fiction by Jess Luther

“Other People” a poem by Willis Eberman

“Report from New York” by Alden Kirby

“Toward Understanding” by Blanche M. Baker, M.D, Ph.D.

Cover image courtesy of Alger Gallery, 7453 Melrose, Los Angeles

Staff and Contributors: Don Slater, Robert Gregory, William Lambert, Lyn Pedersen, Alison Hunter, Arnell Larsen, Eve Elloree, Dawn Frederic, Wallace de Ortega Maxey, Lou McLean, Dal McIntire, Jess Luther, Willis Eberman, Alden Kirby, Blanche M. Baker 

rly quick sketches but i miss my little soccer guys :’)

SORRY FOR LONG POST BUT. here’s four times boots broke his way out of jail and one time he found himself Foiled by not being able to exploit the loud, chaotic, overfull qualities of most space prisons. harder to weasel your way out when your prison is One Large Guy’s Pocket....

THE BOYS R BACK IN TOWN

HA. FINISHED IT. 7256 words. here’s what boots is doing in alien au. warning that the first bit is kinda heavy but he gets better i prommy. henjoyyyy

~~~~

In the deep, dark void of space, a tiny craft floated aimlessly along. Ninety percent of its electronic functions had been switched off to conserve power. All it was doing now was generating enough warmth and oxygen to keep its single occupant alive. He sat in the pitch black hull of what would undoubtedly become his coffin and thought to himself. 

Had it been twenty four hours yet? He’d gotten pretty good at guessing this lately, often within minutes of the exact time. It was his only fun these days, now that he had to keep the ship’s AI powered off for most of the day. His hand crept across the console. He knew every button and switch on the thing by heart now, didn’t even need his sight to find the one panel he needed. His finger hovered over it for a second. He counted to five, then closed his eyes and hit it.

His vision behind his eyelids flared red as the lights came on, the perfect silence of the ship disturbed by the electronic humming of power flowing to the console. He cracked one eye open and read the display in front of him.

08:05:03.

Boots sighed. He’d gotten 08:02:42 yesterday, his best time yet. Soon, he was sure, he’d hit right on 08:00:00. He just needed more practice.

~

“Day 68 since the attack,” Boots said into the microphone in front of him. “I’ve taken to leaving the craft drifting, only using the propulsion features when I need to shift around space debris. Nothing out here could do me too much damage, anyway. I’m thinking about lowering the temperature of the craft a couple degrees. Of course the only way I’d really save energy is by dropping from 70 to 40 at minimum, but I want to ease myself into it at first. Rations are holding up okay. Got a little surprise for myself tomorrow, can’t wait to see how I’ll react. If I make it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’ve started putting out the SOS signal every five hours instead of every three. Someone’s got to come around eventually. Probably. Hopefully.” Boots paused and stared at the wall. “I mean, I’m only in the third most dangerous patch of space in the galaxy. Surely there’s tons of, oh, I dunno, wealthy merchant vessels with zero qualms about picking up random drifters down on their luck. Just gotta hold out a little longer, one’s due any day now. Any day now. Any day now. Any…” He trailed off. “Anyway. Townsend out.”

He hit the button to end the recording and watched the little file zip off into the ship’s databank. Someone’s going to have a great time listening to me slowly go insane in here when they finally find this piece of shit lifepod, Boots thought. I mean, they’re going to start a drinking game and everything. Take a shot every time I repeat myself. Take a shot every time I cut another quality of life feature to prolong my existence a little longer. Take a shot every time I fantasize about rescue. Die of alcohol poisoning by day fifty…

He smacked his face lightly with both hands, trying to break himself out of the spiral. No death talk. Can’t start down that road. Gotta keep active, gotta keep positive. Time to send out the SOS again, and then power down the ship for a bit. He pulled the radio towards himself and fiddled with the dials til he got the frequency right. He ought to just keep it set to the right channel all day, but scrambling it and resetting it when it was time to broadcast again was something else to do. 

“SOS. SOS. SOS.,” he repeated in monotone. “Lifepod drifting in quadrant Zed Alpha 23, last known coordinates 235532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942, relative to the system’s third star. Attack by space pirates left one known survivor. Requesting immediate pickup. Message repeats. SOS. SOS. SOS…” He repeated this a few times and switched the radio back off. He’d given up on waiting for a response a couple weeks back. Boots powered down the console and sat back in his chair.

Now the waiting game. Something tickled at the back of his mind. Had he said the numbers right in the SOS? 235532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942, right? Or was it 235632.4234, 399325.3234, 100534.3942? Or 335532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942. Or were all of them wrong. Or did he not know where the hell he was. When did he last do his readings? They were stored on the computer right in front of him. He could power it back on and look.

Boots bit his lip. He could power it back on and open up the chess feature. He could power it back on and open the drawing program. There were lots of ways to keep him busy and all of them would drain what little power he had so, so quickly, and leave him to die in the vacuum of space. No death talk. Think about something else.

He got out of his chair and paced the length of the ship. It was thirty steps exactly from the console at one end to the airlock at the other. Ten steps from either side of the short end. Windows lined each long end, letting him glance out at the vastness of the abyss around him. He didn’t like to stare out for too long. He’d spent the first couple days trying to count all the stars out there, but it did something strange to his head, and he’d lose all sense of time, all sense of space, all sense of himself. Movement was good, it kept him from getting lost in his own head. He didn’t exercise too strenuously, but it was probably a good time to start his basic stretches now, keep him limbered up.

He sat down and extended one leg out, tucked the other in, and reached for his toes. Hold for a count of thirty, then switch legs. Hold for a count of thirty. Switch so that one leg was tucked under his body, the other extended behind him. Hold for a count of thirty. Switch legs. On and on, he cycled through pose after pose, held, and switched. It hit him that he was probably going to be in better shape physically after this than he’d been in a while, just because now he had a regular routine. He couldn’t help it. A fit of giggles overtook him, and he lost the pose he was holding, collapsing in a twitching heap on the floor as he laughed. Oh god. He’d really lost it, hadn’t he.

~

It was a few hours later by his best guess, and about time to send out the next SOS. Boots’s hand hovered over the panel, he counted to five, and he turned on the ship’s console. 1:15:53. Not bad. Just as he reached for the radio, the ship’s AI spoke for the first time in days.

“Alert! Incoming vessel! Titan-class, threat level maximal. Evasive maneuvers highly recommended.”

Boots gaped at the screen in front of him, displaying a pixelated version of his surroundings. In the middle lay a tiny green dot that represented his craft. The entire left side of the display was taken up by a massive blue shape, closing in on his location with a slow, deliberate pace. It was so much to process all at once that all he could do was stare while his mind tried to catch up.

Why hadn’t the AI alerted him before - it was turned off. Of course. Proximity sensors had been designated obsolete on day twelve. This vessel must have heard his SOS. A good thing? Or a bad thing? Titan-class vessels were nearly all designed for combat. More importantly, they were designed specifically for giants. Space-faring species were given class designations based on size, and Titan-class vessels could hold anywhere from class five to class twelve species - beings that stood between twenty to a hundred feet tall. Boots remembered the basic size sheet plastered in practically every ship’s manual and shuddered, remembering how miniscule humans looked at class two compared to the rest. The ship in front of him was no doubt teeming with sixty foot tall behemoths armed to the gills. So much for the kind-hearted merchants he’d dreamed of. They were scavengers, probably, vultures here to pick his carcass clean. Boots let out a little involuntary laugh. Good luck, boys, there’s nothing here of any value. Except -

His eyes darted to the cabinet that held tomorrow’s surprise. Well. He wasn’t going to make it to tomorrow to have it then, was he? Might as well have it now. Boots stumbled over, shock making his legs go wobbly and weak. He yanked the cabinet open and pulled out the little flask that held his secret stash of whiskey, kept safe all those years since he’d pulled it out of the wreckage of some party yacht.

Boots wandered over to stand in front of the windows, gazing out at the approaching vessel. It was so huge he couldn’t see all of it at once, could only make out a row of lights and the edge of some massive energy cannon. It was drifting inexorably closer. They’d be upon him in minutes.

“To 69,” Boots said, holding the flask aloft. “And 420. And all the other funny numbers.” With that, he tossed back the ounce of amber liquid, savoring the burn as it cascaded down his throat and settled in his gut. 

A numbness hit him as he took in his fate. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? If he was lucky, they’d power up that cannon and blast him into space dust. If he was unlucky, they’d take him aboard to have some fun with him. His mind’s eye filled the vessel with dozens of huge, mean space pirates, all eager to get their hands on the piddling little human and pull him apart like taffy. No death talk. Look on the bright side. At least something was finally happening.

He flinched as a bright green beam shot out from the vessel, engulfing his lifepod entirely. Since he also wasn’t incinerated instantly, he assumed it was some kind of tractor beam rather than a laser cannon. His assumption was proved right when the front of the vessel yawned open like the titanic maw of some great whale and his tiny lifepod was pulled into it.

The pod settled on the floor of the vessel’s loading bay, and Boots pushed his nose up to the glass to get a look at his new surroundings. Huge metal crates lashed with thick ropes sat on all sides. He squinted at a marking stamped on the side of the nearest crate and the pit of his stomach dropped. Those were Service symbols. He’d been caught by the stars-damned space police.

Boots chewed his lip and tried to think. Had he been involved in anything big lately? There was that fuel heist the other month, but surely everyone had forgotten about that by now. Anyway, he’d only helped with intel, there was no way they knew he even had irons in that fire. Unless someone ratted him out? No, the crew was too tight-knit for that. But who knew what had happened while he’d been lost out here? He was so out of the loop, they could have found all kinds of info. Wait, there was no way they even knew it was him. He didn’t put his name or any identifying information in the SOS, and even if they had some voice recognition software, his had grown weird and cracked from disuse, and the radio was shit. It had to be too distorted for anyone to recognize. No way they knew it was him. No way.

Boots was shaken from his reverie, literally, as the whole ship rattled, a massive THOOM echoing through the loading bay. It was followed by another, and another, growing steadily closer. He shoved his face to the glass again and saw a gigantic pair of boots thudding towards where his piddling little lifepod sat. He scrambled for something, anything, he could use as a weapon, but of course it was fruitless. He hadn’t had time to grab a blaster in the mad dash for the lifepod back on the ship so many weeks ago, and even if he had the behemoth coming towards him was too huge for it to have any effect. Could he try to hide? Play dead? It would be absurd, of course, they’d clearly heard his cry for help. But if he just didn’t come out, what would they even do?

His train of thought was abruptly derailed as the footsteps stopped and the being called out to him. The voice was so loud and so deep it vibrated through Boots’ chest. “Hey, you okay in there?”

Boots was frozen, staring out the window at the toe of a boot the size of a small spacecraft. The giant waited, probably expecting him to hop on the radio and broadcast a response, or step out and talk to him. His mind raced, trying to find a way out of the situation.

“Hello? We got your distress call, are you still in there? Are you hurt?”

Boots’ eyes darted from side to side. Think. Think think think. Why was his mind a total blank? All the times in the past he’d come up with some genius plot to get him out of certain doom, and now it was like a bowl of mush up there. That’s probably what nearly seventy days of total isolation does to you, but still! The boot creaked and the light was blotted out as the being crouched down to inspect the lifepod more closely.

“Huh,” the voice continued, now sounding almost like the giant was talking to themself. “That looks like a Harlequin-class lifepod. Couple modifications to it, too. Those fins aren’t standard… And that radio array… Hm.”

Shit! Shit! Shit! All those definitely illegal mods were not going to leave a good impression. He needed to do something to distract them, and fast.

“I’m going to pick up your lifepod now,” the voice boomed, back at full volume. “I’ll be as careful as I can, but please hold on to something to secure yourself.”

Finally, Boots’ body kicked into gear. He flattened himself against the wall next to the window, hopefully hidden from view from the giant. A quiet thud reverberated through the lifepod as the giant’s hand wrapped around the hull. Boots could see the tips of their fingers through the other set of windows, and the sheer size of the huge blue digits made him shiver. If the giant wanted to, they could crush his pod like an empty beer can. His stomach churned with the thought and with the motion as he was lifted up into the air. He could just imagine the giant’s eye on the other side of the glass right next to him, scanning through the little vessel. What would they see? An open cabinet, empty food containers strewn across the floor, but otherwise no signs of life. And then what would they do?

Boots got his answer as the giant turned the lifepod around in their hands and looked in the other side. He was caught like a deer in the headlights, clearly visible through the windows opposite him. Ah. Well. So much for that.

The giant appeared to be a deep blue-green all over. All Boots could see was part of his face and his eye, which was a completely blank milky green color, no iris or pupil visible. It still seemed able to see him, the muscles around it contracting slightly as it widened in surprise upon spotting him. The lid settled back down and the giant spoke again.

“Please exit your craft and submit for questioning.” Most of the concerned, caring tone was gone. This was a brusque, official order. Boots swallowed hard, but his fear was evaporating in the face of a sudden wave of anger. He hadn’t survived all on his own for two months just to turn himself in quietly. He pushed himself away from the wall, fury making him bold. 

“Like hell I will!” Boots screeched. “You’ll never take me alive, you bastards!” He held out his middle finger and waved it at the giant. Then he tried a couple other rude hand gestures for good measure, in case it didn’t understand the first one. The eye narrowed. Ah good, it had gotten the message.

The floor under Boots’ feet tilted as the giant turned the ship on its side, and he first slid, then tumbled head over heels down towards the console, smacking into it hard enough to daze him for a moment. He watched, sprawled out on his back, as the other end of the ship was crushed between the giant’s fingers and ripped away, leaving a sparking hole in the hull. He felt the ship begin to shift again and he scrabbled for a hold on the console as it tipped the other way. He’d barely managed to get his arms around a monitor before he was dangling in the air over the hole in the ship. He could just make out some huge blue-green surface waiting just below the opening, and had enough brain power not dedicated solely to fear to be utterly incensed that the man was trying to dump him out like the last tic tac.

As if to compound this mental image, the ship began to shake gently up and down, then more insistently, and finally Boots lost his hold on the monitor and went plummeting down to the surface below. He expected to smack into a hard surface and break something, but found himself bouncing on something soft and leathery. Boots pushed himself up on his elbows and glanced blearily around. Ah. Of course. It was a hand. Presumably the same hand that had torn his ship apart like wet tissue paper. And here he was, completely at its mercy, a little drunk on fear and alcohol. Well, he wasn’t about to go out without a fight. He got unsteadily to his feet and whirled around to face the being, and his screams of defiant rage died in his throat.

Huge blank eyes half as tall as he was glared down at him out of a face the size of a house. It bore an expression of disgusted bemusement, like Boots was something small and pitiful and half-dead that a pet had dragged in. A pair of goatlike green horns sprouted from the man’s head and swept back in an arc. His thick beard and hair were a deep, rich blue that almost hurt to look at after being stuck in such low light for so long. A jagged scar cut through his left eye, extending from just above the brow to down below the cheek. A silver symbol on chest clearly marked him as the captain of this vessel. 

The captain tucked the remnants of Boots’ lifepod in the chest pocket of his uniform. Then he extended a finger and pinned Boots to his palm as he brought him in closer for inspection. 

With just the tip of his finger he’d rendered Boots completely immobile. No amount of squirming could get him free, so he was helpless as the man took in his rumpled clothes, his pale, wan face, his tangled mop of hair. The captain’s nose scrunched and he pulled back a little. Oh, yeah. He hadn’t had a shower in a few weeks. He’d grown used to stewing in his own juices while trapped in that little ship, his own sense of smell shutting down to protect himself forever ago.

“No insignia or mark of rank,” the captain murmured, and even speaking quietly his voice vibrated through Boots’ chest. “Buuuut…” The finger lifted and prodded him in the side, flipping him over onto his back. “A-ha. Thought so.”

Oh, shit, Boots thought. The jacket. The decal on the back. The one that loudly proclaimed him as a member of the galaxy’s most notorious junker gang.

“That’s, uh, not mine,” Boots lied. “Found it in the lifepod.”

“Uh-huh,” the captain rumbled. “Sure. Is your name Townsend, by chance?”

Shit. That was also on the decal. “Y - no. Not at all. It’s, uh… Frank.” He got nothing but scathing silence in return. Boots rolled over, shoving the man’s finger aside. “You can’t prove anything. I plead the 17th.”

“Look, Frank,” The captain began. Boots couldn’t be sure, but he thought he rolled his eyes when he said it. “I’m not here to arrest you or whatever. You’re protected under Distress Law, even if you had a warrant on you I couldn’t do it. But I’ve got my eye on you, junker. Anything on this ship goes missing, I’ll know who did it.”

“Oh, sure, pick on the guy who’s been lost in the void of space for three months,” Boots spat. “One hell of a rescue.”

“We’ll get you cleaned up and fed, set you down on the first space station we come across,” the captain said, ignoring him. “We’ve got a human on board, you can borrow some of his clothes, probably. You look about the same size.”

“How the hell would you know,” Boots grumbled, but under his breath. His senses were starting to come back to him. Even if he were protected under whatever law, pissing off a guy the size of a skyscraper wasn’t a smart move. But Boots had been making smart moves for three months now and he was exhausted. As the captain turned to lumber out of the airlock and towards the rest of the ship, it hit him. He’d done it. He’d survived. He’d been rescued.

Relief, grief, and euphoria in equal measure spread through his body like a wave. An uncontrollable giggle burst out of him, just a short, hyena-like bark at first. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle it, but more came, wracking his body, and soon he was laughing and sobbing all at once, convulsing uncontrollably as the captain stared down at him in concern.

“Are you… good?”

“I’m great,” Boots sighed, and fully passed out.

~

He came to slowly, in a haze, lying facedown on some hard metallic surface. High above him, the voice of the captain rang out as he argued with someone.

“... a little thief, some junker, I don’t want him roaming around the ship on his own. I’m not saying we throw him in the brig but he needs an escort or something.”

A pause as they responded, but whoever it was, their voice was too quiet to hear.

“No offense, Algers, but you’re not exactly… have you ever been in combat? Had any practice with that stun gun you’re carrying? Hand to hand combat, de-escalation training, anything like that? …Yeah. I don’t want you following the hardened criminal around. You’re more likely to be a hostage than a captor. Ow! Hey! I am the captain of this ship, you know.”

That last bit sounded nearly coy and playful. Boots shook his head and tried to sit up. A bone-deep exhaustion permeated his whole body. It took every ounce of willpower he had to slide an arm under him and lever himself up on his elbow. He managed to glance muzzily around and took in the scene. He was laying on the console of the captain’s chair in the main command center. The chair was set up on a dias overlooking a swath of computers and monitors lining the wall against the front window of the vessel, showing the stars as they raced past at just under light speed. The captain himself was standing some distance away, talking to seemingly nobody. There were only a few other crew members in the room, mostly manning navigational consoles. They were all huge, but none were quite the size of the captain. No one was looking at Boots.

Ha. An escort would’ve been a great idea, Boots thought, because I’m getting the hell out of here right now. He got one leg under him and pushed himself up to his knees. His head swam with the motion and he nearly toppled over backwards. He felt horribly lightheaded and top heavy at the same time, like his head was stuffed with cotton balls but his neck wasn’t strong enough to support his skull. It gave him a queasy floating feeling, like he was being tossed around on ocean waves. Boots swallowed hard to quell the nausea and got to his feet, legs shaking ever so slightly. After the dark, cramped confines of his lifepod, the huge open space and bright lights of the cockpit made his senses scream with overstimulation. But like hell was he going to stick around and wait to see which giant monster would be his babysitter. He’d commandeer another lifepod - this one at least would be more spacious than the last - and get himself back to headquarters to report the loss of the vessel.

Movement to his left caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see two massive paws place themselves on the console. Boots stared into a huge pair of curious canine eyes, with several smaller sets of eyes around them. A big wet nose snuffled in his direction. A giant mouth opened and panted happily, letting a huge tongue loll out and splat onto the console. Then it lunged for him. Boots didn’t even have time to scream.

By the time he’d realized what had happened, he was being carried by the back of his jacket through the corridors of the ship, dangling some fifteen feet off the ground. The dog-like alien that had nabbed him was joined by two others that tried to duck their heads under his captor’s chin to sniff and nip at Boots. He kicked at them as they got near, but only succeeded in making himself twist and spin, once nearly falling out of his jacket altogether. From then on he opted to hang on for dear life.

At last he was lowered to the ground and let go, but before he could move, those noses were on him again, sniffing and snuffling, mussing up his hair, his clothes, nearly knocking his glasses off. He curled into a ball and tried to play dead, but one of them nudged him over onto his back and licked him. Immediately he was drenched in slobber, and knew he had to act before this went any farther.

“Okay, okay, okay, okay! Down! Back! Get away! Bad dog!” Boots scrambled to his feet and held his hands out, backing away from the three giant alien dogs staring down at him. They whined and tilted their heads, one holding up a front paw like it was going to take a hesitant step towards him. He pointed at that one and said “No!” as firmly as he could. The paw lowered slowly.

“Right. Okay.” Boots wiped as much of the slobber off his face as he could and shook his head, trying to get the stuff out of his hair. “No more of that. Ugh, it’s everywhere…” He shook his arms and swiped at his clothing, knocking more of it away. 

The dog aliens whined softly and made sad eyes at him. Now that he wasn’t in danger of being licked to death, Boots got a better look at the pack. They were huge, each about twenty feet tall at the shoulder, with vaguely canine forms. They had six legs and long, thin tails that curled and flicked behind them. The one on the right was solid green, the one in the middle was a greyish blue, and the one on the left was green with lighter splotches. Rightie had folded ears, while Leftie’s were bolt upright, and Middle had one up, one down. They all had weird gadgets and gizmos strapped to them, too. Rightie had a set of goggles over their main set of eyes and a pair of saddlebags on either side. Middle had a single eye scanner and a pack that looked to be full of pipes and wires. Leftie had no goggles and a toolbox slung on their right. All three bore collars with the Service insignia and a speaker on the front. Just as Boots started to wonder what it was all for, Leftie spoke.

“Human?” The voice crackled out of the speaker on their collar. “New human? We have a new human?”

“Smells funny,” Middle chimed in. “Lots of smell. Smells a lot.”

“For us do you think? Captain’s smell on him. New friend? New family?” Rightie’s tail started to wag, and the other two perked up, Middle dancing in place.

“New family! New family!” The three of them repeated over each other, riling each other up. Boots tried to back up again, but before he could get far, Leftie lunged forward again, this time bowling him over and smushing him between their face and the floor. The other two joined in, trying to push each other out of the way to scent mark him.

“Okay! New family! That’s enough!” Boots yelled, managing to get a hand on the nearest snout. He pushed with all his strength, but it wasn’t until the alien gave in and pulled back that he was able to get upright again. “A little breathing room, please.”

The dogs obliged, laying their faces down mere feet away from him. He could see their whip-like tails wagging away and could only imagine the damage those things could cause. Huh… there was a thought.

“I’m… part of the pack now, huh?” Boots eyed them carefully. They seemed to be doing what he said. Maybe they’d recognized his natural leadership abilities and designated him the Alpha of the group. It made perfect sense. He grinned. “Okay then, listen up. Here’s what we’re going to do…”

~

Boots wasn’t much of a tactician, but he figured he didn’t need to be if he had three giant alien dogs at his command. He’d mounted up on Middle, whose name he learned was Y, and had X - Leftie - and Z - Rightie - follow on either side. His plan was simple: rush the command center, take out the captain, and take control of the ship. All they’d need was one well-aimed bite to the jugular and it was all over. These things had viciously sharp teeth, he’d learned. Once he’d proven he could best the biggest guy on the ship, everyone else would fall in line. That’s how it always worked in junker circles, anyway.

They reached the door to the command center. Boots gave the signal to wait, calling out a quiet “whooaa, there,” and pulling on Y’s collar. The three obediently ground to halt, X and Z looking up expectantly at him.

“Okay, remember the plan,” Boots said. “On my signal, Z, you trip the door, and Y, you make straight for the captain. We do this quick and clean.”

“Yes! Yes! Surprise Captain!” Y’s collar said, and they yipped happily.

“Shh!” Boots hissed. “Stealth mission, remember? X, you be ready to take out anyone near the door who might try to stop us. We only get one shot. Ready?”

The dogs gave him a huff and a nod. Boots took a deep breath to steady himself, raised an arm, and swept in down in an arc.

“Go!”

Z hopped up on their hind legs and hit the open door button with a paw. X burst through the door first, surprising a tall, gangly orange creature who’d been loitering next to it. Boots grinned as he heard them yelp in surprise, falling over backwards under a ton of excited dog alien.

“Now, Y! ATTAAAAAAACK!”

Captain Mersharc whipped around, staring in open-mouthed shock at his incoming doom. Boots smiled grimly, ready for the bloodshed to come.

Y trotted up to Captain Mersharc, tail a-wagging, with precisely none of the expediency or viciousness Boots had demanded. Mersharc glared at the human who was kicking his heels furiously into Y’s side and yelling. He knelt down and plucked Boots up by the back of his jacket, holding him up in the air while he gave Y some quick chin scritches, finishing with a ruffle of the ears and a pat on the head. Then he stood and regarded the struggling human with tired exasperation.

“Did you get it out of your system yet?” Captain Mersharc asked. “I can let you kick the air a while longer if you want.”

Boots quit kicking and glared right back at Mersharc. He folded his arms, trying very hard not to look like a pouting child and failing miserably.

“Anyway, before you made your little daring escape, I was going to have Luther here be your escort around the ship.” 

Boots glanced around for whatever horrifying giant monster was called Luther, but was surprised to see the Captain gesture at a figure perched on his shoulder. A human man sat there, legs hooked into a pair of fabric loops to keep him secured. He waved at Boots and shrugged. 

“Took him forever to wear me down on that, too, so great job letting all that effort go to waste,” Captain Mersharc continued. “Instead, I think I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Boots opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t get a word out before he was unceremoniously dumped in the same chest pocket that had once held his lifepod, although that was now thankfully absent. He tumbled down the side of the fabric chute, landing with a soft ‘oof’ at the bottom. The pocket was dark, with only a sliver of light filtering from the opening up top, and it practically pulsed with the huge, slow THUMP-THUMP, THUMP-THUMP of the captain’s heart beat. Just as Boots struggled to his feet, a firm pressure slammed him against the brick wall that was the Captain’s chest. It let up, then squeezed him once more, hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. He slid to the bottom again, dazed, and realized Captain Mersharc must have patted his pocket to secure him. Suddenly Boots felt far less inclined to act out. The Captain had been remarkably gentle with him, all things considered, and he didn’t want to find out what it was like when he was being rough. 

“Careful,” he heard a small voice say. It must have been Luther up on the captain’s shoulder. “Humans are delicate, remember?”

“He’ll be fine,” Mersharc grumbled. His voice had vibrated through Boots’ chest before, but now that he was pressed up against the man’s chest it practically rattled his teeth in his skull. “He’s probably survived worse.”

“He can hear you!” Boots shouted. Mersharc chuckled, and Boots’ whole body shook again.

“See? He’s fine.”

“Hmm. Can I talk to him?” Luther’s voice sounded closer now, like he’d moved along the captain’s shoulder.

“C’mon in!” Boots called.

“All right, but.. Be careful, eh?” Mersharc murmured. If he was trying to keep Boots from overhearing, it was pointless.

Boots saw the tips of Mersharc’s fingers dip into the pocket, forming a little ramp that Luther clambered down. Boots patted the fabric next to him, inviting Luther to take a seat, and studied the man carefully. Short, curly brown hair, big sweet hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles, and a big round nose. Just as he’d suspected. The man was unbearably cute. Boots resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Luther didn’t seem to notice his disdain, fishing in his pocket for something.

“The captain asked me to look through the lifepod and bring you any personal effects but there kind of… weren’t any. Except this?” Luther held out the flask that’d held Boots’ whiskey. It had his full name and an illustration of a pair of boots hanging from a wire engraved on one side. Boots took it reverentially and tucked it in his jacket pocket.

“Thanks. Thought I’d lost that when the big guy ripped my ship apart. Got some sentimental value.”

“I found it wedged behind the console,” Luther offered. “Hunear did a sweep of the floor in the airlock just in case, too. Sorry the captain, uh… got a bit rough with your ship. He can have a kind of short temper at times.”

“Hmph. Especially if he’s already decided what kind of person you are,” Boots grumbled, folding his arms. He hunched up and looked away, biting his lip to try and smother the little pang of grief that shot through him at the thought of his ship. It was probably beyond repair at this point, which meant its AI wasn’t recoverable. It’d helped keep him sane for half his voyage, running chess games, popping up fun science facts, even holding brief conversations. It wasn’t advanced enough to have a whole personality, but it was all he had until day thirty, when he’d had to shut it off to conserve power. As soon as he got another drink he’d pour a little out for it.

“Well, from what I heard, you flipped him the bird, the qaronk, the wheel, and the flitz,” Luther counted on his fingers, “plus a few others he didn’t know, and said he’d ‘never take you alive, copper’?”

“Uh… close enough” Boots muttered. “It wasn’t my best moment, sure. But that’s no reason for him to treat me like a criminal.”

Luther’s eyes darted to Boots’ jacket, and he gave Boots a Look. “Uh huh.”

“Look, it’s not like that!” Boots protested, spreading his hands out in front of him. “Okay, okay, I’m involved in some shady stuff, but I don’t do the actual stealing, I’m just the fence!”

“You’re knowingly transporting stolen goods, and you think that makes you better than the people you work with?”

Boots scoffed and shook his head. “It’s a rough galaxy out there, kid. We don’t all get to choose to keep our hands clean. I don’t kill anybody, and I don’t steal from people who can’t afford it. That’s as good as it gets.”

The comment seemed to strike a chord with Luther. He looked away and fidgeted with his wrist communicator, avoiding Boots’ eyes. “Well… maybe this is how you get out of it. I’ll put in a good word with the captain, maybe we can take you with us. I’m sure you’ve got some skills we could use - tenacity and survival, if nothing else…”

“Ha! Like hell. I’m sure if it weren’t for whatever law he’d’ve thrown me out the airlock by now.”

“You’ve got him all wrong. He’s just very protective of his crew. Any perceived threats make his hackles rise. And people on this ship get very… attached very quickly. You get someone on board to like you, he’ll warm up soon enough.”

“I got the dogs, didn’t I?”

Luther winced. “Yippers. They’re called Yippers. And you immediately tried to use them to mutiny, so I don’t think that put you in his good books. You’re going to need someone else to vouch for you.”

“Someone like you?” Boots raised an eyebrow.

“Well. Yes.” Luther brushed his hair out of his eyes, looking sheepish. “The captain and I do have a certain… understanding.”

“Huh.” Boots looked critically at Luther for a minute. “You two dating or something?”

Luther went red as a beet. “N-no! I mean! We’re just! We’re very good friends. It’s not like - I mean, he’s my superior officer, and all, it wouldn’t be appropriate, and anyway it’s none of your business!”

“So you are dating.”

Luther was saved from stammering out another reply by a massive blue finger and thumb that snagged the back of his uniform and lifted him out.

“That’s enough of that,” Captain Mersharc rumbled. “Back to your post, Officer Algers.”

Boots blew a strand of hair out of his face and smirked, leaning back against the side of the pocket. Ah. So it was like that, was it. Mister big scary alien had a soft spot for the cute little human. He’d have to remember that in case he could leverage it somehow later. Boots and Luther looked fairly alike, at least in that they both had chin-length brown hair and fair skin. But Luther was all soft roundness where Boots was sharp angles, and maybe that had something to do with it. He’d just have to perfect his innocent eyes and hope for the best.

He scratched at the patchy beard that’d grown in during his isolation. Hey, there was a thought. Wasn’t he supposed to get a bath at some point? And the Yipper slobber didn’t count. He stood up and yanked at the fabric against the captain’s chest.

“I’m not letting you out so you can terrorize my communications officer some more,” Mersharc said without looking down.

“I want a bath!” Boots yelled. That got the captain’s attention. He glanced down, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Okay, we can probably facilitate that.” He started to reach into the pocket, but Boots smacked his finger as it drew near.

“I’m sick of getting hoisted around like a sack of potatoes! You dangle me in the air one more time, I swear I’m gonna barf on you.” Boots had been ready for an argument, but he wasn’t expecting the captain to burst out laughing.

“Alright, alright, fair enough,” he said. “Here.” He reached in and curled his index finger around Boots’ back, pressing his thumb against his middle to keep him secure. Then he lifted Boots out and set him in his other palm. “How’s that?”

Boots blinked in the sudden light. He craned his neck to either side, taking in his surroundings, and noted that Luther was back on Mersharc’s shoulder. Presumably his post, then.

“Yeah, this’ll work. So about that bath? And I need to shave.”

Mersharc hmm’d for a second, rubbing his top lip with a finger. “Spose you could use the sink in my quarters for the bath. Algers, you got your multitool?”

Luther pulled a small silver rod from his belt and pushed himself forwards, sliding off the captain’s shoulder. Without missing a beat, the captain moved his hand over so that Luther landed neatly on his palm next to Boots.

“Here. It’s got a shave function.” Luther held the tool out to Boots.

For a half second, a possible future flitted through Boots’ mind. He could reach for the tool, but feint and pull Luther into a hold that would only take the slightest of twitches to snap his neck. He’d be in the palm of the captain’s hand, but he’d have all the power. Mersharc wouldn’t dare make a move for fear of losing his precious human. He could hold the whole ship hostage, get them to go anywhere, take whatever he wanted, and ride home in style…

The moment passed. Boots took the tool from Luther with a nod of thanks. He glanced up and caught the look on Mersharc’s face. He’d expected Boots to make a move, and he was genuinely surprised he hadn’t. Boots gave him a wry smile and flipped his hair out of his face. “I clean up nice,” he said, winking at the captain. “You’ll see.”

Maybe he could make it work with this crew after all.