armed with two guns


In 1931, a mysterious man of approximately 35-years-old arrived in Fort McPherson, Canada, claiming his name was Albert Johnson. He built a cabin in a remote location near the Rat River and began to make a living as a trapper. Later on in the year, other local trappers began to complain to the authorities that Johnson was sabotaging their traps. The authorities decided they would investigate this report and made their way to the secluded cabin; they weren’t expecting the relentless violence that would follow. 

As the authorities arrived with a search warrant, Johnson shot through the wooden door and an almighty firefight ensued. Johnson kept the authorities at bay and remained inside his cabin for the next nine days, when an RCMP posse arrived to apprehend him on New Year’s Eve. A 15-hour standoff in below-freezing weather then took place. The RCMP used dynamite to blow the cabin up and upon entering to remove what they assumed would be his corpse, they were more than shocked to find Johnson still miraculously alive. He was standing among the wreckage, armed with two guns that he immediately began to fire, before escaping into the woods nearby the cabin. 

On 30 January, 1932, authorities managed to catch up with Johnson, who shot and killed Constable Edgar Millen, before escaping once again. He crossed the Richardson Mountains in the middle of a blizzard and entered Yukon Territory. The news of this extreme manhunt had made it’s way into the media who dubbed him “The Mad Trapper of Rat River.” People were mystified as to how this man could have survived for so long in near 50 below zero weather and two extreme blizzards. It was evident that he wasn’t just your average trapper, that’s for sure. 

On 17 February, the RCMP finally tracked Johnson down at the frozen Eagle River, where he was eventually killed with 9 bullets to the body in a firefight. Bizarrely, following his death it was revealed that Albert Johnson was not his real name. Despite numerous attempts to discover his true identity, he still remains unidentified.

Growing Up Batty: Part 6

AN: So I’ve actually finished writing this series. It has two parts left to be posted and then it shall be done. I’m very excited for you guys to read the ending. I think it’ll be very different from what you’re used to.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

You and your parents have an understanding, they don’t ask any questions and you don’t put your life in blatant danger. They know it could be worse, that you could have ended up like either of your parents. And honestly there’s a lot worse things than fighting Gotham’s crime at night. Still, you understand their blissful ignorance, and you fully support it.

           You launch yourself from one roof to the next, and take off running. You cherish the burn in your lungs and the ache in your legs. Then you’re falling, in between buildings and into an alleyway.

           It takes nothing to incapacitate the mugger there. You leave him for the cops to find, before scaling the wall back to the roof. Damian is waiting for you, his legs thrown over the side as he stares at the sky line.

           You wait for him to make the first move. He does, just like always. He holds out a small box. Curiously, you take it. Inside is a cupcake. You glance at him, and see the lightest tinge of a blush on his face. He clears his throat and says, “Happy Anniversary.”

           You cock your head to the side, “Which one did I forget?” He raises an eyebrow in question, and you continue, “Which anniversary? Friendship? Study date? First time I came to your house?”

           He sighs, “You’re infuriating.”

           You shrug, “I’m told it’s in my DNA.”

           He rolls his eyes, “You’ve officially been Nightingale for three years now.”  

           Your brow furrows, “I get an anniversary cupcake for that?”


           “You and the guys don’t get cupcakes. Neither does Bruce.”

           “You’re special.”

           “How am I special?”

           There’s several moments of silence before he reaches for the cupcake, and says, “Never mind, you’re ordinary and you don’t deserve a cupcake.”

           You hold it out of his reach, “I always deserve a cupcake. You’re adorable when you’re ornery.”

           He pouts while you eat it. Occasionally, you let him swipe some icing, before you get back to it. You run the rooftops together, leaning on each other. You work as a team, a fearsome duo.

           By the time the sun rises you’ve taken out ten muggers, stopped two robberies, and stopped an armed gun fight. It’s three am, you’re exhausted, and ready for bed. Of course, bed isn’t always an option. Especially when the big guy calls you in.

           Two years ago, Bruce had split the team into sections. You worked on a rotating schedule, and more often than not, you and Damian were paired together near the docks. Bruce only called everyone in for big stuff. A bit reluctantly, you follow Damian back to the cave.

           Everyone is there and waiting, and that’s when you get the news; Harley Quinn had broken the Joker out of Arkham.

           You don’t feel embarrassed, or sad, you’re mad. Your mother had been laying low for years. While there were occasional sightings of her she hadn’t done anything particularly bad in the years since you’d become Nightingale. And Joker, he had somehow stayed under lock and key the whole time.

           You weren’t exactly excited about the idea of a family reunion, and when Bruce tells you to go home, you’re not surprised. Even if everyone else is. You’re part of the team, they argue, it’s not fair. But you’re more than willing to sit this one out. So, you hang up your suit, and head home.

           You’re five blocks from home when the first plant starts to sprout. You slow the motorcycle to a stop, and carefully dismount after cutting the engine. You walk to the curb and take a seat. She shows up moments later.

           She sits down next to you, crossing her legs, “Hello, Arlecchino.”

           You blink at her, “Pamela.”

           She smiles at the formality, “How’s the superhero life treating you?”

           You frown, but you’re not surprised, if she had been able to read your DNA all those years ago, it doesn’t surprise you that she knows your alter ego as well. “Peachy. What do you want?”

           “Your mother is in trouble.”

           “My mother is five blocks down the road already asleep. You are referring to my carrier.”

           “Is that resentment I hear?”

           “Only for her actions.”

           She nods, “Fair enough. Doesn’t change the fact that she needs your help.”

           You hesitate before asking, “What happened?”

           Pamela stares at you, “Your father found out about you.”

           Your eyes go wide, “Who told him?”

           “She did.”


           Pamela sighs, “After we met all those years ago, I confronted her about you. She demanded information about you. Then started talking about taking you back. That couldn’t happen. I know that, and you know that, but Harley…”

           “Is crazy.”

           “Only because of the Joker. I told her no, that it would ruin your life, and that seemed to knock sense into her, right up until she saw you on TV. She went ballistic, left the greenhouse before I could stop her, went to get Joker’s help in getting you back. Wants the three of you to be a family. The seeds I planted on her, the ones that measure her vitals, tell me she’s in bad shape.”

           You wipe your hands over your face, “Why can’t you get her?”

           “Because she won’t listen to me. Won’t believe her delusion won’t come true until she sees it.”

           You scowl, “You mean until she sees him almost kill me.”

           “To put it in blunt terms, yes.”

           You shake your head and stand up, “I know better. One sidekick already died at his hands, I doubt I’ll be lucky enough to come back. She’s made her bed and now she has to lie in it.” Without another word, you walk away, mount your bike, and go.

Police Have Shot Dead 385 People In Five Months!!!

U.S. police have shot and killed 385 people during the first five months of this year, a rate of more than two a day, the Washington Post reported on Saturday.

The death rate is more than twice that tallied by the federal government over the past decade, a count that officials concede is incomplete, the newspaper said.

The analysis is based on data the Post is compiling on every fatal shooting by police in 2015, as well as of every officer killed by gunfire in the line of duty.

“We are never going to reduce the number of police shootings if we don’t begin to accurately track this information,” said Jim Bueermann, president of the Police Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to improving law enforcement.

The Post analysis comes as a national debate is raging over the police use of deadly force, especially against minorities.

Federal Bureau of Investigation records over the past decade show about 400 fatal police shootings a year, or an average of 1.1 deaths a day. Reporting of shootings by police agencies is voluntary.

But the Post’s analysis indicates the daily death toll for 2015 is close to 2.6 as of Friday. At that pace, police will have shot and killed nearly 1,000 people by the end of the year, the paper said.

The Post’s analysis showed that about half the victims were white, half minority. Among unarmed victims, two-thirds were black or Hispanic.

Based on census numbers for the areas where the killings took place, blacks were killed at three times the rate of whites or other minorities.

The victims ranged in age from 16 to 83. More than 80 percent were armed with potentially lethal objects, mostly guns. Ninety-two victims were identified as mentally ill.

Even a blind man can see what’s going on..


The Battle of Blair Mountain

 Around the turn of the century in West Virginia, the coal companies controlled everything. They owned the towns, had their own private militias, and even paid local law enforcement officers and politicians.  However, the coal companies control over the state began to wane when the miners started to unionize. One of the last counties to unionize was Logan Country, located in the southwest of the state. In 1920, agents of the Baldwin Felts Detective Agency arrived in the independent town of Matewan to evict several miners families and arrest the local police chief, Sid Hatfield.  Hired by the coal companies, the men were essentially there to strong arm the town, which was staunchly pro-union. Days before, the coal companies had tried to bribe the local mayor into placing 5 machine guns on the roofs of the town buildings "in order to maintain order" among the coal miners.  The agents threw out several families from their homes at gunpoint.  They were met by Chief Hatfield and his deputies, who told them to get out of town.  A gunfight ensued, resulting in the deaths of ten men, 7 of which were Baldwin Felts agents, including two of the brothers of the company’s founder, Albert and Lee Felts. The town mayor, Cabell Testerman, was also killed.

Police Chief Sid Hatfield

Sid Hatfield was cleared of murder charges, which was seen as a great victory against the coal companies.  Bolstered by the victory, Sid Hatfield and a union organizer named Bill Blizzard organized the miners of Logan County into a union, which quickly went on strike.  The coal companies responded by hiring scabs and strike breakers.  On August 1st, 1921 Sid Hatfield was called to McDowell County to stand trial for sabotaging a mine. While walking up the courthouse steps with his friend Ed Chambers and their wives,  a group of Baldwin Felts agents opened fire, killing Hatfield and Chambers.  Chambers, who was only wounded, was executed by one of the agents with a gunshot to the back of the head.

 Enraged, the miners took up arms and organized to forcefully break the power of the coal companies. They were joined by thousands of miners from other counties who were sympathetic to their cause.  Altogether, the miners formed an army consisting of around 10,000 men.  Its is no exaggeration that they were an army, many of the miners were World War I veterans who had seen combat in Europe.  Armed with hunting rifles and shotguns, they organized battalions and regiments, assigned commanders, set up command posts, set up hospitals and mess tents, dug trenches, and did everything that a well organized army would do. Their opposition, a eclectic group of coal company militias, guards, state and local police, and Baldwin Felts agents, only numbered around 3,500, however they were well armed with machine guns and other military weapons.

On August 25th, the two sides met, and a battle raged in the West Virginia mountains for almost a week.  In the ensuing battle, 50-100 miners were killed, around 30 men on the side of the coal companies were killed.  Hundreds more were wounded on both sides.  The battle ended when Federal troops arrived on September 2nd.  985 miners were indicted for treason and murder, but in the end none were charged.  Overall the battle was a victory for the coal companies in the short term, who clamped down even harder on the miners.  In the long term, the battle was a victory for the miners, as the battle rose awareness of the coal miners plight.


The most under-appreciated scene of the series has to be the scene where Kara and Lucy rescue J'onn and Alex from being taken to Cadmus (season 1 episode 17 - Manhunter).

Like check it:

Kara and Lucy are decked in all black, wearing body armor (well, only Lucy since Kara is invunerable and all), and motorcycle helmets. They are driving up the side of slanted walls and popping wheelies. These two gals are getting shot at (not to mention that they are also armed with guns as well). I mean, seriously, these two chicks just committed treason, and they did it with grace and badass style.

(Not to mention the beautiful Kara-Alex sister scene we got at the end of the rescue. Mess me up, why don’t you?)

Also, it raises many headcanons:

Where did Kara and Lucy get the motorcycles, and after J'onn and Alex drove away with the motorcycles, how did they get home? They couldn’t take the eighteen wheeler, because it would incriminate them, so what? Did Kara fly Lucy back, or did they just chill and wait for James to pick them up? If so, how did they pass the time?

Also, Alex totally taught Kara how to ride a motorcycle. Let’s be honest.

I mean, honestly, I just love this scene y'all.

Colombian Air Force, modernized Bell UH-1H Huey II “Owl” armed observation helicopter, which is equipped with two .50 GAU-19 Gatling guns on each door. 

Fuerza Aérea Colombiana, helicóptero de observación armado y modernizado Bell UH-1H Huey II “Buho”, el cual está equipado con dos ametralladoras rotativas de 12.7mm tipo Gatling GAU-19 en cada puerta.


      And when ye screamed, I went to you, armed wi’ nothing but an empty gun and my two hands. Jamie was speaking a little more calmly now, but his eyes were still wild with pain and rage. I was silent. Unsettled by the horror of my encounter with Randall, I had not at all appreciated the desperate courage it had taken for him to come into the fort after me.

The Daughter of Hades - rewrite // p1

summary: you thought your close friend and long time crush James Buchanan Barnes was going off to war, but it seems you would be the one to battle all types of war from being a weapon for a dangerous organization known as Hyrda, to fighting a war with your own mind.

pairings: Bucky x female reader

warnings: angst, violence, car crash, injections, swearing,

thoughts are in italics

A/N: i really appreciate all of the great feedback i got from the original Daughter of Hades, but personally i wasn’t happy with some of the content and decided to rewrite the (unfinished) series with a new plot :) i hope everyone enjoys this adaptation as much as the first <3

Originally posted by imagine-that-marvel

1945, Brooklyn

Naturally, you weren’t much of a drinker, you’d have a couple of beers and stop there. People would call you the sober one, even though you drank more than any normal girl. They’d say you weren’t fun; but you felt responsible for your friends and wanted to make sure they got home safe. But with Bucky leaving for war soon, why not have more than usual? You’d been out with a few friends tonight, two of your closest friends Bucky and Steve who you’ve known since high school, and Clara who had just dealt with a break up. She was completely heart broken and ended up having two beers, a whisky and three glasses of wine. You had just been to the bathroom and returned to see Steve and Bucky at the bar, with Clara in a corner booth with her head on the table next to an uncomfortably close man.

“Steve! Bucky!” You shouted over the chatter so you could scowl at them for not looking after your friend. “Why is Clara half asleep on the table?” You said in your mun voice with your hands on your hips.

“She went to sit with some girls that new her.” Bucky said without turning to look at her, but he was never good at looking confident when you were in your mum stance.

Annoyed at their ignorance and carelessness, you grabbed both of them by the ear and turned them to Clara’s table. “I’m pretty sure he is not a girl and that Clara does not know him.” You pushed through the middle of them to make your way to Clara, but not without smacking both of them on the back of the head.

“Clara, honey I think it’s time we get you home.” You shook her gently to stir her awake, to which she sat up a little to quickly.

She moaned and held her head, “Okay, but I’m driving,”

You chuckled lightly and helped her out of the booth; you started walking to Bucky and Steve, when someone grabbed your arm. “Hey, you can’t take her away she’s with me.” The man that was next to Clara slurred his words together, his breath reeked of alcohol.

“I don’t think so.” You tried pulling your arm free but he tightened his grip.

“C’mon she’s safe with me.” He leant in further to you.

“Look sweetie, nobody would be safe with you. We’re leaving.”

“Alright you can stay if you want,” He started raising his voice which caught the attention of Steve and Bucky. You finally got your arm free and turned away again, “but you’re not going anywhere, sweetcheeks.” He landed a hard smack on your ass and grinned proudly. You froze in your tracks and slowly turned to face him.

Bucky wanted to punch that guy in the face so hard for what he just did to you; his crush on you meant he was always overprotective but this time it was necessary. But before he was within three feet of the man, you punched him square in the nose. There was a loud crack as his head flew back and he lost his balance, you kicked him in the groin for good measure making him curl up on the floor. 

When you turned around, Steve was holding up Clara, Bucky was gawking at you and the whole bar was quiet. Even the music had stopped. You smoothed out the creases in your dress and smiled like you just walked into the room. Your heels echoed throughout the room as you moved to Clara.

The music quickly returned and so did the chatter, probably about the kind faced woman giving a drunken giant a broken nose. You thanked Steve for helping Clara and turned to Bucky who still stared at you in awe.

“You catching flies there Buck?” When you didn’t get a reply you pushed up his jaw and gave him a lingered kiss on the cheek. “I’m taking Clara home, I’ll see you tomorrow. Dancing right?” He nodded slowly. You gave Steve a peck on the cheek as well. “Bye Steve.”

“Wait Y/N, are you going to get home okay?” It was cute how concerned he looked while still having the shock in his eyes from the current events. It did annoy you slightly though.

“Sweetie, I’m not that far away from here I’ll be fine.” You winked and then left.

Bucky, still quite shocked at the fight you put up, sat down in his stool bar and sighed. “What am I going to do punk?”

Steve retook his seat next to Bucky and ordered drinks for the two. “What do you mean?” Bucky was never unsure of anything, especially when it came to girls.

“I think I’m in love.” He replied with a smile.

“You’ve got to tell her Buck. What happened to the confident, ladies man I grew up with? Y’know, say something before its too late.” Steve rested a hand on Bucky’s back.

The bartender returned with their drinks and Bucky took a sip; he’d be shipping to England soon and he may never see you again. But for once in his life he didn’t know what to say to a girl. You weren’t like the other girls he’s dated; you were cocky, you preferred hanging out with the boys, you weren’t afraid to stand up for yourself; you just beat up a guy in front of a bar full of people and when the two of you first met you were the first to resist his charm. 

He raised his glass to Steve in cheers. “Tomorrow. When we go dancing.” He said smiling.

“I’ll make sure of that.”

“I know you would. If I don’t you’ll be on my ass ‘till I leave.” They both laughed loudly, and did for the rest of the night.

The drive home was thankfully peaceful, Clara had fallen asleep, rain was tapping on the roof and windshield of the car, and there was no traffic. Unusual. The street lamps created a warm, orange hue that reflected off the wet roads and created the illusion of driving on a river that was ablaze with an auburn fire. Either that or you had started hallucinating due to the amount of alcohol you drank. But you were a good driver none the less, and a safe one at that.

 But it surprised you when your headache got painfully stronger and the pounding in your head got louder Your vision had also started to blur, which is probably why you didn’t notice the tow large military Jeeps in front and behind you, suddenly appear. The problem was the one in front of you was facing you, you just didn’t know.

The Jeep behind you suddenly sped up and pulled up beside the driver’s door, it then rammed into the car forcefully and bent your car door inwards, trapping your arm. You managed to keep control of the car but didn’t hit the brakes, adrenaline had clouded your thinking skills. The Jeep next to you slowed and your gaze followed it as it dropped behind you.

When you returned your gaze to the road ahead, you were met with full beam headlights directly in your path by around 20 meters. You tried to swerve out f the way but the passenger side grazed the Jeep and the back flew out. The car spun twice before clipping the kerb and rolling down the main street in a battered wreck.

The car was now on it’s side in the middle of the road. You looked to your right to see Clara’s body lazily slumped against the car door as your seatbelt held you above her. Drops of blood were dripping from your head and landing on her beautiful face, then slowly running across the valley of her features. There was a large pool of blood next to her, when you followed the drips of blood you traced it to your left arm which hung loosely across your chest. It was broken. You groggily muttered Clara’s name to ask her for her injuries, but soon realized that her chest lay still and that another pool of blood bordered her head.

A light shines across your face for a brief second; you look up to see two dark figures walking towards you, flashlight in hand. They were talking amongst themselves in a foreign language with thick accents as they approached. If you weren’t hanging limply in your car with a broken arm you would’ve tried to get out and see who they were, but you were slowly losing consciousness.

For a moment you thought you were hallucinating, but in fact the car was being turned to sit haphazardly on all four wheels. The quick and unsettling movement caused pain to grow all over your body, especially due to your head and arm injuries.

Your car door was ripped from its secure spot, exposing the two mangled bodies inside. One of the figures shone the light directly into your eyes, to which you squinted and slowly turned away. The other figure was looking through the passenger window at Clara. They began conversing in the same language as before; the figure next to Clara walked off while the one next to you rested a hand on your shoulder.

"You need to come with us it’s not safe here, we can help you.” The figure, now speaking in English, still had their thick accent. You turned to look at them and saw a small man in a great suit with round glasses. “I’m going to get more help, wait here.”

When he walked out of sight, you noticed he had left a briefcase on the ground. You one-handedly unclipped the seatbelt and stumbled quietly out of the vehicle. The briefcase was surprisingly unlocked, so you rummaged through the contents for something; anything that could give you answers to who these people are.

Underneath multiple forms and confidential files, a handgun lay at the bottom of the case. After making sure it had a few rounds in it, you walked round the passenger side of the car wreckage. The crash hadn’t damaged your legs too much but they did hurt with all of your weight on them. You aimed the gun at the small man, who was talking to a significantly larger one, and lent on the car for support; also for a steady aim.

When the gun clicked after you had armed it, the two men turned to face you; both shocked at how you got the gun, and how you had such strength and determination after such a big accident. “Who are you?” You choked out.

“Darling, I’m a doctor.” He started as he walked to you slowly, as if not to spook an animal. “You shouldn’t be walking, you’ve suffered a lot of injuries. Let me take you to the hospital.”

You weren’t sure if the alcohol still had an affect on you or if you actually believed this man, but you lowered the gun and rested yourself on the floor against the car. Just then he lent down and whispered in your ear. “Everything that follows is all for a great cause.”

Before you and ask him what he meant, the larger man pinned you down and stabbed a needle into your neck. Very quickly, you stated loosing all feeling in your body and was going limp, every object in front of you seemed to merge into one, and then everything went black.

tags: @that-sarcastic-pisces, @writings-of-a-british-fangirl

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this re-write, I just felt like we needed some original Bucky love in there to get the plot going. 😊

do you want to be tagged? let me know in the comments or message me?

late night kiss pt. 3

A/N: Wow, a third part! This is crazy! Thank you for everyone who is enjoying and continuing on with this story, as well as everyone who sent in a request for a part three! Let me know if you want another part.

Summary: You decide to seriously attempt to learn who Spider-Man really is.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

01 | 02 | 04 | 05 | 06 

You shifted in bed, wondering why it was so hot. Something stirred behind you and you furrowed your brows as you felt something move on your stomach. You blearily blinked your eyes open, looking down and seeing an arm draped across you. A little wiggling revealed that a warm body was pressed against you and your cheeks flushed when you felt something hard.

“Y/N!” a deep voice yelled from outside. Your eyes snapped wide open and you turned quickly, smacking your hand on Peter’s face by accident. He grunted and opened his eyes slowly, giving you an odd look.

“What—” he started, but you slammed your palm across his mouth, sitting up on your elbow, putting you slightly over him. He tried to say something, but his voice was muffled.

“Shh!” you whispered, your heart beating hard.

“Y/N?” your dad’s voice called again, sounding unsure. “Are you already awake?” You saw your door knob start to turn and you didn’t know what to do, looking at Peter’s wide brown eyes staring back at you in just as much panic.

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vladalkorrah  asked:

If you haven't done it already, could we see the Gundam Heavy arms? non endless waltz?

XXXG-01H Gundam Heavyarms

Created by Gundam Scientist (and expert in ballistic weaponry) Doktor S, the Heavyarms was built with ranged combat in mind. 

It was armed with a beam gatling gun, two gatling guns housed in the chest, two machine cannons mounted on its torso, two vulcan guns mounted in the head and finally several missiles were housed in pods on its shoulders and legs.


January 15, 1917 - British Admiralty Announces Losses to German Surface Raiders

Pictured - SMS Seeadler, a German raider and one of the last sailing ships ever used in wartime. Painting by Christopher Rave.

The British Admiralty declared its losses to German surface raiders, noting ten British and 2 French ships had been sunk in the last weeks of 1916. Although most German attacks came from the U-boats, in 1917 Germany still had a number of surface raiders prowling the seas, especially in the Indian and Pacific, where Allied naval supremacy could be more easily avoided. The most remarkable of these vessels was SMS Seeadler,

German for “sea eagle”, Seeadler was a three-mast sailing ship, a windjammer used for merchant shipping. Originally, she was an American ship, but after being captured by a U-boat (and then captured by the British, and then recaptured by another U-boat, with the help of the American crew), she became the property of the German Imperial Navy. So began a strange career as a naval surface raider.

In December 1916, Seeadler set sail disguised as a Norwegian merchantman, but carried hidden 105mm guns, two heavy machine guns, and a well-armed complement of sailors. For almost a year, she led the French and Royal Navies on a chase around the world, capturing some 15 Allied vessels in the Atlantic and Pacific along the way, before finally being shipwrecked in French Polynesia in September 1917.


Flakturm VIII G-Tower in Arenbergpark, Vienna

 Common wisdom tells us that modern artillery and military aviation made use of stone fortifications obsolete. However, the German Flaktürme are a remnant of WWII that looks more like something from the time of the Crusades then age of the Blitzkrieg. 

These monumental concrete fortresses served as platforms for batteries of anti-aircraft guns. In order to boost the air defense of German cities, Hitler ordered the building of a series of immense towers throughout the country. Three of these towers were built in Berlin, an additional two in Hamburg and six more in Vienna. 

 The towers were heavily armed, usually housing eight (four twin) 128 mm guns and thirty-two (eight quad) 20 mm guns. With these guns the towers were capable of rates of fire up to 8000 rounds per minute, with a range of up to 14 km in a full 360-degree field of fire. Each tower complex consisted of two separate towers, one G or gun towers and an L-tower which served as command center. In addition, the towers served as air raid shelters for up to 10,000 people. 

 The tower walls were 3.5m (!) of reinforced concrete, enough to survive an attack by conventional bombs carried by Allied bombers of the age. Soviet 203mm howitzers merely chipped away the concrete and could never actually penetrate the walls. It was only when supplies and ammo ran out that these towers were surrendered.

The majority of flakturms still stand today. They are too big to effectively dismantle or demolish, plus the space they occupy is worth less than the cost of demolition.

though just a flicker it may be

summary: the zombie apocalypse au nobody asked me for. captain cobra swan abounds.

word count: ~10,700

also on:, ao3

If she had met Killian Jones under any other circumstance, she would most likely be irritated with him for just about every aspect of his existence.

However, she meets him just in the nick of time, as she’s being cornered by two zombies that just won’t quit and her kid is screaming, “Help me! Help! Mom!”

Their dashing savior enters the scene on a motorcycle, armed with a small blade and a gun.

Keep reading

  • Akashi: Ah, a voice message from Kotarou? I wonder what this one is about.
  • [beep]
  • Hayama: Akashi, are you there?! Please pick up the phone! We’re in deep shit right now–
  • Mibuchi: Explain it to him first! Because we REALLY didn’t have to take a RANDOM KID AS A HOSTAGE!
  • Nebuya: He’s not a hostage! He was being bullied by those brats for aspiring to be a fashion designer and he wanted to run away from his oppressive mafia family! How the hell could I say no to those eyes?! Just keep driving, Hayama!
  • Mayuzumi: You said we were going to watch the new Love Live movie.
  • Hayama: Shut up, man! Okay, look, Akashi, we were just cruising around town, but then we stumbled onto this little kid turf war and before we knew it we’re running away from two angry mafia families armed with real guns! They’re chasing us right now and we’re headed to your place, so please, for the love of God, be there and save–
  • Mibuchi: Kotarou, eyes on the road!
  • Mayuzumi: Truck.
  • [beep]
  • Akashi: …It’s like I never left Teikou at all.

Frontier High School Shooting 
Barry Loukaitis 

“This sure beats the hell out of algebra, doesn’t it?”, was what 14 year old Barry Loukaitis said when he kept a class hostage at gunpoint. On February the 2nd 1996, Loukaitis entered Frontier Middle School. in Washington, armed with multiple guns and opened fire, two students and a teacher were killed.

In September 1997, Barry Loukaitis was charged as an adult and sentenced to life in prison.

Barry Loukaitis claimed that he only intended to kill one student and the rest were accidental, but prosecutors believed it was a well planned attack. It’s believed that Barry was influenced by Pearl Jam’s song Jeremy, a music video which displays a troubled teenager shoots up a school. Barry was also inspired by Natural Born Killers, Basketball Diaries and Stephan King’s book Rage, also depicts a school shooter who killed teachers and holds an algebra class hostage

Years before the shooting, Barry Loukaitis’s family became dysfunction. After his parents got divorced his mother would frequently talk about suicide, even saying that Barry would also need to kill himself, but the young man talked his mum out of it. Loukaitis was also suffering from hyperactivity and clinical depression, taking ritalin. 

Mirage 2000 Fighter

The Mirage 2000 has nine hardpoints for carrying weapon system payloads: five on the fuselage and two on each wing. The single-seat version is also armed with two internally mounted, high-firing-rate 30mm guns.
Close Stranger pt2

A/n: You guys asked for it! Here’s part two of ‘Close Stranger’. Depending the reactions I might do a part three which will be the conclusion of this plot. A reminder that I take requests as well so if you have a request then drop it in the ask box!

Warning: I tried to angst yet again but trust, it ends well.

Drip, Drip, Drop

Tik, Tik, Tok

You laid there, on your bed in silence staring back at the ceiling. As if it was the most interesting and captivating thing in the world. In an attempt to stay sane and keep yourself from being devoured by your unrealistic and desperate thoughts, you continued to stare up.

The pitter-pattering of the rain, the ticking of your clock, the bickering of the married couple that lived in the apartment above you. You tried so hard to let those sounds take over your mind and help keep your thoughts at bay.  But they just kept coming back.

“Red Hood acts a lot like Jason…”

“What if he’s alive…?”

“What if he’s somehow Red Hood?”

No. You you shook your head. Impossible. After the events of your last encounter, Red Hood avoided you completely. If he was Jason, as your mad little brain speculated then wouldn’t he have told you? Has your mourning driven you to the point of madness?

You needed to get out of here or your insanity was going to consume you. You got up and started changing, threw on a coat and a pair of boots and left your apartment. With no particular destination in mind, you began walking down the streets of Gotham city.

The rain didn’t bother you much. In fact, the feeling of the raindrops on your head relaxed you a bit.  As you continued walking a sudden realization comes to your mind. You recognized this path. Hoping your memory served you right, you turned left and found yourself across from pure nostalgia. You crossed the crosswalk, and faced the door of a cute little diner. A diner that held so many beautiful memories of you and Jason. You and Jason used to stop by here after patrol to grab a bite, and you would always force Jason to buy you your favorite drink, despite how much he complained, you knew how he was more than happy to oblige. You bit your lip, trying to hold back any overflowing emotions. Dick would always tell you how it was unhealthy to still be in this permanent state of mourning, but what can you do?

Have you ever met someone who made such a big impact on your life? Someone who painted colors on your monochrome life and made it worthwhile? Well that person to you, was Jason. It was hard to simply move on. Not at this moment at least.

After buying yourself your favorite drink for old time’s sake, you began heading back to your apartment. You decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway when you heard gun shots. Your heroic instinct starts kicking in as you drop your drink and start looking around frantically, trying to identify the source. Catching the glimpse of figures firing at each other on the roof of a building, you start moving towards that building’s fire escape ladder. As soon as you reach the roof, you recognize a glare of red against the moonlight. It was Red Hood’s helmet. You weren’t in your heroic attire, but that didn’t stop you.

Red Hood was up against four men. Two were armed with guns and two weren’t. You decided to take the unarmed guys and leave the gun men to Red Hood, as he was armed himself. You ran into the scene with a fist to one of the men as a grand entrance. Red Hood caught by surprise at your presence yells out

“Y/N? What are you doing here you idiot! GET DOWN!”

Instinctively, after hearing his warning, you grab the second man by the collar and pull him in front of you, having him shield you from the incoming bullet. He was only grazed on right abdomen, but it was painful enough to subdue him. While Red was preoccupied with shooting down the first gunman and you were setting down the injured thug you were dealing with, you both for a second neglected to acknowledge the second gunman, who had his pistol aimed directly on your forehead with eyes full of anger and determination to blow your head off.

You froze.

The next few minutes went by in a blink. You felt a pull on your arm, and warmth enveloping your frozen frame, then came a gun shot. Your eyes weren’t closed, but you saw nothing. Long agonizing minutes of silence passed, before you lift your head up, to realize that you were in Red Hood’s arms. He pulled you out of the way, shielded you and shot the gunman, but none of that mattered to you.

“Don’t enter a damn fight without your suit, idiot.” He scolded.

You were so focused on his damn helmet. Something inside you begged you to take that helmet off, to see for yourself who was under that cover, and to put your thoughts to rest.

And so you did.

You slowly raised your hands to cup the helmet with your eyes directly staring at him. Showing no signs of struggle. You slowly raise the helmet off of his head, only to be met with those sweet blue eyes you were robbed the freedom to see.

It was Jason.

“Jason…. Jason Peter Todd…” You repeated his name in an inaudible whisper, shocked and unable to believe your own two eyes.

“Y/N…” Jason cups your cheek with his hand assuring you with his touch that this is no dream, but sweet, sweet reality. “I’m sorry- I’m back…” He continued looking at you with an incomprehensible emotion. A hint of guilt and pain was there, but that was not all. He pulled your face closer, and placed a gentle, loving kiss on your forehead.

“Jason-” Your eyelids began to get heavy as you struggled to find strength in you to keep standing. Slowly, you began to drift into darkness. But the darkness didn’t bother you anymore.

Now that you were in the arms of the one person wished back.

Make the World Brand New (Oliver/Felicity)

A/N: Because we’re all going to be drowning in heartbreak and angst come Wednesday, have some happiness. Title from “World Spins Madly On” by The Weepies. Also on ao3.

Felicity has always wanted a family. It’s something that she knows she needs as certainly as she knows the need to breathe. Being abandoned by a father who obviously never loved her and cared for by a mother who never understood her—it set a sort of precedent, a sort of challenge. She wants what she never had: a home, complete with cozy bedtime stories and cheery holidays and too many birthdays to count.

It would be a miserable lie to say she hasn’t thought about it more than a million times, this future she could someday build with someone she loves. Naturally, when Oliver enters the picture, those thoughts turn to him.

They’ve only been together for eight months, a precarious, glass relationship that is both stronger and more fragile than any other she’s had before. This feeling she has around him—it’s overwhelming, like it could hold the weight of the world and break her in the same breath. It paralyzes her and she can’t live without it.

When the stick turns blue, her feelings intensify by about a million. She becomes shattered and whole, thrilled and terrified. One hundred percent convinced that she can never tell him, like, ever.

(Yeah, so the science of that resolution probably won’t work out. Felicity raises an indignant middle finger to science.)

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