ballistic vest

latimes.com
L.A. County Sheriff’s Department switches from silver to gold belt buckles at a cost of $300,000
By Maya Lau

Sheriff’s officials are spending $300,000 on items they say would make deputies look more professional in their jobs and could help make them safer.

But the taxpayer dollars won’t go toward tools such as higher-quality ballistic vests, backup guns or body cameras, all of which are optional items that deputies have to pay for on their own.

Instead, Sheriff Jim McDonnell is spending the money on a minor cosmetic makeover of deputies’ uniforms: changing the color of their belt buckles and other metal pieces of gear from silver to gold. 

The agency is facing a chronic staff shortage and a recurring budget deficit.

A Dark Alley - Ch.1 Written by Damain D. Wolf

warning contains: strong language, blood and violence, possible feels    

   “This is officer Hopps reporting in from cruiser 14 with officer Wilde. What is the update status on that 417?” The radio crackled for a second before Clawhauser’s voice could be heard “Yeah, the assailant seems to be a male badger, mid 30’s, carrying a high caliber revolver and is now a 217.” Nick looked over at Judy with a mildly surprised look mixed with excitement, “Wow, assault with intent to murder. We haven’t had anything like this in Zootopia for a long time. At least not that the ZPD finds out about.” Judy shot him a look of disapproval, “This isn’t a game Nick, animals will get hurt if we don’t do are jobs and do them right.” Nick gave a little smile, “I know, I know I’m just happy we finally get to do something besides hand out parking or speeding tickets is all.” Nick pulled out his Glock 19, pulling the slide back and giving the gun a quick look over. “You know we carry we things around, but never once have I used it off the gun range.” “That’s a good thing Nick.” Judy said with a stern tone in her voice. “The whole point of being a police officer isn’t to be getting into shoot outs. You don’t even wear your ballistics vest!” Judy shouted. “Well it causes such unsightly lines and messes with my figure. You manage to pull it off so well though, good on ya.” Nick smiled and winked at Judy as he pleaded his case. Judy gave him an annoyed look, “Well now you need it and don’t have it.” Nick gave a little shrug, “Don’t worry Carrots, everything will be fine. Sly fox remember?” Judy looked out the window as the parked across the street from the house of the incident. “I hope you’re right Nick.” Judy thought to herself.

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The Forgotten Finn: The Jatimatic SMG - 9mm Parabellum

The Finns have had a long history of gun manufacture, and many of high quality. M39 Mosins, Suomi SMG’s, Valmet rifles, all of these have been successes in both the Finnish Military and abroad. But one that’s forgotten is a SMG design from Finland. The Jatimatic.

Designed by Jali Timari and made by Tampereen Asepaja Oy and later Oy Golden Gun Ltd, the Jatimatic was a basic idea for a PDW style of submachinegun, intended for tank and helicopter crews, VIP protection and so on. The basic idea was straight blowback 9mm SMG, using an idea of an inclined ramp where the bolt travels up then down when cycling to minimize recoil, an idea borrowed from the French MAS 38.

The Jatimatic was an interesting design, but had flaws. The most notable is the lack of a stock, opting for a one piece sling. This kept it tight out of the military market, especially after it’s disassembly was built around the sling swivel. The gun’s takedown process began with moving the sling swivel, so it could on firing be pulled down, spilling out the gun’s guts.

This killed it’s military appeal, and a theft of 22 guns in 1984 from the shop led to the Jatimatic earning a rather infamous appeal. It failed two different Finnish Military tests, and the gun went out of production in 1986.

To cinema goers, the Jatimatic’s a relatively uncommon sight. To recoup costs, the Jatimatic’s manufacturer would rent it out to film productions for a cost. This led to a couple action movies featuring the Jatimatic. The two most famous are John Milius’s Red Dawn, where it’s carried by Soviet officer  Colonel Strelnikov as a substitute for the PM-63. 

It’s most famous usage was by Sylvester Stallone in Cobra. There, Lieutenant Marion “Cobra” Cobretti is armed with two weapons, a modified Colt Gold Cup National Match, and a Jatimatic SMG. If that wasn’t enough, he also has it fitted with a very early model Surefire laser sight.

If that wasn’t enough, comic fans know the Finnish SMG due to it’s heavy usage by DC Comic’s vigilante Wild Dog. Following the story of Jack Wheeler, former college football star and former US Marine, following his girlfriend’s murder at the hands of a local Mafia, he begins a streak of vigilante killings, armed with ballistic vests, electrified chock gloves, and a Jatimatic.

And that’s the short tale of the Jatimatic, a design with some promise killed by some rather bad design decisions. Had it be fitted with a different takedown procedure and folding stock, it could’ve gone somewhere. But it didn’t pan out that way, and the Jatimatic has faded into relative obscurity, showing up now and then on the illegal gun market and film.

Detectiv Kennex:


B
lood trickled down the detective’s temple, crimson
drops soaking into the ballistic vest that protected his
chest. It was safe to say that, in order for at least one
of them to survive, he’d have to take matters into his
own hands. Fingers flex against the grip of a pistol,
lips parted just enough for pearly whites to peek out
from beneath them.

I have to. If I don’t, we both die.

Why he was laying his life on the line for a synthetic
was beyond him. Maybe it was his time spent with
Dorian that had softened his outlook on them. Gary
was, after all, similar in the soul he possessed. Their
emotions, almost human, compelled him forward in
a way he would have scoffed at years ago.

Now you listen to me and you listen good.

The safety on his weapon was clicked off, stance
wavering slightly as he stepped forward with his
damaged prosthetic. They were both worse for wear
and, truth be told, Gary would probably stand a better
chance than he against the gathering of armed men
that were searching for them.

“The second I open fire, you run like Hell and you don’t stop
 until it’s clear enough to call for backup
. Do you understand?  


For a moment Gary was tempted to tell Detective Kennex
that there was still a 20 percent chance of making it out alive.
At least for Kennex. When one of them should survive, it should
be him. Doctor’s could patch him up, they have done it before.
The synthetic leg. A perfect symbol of life. The human body was
so fragile, so easily to break and bend, yet it was able to heal
itself. Broken bones melted into one again, torn skin sealed.
Even if damage was beyond repair, a lost leg, the human 
body was embracing something that was far away of it’s own
nature.
Gary was intrigued by the healing process of humans. It’s
something he never had, never will have. When he’s broken,
when he’s bend, the parts will be replaced. They had to be.
He couldn’t heal on his own, no matter how much he wished
he could.     

No…” Gary lowered his weapon. His synthetic soul, it didn’t let
him. Was it his moral? His conscience? He wasn’t familiar with
expressions of feelings yet. He couldn’t name them. “I’m not
going.” Even without this feeling…he couldn’t. A human life stood
above an androids, it must be protected with all it cost. It was
programmed deep down in his system. The number one rule. They 
brought him back to life for this. This was his job. Or to say it
the poetic way - it was his destiny. The only thing that mattered.
You could replace an android, there were plenty waiting in line to
get activated. Separated by a simple number.
Number 1257 was his. If Gary hadn’t be named before, that would
be his name now. Number 1257 and Number 1258 was just waiting
in line to replace him. The thought, it made his gust twist in…was it
sadness? A number all he was, no one there who would mourn.
Kennex - Kennex would be mourned. He couldn’t let that happen.    
  

“We’re partners - I’m with you till the end of the line, Detective.” He
almost called the other by his given name. It was proven by several
studies that calling someone by their given name improved a sense
of camaraderie and comfort. It’d be logical, that the other would be
more willing to listen. As much as Gary would have done to do so - to
shift the favours to his benefit - he didn’t. Kennex hadn’t allowed him,
he did respect it.  

His hands, tainted with purple, clutched the gun tighter. If his calculations
were right, he couldn’t entirely talk the human into leaving him behind. 
His psychological profile provided enough information. “You can’t take
them down alone. I however, should be enough distraction to hold them
at bay until you’ve called backup. My charge will provide me power for
another 45 minutes.” The damages he sustained, the last bullet he took, 
it had damaged his energy system. A day full of charge, it was gone
in a handful of moments. “ Detective - you’re not bulletproof. They will
likely aim at the area of your head. I can’t let you go in there.” The ‘you’re
not replaceable like me’ was left unspoken. Number 1258 was waiting in
line.

 “Please…” 

( @det-danger  | cont. from here )  

Payday 2 Fanfic: Jacket's here.

Summary: "Hi this is Tim working at the Laundrette. We got a rat infestation in out back, can you deal with it?“ Jacket gets a phonecall. How the hell are the Payday crew going to deal with this?
Triggers: Blood, violence
Word Count: 3647 (Fuck me sideways, did it all in one sitting too)

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Let’s try Diplomacy

@par-the-raider

Eliot walked up into Par’s camp, hands behind her back. Gender may have changed, but mannerisms haven’t. Though sadly, sense the assassin suit was designed for a male body, and these mounds of flesh on her chest made it too snug, Eliot had to wear something _lighter._ Which, translated to a ballistic vest, tshirt, and cargo pants. At least the cargo pants fit. Around her waist also sat what seemed to be a fanny pack, really just a belt version of the assassin suit’s stealth unit.

She cleared her throat, trying to get any one’s attention. “Out side, please. I don’t have a lot of time.” or patience, considering what recently happened,

dogmatix  asked:

fic prompt: Kit stuck his fangs cautiously out of Tin's helmet into the acrid, smoke-filled air.

{{ This was going to be short and cute and then I had to mention I was watching NCIS and someone decided to take that and RUN with it… *taps foot grumpily*}}

Fic under the cut, because it is hella long and *STILL NOT DONE*

———-

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Gear Up Guide: Commando Outfit

“The Commando outfit offers Lara a flexible and lightweight approach to combat in the Siberian Wilderness. Snow camo patterned cargo pants are paired with a custom ballistic vest and ammo pouches, all layered on top a dark gray tank. Nylon injected molded knee pads offer added protection when scrambling along the forest floor, and the durable double strap tactical leg holster keeps her pistol handy at a moment’s notice. Reinforced fingerless gloves give extra grip for traversal, and the hardened knuckles pack a punch in combat.”

- Art Director, Brenoch Adams 

Get the full resolution on Flickr.

Cultural Allusions

Words: 1,552
Notes: I claim no credit for this joke. I got it from this post, although it’s appeared in several other places since; the next logical step was to just run with it, since that’s in all probability what Natasha would do. 

Also, the concept was irresistible and I am weak. 

My most sincere apologies, and I hope I’m not overstepping when I assume you’re all familiar with “Shrek.” 

In May of 2001, Robert Bruce Banner (no aliases yet, although he prefers to go by his middle name) is thirty-one years old. He will turn thirty-two in December. His life centers around the study of anti-electron collision and its production of gamma ray photons, protein-lesion yields and viability in irradiated cells, an 8-bit TTL computer he’s been putting together from scrap, and a woman named Elizabeth Ross whom he has earnest hopes of marrying.

In May of 2001, Natalia Alianovna Romanova (alias “Natasha Romanoff,” alias “Black Widow,” alias “Whatever the Plot Requires”) is sixteen years old. She might turn seventeen in November. Her life centers around the sound of her own heartbeat inside her ears, the feeling of her own hands and arms as she washes off other people’s blood, the sight of a newly-made scar that runs horizontal across her lower abdomen, and the general idea of not getting herself killed. This shapes up to be a rather all-consuming avocation.

So neither party, understandably enough, is paying much attention to the activity of DreamWorks Studios, or a certain movie it promotes and releases that particular month.

(Bruce may vaguely note a period of several weeks during which he cannot turn around in the supermarket without seeing a green-faced creature – what was on its head, suction cups? – decorating the front of every cereal box and cookie package, but the image leaves no lasting impression. 

Natalia-Natasha-Black Widow, meanwhile, does not go to the cinemas. She already spends enough time sitting by herself in the dark, waiting for things to happen. Why give away her money for more of the same?)

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19.7 x 16.4 and Semi-Basements Chapter 3

That reading thing that you’re doing with your eyes right now, that makes me happy. And I think you and your opinions on this fic would look really cute in my inbox.

19.7 x 16.4 and Semi-Basements 

Chapter 3

“…supreme power is concentrated in the hands of one person, whose decisions are subject to neither external legal restraints nor regularised mechanisms of popular control.”

***

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Cash Catchem song lyrics!

I wanna wear the ballistic vest, like noone ever does.
To stealth heists is my real test. To rob banks is my cause.
I will travel across DC, searching far and wide
Each special unit, to understand. From cloakers I will hiiiiideeeeee
PAY-DAY-TWO GOTTA GET THAT DRILL
It’s you and me. I know it’s my destiny
PAY-DAY-TWO
Oooooh, Bain’s our best friend. Tells us where we must defend!
PAY-DAY-TWO GOTTA GET THAT DRILL
Ooooooh a vault so truuue. Our thermal drill will burn right through!
You rat Hox and we’ll kill you!
PAY-DAY-TWO, GOTTA GET THAT DRILL
(Gotta get that drill)

(As written by sG | Acebats on Steam)