#Mild steel tubes

[astpipes]

From Corten steel ERW pipes to YST 310 tubes, steel remains the backbone of construction. Our range includes steel pipes, mild steel tubes, and ERW tubes for diverse applications. Whether it's square, round, or rectangular pipes and tubes, we offer robust solutions. With durability and reliability at the forefront, our steel products ensure structural integrity in every project. Trust in the versatility of steel pipes and tubes to meet your construction needs with precision and performance.

#Corten steel ERW pipe #yst 310 pipe #yst 310 tube #Steel pipe #Mild steel tubes #Ms pipe #Square pipe

[pranjal-laghari]

There are two grades classified into this sword which ameliorate the resistivity to erosion, wear- resistance, and high tensile strength. It is ideal to find a well-known mild steel seamless pipes manufacturers for buying high-quality products.

#mild steel seamless pipes manufacturers #ms cold drawn seamless pipe manufacturer #precision tube manufacturers in india #stainless steel tube manufacturers

[jrspipesandtubes]

JRS Pipes and Tubes is the best ms pipe dealers came in the presence in 2000 with a mission to give best pipes answers for India. We give different sort of pipes and tubes like gentle steel empty area (SHS, RHS), gentle steel round pipes, GI pipes, MS round pipes, consistent pipes and so forth that settles generally sort of seepage, water supply and industry issue in a costs powerful way. We JRS Pipes and Tubes as a main MS pipe wholesaler generally trusts in client fulfillment so we give high performing, quality item and administration to our clients that esteem us in the administrative role in pipes and tubes industry. In this cutting edge corporate world, where development and advancement is the only things that are in any way important for business to be effective; the underpinning of each and every other organization is laid with a dream of creating a greater number of gains than their partners. And, to dominate this race, the majority of them fail to remember the contrast among fair and unjustifiable arrangements. In any case, we JRS Pipes and Tubes are not one of such MS pipe Dealers, Unlike others, we follow business morals. This is what our clients like us for.

#pipes #tubes #steel pipe #mild steel #ms pipe #ms pipe dealers #construction #ms pipe wholesaler

[bhushanpipes]

Choosing the Right Billet Manufacturers in Punjab

Selecting a reliable billet manufacturer in Punjab is crucial for ensuring the quality and reliability of your products. In a region renowned for its thriving manufacturing sector, the choice of a billet supplier can significantly impact your production processes and end products. When evaluating potential manufacturers, consider their reputation and track record, adherence to quality standards and certifications, and manufacturing capabilities. Additionally, assess their material sourcing practices, technical support, pricing structure, flexibility in customization, and supply chain resilience. Environmental and sustainability practices are also important, reflecting a commitment to ethical operations and a greener future. Establishing a long-term partnership with a manufacturer like Vital Steel Bars, known for high-quality billets and customer satisfaction, can lead to mutual growth and success in the competitive industrial landscape of Punjab.

#mild steel hollow section #erw pipes #tubes manufacturer in punjab #pipes manufacturing #steel billets manufacturer in punjab #erw pipes manufacturer in punjab #erwpipes

[tritonalloysinc]

#S355J2+N Steel Pipes Stockist #BS EN 10210 Carbon S355J2 N Pipe #S355J2+N Hot Finish Welded Steel Pipe Suppliers In Mumbai #S355J2+N Circular Pipe Stock Holder #Carbon BS EN 10210 Structural Steel Tube #S355J2 N Steel Hollow Section Circular Pipe #S355J2 N Pipe Exporter #S355J2+N Structural Steel Pipe Manufacturer #S355J2+N Hot Finished Seamless Pipe Stockist #Mild Steel S355J2+N Pipe Supplier in Mumbai #S355J2+N Cold Formed Seamless Pipe Manufacturer in India.

[superdamachine86]

Big D Shaped Tube Fabricating Video (Semi-circle Tube)

#youtube #machine #metal #self circle #D shaped tube #120 wall tube #dom tubing #pre bent square tubing #mild steel tube suppliers nears me

[mvikasworld]

https://www.mvikas.in/indian-scrap-prices-rebound-as-steel-market-recovers

The Resilience of India's Scrap Industry: How Steel Market Recovery Boosts Prices This blog post discusses the recent rebound of Indian scrap prices and how the recovery of the steel market has played a crucial role in this upswing. The post highlights the resilience of India's scrap industry, which has overcome several challenges in recent years, including the pandemic-related disruptions. The article also analyzes the factors driving the steel market recovery and the impact it has had on the scrap industry, particularly in terms of pricing. The post concludes with a look at the future prospects of India's scrap industry and the opportunities that lie ahead for businesses in this sector.

#mild steel round bar #seamless steel pipe #stainless steel round bar #stainless steel tube #steel erw pipe #steel rod for construction

[mspsteels]

Steel fabrication is one of the most important pillars of the construction process. Therefore, you must be very careful when you look for a company to delegate this task to.

#Hot rolled steel manufacturers #cold rolled mild steel #hot rolled steel plate #cold rolled steel suppliers #cold rolled sheet metal #cold rolled steel tube #hot rolled steel round bar

[astpipes]

From the enduring resilience of mild steel tubes to the geometric precision of square and round pipes, steel components form a symphony in construction. Square tubes bring a touch of modernity, round pipes seamlessly support structures, and rectangular tubes contribute to geometric finesse. This harmonious blend, with each element playing a unique role, exemplifies the timeless legacy of steel in shaping the modern landscape of architecture and construction.

#Rectangular tube #Rectangular pipe #Steel pipe #Mild steel tubes #Ms pipe

[jrspipesandtubes]

Companies that supply us with pipes use qualified staff to keep a close eye on the construction of MS round pipe. The best outcomes are obtained when our suppliers take exceptional care of the pipes when manufacturing them from high-quality raw materials. The pipes are tested under the guidance of an experienced staff member to ensure that the customer will have a positive experience using the pipes and that they will not let them down in any challenging circumstances. Ex: High pressure, high temperatures, etc. These pipes are capable of handling any circumstance without causing the consumer to suffer losses.

#ms pipe #pipes #tube #mild steel #steel #round pipe

[bhushanpipes]

Choosing the Best Mild Steel Hollow Sections Manufacturer in Punjab

Selecting the right manufacturer for mild steel hollow sections in Punjab is crucial for ensuring the quality and reliability of your construction projects. With numerous options available, it's essential to focus on key factors to make an informed decision. Look for manufacturers with a reputation for producing high-quality products that meet industry standards and certifications. Evaluate their manufacturing capabilities, including advanced machinery and skilled personnel, to ensure precise and consistent production. Consider their ability to provide customized solutions tailored to your project requirements, along with reliable technical support and customer service. Additionally, prioritize manufacturers with a commitment to environmental sustainability and ethical practices. By choosing a trusted manufacturer like Vital Steel Bars, known for their excellence in quality, reliability, and customer satisfaction, you can confidently source mild steel hollow sections for your construction needs in Punjab.

#mild steel hollow section #erw pipes #tubes manufacturer in punjab #punjab #pipes manufacturing #steel billets manufacturer in punjab #erw pipes manufacturer in punjab #erwpipes

[jrspipessandtubes]

MS Pipe Dealers: Your Reliable JRS Pipes And Tubes Dealers

JRS Pipes And Tubes is a top supplier of MS Pipe Dealers. They offer a wide range of high-quality pipes that are perfect for various applications. With their dedication to quality and customer satisfaction, JRS Pipes And Tubes has established itself as a trusted name in the industry. If you're looking for reliable MS pipe dealers, JRS Pipes And Tubes is the way to go.

JRS Pipes And Tubes as MS Pipe Dealers

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MS Square Pipe Wholesaler

JRS Pipes is a leading supplier of MS pipes, including square pipes, offering a wide range of sizes and specifications. As an MS Square Pipe Wholesaler, JRS Pipes provides high-quality square pipes that are durable, versatile, and suitable for various applications in construction, fabrication, and other industries. Their square pipes are known for their strength, corrosion resistance, and easy weldability, making them ideal for structural and mechanical applications. JRS Pipes ensures that their square pipes meet stringent quality standards, making them a reliable choice for customers looking for quality MS pipes.

Seamless Pipe Dealer

JRS Pipes is a trusted supplier of seamless pipes, offering a wide range of sizes and specifications to meet the diverse needs of customers. As a Seamless Pipe Dealer, JRS Pipes provides high-quality seamless pipes that are known for their durability, precision engineering, and smooth surface finish. These pipes are ideal for applications where strength, reliability, and corrosion resistance are crucial, such as in the oil and gas, petrochemical, and automotive industries. JRS Pipes ensures that their seamless pipes meet international quality standards, making them a preferred choice for customers looking for seamless pipe solutions.

MS Rectangular Pipe

JRS Pipes is a reputable supplier of MS rectangular pipes, offering a variety of sizes and specifications to suit different needs. As a supplier of MS Rectangular Pipes, JRS Pipes provides high-quality pipes known for their durability, strength, and versatility. These pipes are widely used in construction, infrastructure, and fabrication projects due to their excellent weldability and formability. JRS Pipes ensures that their MS rectangular pipes meet stringent quality standards, making them a reliable choice for customers looking for quality MS pipes for their projects.

MS Pipe Dealers Near Me

JRS Pipes is a leading supplier of MS pipes, offering a wide range of products including MS Pipe Dealers Near Me in various shapes and sizes. As a reliable MS Pipe Dealer, JRS Pipes provides high-quality pipes that are known for their durability, strength, and versatility. Whether you need pipes for construction, infrastructure, or industrial applications, JRS Pipes has you covered with their extensive range of products. They are committed to providing excellent customer service and ensuring that their products meet the highest quality standards. If you're looking for MS pipes near you, JRS Pipes is a name you can trust.

Choosing JRS Pipes And Tubes comes with several benefits:

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Name: JRS Pipes And Tubes Phone No: 9643472264 Address: Plot No.19, Prakash Industrial Estate, Sahibabad, Uttar Pradesh - 201005 (INDIA) Twitter: https://twitter.com/JrsTubes Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jrspipesandtubesdealers GMB: MS Pipe Dealers Near Me

#business #construction #ms pipe #ms square pipe #ms round pipe #mild steel pipe #jrs pipes and tubes #steel pipe #square pipe #ms rectangular pipe #MS Pipe Dealers Near Me

[richajain11]

Mild steel tube

Mild Steel(MS) Square Hollow Sections (SHS, aka Square tubes) and Rectangular Hollow Sections (RHS, aka Rectangular tubes) are some of the most commonly used steel structural components in the industry. Both Square and rectangular tubes possess excellent strength-to-weight ratio and are therefore considered very versatile. Al Ittefaq Steel maintains tubes of both square and rectangular cross sections. For more information, visit: Mild steel tube

#Mild steel tube #Mild steel tube supplier #Mild steel tube manufacturer

[comfy-whumpee]

Lab Rat

Whumptober 7. Lab whump with extra dehumanisation and gore, this time!

-

There’s a taste in his mouth that he can’t get out.

The first experiment is simple. The muzzle is removed, and the body is fed water for the first time in days. It is helped to drink until it can drink no more, turning its head away from the feeding tube. Then, for the next twenty minutes, some mild acid forces the body to produce saliva, which is collected in test tubes on ice.

The body endures this placidly. It is cooperative with the cotton swabs placed inside its mouth. It holds still with its jaw wide, not needing to be forced. Maybe it is grateful to have been given water. Maybe it hopes, as the doctors do, that saliva will substitute blood in their treatments.

But the testing is done quickly and the results are clear. If there is power in the saliva, it is so diluted as to be useless.

And there’s a taste in his mouth that he can’t get out.

The second experiment is nails and hair. The body is unresponsive when the hair is trimmed. It looks to be sleeping, though nobody is sure whether it truly sleeps like humans do. It wakes up, as best they can tell, with no idea of what was done. But later that day, they trim its nails. The clippings are stored in another sample container and taken away for testing.

This is equally unimpressive. There was already significant doubt that such expendable parts of the body would contain anything of value. But it was proof of the previous experiment. Only things integral would be useful to gather.

And there’s a taste in his mouth that he can’t get out.

By the end of the week, Caroline has allowed another experiment, more invasive now there have been no ill effects from the others. The body still bleeds through the needle in its arm, and nothing else matters. So Caroline authorises a tissue sample.

The first one is small, just a scraping of dead skin from under their trimmed fingernails. The body barely responds to the dull shear on their fingers. The flakes are taken away in a petri dish.

Next is a slice of fresh skin. One hand is taken into a bowl of water to be thoroughly cleaned. This, unlike the rest, gets a response, tears leaking down its cheeks as if touched by the gesture. But it is done by uncaring hands, who only want to make sure the site of their sample is sterile.

Gloved hands press the knuckles flat on a rolling steel side table. Caroline does the incision herself, peeling back mere millimetres of skin with her sharpest scalpel. The blood, which cannot be wasted, is allowed to flow openly until it clots on its own. Caroline takes the sample off herself for immediate testing, while one of the acolyte doctors is responsible for soaking up every drop of blood.

Lachlan doesn’t know if the skin sample works or not. All he knows is that, the very next day, Caroline returns for more. As the body heals, and does not scar, she grows less and less worried that she will do something irreversible.

Kurt used to speak up. He is supposed to, if she risks permanent damage to the body, but he doesn’t say a word. He’s barely present anymore. He’s here because he was told to be here, and outside of working hours, he is gone.

Caroline stays. Caroline sharpens and sterilises her scalpels. She gathers her two favourite students, the brightest and most loyal. They cleanse the site of her next incision. She has chosen the thigh, and they make sure every strand of hair and speck of dirt is gone from the area she designs. No contaminants. Why stop at blood when flesh could yield better results?

The body knows it is coming already. Even as Caroline only prepares, it has clearly worked out the pattern. It keens in pain at the first touch of metal and doesn’t stop when it comes in earnest. She presses the scalpel into flesh, barely needing to push with as sharp as she has the blade. Blood wells up around it, and she cuts with confidence.

The body – Northlight – cries out through the muzzle, legs jerking and arms pulling at the restraints. The pain is audible in their voice. The tears flow from their eyes again, backwards down their face as their head is thrown back. Caroline is immune, extracting the gouged flesh and having it conveyed to be chilled and preserved for testing. One of her students is already stifling the bleeding. The other conveys the sample away.

Lachlan tries not to look at the blob of flesh on the tray, nor at the bleeding hole in Northlight’s leg. He looks at the body’s tormented expression, and tries not to listen to the whimpers low in its throat. It’s a sensible thing to do with the experiments, to build up like this. It makes sense. It’s scientific. The body was always going to respond like this. Simulating feelings. Like how trees bleed sap.

The…

Northlight cries in hopeless pain as the wound is tightly bandaged. Northlight shakes their head in plea when the doctor leaves. Northlight endures without painkillers, without even food. Northlight turns their eyes to him.

There’s a taste in Lachlan’s mouth that he can’t get out. Metallic and sour. He knows it can’t be real, but he can taste it all the same. He drinks it in his dreams and it makes him ache and shiver.

Every morning he goes to wash his face in the laboratory toilets, and he bares his teeth the mirror, to check them for sharper edges.

#whumptober2023 #lab whump #lab whumpee #fantasy whump #magical healing #vampire whump #gouging #my fic #whump #northlight #lachlan #caroline #dehumanisation #rehumanisation? #lab rat #alt.14 #gore

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 25

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: Vander is stressing the fuck out. Maybe a little giftie will calm his nerves. Katya dissociates like a champ.

CW: References to sexual assault, trauma responses, severe dissociation

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 5.8K

The weeks leading up to Snowdown were a complicated whirlwind for Vander.

One afternoon, Sevika had burst into the tavern, grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him to the back of the house. She hurriedly whispered about what had happened in the mines: that Silco and Katya had gotten into a fight with Kells. Kells severely injured Silco, and Katya had pushed Kells to his death. It seemed to be undecided whether that had been an accident.

Silco confirmed the events when Vander went to see him the next day. Enyd had tubed Vander, asking if he could come sit with her son while she was out.

Of course he would.

He was not at all prepared for what he saw when he arrived.

His Brother’s appearance made Vander’s stomach drop to his steel-toed boots. Vice-like fear and anger clamped down on his heart. His silver eyes flitted around Silco’s face. The bandage across his nose, the stitches in his lip, the angry bruises and welts that covered his face . . .

Vander hoped that Kells knew – where ever his retched soul had wandered off to – how lucky he was that he was already dead. Otherwise, Vander would’ve hunted him down. Would’ve used him as the body to break his gauntlets in on.

Silco peered up at his friend from his languid position on the couch. His eyes glacier blue slits between the purple swollen folds of their lids.

“Make sure he stays still and drinks water and eats. His food may need to be mashed up a bit. Keep the apartment dark,” Enyd said as she pulled her thick sweater on. She wrapped a scarf around her head, and drew it up over her nose.

Vander nodded, but struggled to take the information in. He hadn’t realized just how badly the fight had gone.

Once Enyd left, Vander rushed to Silco’s side. He fought not to take up his Brother’s long, elegant hands. Even under the calluses and near-permanent stains of dirt, anyone could see that those hands didn’t belong wielding a pick-axe. They belonged writing policies and demands for Zaun; they belonged in big important buildings, shaking other important hands.

Vander very much wanted to hold them.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he listened as Silco told him what had happened. The whole story – from his perspective. Vander’s stomach roiled nauseatingly at hearing what Kells had been caught doing to Katya. The curdle deepened as he watched Silco’s face contort under the swelling: barely restrained rage flickering beneath. Dangerous fire.

“A couple of the Children carried me to the clinic,” Silco explained, his usually smooth voice rough and nasally. “They said they would take care of the story. There’s been no fall-out?”

Vander shook his head. “Nothin’. An’ no one’s gonna say nothin’. Kells wazza cunt who got what he deserved.” A beat, and then he asked, “How’s Katya?”

Silco melted back into the couch. The gesture felt more defeated than relieved.

“She’s . . . She didn’t seem okay when I left the clinic yesterday. When she told me to leave.” Silco’s chin dipped, “I should’ve stayed with her.”

Vander’s gut twisted. “Well, yer mum’s with her now. She’ll be okay.”

When Silco didn’t say anything, when his expression remained distant and forlorn, Vander became fidgety and added, “Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sil. Kells is gone, n’ no one’s tryin’ to make a fuss about it. Here. Just lie back. I’ll make you a cuppa, yeah?”

In the days following, it really seemed like the whole thing would blow over. That this mild wrinkle within the Children’s ranks had already been ironed out. Until one evening, about a week after Kells’s death, a small group of three older teen boys approached Vander in the early hours of The Last Drop being open.

Their timing was purposeful; only a small handful of beleaguered and elderly Zaunites were peppered around the tavern. Men and women who didn’t want to be talked with or entertained. They only wanted the momentary peace a rocks glass or tankard could offer before they had to get home, go to bed, and live another day. It was a time during working hours Vander was more available.

It was a time there were fewer witnesses.

“We need to talk,” one had said. His upper lip quivered as he took in the man-mountain before him.

Vander’s eyes narrowed, and he peered over the group. His customers appeared at ease, so he jerked his head, instructing the young men to follow him. His instincts fizzed as they trailed behind. The hair on the back of his neck pricked up, his muscles coiled and braced.

Vander slid into one side of a shadowed booth. The others toddled in awkwardly with all the grace of new whumplings fighting for space in the nest, shoulders bumping and legs twisting together.

“What’dya need?” he asked once they were settled across from him.

His eyes cut from one face to the next. He recognized them as part of the gaggle that had orbited around Kells, but knew none by name.

“You heard about what happened in the mines a couple days ago,” the one on the right said. He was wiry with curly brown hair and pale skin. Dark green eyes blinked up at Vander under thick lashes.

Had his instincts not been priming his mind and body for some kind of fight, Vander would’ve thought him pretty.

“Aye. I have.”

“Well, what’re you gonna do about it?” The middle one demanded.

Vander’s nostrils lifted. This one had limp dark-blond hair, a pug nose, and too-round cheeks that were splotched angry-red.

“I wasn’ aware there was something to be done about it.”

“Silco killed Kells!” the one on the left hissed, his dark brown skin radiating vengeful heat. Black-brown eyes blistered beneath his thick, ebony hair.

Vander’s eyes flashed quick-silver. “He didn’.”

“He was going to if the medic he’s been eyeballin’ hadn’t’ve jumped in!” the middle one said, pig-nose flaring. “They probably planned it together.”

Vander shot up from his seat, knuckles hitting the table with a crack! as he braced his arms and loomed menacingly. The three young men collectively jumped, and hunkered back into the booth. The vinyl at their backs crackled as if in warning. Gone were their indignant expressions, replaced by utter shock and fear as they beheld the behemoth lording over them. Vander’s body and wrath blocked out the little light that reached into the booth’s alcove.

“Listen up,” he hissed, his voice all growl and warning grit. He bared his teeth at them and loomed closer. “Kells died ‘cause he made a stupid, evil decision” – it wasn’t his place to speak about Katya’s assault, so he kept it firmly tucked down his throat – “n’ he got what he deserved, frankly speakin’.” He leaned closer, broad shoulders hunching up threateningly like hackles on a beast, “This conversation is over. ‘N if I catch a whiff of any of ya tryin’ to rustle up more problems, you’ll be the first bodies I test my gauntlets on. Savvy?”

After a beat, all three reluctantly nodded and crawled out of the booth, scampering for the door.

Vander stalked back behind the bar rubbing his temples, mind spinning like a top.

It was one thing to fight with Topside. It was another for it to happen amongst the Children. The burgeoning rebellion wouldn’t withstand in-fighting. Zaun would bleed out, wouldn’t make it past its infancy, and be buried by Piltover again. The Children of Zaun needed to stick together, Brothers and Sisters arm-in-arm; an impenetrable wall of scrap metal, zeal, and will.

Then the threat he’d delivered to those three yellow-bellied malcontents . . .

“‘N if I catch a whiff of any of ya . . . .”

A wince creased Vander’s face. He didn’t suppose threatening Brothers and Sisters did anything for morale or loyalty. There was the chance that he had just made things worse. He shouldn’t have done that. He needed to keep his temper in check.

That was difficult when his Brother was concerned. Vander was protective of Silco, loyal to him – perhaps even more so than he was to Zaun. Although, Vander felt they were often one in the same. Yes, they had dreamed up the idea together, small and squatted behind minecarts, but Silco latched onto Zaun like it was air. Cleaner and purer than anything in Piltover. He had always led the charge from there on out. And Vander was at his side.

“Yer as loyal as a dog to ‘im, Van,” Benzo had said one night, long before the Children of Zaun.

He had said it with a certain amount of distaste that had Vander’s brow curling questioningly.

“He’s my best mate. ‘Course I am.”

Vander’s heart and shoulders softened at the memory. But immediately tensed again when he recalled what the blond teen had said.

“He was going to if the medic he’s eyeballin’ hadn’t’ve jumped in!”

Vander’s hand dropped heavy onto the bar top, gathering empty glasses and crumpled napkins. The comment had been innocuous, and utterly meaningless. The shithead had only meant to implicate Katya. But that little throw-away barb had slid under Vander’s ribs as if expertly laced.

“Oi! Vander!”

A customer in need of a refill pulled the barkeep from his head. Landed him right back into the moment like someone dropping a melon off Old Hungry. Grateful for the distraction, Vander went back to work.

Then time flew fast and the cold season fully settled over Piltover and Zaun, like a great, chilled blanket. The Lanes became smokier than normal, Zaunites reallocating what little funds they had to purchase wood and coal for their stoves. Less food, more heat; the pendulum of necessity ever swinging.

The Children kept meeting, kept preparing. A squad was set up to track Enforcer movements; where they had been, what their routes were, who they had spoken with and what answers they were given. Another group became designated runners for the supplies that pirates, independent merchants, and other morally grey characters smuggled in, and were paid with Airship coin.

Other members volunteered their homes and businesses to house the contraband: small armaments, scrap metal that would be smelted and repurposed, bottles of liquor too strong to drink but could be lit and chucked at Enforcers for when the time came.

However, the chill and impending holiday put a firm hold on both Piltover and the Undercity, stymying plans and regular schedules. On either side of the Pilt, families and businesses prepared for Snowdown, the holiday’s sentimental pull too strong for anyone or anything to fully deviate from it.

It went unspoken, but there was a sense in the Lanes – in Zaun – that this Snowdown was more poignant than those before. The holiday was about gathering, gratitude, and looking to the promise of the new year ahead.

The promise that this coming year would be the birth of their sovereign nation. Or, at least, the true beginning of the labor process.

This would also be the first Snowdown at The Last Drop Vander ran entirely alone. He’d more or less run it the year before, but the old proprietor – sick and dying – had been back in the living quarters, able to offer instructions and advice in that deep, throaty voice of his. Vander would take the wisdom with him back to the front and resume hosting duties.

But he was dead now.

The barkeep sighed as he cleared the taps for the busy night ahead, looking around at the bedecked tavern. The decorations were meager, but festive. Annie had festooned the pillars separating booths with garlands of colorful paper, dolloped the jukebox with a tangle of tinsel, and had put fresh candles on all the tables. Beckett suddenly appeared from the back; his strong, freckled arms loaded with extra stools.

Vander was grateful for the pair’s help. In the past weeks, Benzo had finally healed up enough to get back to his own business. Cairn stayed on to help at the pawnshop, instead of returning to The Drop. Benzo needed the extra pair of hands – his injury notwithstanding – and Cairn enjoyed the trade more than busing tables.

Vander certainly couldn’t blame him for that, and felt no ill-will toward the young man. Besides, now he had Annie to help. And while she was spacy, loud, and intense, she was good at her job and the customers loved her. Beckett was an added bonus; because where ever the dark bluenette went, he followed dutifully.

“Just put ‘em anywhere, Van?” Beckett asked, craning his head over the seats he carried.

“Yeah. Jus’ pepper ‘em ‘round the walls if ya would.”

As Beckett nodded and hauled the stools off, Annie burst through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, her thin arms laden with more candles. Great, fat pillars this time. Vander sighed, although the woeful sound did not impede the young woman’s trajectory toward the booths.

“Annie. I think we’ve enough candles.”

She began stacking them artfully on the booth tables. “Nuh-uh. Never. They create ambience.”

“Ambience and drunk people don’ mix,” Vander said, a hand rubbing at his forehead.

“It’ll be fiiiiiiiiine.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it, Van,” Beckett hushed as he carried the remaining stools over to the other side of the tavern.

Vander sighed, let it be, and continued prepping the bar’s stock.

A few hours later, The Last Drop was packed. Revelers young, old, and in-between stuffed the tavern to its gills. Most were members of the Children. Those that weren’t mingled with hope on their faces, intrigue glittering in their eyes like stars. The jukebox played on repeat, a long string of plucky, jovial tunes interspersed with the eager and happy chatter of the patrons. Ale and liquor flowed with abandon. Annie’s candles glowed and flickered invitingly. Vander had to admit that they did look beautiful. The soft, buttery glow of the flames brought a holy quality to the space. It inspired a bone-deep hope to flower in his chest.

Benzo and Cairn showed up about an hour after the bar opened for the night. The room burst into raucous cheers as Benzo threw up his meaty arms and greeted loudly, “BLESSED SNOWDOWN!”

Close behind the pair was Tolder and his brood, Sevika bringing up the end of the line. Once her younger siblings were inside, she whisked to the bar.

“Is Nasha here?”

“Haven’ seen her,” Vander answered filling a glass with caramel colored ale and handing it to a customer. “Bu’ she may be here n’ I haven’ noticed. Bit busy.”

“Yeah, just a bit,” she muttered, throwing her head around in search of the other girl. She smacked her palm against the bar top twice. “I’ll be back.”

Then she strode into the crowd, her head swiveling, eyes searching. A small smile crinkled the corners of Vander’s eyes as he watched her go. Then an empty tankard skittered across the bar and he fell back into work.

Sometime later, the crowd erupted again. Not as loud as when Benzo entered The Drop, but the swell of noise caused Vander to look up. His first full smile of the night spread across his face. Silco wove between tables, chairs, and customers, greeting people as he went with a small nod, or reserved wave.

“No Enyd?” Vander asked as Silco finally made it to the bar top.

His Brother’s lips thinned into a rueful, forced grin. He shook his head, dark hair fluttering about his face like curled shadows.

“No. She’s tired.”

The subtext of the message flicked at Vander’s heart with a mighty twang. Like it had been snapped with a rubber band.

She’s tired.

Her cough is especially bad. Has been bad. Is getting worse.

“What can I get ya?” Vander asked, hoping to distract Silco.

“Hmm? What?” Silco’s head – which had turned and was surveying the crowd – snapped back to Vander’s face. “Oh. Whisky. Please.”

Vander grinned and nodded. It was simple and quick, but preparing the two fingers of burnt amber liquor pleased him more than all the tankards of ale he had filled and refilled thus far. As he placed the glass in front of Silco, he was surprised to see a long, thin package on the counter between them.

“What’s this?”

“A Snowdown gift.”

Hot blush bloomed across Vander’s face. His heart swelled to the point of bursting. Then, honey-sweet hope once again dared to spread under his skin.

“Ya didn’ have to get me anything, Sil.”

Silco smirked and shrugged. “I wanted to.”

The blush on the back of Vander’s neck turned beet red as he sheepishly reached for the gift. It was wrapped in brown paper that had been crumpled and reused to the point of softness. Like thin suede.

Slowly, he peeled the wrapping away. A slender knife was settled in the worn curls and wrinkles of paper, its blade long with a gentle curve. There were a couple nicks in the metal that could be consider defects, but the worn appearance felt distinctly Zaun-ish to him. The handle was nearly half the length of the blade, wrapped in soft taupe-colored leather. The pommel was embossed with artful swoops.

Vander’s eyes roved over the knife, throat squeezing tight.

Then his gaze caught another detail: below the guard, on the first pleat of hide, the letter ‘V’ had been carved. The tightness gripping his throat intensified. Firelight wings beat and tickled his stomach to the point that Vander thought he might be sick with joy. Never before had he fought so hard to not reach for Silco, and draw him in close. To grab for his collar and pull him in for a kiss.

He refrained, though. Once again convincing himself that this wasn’t the time or place.

A small, love-hungry voice from deep inside cried out: “When will be the right time?!”

Not now.

Soon.

Hopefully.

Please.

Carefully tempering his expression in to one of bridled gratitude, Vander looked back up at Silco. His Brother eyed him with that smarmy, cocky half-grin and lifted eyebrow. Vander’s finger pads dug into the bar top to keep his hands from reaching out and grabbing for him. Everyday, it got harder and harder to do that.

Instead, he reached for the package and drew it closer.

“Ya didn’ hafta do that, Sil,” he murmured appreciatively.

“For when your fists get tired of beating Enforcers.”

An amused huff blew from Vander’s nose. “Thank you. I love it.”

Silco inclined his head, and lifted his glass to Vander. “Happy Snowdown, Brother. Next year may we be celebrating in a free nation.”

The weeks leading up to Snowdown were a heart-straining, soul-sickening series of days for Katya.

The third day after her assault, another gut-wrenching meltdown pulled her under. She couldn’t decide, in retrospect, if she had been grateful that Enyd was there, or if she wished she could’ve crumpled in private.

She had been standing at the kitchen sink, washing a cup. Enyd was gathering their lunch dishes from the table. Suddenly, Katya’s mind played an incredibly cruel prank on her: a phantom pressure at the crux of her thighs. Where Kells had groped her. She started with a gasp; eyes peeled wide. The cup fell from her hands as her legs buckled, and she tumbled to the cracked linoleum floor.

Blood rushed in her ears.

It kept her from hearing the wail that ripped from her throat.

At once, Enyd was at her side, drawing her close. Despite being so petite, she enveloped the young woman in a way only a mother could, all love and comfort. She spoke, lips and jaw moving against Katya’s temple, but the sound couldn’t penetrate the rush of blood in her ears. Nor the pummeling realization that ghostly sensation had brought her.

“I killed him. I killed him. I killed him – “

“Shhhh . . . Breathe, Katya. Breathe – “

“I killed . . . I killed him. I didn’t mean – “

A wail ripped itself from the base of Katya’s throat. She hadn’t meant to kill Kells; just to get him off of Silco. She didn’t know if her memory was playing tricks on her, but now the scene that played in her head contorted Kells’s face into one of abject fear as he tumbled over the turbine’s edge, limbs scrabbling for help.

But she hadn’t helped.

She had pushed.

Then watched.

Despite how vilely he had treated her, she had been unprepared to punish him with such finality. Dread and shame cemented in her arms and legs. The weight making it impossible to escape from the scenario playing over and over again in her head.

Sevika had said he had had no family. That there would be no trouble for her.

No trouble from the outside world, perhaps. But her insides roiled with it. Tentacles of humiliation slithering in her veins. Regret stabbing at her like claws.

“Katya. Katya. Look at me.”

With more force than the mother probably wanted to use, Enyd gripped Katya’s jaw between her fingers, jerking her head to the side so their eyes could connect. Spit, snot, and tears dripped over Enyd’s strong hold.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Katya. It was an accident. None of it was your fault. Do you hear me?”

Katya sniffled and trembled between the claw-grip. Her lips blubbered, an attempt to insist Enyd was wrong on the tip of her sob-thickened tongue.

Whip-fast, Enyd’s hand curled around the back of Katya’s head and tucked the young woman in closer.

“I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it. It’s not your fault. None of it.”

Katya did not know how long they stayed, curled up on the floor. She didn’t remember moving, but when her conscious mind turned back on, she found herself back on the couch, blanket tucked around her. Enyd sat at the far end, a sewing project in her lap.

Katya’s insides felt like sludge. Her throat burning from having been screamed raw. She turned her head against the couch cushion, eyes falling onto the accordion-style laundry rack Enyd had hauled with her that day. It was broken – one side’s legs having to be placed very carefully, as the bracing brackets had broken off – but it worked. Just like Enyd had promised.

She closed her eyes. At some point the couch shifted as Enyd rose. Then there was the soft press of lips to her temple, a loving murmur in her ear. When next Katya opened her eyes, Enyd was gone.

She went back to work the next day. Unwilling to keep eating up Enyd’s time. Hoping that the monotonous tasks of the clinic would dull the edges of the past few days.

Will pestered her when she appeared. Asked if she was okay. What had happened. Said that he was going to put in a formal complaint against Silco.

“Don’t do that,” Katya snapped harshly. “He didn’t do anything. It wasn’t him. I will be fine. Leave it.”

Will’s shoulders slumped, but he made the wise choice to not argue with her further.

As he wrapped his ratty coat around him, he said, “I finished stocking the supplies. I didn’t know why you had put some off to the side, but I put them with the rest of the inventory. Hope that’s okay.”

Katya stilled.

Right. Before she had gone to Fissure 27 – she swallowed down the bile gathering at the base of her throat – she had put a few items aside to stock for the Children and Enyd. She’d forgotten about it.

“Yes. That is fine. Thank you, Will.”

As that first day back slogged along, Katya kept looking at the clinic door. She didn’t know if she was wishing Silco would step through, or not. Part of her hoped he was still home.

She saw him next when she dropped off a bottle of medicine for Enyd.

Her heart made a home in her throat as she approached their apartment. The same mighty war raged within her as she knocked on the door: she craved to see Silco, then inexplicable shame would swoop in and fell that desire.

She shouldn’t expect his company, his companionship. She couldn’t pay the cost. Didn’t deserve it. Regardless of how much she may want it.

Agonizing relief sluiced over her bones when Enyd answered.

“Medicine,” Katya whispered by way of greeting. Reaching into her coat, she produced the larger bottle of decongestant. “Use the dropper from the smaller bottle. You could start taking an extra dose in the morning right now, since the cold weather makes your symptoms worse – “

“Katya,” Enyd crooned, taking the bottle and bringing a hand up to the young woman’s cheek. There was a pause, and she said, “Why don’t you come in?”

Katya shook her head, taking a step back. She flashed what she hoped was a grateful, but apologetic, smile.

“I cannot, unfortunately. I’m on my way to pick up Viktor – “

“Mum? Who’s at the door?”

Katya choked as her heart beat wildly in her throat. Her muscles tensed as they tried to decide whether bolting or freezing was the best option.

Then Silco appeared behind Enyd’s shoulder. He looked better than he had on her exam table. Bruising and swelling still puffed and discolored his eyelids and cheekbones, but it had since gone down. The bandage on his nose was gone, but the stitching on his lip stayed in place.

Katya’s throat wound tight. She was so happy, so relieved to see him. His presence a soothing balm to her scraped up heart and psyche. Yet, her boots remained rooted.

“Kat,” Silco said in a tone that danced between relief and excitement.

“I was just dropping off medicine for Enyd. I can’t stay. I need to pick up Viktor,” she robotically repeated.

The thick soles of her shoes shuffled against the floorboards, preparing her exit. Despite her leg’s attempts to walk away, her head and shoulders stayed facing the doorway. Her eyes glued to Silco’s.

She wanted to stay.

Wanted to talk with him.

Wanted to be with him.

Wanted him.

But she couldn’t. Shouldn’t. For reasons her trauma-addled brain couldn’t supply. Despite their lack of discernible motives, those thoughts won out.

“I need to go,” she said, and finally allowed her legs to carry her away. “See you both later.”

Like most of her movements of late, Katya didn’t remember getting to Piltover. The weight of the rucksack in her hand was the only thing that pulled her back online for a moment. She blinked. Her eyes fell on the worn canvas handle in her palm. She blinked, and then her eyes looked over and found Viktor. He looked back, open worry and confusion covering his face.

“What is wrong?” Viktor whispered to her when they took their seat in the conveyor car.

Katya pulled her lips into a reassuring smile. “Nothing. I am just tired. Long week, and I think I’m coming down with a small cold.”

The weekend past. On Monday, Katya took Viktor back to school.

The week past, too. A sludgy slog of colors and events that bled one into the next. Silco tried visiting Katya in the clinic, but she busied herself when he did. He stood dutifully near her during the Children’s meeting. His arms wrapped tight across his chest; fingers firmly tucked underneath his biceps.

Perhaps he was cross with her.

He should be, she figured.

Katya didn’t recall the meeting. Something about new supplies and updates on Enforcer activity.

She was, however, aware of the glances shot her way. The bitter, suspicious glares of Kells’s group of peers. Vander’s empathetic stare. He added a nod to it when she finally glanced in his direction.

Unwilling to linger, she slipped out just before the meeting ended; her bootheels a quick, snappy tap on the cobblestones.

“Kat.”

She froze, shoulders pitched up to her ears. This wasn’t the dream, but that call sparked the memory of it. Silco had called her then. Silco called for her now.

Slowly, Katya spun around, forcibly lowering her shoulders as she went. He wasn’t smiling like he had been in the dream. His face – which had become clearer in the passing days – was etched in an expression of deep concern.

In the dream, he had joyfully approached her. Now, he cautiously stepped forward. Like she was a wounded animal he didn’t want to spook.

She saw in his eyes that he wanted to say something.

“Can I walk you home?”

Yes. Yes, please.

“No, thank you. I can manage.” She gave him the same grin she’d given her brother, and turned on her heel.

“Kat.”

She stopped again. An unseen fist squeezing at her heart.

In the dream, the second time he had called, he’d come close. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. Now, Katya turned and watched him take a couple more steps.

“It is fine, Silco. Really.”

His footsteps stopped, the toes of his boots awkwardly scraping against the street. She heard the gulp he took, watched the way his hands flexed.

“Alright then. Get home safe.”

“Of course.”

Her legs carried her away. Something inside her wailed and begged to go back. It was promptly swallowed up by that beast that couldn’t stand the risk.

The weekend arrived, and Viktor came home. It past, and he went back to school.

Silco stood on Katya’s periphery all week. He would still stop by the clinic to check on her. He stood by her during meetings. But said very little, and Katya became acutely aware of how much she loved his voice.

Another weekend.

Another week.

Now, Katya sat on her couch. Her blanket cocooned her, as it had these past weeks. A great, fluffy shell that wrapped around her shoulders and haloed her head. The apartment’s light was dim. The air was quiet – save for the occasional clanks and hisses of the radiator. Despite it being the eve of Snowdown, she heard no celebrating outside her windows or door. There never was this deep in the Sump.

This year, the holiday had fallen in the middle of the week. Viktor was across the river. No doubt as lonely as she was.

She knew The Last Drop hosted a gathering for the holiday. It had for years. Even when her Papa had been a boy. Anyone who traipsed through the door was invited. She knew the Children would be there: Sevika and her siblings, Nasha, Benzo, Cairn, Annie, Beckett. Silco.

A vicious ache clanged through her. A yawning, angry emptiness that begged to be addressed.

But like when Silco had come after her that night to walk her home, the yearning was quickly gnashed between the pointed teeth of that same oily beast. Powerful, but slippery. Like it didn’t want to be looked at too closely. It simply wanted to swoop in, gobble up ridiculous things like desire, and retreat back to the shadows with little examination.

Just as the beast was about to recoil back into the vacuous recesses of Katya’s chest cavity, the yearning gave a mad thrash between its jaws. A powerful snap that threatened to crack the teeth that held it.

Katya’s heart swelled and lurched at the sensation. Sitting up straighter, she put a hand to her chest and pressed, as if that would dissuade any further tantruming from within.

The yearning jerked again, alive and insistent against the hold of its captor.

‘Go,’ it seemed to say as it attempted to pull itself from the serrated mouth that held it. ‘Go.’

A watery gasp blew from Katya’s mouth, and one of her feet dropped from the couch onto the floor. The movement, while not purposeful, finally caused the shadowy monster to scramble for a better hold. It braced itself against the cage of her ribs.

‘Don’t go,’ it hissed through a clenched jaw. ‘Don’t go.’

Katya blinked. Her shoulders dropped, as did her other foot.

Fear. That was the desire-eating thing. She knew it well. It had dictated most of her life until recently. Had kept her in-line until recently. Since her time with the Children – of feeling like she belonged to something, of feeling like she wanted something more – it had been skirted to the sidelines. Present, but not commanding. Kells, and what he had done to her had pushed it back onto the field, its stamina and intensity renewed from the break it had received.

Katya scooted to the edge of the couch, blanket dropping from her shoulders and gathering at her hips like soft folds of cumulus clouds.

That isn’t what she wanted. To let her desires decay and blow away in the wind. To let fear, Piltover, or anything else stomp out the inherent, wild value she had just begun to believe in.

The silvery slip of Desire caught in Fear’s jaws wriggled and thrashed excitedly. Fear strained, its claws losing purchase on her rib bones.

She wanted, she decided. She wanted to believe in her value, her worthiness.

Desire surged forward, most of its amorphous body slipping from Fear’s too-rigid teeth.

She wanted to trust in Zaun’s ability to pull itself out of the proverbial hole Piltover had made it dig for itself.

Desire whipped and twisted. Fear’s bite began to tire and give.

Katya stood and the blanket drooped to the floor. She wanted the same for herself.

With a final snap of its slender body, Desire broke free and gushed forward; just like how Katya’s feet strode for the door. Fear whimpered, empty jaws chattering, as it recoiled back.

Katya shoved her feet into her boots, grabbed her coat from its peg, and burst out the door.

Her legs moved so swiftly that it felt like she was gliding, flying through the Sump and up into the Entresol. She wove around Snowdown revelers and underneath twinkling chem-bulbs single-mindedly, quick and swift as a canary.

It didn’t take long for The Last Drop to erupt in front of her, all merriment, togetherness, and neon green lights. Her heart thundered, and Desire serpentined inside her belly. Fists squeezing in her coat pockets, Katya surged forward.

As she anticipated, The Drop was packed, the patrons – Children and others alike – wonderfully happy in each other’s company. A few people raised glasses to her as she stepped inside, and she offered them careful smiles.

Over in a booth decorated with a ridiculous number of candles, Sevika beamed at her, and threw an arm up in greeting. Nasha was slung over her lap, preventing her from getting up. She gave Katya her own wave, and returned her attention back to twirling Sevika’s hair between her fingers.

Katya craned her head over the crowd as she shuffled closer toward the bar. Vander’s massive form flitted behind the countertop with grace that belied his stature. His face was ruddy with happiness as he addressed his customers.

Her eyes traveled down the long bar.

Looking.

Searching.

Her heart stuttered at the sight of Silco. Desire sang a song she’d never heard before.

He held a drink in his hand, his gaze cool and aloof as it traveled around the tavern. Then, like a homing missile, his eyes finally found hers.

Blue met gold.

Notes: AHHHHH!!!!!! Guys. Guys. THINGS are gonna happen in the next chapter. This slow burn is gonna pay off! EEEEE! I hope you enjoyed this piney-pining chapter!

Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear yout thoughts in the comments or reblogs ❤️

Coming Up Next: Katya asks Silco to show her Zaun again.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 @dreamyonahill @sand-sea-and-fable @truthandadare @altered-delta

#children of zaun #coz #arcane #arcane fanfic #vander #young vander #silco #young silco #benzo #young benzo #sevika #young sevika #viktor #young viktor #original characters #silco x oc #silco x katya #silkat

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

• Ken Miles was born on November 1st of 1918 in Sutton Coldfield, England. During his early life he apprenticed at a British car manufacturer. During World War II, he worked in various duties that dealt with machinery and utilized his mechanical skills. He began motorcycle racing while in the service and this would continue after his tour. After World War II, he returned to the automobile industry and to automotive racing. He acquired a Frazer-Nash racer and installed a Ford V8-60 engine. It had mile success in local and club competition.

• In 1952 Ken Miles came to the United States where he accepted a position as service manager for an MG distributor in California. Later, he would became involved with a wide range of teams and races and have a profound influence on early American road racing. His skills as a driver and fabricator quickly evolved and he became legendary on the West Coast with his competitive Specials.

• Miles first racer (that he constructed) was in 1953, while working for Gough Industries. He had been racing MG TD's for Gough, but they were often outclassed by the competition. Gough helped Miles with creating a racer, though he was unable to provide cash. What Gough did provide was use of any MG or Morris and any stock spare part.

• Miles began work on the MG R-1. The frame was created from mild steel tubing and attached to MG Series "Y" independent front suspension. The rear was comprised of a live axle. Alfin aluminum drum brakes with two-wheel cylinders were used to provide the stopping power while a Morris Minor rack-and-pinion kept the vehicle in the drivers control.

• Under the hood was an experimental racing engine that had a 1466cc displacement size. The engine would later be used by MG for their MG TF 1500. The engine had twin SU carburetors and a 10.5:1 initial compression ratio. The compression ratio was later increased to 11.6:1. The 83 horsepower engine was mated to a stock MG TD transmission which sent the power to the rear wheels.

• The car was clothed in a hand-formed aluminum body. The overall weight of the vehicle was less than 1,230 pounds. The car made its inaugural appearance in 1953 at a rainy Pebble Beach. The car had not been tested but this did not seem to matter, as it emerged victorious. Throughout the next year, the car would win all of the races it was entered, except for two. Its racing career came to an end in 1954 at Pebble Beach, when it suffered mechanical difficulties and failed to finish the race. The flywheel bolts fractures which allowed the flywheel to come loose. This resulted in the engine over-revving and it threw a rod. The R-1 Miles Special's racing career had come to an end.

• The second Miles Special racer was constructed in similar fashion to the first, but incorporated many key mechanical and design changes. Many MG components were still utilized, such as the gearbox and 1466cc MG XPEG engine. The space frame chassis was constructed from one-inch steel tubing which was lighter than its predecessor, but still retained the structural rigidity. To reduce frontal area, the driving position was lowered by nearly four inches. Other techniques were used to reduce the frontal area. The engine was tilted down in the front which did much to achieve this goal.

• The car was narrow and low, which meant changes were needed to fit all the engine components in the engine bay. The MG intake manifolds were installed upside down which allowed the carburetors to be angled and fit under the hood. The design of the vehicle was similar to the MG TF. This was done for brand recognition and to help promote the MG line of vehicles. There were differences; the R-2 had an envelope body with fenders that flared up, and over, the front and rear wheels. In the front was an MG style grille with headlights on either side. The car was finished in British racing green.

• The car was given the nickname, the Flying Shingle. Its inaugural race was in 1955 at Willow Springs. It failed to finish the race. Many of the other races in which it entered, it emerged victorious. Among its accomplishments were first place finishes at Pebble Beach and Torrey Pines. Miles was doing well in small-bore racing, but the competition was consistently keeping pace. Soon, a new machine was needed.

• Miles acceptable a position at Johnny Von Neumann's Porsche dealership. He raced during the 1956 season in a Porsche 550 Spyder and began work on a new racing Special. With von Neumann providing a generous budget, and Porsche providing ample stock components, Miles was able to construct a proper, large-budget racer. Power came from a Porsche Carrera four-cam engine that displaced 1500cc. The chassis was a Cooper Bobtail with a modified nose. The suspension was an independent setup with drums in the front and rear. The body shell was constructed of aluminum which aided greatly in the vehicles low weight of just under 950 pounds.

• Near the close of 1956, the newly created Special was brought to Pomona where it was piloted by Miles to a second place finish. At Paramount Ranch, the car was driven to a class win in the 1500cc class, and beat-out the big-bore modified class as well. The car was raced in 1956 and for part of 1957 before the von Neumann dealership was given the break they had been desperately searching for - a Porsche 550A. The car was supplied from the factory with orders to sell the R-3 Pooper Special. The R-1, R-2, and R-3 are still in existence in modern times. They are used in vintage competition and are shown at events.

• Ken Miles life came to a tragic end on August 17th, 1966 while driving a Ford J-car prototype. The car was traveling at 175 mph on a back-strech. Ken began preparing for a corner, slowing the vehicle down, but it went out of control and over an embankment. Ken was thrown from the car as it spun and went end-over-end. This tragedy brought an end to a brilliant career that began during the very early 1950s.