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bakurapika · 2 months

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aight 1984 thoughts, scattered, since i don't want to overwhelm my groupchat about them

it's a lil difficult to tell when something is geniunely intended by the author vs when it isn't. because winston isn't necessarily an "unreliable" ( limited 3rd person pov) narrator, but he's written as having grown up with severe psychological conditioning.

specifically im thinking of like. 1) his convo with the old man. which was the only time i really wanted to reach through the pages of the book and grab winston by the shoulders and shake him. the old man was giving him so much useful info despite winston's uniform making him a super threatening person to talk to. but winston's prejudice about the proles being stupid - and honestly probably just him being trained in uncritical thinking - made him unable to hear the words behind the words.

and without trawling wikipedia for context from the book (i'm unsure what decade it was written in! because some of its description of the world wars are spot on but other parts feel speculative fic. which makes me think it was written like A Long Time Ago, like after ww1 started but not ww2, since it called them "the great wars," but got a lot unfortunately right? and i want to finish reading it before checking [audio book so i'm not just flipping to the cover page]), im not sure if that situation was supposed to be both aggravating and tragic to the reader or not.

i don't actually remember how the book ends! ive read it before but like hm. when i was a teen i stopped during the sex scene because oh no ew sex evil sinful, and yes i realize the sad irony in that. And I know I read it as an adult at least up to the room 101 bit where i am now, but i'm very fuzzy about it.

listening to it as an audio book did wonders for me reading and understanding the manifesto, which VERY MUCH feels like it was written by the author, who realized it didn't have the context to be emotionally meaningful, and then wrote a book around it. and if that's the case it was a damn good choice btw. but i think i skimmed or outright skipped it when reading previously because it's pretty fucking dense as text!! but listening to it as audio was like "HOOOOLY SHIT"

but!!!!! that is another point of potential unreliability!!! where winston started reading it and reflected to himself that it was great as a book, not because it was teaching him new ideas, but because it repackaged the ideas he already had in a more systematized way. and the context of the manifesto existing, who gave it to him and why, brings everything about it into question.

which so far imo is a really masterful way of forcing readers to think critically as long as they're willing to engage with the text that much. because you read/listen to the manifesto and think "wow! this is groundbreaking stuff! this guy knows so much!" but then you have to go, "hold on. even IN FICTION this was written to appeal to emotion instead of reasoning. and it DIDN'T HELP anyone." (again at the point in the book where i am, and i don't remember what happens beyond that point)

i was gonna disclaim about politics on main but that's literally what the book is, so here's my opinion on marxism, which i admit im not super educated in - that was also a manifesto making excellent points about how to think about power and the world. and the strength of its ideas has carried it. but the context of who wrote it and why involved some... im trying to think of more polite/diplomatic words. very off base predictions about the near future that didn't come to fruition, not as a side note but as the reason why the whole damn thing was written. again to my limited understanding. which makes relying on the communist manifesto as a foundational text really questionable.

The Book in 1984 feels the same way to me. like im trying to parse it critically and find flaws, instead of appreciating it for what it got right. i think the main Big Issue is the sweeping generalities it makes. it wouldn't exist without that - sweeping away individual cultural differences in order to focus on the nature of post-industrial national power. but the world is complicated and complex in a way that does make the Book seem more suited to fiction as a thought experiment than reality.

im critiquing how this works as if from the pov of the evil dudes who set up the system btw, because their self-interest is why the system described in the Book exists

secondly, a major flaw is the lack of room for assholes. by which i mean that, in this system where the inner party at least holds a lot of control distributed amongst themselves, there is going to have to be someone trying to solve the prisoner dilemma. there are going to be people who do stupid shit, even to their own detriment. with all the psychological tests and ways to limit who can get into the inner party, none of them can really entirely guard against humans being humans. and with such a precise worldwide machine, it seems like one minor problem might fuck the whole thing up. and to clarify, i mean assholes as in, yeah you're doing evil world controlling nonsense. but one of your coworkers is doing the evil world controlling nonsense very wrong because he spaced out during world nonsense school.

and on that note, the requirement for a very rigid standard of psychological normalcy in both the inner and outer party. again in fiction, it's great. but the party has spent a huge amount of resources on each person in the party. to continually unalive people (in a literal sense, beyond just murder lol) is kind of crazy. the work they do - in winston's department anyway - is ridiculously specialized. there's a lot of intentional redundancy but you can only get away with that for so long if you keep offing people. it seems really short-sighted, although it makes sense in-universe that the regime has only been around for a few decades.

part of the same point is also that ... literally no one can hold up to the standards of the party, as described. is anyone going to be perfectly psychologically average in every single way. no, but shit like being suspected of talking in your sleep is enough to get you disappeared. so that implies more of a system of discrimination (who gets the unspoken rules enforced against them and who doesn't, if everyone breaks them at some point?) than the Book allows for

again though i'm picking at crumbs to try to do what the novel implicitly is asking me to do, not because i think the Book sucks. the thesis of war being perpetuated specifically for the sake of preventing people from access to equal resources is sooo loud and relevant, as is the horrific depiction of bombings being a normal part of life (for people in eg Palestine, not in London like winston is). some of the Book is just ridiculously incisive about modern politics and nationalism

the tactic of relying on secret knowledge - including that big drumroll build-up that made me genuinely think it was going to be an asspull, which it was, lol - is contrary to the presumed reason for the book's existence. as is the claim that it was written by goldstein, who used to be a big fucking proponent of ingsoc. (side note, so far all the commentary on racism incl antisemitism, despite/because of using words that would be offensive today of course, has all been pretty spot on so far. it'd be so easy to make the thing an antisemitic rant about cabals, but all the racism is in character/universe with very specific and obvious motivations that make it seem like an excuse for hatred)

but i'm disappointed (again, feels like the author intended this) in winston for uncritically swallowing a doctrine he knew almost nothing about just because it was the alternative to the one he knew and hated. happily signed away all his rights in a way that was very jarring. the way o'brien treated julia - pretty sexist but lowkey - felt like intentional foreshadowing too.

i feel like calling this book ahead of its time would be a devastating blow to whatever rhetorical point it tried to achieve though lol.

that's not everything i want to say but i think it's most everything i had a burning need to say :P

oh wait ! edit ! i'm surprised so far at the willingness to chuck winston into torture. it feels like the book is about the threat of constant surveillance and the unknown of extrajudicial punishment from within your own national/political sphere. and in that case, the choice to go into detail about torture seems to break the suspense and make the whole thing feel more like an adventure story than a metaphor. as much as i'm enjoying the psychological fuckery going on in room 101, it was a very bold choice that may be to the story's detriment. the reason i don't remember this section is probably because it's not nearly as well known or memorable as Big Brother Is Watching You.

because if winston dies at the end of this, then in terms of the real-world affect on the reader, that feels like... so what? dude grew up in a dystopia, said to himself "im gonna die because of this dystopia," then died because of the dystopia. and if winston doesn't die, then the threat of - okay wait i just had a jimmy neutron brain blast memory i'll write about in a sec - but the threat of ingsoc is really diminished. it's no longer about fear as a control tactic but the threat of violence. which may seem like a quibble but when the entire power of big brother is about vague fear and not specific fear, that's a big fucking deal.

anyway my brain blast. i THINK i remember how it ends. i think they let winston go, because i think i remember a scene of him getting coffee at a cafe. and like it's chill but also he knows he's gonna get offed at some point in the future. and then some kind of callback to the 3 dudes in the photo that he threw in the memory hole.

but all that feels like it makes my point, if that's true, because i didn't remember it. because that turns the book into a work of fiction instead of a poignant metaphor. which isn't bad on its own but does feel like it emotionally betrays the point of the rest of the book.

i'm not saying that the story shouldn't have been written. it... hmm. it feels more like it would work as a sequel that people could take or leave. but the point of the original novel feels like it could have ended, not at confirmation that the thought police were around every corner. but just enough evidence to suspect it and to think that winston is about to get caught. but leave the reader in suspense about it.

because yeah, the scooby doo thing about everyone winston ever talked to pulling off a wig and being an evil CEO the whole time was kind of a let-down. like oh! it wasn't about control via paranoia that everyone he knows might be evil! it was just that every person he knows was evil.

(im using evil in a tongue-in-cheek way to descrbe them doing bad shit to winston while knowing im oversimplifying, since winston as an outer party member also did plenty of bad shit.)

edit 2- i forgot but remembered something else i wanted to say!!!

1- winston's emphasis on eyes. like i don't have anything to say about it except "hey! a recurring theme! neat." his mom's eyes, his sister's eyes, big brother's eyes. his first thing about julia is that he doesn't remember her eye color.

2- neat and interesting portrayal of the romance between winston and julia. it's not a romance for the ages no matter what they think. it's a circumstantial coupling. a lot of their deep personal traits don't actually mesh well. and im not saying that as a criticism of the relationship but a praise of it.

the generation gap is a cool method of storytelling and worldbuilding, with julia's disinterest in politics even though it's something so interesting to winston.

something i HAVEN'T wrapped my mind around, and im inclined to chalk up to the time the story was written, was how julia was supposedly with dozens of men before and winston was super into it. so you're set up to think of this as a sexual fling. but then it becomes a monogamous relationship without any kind of question or resistance, as if that's the natural next step. julia never even mentions that she's stopped sleeping with other men even though it seems like that's a huge shake-up for her. it felt like a very odd choice that was maybe betraying julia's motivations in order to develop winston's story. again, not odd for the time, but it feels like a genuine flaw that the author didn't consider? especially since it could have been fixed with like a single line of julia being like "babe we have this deep connection i don't have with other dilfs"

3- this is something i didn't realize until this read-through. i thought i'd remembered something weird about how winston's dreams seem to have genuine metaphysical power in a way that doesn't jive with the rest of the book. yeah he experiences memories and character growth, which is normal. but him anticipating "the place where there is no darkness," which o'brien recognizes as legit, was VERY weird.

but!!!!! now reading that and knowing about o'brien's betrayal, o'brien was clearly just yes-anding! he was like oh yeah that's definitely a revolution phrase we say all the time. good job winston. and that itself was foreshadowing lol

edit 3 - no need to flood my dash with these thoughts on a no-note post so i'll just keep editing. haven't read more yet. but uhhh

so the idea of the inner party as presented by the Book is that it's not a like genetic oligarchy; it's not passed down via family lineage. it's intended to survive longer than that based on the strength of its ideas (it's compared to Catholicism in that respect).

but the political foundations are that the upper class are trying to escape the cycle of revolution (in which lower+middle classes band together, overthrow the upper class, and old middle class becomes upper class). not for the sake of political stability itself but in order to keep the same upper class in power. ingsoc ideology was essentially created (according to the Book) for the sake of this goal

however, new inner party members are recruited based on skill. so the only thing tying old inner party members to the new one... is their loyalty to ingsoc.

it doesn't really make sense. im not even saying that because i think it's a criticism of the fictional device because honestly... self-perpetuating nonsense cycles are what the world runs on. but it does make the inner party members' motivations a lot more iffy unless the Book is hiding something or missing something

#1984

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importanttigercreation · 1 year

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#IFTTT #YouTube

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steelfile83 · 2 years

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vanaera · 4 years

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𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝟎𝟏 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

Synopsis: A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Characters: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre/AU: Sci-fi, mystery, angst, action, romance (cop!JK x artist!you), based on the movie Minority Report

Wordcount: 11k

Warnings: Dark themes and implied smut (in future chapters); heavy descriptions of a hit-and-run; mentions of blood from injuries and violent crimes (PG-16 Rating)

A/N | This fic is for @btswritingcafe’s Map of The Soul Workshop!

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

The pavement was cold beneath his cheek. The gravel, sharp, and the smell of the after-rain, acrid. Jungkook peels his eyes open. They hang too heavy and the task seemed almost a century-worth effort. However, he’s glad he got his lids up because he could now see what’s in front of him. His right foot is stuck underneath the pedal. The windshield was broken, the spiderweb of glass fragments racing from the right corner. When he looks to his left, the car window is shattered. The car was toppled over. The pungent smell of gas is filling his nostrils. Something feels wet on his head. He raises his hand to his temple. When he pulls it away, there’s a scarlet smear on his palm. He’s bleeding.

Jungkook pulls the seatbelt free. He falls further into the ceiling of the car, grunting from the metal appendages poking into his shoulder. He pulls his torso up and starts to make his way out. His joints were screaming and Jungkook could feel his ligaments were tearing apart. His right arm is numb even if there are huge glass shards impaled in his skin. But Jungkook keeps on, dragging his skin across the sharp gravelly road. One after another, he elbows his way away from the wrecked-down car seat. But his upper limbs were not enough to pull his foot free from the crushed console. Jungkook grunts.

And then, there’s a siren.

Jungkook turns to his left. Tires screech on the rough road. A blue sedan swivels and parks right in front of him. Lights sweep on the ground. Jungkook feels it’s similar to the lights that are being reflected by the broken windshield. He couldn’t see much but he feels he’s being blinded.

The car door slams shut. A figure is moving towards him. Jungkook squints his eyes but he cannot see any face. The blood running down his temple must have streamed down to his pupils. All he sees right now is red.

Loose gravels crunch under leather soles. The figure hovers above him. And then Jungkook feels his torso being lifted, his legs dangling lifelessly beneath him. He feels a strong pull on his shoulder and then there’s a tug. His stuck foot is now free.

The unknown man sets him inside the passenger side. Soon, he’s sitting in the driver’s seat. He pulls away from the car wreckage on the road. And then, he looks at him.

“Don’t worry. It’s alright. You’re alright. I’ll get you help.”

Jungkook looks at the man. He starts to see a glimpse of sandy blonde hair in a pompadour, a small button nose, and a pointed jaw. But they’re not enough to recognize him when red still fills the large expanse of his vision.

The man pushes the stick to the second gear. “I’m Kim Namjoon.”

“Wh-who?”

“Namjoon.” A beat. “Your bestfriend.”

“My bestfriend?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon turns his eyes back on the road. “You’ll remember me once we get to the hospital. Now, just sit and rest.”

A bright light is directed to his eyes. It’s so bright he couldn’t tell if it’s even white. But at least, it’s no longer red.

“His eyes are alright,” a woman in her late forties informs. She’s wearing a pristine white coat over a green set of shirt and pants. Jungkook thinks he must be now in a hospital. He doesn’t remember exactly when he woke up. All he recalls from the past minutes is the blinding light and the piercing stench of iodoform.

“Thank God,” a deep voice says. Jungkook looks to his left and he sees the man who picked him up. Now that everything seems more illuminated now, he could see the familiar curve of the man’s smile. His droopy eyes, tall frame, long limbs, and even the small indent of dimples on his skinny cheeks. It really is Namjoon.

The doctor nods. “Yeah, he got lucky. Just a few cuts, scratches, and bruises. Even if his right foot was stuck in the vehicle, not one ligament was damaged, lest pulled. He would be walking like normal once he gets enough rest.” The woman looks at him, “But he has an arm to tend to. He needs to get it bandaged and cleaned from time to time.”

Jungkook follows the doctor’s gaze onto his arm. A thick white gauze covers the skin from his wrist to his elbow.

“It’s not much of a worry,” Namjoon smiles. “He lives with me. He’s in safe hands.”

The doctor pulls her lips in a relieved smile. “Glad to know that. He’ll need someone to help him clean it. The wound was not too deep but it’s pretty stretched wide. We gave him 15 stitches.” The door tucks her clipboard beneath her elbow. “Have him back here after two weeks. We have to get the stitches out.”

“Okay, doc,” Namjoon nods and sends the woman a grateful smile.

“Okay. I’ll leave you here with him, then. He just needs rest, then he can go home tomorrow,” The doctor claps Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon thanks and the doctor finally pulls the green curtains close behind her.

“Namjoon.”

Namjoon turns to him, scoffing lightly. “So, you remember me now?” The small smile that starts to grow on his face falls flat when he sees Jungkook pierce him with a questioning glare. Namjoon sits on the stool next to him.

Jungkook clears his throat. He looks straight into his friend’s eyes, “What happened?”

“I think you shouldn’t be worrying about that first. You need to rest—”

“What happened, Namjoon?”

Namjoon closes his eyes, sighing in defeat. “Well…you got hit. Your car received most of the impact on the right side. It drove your car rolling over for probably how many times considering the wreck I found you in. You know, it’s a wonder you only got an injured arm, considering your seatbelt was the only one that saved you from the hit. Your airbag didn’t work. You hit your head on the window but there’s only a small wound.” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, “Look, the Organization will assign you to another car so you don’t have to worry about paying for the damages. After all, it happened during your patrol and the airbag was—”

“Who hit me?”

Namjoon stops. He looks at Jungkook and then to his side. He keeps his mouth shut.

Jungkook purses his lips. “Namjoon, who hit me?”

Namjoon keeps his mouth shut.

Jungkook sighs, “You know I just got the Winston assassination case back on track. This person is probably highly involved in it—considering I’ve made quite a scene about the warrants—

“Jungkook, we don’t know who hit you.”

Jungkook gapes. “Ho—How could you not know? Forecrime has high chances to be in the timeframe before the crash—”

“Forecrime was unable to predict the crime.”

“What?”

Namjoon looks down at his hands. “Accident Prevention Sector reported they didn’t see any officer getting involved in a hit and run today.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek.

Namjoon shakes his head. “Look, this is probably just human error in the Division. We had the same problem in the Johnston home murders and the Kim crime family drug buy-bust.” Namjoon releases a sigh, “I already reported what happened to the FJO. From what I heard, they’re asking to check into the CCTVs in Somerset Road. Where your car was found. They’re just unable to do so tonight because the maintenance office is already closed. They’ll probably have something by tomorrow.”

Jungkook nods slowly. “Under which division was this case filed?”

“Precrime.”

“Who’s taking over it?”

“Property and Crime Scene’s Mark Benson.”

Jungkook sits up straight. “Transfer him to another case. Hand me this one.”

Namjoon stands up and places his hands on the man’s shoulder, stopping him from further leaving the bed. “Jungkook, you’re injured. You need to rest for a while.”

“Yeah, but the doctor said I will be fine by tomorrow. I can go to work tomorrow then.”

“Yes, tomorrow.” Namjoon glares at him, “Tomorrow isn’t now. Nor will it be for the next days to come because you need to heal your arm first. So, let Mark handle this one. Plus, you’ve not yet closed the Winston case. It would be too tiresome to handle two cases at the same time.”

Jungkook takes Namjoon’s hands off him. “If some son of a bitch easily got away from destroying my car and putting me in this,” he gestures to his arm, “I’d rather be the one to catch him myself. Please do me a favor and put me in charge of the case? Pre-crime’s handling it. I’m a captain in Precrime.” Jungkook purses his lips. “This is just my hypothesis but the hit-and-run doesn’t sound like a mere hit-and-run. It happened at Somerset Road. It’s too coincidental to take place at Somerset of all places. The culprit must be backed up by some technology to escape Forecrime right under their noses.” Jungkook grabs Namjoon's arm. “This could even be Winston’s assassin I’ve been tracking down for years. He has a history of using technology that took advantage of the weak points of FJO’s system. Please, Namjoon? You’re in the Bureau. You have jurisdiction over the divisions. You can easily convince them and get me to head the case.”

“Yes,” Namjoon hisses, “but I’m just an analyst in there.”

“You’re not just an analyst if Lieutenant Kim unofficially hails you to be his adviser. You helped Seokjin resolve a lot of issues between the two divisions. You’re personally close to him. You even got invited to his wedding.”

Namjoon blows out a frustrated sigh.

“Does that mean a ‘yes’?”

“What else will it mean?” the man rolls his eyes. “You know so well how to rope me into your schemes.” He stands up and fixes his friend’s bed.

Jungkook leans back on the pillow, “Of course, you’re my bestfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon drawls, tucking the sheets to Jungkook’s chest. He reaches for the remote, pressing the button to get the bed to recline.

“Namjoon.”

The man turns to the captain.

Jungkook smiles, “Thank you.”

Namjoon could only nod.

The Federal Justice Organization stands in the middle of the Metropolis Complex. Surrounded by towering buildings of corporations and business centers, the Organization is only five stories high. However, it occupies a large 20-hectare area, the largest in the complex. With two buildings that wing at the sides of the main facade, the Organization envelops the economic hotspot of the city, seemingly like a foundation of security.

The FJO is a matrix of floor-to-ceiling windows separated by layers of metal and concrete walkways. Everything is visible to anyone who’s standing at the façade. Officers in their black protective gears rushing past each other, helmets tucked underneath their elbows. Detectives busy on their phones and stacks of case folders. Interns running high and down with trolleys of files behind them, some even holding coffee cups. Higher-ups in their revered badge-infested uniforms wearing grim faces as team captains follow behind them.

And from the main lobby of the Organization, Jungkook could see Matthew Andrews looking at him from the walk-bridge above him. Jungkook takes the lift in front of him. He walks toward the man and salutes. “Chief.”

Matthew salutes back. He places his hands behind his back again. “I heard about what happened last night.”

“Ah, yes, sir,” Jungkook mutters. He tucks his bandaged arm behind him. “Just a minor accident. The wound isn’t that deep.”

Matthew nods slowly. “That’s good to know. Though I still would want you to stay at home for a while to heal. You must still be in shock.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’ve been through worse. This is just like a scratch. I can’t afford to miss a day at work. After all, the Winston case I’m heading is still media-hot.”

“You’re right.” Matthew looks at the bustling people in the lobby. “Work doesn’t seem to stop when you’re in here. Skipping a day is a privilege on-standby that we never get to use. Not when our work seems to follow us wherever we go. Right?”

“Yes, sir.” Jungkook nods.

Matthew turns back to him, “I also heard the Bureau transferred your hit and run case to you.”

Jungkook gives a tight smile. “Yes, sir. I think the Bureau thought it would be best if I handle the case. I have a hunch it’s connected with the Winston case.”

“The Bureau’s lieutenant said the same.” Matthew steps to him and claps his shoulder. “I’m just glad your injuries are not that serious, son.”

“Yes, sir. Me, too.” Jungkook smiles.

Matthew steps back, sending him one last smile, “Good luck with the case, son.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jungkook bids him goodbye. Matthew heads to the central lift. He nods at him before the metal doors close, and soon, Jungkook is alone again. Sighing, Jungkook fixes the cuffs of his jacket down to his wrists and heads for the Left-wing.

The Precrime Division is located at the West of the FJO Headquarters. The Murder sector, the second office to be reached from the Left-wing lift. With a 150 square feet area, Jungkook’s office is wide enough to accommodate his whole team without them frequently bumping into each other. At the same time, it is still small enough to effectively work around their tools. Jungkook’s desk is set against the glass wall that separates their sector from Organized Crime’s. Meanwhile, his team’s desks are stationed across his, next to the glass wall of Homicide’s. A metal “chute” is built on the innermost right corner. It’s boxy in structure and looks akin like the previous generation’s take on a fireplace. Except, the opening of the chute is placed much higher, above waist level. It’s used for message coordination among the different sectors. East-west to this metalwork is a huge glass board, fastened on a wooden compartment-panel that broke the series of glass walls in the middle. Despite the space provided to them, Jungkook thinks it’s still less than enough when one case is enough to immediately fill up the entire glass board with open files, their office, with all the team members.

Unlike today. Jungkook plops down on his swivel chair. He thinks it is the first time their glass board is not filled to the brim as he flips open the file case of the Winston assassination.

Jonathan Winston was the Chief General of FJO from 2015 to 2031, renowned for his pristine-clean reputation in his forty years of work. With numerous foundations supporting masses of the poor working class, Winston was a favorite of the people. Especially after he busted out the celebrated pork barrel scam of three Department of Justice’s heads in 2025. When Winston aimed for a position in the Senatorial board in 2032, he didn’t have to worry anymore about getting re-elected for the following term.

That is until August 15, 2047. He was sitting in a restaurant with his family when at 12:30, a gun was shot and Winston falls face-first onto the table with a gaping wound between his eyebrows. It was a field day for the reporters. Assassination in front of numerous potential witnesses in broad daylight and yet no identity of the culprit was found. All the witnesses, including Winston’s family, have different descriptions of the suspect, producing different faces. FJO can’t even trace if there was a mastermind behind the whole crime because no aberrant paper or electronic trail was found. The crime scene was spotless of any fingerprint, and so are the places probable to be the suspect’s hideout before and after the crime.

This is one of the biggest, and difficult, cases Jungkook ever handled. For despite the extensive collaboration between traveling agents of Precrime and Forecrime, FJO only ended up with a gunman they cannot indict. The organization saw similarities in the Winston assassination case with previous cases concerning an elusive gunman with an unidentifiable face: Leigh Anderson. The style of murder, his long background of numerous violent crimes, his reported hate on the New-Age Government, his notable appearances in the vicinity of his victims before their time of death—it all matched up to be too coincidental. Even his known victims’ descriptions of him cannot produce one exact face at all.

However, all of these are mere circumstantial evidence to the court for no singular physical description, fingerprint, or handwriting of Anderson is legitimate enough to be presented against him. Even after FJO has adapted a state-of-the-art technology in 2051, the lack of justice in Winston’s assassination continued to bear heavy criticisms against the organization. No agent in FJO was able to get into the exact time frame of the murder to provide the most convincing evidence in court: a crime record, the FJO-validated video of, or any event related to, the actual crime.

Until July 12 of 2059, exactly three weeks ago, when Captain Jeon Jungkook accidentally got into the timeframe of the Winston assassination while traveling for a different murder case. With the crime record of the whole travel, the clear shot of the crime, and the full image of the gunman to serve as solid evidence, Jungkook easily got the cold Winston case back on track. He’s even backed up by testimonies of Leigh’s sister and brother-in-law who divulged that Leigh has a history of cocaine addiction and gang involvement five years prior to the assassination. But, these never lightened the burden of the case. After Precrime succeeded in placing the warrant of arrest on their long-suspected gunman, Leigh Anderson suddenly disappeared. Disappeared like thin air, without any kind of trail left behind. Off-grid even to FJO’s state of the art technology.

Jungkook pulls out the papers about Anderson’s history. He scans through the file.

“…Ms. Anne Rowanson said she heard Anderson scream in the floor above her. When she let herself in his unit, concerned, she saw nothing but sheets of newspapers flying in the wind.”

“…It’s like he’s there but suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. And yet you could still feel his presence on your skin.”

“He’s always been a strange man….talked about a lot of sponsors, but never once mentioning their name.”

“…got an affinity for cars. Said he loves to crash them. He has a history with notorious car-crashing gangs.”

“James Kim said he’s violent. He said Leigh didn’t show any remorse on his face when he attempted to run him over with his car.”

“…Heavy breathing on the other line. Traced the number to a device that doesn’t actually exist.”

When Jungkook flips through their other file folder for Anderson, he ends up with the same information. Anderson suddenly disappears like thin air so conveniently at his supposed day of arrest. He’s got a lot of anonymous sponsors from the black market. He’s violent and he likes to send anonymous calls to his victims who survived, only to let them hear his heavy breathing on the line.

All of it fits too perfectly with the hit and run case. Anderson is likely to be supported by a big body rich enough to give him technology for time-traveling that could be at-par with FJO’s. Anderson is a likely suspect to hit Jungkook’s car beyond repair, its wreckage too great to be done by an amateur crasher. And, Anderson hates him. This Jungkook is sure of the day he announced to the media Anderson’s warrant of arrest. He called Jungkook’s personal phone that night to announce his identity and scream “I hate you,” “I’m going to fucking kill you,” and “you’re still two steps behind me no matter what you do,” again and again. When Jungkook traced the call, it all led to a nonexistent device, just like the statements of his previous victims.

Leigh Anderson must have used an illegal time-traveling technology last night, crashed right into Jungkook’s car before disappearing into thin air again, fulfilling his act of vengeance.

Jungkook clicks his tongue. He’s sent Hoseok Jung and Mark Lee earlier to the maintenance office of Somerset Road to retrieve the CCTV files. Although he’s yet to see the videos, Jungkook thinks there’s no other plausible reason for what happened last night other than Leigh Anderson’s doing. Everything aligns too perfectly with Anderson’s history to be coincidental.

The alarm suddenly rings. The light set above the chute flashes red. From the corner of Jungkook’s eye, he sees Jimin Park shoot up from his seat. Jungkook quickly follows suit. The metal doors open, the machine pushing a medium-sized red expandable envelope onto the receiving mouth of the Murder Sector’s chute. Jimin retrieves the folder and opens it. He pulls a chartreuse glass file from the envelope and slides it onto a slot on the glass board. He faces Jungkook. “Captain Jeon, red file, Forecrime, Future Murder Sector. Traveling agent in charge is Joanna Sy, crime record validated by traveling agents Steve Meyer, Ara Lee, and Nick Holbert. This is case number 5041. Murder by assassination. Victim’s name is James Kim.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“The suspect is…Leigh Anderson.”

Jungkooks slides in his gloves and dashes to the glass board. The wooden compartment behind the board slides open. Two black screens alight to show a live video conference with a short-haired blonde woman in a maroon blazer and a man in his late fifties wearing a black suit.

Jungkook salutes. “Good morning. I’m Jungkook Jeon, captain of the Murder Sector of Precrime Division. This is case number 5041, murder by assassination of victim James Kim by suspect Leigh Anderson. Recorded by Forecrime Future Murder Sector traveling agent Joanna Sy, validated by traveling agents Steve Meyer, Ara Lee, and Nick Holbert. My witnesses to the crime record gathered by the Federal Justice Organization are Chief Justice Stephanie Park and Chief General Matthew Anderson. Will the witnesses view and validate the crime record at this time?”

“Witness appeal granted.”

The glass board lights up and a video starts playing with the sound of honking cars in the city. The huffs of Joanna can be heard as Jungkook and the rest in the room see everything happening in Joanna’s eyes. She climbs up a bemired, dark staircase in some dingy apartment complex. When a large thud resonates from the floor above, Joanna sprints.

She runs through a dark hallway. The doors of the apartment are locked shut, save for one that’s situated right next to the door where the thud probably came from. Joanna slips in and scampers through the empty apartment. When she reaches the open balcony, she crouches down and hides beside the thick wall extension.

From her place, Leigh Anderson’s face is crystal clear visible as he’s crouched on his own balcony, body flat on the ground, fingers wrapped around his sniper. Joanna attempts to follow Anderson’s line of target only to land on an empty alleyway crammed between two dilapidated buildings. It’s empty until a man swings the door of a bar open and pops into the vicinity. Joanna zooms in her glasses. It’s James Kim.

Joanna whips her head back to Anderson. He pulls the trigger. Screams resonate from a distance. Joanna turns back to the alley. James is on the floor, head bloodied.

The record stops.

Jungkook turns around, “Jimin, time of the crime?”

“10:46.”

Jungkook looks at the time on the board. 10:16. They only have exactly thirty minutes. There’s more time. Jungkook hovers his hand on the glass board and swipes through the crime record. Joanna’s at a dirty, old apartment complex exactly facing an alleyway with two dilapidated buildings. He swipes forward and back through the video until his eyes are caught by something on the window. He sees towering, shining buildings standing on one side, smaller, dirtier establishments on the other, seemingly creating two columns in the open window.

Jungkook shouts. “Suspect location is at Middle Town! Get me a list of Middle Town apartment complexes.”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny Kim hollers, clicking through his computer. He dashes to the glass board and slides a grey glass file into the slot below the one containing the crime record. Jungkook nods at him and sweeps his gloved hand over the apartment list to bring them right next to the playing crime record. Jungkook pauses the record the exact moment Joanna assesses the empty apartment she hid in. Small studio type, gray metal balcony wiring, dull gray cemented flooring, and a huge window by the bedside, the large billboard of the Federal Justice Organization in a great view. Jungkook switches to the apartment complexes. He flips through them until he sees three complexes with probable ample view of the FJO billboard from their windows. Maria Residences, Sunset Place, Riverside Homes. All of them just stand near the billboard. He can’t tell if they are facing an alleyway. Jungkook clicks his tongue. “The architecture of the room, who could have designed this?”

Jess Thomson speaks up from her computer, “It looks like Danny White. He’s known for modern designs and his unproportioned large windows are his signature. His designs proliferated in the late 2020s.” Jess looks at the captain, “but almost every establishment in Middle Town has incorporated this style. White was the go-to man for middle-class housing.”

“Okay,” Jungkook swipes his fingers upward on the glass board, capturing a still-frame of the room. He swipes left and Johnny retrieves the blank grey disk where the picture was sent and hands it to Jess. “Check more details in the design and tell me what you could get,” Jungkook orders.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir, ten minutes have passed,” Taehyung Kim reminds. Jungkook just nods.

Jungkook plays the video again and stops at James Kim’s location. Black gravelly alleyway. Worn out buildings with cracking paint. The door swings open and out comes James. He is stumbling, possibly drunk. Just before Joanna’s perspective goes back to Anderson, Jungkook pauses the video and zooms in. James is reaching over to something that looks like a beat-up human-sized box. It’s blurry but Jungkook could make out a hand resting beneath the glass façade of the red box.

“A carnival ticketing booth stand,” Jungkook announces, “It’s an entrance to a small downtown carnival.”

“There are only two areas with that kind of vintage, cheap entertainment,” Jess informs, “Middle-high Streets and Holiday Avenue. But Middle-high is more of June Lee than Danny White. So it has to be Holiday Avenue.”

“Sunset Place.” Jungkook hollers as he zips up his protective gear, “The future crime scene is at Sunset Place.” He marches to the hallway, Murder Sector’s Task-Action head agents following behind. “Taehyung, flight time?”

“Ten minutes. We’ve got fifteen minutes left, sir.”

Jungkook nods and steps into the clear narrow glass-cased metal lift at the end of the hallway. Taehyung and the rest of the agents occupy the rest of the compartments. The lifts lock shut and propel them down the building and onto the Task-Action Agency Office.

In no time, Jungkook and his team and a number of Task-Action agents are zooming on the streets. By 10:38, the wheels of their vans are screeching into a stop in front of Sunset Place. The Task-Action agents pile out and soon, Jungkook and his team are climbing up the staircase they have seen in the crime record. Two sets of the flight of steps and then they’re running onto the dark hallway. Some of the agents have positioned themselves in front of Anderson’s door. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s team enters the empty room where Joanna has hidden, steps soundless on the naked concrete despite the heavy equipment hanging on their protective gears. Jungkook raises a closed fist and the agents hold their places by the door. Jungkook crouches, inching nearer to the wall extension. He looks at his watch. 10:43.

Jungkook breathes out and peeks at the other side. Leigh Anderson is lying on his stomach, fingers poised around his sniper. Just like the crime record. Jungkook presses the button on his contact device. Leigh’s door bursts open and the agents rushing steps reverberate through the walls. Jungkook whips out his gun, stepping from his hiding place. “FJO, freeze!—”

Gunshot.

Leigh Anderson is on the floor, slumped over his sniper. His head is blown up, blood splattered on the white tiles of the balcony, some even painted on the metal railings. A Glock 19 pistol on his left hand.

“It’s a suicide,” Taehyung mouths at him but Jungkook doesn’t hear anything.

He slumps forward on the balcony. His suspect is dead before he could even arrest him.

“Here’s the CCTVs we retrieved, sir,” Hoseok Jung informs, sliding an ice-blue glass disk into the glass board.

Jungkook nods, but his mind doesn’t comprehend what the agent said at all. He’s reeling back to the scene at Sunset Place. Chief General Andrews telling him the Winston case is off. Open and left cold again, probably for good this time. 12 years of hard work all for nothing. Jeon Jungkook finds it hard to swallow. It cannot end just like that. Anderson is definitely backed up by someone powerful. For all God knows, that benefactor has supported a lot of professional gunmen and another round of murders will start just like Anderson’s doing. Jungkook told Andrews about this, even almost pleaded. But the Chief General only sympathetically clasped his shoulder and told him to let it go.

“The Department of Justice called and wanted us to stop and leave it open for now. Even if I wanted to go with your hunch, we can’t do anything more when our only lead is now dead. Let it go, son,” Matthew closes his eyes, sighing, “Things like this do happen. The Unsolved Crimes sector won’t exist if it hadn’t been the case…We’ve still got enough cases on our plate to handle.”

It’s easier said than done. Jungkook can’t just let go of the case he’s headed for 12 years. 12 years he spent chasing after a suspect they cannot indict even when everyone knows he’s the culprit. 12 years he’s been mocked by a disgusting criminal only to let him have the last laugh by getting out of the case the easy way. Leigh Anderson was just within arms’ reach. For 12 years, Jungkook longed for this exact moment. And yet all he can do is just let it go? No, Jungkook, won’t have that. He can’t just let everything he’s worked hard for go down the drain so easily. He can’t—

“It’s not Leigh Anderson.”

Jungkook stops. He raises his face from his head from his closed hand. “What?”

“It’s not Leigh Anderson,” Hoseok repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Hoseok pauses the video. The image of Jungkook’s silver-gray Ford speeding along Somerset Road fills the frame of the glass-board. In the right corner of the crossroad, is an incoming black Jaguar, its license plate too blurred to recognize anything but its first number “1.” The right corner of the frame shows it was 20:23:40, August 1.

Hoseok hits play, and the Jaguar picks up speed, colliding into the right side of the Ford. It sent the car rolling over three times. At 20:23:50, the Jaguar continues on and disappears into the frame. Another tape rolls in and a CCTV mounted on a post near the road where Jungkook’s car came from. Just like the first one, it shows how the Jaguar crashed right into the Ford before driving away. The Jaguar drives off, continuing from where the first clip has lost contact of it. However, at exactly 20:24, the Jaguar completely disappears. Right in the middle of the road. Vanished into thin air. Caught by the CCTV.

When the next tape of another CCTV rolls in, no car passed Somerset from 20:31 until 20:46, when Namjoon’s car, a blue 80’s sedan zips through the road and stops at Jungkook’s car. At 21:03, the FJO has made its way to the car wreckage. Until at the end of the film on August 2, 11:45, the black Jaguar did not re-appear.

“This…is not Anderson’s doing?”

“Yes, sir. Well, as far as this evidence presents, it’s not him.” Hoseok rewinds the video and pauses at the 20:23:44 mark. The image of the Jaguar is back on screen. Hoseok zooms in. Jungkook gapes.

There’s almost no one on the wheel if Jungkook were to quickly look at it. But Jungkook did not, and in his seat, he makes out a silhouette. Its face was hidden in the dark and some parts of its body are blurred out. Even with these, Jungkook could see that the silhouette is slim and has thick, long limbs. Totally unlike Leigh Anderson. Leigh was overweight and sported a huge belly and large flabby arms.

“…What is this?”

“It’s the same question running in our heads, sir.” Hoseok looks at him, “All we know is that it’s definitely not Anderson.”

There are three blue pills left in the clear bottle. Jungkook pours them all onto his palm and downs them all in one go. When he puts down the bottle, his eyes travel to the city outside, drowning in the heavy downpour.

The city looks the same. Streetlights remain vibrant despite the blur of the thick raindrops. Some buildings still have their lights up in this ungodly hour. The majority of them have long darked out, blending with the ravenous night sky. Only the streets stay lit up but that seems hopeful when he’s seen them flicker in minute intervals. A few cars pass by. Jungkook can’t expect it to be the opposite, though. The buildings in Middle Town stay short under the shadows of the distant ones of the Metropolis. It’s always been like this. Jungkook doesn’t need to look at the window across the room to see the other side completely lit up by various apparatuses known to humankind. The difference between the Middle Town and Metropolis never fails to make itself known to him no matter how high their residence lies in the boundary.

The only thing that’s similar between the two is the humongous billboard that sits atop the crest of each district. Of course, the Metropolis had a bigger one than Middle Town. Nevertheless, they’re still one and the same. Jungkook could tell because it’s just 15 meters away from his place on both sides.

“In a world where everything seems to progress forward, there’s only one thing we hope won’t rush past us too soon. Nine years ago, various violent crimes have spread over the country in epidemic ratios. It seemed a miracle could be the only hope we’ll have. But instead of a miracle, we’re given a more tangible blessing: the time jumpers. When Allen McGregor and his assistant, Chisoo Kim, invented these novel devices that could let humans travel in the past and future, the Federal Justice Organization renovated itself and ensured the devices will fall onto good hands. Now with the ability to see the past and the future, the New-Age Federal Justice Organization has easily prevented crimes from happening and even solved the ones that have long scarred us for years. With just one month under the improved FJO program, the crime rates in the country have dramatically dropped to 95 percent. In a year, FJO has brought justice to every case left open in the 2000s and has prevented more crimes from ever happening. In the eight years, FJO has run their new system, there’s never been a crime that threatened the stability of our nation. The Federal Justice Organization, our nation’s salvation of justice.”

Jungkook tears his eyes from the billboard. They land on the picture frame that sits atop his desk. Warm brown doe eyes, short stubby arms, a bunny-tooth smile. Jungkook feels like he’s looking at a mirror. Bile rises to his throat. He turns the frame down. It’s not enough. Jungkook stands up and tosses it on the table containing his mess of papers and folders.

His eyes are burning. When he holds a hand over them, he realizes there were only tears.

Jungkook places his badge face-down on the metal post. After that, he places his face on the monitor and lets it scan his eyes. A beep and the Federal Justice Organization’s glass doors slide open and Jungkook secures his coat on his shoulder as he walks in the lobby. When he reaches the main hallway, he’s met by the grim face of Matthew Andrews.

“Someone from the Department of Justice was sent over to take our system away from us. He’s in the Left-wing now.”

Jungkook quickens his pace. The Chief General follows behind, “Apparently, a time jumper was found messing around FJO’s system. DOJ traced it back to Precrime.”

Jungkook halts. Matthew continues, “Apparently, they’ve been studying about aberrant appearances and disappearances of a car on cam. A black Jaguar with an unidentifiable driver. Their reports stated it started on July 15—three days right after the media televised your warrants against Leigh Anderson. What bothered them is the Jaguar’s pattern of disappearances. It’s completely similar to the traveling pattern of Precrime’s agents.” Matthew sighs. “The DOJ is going to turn up FJO upside-down in the following days. They’re gonna check on Forecrime and they’re going to take over the coordinating system of the Investigation Bureau, preventing it from mediating any interactions between the two divisions. But most of all, they’re gonna target Precrime. Especially your sector. This new case seems to be connected to Winston’s.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. Matthew runs a hand over his face, “From what I could see, they’re already suspecting Precrime’s high-ranking officials. Probably even of Winston’s assassination. The untimely death of Leigh Anderson is worthy of suspicion of an inside job to them.”

Matthew faces Jungkook. “You know the FJO has been hot in the eyes of the people these days because of the Winston case. A week from now, people are going to vote whether our new system is noble enough to continue for the next eight years. I can’t have DOJ flooring our system’s reputation, son. Moreso your very sector.”

Jungkook nods, “Yes, sir, I understand.”

“Jungkook,” Matthew holds his arm, “Keep an eye on this Yoongi Min—the auditor. Answer all of his questions. Let him look around. Satisfy his curiosity. But, be wary of him. DOJ hasn’t told much of how they will conduct their investigation but I think they’ve already got their men inside and it seems this Yoongi is gonna be heading it all. Whatever happens, good news or not, make sure to report them all to me. And if there’s any problem, ensure that we are the first ones to know.”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook salutes. Andrews fondly claps his shoulder and Jungkook immediately heads to the Murder Sector’s Office.

When he swings the glass door open, he’s met by his team standing apprehensively around a man in his late thirties. He’s standing at 5’7, sporting platinum blonde hair, thin-rimmed glasses, and navy tweed suit.

“Red files are for emergency ones—murders of passion or unprecedented murders late detected by Forecrime. Black is for premeditated murders—first-degree murders. Gray is for second-degree, maroon is for felony murders. And brown files like this one are for homicides,” Jimin hands the blonde man the folder.

The man nods, opening the folder to skim through a past case. After a minute he closes it shut. “But you’re still technically arresting people based on a future prediction of your co-workers aided by human-made and -operated devices.”

“Yes,” Jimin acknowledges. “These are the revised legalistic methodology of FJO as per the advice of Allen McGregor and his assistant Chisoo Kim. They were the inventors of this system but before that, they were lawyers.”

“How can you tell the system they’ve created is impossible of making inaccurate foreseen futures?”

“They don’t make mistakes,” Jimin assures. “The crime records seen by the Forecrime traveling agents in the future are validated by other traveling agents who have seen the same outcome. There has never been a wrong crime record in eight years. Sure, there may be inconsistencies in how the crime was done with the one viewed in the crime records. But the suspects seen in the future remain as suspects and they will still do the deed one way or another. Plus, the suspects’ motivations were checked on by Precrime’s traveling agents.”

“But what if a suspect decided not to forgo the crime?” the blonde man insists. “People are complex. We are capable of changing our minds at the last second. Can Forecrime even acknowledge a possible alternate future where this person backed out of a crime? Does Precrime really look at all the angles of these motivations you talk about?

“Forecrime and Precrime do all of those things because of our belief in predestination,” Jungkook finally interrupts, reaching a hand out. “I’m Jungkook Jeon, captain of Precrime, Murder Sector. You must be Yoongi Min.”

“I am,” the blonde shakes his hand. Yoongi quickly draws his arm back. “I was just asking Mr. Jimin Park here about the accuracy of your system.”

“Of course, it is accurate. The concept of predestination assures that everything in time is already determined before it comes to actuality. What will happen, will indeed, happen.” Jungkook snatches the brown file from the man’s hands. “When Jimin handed you this,” Jungkook raises the folder, “why did you flip it open?”

“Because I have to look at it. The department—”

“Because you’re going to have to look at it,” Jungkook raises a brow. “The department instructed you to investigate us and it is part of your protocol to see through our files. You’re going to open our files whether right now or tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. In the end, you will still look at them, one way or another. It’s a future predetermined by the system of DOJ.”

“Yes,” Yoongi nods, “but you can’t say the same for futures that are yet to happen anytime soon. In our field, we can only rely on objectivity. Factual evidence and observations. Tangible. And your predetermined cases are not any of those. Even if you check on them by having your traveling agents jump into the past.”

Jungkook sits on his swivel chair, “That’s why we conduct our arrests one to three minutes before the actual act of the crime to further verify if the crime record is correct. It’s called knowing an intended result. Doctors acknowledge them when they prescribe medications. It was utilized so because by facts, they—and we—know what will be the result.” Jungkook coyly turns around his seat, “Plus, we don’t charge the suspects we arrest with murder, but future murder. Its punishment is just a couple of eight to twelve years in our prison. A lot of degrees lighter than the punishment we have for murder, which not that we needed to say, was last given in 2051. Because as everyone knows, we stopped a lot of crimes from happening since our new system was established.

“But it still doesn’t negate you’re arresting people who haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I don’t even get why you need to question our system,” Jungkook scoffs, “Your department approved it eight years ago.”

“I’m questioning because DOJ is debating whether it was a good idea to have your program approved eight years ago. Especially when we’re possibly dealing with an inside job allowed by this very system.” Yoongi slides his hands in his pockets. Jungkook purses his lips.

The auditor pulls a glass disk from his briefcase. “Here’s what I’m here for.”

Jungkook motions to Johnny and the latter retrieves the glass disk to insert it in the bottom-most slot of the glass board.

The screen opens and shows a CCTV footage of two streets crossing at 5th Avenue Place. The date is July 16. The streets are almost invisible as it was cramped with a mass of cars just as usual. At 12:25, a black Jaguar appears on the leftmost street. It drives by for about five minutes into the heavy traffic. Then suddenly, like a blink of an eye, it disappears among the sea of cars. The time was 12:30.

Yoongi walks toward the glass board, “As you all know, the restaurant on the center-point of this CCTV is the same place where Jonathan Winston was assassinated. And there’s a black Jaguar here that suddenly disappeared at 12:30. The same time you timed Winston was shot.” Yoongi presses play again, and then a series of CCTV dated from July 17 to 31, shot from different streets across the city, at different times of the day. The only constant element among them is the suspicious black Jaguar which appears on the left corner of the frame, and suddenly disappearing after three to five minutes staying in the vicinity. It was almost like a glitch in the CCTV had they not been recorded in series with other CCTVs.

Yoongi pauses the video. “The person in the vehicle is obviously doing time jumps. Three to five minutes of in-vicinity before indefinitely disappearing—from what our records say, it all seems as if this driver is an agent doing the usual Precrime travel mission. Forecrime doesn’t even get to time travel outside the Federal Justice Organization Complex.” The auditor faces back to the glass board, “It all seems just like any Precrime mission until July 31.”

The CCTV shows the familiar curve of Somerset Road. The time, 20:21. A silver-gray Ford speeds along the road. At 20:23, a black Jaguar appears and collides into the Ford’s right side. Jungkook bites his cheek. It’s his hit-and-run accident.

Yoongi’s eyes sweep over the room, “Now, we all know this tape captured the recent hit and run the captain has been involved with.” The auditor looks at Jungkook, “And I know you’re currently heading this case in connection with Winston’s case. Considering it happened at Somerset of all places, the most electromagnetic-charged field in the country aside from FJO’s traveling area here. Meanwhile, Anderson is rumored to have access to time jumping technology. However, this record of the hit and run also serves as a crucial lead to all these suspicious random appearances and disappearances. Because right here is the perfect shot for our surveillance crew to enhance the license plate.”

Yoongi flicks his hand. The screen zooms in.

1116459-01

Yoongi continues, “Although we don’t know yet where this plate leads us to, it helped us confirm this Jaguar is the same car that’s been captured by the CCTVs I’ve played. Most importantly, we found this Jaguar was seen at FJO’s Special Operations Building on the west side of the Metropolis, one day before the hit and run.”

The screen plays again and shows a record of the same Jaguar parking in the said building on July 30, 21:30. A man steps out and enters the building. After thirty minutes, he comes back and enters his car. He pulls away and goes back onto the streets. After a minute, it disappears again.

“None of the traveling agents are allowed access in Special Operations. They don’t have any valid reason in the first place because that building is reserved for the Investigation Bureau’s special agents.” Yoongi turns around, facing the sector. “And we all know that building houses the most advanced time jumping technology of FJO. Thus, the department has every right to suspect a high-risk inside job is on the works right now. This driver is obviously interested in Winston’s case and has easily accessed the Bureau’s building. What’s worse is I’ve heard your own system cannot identify this suspicious agent, just like ours.”

Yoongi walks around the office, “That’s why I am here to find faults in your system. To see what possibly could allow this break of protocol happen,” Yoongi stops in his step and pins a glare at Jungkook, “and why you should be cooperating at your utmost best instead of arguing against me, if you want to keep your program.”

The captain clenches his jaw. The blonde man smirks. His eyes look over the room until they land on a projected panel on the glass wall. “What’s that?”

“It’s the door leading to our central record room,” Jimin answers. “We call it the Memory Temple. It’s where we keep Precrime’s crime records along with Forecrime’s. As well as the blanks—crime records our agents have seen in the past and future but have not yet made sense of.”

“And no one has authority to go into that room but the Investigation Bureau’s chief analysts,” Jungkook says.

Yoongi turns to him, “You’ve never been in that room, before?”

Jungkook twirls his clicker around his fingers, “We like to separate the agents from the temple as much as possible so no one would be accused of tampering evidence. Unauthorized handling of the records can fuck up the collected memories.”

Yoongi turns back to the door, “So, that means I’ll be the first to enter it, then.”

“Did you not hear what I said?” Jungkook scoffs, “Only the chief analysts are allowed.”

“Yes, but if you’re talking about a question of authority—”

“Oh no, no.” Jungkook snickers, “there is no question of authority. You don’t have any authority.”

Yoongi tilts his head, “Well, I have one if I have a warrant ready in my pocket.”

Jungkook looks at the man. His eyes glance around the room and see the equally appalled faces of his subordinates. Taehyung looks at the captain, tilting his head toward the auditor. Jungkook snaps his gaze back onto the auditor, “Show me the warrant.”

Yoongi steps forward and pulls a folded paper in front of him. Jungkook spreads it open.

“This investigation is done under the direct order and supervision of the Romania Lee, Chief General Attorney of the Republic of Metrosia. If the Federal Justice Organization fails to comply with this direct order, the government has no choice but to implement a temporary suspension of three months up to one year,” Yoongi quotes. He nears Jungkook’s chair and crouches, leveling his face to the captain. “The Chief General Attorney has authority over FJO. I represent her, so I have authority over you.” Yoongi smirks, “I told you, you should cooperate with me at your utmost best if you want to keep your program.” The auditor snatches the paper and folds it back in his pocket. “Now, show me this Memory Temple.”

Jungkook grumbles as he begrudgingly stands up from his chair. He goes to the panel on the glass and presses a button, flashing a special ID of entrance for emergencies to the scanner. Another panel opens and Jungkook leans forward to let the system scan his eyes. The door slides open to a descending flight of metal steps. Jungkook starts downward, leading Yoongi into the Memory Temple.

The temple is dark. Its light source only comes from the bright yellow pin lights installed on the floor. Precrime’s crime records glow in faded sepia around them, looking like burnt-out stars. In contrast, Forecrime’s crime records are illuminated in bright chartreuse, seemingly like new sprouts. Blanks dot a few spaces in grayish-white. Glass shelves shine in faint crystal blue as they line the whole room, forming a circular labyrinth around the central starting walking-space where the four are currently in.

A woman in her late thirties sporting a messy bun and a lab coat walks to them. “Uh, Captain, you do know you’re not allowed to go in here unless it’s an emergency?”

Jungkook holds up a hand, “It’s fine Rina. It is kinda an emergency. DOJ has sent their lovely auditor here to investigate us and he’s adamant about seeing the Memory Temple. We’re not gonna touch anything.

Rina nods. Jungkook starts to lead the way around, Rina trailing next to him. Yoongi looks around the temple. “How are these records maintained to be as accurate as they were first produced?”

“U-um, the temple is built with a special architecture that prevents the exterior environment from affecting the crime records,” Rina pushes her glasses up her nose. “The walls are made of Zonium, a strong, indestructible element that makes strong, fireproof metal that is used in the construction of other government archives. These walls ensure that the records will be safe if the FJO catches on fire, suffers an earthquake, hurricane, and any other natural disasters. There are also no windows here to avoid the sunlight from passing through and wearing out the glass files. Bureau staff here is just limited to eight analysts, including me—one for each sector of FJO to prevent any agents from both divisions tampering around the records for personal use. We’re also here to take care of the crime records and keep an up-to-date inventory of the ones that come in.”

“Is it possible to provide DOJ a copy of each of these records?” Yoongi asks.

“Oh no, sir,” Rina shakes her head vehemently. “The crime records are specialized to be impossible to copy. It has detectors that light up when it senses it’s being processed under a glass disk copier. When it lights up, the record immediately secretes a black ink that will render any memory corrupted to view. The FJO produced such specialized disks as per the advice of Allen McGregor and Chisoo Kim to ensure the security of the records their technology has enabled.”

Yoongi nods, seemingly satisfied. The three walk around the outline of the labyrinth, Rina explaining each aisle as much as she can to the auditor, Jungkook adding a few details of the cases that involved certain records. When they returned to the walk space they came from, Jungkook thanks Rina for the accommodation and leads Yoongi back upstairs. Once they’ve made it back to the office’s concrete floors, the door slides shut, the panel returning to its initial small projection on the glass wall.

Unlike the Memory Temple, Yoongi has complete jurisdiction over the rest of the FJO complex. And so, Jungkook ended up hesitantly agreeing to tour the auditor around the complex and explain the activities done in each office as per the auditor’s inquiries.

“Each sector in Precrime has a metal chute connected with their counterparts in Forecrime,” Jungkook drawls as he points to Organized Crime’s metal structure. “Agents place the files on the projected plate and the chute will provide enough wind to push it through the metalwork. Meanwhile, files are received from the plates with the central slit. It’s like an ATM but instead of money, it produces a legal-sized expandable file.” Yoongi only stiffly nods. Jungkook releases an exasperated sigh. His only silver lining in carrying on this tour is Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok who’s aiding him in doing the rest of the explaining.

The auditor only says his first statement during the tour when they cross to the right-wing: the Forecrime division. “There’s not much difference between your divisions.”

Indeed, the Forecrime division almost looks identical to Precrime. Their walls are also made of transparent glass, their floors metal-infused concrete walkways. Each sector also has similar gigantic glass boards with wooden compartments at the back to enable witnesses to view crime records during investigations. There are also projected panels on the back glass walls that lead to the Memory Temple.

The only difference between the two divisions is the special room Forecrime was granted. Unlike Precrime, Forecrime does not have a specialized metal lift that enables the agents to reach the Task-Action Agency Office in record time. Instead, Forecrime has a huge gymnasium filled with long “boxes” of time jumpers. From their position on the hallway, Jungkook could see their traveling agents flipping the lids open and getting inside these boxes. Jungkook remembers asking about how Forecrime agents travel in these boxes to his friend, Hanford Meyers. The Forecrime Future of Organized Crimes Sector captain said it feels like getting thrust into a VR-like reality at any point around the country.

“It’s like you’ve suddenly awaken into a dream. You don’t have any sense of where you are. You only know of the time. And what you’re supposed to do. Before they could travel, Forecrime agents are trained to have an immense focus on the points of the case they have to check on in their travels in the future. So when they enter the box, it just seems like they’re being led by their conscious’ voice. The rest, we leave it to Precrime. What only matters is to see the nearest intended future and the box.”

All Jungkook could think about is how wrong it feels to call those time jumpers “boxes” when they look more like the vintage tanning beds.

The time seems to pass too fast since they’ve been in Forecrime because now, Jungkook is leading the team down to the ground floor. It must be because it was Jimin who took charge in explaining the rest in Forecrime. Meanwhile, the mundaneness of the fourth and fifth floors of the Investigation Bureau and the Offices of the High-ranking FJO Officers look and feel too much like the typical office the auditor already knows too well.Jungkook reaches the end of the hallway behind the main lobby, standing in front of a metal lift. However, this lift is not like any other lifts in the complex for this one has black gildings around its edges. It also has a note on the button’s panel that says, “For high-ranking officials and Freedom Security Staff Only.”

Just like at the panel on the back wall of the Murder Sector, Jungkook shows his identification card to the detector and leans forward to scan his eyes. The lift opens and inside, he presses “4,” subsequently letting the rest of his small posse enter the metal box. Jungkook presses the down button and soon, they feel the lift descending into the basement floor of the building.

The light at the top flicks green. The doors open and what awaits in front of them is a long metal walkway that leads to the center of the floor. Unsolved Crimes captain Ryan Bergara passes by and salutes at Jungkook. Jungkook does the same and continues on, and soon, they’re walking onto Federal Justice Organization’s Prison Area.

The walls are not made of glass but instead, of silver-gray metal similar to the ones used in the Memory Temple. There are small offices that circle around the floor housing wardens and utility staff. But the largest office sits on the north end. It has a glass wall that separates itself from the main hallway and the rest of the offices. A huge control board is set up filled with loads of different buttons and levers. Sitting in the swivel chair in front of it is the Chief Warden.

Jungkook knocks at the glass door. The Chief Warden jumps in his seat and turns around. Jungkook gives a small smile. The warden salutes at him, smiling, as he presses a button that opens the glass door.

“Why are you knocking instead of using your card? Could have saved me unnecessary shock,” Rick snickers.

Jungkook shrugs. “I felt like not using it after seeing you being so attentive to your job. Why are you even on the board? You’re the chief. Where’s Martin?”

“Took a leave to attend his wife’s performance at the opera. Bastard’s living a fairy tale these days,” Rick trails off as he peers behind the captain and notices the strange blonde man staring too intently at him. Rick raises a brow at the captain.

Jungkook sighs, “DOJ. This is their auditor Yoongi Min. He likes to check out the prison.”

Rick nods and turns to his board. “Make yourselves welcome to the balcony.” The Chief Warden presses a button and a buzzer goes off. The door at the right corner of the board pops open. Jungkook leads the way onto the balcony of the Prison Area. In front of them is a sea of glass-walled prison cells layered on top of one another. Each cell holds one prisoner, seemingly fast asleep as they stand stiff, wearing orange jumpsuits. A couple of tubes are attached to their body, connecting it to a huge tank that sits on the bottom compartments of their cells. Looking at the prison, one cannot help but feel like they’re looking at a wall of coffins tipped face-front.

“Your prison is—”

“Highly secured?” Jungkook turns to the auditor, “Yes, we made sure of that.”

“No. It’s inhumane.”

Jungkook scoffs, “I-inhumane? This is inhumane?”

�� “You’re stripping these people of their freedom to act on their autonomy to as basic as being awake.”

“Well, they lost their right to that freedom when they’ve stepped on other’s rights to commit their crimes,” Jungkook takes a step forward. “This is just for temporary. We’re going to release them anyway after their sentences. It’s better to make use of the time and teach them what it’s like to have your rights stripped away from you so they won’t even have to think again of stripping others of their rights.”

Yoongi cocks his brow. “It’s still inhumane. Your acting almighty, dictating these people deserve it when you’ve arrested them based on mere human-made predictions you make a temple for. You’re not acting like humans. You’re acting like gods and that is inhumane.”

Jungkook purses his lips. His eyes glance behind Yoongi’s back and see Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok nodding to themselves. Jungkook steps out and looks at them. “You’re nodding as if you know what he’s talking about.”

Hoseok shrugs, “Well, he has a point. We’re exercising our powers determining everyone’s future and dictating what consequence should they have. Indeed, only gods do that and we are no gods.”

Jungkook turns away and sighs. “Go back to work, all of you.”

The three nod. They salute at the captain and silently make their way out of the balcony.

Yoongi falls in step next to Jungkook. He looks down at his shoes. “Sorry, it’s a bad habit. I find it hard to see limitations in my words.”

Jungkook remains quiet.

Yoongi looks at him. “I know you must have great value for this system. Especially when you lost someone dear to you at such a tragic event—”

Jungkook turns to him.

“—And now, the culprit who hit you is walking around free—”

“Cut the bullshit, Yoongi. What are you really looking for?”

Yoongi levels his eyes with his. “Flaws.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. “The organization hasn’t made any flaw in eight years. Yes, there are some suspects who slipped past us and ended up finishing the crime. But we still successfully caught them in the end and exacted appropriate punishment.” Jungkook takes a step to the auditor, “Justice has been ensured at all times. The system is perfect.”

“Yes,” Yoongi nods, “your system is impeccable. But even if you act like gods using this system to its full potential, you are still humans. And humans are flawed. If the system is indeed perfect, then its flaws have to be created by humans.”

Jungkook stands still in his position.

Yoongi makes his way to the glass door, “And you’re wrong, Jungkook. FJO’s system has already made one flaw: that elusive driver of the black Jaguar.”

Jungkook winces as Namjoon pats the last drop of ointment on his wound. Namjoon looks up at him then starts wrapping his friend’s arm in a fresh bandage. “From what I remember, you used to have high pain tolerance.”

“What do you mean ‘used to’? I still have a high tolerance,” Jungkook mutters, using his free hand to raise his mug of coffee to his lips.

Namjoon makes a particular hard tug and Jungkook freezes, stifling another wince. Namjoon tilts his head, “No, I think you do not.” Jungkook faces away from his friend. Namjoon hums as he tucks the end of the bandage to the captain’s elbow with a pin. He pats it lightly one last time and looks at his friend, “Something’s bothering you. Tell me.”

Jungkook sighs, “It’s just work. Nothing you need to worry about. The DOJ is already messing with your department.”

“So you’re also getting tipped over your backs by DOJ, too?” Namjoon snickers, “Great. We’re on the same page. Now, tell me what’s up.”

Jungkook puts down his mug. “Fine. Tell me yours first.”

Namjoon leans back in his chair, placing his arms beneath his nape, “So we’re doing the ‘let the worse problem win’ game again, huh? Thought this was over in college.”

Jungkook gives him an unamused look. Namjoon chuckles, “Okay, I’ll go first. Well, today someone named Chris Jefferson acted like a king and demanded all of us Bureau analysts to let him see our files and history of connections. Good thing I programmed my personal phone to be off-grid to any system or else Seokjin’s name is gonna start making headlines. But I’m still pissed. I had to reorganize my files again when Chris was unsatisfied with the mundaneness of our things. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. I’ve already poured out enough when we reached our building.” Namjoon leans forward and clasps his hand together, “Now, tell me about yours.”

Jungkook’s eyes travel to the ajar door of his office. He shakes his head and turns to his friend. “DOJ sent their auditor to us. They’re suspicious of our sector because this black Jaguar that hit me is apparently been under their radar for a while doing suspicious things that seem to be connected with Winston’s case.” Namjoon’s eyes widen. Jungkook pulls his lips, “Yeah, I didn’t imagine it was going to be more complicated. I’m still sure it’s Anderson. I don’t have any notable enemies in and outside FJO. Only suspects. And Leigh is the only suspect that’s escaped from my hands. There’s no one who’ll have a grudge against me but him. A thinner man was made out from the CCTVs, but who knows? All we have is just a silhouette after all.”

Jungkook runs his hand through his hair, “But it’s hard to stand on that ground when that Jaguar’s doing the three to five minutes in-vicinity pattern of Precrime traveling agents. And this goddamn auditor has to stomp on all my pride and dignity and run everything in Precrime to his way while he preaches as if he’s better than anyone of us.”

Ugly silence. Jungkook looks at the hanging frame stand on his bookshelf. “On his first day, he implied my faith in this system was not because of my commitment to my job but because of…Daehyun.” Namjoon goes stiff. Jungkook closes his eyes and sighs, “I just don’t know what I should feel in this mess anymore because everything…is too much.”

Namjoon twirls his mug around his hand. “Has…none of the traveling agents seen this driver? Precrime and Forecrime?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No. I requested Property and Crime Scene and Accident Prevention to do more travels four days ago and it’s still negative. I even asked Organized Crimes to look into this but even they can’t place this driver into their web of contacts. Forecrime didn’t see anything related to the hit and run. We have his license plate but that is not much of a help because our programs didn’t type it as registered, stolen, or even a burner. Just ‘invalid.’ We’d never had an invalid before. We usually type in suspects caught by the CCTV as soon as one hour.” Jungkook exasperatedly runs a hand down his face. “I practically exhausted everything in the system for one whole week and I still don’t know a fucking goddamn thing about this driver.”

Namjoon nods silently.

Jungkook looks at him. “Do you know something?”

Namjoon sends him a tight smile, “Something that could help you a bit, I do.”

Jungkook’s moves his mug away, leaning over the table. “Tell me.”

“Well, this is not part of our protocol. None of it is and whatever we may retrieve from doing this, we cannot use as substantial evidence to indict anyone. It can only go as far as a guide to use. But, it’s still worth a shot trying.”

Jungkook nods at him to continue. Namjoon grips his mug tighter. “Back when FJO is still running the traditional a-gazillion-paperwork-way, we at the Bureau have encountered countless of horrendous cases with unidentifiable suspects. Some of them have gone cold. The most notable was Linton Park’s 7 Capital Sins serial murders. 10 years ago. We were losing hope until we learned someone from one of our departments is capable of identifying the suspect without the help of our system. It was totally unconventional and we almost didn’t believe it. Everyone but Seokjin. He’s the only one who believed it and it was a good thing that he did. Because after he pushed this unconventional method for consideration, we gathered enough evidence to indict Linton. After that, all of our impossible cases were entrusted into this girl. She still remained to be my contact when the Bureau encounters records with people the new system is unable to identify.”

“Who is this person?”

“Y/N L/N. She’s a sketch artist…and a clairvoyant. She can draw up the most unimaginable faces from a future no traveling agent can reach. Not even FJO’s picture-perfect system can penetrate the futures that she sees. What’s astounding is,” Namjoon looks straight at Jungkook, “she’s never been wrong.”

next | series masterlist

A/N pt.2: This story is based on Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s short story, Minority Report (2002). That being said, this series may contain spoilers for the movie so if you want to watch the movie, please do so first before reading!

Hi @senfleurs! This is your (long overdue) make-up birthday gift from yours truly! I got inspired (and also challenged) to fulfill my part in your Angst Diplomacy™. I know I’ve already said lots of things on your birthday but I just want to pour more love for you. You’re an amazing person and you’ve constantly been there for me through thick and thin and I am eternally grateful of you for that. You’ve always had a good taste in art and books and so much more and that inspired me to write something that can, at least, take a small spot in your top-tier™ taste. So thank you also for being a strong inspiration for me in writing this :”)

Also, this fic happened to drop by the birthday of one of my dear supporters from day 1, @kwonthefire, so happy, happy birthday hon! Thank you for being a wonderful reader who never failed to send me love and motivation when I’m starting to doubt myself. I wish your quarantine birthday was good to you because you deserve happiness! I hope you’re taking care of yourself good and may you always stay safe and remember you are loved and appreciated, even by such a measly, smol writer on the internet you’ve managed to make smile on days’ end! Love you!

Notes | Next update will be on the week after next week, Sunday, May 31! If you guys wanna get tagged in a taglist, just hit me up down the comments so I can track you all! Thank you for reading and giving a chance for My Time! :’> ++ As you know, this is a mystery fic so it will be most appreciated if any theories pertaining to the story be kept down the comments so I can entertain them all without spoiling our future readers! Once again, thank you so much for reading this! **Tagging my lovely hon, @spring2787 who requested to get tagged in all of my works. Thank you for the support hon!

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peculiar-sunshine · 4 years

Text

Why? (a Dallas Winston Imagine)

Hello Friends! So I am fairly new to the realm of fanfiction writing (so please be nice 🤪), but a friend of mine who would like to remain anonymous has asked me to write a Dallas Winston imagine for her. I don’t consider myself a good writer by any means, but I hope she enjoys it 😊😊 TRIGGER WARNING: This story revolves heavily around the topic of self harm and contains strong language, viewer discretion is advised.

Two weeks.

It’s been two whole weeks since you last saw your boyfriend, Dallas Winston. Sure, there were times when you guys had gone days without seeing or talking to each other before, but two fucking week? You knew Dally had to be wondering what was up, but you just couldn’t face him. Not now. Not after what you had done to yourself.

You needed time. Time to process the chaotic mess that you call your life unfolding before you. Time to deal with the feeling of miserable emptiness that you had allowed to fester for far too long, and the subsequent explosion of sharp, stinging agony now permanently etched into your wrists.

Dally knew about it, though. Or at least he knew that it had happened before. You were sort of forced to admit it to him one night when he ran his hand teasingly up your thigh and felt the thin ridges of scar tissue. He stopped and questioned you about it, but you dismissed it with a simple “it was a long time ago, it will never happen again,” and allowed him to continue, curious and concerned but nonetheless satisfied.

You weren’t sure how he would react if he found out you’d done it again. You loved Dallas with all your heart, but he was about as predictable as a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. He could either react with an overzealous, fire-breathing rage or with such stone fucking cold intensity that the very thought of it chilled you to the bone. This is why he could never find out, would never find out. You thought about this as you dabbed away at the last little drops of blood collecting at the surface of your cuts, wincing at the piercing and itchy sensation.

Suddenly, you heard the doorbell ring.

Shit, you thought, please don’t let that be who I think it is.

You scrambled to bandage up your wrists and conceal them under your sleeves. You leaped off of your bed, smooth out your skirt, and check your appearance one last time in the mirror. Damn. Your eyes looked puffy and your cheeks were red, but there wasn’t time to fix it. The doorbell rang again. You put on a fake smile as you hurry toward the living room.

You opened the door and there stood none other than Dallas Winston himself, hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket and a cancer stick hanging out of his mouth.

“Nice to see you again, doll,” he said, an angrily bemused look in his eye. “I was starting to think I didn’t have a girlfriend anymore.”

“Babe, I’m so sorry,” you sighed, “I’ve just…I’ve just been so busy lately and, uh, I’ve…well…”

His eyes softened as he looked at your face. “Are you feeling okay, Y/N? You don’t look so hot.”

“…Uh, yeah, that’s it. I think I might be starting to come down with a cold or something.”

You hated lying to him, but you knew it was for the best.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it into the grass. “Well, I guess that explains it, man. But why didn’t ya tell me? I could’ve come over and, I dunno, took care of you or something.”

“I just…I didn’t want to bother you, that’s all.”

“You don’t bother me, doll. You never bother me. In fact, the only way you do is when you get me all hot and bothered.”

He took this opportunity to let himself in, close the door, grab your hips and pin you up against the wall. He planted soft, sultry kisses on your lips and all over your neck. Briefly forgetting your woes, you giggled and allowed Dally to sweep you off your feet, quite literally. Without daring to pull his lips away from yours, he carried you into the bedroom.

He placed your body down on the bed as though he were handling a tiny porcelain doll. He climbed onto the bed and hovered over you as you placed your hands on his shoulders and tried to pull him closer to you. Dally, however, being the ever aggressive alpha male that he is, grabbed your wrists and pinned you down. Instantly feeling the harsh sting, you let out a yelp.

He immediately let go and sat up a bit. “Baby, what wrong?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Um, I was just…surprised. I wasn’t, y’know, expecting you to do that.”

Dally was bewildered. You had never had a problem with him taking control like that. What was going on? Did he hurt you?

He glanced briefly at the side of your bed, but immediately did a double take when he saw the wads of red-stained tissues piled up in the wastebasket. It was at this moment that he put two and two together.

“Y/N…can I see your wrists?” he asked.

“Uh, why?” you laughed, nervously. “Just let me see them.”

“There’s nothing to see.”

“Let me see, Y/N.”

“No.”

“Let. Me. See.”

“NO.”

“Goddammit, just let me see!”

He seized your left arm and rolled down the sleeve. He peeled back the bandage, revealing about eleven small lines, raw and oozing. You began to cry.

Speechless, Dallas let go of your wrist and slowly retreated to the edge of your bed. He turned away from you, hanged his head and sighed loudly. You were shaking and trying so hard not to bawl.

“Why?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“What do you mean?” you replied, quietly.

“I mean, why? Why did you do this? Why would you want to hurt yourself like this?”

“I don’t know, Dal, I just…I…well…things haven’t been okay with me. Not for a long time and—”

“And you didn’t think you could come and talk to me about it?”

He whipped his head around to look at you. His eyes looked bloodshot…and furious.

“No, babe, it’s not that, I…I didn’t—”

“YOU DIDN’T WHAT, Y/N? HUH?” he exploded, jumping to his feet and practically foaming at the mouth. “Did you think I wouldn’t understand? That I wouldn’t get it? That I wouldn’t have given a shit? What the fuck do you think I would have done? God dammit, why did you do it?! Why?!”

You felt bile rising in your throat as he grabbed you by your shoulders and began to violently shake you. “Do you have a fucking death wish or something Y/N? Because that’s what’s gonna fucking happen if you keep this shit up!”

By now, you could feel the sobs racking your body. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you tried desperately to distance yourself from his grip. You had never seen Dallas like this. Sure, you’d seen him get mad, but not this mad. It was like some sort of animalistic demon had seized control of him. You were beyond terrified.

Looking into your eyes, he could see the fear and panic he was causing you. He let go, instantly overcome with guilt.

“…Y/N…baby I’m…I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t speak. You were too scared to even move. All you could do was stare at him and cry.

“I dunno why, man…I didn’t mean to…Honestly, I didn’t mean to act like that.”

He tried to place a hand on your cheek, but you flinched.

“Y/N…”

Feeling the whole weight of the situation resting on your head, you pulled your knees into your chest, put your head between your knees and let go.

You cried harder than you’d ever cried before. You didn’t even bother to conceal your wails, you screamed and sobbed as though you were releasing every last droplet of sorrow from your body. You cried so hard you felt nauseated, but at this point you didn’t care.

Dally gently put a hand on your back and began to rub it in small circles. After a few minutes of your harrowing lamentation, he slowly picked your body up and placed you into his lap. You allowed yourself to melt into him.

“Let it all out, doll.” he cooed, kissing the top of your head.

After a while, your cries turned into whimpers, and you soon stopped altogether. You steadily regained your composure and sat up in Dally’s lap.

“I’m so sorry I acted like that, Y/N.” he said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I just…I didn’t know what to think. I love you so much and I’d do anything for you, and to see you hurting yourself like this…it’s…well, it’s killing me.”

“Dal, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to worry about me, that’s all. I…I guess I thought I could handle it on my own.”

“But you couldn’t, could you?”

“…No, I guess not.”

“Look, doll, I know I’m probably not the easiest person to talk to, but please don’t keep this shit to yourself, alright? Come talk to me, man. And I mean it. I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job to help you and keep you safe.”

“Babe, it’s not your job to—”

“Yes, it is my job. Like I said, I’d do anything for you…I love you.”

Dally gave you small but meaningful kiss on your lips. “Now, do you promise me you’ll never do anything like this again?”

You gazed into his deep brown eyes. “Yes, I do.”

“And do you promise to tell me when things aren’t going okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.”

He laid down on your bed and pulled you down next to him. You spent the rest of the night cuddling, with him whispering in your ear about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

Yeah, your life wasn’t easy, but at least you had Dallas Winston by your side. 💕

#the outsiders #dallas winston #fanfiction #deep #self harm #depression #anxiety #outsiders #outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fanfiction #dallas x reader #s.e. hinton

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overwatchleaguereport · 6 years

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Overwatch League Week 1: Shanghai Dragons vs. Los Angeles Gladiators

After a thrilling match between the Shock and the Valiant, with the Valiant taking the win and exceeding my expectations, we move into the second game between the Dragons and the Gladiators.

Last time I covered a game, the ‘Live Update’ thing didn’t work so well, so I’m just going to write my recap as tonight’s matchup happens and then upload immediately. For the record, I predicted that the Gladiators would win this game, 3-1. Now let’s see if I’m right.

Map 1: Dorado

Starting Offense: Dragons

I was surprised to see Hydration (Gladiators) on Doomfist for Defense, but he’s the pro. He knows what he’s doing.

As it was, the Dragons pushed the cart all the way to the top of the first hill within the first minute. Gladiators seemed a bit sloppy until Surefour (Gladiators) got several important picks in a row, picking off both of the Dragon supports, their Winston, and the Tracer. Though the Dragons had the upper hand, they seemed unsure of how to assault the Gladiators’ defense, especially with Surefour providing an uncontested overwatch (pun intended). When Hydration rocket punched the Dragons’ Mercy, their final push fell apart.

The Dragons’ defense was a bit more traditional, with no Doomfist, but they literally could do nothing against the Gladiators’ onslaught. In one minute, the Gladiators had pushed the cart as far as the Dragons. The round was over, with the Gladiators taking the lead.

Map 2: Anubis

Starting Offense: Dragons

The Dragons’ offense was actually very aggressive, pushing and capturing Point A within the first two minutes. The successful push was due, in part, to Undead on Widowmaker and MG on D. Va. Widowmaker pinned down the Gladiators’ DPS and supports, and D. Va managed to get off an ultimate that broke the Gladiators’ ranks.

The offense on Point B was less impressive, however. The Gladiators broke their pushes three times, with the Dragons unable to get any percentage on the point by the time the clock hit three minutes left. The Dragons’ next push was again a mess, with the Gladiators gaining and using their ultimates both quicker and more effectively. In the last minute, the Dragons looked really sloppy, with their supports getting pushed back nearly to Point A by an uncontested, very aggressive D. Va. However, the Dragons’ own D. Va managed to zoom past the Gladiators, taking advantage of their aggressive overextending. The Dragons’ Mercy managed to Guardian Angel over to the D. Va, which threw the whole Gladiators’ defense into chaos. Though the Gladiators managed to put up a defense, their cockiness nearly lost them the point. As it was, the Dragons were ultimately shut down.

In the second round, the Gladiators were looking strangely cautious and unwilling to commit. Then, all at once, the entire team leapt onto the point and completely annihilated the Dragons. The Gladiators had the better gameplay and positioning, and it would be impossible for me to accurately describe how one-sided the matchup was. The Gladiators went from zero to a hundred, and in ten seconds, the Gladiators had achieved a team kill without losing a single one of their members.

After that, it was all over. On the very next push into Point B, the Gladiators won. The attack was a lot sloppier, and they lost a few more of their members, but regardless, the second point of the match was theirs.

Halftime Score: 2-0, Gladiators

Map 3: Ilios

Both teams put up a good fight over the Well control point, but the Gladiators ended up taking control. The Dragons seemed unsure of how to deal with the Gladiators’ Pharmercy combo. They attempted to put together a two-pronged attack, with the Dragons throwing a McCree and a Mercy together to go along the right side, but even that combo could not down the Pharmercy until the Gladiators had about 90% left. With their Pharah down, the Gladiators lost Well to the Dragons, albeit with 99% on the count.

But then the Gladiators struggled to take their point back. Even after the Dragons’ McCree dodge rolled himself into the Well (not on purpose, I might add; while I’ve pointed out that suicides can be smart, this one was certainly not), and Biggoose (Gladiators) used Lucio to boop the Dragons’ ulting Zenyatta into the Well, the Dragons managed to get their count up to 99%. From that point on, there was a desperate battle to gain control of the point. Finally, after nearly a minute of back-and-forth, Biggoose managed to use his Lucio to stay on point long enough to allow the Gladiators to take control of the point, bringing their count to 100%.

The Dragons took Ruins to start, and managed to hold the point all the way up to 58%. However, the Gladiators managed to take the point at that point, and held it all the way until their Genji activated his Dragonblade and got a triple kill in the last few seconds. With that, Gladiators won and clenched their overall victory. However, the Dragons still had one more chance to stop the Gladiators from sweeping them clean.

Map 4: Eichenwalde

Dragons started off on offense, and their team comp was weird, fun to watch, refreshing, and ultimately unsuccessful. They tried a quad-tank, double support comp with no Mercy. Their assault featured a Zarya, a Roadhog, a Winston, a Reinhardt, a Lucio, and a Moira. Though they managed to rush all the way to the payload, they were quickly wiped by the Gladiators, thanks in large part to Surefour, their Pharah.

After that strange push, the Dragons switched back to a more traditional team comp, and the match proceeded as expected given the precedent set by the rest of the match. The Gladiators kept the Dragons back, losing a bit of the assault percentage here and there. The Dragons tried to counter Surefour with a McCree, though Surefour put too much pressure on the backline for the McCree to do anything effective. The Dragons tried one last desperate time to capture the payload, but were unfortunately ultimately repelled.

The Gladiators had a much more normal team comp heading toward the payload, but despite their aggressive push, they lost Surefour’s Pharah early into the tram fight, leading them to fail their push. Their second push was a lot more successful, and they deleted the Dragons without much effort at all.

Final Score: Gladiators 4, Dragons 0

I guess my faith in the Dragons was misplaced. Y’all couldn’t get even one point for me?

With that, I’ll see you back on Twitch, MLG, or wherever else you’re watching the League! Have fun out there, and may your team win!

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lyricalt · 7 years

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[ovw] carry

Rating: T Pairing: mcgenji Note: Pre-relationship, flirting, pining, Recall. A kinda dumb warm-up.

(Now on [AO3])

The trouble with always finding the high ground is the possibility for a very long fall back down. Genji hasn’t been keeping an eye on McCree, though he has been aware of McCree’s revolver falling suspiciously silent for the last three minutes. This leaves Genji with a little more enemies than he cares to fight by himself, but it’s only been three minutes. There must not be any stairs for McCree to climb.

He ducks behind a car to reload a new set shuriken, make sure his swords are still within easy reach, and take a quick breather to set a new rhythm. His gaze flits upwards, sweeping over ledges and balconies. He is annoyed to find them all clear.

A whistling rocket flies above him. Genji sees that. It crashes into the building behind him, the shattering debris forcing him to leap out from cover and into incoming gunfire. He distantly feels the sidewalk shake from the impact, making his footsteps skip over the ground before he can stand proper, but he cannot afford to stay still for long. He draws his sword and goes for the mercenary with the rocket launcher.

Seven more mercenaries move to intercept Genji, his beeline charge across the street towards his target too obvious and brazen. Genji deflects the first wave of bullets, gets a knife lodged into his armor where his left clavicle should have been, and puts three shuriken into the neck of the last man standing between him and the mercenary with the rocket launcher.

Genji’s HUD flashes several warnings once the point of the missile is directed his way. A dozen suggested escape routes scroll over his screen, his mind rejecting each one faster than he can blink the commands through the interface. He has no time to clear the screen, knowing he is surrounded on all sides with a rocket pointed to his chest.

Genji stomps his foot down, crossed, though he has enough discretion to make it look as if he is only backing away. “I have lined them up,” he mutters.

The mercenary’s eyes snap upwards, away from Genji. The rocket pointing at Genji shifts, but Genji has no time to stop it, letting it fire over his head. The shrieking audio input renders him deaf for the five seconds it takes to lunge for the mercenary, sword driving deep into the man’s abdomen while the second blade slashes across the throat. He knows where the mercenary had aimed the rocket, why it had been directed behind him instead of his head.

Genji doesn’t get to hear McCree’s shots over his ringing ears, but he turns around to take quick note of the six dead bodies before he starts sprinting back.

His audio sensors come back online in time to hear the rocket’s impact into the opposite balcony.

This, he thinks, jumping over fallen slabs of concrete and giant cracked asphalt—this is why the high ground is troublesome.

McCree is silent when he falls from the exploding balcony. Genji can see his hands reach out to grab onto a ledge, but it’s already crumbling into pieces. His hand slips, and McCree becomes a blur of vivid red in the air, serape fluttering in the wind.

Genji dives across the broken sidewalk, arms outstretched before he can stop himself.

There is nothing quite like catching a hundred kilograms of armor and cowboy. A second later, and Genji ends up on ground, surrounded by rubble, and McCree in his lap. His cybernetics are not pleased by the impact, sounding out critical warnings—something about strain and arm damage—but Genji is happy enough when his hands still have enough control to tighten his grip as he sits up.

“McCree?” Dust and broken glass spills off them both. Genji lays his hand over McCree’s eyes to block most of it from getting on his face. When he removes his hand, McCree stares back, eyes wide and dazed. Blood from his forehead trails down his face, dripping to his beard.

Genji flicks McCree’s hat upwards, which has a miraculous habit of staying on against all odds. The quick movement causes McCree to blink and lift a hand to his head to tip his hat back into place. He looks up at Genji.

“This is embarrassing. I think I might’ve swooned,” McCree finally says, breathless.

It’s more likely from whatever head injury McCree has taken from falling, but Genji huffs. “And why not? Is this not impressive?”

McCree gives him an unfocused look that appears vaguely sick and very concussed.

“Hm. Perhaps I will ask again later,” Genji says. He shifts a little, testing his legs as McCree starts to wiggle in his arms.

“I can still walk, it’s—oh. Oh, well, alrighty then.”

McCree weak protests die out once Genji stabilizes himself on his own two feet. He has one arm beneath McCree’s legs and the other around his mid-back. For a moment, McCree doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, making a few abortive movements before he resolutely hooks his metal arm around Genji’s neck and presses closer to their center of gravity. It helps. Genji assumes a man of McCree’s size and disposition doesn’t get to be carried very often, much less in a hold that is, for all intents and purposes, a princess carry.

But McCree doesn’t say anything and Genji doesn’t mind for now. He starts walking. Their rendezvous point with Winston and Reinhardt is nearly two blocks away.

“I will make you walk the last block,” Genji says, snickering.

McCree’s arms loosen around Genji’s neck. He frowns. “You ain’t gotta carry me at all.”

His tone isn’t the usual mocking whine or sharp teasing they frequently exchange. Genji looks down at McCree, but McCree’s gaze is elsewhere, watching behind Genji’s back and all around them. He looks solemn, though it suddenly occurs to Genji that McCree has never liked feeling incapacitated or useless. He supposes not much has changed since Blackwatch.

“Ah,” McCree says, sounding relieved. He points at some spot to their left. “My gun.”

He sounds apologetic but Genji hitches him higher and jogs lightly to where McCree had pointed. His cybernetics makes it easier to keep McCree in his arms, but they are both acutely aware that there are better ways to carry an injured man. Better ways that are less entertaining, though. Genji wonders how long McCree will last before his pride gives out.

The gun is, predictably, on the ground. They exchange amused looks with each other before McCree sweeps his free hand out in invitation.

“Now I usually don’t like another person touching my gun, but if you do a squat for me I’ll be very impressed,” McCree drawls.

“No, you can do it yourself,” Genji says, fond, and drops McCree on the ground.

This is how they discover the metal shard in McCree’s right ankle, and how McCree ends up sprawled on the pavement again with Genji crouched over him.

“How did you not notice it?” Genji asks, once McCree’s muffled cursing is over with. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Had a lot on my mind at the time,” McCree says testily. He glances at Genji and prods his chestplate. “And you’ve got a knife sticking outta your left clavicle.”

Genji pulls out the knife while McCree takes care of the metal shard embedded through his boot. They both mutter, though Genji is happy to hear that McCree’s pained grunt had been louder.

With their most serious injuries taken care of, McCree reaches over to grab Peacekeeper, slowly getting to his feet. Genji does a few quick stretches to shake out the soreness, alloyed arms scraping against their new dents, and stands as well. He turns to McCree, surprised to find the other man already at his shoulder.

“Ready?” McCree asks. His expression is a good mix of expectant and resigned.

Genji pauses, uncomprehending, before he realizes what McCree is waiting for.

“Oh. You still want to be carried?” Genji asks, slightly taken aback. He holds out his arms.

Many things happen at once, though the most fascinating one is the color washing over McCree’s face before he ducks his head. Genji stares, expecting a smart quip or sarcastic remark from him—and it’d be easy to make one since it’s all they do, most of the time—but McCree only steps back with his sad limping right ankle and puts his hands up.

“Uh, um,” says McCree, waving them uselessly. He tugs his hat down over his eyes. “Oh, I just thought, uh-”

Flustered. The word pops up in Genji’s mind like one of his HUD warnings. McCree is flustered, which in turn makes Genji a little embarrassed as well.

“It is perfectly fine to enjoy being carried like a princess,” he says, adopting Zenyatta’s kind tone. He has gotten very good at mimicking it. “By me, especially. Anyone would understand.”

McCree throws him a mean look. He is still red to his ears, but he at least he’s stopped trying to wring his revolver to pieces. With one metal arm, he might actually succeed.

“Genji,” he says evenly, “Shut your mouth.”

“You cannot see it.”

“Oh, for cryin’ out—ugh.”

Grinning, Genji sweeps McCree off his feet in a manner very befitting of a princess. He manages a small mocking spin, cut short by one of McCree’s stupidly long legs hitting a crooked streetlamp. It is the injured one, of course.

“Fuck you, fuck Recall,” McCree hisses, grip on Genji tightening. “Shoulda never answered you people.”

Genji laughs, stumbling as McCree shifts his weight, but it only causes them to knock heads with each other, McCree’s warm breath fogging the corner of Genji’s vision before he sways back. Genji regains his footing and continues to walk.

“I think,” McCree begins, leaning in to glare, “you want to carry me.”

The blood is beginning to dry on McCree’s face, clumping his eyelashes and staining his teeth. Genji becomes very conscious of McCree’s broken nose just inches from his mouth. It’s his helmet. It confuses people on where they should look or meet his eyes. Genji bounces McCree in his arms, jostling him to sink lower into his hold. The top of McCree’s hat brushes harmlessly beneath Genji’s chin, and McCree’s stare becomes hidden beneath the brim. Better.

“Woah now,” McCree says, clinging harder, hand going to Genji’s neck. His thumb brushes the rim of Genji’s faceplate.

It’s the helmet again. There’s no sense of space. Genji thinks he may have miscalculated the move after all.

“You are walking the last block,” he says, whether to remind himself or McCree is up for debate.

McCree scoffs. “Carry me some other way then.”

“Hm,” Genji says thoughtfully, as his HUD flashes a red warning, and McCree goes dropping from his critically damaged arms once again.

Later, Winston asks, “Why didn’t you two call us earlier?”

Reinhardt’s huge arms are more suitable for carrying any amount of people. Genji is fairly certain Reinhardt can fit four more occupants within his embrace, but he is too exhausted to ask, and Reinhardt’s arms are very comfortable despite the armor. His body twitches, drained cybernetics making it difficult to even shrug his opinion.

“Listen,” McCree begins, nestled within Winston’s fur. He doesn't get to finish, too muffled by Winston’s hand going over his face as he leaps into the air to get McCree back to base. His hat doesn’t fly off, for some reason.

Meanwhile, Reinhardt booms into Genji’s ear, “I admire your perseverance! Very noble of you to carry a comrade back to safety.”

“Yes,” Genji agrees, voice growing fainter as he hears Reinhardt’s charging engine start to fire. He has seen that thing in action, usually against enemies. His grip on Reinhardt attempts to tighten, but his arms dangle uselessly over his chest, all his energy spent from carrying McCree.

“Are you ready, friend?”

“Yes,” Genji says, just to get it over with.

“I think I may have swooned,” Genji admits to McCree, laying in the next bed over, once they have both woken up in the medbay.

“Y’see?” McCree says.

#mcgenji #genji shimada #jesse mccree #overwatch #I DON'T KNOW.

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kevinpolowy · 6 years

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2018 Golden Globes: Get our instant predictions

Meryl Streep in ‘The Post’ (Fox)

Nominations for the 2018 Golden Globes greeted us bright and early this morning, and there were plenty of plot twists afoot. Given the Hollywood Foreign Press Association’s questionable voting body, it’s always debatable how much a Globe nomination (or win) impacts the Oscars picture, but there’s no doubt that the Globes — the second-most-viewed for screen junkies after the Academy Awards — demands attention. With predictable frontrunners like The Post and The Shape of Water, and not-so-predictable contenders like All the Money in the World and The Greatest Showman, all in play, here’s our early take on who will win the major movies categories.

Best Picture, Drama

Nominees: Call Me by Your Name Dunkirk The Post The Shape of Water Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

This is one of the most wide open Best Picture races we’ve seen in years. Any of these five films could take the biggest prize, as each has their proponents. Dunkirk and The Post, however, seem like the two early favorites, and most conventional choices, with Call Me by Your Name lurking as the potential upset.

Our Instant Prediction: The Post

Best Picture, Musical or Comedy

Nominees: The Disaster Artist Get Out The Greatest Showman I, Tonya Lady Bird

The Musical/Comedy race is easier to narrow down, with two frontrunners in Get Out and Lady Bird (although both Jordan Peele and Greta Gerwig were snubbed in the director category). Expect Get Out to follow in the dubious path of The Martian as the latest non-musical or comedy to win Best Musical or Comedy at the Globes.

Our Instant Prediction: Get Out

Best Director

Nominees: Guillermo del Toro, The Shape of Water Martin McDonagh, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri Christopher Nolan, Dunkirk Ridley Scott, All the Money in the World Steven Spielberg, The Post

It’s hard to gauge Ridley Scott’s chances here, considering the HFPA are the only folks known to have screened his freshly reshot All the Money in the World. As in the Best Picture race, del Toro has a good shot given The Shape of Water leads all film nominations with seven. And you can’t count out heavyweight helmers Christopher Nolan and Steven Spielberg. We’ve got a tough one to call.

Our Instant Prediction: Christopher Nolan, Dunkirk

yahoo

Best Actress, Drama

Nominees: Jessica Chastain, Molly’s Game Sally Hawkins, The Shape of Water Frances McDormand, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri Meryl Streep, The Post Michelle Williams, All the Money in the World

All the marquee categories thus far offer incredibly tight races. I’ll call surprise 2009 winner Hawkins (Happy-Go-Lucky) the early favorite for her extraordinary turn as a mute who falls for a monster in the Globes’ most nominated film, Shape of Water. But don’t overlook two of the greatest in the game: Meryl Streep (for those keeping score at home, she’s up to 31 career Golden Globe noms) and Frances McDormand (who gives her best performance since her Globe-winning turn in Fargo).

Our Instant Prediction: Sally Hawkins, The Shape of Water

Best Actor, Drama

Nominees: Timothée Chalamet, Call Me by Your Name Daniel Day-Lewis, Phantom Thread Tom Hanks, The Post Gary Oldman, Darkest Hour Denzel Washington, Roman J. Israel, Esq.

Finally! An easy race to call. An unrecognizable Gary Oldman gives the performance of a lifetime as the world-changing Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour, and has been the prohibitive favorite from the first trailer… Don’t sleep on the revelatory Chalamet, who announced his considerable talents in Call Me by Your Name, or eight-time nominee/two-time winner Day-Lewis for what’s believed to be his final film role in Phantom Thread.

Our Instant Prediction: Gary Oldman, Darkest Hour

Best Actress, Musical or Comedy

Nominees: Judi Dench, Victoria and Abdul Helen Mirren, The Leisure Seeker Margot Robbie, I, Tonya Saorise Ronan, Lady Bird Emma Stone, Battle of the Sexes

It’s a generational battle among three twentysomethings (Margot Robbie, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Stone), a septuagenarian (Helen Mirren), and octogenarian (Judi Dench). The edge goes to the youngsters, particularly the previously twice-nominated Ronan, who looks primed to make an Oscar run for her stunning work in the coming-of-age rumination Lady Bird. And there’s another contender who could skate onto the podium, it would be Robbie for her assured take on Tonya Harding in I, Tonya.

Our Instant Prediction: Saorise Ronan, Lady Bird

yahoo

Best Actor, Musical or Comedy

Nominees: Steve Carell, Battle of the Sexes Ansel Elgort, Baby Driver Hugh Jackman, The Greatest Showman James Franco, The Disaster Artist Daniel Kaluuya, Get Out

For as much as it isn’t a musical or comedy, Get Out does give Daniel Kaluuya a chance to shine in this category for his largely unheralded work. Ansel Elgort is a major surprise for Baby Driver, likely heisting a nomination from The Big Sick breakout (and cowriter) Kumail Nanjiani. Ultimately, though, it’s James Franco’s race to lose for his transformative performance as midnight movie hero Tommy Wiseau in the hilarious and charming The Disaster Artist.

Our Instant Prediction: James Franco, The Disaster Artist

Best Supporting Actress

Nominees: Mary J. Blige, Mudbound Hong Chau, Downsizing Allison Janney, I, Tonya Laurie Metcalf, Lady Bird Octavia Spencer, The Shape of Water

Octavia Spencer is the only one in the bunch to have received Globe nominations in the past for film acting (she won for The Help), although Janney has five for TV (no wins), Metcalf has two for TV (no wins), and Blige was previously nominated for Best Original Song (for The Help, which she didn’t win). This race will likely come down to the early Oscar favorite Metcalf and potential upsetter Janney, who play two troubled but very different moms in Lady Bird and I, Tonya, respectively.

Our Instant Prediction: Allison Janney, I, Tonya

Best Supporting Actor

Nominees: Willem Dafoe, The Florida Project Armie Hammer, Call Me by Your Name Richard Jenkins, The Shape of Water Christopher Plummer, All the Money in the World Sam Rockwell, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

With no one outside the HFPA having seen All the Money in the World, it’s tough to peg the performance of Plummer (who replaced Kevin Spacey after multiple sexual misconduct allegations). Nonetheless, Willem Dafoe has emerged as the heavy favorite through the early awards season for his celebrated work in The Florida Project.

Our Instant Prediction: Willem Dafoe, The Florida Project

Read more on Yahoo Entertainment:

2018 Golden Globes Snubs and Surprises: From ‘Beauty and the Beast’ to ‘Veep’ to ‘Shape’ Sweep

Golden Globes Nominations: ‘The Shape Of Water’ & ‘The Post’ Tops In Film, ‘Big Little Lies’ Leads TV

The Rock’s daughter, Simone Garcia Johnson, on being Golden Globe Ambassador and dad’s fanny pack photo

#Golden Globes #Awards #_author:Kevin Polowy #_revsp:wp.yahoo.movies.us #News #_uuid:2385bbef-9ca4-3ee0-b6db-df082fb61faa #_lmsid:a0Vd000000AE7lXEAT

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numbertwocontender · 7 years

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Watch the event in all of it’s glory.

The early Ultimate Fighting Championship events were such a success, especially on Pay-Per-View, that there were bound to imitators. Promoters, looking to cash in off the UFC’s popularity, set up a cage or ring, picked a three or four word name, and tried to steal away a part of the UFC’s market share. The vast majority of these imitators ended up being miserable failures, both financially and aesthetically, and yet for some reason these type of events kept popping up, and to some extent still do today. The first of these events was the World Combat Championship.

Background

Christopher Peters, son of movie producer Jon Peters, had previously approached Rorion Gracie and Art Davie, the men behind the first UFC, in 1994 about putting together a promotion to rival the Ultimate Fighting Championship that would be more based in sport, rather than spectacle; Gracie and Davie passed. Undeterred, Peters partnered with Bob Wall, a martial artist with connections to kickboxing juggernaut K-1, and started planning what would be the first, and only, World Combat Championship. The event was scheduled to take place on October 17, 1995 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. The idea behind the event was fairly simple. Two brackets, one composed of four strikers, the other, four grapplers, with the winner of each bracket fighting in the main event.

Enchanted by the grappling majesty of Royce Gracie’s UFC outings, Peters wanted to get a Gracie to build his show around. Initially, he reached out to Rickson, thought to be the best off all the Gracie’s, and even in 1995 was already somewhat of a mythic figure both for his fighting ability and hardball negotiating tactics. Ultimately, Peters was unable to agree to terms with Rickson. Determined to have a Gracie compete in his event, Peters reached out to Renzo Gracie through an ad Renzo had placed in the back of Black Belt magazine. Intrigued by the $120,000 up for grabs in the tournament, Renzo jumped at the opportunity.

Rounding out the rest of the grappler’s bracket were: Ben Spijkers, a Dutch Judoka who won an Olympic bronze medal in 1988 and had fought Erik Paulson a few months prior in the Japanese MMA progenitor Shooto. Mike Bitonio a practitioner of Kapu Kuialua, a Hawaiian martial art characterized by its joint locks, throws, and emphasis on bone breaking. The final grappler, and perhaps the most famous competitor in the tournament was Kenpo Karate stylist and acclaimed Shoot Fighter Bart Vale. Vale was most well known for competing in Pro Wrestling Fujiwara Gumi, a Shoot Style pro wrestling organization that presented itself as a legitimate fighting promotion, despite having predetermined outcomes.

When assembling the striker’s bracket, Bob Wall’s K-1 connections seemed to pay off in spades when both Peter Aerts and Sam Greco agreed to fight in the event. Once K-1 got wind of the tournament, and what exactly a No Holds Barred tournament entailed in 1995, they pulled both of their fighters. Without the marquee names of Greco and Aerts, Peters and Wall had to scramble to fill out their tournament with fighters with less sterling resumes.

James Waring had perhaps the best resume of anyone in the tournament. He had previously held the IBF Cruiserweight title, various kickboxing titles, and had an amateur kickboxing victory over future Heavyweight boxing king, Vitali Klitschko. Though in 1995, Klitschoko had yet to make his pro boxing debut and was almost entirely anonymous to most fight fans.

Erik Paulson’s inclusion in the striker’s bracket was somewhat dubious. Paulson was a Taekwondo black belt, but had been training with the Gracies for nearly a decade and already had already immersed himself in catch wrestling, a style that would become his trademark and calling card in future years. By the time of the WCC event, Paulson had already had 5 fights in Shooto, including a win over the aforementioned Ben Spijkers.

The final two fighters in the striker’s bracket were Justin McCully, an undefeated Muay Thai fighter, and Jerome Turcan, a French Savate world champion.

The Event

The show opens with the above graphic. Showtime, the premium cable channel and boxing mainstay, produced the event. It says something about this event that it took Showtime another decade to try MMA again. Peters later claimed the event was a financial success, but based on Showtime’s ten year sabbatical from promoting MMA and a sparse crowd, it seems unlikely that there is any truth in Peters’ statement.

The show opens with a video package that is as ostentatious as it is hamfisted. Men are seen practicing their martial arts while an unseen narrator rattles off the show’s opening salvo. With lines like “All people are his family, all places are his home ... he is alone, he is a legend, he is a warrior,” and claims that the winner of this 8-man tournament will be crowned “the greatest warrior on the planet.” It is clear that we are in for quite a show.

Our lead announcer, Todd Christensen, a man who looks like a cross between Dan Severn and Dick Butkus but with a hint of Kyle Kinane’s stage presence, opens the show by flubbing the name of the venue. He then introduces the rest of the commentary team. Bob Wall, a karate world champion and one of the events organizers, who can only be described as a better coiffed Councilman Jeremy Jamm, and Tom Murray, who eerily resembles Heaven’s Gate cult leader Marshall Applewhite. Murray procedes to predict/read of an obviously pre-prepared note card that the tournament will come down to Renzo Gracie and Jerome Turcan while blinking an inordinate amount of times.

Christensen then throws to Richard Norton, an Australian actor known for being in over 40 martial arts films, I guess. Norton introduces former WBA lightweight champion Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini, the only person on this broadcast who is notable in anyway. Mancini offers some tropes about fighting being mostly a mental game, and how fights are often lost on the way down the ramp. Norton stumbles over his words and throws it back to Christensen.

Todd runs down the brackets, and then has Bob Wall explain the bracket system and the rules. All strikes are legal except eye gouges and groin shots. The grapplers’ bracket matches will be one 22 minute endurance round with a ten minute time limit on the ground. The strikers’ bracket has identical rules, except with a two minute limit on the ground and submissions will result in a disqualification.

Opening Round Fights

Cecil Peoples is the referee for the entire event, and is dressed for the occasion, wearing the classically stylish look of a t-shirt tucked into sweatpants. However, much to my displeasure, in 1995 Cecil had not yet seemed to have developed his signature knee-lift/arm cross dance to start a round.

Renzo Gracie vs. Ben Spijkers

Both men circle until Spijkers takes Gracie down to the mat. Renzo briefly works a guillotine variation before he begins working for a sweep from the bottom. Renzo uses a butterfly to sweep and brings the fight back standing momentarily before Renzo returns the favor and takes Spijkers down. The two grapple for a bit, much to the chagrin of the crowd, who in 1995 were most definitely shouting out a whole slew of homophobic slurs, until Renzo takes Spijkers back and hits three pretty rough looking elbows to the back of the judo player’s head. Renzo locks in a rear naked choke rather quickly and the fight is over. Ever the sportsman, Renzo disgustedly shrugs off Spijkers semi-conscious body and as an added show of chivalry steps on the back his opponent's neck on the way to his corner. Cecil Peoples grabs Gracie like he’s about to Irish whip him into oblivion, but decides to just give Renzo a stern talking to. Inspired by Cecil’s words, Renzo goes to shake Spijkers’ hand, but Spijkers is still lying dazed on mat, so Gracie’s handshake just looks like he’s half-heartedly trying to drag Spijkers around the mat.

A side note on the whole stepping on the neck deal: apparently Spijkers had been repeatedly calling Renzo’s hotel room in an order to psych him out or something like that, so in the future if somebody calls you a couple times feel free to step on their neck, it’s cool.

Sean McCully vs Erik Paulson

Before the fight, we are treated to a “funny,” and believe me those quotation marks have never been more necessary, vignette that features Sean McCully training and eating food, in order to illustrate the point that he is both trying to build muscle and that he is undersized for this tournament. It is not good.

A corresponding vignette airs for Erik Paulson, who looks like he could be the rhythm guitarist for seminal Florida death metal band Atheist, that outlines his background, it does not feature any of the “comedy” that was expertly showcased in McCully’s video. The commentary team remarks on Paulson’s long hair, which in this tournament is fair game and in the background Anton Chekhov is placing a firearm on the wall.

The men start the fight exchanging strikes, with Paulson using his range to get the better of his opponent. McCully takes Paulson to the mat, and Paulson begins to work for a triangle from the bottom, which in this bracket is illegal. McCully shrugs off Paulson’s weak triangle attempt, grabs his hair, and rains down a headbutt and some punches. McCully moves to side mount and lands some more punches before the 2 minute limit expires and both fighters have to stand up. Paulson again has the advantage on the feet, getting the better of McCully at range and on the clinch. Paulson lands some effective knees while holding McCully’s trunks. McCully decides to flop to the mat and finds himself mounted. Paulson lands some punches before his opponent gives up his back. Paulson lands a combination of punches and elbows mostly to the back of McCully’s head leading him to tap out.

Bart Vale vs. Mike Bitonio

A vignette introduces San Pedro, California’s Mike Bitonio, claiming that San Pedro has a reputation for being a tough place, although the video seems to contradict this statement by showing Bitonio roller skating down the street a few seconds later. Later, the vignette goes onto show Mike training with his instructor, a man simply known as Kaja who looks a lot like Scott Norton’s burnout cousin. After a clip of Bitonio agonizingly riding a mountain bike, he ends the segment by informing the audience that if he wins the tournament he plans on paying some bills.

The focus of the broadcast then shifts to Bart Vale, a supposed veteran of this type of event, you know in the same way my obsession with NHL video games has made me a veteran defenseman. The narrator attempts to make an analogy between Bart Vale and a hurricane, but I was distracted by what seemed to be a very young Chuck Liddell, or some lookalike, being put is some strange submission.

The two men begin the fight with a short flurry of punches before Bitonio drags the much bigger Vale to the ground. Bitonio struggles to maintain half-guard, and Vale uses the opportunity to reverse the position. Vale fights off an armbar from the bottom, and delivers a few headbutts to his opponent. Bitonio’s defense from this positions seems to be running his fingers through Bart Vale’s luxurious period-appropriate hair. Somewhere along the line, Vale has opened up a cut on his opponent, and is now using his chin to exacerbate the cut. Mark Kerr is at home taking notes, thinking of ways to top Vale’s cleft-based offense. Bitonio scrambles and Vale transitions into a standing neck crank. Back standing, Bitonio goes for a headlock takeover, but Vale ends up on top and takes mount. From there he lands some more headbutts and a few elbows and begins to work for a kimura, which he quickly abandons. Vale lands the most meaningful strikes of the fight at this point, throwing some heavy punches from the mount, until Bitonio comes close to bucking Vale off. Vale, not wanting to lose position, goes back to working for a kimura. Bitonio defends by using his free hand to push on Vale’s nose in what looks to be a very unpleasant way, and uses this small distraction to reverse position and end up on top. However, it is all for naught, as Bitonio doesn’t have enough energy to mount much offense and Vale grabs an arm triangle from the bottom to force the submission at 7:10 of the first round.

Jerome Turcan vs James Waring

A rather standard hype video for James Waring airs here. It recounts his Kickboxing and Boxing exploits, and shows him being a dedicated father. He seems like a good dude.

Jerome Turcan’s introduction claims that he is a connoisseur of baroque architecture, savate, and fine art. This is kind of dumb, because we all know that Mixed Martial Arts is the finest of the arts, so the narrator is just being redundant. We see clips of Turcan obliterating people in the Savate World Championships. Following the video, our commentary team breaks down the fight; all of them see it going for Turcan.

The opening section of the bout is fairly uneventful, both fighters stand at range with Turcan getting the better of Waring with some low kicks. Waring clinches his opponent and lands some punches in close before his opponents spins out and both fighter are back at range. The fighters return to trading strikes at a distance, this time Waring is getting the better of the exchanges, pressuring his opponent up against the fence and landing a few jabs followed by a right hook. Feeling the pressure Turcan goes to circle out, Waring follows. Turcan throws two leg kicks, the second one Waring counters with a short right hand to the temple and drops Turcan. Waring swarms, lands a few hammerfists and Turcan taps at 2:35.

Semifinals

Renzo Gracie vs Phil Benedict

Bart Vale had to pull out of the event due to a laceration on the top of is head. His manager, looking like every single wrestling coach in 1995, is out here to explain the situation. Richard Norton, star of over 40 films that surely have been seen by less than 40 people total, calls Vale’s manager Max, despite the graphic reading Matt. Matt/Max is here to tell us that the doctor won’t allow Vale to compete. I don’t mean to comment on Bart Vale’s finances, but if the guy you pay 10% of your money to walks around in a sweatsuit, you may have to find someone else to manage your money. Replacing him is alternate Phil Benedict, who the broadcast tells us very little about, aside from the fact that he is a wrestler. Actually they don’t even tell us that, it just pops up on a pre-fight graphic, but they do tell us he can bench 400 pounds, which I suppose is not irrelevant.

Benedict, in gray spandex shorts, resembles, in some ways, the Incredible Hulk -- in other ways he looks like that weird greaser guy who was on an episode of American Pickers. The announcers basically tell us that Benedict has no shot against Gracie, and at this point in 1995 they are probably right.

The fight starts with both fighters missing with nearly every strike they throw. Benedict gets a bit antsy and throws a wild flurry of punches. Gracie reacts with a single leg attempt and wrestles Benedict to the ground. From there Gracie quickly gets to the mount and starts throwing some stiff punches to his opponent’s skull.Benedict can’t offer much off of his back and eventually taps to Gracie’s strikes.

Instead of stepping on his opponent’s semi-conscious head, Gracie decided to help Benedict up to his feet, which I suppose is better, but when you step on one guys neck you might as well step on everybody’s neck.

We cut back to the announce desk, where the commentary quartet of Christensen, Wall, Mancini, and Murray marvel at Gracie’s technique. Here in 2017, I am marveling at Renzo’s Dorian Grey-esque ability to not age. Christensen then shifts focus to our next fight.

Erik Paulson vs James Waring

As Paulson makes his way to the cage, the announcers again mention his long hair and his decision not to cut it. Chekov, having already placed a gun on the wall, takes it down, loads it, and pulls back the hammer.

Waring runs to the cage, and we get a quick cut to Paulson in his corner. He looks every bit of a person who has been recently headbutted. Waring on the other hand looks fresh. Ray Mancini adds on commentary that while he is rooting for Waring, he thinks Paulson’s ground game will give him an advantage. Mere seconds later, referee Cecil Peoples tells us that grappling is illegal in this bout.

The first minute or so of the fight in fairly uneventful, Warring paws with a jab irregularly and lands two inside low kicks. Paulson seems tentative for the most part, but eventually rushes Waring and pushes him against the fence. Clinched against the fence, the two exchange strikes, Waring mostly punching to the body, Paulson to the head. This goes on for a while, until Waring lands some solid knees in the clinch that cause Paulson to circle out, but not before Waring clips him with a solid right hook to the head.

At range the fight returns to it’s fairly slow pace, with Paulson being a bit more active, throwing more kicks to both the legs and body of Waring, even attempting a head kick at one point. Paulson then tries to take Waring down to the mat, but settles for pressing his opponent against the cage again. Against the fence, both fighters fight for an advantage, until Waring finally seizes on one, in the form of Paulson’s blonde ponytail. Chekov fires his gun and all is right in the world.

Apparently, Paulson had some stunt work scheduled and felt cutting his hair would lose him that gig, instead he just lost some brain cells. Good trade in my book.

With a fistful of hair, Waring lands solid punches and a few elbows which cause Paulson to break the clinch, The two trade sparing strikes for the next few minutes, the highlight of which is Waring landing a solid left hand and Paulson quickly shouting back that it didn’t hurt him. Shortly after, Paulson throws a strong leg kick that Waring checks, and from this point on it is all Waring. He lands with a pair of solid side kicks and then pressures Paulson toward the cage. From this position he again grabs a fistful of Paulson’s hair and begins to unload with strikes. Paulson tries to circle out, but Waring yanks him back by his hair. Waring lands a series of brutal knees, that drop Paulson,but Waring still maintains his grip of hair and drags Paulson back up in much the same way you would pick up a troll doll. Waring lands a few more stiff shots, but then decides to take a bit of a rest. Still holding Paulson’s mane, Waring chooses just to lean up against the cage and regain some of his stamina. Despite Waring’s lack of action, Paulson doesn’t mount much offense. Near the 16 minute mark, Waring finally decides to unload with a pair of knees to the body, and then drags Paulson down to the ground by the hair and lands a series of stomps. Paulson taps after Waring lands a few follow up punches, and the fight is over at 16:07

John Higginson, the ring announcer who looks a lot like Brad Maddox and has a lisp reminiscent of Al Stewart, declares Waring the winner, while his corner, a cross between Guile from Street fighter and a thing Ruben Villarreal politely claps.

Bonus Prelim

Jerry Flynn vs Fred Floyd

Yes, this is WCW megastar Jerry Flynn, trained by Boris Malenko and Karl Gotch, which some people will tell you is impressive, but so was Bobby Blaze and I don’t think he was much of a shooter. Flynn has a mullet that would knock Billy Ray Cyrus’ dick in the dirt. We see Flynn shadowboxing in front of a mirror wearing Zubaz and the narrator tells us some people call Jerry the “Flynn Slam Man.” Who are these people? Who made them this way?

Flynn walks to the cage, and then we are introduced to Fred Floyd. Floyd is a bodyguard, exponent of Budokan Kung-Fu, and all around large man. Floyd claims you have to be a thinker to succeed in an event like this. I am skeptical.

To start the fight both fighters rush to the center of the cage and exchange strikes. Flynn throws a low kick, loses his balance, and Floyd lands on top. From the guard, Floyd lands a flurry of punches to the head and body as well as a few well-placed elbows. Flynn, using a body lock, is able to reverse position and end up in side control. He works for a wristlock from here, but nothing materializes. The two jockey for position of the ground, neither throwing many strikes. In a scramble, Flynn tries to stand up and Floyd lands a nice knee to the body that hurts Flynn. Floyd follows his to the ground, but is tired and sort of just lays there for a bit. I get it man. I want to lay down all the time.

Flynn has a hold of Floyd’s ankle. He’s working for what looks like an achilles lock. PRO WRESTLING. Floyd sorta just turns and is out, somewhere I’m sure Karl Gotch is talking about how tough he is and how he would have killed every fighter ever if only he had the chance. Floyd ends up in North-South position and is sort of just laying on Flynn with his hands in the general vicinity of his neck. Flynn taps proving that while Pro Wrestling is indeed the strongest, it is no match for a fat man laying on you.

Finals

Renzo Gracie vs. James Waring

It is time for the tournament final. Bob Wall calls Renzo the most aggressive Gracie, which at the time is true, but little did he know the aggressiveness with which Ralek Gracie would refuse to pay people who grappled for Metamoris.

The fight starts with both men tentative. Waring paws out with a jab, but only to create separation. Eventually Gracie shoots for a takedown that looks a lot like what would happen if you tried to hit an ankle pick while falling down a flight of stairs. Nevertheless, he gets Waring down. Renzo grapples his way to mount, and gets a neck crank/smother/Arm Triangle. Waring taps at 2:47.

Richard Norton, star of over 40 films, interviews both fighters. They spout cliches, paving the way for many fighter in the future to say nothing of interest following a fight. Richard Norton, star of over 40 films, then introduces Christopher Peters, who looks like the adjunct English professor from you local community college, to present Renzo with a championship belt.

And thus ends the inaugural and final World Combat Championship. It happened and nobody can take that away from them.

#WCC #MMA #World Combat Championship #WCC 1 #Renzo Gracie

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qutemag · 7 years

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The movie guy reviews: Transformers -- The Last Knight

Article by Benjamin Harkin

Here we are. Every critic relishes this review, and many online have already let forth the torrent of bile that Transformers: The Last Knight deserves. Every Transformers movie I go in hoping I’ll be somewhat surprised that the movie reaches a baseline of ‘okay’, and bar maybe the third one which was brighter, more colourful and contained John Malkovich, every time I walk out frustrated and despairing. People say Michael Bay is an auteur – an auteur of what? Glorified tech demos? Showing off what the Industrial Light & Magic team can do? Because that’s all these movies have going for them. This is evident with the multiple aspect ratios, that’s right, IMDb records this movie showing three different aspect ratios, and another place thought the trailer had eight. You have black bars darting all around the image as the movie crops itself to fit around funky new cameras Michael Bay wants to toy with for the sponsorship. It is the weirdest, most distracting shit to see a movie switching aspect ratios all the way through for no discernible reason.

The film feels like six films meshed into one, or perhaps six plot threads focus-grouped into oblivion and smooshed together in a way that made some executive in a high-backed chair shift lazily in their seat to turn off the preview footage and say “fuck it, that’ll do” for the three editors to hastily clip together in something resembling a two and a half hour film. There’s the scene with a post-apocalyptic New York, ravaged after the climax of Transformers 4, with Transformers living in hiding of the anti-Transformers defense force set up to catch them, now that Optimus Prime is paralysed, orbiting the earth in a shell of his former self. Some foolhardy boys break into a ruined stadium with a giant jet engine ploughed into the field, saying self-aware bulldust like “we’re kids, we always get away with stuff!” Yes, that’s a fucking line in this movie. And not the worst by a mile. Then prowling the streets, looking under rubble, they run into a Transformer hiding itself under scrap. Couldn’t radar easily detect the hulking masses like Transformers for the military to destroy? Apparently fucking not, if a Transformer hides among some rubble, that’s a-okay. The kids then run into a girl, a strong-willed, adventurous-sounding 14-year-old who’s making her own way among the debris jungle and a close friend to this Transformer that gets mortally wounded by a fighter jet trying to save the kids. And do you think Bay uses this setup to anchor the film with a young heroine, make a movie that takes a U-turn on everything that the hypermasculine, Megan Fox-ass loving, dumb as a post joke-making crap that has defined his Transformers series? Fuck no, all the boys dialogue towards this girl is along the lines of “wow…she’s hot!” and “Are you single?” Fucking gross and sad is all I can say. Michael Bay can’t wait to get started on the explosions, objectification, and immaturity. The young girl doesn’t do anything of note in the movie, hell, I can’t even remember her name. She gets sidelined at the halfway point, literally left behind in a junkyard with her BB-8 rip-off robot. Michael Bay instead wheels out the contractually obliged Megan Fox stand-in to be the impetus for Mark Wahlberg to do something in the movie and crack a few lines about how single they both are. Wahlberg was probably given acting advice to approach the character by showing a face in deep thought over how utterly hot it would be if he and the Oxford tour-guide Megan Fox stand-in lady banged with the Transformers watching.

“Are you single?” proves to be a theme in this movie, more than any kind of motif or any of the half-mumbled prattling about values that Optimus Prime manages to heave out of this exhaustingly mind-numbing, overbloated movie. Characters are defined by whether they’re single or not, not whether they fight for honesty, or freedom, or love, or caring for friends, or whether they want to be friends with giant robots. Nah it’s the fact that Mark Wahlberg and Megan Fox stand-in in this movie are on steroids and the camera treats them like they’re perpetually posing for Tinder. Characters from earlier in the series, like John Turturro, make manically unintelligible appearances to rant about doomsday situations. A physics scientist gets laughed at when he tells the president the world will end in roughly three days. Optimus Prime manages to awake himself out of being basically a dead robot to shoot himself somehow across the galaxy onto his home planet of Cybertron, which he knows was destroyed but fuck it, why not go there for refuge? And why not fall back to earth if you’re a dead shell of a Transformer? Nah, the logic in this movie is adverse to science or plot logic, or continuity, or good filmmaking, his dead body can float across the galaxy instead! Cybertron is now run by some Sorceress Robot Woman who twists Optimus into getting Cybertron fixed as a planet by colliding it with earth to suck up the planet’s core. Fucking who knows. Cybertron somehow flies across the universe in the time it takes this movie to skim across five other unresolved plot threads, like why Mark Wahlberg has a spiderly amulet thing that’s super powerful and what he is actually supposed to do with it, or what the whole deal was with the three-headed dragon robot that appears at points throughout the film, or why Megatron wants to break out his mates Suicide Squad-style or why the humans are willing to work with Megatron who was the bane of everyone for the previous four movies, or why John Goodman’s cigar-chomping Transformer gets blown up by rockets and falls over, presumed dead as the camera cuts to a new scene, then he just randomly reappears later on, or why Bumblebee fought Nazis in WWII. And the location used for the scene of Nazis being blown to smithereens, full with Swastika banners draped over the looming building? That my friends is Winston Churchill’s house. I’m sure Britain’s favourite wartime leader, known for everything Hitler was not, span so hard in his grave he tunnelled to the earth’s core.

Stanley Tucci plays a drunk Merlin in a flashback to the Dark Ages, for reasons never fully explored, despite being another character in the present for the previous movie. The Great Tucci Retcon. Oh and there’s Anthony Hopkins too. A wisened masterclass of an actor, made remarkably awkward and a total caricature for a man who used to be Hannibal Lector. He’s in this, 110% for the paycheck. Bay makes him say ‘duuuude’ and ‘that’s a bitch-ass car!’ because it’s cool to make grandpa say hip things sometimes. He has a robot butler assistant who’s also a borderline homicidal maniac for reasons that are never explained. He also has a WWI tank Transformer who has ‘robot-dementia’ or whatever which is an interesting concept far too intriguing for a movie this unforgiveably terrible so the Transformer is yet another sidelined idea in a litany of focus-grouped half-baked brain farts.

The entire movie is unfunny, every joke (and there are heaps, all undercutting the otherwise dead-serious grit and aimed at the lowest denominator possible while conscious) hits like a fucking sledgehammer wielded by lemurs on crack, rushed in delivery, painfully without any semblance of cleverness or wit, the setup too predictable and the payoff so fucking moronic, with editing so poor in timing that a joke about the butler robot playing the sweeping Transformer themes on an organ to give the scene a gravitas was completely lost when Anthony Hopkins cranked his sad, demur grimace up to the butler so slow you could’ve gone to the bathroom and back and the joke would still be playing out. I’ve said it once after Pain & Gain and I’ll say it again: Michael Bay cannot direct comedy and he shouldn’t. For whatever reason the gift of a funny bone doesn’t materialise in the filmmaking process.

The fight scenes are meh. Every one lacks any weight because frankly you don’t give a fuck about any of this while watching. You don’t care which Transformer fights which because they’re all so underutilised and shallow that you could probably get more pizzazz in banging your stapler against the computer mouse on a slow day at the office. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how half these scenes of metal clunking against metal were storyboarded. And they don’t mean anything either, Transformers are rarely shown actually being killed, and yet the ones shown dying without any fights or lead-up (because the editing is god-awful and rushed) are full on bleeding weird green blood which is probably too violent for a young kid, which is where this gritty, dark-looking, yet oddly cartoonish spaghetti-works is squarely aimed.

I should probably end this review somewhere. This sounds like a good place. I could go on and honestly, part of me felt the usual catharsis of a critic tearing a big-budget Hollywood mess to shreds, and giving the finger to this kind of spiteful, audience-hating focus-grouped piss that flows through the summer action blockbuster gate from time to time, but another part of me doesn’t feel that catharsis. Instead, a part of me feels a silent rage, because I know this review, or any other review, or any of all the people who happen to see these movies for what I could only describe as sheer self-flagellation and tell everyone else it is complete garbage, it won’t stop Michael Bay making Transformers, and it sure as hell won’t stop the franchise. Somehow this is what gets bankrolled over those millions of other screenplays of what could be great action blockbusters. Michael Bay has said he’s stepping down from the Transformers franchise, but that’s what he always says. Paramount have two more Transformers movies lined up for the next two years, they see this as being able to grow out into yet another expanded universe franchise with Bumblebee getting a spin-off movie. I know this is useless, this review. It’s just words screamed into a void, a void of producers and executives running endless focus groups, workshopping the movies through too many editors and writers and camera lenses for maximum 3D so everyone can spend the biggest amount of dollars possible. Because this is the thing: Michael Bay doesn’t care. Mark Wahlberg doesn’t care. Anthony Hopkins doesn’t care. Maybe the digital effects people care. All the people involved in this production, they watch the finished product and I’m sure that no matter where they thought their part was going, they were a little deflated and depressed by it too, especially the fifth time around, but they can forget about their shame at the end of the day. Because they’re all getting their paycheck and a contract for Transformers 6, and you’re doing yourself out of the $20+ you spent to see this rotten film.

(Transformers: The Last Knight is currently showing.)

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esprit-de-corps-magazine · 5 years

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D-Day: Canada’s three services on Operation Overlord

By Chris Charland

The coming storm

In February 1943, United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, along with their respective advisors, held a high-level conference in Casablanca, Morocco. They were there to discuss the future conduct of the war.

They decided that plans for the re-entry in to Europe must be given top priority and the concentration of forces and materials needed for the forthcoming invasion began.

In March 1943, United States Army General Dwight D. Eisenhower selected the British Army’s acting Lieutenant-General Frederick Morgan as chief of staff to the supreme allied commander of the allied force that would invade northern Europe. Morgan is credited as being the original planner for the invasion of Europe.

Lingering concerns and differences of opinion on Operation Neptune, the assault phase of Operation Overlord, were addressed at the Quebec Conference in August 1943. It was agreed that the invasion of France would take place in May 1944.

On November 28, 1943, General Eisenhower, affectionately known as “Ike”, was appointed the supreme allied commander. His duty was no less than to enter the continent of Europe in conjunction with all other allied nations, undertake operations aimed at the heart of Germany and destroy its forces. Taking into consideration a nearly full moon and the Normandy tides, June 5, 1944, was set as the day for an invasion on a scale that had never before been attempted.

The entire daring escapade was a monumental logistics nightmare. In all, more than 7,000 vessels carrying more than 150,000 troops would have to cross the English Channel to France undetected and arrive exactly on time to establish a beachhead. Once the details of invasion were coordinated, the land forces, under Field Marshal Sir Bernard L. “Monty” Montgomery, put forth the logistical requirements. All allied air operations would be under the command of the Royal Air Force’s Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory

The build-up also had to provide for the debarkation of reinforcements without interruption for five to six weeks after the landing . . . any delay would carry heavy consequences.

The initial landing was delayed by 24 hours to June 6 due to stormy weather, which also indirectly caused the sinking of the minesweeper USS Osprey. Additionally, an American tank landing craft, United States LCT2498, broke down and subsequently capsized and sank in the vicious swell.

Mother Nature, not the Germans dealt the first blows against Operation Overlord. Nevertheless, D-Day and the Allied forces arrived at the beaches of Normandy with full force on the morning of June 6.

Canadian Red Devils arrive

The crack 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion led by Lieutenant-Colonel G.F.P. Bradbrooke was part of the tough and tumble 3rd Brigade of the British 6th Airborne Division whose members were nicknamed “Red Devils”. The Canadian Red Devils dropped into France after 1 a.m. on June 6, an hour before the arrival of the rest of the brigade, with the aim of securing the DZ (Drop Zone), capturing the enemy headquarters located at the site and destroying the local radio station at Varaville. They were the first Canadian unit to arrive in France.

After that, the Canadians were to destroy vehicle bridges over the Dives River and its tributaries at Varaville. Having done that, they were to neutralize various fortified positions at the crossroads. Additional responsibilities included protecting the left (southern) flank of the 9th Battalion as the battalion assaulted the enemy gun battery at Merville. Upon completing that, the Canadians were to hold a strategically important position at the Le Mesnil crossroads.

Remarkably, the Canadian paratroopers had accomplished all they set out to do by mid-day on June 6.

3rd Division’s Normandy adventure

The Canadian Army’s 3rd Canadian Division, led Major General R.F. “Rod” Keller, along with the 2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade under the command of Brigadier R.A. Wyman, formed part of General Miles Dempsey’s 2nd British Army.

The Canadians, numbering just over 14,000, came ashore at Juno Beach. The five-mile wide Juno Beach was divided into two primary sectors, Mike and Nan. In turn, each of these was sub-divided into smaller sections denoted by the sector name followed by a colour. Many heroic deeds were performed on the first day at Juno Beach. The Allies had come to expect nothing less. The relentless pursuit of the Canadian Army’s objectives was measured in human currency; of the 14,000 Canadians who stormed Juno Beach, 340 were killed, 574 were wounded and 49 were captured by the defending Germans.

This was a small comfort, considering planners had predicted a much higher casualty rate.

The 3rd Canadian Infantry Division* comprised the following units:

7th Canadian Infantry Brigade

Royal Winnipeg Rifles

Regina Rifle Regiment

Canadian Scottish Regiment

8th Canadian Infantry Brigade

Queen's Own Rifles of Canada

Le Régiment de la Chaudière

North Shore (New Brunswick) Regiment

9th Infantry Brigade

HIghland Light Infantry of Canada

Stormont, Dundas, and Glengarry Highlanders

Nova Scotia Highlanders

Cameron Highlanders of Ottawa (M.G.)

7th Reconnaissance Regiment

17th Duke of York's Royal Canadian Hussars

Divisional Royal Canadian Artillery

12th Field Regiment, Royal Canadian Artillery

13th Field Regiment, Royal Canadian Artillery

14th Field Regiment, Royal Canadian Artillery

19th Army Field Regiment, Royal Canadian Artillery

3rd Anti-Tank Regiment, Royal Canadian Artillery

4th Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment, Royal Canadian Artillery

Divisional Royal Canadian Engineers

5th Field Company, Royal Canadian Engineers

6th Field Company, Royal Canadian Engineers

16th Field Company, Royal Canadian Engineers

18th Field Company, Royal Canadian Engineers

3rd Canadian Field Park Company, Royal Canadian Engineers

3rd Canadian Divisional Bridge Platoon, Royal Canadian Engineers

Royal Canadian Corps of Signals

3rd Infantry Divisional Signals

Royal Canadian Army Service Corps

3rd Infantry Divisional Troops Company

Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps

14 Field Ambulance

22 Field Ambulance

23 Field Ambulance

2nd Canadian Armoured Brigade

6th Canadian Armoured Regiment (1st Hussars)

10th Canadian Armoured Regiment (Fort Garry Horse)

27th Armoured Regiment (Sherbrooke Fusiliers)

* Units of the Royal Canadian Electrical and Mechanical Engineers and the Royal Canadian Ordnance Corps also provided vital support during the landings.

British units that supported the Canadian landing on Juno Beach

48 Royal Marine Commando

4th Special Service Brigade

26th Assault Squadron

80th Assault Squadron

5th Assault Regiment, Royal Engineers

6th Assault Regiment, Royal Engineers

Two detachments of the 22nd Dragoons, 79th Armoured Division

3rd Battery 2nd Royal Marine Armoured Support Regiment

4th Battery, 2nd Royal Marine Armoured Support Regiment

“C” Squadron, Inns of Court Regiment

“Ready Aye Ready”

The Royal Canadian Navy was extremely active before and during the first day of Operation Overlord.

A force of 19 corvettes was assigned to provide escort service to the many ships and floating docks heading for assembly points on the south coast of England Eleven frigates, nine destroyers and five corvettes were seconded to the Royal Navy to provide an ASDIC (anti-submarine detection investigation committee) screen around the western approaches to the English Channel one week before the invasion date. This was to guard against the constant German U-Boat threat.

Only hours before the invasion, Canadian “Bangor” Class minesweepers cleared shipping lanes of mines and then ensured that the anchorage swept clear. The last part of their assignment was to sweep the lanes for the assault boats, right to the limit of the deep water. While under a moonlit sky, they crept within a mile and a half (2.4 kilometres) of shore, pretty well under the noses of the unsuspecting Germans.

Fortunately, they were not spotted; German coastal artillery guns would have made mincemeat of them.

The RCN’s two landing ships, HMCS Prince Henry and HMCS Prince David, carried 14 landing craft (LCI or landing craft, infantry) to a point where they could be launched for the run into the beachhead. In the British sector, 30 “Fleet” class destroyers, including HMCS Algonquin and HMCS Sioux, provided direct fire support for the landing craft carrying part of the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division after they were launched from the landing ships.

Mines and other underwater obstructions were a constant threat to the landing craft and few escaped without some sort of damage. Leading the second wave were 26 landing craft of the RCN’s 260th, 262nd and 264th Flotillas. These flotillas were carrying a combined force of 4,617 soldiers, primarily from the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division. Six speedy and deadly MTBs (motor torpedo boat) were assigned to patrol the Seine estuary. RCN corvettes would go on to escort additional convoys into Baie de la Seine during the rest of the day. Naval losses were described as “incredibly light”, especially considering how many enemy long-range naval guns and other weapons were still operational at the time of the landings.

The following RCN vessels took part in the invasion of Normandy:

Tribal class destroyer

HMCS Haida

HMCS Huron

V class destroyer

HMCS Algonquin

HMCS Sioux

River class destroyer (British)

HMCS Gatineau

HMCS Kootenay

HMCS Qu’Appelle

HMCS Ottawa (II)

HMCS Chaudière

HMCS Restigouche

HMCS Skeena

HMCS St. Laurent

Mackenzie Class Destroyer Escort

HMCS Saskatchewan

River class frigate

HMCS Meon

HMCS Teme

River class frigate (1942-1943 program)

HMCS Cape Breton

HMCS Grou

HMCS Matane

HMCS Outremont

HMCS Port Colberne

HMCS Saint John

HMCS Swansea

HMCS Waskesiu

Flower class corvette (1939-1940)

HMCS Alberni

HMCS Baddeck

HMCS Camrose

HMCS Drumheller

HMCS Louisburg (II)

HMCS Lunenburg

HMCS Mayflower

HMCS Moose Jaw

HMCS Summerside

HMCS Prescott

Revised Flower class corvette

HMCS Mimico

Revised Flower class corvette (1940-1941 program)

HMCS Calgary

HMCS Kitchener

HMCS Port Arthur

HMCS Regina

HMCS Woodstock

Revised Flower class corvette (1942-1943 program)

HMCS Lindsay

Troop landing ship

HMCS Prince David

HMCS Prince Henry

Bangor class minesweeper

HMCS Bayfield

HMCS Guysborough

Bangor class minesweeper (1940-1941 regular program)

HMCS Vegreville

Bangor class minesweeper (1941-1942 program)

HMCS Kenora

HMCS Mulgrave

29th Motor Torpedo Boat (MTB) Flotilla

MTBs 459, 460, 461, 462, 463, 464, 465 and 466

65th Motor Torpedo Boat (MTB) Flotilla

MTBs 726, 727, 735, 736, 743, 744, 745, 747, 748

260th Landing Craft Infantry (Large) Flotilla

LCI(L)s 117, 121, 166, 177, 249, 266, 271, 277, 285, 298 and 301

262nd Landing Craft, Infantry (Large) Flotilla

LCI(L)s 115, 118, 125, 135, 250, 252, 262, 263, 270, 276, 299 and 306

264th Landing Craft, Infantry (Large) Flotilla

LCI(L)s 255, 288, 295, 302, 305, 310 and 311

528th Landing Craft, Assault (LCA) Flotilla

LCAs 736, 850, 856, 925, 1021, 1033, 1371 and 1372

529th Landing Craft, Assault (LCA) Flotilla

LCAs 1957, 1059, 1137, 1138, 1150, 1151, 1374 and 1375

Per Ardua Ad Astra

It was a maximum effort for the crews of Bomber Command’s 6 (RCAF) Group on the night of June 5-6, 1944. A force of 190 aircraft, comprising Avro Lancaster and Handley Page Halifax four-engine heavy bombers, flew 230 sorties in support of pre-invasion operations. A large number of targets were struck, with particular attention paid to the German coastal artillery emplacements on the beachhead. In all, more than 870 tons of high explosives were dropped for the loss of one Canadian Halifax.

RCAF fighter and fighter-bomber squadrons went into action providing support to the Canadian ground forces as the invasion kicked into high gear. The aerial activity over Normandy resembled swarms of locusts—the planes seemed to keep coming with no end in sight. An estimated 1,000 aircraft from 39 of the 42 Royal Canadian Air Force squadrons stationed overseas took on the aerial support of the invasion with roles ranging bombing, air superiority, ground attack and photo reconnaissance.

The following Royal Canadian Air Force squadrons were involved in pre-invasion activities and in support of the actual invasion.

For more information about the squadrons involved in D-Day, their aircraft and their roles, visit “Who was in the air on D-Day?”

SECOND TACTICAL AIR FORCE

No. 83 Group

39 (RCAF) Reconnaissance Wing

400 “City of Toronto” (Fighter Reconnaissance) Squadron

414 “Sarnia Imperials” (Fighter Reconnaissance) Squadron

430 “City of Sudbury” (Fighter Reconnaissance) Squadron

126 (RCAF) Fighter Wing

401 “Ram” (Fighter) Squadron

411 “Grizzly Bear” (Fighter) Squadron

412 “Falcon” (Fighter) Squadron

127 (RCAF) Fighter Wing

403 “Wolf” (Fighter) Squadron

416 “Lynx” (Fighter) Squadron

421 “Red Indian” (Fighter) Squadron

143 (RCAF) Fighter Wing

438 “Wild Cat” (Fighter-Bomber) Squadron

439 “Westmount” (Fighter-Bomber) Squadron

440 “City of Ottawa” (Fighter-Bomber) Squadron

144 (RCAF) Fighter Wing

441 “Silver Fox” (Fighter) Squadron

442 “Caribou” (Fighter) Squadron

443 “Hornet” (Fighter) Squadron

No. 85 Group

142 (Night Fighter) Wing

402 “City of Winnipeg” (Fighter) Squadron

148 (Night Fighter) Wing (RAF)

409 “Nighthawk” (Night Fighter) Squadron

149 (Night Fighter) Wing (RAF)

410 “Cougar” (Night Fighter) Squadron

AIR DEFENCE OF GREAT BRITAIN

10 Group

406 “Lynx” (Night Fighter) Squadron

11 Group

418 “City of Edmonton” (Intruder) Squadron

ALLIED STRATEGIC AIR FORCE

RAF Bomber Command / 6 (RCAF) Group

408 “Goose” (Bomber) Squadron

419 “Moose” (Bomber) Squadron

420 “Snowy Owl” (Bomber) Squadron

424 “Tiger” (Bomber) Squadron

425 “Alouette” (Bomber) Squadron

426 “Thunderbird” (Bomber) Squadron

427 “Lion” (Bomber) Squadron

428 “Ghost” (Bomber) Squadron

429 “Bison” (Bomber) Squadron

431 “Iroquois” (Bomber) Squadron

432 “Leaside” (Bomber) Squadron

433 “Porcupine” (Bomber) Squadron

434 “Bluenose” (Bomber) Squadron

RAF Bomber Command / 8 (Pathfinder) Group

405 “Vancouver” (Bomber) Squadron

RAF Coastal Command / 15 (General Reconnaissance) Group

422 “Flying Yachtsman” (General Reconnaissance) Squadron

423 (General Reconnaissance) Squadron

RAF Coastal Command / 16 Group

415 “Swordfish” (Torpedo Bomber) Squadron

RAF Coastal Command / 19 (General Reconnaissance) Group

404 “Buffalo” (Coastal Fighter) Squadron

407 “Demon” (General Reconnaissance) Squadron

Conclusion

All in all, Canadian combatants from all three services gave an outstanding account of themselves on the first day of the battle. They would continue to distinguish themselves by dogged determination and selfless acts of heroism, helping write the final chapter and finally closing the book on the Third Reich’s so-called one thousand-year reign.

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