Rhya Hayes is Dead.

November 24, 2009

Because my Team of Avengers killed her.

Right in the face.


I was supposed to retire in 5 days, a gold watch and everything. My wife’s already picked up a couple fat steaks and a lobster to go with it; I could already taste the melted butter. And then four days ago I got a call out to what looked like a standard hit and run. But then someone found a bruise on the kid’s back. Completely by accident too, something to do with some med student or something who had to have his work checked over, bruise didn’t fully form until a day later, and a day later that bruise was a partial license plate.

And of course the plate matches a known mob affiliate, because I was supposed to retire in a week, so why would I find something interesting or worthy like this when I was young and could do something about it.

So another cop ran a work up on our mafia man; turned out that the driver was Don Capelli Verone out for a little pleasure cruise. We found him on a street cam moments before and moments after the kid got hit, so there was no question who had done it, the real question was why. So then we went back to the kid. Turns out our John Doe kid was a rat for the police going to turn states evidence on the mob. So now we had motive, opportunity, and a weapon.

Now we go to trial right?

Nope, because none of it makes sense. Why the hell is a kid who’s about to rat out the mob just walking down the street without a Federal Marshal? Why was a mob boss driving his driver’s car? Why had no-one IDd this kid until now?


Bear says: Kind of a partial story floating around in my head.

It’s old, but you should check this out. It’s hilarious, seriously.

I know I promised to post about my trip, but I need to go pick up my van from the shop.

My interests changed too!

I was Away

October 13, 2009

I went to visit a good friend for Thanks Giving. I have learned many things. I will convey what I have learned to you when I am not in screaming pain.

The first and second seasons of RedVSBlue were comic cold. To this day I still repeat jokes from those two seasons because there were some episodes where I had to pause it for nearly twenty minutes because I was laughing so hard it caused me physical pain. I managed to find some videos on YouTube, definitely worth a watch.

I mentioned in my last post that there was a reason I had to move home, there was a reason that things were getting so bad all around me that I had no choice but to go home. The reason was my sister. See she’s been dating this guy who is just 9 miles of bad road. He’s drug head, he’s in trouble with the three dealers in town for screwing around with their girls, he works 40 hours a week at $20 an hour and is still perpetually broke because he spends his money on drugs, he treat my sister and everyone in my family like crap, and as an added bonus he enjoys ripping people off — He faked a severe back injury after a car accident he walked away from.

In a long story short kind of fashion, “Turd Ferguson’s” bad decisions and her incessant lying to both her boyfriend and his family and then her own family came to a head the night she announced she was moving out. See Turd Ferguson had been playing both sides the whole time. Her boyfriend really is everything I said up there, but she also told us he was a rapist and that he did everything in his power to keep her down. Thing is, she told the boyfriends family that we beat her and abuse her mentally and emotionally and blah blah blah. So when both families met to discuss the young couple’s decision, it was discovered she had been playing both sides the whole time. My sister was obviously upset, she was beginning to reap the whirlwind and for the most part it was her fault.

Her answer was 10 or so T3s and some other strange drugs none of us had heard of.

I found her in the bathroom, and immediately I knew why I was there, why my life had crashed down around me. They told us when we were training for first aid that doing anything involving family was going to be tough, that we needed to be prepared for the fact we might not be able to handle it. I think if being a computer guy doesn’t work out, I’m going to ride around in vehicles with sirens. I handled myself. We got her to the hospital.

Honestly I had assumed the worst was over. After experiencing my sister stoned out of her mind, and having to help a nurse tie her to the bed… I figured it couldn’t get worse… I was wrong.

Turns out Turd Ferguson has been using drugs with the boyfriend, and not just the light stuff either. On top of that, she refused to see counseling, and within three days the whole thing returned back to normal including the part where she spends all her time lying to both sides.

Did you know last night was the first time her boyfriend took her to the movies?

Did you know they’ve been dating for two years?

This shit’s fucked up.

It’s hard to describe what I’m feeling, I’m glad I have my friends to lean on for sure… I just… need to wait, and pray.

It’ll do.

October 3, 2009

In choosing Word Press the thing that initially drew me in was the ease of use in the widget functionality — I think I might have talked about this once before, but bare with me here — as well as the crispness of the posting. I can easily stream media into any blog post, upload new pictures (Did I mention space is unlimited) into the page on the fly, a spell checker (which I quite obviously need) that doesn’t require me to install anything third party… I was pretty happy with what was available to me.

It wasn’t until later that I realized that I have little to no control over the layout. I can change between available themes sure, some times I can even change the image that floats up there at the top, but I have no control of the layout. Granted if you pay a fee you can control the CSS of the site (think of it as being able to control the way the furniture is laid out, but not the actual furniture that you can use) but I can’t touch the base HTML.

This is becoming a problem for me.

I know most people could give a rats ass about changing the layout on their blog. Once they find something they like they may well stick to it for the rest of time… but that’s not me. I used to change the layout 3 or 4 times a year and I had a blast doing it… Now I can’t. I am officially stuck with what is in front of me.

In other words you might have to endure me changing my blog location again :P.

I have found my faith a bit recently. Thanks to the help of my Brother I am starting to get back on my feet in that regard. Things were tough, it was hard, but I realize now that I’ve moved why it had to happen, why I needed to be where I am — I’ll write a post about that another time — and why I still need to be working with Him.

PS: You should check out Wild at Heart, excellent read for any guys out there.

Kind of straight to the point, eh?

It’s been hard the past few weeks. I’m tired, my sleep pattern has gone all to crap as I’m now awake all night and sleep most of the day. I’m angry, I’m stressed, and I honestly think God has taken to picking on me.

The crisis of faith thing is perhaps a bad way to put it. It’s not that I don’t believe He exists, it’s that I’m sick and tired of Him kicking me to the ground every time I think things are on an up turn.

So it’s not that I think he’s not there, I’m just angry at Him. And honestly, I think I have a right to feel angry at Him. Everything has just fucking spiraled on me and it’s done nothing but gotten worse. Now I could sit here and bitch to you guys about how hard my life is, but that’s not really going to help anyone and all you’re going to think is “God I wish he’d shut up.”

So instead, I’m just going to be angry.

Honestly, what is the point? If this is it, just constantly being thrown to the ground over and over and over again, then I don’t care any more.  Listen, I understand part of being in a communion with You is going through trials and tribulations but You need to ease the fuck off right now. You’ve been holding me under water for three weeks and it’d be great if I had a chance to catch my breath.

What did I do to piss You off man? I’m a good person, and that’s not being self righteous either! I do good things for people, I’m there for people, and it’s fucking horse shit that this is the repayment! I’m there for people and I’m willing to help in anything so I should just spend the rest of my life struggling!? Just treading water or drowning!? FUCK YOU!

I’ve been there nearly every time you’ve called, I’ve put my freaking LIFE on the line to save people. I work hard! I give it everything I’ve got! I’ve gone through hell for the past several months and now I’m drowning and I need You to get your foot off my neck. I get it, okay? I get that you’re God and I’m not and this is your deal but… if I mean anything to you, give me a hand.


Just… just five minutes even. If I can just have five minutes of not fighting for every inch that I get… that would mean the world to me. Just… five minutes.

You’ve always been there for me… always. I can… I can feel you in every ounce of who I am I just… I need you to help me okay? I need you to keep me from drowning because I am so far into it right now I can’t get out on my own. You put me here, so please help me get out. I know that sounds pretty bad after I swore at you and got mad at you but… you can’t do this to me… I just… Why? How does it help you to rub my face in it? To rub my face in the ground and just feel like garbage all the time? How?

I can’t believe how depressed and angry I am right now it’s just… unreal…..

Cripes I’m tired.

EDF story continued…

June 4, 2009

“Why did you come for me?” She hadn’t said anything since Justin had set a course, and even before that hadn’t said much. Justin and Derek had both figured that it was from the trauma of only have fragments of her memory restored, but neither of them could say for sure. They were fighters, and healers.

“Are you serious?”

“…Yes” She answers quietly and weakly.

“You were in danger, plain and simple.”

“There were a lot of other people-”

“What do you want Maddy? I put you in danger by bringing you into EDF and I knew your life was in danger so I came to save you, alright? Christ, can’t just be grateful can you?”

“When a man who looks like you,” A wire frame of a man with a shot of red hair standing 10 yards from the pair in the middle of the bazaar starts, “who caries guns like that, and raises his voice to a lady… It can attract all manor of attention.”

Justin kicks himself for noticing the man in the poncho carrying the two large irons before, now he’s close enough to do some serious damage. “We don’t want any problems.”

“I don’t make problems, I solve ’em. The names Garrette, I’m the closest thing to a police officer you’re gunna get on this station.”

“Garrette? Dreggs Garrette?”

The man grins and walks within handshaking range, “I’m honestly surprised you’d remember.”

“You were an Engineer weren’t you? Served under Gilmore on Drimba 5.”

“Worked directly on Laredo, designed most of ‘er automated defenses while the Iron Man project was still undergoing scruitiny.” The two men shake hands, and Madison also joins in.

“What’s a guy like you, doing with shooting Irons like those?”

“Heh, out here you don’t need fancy to do damage. They’re cheap to use and maintain and I don’t have to worry about gettin’ any damned batteries charged. Besides, energy shields don’t block .45s.”

Justin smiles, “I don’t imagine they would, but that’s not what I meant. You were an engineer, not a soldier.”

“You know the motto, every man a fighter. Naw, I ended up working with a blag bag crew call signed Derringer before and after the Resurrection of Drimba 5. Our job was front line stuff, we infiltrated enemy bases and turned their own automated systems against them. Admiral Vargus didn’t let anybody in his crew who couldn’t hold their own in a gun fight, so it was either learn or stick with fixing ships all day. Surprised you didn’t know that.”

“Most of Vargus’ stuff was off the books.” Justin replies with a little more bite than he had intended.

“Must ‘ave took a lesson from you and General Briggs.” Dreggs replies with a lighthearted smile.

Justin chuckles, “I suppose so.”

“General Bragg’s told me about your situation, and I’ve already sent updated programming to my droids standing guard, but if any of ’em give you trouble just tell ’em to contact me or my men.”

“Droids?” Justin cocks a brow.

“Bragg don’t much feel like payin’ people when he don’t have to, so guys like me who’re talented with a wrench and a computer make a decent living here. Pretty much all the security is robotic, save for five or six security personnel, and then two of ’em following the good General around at all times.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now, you two have yourselves a pleasant day.” The man tips his imaginary hat and walks between them. He’s almost out of mind when he turns around and says, “Oh by the way Captain Nemo-”

“Name’s Bear now.”

“Well, that may be so, but that’s not who the lady on deck three is askin’ for.” He replies with a wink before walking off.

They’re coming for me, I know they are. I have to get out of here. I have to.

His hand shifts nervously under his poncho as he watches one of the bartenders eye the other, reaching under the bar for something. Odds were more than even it was a gun, probably a sawed off 12 gauge. Might ’cause some property damage, maybe even take out some of the innocents just wantin’ a beer at the cantina, but they don’t much worry about things like that this side of the border. As long as you’re paid up with the right people you can do as damn well as you please, including amputating a guy from the waist up. It’s that look on his face that really gives it away though. Banditos, mexicans, everyone born south of the boarder gets that look when they’re about to kill. A dangerous ferocity in them that gives them this kind of tunnel vision and something resembling invincibility. But something like, ain’t close enough.

The Westerner draws his twin rugers and moves to his right all at once firing a couple rounds off before the shotgun can even get to waist level. The two bartenders fly back against the wall as the The Westerner slides across one of the tables and lands hard on the dusty wood floors.

Landed too hard. Dislocated something, shoulder’s on fire. Gotta fight past it. There’s more of ’em in the back, and some of the customers might look to take matters in their own hands.

He’s not far off the score as two of the customers take to throwing their beer pitchers, while a third much younger and brasher than the rest draws a pistol of his own. Two to the chest without hesitation; The child may have been too young to know this, but you never point a gun at someone unless you plan to kill them. More employees from the back counter, reaching for the sawed off, but stumbling over each other trying to grab it.

Your mistake.

He doesn’t risk it, he unloads what remains of his ammunition into them watching them fly back, one into the kitchen, and one against the wall in the corner behind the bar. But he’s not out of the frying pan, he can hear them outside and he knows he’s in the fire. Mexican army is organizing outside, screaming something in mexican he can’t understand. He’d been worried they’d find him, he did his best to blend in, but a gunfight in an otherwise peaceful cantina was bound to attract attention. No ammo to speak of he takes up the sawed off shotgun and chuckles to himself as he sees a second holstered in a docker’s clutch. He’ll make his stand.

It ends here. Now. Either they’re going down or I am.


Customers at the Taco Time Cantina had themselves a brief scare with an armed gunman – thankfully he chose mostly harmless air-soft guns as the weapons of choice. It’s uncertain what prompted the assailant, one Greg McConnell, to go into this violent outburst. Several eyewitnesses say he seemed disoriented, unsure or unaware of his surroundings. Constable Falkner was the one who made the arrest, and exited the building covered in sour cream and salsa, rumored to have been shot from the large guns used to dispense the condiments on tacos. While no serious injuries were sustained, Cranbrook Crown Prosecutor Bill Henderson says “We know he’s commited a crime, obviously, we’re just not sure what we’re charging Mr. McConnell with yet.” Longtime friend and room-mate of the 25 year old says “This doesn’t surprise me at all.” saying “He’s always been off his [mind] it was only a matter of time before he grabbed a condiment and did some serious damage.”

Tod Demchuk – Cranbrook Daily Townsman

Read the rest of this entry »

Another Writing Thing.

May 26, 2009

“The once and legendary Captain Nemo,” the man standing at the foot of the docking ramp says smugly, “my my how the mighty have fallen.”
“General Victor Bragg, this is Justin Ball also known as Bear.”
“EDF is no more, so neither is Captain Nemo.” Bear answers coolly.
“Well that’s well and good then, because this is my station, and EDF has no jurisdiction here. You’ll remove your weapons and check them in with the port authority.”
Derek and the rest begin to unstrap their weapons, but Justin merely crosses his arms over his chest. “No.”
“I beg your pardon?” The two security guards that had presumably escorted Victor to the docking bay twitch noticeably. “You should know better than anyone how this works ‘Bear’. You disbanded us remember? Left us to fend for ourselves out here and create our own little worlds. Well in my world there are no weapons of any kind, and since I don’t owe you a good god damn thing you will leave your guns here, or I will have you shot where you stand.”
Bear doesn’t move, he doesn’t even flinch when the two guards raise their weapons slowly, aprehensively, to level on his head. “You served on the Madripor, during the Wright Brother’s incident.”
“… Yes, what of it?”
“It was me who saved your life all those years ago, but putting my own on the line. You owe me and my guns your life, your cooperation, and your respect.”
“You arrogant son of a-”
Bear walks forward until he’s less than an inch from Victor and speaks in a low voice, “You know who I am, you know what I can do. We came for information and we’re going to get it, so now you get to choose weather or not we get that information by tearing you and your little space station apart.” Both men stare at each other coldly. Victor had planned on not being the one to stand down, but even he can hear the nerves of his men rattle.
“Fine, let them have their guns.” Bear turns and looks at the others with a nod. “but I promise you Justin, Bear, Captain Nemo whatever you call yourself… Word one that isn’t prime and in line on my station and I blow you and yours to kingdom come.”
“Agreed.” He decides he had to give him that. He’d already trampled on the man’s ego more than he really wanted, any more and he might not be at all inclined to help them out, even if he’s one of the people who betrayed him. “We need information.”
“Good for you.” Victor rolls his eyes as he’s walking away.
“And the sooner we get it, the sooner we can get out of your hair.”
Victor stops and looks Bear and his crew over for a moment as if weighing a decision, “Fine, I have other business to attend to. Be in my office in one hour.” With that he walks away, his security guards right behind him.
Bear turns to Jay, “Get ‘er fueled and buy whatever you need for repairs.”
“You worried?” Steve asks quietly keeping and eye on Victor and his guards as they walk away.
“Not sure, but I get the feeling we’ll be leaving in a hurry.”
“You don’t think Victor’s the one who sold us out do you?” Derek asks with a doubting glance.
“I don’t know, but he’s obviously got some problems with me and with EDF so I’m not ruling it out. Jay you have the con, hail us if anything goes wrong, grab Jamie in engineering if you leave the boat. Steve you’re with Derek, Madison you’re with me, nobody walks around alone, understood?” They all nod in reply, “Good, see you guys in an hour.”