 |
 |
 |
 |
|
| Author |
Chapter |
Thunderbird
Elder
Joined: 13 Sep 2009
Topics: 104
Posts: 2139
Location: Rising from the ashes
Items
Legends
37957 Fables
Strata-gems
|
 Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2011 7:55 pm Post subject: Heavy Metal - Chapter 25: Near-Light Speed |
 |
|
Heavy Metal
Chapter 25
Near-Light Speed
Capped with a ring of razor-wire, a tall stone wall separated the backyard of the Las Vegas Police Department from the rest of the city. Just behind the station jail were large landing pads for the helicopters that had, for years, proven to be an invaluable asset to the force. This region was divided off from the nearby impound yard by another stone wall and checkpoint, beyond which a huge graveyard of confiscated vehicle husks gathered from all corners of the city of sin.
Under the mid-day sun blazing down from the cloudless, azure dome overhead, only one chopper currently took residence on the helipad. The skin of the technological marvel was so dark that it seemed to sponge up the sun’s light like a vortex portal into the heart of a black hole. Appearing similar to an Apache helicopter, its angles reminded one more of the Stealth jets developed in the top secret laboratories just a few valleys away at Area 51, a shared birthmark of common origins.
Nevertheless, the Mobile Headquarters, as this hyper-advanced helicopter had been labeled, represented technologies far more developed than even that of the line of Stealth bombers and fighters that had appeared to publicly justify all the work at that super-secretive military facility. Its capacity for velocity didn’t merely press the known boundaries of modern aviation, it outright shattered them.
It tore the envelope open so far, in fact, that when the first version came off the assembly line and was put to test, it didn’t last a week before its hapless pilot flew the craft into the side of Mount Krakatoa after a brief, but bewildering unfortunate blinding as he passed through clouds above Hawaii.
The designers had managed to bypass the need for the pilot to be concerned with the limitation of G-forces by surrounding the craft, even propelling the vehicle, via a nearly invulnerable bubble of electromagnetic force. Its appearance as a helicopter was merely a ruse to ensure that this military secret would be capable of remaining one while travelling within sight.
Upon engagement of the electromagnetic shell, passengers would feel an initial disorientation and nausea until growing accustomed to the experience.
However, while it flew, even at its most blinding maximum velocity, a rate of travel that could approach light speed even through the atmosphere, those within would feel no sensation of gravitational force aside from a familiar pull into their seats as if sitting on a couch at home.
But the pilot required top notch reflexes to properly navigate near the surface of the planet enough to make such speeds useful. Computer systems even proved far too slow in processing to manage it safely.
“Near light speed is just too lethal for a vehicle,” some argued. Those voices clamored for velocity limitations to be built into the vehicle for safety’s sake. But the military isn’t in the business of safety as much as it’s in the business of strategy, national security, war. And the lure of nearly infinite speed capacity was too golden to inhibit.
But the discovery of this amazing new manner of flight came as a result of back-engineering a much larger find, a treasure trove of scientific advancement that represented quantum leaps in the medical industry as well. Owing to the same extra-terrestrial source of knowledge, a means was introduced to reconstruct nerve systems with a hardwiring that sacrificed all sensation of touch for a fiber-optic, light speed driven, set of top gun reflexes.
Coupled with a direct release valve that could inject an immediate shot of adrenaline to the decision making regions of the brain, it was determined you could grant a man the temporary capacity to fully react at the rates of speed necessary to adapt to piloting such a craft.
But it would be considered too great a cruelty and too risky an investment to rewire a living person in such a manner unless they were working with a case of complete paralysis combined with full consent, a track record of impeccable service, and a pilot’s background.
Cassius Sternheim found the perfect individual in Darren Whimple, a Navy pilot downed over Bosnia. When they found him, half alive and paralyzed from the neck down, shell-shocked by explosions that had rained down around him after his shredded parachute had given out it was considered miraculous that he could be nursed back to health enough to communicate with a headband that could read his brainwaves to interpret messages on a computer screen.
He could hear well enough and his eyes were good, but aside from most of his cognitive functions, his nervous system was already dead and rotting within its abandoned passages, leaving most of his body a limp marionette for his caretakers. There had been no need to prod the patriot to express a willingness to attempt a return to service via cutting edge medical test procedures.
Now, years after a successful Top Secret operation and recovery, Darren Whimple, alias Stickman, had nearly grown to become one with his Mobile Headquarters. And he wasn’t about to allow any enemy to approach his second skin without the fight of their lives on their hands.
He watched as his goat-man companion, Kape, disappeared into the same back door into the station that all the police officers in the area had vanished through when the sirens that indicated a prisoner was attempting escape had begun to blare. He nodded at Kape, wishing his medically miraculous brethren good luck in fulfilling their leader’s mission to extract the superhuman savage known as the Bouncer from holding. General Sternheim was within, waiting on Kape’s superhuman strength to aide in carrying out the body of the Bouncer, another result of military experimentation, in this case, experimentation gone wrong.
The police had been foolish to believe they could hold the Bouncer and the Prospector, both superhuman servants of a mysterious Vegas local and global political figure known around town as ‘Lucky’ for his rumored Devil’s Fortune, an inability to lose a bet.
The Prospector himself had turned out to be a zombified immortal, purportedly empowered by Satan himself. But more dangerous, still, was his best friend, Billy, who had, in death, become the old miner’s ghostly gun-fighting companion, summonable whenever the lights went out. This duo was currently ushering death upon any officer of the law that had been so unfortunate as to be on duty at this time, rushing into the jaws of devastation in a futile effort to keep the Prospector incarcerated.
But Stickman had his own concerns to address. Just before Kape had been called to duty inside the police station, a security system established on an eye in the sky, a satellite devoted to use by General Sternheim’s Future Combat Systems Division, had detected unwanted intruders approaching the perimeter of that tall stone wall surrounding the police yard.
Showing up as red lights on the interior of Stickman’s goggles, he could track their movements from behind the wall. But the satellite’s abilities to track and deliver awareness of such intrusions only began there as an initial alert system.
Using the nearly impervious shell of the Mobile Headquarters for cover, Stickman trained his fully automatic pistol on the two glowing red dots that had intruded into the car yard beyond the inner wall. They appeared to be hovering there, taking defensive and hidden positions and lying in wait to stage some kind of ambush.
What are they waiting for? Darren wondered as he whispered into his com device, “Mother, can I get a visual beyond that wall yet?”
A hushed answer came from a robotic feminine voice from within his skull, projected there by a sonic technology in his helmet that produced sound from the inside of the brain rather than from any speaker. “I nearly have the intruders triangulated and an image locked, but I remind you Chief Warrant Officer Whimple, you will be watching these images with a second or two of timelapse. What you will see will be the objects displaced in time.”
“I doubt anyone else would be concerned by that, but a second or two sure seems like a hell of a long time to me, Mother. I’ll remind myself that these images are unreliable then.”
“They are primarily for the purpose of advanced, unmanned reconnaissance, Chief Warrant Officer Whimple,” returned the feminine computerized reply.
Flickering into view on the inside of Stickman’s goggles, an image of the terrain and environment behind the dividing stonewall manifested.
“Yeah, I’m liking this,” the thin black man smiled as his eyes immediately flicked to the locations of the two red ‘dots’.
By projecting a mental intention, an experience reminding him of his post injury limitations, he zoomed the view through a number of intervening cars and trucks in the impound yard to witness the duo slinking in the shadows.
Both were armed with handguns. One of the individuals, the one at the fore, was robed, but where Darren could see glimpses of the creature’s face, was the revelation of reptilian inhumanity. Gold, scaly skin on a misshapen visage framed slavering fangs and cruel, beady eyes. The other, behind him, a dark-haired young woman in excellent shape and grungy street clothes gripped at an injured shoulder. Her face was a painted scowl, however, and even from this distance, through a wall and a line of cars, Darren could tell she bore a warrior’s determination. She seemed to be whispering into a blue-tooth earpiece.
“Mother,” Darren inquired of the HQ computer once more, “Can I get an audio on their location?”
“I’m one step ahead of you Chief Warrant Officer Whimple,” she answered as she relinquished her verbal presence in his skull to allow him to ‘hear’ whispers from the woman on the other end of the yard, and the replies came through as if he, himself, wore her earpiece.
“What’s going on now?” the Hispanic girl asked into her phone.
“Well, according to the security cameras inside, Harold and Billy are turning the halls into a bloodbath,” stated the calm, cynical voice on the other end. “More importantly, the outdoor cameras show that the goat creature has gone inside but the pilot still seems to be trained right on your position. I’m not sure how he’s aware of you yet but it’s like he’s looking through the walls at you. I’ve heard of technologies these guys could be using for this sort of thing but I’ve never actually seen it in use. I’m working on some devices of our own at the moment though so hang on. Trying to see if there’s something I can have done about that.”
Stickman was roused from listening to the feed by a sudden shudder through the ground as the building behind him shook and a distant portion of the back wall shattered into blasted rubble as the rest of the building sloughed off spackle, dust from the gutters, gravel around the yard jumping and skittering over the rumbling earth. Apparently, Sternheim had just created an exit.
“So what do you want Mohave and I to do now then?” she huffed in impatience. “Do we just stay here or should we move in and attack?”
“Well, you’re not going to get a jump on the pilot I don’t think,” the voice said in thought. “Looks like the military man has just reached our friend, Tyrone. I’m REALLY going to have to study up on what his operation is all about now. The Bouncer had explained something of this man to me but only what little he really knew. These guys actually made our rubbery meat-monster you know? And the Dark Lord has given me extremely sketchy details but apparently the greatest of our enemies is prophesied to come from that operation.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that, Luck,” she hissed. “But how are we going to get Tyrone out of here?”
“Well, get Mohave in a position to ambush now, just behind the wall. You’re injured so unless you think you can really add to the fray without getting yourself caught, I want you to stay out of this one,” the voice commanded casually until suddenly shouting, “OH HO! Man down! Jeez… It’s like the Prospector’s ankle plus that goat-man’s hand equals an unconscious Prospector…”
Feeling like a gleeful peeping Tom, the Stickman couldn’t help but chuckle despite noticing how the girl tapped on her lizardly companion’s shoulder, gesturing him over to the wall with the instructions, “Go get ready to ambush them!”
But just as soon as the robed reptile began to move in his awkward slithery gate towards the checkpoint between the impound yard and the helipads, the image and audio feed suddenly went loudly static and snapped out entirely!
“Mother!” Stickman hissed.
“I’m sorry, Chief Warrant Officer Whimple, the feed has been cut by radio interference located somewhere in the ionosphere. I have no contact to the Eye at this time.”
“Damn,” he swore. “Somehow, I doubt this is just coincidence.” But at least he had learned the two things of greatest strategic importance, that there was a reptilian warrior with a handgun about to attempt to ambush the Headquarters as soon as the General and Kape dragged the Bouncer out of the jail, and that Sternheim and Kape were on their way now.
“So it’s up to me to address these folks then huh? Interesting to know that they are watching me as much as I was watching them. Mother,” he addressed, “can you still show me the locations of all the security cameras in the yard?”
“I still have the region imaged. Of course, Chief Warrant Officer Whimple.” Glistening red dots appeared all over the area highlighting the locations of the rotating camera eyes. Within moments, and ten rapidly issued shots echoing between the stone walls, Stickman could believe, thanks to those lenses hanging from shattered hinges, that he’d evened the score.
He’s not going to leap out until Sternheim comes out of that rubble with the Bouncer in tow, Stickman reasoned as he darted across the yard to the dividing interior wall, and that will be right around the corner I’d say.
True to the expected timing, Sternheim indeed charged through the smoking ruin of the back of the jail, Kape hot on his heels with a larger than human sized cocoon hefted on the goat-man’s shoulder. Smiling, Stickman put his back flat against the wall, holstered his pistol and drew two small black rods from the cargo pockets of his black leather flight pants.
Clacking the two rods together made them extend into twin four-foot long poles with a static blue crackling at the steel balled tips. Tapping the ends together, arcs of zapping electricity streaked from one to another, sparking out like connecting the nodes of live car battery cables.
Smiling, Stickman made one last preparation for battle, biting down hard on the tip of his tongue to indicate the needed release of adrenaline to the brain that brought time into a gelling slowdown.
Within moments, Sternheim’s shouts of, “Go, go, go!” were issuing out so slowly they sounded like a record player coming to a final rest after being shut off in mid-play. As expected, the snake-man had begun to slither into a leap around the corner, holding aloft a handgun leveled at the General’s chest.
A blast slowly erupted from the end of the pistol and Stickman watched as a small metal nugget protruded from the barrel, thrust forward in a fiery conflagration. But the projectile had no hope of further progress.
Darren had neared close enough to the edge of the wall to be right there as the snake man emerged. He swung down with his right spark-staff, smashing the lead ball in flight and sending it off on a trajectory directly into the ground at the two combatant’s feet.
Stabbing out with his left spark-staff, he jabbed the animalistic humanoid in the throat, engulfing the serpent’s head in a swath of sparks and arcing passages of electricity.
Though it seemed like nearly forever for the effect to truly take hold, Stickman merely held the steel ball at the end of the staff to the flesh of his foe, rolling it up to the snake-man’s temples until the serpentine figure’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, venom beginning to sprout from the creature’s fangs in a fountain of involuntary spray.
Unwilling to dare getting any of the drops on his skin, and not wanting to slow down the General’s retreat, the Stickman turned and darted back to the chopper, fighting hard against the thickness of the air at this speed. It was like swimming through mud to run at this rate, but he knew no other person around could match him in an outright sprint.
But also, from previous experience, this effect would be short-lived, and the more he exerted himself during slowed time, the more sick he could make himself when he stepped down from this heightened state. And he still had some piloting to do.
The Stickman would be capable of this sort of reaction speed multiple times in a day if he could manage to keep his heart intact by staying as calm as possible during it. This was extremely functional for a pilot, but not so great for a warrior, despite how ultra powerful his abilities could be in a conflict. Such fights needed to be few and far between and he’d already met one man, thanks to some of Sternheim’s additional ‘medical tests’, that could nearly match him in speed under the right conditions so he remained humbly aware that even as fast as he could be didn’t automatically ensure his invulnerability.
Leaping into the pilot’s seat, he pressed a button to open up the side of the HQ so Kape could shove the cocooned Bouncer into holding, leap in, turn and pull Sternheim up after them as the reptilian man twitched in the dust in the distance.
Before long, the chopper was lofted into the sky and gaining altitude fast.
~
“Damnit, Lucky!” the olive skinned girl called Cactus hissed into her blue-tooth headset. “Some kind of sparking blur just took Mohave down and left him in the dirt!” Running up to her fallen companion, she had to hold her hand in front of her eyes to keep the sting of the desert dust from tearing apart her retina as the massive black chopper in the center of the helipad yard began to lift off in flight, the side door sliding shut, blocking out the last glance she had of the cocooned ally she knew to be the Bouncer.
“They’ve got Tyrone!” she spat. “I didn’t think we could ever lose when we were working for you!?!”
“Who’s to say we’ve lost sugarplum? I find that when things don’t seem to be going my way, it’s simply because something better is about to take place as a result. And yes… there it is. Make sure Mohave is going to be alright and then go get the device from the Prospector. I’m looking at him now. I think he got something of key importance off the General’s belt just before he went down.”
“He’s alright then?” she asked.
“Yes. The camera’s inside are showing me that he’s on his feet and inspecting some sort of device. I think he’ll come out and meet with you shortly so all you have to do now is get all of you to me.”
“So where to now then?”
“I’m pretty certain I can take a fairly informed guess as to where the General and his men are headed now. We’ll have to move fast to meet him there but I think, this time, its critical enough that I come with you. I’ll meet you just outside the city.”
“And how do you propose I get there? You want to send me a cab again like how we got here?”
“I’m going to say I think that red Corvette behind you should have plenty of gas in the tank and a set of keys the pigs couldn’t find located just under the… erm… gas tank. Give it a try and let me know if you have any further trouble.”
~
Parking his gurgling hog at the end of a long gravel driveway, wiping his brow from the beaming heat of the desert, Thomas loaded himself up on a quick weapons check before sneaking in through the cactus fields to approach a lonely farmhouse and decrepit wood barn.
As he approached, his eyes glowed as they recaptured and replayed the scenes tracing the arrival of the brown truck, now visible at the side of the barn, from the moment it pulled up the driveway at the crack of dawn that morning. Rewinding time before his eyes, he watched as the old woman at the door angrily confronted her equally elderly husband, collapsing in tears in the gravel, the dark haired youth sprinting for the barn. What was in there? Thomas wondered.
But as he continued to sneak onto the premises, watching the scenes as they had played out, watching as the hourglass shaped vessel was wheeled into the center of the gravel driveway, watching as the old man emerged from the barn in the garb of an astronaut, watching as black suited government agents snuck in ambushing the fuel thieves just before flight, the picture of the purpose of the fuel had begun to emerge.
How on Earth could such a simple fuel source power such a strange vessel? Have these guys made this thing from scratch in a private venture? How is this possible?!? And what did the Bouncer and Lucky have invested in this project to make sure it was possible? Surely, they weren’t looking for financial gain in this? Furthermore, Thomas paused to puzzle, WHY did they risk the failure of the project by staging such a vastly public theft to overcome their final barrier to flight when surely Lucky could have arranged the purchase of the fuel in thousands of ways across hundreds of capable contacts? As one of the very Lords of the Earth now, surely this little independent project could have been far more funded if Lucky wanted it done. How very curious. Did the Devil’s right hand man take notice of something that was already in progress here and just come to aid at the last minute? Or did he even intend, perhaps, to use this whole event to some political or strategic end? Am I, in fact, walking into some sort of a trap right now?
The priest’s mind whipped into a storm of whirling curiosities. And the dust devil of inquiry only thickened as he watched the ship take off, entirely unlike a rocket. Some sort of new anti-gravity type of technology, eh? Again, though, how does Lucky intend for this to benefit him and why would he want such attention drawn to it? Surely the police will be here soon after connecting a few dots in the theft case.
At that, he was reminded of the agents. As he approached further, watching the scenes that had transpired after the liftoff, it appeared that the agents must still remain on the premises. In fact, one must be in the house with the old lady right now while the other, the imposing black one must still be in the barn with the youth. Thomas was getting close enough to hear the wave radio in the barn undergoing constant adjustments.
Silently, he slunk up to a grimy window in the barn and looked within, shutting off his ‘Hindsight’ and enabling his ‘Spiritsight’.
Once again, the young man with lengthy black bangs hanging down across his eyes radiated no taint whatsoever. This was a pure soul and there were so very few left in the world. It didn’t have a quality that suggested one untested either, which only went to confirm Thomas’s belief that this was a man worth aiding in whatever his endeavors, making the whole project he and the old man were involved with an even greater enigma.
The boy sat in an office style chair in front of three screens and an elaborate, if not extremely home-crafted, technological control center. The whole of his desk was a mess of cables and wires, radio dials and readouts. Thomas had taken note of a large white dish on the other side of the barn and he was quite certain the dish was being used to maintain, or in this case, attempt contact with the old man piloting the craft. But the boy seemed frustrated, slamming his fists against the desk intermittently as he labored to try and get a signal. His readout screens expressed nothing but white fuzz and electric static.
The black agent paced the barn in the dust behind the young scientist. Thomas gasped as he got a clear look at the ‘agent’. Turning, the presumably government employee cocked his head and approached the window as Thomas slunk down and crawled through the grass to hide behind the back of the barn, his heart racing in a fear of the unknown.
Thomas had faced horrors of all kinds, demons from other realms with acidic blood, venom that flowed from razor sharp spigots for teeth, beasts with batwings and herculean strength. But they, like any other living creature he’d encountered, had always had an aura, an unclean and darkly crimson aura perhaps, but an aura nevertheless.
But this agent was void of such an aura entirely. It was like the zoot-suited man didn’t even really exist, somehow. Either that or he could be an automaton, a robot, or a golem of some sort. Or perhaps he had some technology on him to suppress his aura somehow.
But regardless, the priest had never been prepared for this and could not hope to gauge the possible threat such a ‘faux-man’ could be.
And, he reminded himself, there was another companion agent in the home as well with the old woman. Was he equally aura-less as well?
Ok, so now what? Thomas wondered. Should I go in and attempt to engage in an encounter with these agents? Which one should I approach? What are my questions if I do? This is nothing like what I expected to find but I’m really curious to know more. And what do I tell the General? Obviously, I should let him know what I’ve found and where I am, sure, but should I try to learn more about what’s afoot here first? These agents seem to be holding these two civilians hostage to a degree and I’m not even sure they really are what they seem to be. And it could be a trap Lucky has set for me specifically. Lucky could have staged the whole theft just to get my attention only so I could fall prey to these aura-less men who could be somehow prepared to deal with my powers.
He quietly offered a prayer, “Lord, show me the light and the way.”
What will Thomas do now?
_________________
      
 CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...  
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Muaddib
Comrade
Joined: 31 Dec 2004
Topics: 30
Posts: 1765
Items
Legends
1762 Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2011 8:57 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Great addition. I loved the description of the tech in the beginning. I always love hearing about new propulsion tech.
I say that Thomas should try and help the civs. But more than that he needs to learn more about what's going on.
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Cyberworm
Respected Citizen
Joined: 19 Aug 2007
Topics: 5
Posts: 652
Location: Spatially found, temporal lockdown.
Items
Legends
2410 Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2011 12:25 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Since he asks for God, and he gets us readers, I say we examine this from the omnipotent POV. 
First, the other agent, Danforth, appeared more human-like than Johnson, who stayed in the barn with Dave. I say that Thomas must first gather intel from Sternheim, maybe he knows about those guys. The civilians are temporarily safe.
Oh, by the way, I finally caught up. It was a very good read indeed, and check your inbox in a few minutes. Keep up the good work!
_________________
Slit and Slide
One man's journey through the possibilities of solving what he says is a murder. What was it? Try not to forget.
Beyond Good and Evil
Could it be that being good is not good at all?
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
Tikanni Corazon
Honored Citizen
Joined: 25 Oct 2009
Topics: 75
Posts: 1286
Location: Running through the plains of my mind, my wolf spirit at my side (but doing so in the UK!).
Items
Legends
18382 Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2011 11:58 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Hey TB!
Sorry it's taken me a few days to get to this, I've not been well. But now that I have, I enjoyed it, as always. 
It's interesting that we're suddenly going back to where it all began. In fact, I'd almost forgotten about Betty and Dave being pretty much held hostage back on earth, and it had hardly occured to me what significance that might have on future events. I guess I thought they were merely government agents of some kind who'd heard about the operation somehow, and were keeping an eye on things. But finding out that they're likely going to be much more than they seem is adding yet another cleverly weaved element into the mix. Looking forward to seeing where it will lead.
I do really like the character Stickman more and more as the story progresses, and more layers are added to him, if you get me. Didn't even occur to me that he would be anything but a normal, if highly skilled, helicopter pilot. Very well done, and looking forward to reading more about him in future chappies!
DP wise, I'm going to say that Thomas should be cautious for now. He needs to find out at least where this other agent is, and what he's actually doing at this moment in time. Get over to the house to check on Betty, and find out if the other agent is auraless, like the first. At least Thomas will then know fully what he's dealing with, and can plan on from that.
Fab, and looking forward to the next one!
_________________
.... there is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all a sham....
Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, 1887
 
 
  
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
sanamgulzar
Visitor
Joined: 27 Jan 2015
Topics: 0
Posts: 1
Location: Pakistan
Items
Legends
12 Fables
Strata-gems
|
| Posted: Tue Jan 27, 2015 11:55 pm Post subject: Re: .post_title Overflow Issue |
|
|
How on Earth could such a simple fuel source power such a strange vessel? Have these guys made this thing from scratch in a private venture? . . . .
________
We offer best quality learn spanish free questions and spanishprograms.com to help you in the real exam georgian test papers and materials.
|
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot vote in polls in this forum
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
