He caught his breath from the laughter for a moment "there's no way!".

She nodded, lips tight and a devilish grin on her face.

"That's genius, incredible, Monsieur Incroyable even!" she laughed at the little joke as he carried on "Utterly so Josh.  Brilliant".

They fell silent, crossing the bridge as the odd car whirred past, she hummed a little and kicked a small stone.  He whistled tunelessly, imagining the scene, and suddenly realized he was alone.

Turning around there she stood, still, looking out across the water.  Light breeze catching her hair and city light reflecting on her face and... she looked annoyed?

"Josh isn't the only thing we have in common you know?" not forceful.  It came out like a spoken thought, an inquisition, almost wistful.

He stood and felt the blow.  As if to fill the void uncertainty flooded in, no that wasn't right, complexity.  The view shifted, his damn lizard brain couldn't help but notice things, the silliness of that frumpy dress wasn't quite so silly or frumpy now.  Why was there sudden temptation?  And the chill creeping in that only now highlighted the self perpetuating warmth that had been there a moment before and nostalgia for that moment and...  Wait, nostalgia?  You can't be nostalgic for 5 seconds ago, can you?  Get a grip.  But then everything that was so comfortable, the ease of talking of having a friend, oh why did it have to suddenly become complex?  As the realization dawned that in a single small defiant act and broken whispered statement everything had changed whether he wanted it to or not he noticed the small tear, just as she wiped it away with her cuff.

She turned her head to face him.

The Fold

Mercs Mission 1 (COVER)

He regretted sitting down immediately.  Legs sticking to the ancient and clearly unwashed vinyl the waitress was already marching over ready to dish sass if nothing else.

"Piotr" he managed weakly.

"Good to see you" grinned the greek putting down his coffee "You remember Sole?"

"That crazy bitch?"

"Hey!  Mind your language or you're out." the dominwaitress had arrived.

"S..sorry!" he managed.

She examined him with a beady eye for just long enough to feel uncomfortable and for the distinct feeling that she could probably serve ABH with a side of GBH if he tried anything again. "Ok then.  No harm this time.  What'll it be?"

"Just a coffee, no sugar." and then the plaintive "Please" and "Thank-you".  She nodded, made a single far too aggressive tick on the pad before putting it away and left.  Probably a tally for the weaklings she'd dominated today he though.  Piotr rolled his eyes to heaven in mock thanks, clearly trying his best not to laugh.

This time it was a whispered hiss, leaning forward "That crazy bitch?"

Piotr nodded "You know how to pick em." he continued mildly "Ran into her yesterday, or I should say she ran into me, into my garage to be precise...".

Oh this was bad. Sole, or Soledad had been a girlfriend who'd picked him up five years prior.  To be precise she'd picked him up tagging overpasses and given him a caution at the time that he'd managed to parlay, with some luck into a first date with the fresh faced young officer.  He'd thought this would be a get out of jail free card, she thought she could reform him with a military style bootcamp of her own making.  It lasted an eternity.  Ok, maybe not an eternity but all of five weeks that stretched out to consume all possible futures while it was happening.  In the end he escaped through the bathroom window and hid for the next six months in Piotr's basement.

Don't trip

Testing some tones, Dual Rectifier rackmount.

Which is which? Three guitars, two built by me.

Lumiaalto #001, bolt-on telecaster with EMG's, ash body, maple neck
Lumiaalto #004, bolt-on strat with EMG's, ash body, flame maple top, maple neck, ebony top.
ESP Stef B7, neckthrough 7-string with EMG's, alder body, maple neck.

All tuned to B-standard.

Whatiswhich

Here's my cover of Omake 5 from the Thunder Force IV OST.

Hope you enjoy!

Thunder Force IV - Omake 5 (COVER)

For one glorious moment the world was perfect.  The sun was shining, the flowers in bloom, the grass a rich emerald green and the insects buzzed happily in the bushes on their important works.  Everything was in its place and contentment began to settle on Geoffrey for the first time in... who knew how long?  Still it only matter that it was here now.

Starting in the distance a faint metallic clattering overlaid with the put-put-put of a three and one quarter stroke engine straining it's way around the narrow country lanes slowly grew.

Ah.  Even better, good old Daisy.  He hurried inside to get the kettle on and find some chocolate digestives.  Can't go on a crawl without a little something to line the belly first.

In the garden

Lumiaalto #004 Fear Factory

Buy it here! 
https://www.ultimatemetalkemperprofiles.com/store/product/13

Orange Jim Root Terror Kemper pack - profile High gain 6

The car appeared around the corner, tires squealing and smoke billowing.

"Fuck me oh Jesus fucking Christ so on my fathers grave I'll slap you right there next to him if you don't slow the fuck down right NOW!"

Come on, just a little more, I know you've got it in you.  Jerry Grinned as the car surged forward, he hadn't had this much fun since the bar maid in Woolverstone.  The squawking next to him took a higher pitched tone as he swung around the bus, narrowly avoiding an oncoming Chelsea wagon.

For a moment the flashing blue lights dimmed in the rear view mirror and he took another sharp turn right down head street.

Three blocks, I can beat my record he thought as the car launched over the center of the roundabout and slammed into the ground showering sparks on the other side to the accompaniment of suffering metal and a yelp from Gladys, who had ceased trying to slap him with her handbag which was a blessing and now who's face was just a rictus of fear, lips drawn back, eye's rolling in their sockets.

Gladys hadn't been part of the plan, but that was OK, you needed to know how to improvise.  Make the best of the moment.

He pulled up the handbrake, slammed into the curb and quickly reversed down the alleyway.  Next to the entirely disproportionate back door of the city concert hall.

"Right that'll be 4.50 luv, see you 5pm sharp.  Need a hand with the cello?"

Leadfoot

He glistened.  No, he really did.  You read about characters so full of enthusiasm and rectitude for the job that the author describes them as glistening in the pulp novels he read and of course Damien put it down to poetic bullcock but this kid seemed capable of developing a fine patina of "honest" sweat at all times.  Not enough to dampen the shirt or dirty the collar, but enough that right here, the idiot glistened.  In the middle of winter.

"Sarge said you're quick.  Said you dealt with an RTC 5 minutes of leaving the station first time out."

"Did he now?" the bugger. Of course he probably forgot to mention that I was the one in the crash.

The kids forehead wrinkled "What's an RTC?".

Good grief, didn't they get any training these days?  "A good way to lose your lunch" and your license and end up in front of a committee.

"You were sick?" there was that annoying grin, only to once again be replaced with concussed toddler confusion "That doesn't even..."

The screech interrupted the gormless twit, thank god.  In a moment the black car was there, screaming two inches from the door, then it was gone a cloud of blue smoke lingering.

Give the kid some credit he could react and drive, there was barely time to make the shout before they were hurtling pulling a hard U and down the road blues and twos weaving between the cars, the cabin a roar of noise and confusion.

"Sarge also said you don't like to drive".

What the heck?  Now?  He tried to regain some composure. "Focus on the road." an afterthought "And the perp."  He peered through the drizzle and glaring lights.

Pressing the button "Dispatch plate is Charlie, Oscar, Charlie.." oh god, hilarious, of course.

"I've got it!  Anyway, I don't get why you're still on traffic if you hate it so much" the kid continued in a horribly measured voice as the weaving continued and bits of crud fell out of every bucket, sun visor, bucket and pocket in the car creating total chaos.

Covering the radio with his hand and trying to flail off a pad of traffic tickets "Gods sake! Later!  I'm trying to call in the plate...", this must be hell, I must have died and gone to hell already.

"Look out for that bus!"

Suddenly it was gone.  Equally suddenly there was a fraction of a second of weightlessness in which a tiny portion of his bladder relieved itself, and then immediately there was immense pressure, and noise and everything that hadn't hit him as it left the orifices of the vehicle earlier now found a way.  The car spun to a halt just in front of a terrified old lady on the sidewalk who started to enthusiastically hit it with her handbag.

"Right then..."

Right then, shaking "Dispatch, er... calling off pursuit, vehicle has vanished. Over.".

He heard "Madam, please do not vandalize police property.  If you continue you will be in contravention of the 1971 Criminal Damage Act section 1 and you may face up to 10 years in prison."

His mouth dropped open, and watched as the kid walked back to the door and got in smartly and started reversing back onto the street.  He was smiling "That was great, are all chases that fun?".

Oh god, a hero in his own mind.  No wonder they lumbered him with the idiot. I'm not going to survive the night.

Black Rat

US based British guitarist, noodling, collaborating, eclectic tastes and always up for a new genre.

New tracks tagged #kemper