Out of The Mist

[Kyanimal]

“Out of The Mist”

Chapter 158 of ? …



Ollie:

“Catch” was all snugged up for the night. Our new found friends had left in their plain gray SUV. After a deep hug from Tino, I was practically whistling as I wound my way to “The Shoppe”, following the same steps I'd taken on that fateful night, not all that long ago. This time I was wearing my shoes, nor was it anywhere near dark.

It was around 6pm, or so. Commerce Street was full of people, and cars slowly navigating the crowd, that tended to fill the narrow cobblestones, meandering off the very narrow sidewalks, trying to merely pass each other, and not get run over.

Using my very own key wand, I entered through “The Shed”, and back to the locker room. I needed to rinse off my fishy smell.

It was always a bit exciting being naked, under the shower, with “The Shoppe” full of people, only a few walls away. There was always the rare chance that some guy, or guys, needed to use the restroom. I was just across the hall, through an open arch, wet, in my full glory. The chance of being “caught” only served to bring out my “naughty side”, meaning I tended to spend more time than usual languidly washing “Hoss”.

If he knew I was back here, and he had the time, Dave might join me, but I wasn't expecting that to happen with “The Shoppe” being so busy. And, as for a stranger discovering me? Never happened, darn it.

So, I was surprised when Dave stuck his head into the archway to tell me to get dressed as soon as possible. We had a mission. There was pizza in the break room. He'd explain soon, but had to get back out to the floor.

WHAT? Not even a comment on how gorgeous I was? No mention of how much he loved me, and “Hoss”? No stripping down to join me, and blow or fuck me?

Something was up, butt it wasn't us!

Since I'd tossed what I was wearing into the washer, I ascended the singing stairs in just a towel, and my canvas slip ons. Why was the food in the break room downstairs?

I pulled on a pair of jeans, commando, and pulled a sweatshirt over my head. I paused to look down through the wall. Dave, Dan, and Tim, were talking to folks. Where was Frank? Come to think of it, when I came in through the shed, where was the Jeep? And, why were Dan and Tim still here, and if not gone home, not at the forge either?

Things weren't right.

I thought of heading down, and straight out into “The Shoppe” when my tummy began growling. The thought of food lead me to the break room, right where Dave had said I should be. Though things were odd, there didn't seem to be a great urgency.

The four Spartan Pizza boxes on the table each had a slice left inside. One even had anchovies on it, along with a few other toppings. I grabbed that, and what looked like double pepperoni, tossed them on a paper plate, that I stuffed in the microwave for 20 seconds.

There was also a single open beer, obviously for me. The flat screen was tuned to CNN. Nothing special going on, in spite of the talking heads' intensity.

I was wolfing down my fourth slice, with bacon, pineapple, beet, and egg, when Dave popped in, looking a bit disheveled.

“Things are far busier than they should be for a Tuesday evening, but you and I have got to run. Dan and Tim will handle whatever. When you've swallowed your last bite, and finished your beer, join me in the shed, in the van.”

With that, he disappeared. No pressure there! What the hell?

I almost choked on my last mouth full, then washed it down, and ran after Dave. He already had the shed door open, the van running, when I slipped into the passenger seat, buckling my seat belt. If it hadn't been for the pedestrians, and slow moving, tight, traffic, I swear he would have floored it to get out of there.

As we were mired in the crowd, edging our way along Commerce Street, Dave began telling my about what had happened to Frank the night before, and that we were going to retrieve him, and the Jeep. I listened in amazement, with a touch of fear.

I decided that what had happened with me today could wait 'til later, once we'd gotten Frank, and the Jeep, back.

We called Arie on our way to Sequonsit, as Dave explained he had asked us to. I found that as interesting as it was comforting. Arie assured us that Frank, and the Jeep would be ready and awaiting us. He wasn't kidding. Everything was set when we got there. Things were going a bit TOO smooth.

Frank was looking sheepish, and generally embarrassed, slinking to his right in the wheelchair, as he was ushered out of the hospital to meet us. We didn't even have to go in to claim him. The Jeep was right there, too. Arie certainly knew how to grease wheels.

Dave said he'd drive the Jeep, and Frank would probably find that more comfortable.

As I was driving the van through the night, I couldn't help but wonder what was being said forward of the tail lights just ahead of me.

 

[DonQuixote]

As the pieces of the puzzle start to be shared and the bigger picture gleaned!

 

[Craiger]

It's a bit frightening. Should Olie be driving alone? I hope Arie is having both of them shadowed. You never can tell where or when the goons might strike. Particularly since Paddy's order to stand down hasn't been received. This was an intense chapter, Chaz.

Craiger

 

[Kulindahr]

I'm wondering if there will be fireworks when Ryan's dad finds out just what the "business" with Ryan was/is.

 

[Kyanimal]

“Out of The Mist”

Chapter 159 of ? …



Paddy:

This had not been one of my best days. I'd run the range of feeling nice to “G”, to being threatened in my own study. I'd been moved from calmly considerate (not my usual style) to nearly having a heart attack at my very own desk. If it weren't for the influence of Sean, I might have died in my deeply padded, leather clad, swivel chair. I had to admit I was getting too old to keep up. Things were moving so fast, and not going in the directions I wished.

I was also convinced, in spite of how much I truly did love him, that my nephew Ryan was one of the prime sources of my current turmoil. I was willing to admit that unfortunate circumstances sent Ry's new friends off on an unfortunate series of discovery, but I was also convinced things would not have gone as far as they have without Ry's likely “treason”. I didn't know exactly how, or when, he may have learned what he obviously shared. It was simply something that I “Knew”, even without proof.

Though I couldn't simply let that go, as much as I would like to, I was practically forced to make an example, for the sake of controlling all those involved in my operations, perhaps especially because Ry was my nephew.

It wasn't personal. It was “business” operational.

And, now, I had no choice but to let that go. I'd been forcefully confronted with something bigger than me. And, that wasn't easy to admit, but those were the facts, and I'd have to learn to live with that.

Sean was here through dinner. Bridget had come over to join us, and help Mary with the preparations. Sean and I made it a point to make the evening a quiet family affair. I was exhausted by bedtime. Getting out any orders would have to wait 'til morning. Besides, with Sean around, I couldn't very well shut down something he wasn't supposed to know about.



Gary:

I'd done this before, too many times. This one had me edgy because it was different. I was relieved I was the only one here. Nobody else had to be in danger if this backfired.

With the new moon, all was dark, very velvety dark. No outside lights. No lights from within the house.

As I sat on my front steps, I could see the glow from the town's street lights, above the surrounding trees, even at this early hour. Out here, it was just a glimmer.

The Milky Way was spiraling above me, in all its spectacular majesty. The calming shush of waves gently lapping at the beach, half a mile through the dunes, was lulling me into a sense of peaceful security.

The gentle breeze was a warm one, with just a hint of sea salt, in my nose, and on my lips and tongue. I was enthralled. I was so lucky, yet not, to be where I was, where I lived, where I loved.

The harsh brilliance of the approaching van's headlights were not a surprise. They were obvious through the foliage from the moment the van entered the subdivision's road. The driver switched them to yellow parking lights, as he turned into my drive. I didn't stand up until the intruder had glided past me, and circled around to stop across the back of the house.

The van's two front doors were open, turning on it's interior lights. It's back doors were swung open to receive its special cargo. Two guys were awaiting me as I rounded the house's back corner. I was surprised, though not really, that one of them was Jimmy Harrison himself, considering the recent depletion of the numbers of his crew.

Arie had accurately predicted this. I was more surprised that he had someone with him.

No “Hello” from Jimmy. No formalities. “There you are. Let's get this done!”, he gruffly ordered.

I walked toward him, seeming to make my way to open the house's back door.

“Nice to see you, too.”, I sneered, smiling.

 

[Craiger]

So, Gary is following through with Arie's plan. I hope it goes well for Gary's sake. Paddy's orders will have to wait until morning? The big man has been taken down a peg or two. But those orders had better be made soon. I think he is fooling himself to think that Sean isn't aware of something. Trouble abounds...... Cliffhanger........Thanks, Chaz.

Craiger

 

[DonQuixote]

We're inching towards the finale of this saga - It's been a helluva run.
I'm anxious to see the ballet through its late night performance.

 

[Autolycus]

That chapter leaves us expecting so much more - surely this is not nearing a finale?

 

[Kyanimal]

“Out of The Mist”

Chapter 160 of ? …



Gary:

Every lighthouse has its own, unique, signature. They can be identified by their beacon's colors, and frequency of rotation. Ours happened to be 7.5 seconds of white, followed by 2.5 seconds of green, then 10 seconds of dark. A complete rotation, being a double sided beam, took 40 seconds. Others could be white/white, white/red, or white/yellow, with varying timing. Before the current age of GPS, proceeded by Loran, a ship's Captain/Navigator, seeing a particular Light, could determine where they were, and what they might be approaching.

When there was a seaward mist, or fog, the strength of the beam, magnified through intricately crafted, crystal, Fresnel Lenses, could be seen slicing through the air, with an almost physical quality. On a clear night such as this, the sweep of the light was not as easily detected by those of us under its arc. It was more a suggestion, easily looked through, not casting as much of a reflection as the town's lights. Still, it was there, as a comforting wisp, from the ground, looking up.

I doubt it was part of the plan, but the lighthouse sweep seemed to set the tempo for all that followed.

At the height of white, the door of my detached garage rose. The harsh headlight high beams, spot lights, and flashing red/blue roof LEDs, of the squad car pounced within, were flicked on. This was matched by the squad hiding among the trees, and the one coasting up the driveway. My back yard was flooded in law enforcement brilliance. The three of us were frozen in our tracks.

Even though I knew what was coming, it still surprised me. I couldn't imagine what might have been running through the minds of Jimmy, and his cohort.

“Police!”, blared from a loud speaker. “Stay where you are! Hands on your heads!”

I complied as though I was as astonished as the other two. I couldn't see anything but LIGHT any way!

“Drop to your knees, then spread out on the ground!”

This had to be waking up my neighbors.

Before I realized it, Jimmy stepped behind me, and wrapped his left arm around my throat. I stumbled back into him, then felt what I supposed was a gun barrel pressed against my right temple.

“Turn off those fucking lights!”, he bellowed.

I felt a hot, searing, breeze graze my right ear. Jimmy was falling backward, taking me with him, milliseconds before I heard the bang of the shot.

His arm released me, and I was able to stagger to keep standing.

I swung around to see Jimmy splayed out on his back, with a small red hole in his forehead, just above his right eye.

I turned to see his buddy spreadeagled on his stomach.

My legs buckled, and I sank to my knees.

Shadows approached, causing some of the lights to blink, as they walked in front of them. There was the sound of boots rushing through grass, and over asphalt, accompanied by the creak of leather, and the jangling of metallic accessories.

A hand reached out to me from the halo of light. At first I was confused, then reached for it. I was being pulled back up to my feet.

“Are you all right, “Uncle” Gary?”

I couldn't speak. I merely nodded, as I felt the youthful strength of Arie's officer, Kerry, lifting me.

I remembered the day he was born. We weren't actually related. His parents were friends, as were so many others living here. I was truly blessed, and figured he didn't know of the terrible things that I had done. I didn't deserve his sincere consideration and concern.

As others were handcuffing Jimmy's goon, getting him upright, and marching him to one of the squads, another shadow approached.

Arie's laser scoped rifle was slung over his left arm, pointing at the ground.

“It's a good thing for you that I haven't been drinking coffee.”, he glumly quipped, then sighed, as he glanced down at Jimmy's body.

“I'm truly sorry he made me do that. I was hoping for a better outcome. You O.K., Buddy?”

“I think so, though I'll never be the same. Thank you!”, I replied, unconsciously still leaning on, hugging, Kerry.

“Jack? Darin? Let's get Jimmy into the back of his van, and off to the hospital morgue.” Arie ordered, then added, “I doubt he expected the cargo would be him.”



Paddy:

When did it become impossible to turn off the fucking phone? When did phones morph into a rectangle of plastic, glass, and who knew what else, to become so inseparable, and intrusive? When did phones cut their cords to infringe on our lives ALL of the Time, and leap from wall, table, or desk, to pocket? FUCK!

Mary wasn't next to me in bed. She'd likely headed for the guest room when I inevitably started snoring. Who could blame her? My nocturnal vibrations were probably even more annoying than the chirping of the evil device languishing on my bedside table.

My alarm, set for 5am, hadn't yet gone off. I also hadn't been sleeping all that well, tossing and turning, my brain obsessed with the slippery details my world imploding. Describing my mood as “Grumpy” would be a major understatement.

I fumbled to reach the offending, neatly packaged, tangle of technology. It resisted my attempt to crush it, in my powerful paw.

“WHAT?”, I croaked.

“We thought we told you to back off of Ryan.”, a male voice stated, then tapped off the connection.

What?!

 

[DonQuixote]

As the net starts tightening - and the ass who wouldn't listen is down.
What will Paddy do - will he understand that EVERYTHING he tries will only come back to haunt himself 10 fold?

 

[Craiger]

Boy, is Arie a good shot or what! I think that makes two down by him and who knows how many more. I want him on my side........ I marvel at your knowledge of things, Chaz. Now it's the workings and identifying lights of the Lighthouses. I think you were a sea captain in a previous life... Otherwise, where would you have found such intricate facts.

Craiger

 

[Kulindahr]

Looks like Paddy is the victim of a failure to communicate -- as in he failed to communicate to his goons the order to back off.

I look forward to seeing the penalty. Somehow I don't think it will be two minutes in the box.

 

[Kyanimal]

“Out of The Mist”

Chapter 161 of ? …

Let's roll back a day ...



Ryan:

Tuesday at “The Ranch”, which we'd come to consider Pete and Mark's place, began with me waking up on the couch to the smells of coffee and bacon, two of the sensory inputs closest to my heart. I sat up, with only a slight twinge in my back, to look over the open concept living/kitchen area. Pete was behind the counter. Rafe seemed to be stirring in his bed, under the skylight.

I tossed off my blanket, and went to check on Rafe, in just my skivvies.

Mark emerged from the hallway, with a low whistle.

“What a nice sight to wake up to, Ry!”

I blushed.

“Watch yourself, Babe! Neither of us are all that young anymore!”, Pete playfully chided.

“Hey! Can't I dream while awake?”, Mark theatrically pouted.

We all chuckled, then Rafe said, “Ouch! Don't make me laugh. I need to pee.”

Cat appeared, just as I was reaching for “the pitcher” for Rafe.

“Morning, everyone!”, she declared, almost too cheerily. “Wait a moment, Ry. Let's see if we can get Rafe to his feet, and into the bathroom. It's only a few steps away.”

“So soon?”, I wondered.

“The sooner the better.”, Cat replied. “Rafe, you have a motivation to give it a try. We'll take it as slow, or as fast, as we need to.”

“I really need to pee.”, Rafe anxiously repeated.

“Hold as best you can. Relief is just a few steps away. Ry, and I, are right here to help. We won't hurt you. Just touch to steady, Ryan, don't grab. Rafe, swing your legs to stand up out of that bed. We're here with you.”

The grimace on Rafe's face, as he tempted to force his body to pivot, sit up, and bring his feet to the floor had me cringing.

Though I knew it was for his own good, I couldn't believe how “mean” Cat was being. The poor boy was bruised, and puffed up, from head to shins.

The look on his face was one of determination, driven by desperation. He slowly struggled around, and up, to sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet dangling just inches from the floor.

Cat, and I, were on either side, gently touching, as Rafe managed to push off to stand.

“I really need to pee!”, he implored.

“Just a few more moments, and several steps.”, Cat encouraged, glancing at me, to make sure I understood, and was in sync.

I nodded back at her, as Rafe slowly urged his beaten body off the bed, and began shuffling, slightly swaying, between us, toward the bathroom, only 20 ft. away. As tense as I was, I had to force myself to relax, and not put too much pressure into my hold on him.

Cat was constantly shifting her gaze between him, and me, guiding our progress. Maybe she wasn't being all that “mean” after all.

It seemed as through it took us forever to guide Rafe to standing before the toilet. I could only imagine what those brief moments felt like to him. I could relate what it was like to have to pee, but not be able to let loose on the spot, having to wait for the right time to let go. That “Silvery Feeling” had to be near torture for him by now.

Cat was so cool about it. I was sure this wasn't anything she hadn't observed before. However, she was respectful, placing my arm gently around the middle of Rafe's back, instructing, “Gently help keep him steady. I'm going to step out while you guys get this done. I'll be just outside if you need me.”

“Oh, well. Nothing you haven't seen before.”, Rafe stated, as he flicked his dick out over the waistband of his boxers.

Nothing was happening.

I had my arm lightly around him, standing behind him, though I couldn't help looking around to his hands at the base of his dick, encouraging it to let go.

After a few silent seconds, he relaxed enough to let his stream begin to trickle, then finally push to blasting into the porcelain bowl before him.

I could feel the moment when his entire body relaxed.

“Aw!”, he sighed, then giggled, causing his stream to bob about, just short of overshooting the rim.

“Until this moment, I've always been pee shy.”, he sighed. “It's surprising how necessity can overcome insecurity. This feels so good even with you here, hovering over me.”

I snickered. “Dude, I've sucked that beautiful dick of yours, swallowed you cum, and even fucked your tight bubble butt. Peeing shouldn't be such a problem.”

“It's just not the same. I can't explain it. I'm happy this is happening now, though.”

“So am I, Bro! Let it go, and let it be. No big deal. You know I'm here for you for whatever.”

I could feel my own dick plumping up.

What?

 

[Craiger]

Oh the trials and tribulations over being pee shy. Good for Rafe. One shy problem out of the way. I can imagine the relief helped him relax making it easier to "stroll" back to bed... Maybe next time I can replace Ry and assist him. Thanks, Chaz.

Craiger

 

[DonQuixote]

Baby steps and big boy whizzing!
Tearing down bear - iers with a twink-le in his eyes

Great post, Chaz.

 

[Kulindahr]

I can relate to feeling so beat up I needed two people to even get me standing! I've been there due to an accident once and two different surgeries later.

I also remember that when I'm in such pain that every muscle is tense to try to keep anything from moving, taking a leak requires serious concentration.

 

[Kyanimal]

“Out of The Mist”

Chapter 161 of ? …



Ryan:

Once we got Rafe's beautiful dick safely tucked back into his boxers, he was still unsteady as we pivoted to go back out into the hall. Since I didn't dare grab him too hard, for a moment I though he might topple, but he soon recovered, grimacing. I couldn't image what pain he must be in. The boy was one big bruise.

I was relieved when we made it out into the hall, and Cat was there to gently steady him from his other side.

I thought we were going to guide him back to his bed, however, Cat had other ideas.

“Let's guide him to a chair at the table, Ry.”, she purred.

I gave her a questioning look, to which she just smiled, and nodded.

“Magically”, one chair had a pillow in it, and was pivoted to point to us. Pete and Mark were acting like they didn't notice us, as we lowered Rafe into his “special” seat, and rotated it so he was up to the table.

Mark was quick to place a plate of scrambled eggs, heavily buttered “soft” toast, with raspberry jam, and a glass of milk, before my battered brother. I was feeling I had sincerely adopted Rafe, given all he'd gone through because of me, and my “dear” Uncle Bastard. I owed Rafe SO much! And, it certainly didn't hurt that he was HOT, and Sexy, even beaten up.

Whoa! Was I really that much of a perv? How could I be thinking about naughty thoughts at a time like this?

I had certainly changed since my surprise introduction to Harbour Home, and all of the amazing people there. I was no longer, snotty, frat boy Ryan. No doubts about that! But, was that something I should be concerned with, gladly accept, even be proud of? My brain wouldn't have even considered such things, until now.

Pete spoke up, “Rafe, we've been told you were wolfing down your cherished cheese burgers on your way here. But, I have to remind you that you were under the influence of some awesome pain killers. Cat is a Licensed Practical Nurse, and I'm a retired Physician's Assistant. We've both been consulting with Dr. Norton. The plan here is to ween you off the Oxycodone, while gradually replacing it with Advil. That means you're going to be experiencing some slightly increased discomfort. And, I assure you it's not because we're trying to torture you. I'm telling you this to explain the watery eggs, and crustless toast. We're attempting to reduce the pressure of chewing on your jaws, and teeth. A soft diet is in your future for the next day, or two. Understand?”

Rafe nodded, attempting to pick up his fork. I instinctively reached to help.

Cat reached over to stop my hand. “He has to do this on his own.”, she smiled.

I was surprised how much I appreciated her gentle touch. She was worming her way into my heart, which I didn't mind at all. Gary was one lucky guy!

“Hey!”, Mark chirped. “Instead of a B&B, maybe we should go for a private recuperation clinic, and make a lot more money! Can we keep you, Cat?”

She giggled. “Right now I'm just here for Rafe. And, I would really like to get back to Gary.”

Pete face palmed with both hands. “I thought we were retired, Babe!”

“O.K., O.K.! Just a thought.”, Mark chuckled. “More coffee anyone?”

Pete and Cat put Rafe back to bed. “This is just for a nap, Buddy”, Pete informed him. “We're going to be getting you up more often, to move around. With your bruising, we want to keep your circulation flowing, and not let the blood pool in any one place for too long. It's important that you understand what we're doing, why we're doing it, and that we need your cooperation, and determination.”

“Thank you!”, Rafe smiled/flinched. “I'll do my best.”

I mentioned I should probably head for the shower.

“Hold off on that, Bucko”, Pete instructed. “Your patient always comes first. Time to learn how to give an effective sponge bath.”, he grinned at Cat, than headed over to help Mark clean up the kitchen area, after breakfast.

Cat retrieved a large stainless steel bowl, filled with warm soapy water, a wash cloth, and with several hand towels draped over her arm, setting it all out on the night stand next to Rafe's hospital style bed, in the middle of Pete and Mark's kitchen, dinning, living room area.

“I had Mark put a few drops of Dawn kitchen detergent in the water.”, she explained to me. “It's quite marvelous at breaking down oil, while still moisturizing skin. Wring out the wash cloth as much as you can. The main consideration here is cleaning Rafe's skin, not getting him wet.”

I'm thinking, “O.K. That makes sense.”, as I'm watching her go through the motions.

“Now, we're going to do this in sections. Mentally divide his body into quarters. We're going to only be removing his sheet from the portion we are working on. This is not for the sake of modesty, as much as it is for keeping the rest of him warm.”

I'm thinking, “O.K. That makes sense.”

I noticed Rafe intently following all this, from his pillow, glancing between Cat and me, yet not saying a word. It was as though he was silently reminding us that even though we were talking about him as an object, he was very much there, watching us.

With the sheets still up to his neck, Cat started on his face. With both his eyes blackened, and with his puffed, bruised, cheeks, Rafe looked like a raccoon with mumps.

“The trick is to dab, and gently swab, not scrub.”, Cat instructed.

I watched closely as she deftly moved the wash cloth along Rafe's hair line, rinsing it in the bowl, wringing it out, and lightly moving in small circles, over his brow, rinsing/wringing, down his nose, over his closed eyes, rinsing/wringing, gently tapping his cheeks, rinsing/wringing, then down his neck.

Rafe wasn't saying a word, or flinching. I thought I could detect a little smile. He seemed to be enjoying her adept ministrations.

Cat plopped the wash cloth back into the bowl, then moved the sheet to expose Rafe's left side, from his navel up.

“Your turn.”, she quietly stated, then stepped back.

I was surprised my hands were slightly quivering, as I reached for the cloth, to wring it out. It didn't help that Rafe was watching my every move. He was trusting me to do this right, and there was no way I ever wanted to possibly hurt him.

Given his ancestry, Rafe was mostly smooth. He had a thick, soft, black mane on his head, full dark eyebrows, and long, lush, eyelashes. His arm pits sported long, silky, ebony, hair, that matched his pubes. However, that was about as far as body fur went.

His tan, firm, nicely developed pecs were accented with quarter sized nipples, that I noticed were looking rather perky, in spite of the situation he was in. He had one of those horizontal, lidded, innie navels, in the middle of his subdued abs. He wasn't “ripped”, yet very pleasantly muscled, and black and blue all over.

Yes, I had seen, and touched, ALL of him before, plus more, and was revisiting those images of him, though he was now mostly covered by the sheet. I was feeling guilty that looking at him now, given the condition he was in, and the position I was assuming in tending to him was giving me a boner.

What?!

 

[DonQuixote]

Hey, it happens - you care about him and want to make him feel better.
And, under normal cirCUMstances, what better way to make someone feel better!

Great chapter, Chaz!

 

[Kulindahr]

Heh -- stainless steel for a sponge bath?

The nurses at my mom's recent hospital stay would shudder -- they use an insulated plastic bowl so the water stays the same temperature.


Oh -- I never given a sponge bath, but I would expect doing one for a hot guy would turn me on, too!

 

[Craiger]

Goodness, that chapter brought back long passed memories. However in my youthful days of being an Orderly, I always tried to work the p.m. shift. No bed baths... Of course in Rafe's case, I would work all three shifts. And we did use stainless steel pans.

Craiger