#*typing this inside my bunker in a hidden location in case they find me*

[wisteriasymphony]

"I shall forever be devoted to you, my darling," he spoke, cognizant of the hand he held at the small of her back while they danced. "In my love I shall be your servant, forever at your beck and call."

Claudia breathed to speak, but hesitated. She bit her lip as she mulled over how to word things. She would have to play his game.

"But I have no need for a servant," she replied, back into that pseudo-aristocratic affect. The voice didn't really fit her, as far as she was concerned, but, again... the game of it all.

Adrien brought her bony hand close to his lips, and kissed her wrist and every knuckle much like how he expected to embrace death—hurriedly and with a passionate fervor. "Then I shall be whatever you should wish for, my darling. Husband, protector, footstool—"

"I have need for none of these!" she laughed, dragging him back into waltzing around the rooftops. "Perhaps I wish for you to be gone, foolish prince. What would you say to that?"

It was Adrien's turn to laugh now, a quiet one accompanied by that look of twinkling adoration in his eyes, an enamored smile at the sight of her that Claudia couldn't seem to get him to do away with.

"I'd say that is the one thing I simply cannot do," he smiled. "You may pick anything you like—But never that."

[smallheathgangsters]

Second Youngest | Part Three

A/N: The final part is finally here! So sorry for the longest wait ever, but I do hope you enjoy and that I didn’t disappoint you. Lots of love! xx

Tag List: @sophieshelby @annabethgranger123 @marvelschriss @bloodorangemoonlight @chill-bee @savannah-elliott @the-number7 @mayakblack @thekillingjoke-haha @soleil-dor @theshelbyclan @erinwhelan99 @saniyaah @loveforweasleys @livingforbarnes @multi-fandom-iimagines @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyblindersengland @lucillethings  @callmesunshinexx @simonsbluee @anyasthoughts

Shelby!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2483

Type: angst

---------------------------------------------

Alfie. What a man. Impressive, but so scary and intimidating at the same time. Thinking about him sent shivers down your spine, although you were never sure if in a positive or negative way.

He clearly wasn’t a good man. Not to his employees, not to his business partners, not even to himself. To you though, he was strangely kind. Kind in a way that meant he didn’t yell at you the way he yelled at Ollie. Or how he asked you to do something instead of demanding it. They were subtle things, gestures that might not stand out very much. But that didn’t mean you weren’t able to notice and appreciate them.

You’d been afraid that life would go downhill again after it had just gotten better. Your former boss was a lovely man and he had treated you more than well. When Alfie stepped into the room and introduced himself to you, your heart had sunk. He had seemed violent and messy and anything but a serious, successful entrepreneur.

Luckily, it had turned out better than expected. You knew he was into the same shady business as your family and that his ethics were more than questionable. It was painful for you to watch how he treated people, though over time you got used to it, especially since he spared you. Not once had he raised his voice at you. He even complimented you from time to time, mentioning your hard work and that he appreciated your commitment.

Of course, you would have preferred staying with your old boss. He didn’t make your skin crawl every time he entered the room. His tone has always been cheerful and motivating, the work had been morally a lot less worrying and the office had been filled with sunlight and cute little plants. Alfie’s place was dusty and dark, and you were often working by yourself.

Still – it was a hundred times better than what you had to endure in Birmingham. With your family.

Every day you wished you could write to Finn. Sweet, sweet Finn. You missed him so much. But you had to make sure that no other family member found out where you were located. And the last thing you wanted was your little brother getting in trouble because of your foolishness.

It was a stormy Thursday evening. There was still so much to do, the paperwork piling on your desk, waiting to be taken care of. Alfie hadn’t been around all day, but Ollie had come by more than once to bring you more assignments. You sighed and looked out of the tiny window up in the corner. Your office room was located underneath the bakery, hidden away from daily life and anybody who could be suspicious about what was going on behind the flour and eggs.

Suddenly, Ollie poked his head through the door frame.

You let out a scoff, loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to bring you more work,” he defended himself, lifting his hands as if he was surrendering.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, leaning back into your chair and regretting that you had made your annoyance so obvious. Ollie was a nice guy and he asked you if he could help you with your papers every single day. Even though you declined every time, you very much appreciated it.

He leaned against the frame and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, I understand. Today was stressful.”

“Are you done?” you asked your colleague.

He nodded. “Joining me? We could get a drink somewhere.”

You let out another sigh and shook your head. “Not today. I need to get a few more things finished up before I go. I really don’t want to stay longer tomorrow.”

Ollie chuckled. “I understand. Have a nice evening, Y/N.”

He waved at you politely and then left, leaving you behind your desk with your typewriter. Before getting back to what you had been working on, you lifted your head and studied the clock. It was already seven. You decided to stay another hour.

Eight o’clock came around faster than expected. You had managed to do half of what you’d intended to, but you were starting to get incredibly sleepy, so you knew you would only start making mistakes from now on.

You pulled out the piece of paper from your typewriter, pulled open one of the drawers underneath the desk and placed it inside. Then you closed it maybe a little too forcefully, making you flinch at the slamming sound. You clearly were stressed, but the week was over soon, and you couldn’t wait to go on a relaxing trip to the countryside on Saturday. Have a picknick on the greenest field with the prettiest flowers. Enjoying the sun and gentle breeze. The smell of freedom and the calming tranquillity.

You sighed to yourself yet again, the images buzzing around in your head, and grabbed your purse. Your fingers rummaged around in it, trying to find the keys to the bakery. After a couple of seconds, they pulled out the cool metal.

You walked out of your office, closing the door and continued to the main entrance. You weren’t even halfway there, when you heard footsteps. Two, to be precise. Two steps into your direction.

You stopped in your tracks, your hand closing tightly around the keys, making them clink loudly. Slowly, you turned around, scanning the large hall.

Alfie had always promised to keep you safe. Or at least that was the reason he gave for why you were the only employee without a gun. He had said that you would never have to worry about anyone hurting you or even getting too close to you. And you had trusted him, hadn’t even questioned his decision. He had sounded so convincing, as though there was no doubt in what he told you.

Now, you regretted trusting his words. Because you knew you were the last worker to leave the shop and you were clearly not alone.

“You really thought you could outsmart us, Y/N …”

Tommy.

He had found you.

And with another step he slowly started coming out of the darkness. The distinctive sound of him clearing his throat gave you the worst case of goose bumps.

You were scared. So scared.

There was no way he’d let you go. Let you stay here.

There was no place for peace in this war. You had thought you had escaped for good. But apparently you could never escape the Shelby curse.

“H– How did you find me, Thomas?”

You could have slapped yourself right then and there. Your voice sounded pathetic and frightened. Not the impression you wanted to give off. Especially when facing your older half-brother.

He chuckled. To himself. Mockingly. “You chose Finn to help you.”

You gulped, your fingers closing even tighter around the metal in your hand, slowly beginning to hurt yourself.

“Finn only had to look me in the eyes once and I knew he was involved in your very clever escape plan,” he explained while taking another two steps towards you and fishing out a cigarette. He placed it carefully between his lips but didn’t immediately light it.

His eyes had always been very empty. Even today. Cold and empty.

The difference was, today they looked disappointed. And furious. Furious about somebody thinking they were smarter than him. Somebody thinking they could get away without facing the consequences. Somebody underestimating him. Gravely.

“And when I found out you were hiding in Solomon’s bunker, I knew I had to put an end to this foolishness of yours.”

You gritted your teeth and tried to move backwards, as discreet as possible, with a loudly thumping heart. The main entrance was facing your back and all you wanted to do was turn around and bolt. Out of the bakery and into the night. As fast as possible.

But you didn’t trust your brother. You didn’t trust Tommy not to shoot you. Because he obviously had no sympathy for you at all.

The clicking of a lighter filled the air and the cigarette between Tommy’s lips caught the flame. “A Shelby on the Solomon side of the business? You know I can’t accept that, Y/N. It’s bad for my deal and my reputation.”

You sucked in the cool air through your still gritted teeth. “Please just let me go home.”

You had wanted it to sound like a demand. But as you had expected, it had come out like a plea.

“I can’t let you do that.”

His voice was lacking every sign of emotion. Making it the scariest you had ever heard.

“I’ve done nothing wrong, Tommy.”

Another step backwards. How much more until you got to the door?

“Perhaps not maliciously, but you’ve caused a lot of trouble already and I don’t want to clean up your mess,” Tommy explained and took another drag of his cigarette.

All of a sudden, panic overcame you. Your feet started moving on their own, in direction of the exit. A rush of adrenaline overcame you, although that ended very promptly when you felt a strong hand wrap around your upper arm.

“Stop running away, Y/N,” Tommy’s growled. “I’m taking you home.”

“Home?” you yelped, struggling in his grip, trying to get him off. “Small Heath was never my home, Tommy!”

“So, you think the basement of this Jewish bastard is your home?” he huffed, tightening his grip even more.

You let out a desperate cry. “At least he made me feel welcome!”

“Shut up, Y/N,” you heard Tommy grumble, his voice coarse. Then, you heard the cocking of a gun. “I don’t want to shoot you. Please do as I say and come with me. Civil.”

Only a moment later you felt the barrel against your ribcage. Your heart stopped for an interval, trying to cope with the stress you were under. Your breath was shaky and your body stiff as a board.

“Please …” you begged again, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You knew it was stupid to show weakness, but you just couldn’t deal with it anymore. With Tommy and his obsession with power and control. With the Shelby name haunting you. With the fact that you would probably never get away. They would always find you. They would always get you back.

Suddenly, there was a door being slammed. Both yours and Tommy’s head shot up.

“Thomas, fuck off.”

“Alfie, stay out of this.”

“Stay away from my employee.”

“I said stay out of this,” Tommy repeated, pressing the gun even harder into your side. “If I shoot her, she’ll be no use to you anyway.”

Alfie, who was stood in a doorframe slightly above the ground, slowly moved down the few steps, closer to the scene. “You’re not fucking shooting my employee.”

Even though Alfie was technically defending you, you despised how they both talked about you in the most objectifying way possible.

You began twisting in Tommy’s grip, trying to free yourself, since he was now busy with Alfie’s interference. But your half-brother wasn’t one to easily get distracted.

“I’m going to fucking shoot you if you don’t stop,” he hissed, now visibly angry. Tommy aggressively pushed you towards the large main door, trying to take you out of here and with him.

“Fucking get back here, Thomas!”

Alfie started getting pissed. And you knew, that meant nothing good was going to happen.

“I said stay out of this. This is about family, not about business! We can talk business some other time.”

With that said, he forcefully threw you against the steps leading up to the exit. You fell onto your knees and hands, scraping them badly. You let a sound of pain slip out of your mouth and immediately pressed your eyes and lips together, trying to suppress any more noise and tears.

Straight away, Tommy’s gun was on your body again. This time, right against your temple. “Don’t move.”

But why should you obey? What was the benefit of obeying him? You were terrified for your life, though you’d rather be dead. Rather get shot in the head than accept the fact that you were defeated. By your family. That they had ultimately broken you.

Your mind had no time to catch up with what happened next. The only thing you were more than sure about was that a gun was fired. And a heavy weight had fallen onto you.

The scent of cigarettes and musky aftershave crept into your nose, making you realise that it was Tommy. Making you realise that the pressure on your body was Tommy and the warm liquid spreading on your clothes was blood.

You wanted to scream. And cry. But every single sound you wished to make was stuck in your throat, keeping you from breathing properly. You weren’t only trapped underneath your dead half-brother. You were trapped in your own skin, unable to move and say anything.

“Get up.”

As if nothing had happened. As if Alfie had not just shot Tommy. Demanding you to get up, while he pushed away his lifeless business partner and offering you his large, dirty hands.

And you knew crying, not accepting his offer or resisting him would do absolutely nothing for you. This life didn’t give you a chance to breathe. Either you got over this evening right away or you’d lose everything you’d fought for.

And Tommy was not worth it.

Not even a bit.

So, you grabbed Alfie’s hand and let him pull you up. You accepted the handkerchief he held out and cleaned off the blood as good as possible.

“Alfie …” you said carefully, looking up at him cautiously. “Why did you shoot him?”

He frowned. “No one fucks with my business.”

You bit your lip and handed him back the cloth. “Wouldn’t it have been better for business, if you’d just let him take me?”

He shrugged, scratching at his beard. “Maybe,” he mumbled almost incomprehensible. “Your brother–“

“Half-brother,” you corrected.

Your interruption made Alfie eye you up and down. “… half-brother used to be my favourite Shelby. Though, y’know, that may have changed over the past few months.”

You snorted, almost a little too confidently. “You’ve only just found out about my identity, Alfie.”

Your statement made him laugh, confusing you.

“You really thought I didn’t know you were a Shelby?” he asked and stepped closer to you, piercing into your eyes with his. “I know a Shelby when I see one. Even the ones that are nothing like the rest of the pack. Your true nature sits deep inside you and always will.”

Then, he backed away before turning his back on you.

“I hope you know how to hide a body, Y/N.”

He opened the door to his office and let it slam shut. Leaving you alone with Tommy.

[touchstarvedsam]

Read on AO3 or read the fic under the cut.

Sam’s been spending less time in the bunker since curing Dean of being a demon. After unchaining him, he left the dungeon with a look on his face Dean never wants to see again. Dean’s seen Sam cry, he’s seen Sam completely broken and hurt. But he has never seen this look on Sam’s face before. Complete and total hopelessness, terror, and heartbreak. Not even after Jessica burned up on that ceiling did Sam look like that.

And Dean put that look there.

Dean broke Sam so totally and completely beyond repair.

He remembers the things he said, as a demon, because he remembers meaning them. But he doesn’t mean them now and he doesn’t know how to fix this.

Castiel had brought him food from the local diner after he was cured, said Sam placed the order and picked it up but couldn’t bring it to Dean himself. He’d told Cas he just needed time, and Dean will give him that, as much as it hurts having his little brother hide from him.

Sam ordered him a cheeseburger extra onion and double French fries, just like he likes, with two slices of apple pie for dessert. Even sad and scared, Sam will always think about Dean above himself.

He’d asked Cas if Sam got himself a salad like the health nerd he is. Cas just gave him a pitying smile, which told Dean everything he needed to know.

Now, almost a week since he was cured, Dean knows Sam hasn’t been eating enough, and that Sam spends a lot of time at the local bar outside Lebanon. It’s a couple steps down from a dive, but it has its share of rowdy drunks, a pool table for some good hustlin’, and bartenders that aren’t scared to kick you out on your ass. Dean would know.

And Sam has been there at least four nights this week.

It’s the fifth night that he hears the creak of the door open and slam shut that alerts Dean to Sam leaving again. It’s just after nine. Dean weighs his options and decides to follow Sam there but remain hidden; he’s gotten good at hiding since he got the mark of Cain.

He gives him an hour head start before heading over, driving through the lot to locate the car that Sam seems to take whenever he goes off alone, then parks in the back so Sam can’t find Baby and know that Dean came.

The bartender knows him, lets Dean take up a shadowed corner with a couple’a beers and hunker down to watch the show.

Sam seems to be two or three beers in; he’s swaying on his feet, cheeks flushed and hair a mess like he ran his fingers through it several times in frustration.

And he appears to be hustling, except the little shit is drunk and not just faking it to play the guys he’s hustling. If Sam does this every night without backup, Dean is going to kill him.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” one of the guys slurs, leaning too close to Sam for Dean’s liking. Dean never was fond of anyone touching Sam or calling him pet names. That’s Dean’s baby brother and Dean doesn’t play nice when it comes to Sammy. He watches as Sam visibly tenses – knows what’s making his brother uncomfortable – and steps back. “Oh, don’t be like that, pretty, you know you can’t win this, don’t ya? I’m givin’ you an out. Your arm’s broken, ain’t it?”

“No,” Sam replies, bumping the pool table in his haste to put more distance between them, grunting in pain at the contact. “Already told you… I lose an’ you take me for all the money I got, or you lose, and I take you for all the money you got – no more no less. I can beat you, sprained elbow or not.”

Dean smirks with pride. His brother may be drunk but he’s not stupid. Sam can play pool left handed or right handed. They trained themselves over the years how to use both hands in case their dominant hand becomes incapacitated somehow in the middle of a hunt. Always need a contingency plan when your life’s on the line.

“We’ll see about that,” the man growls, leering at Sam, eyes roaming his body up and down. That kind of scrutiny would have Dean wanting to shower and scrub himself raw; he can’t imagine how Sammy feels. “It’s prudes like you that beg for cock when it’s presented to them.”

That has Dean half standing, anticipating. He’s furious that anyone would say that to Sam. It has Dean’s skin crawling and the mark on his arm burning, begging for bloodshed. Dean wants to slit this man’s throat for even thinking of Sam that way. He wants to torture him and make him beg for Sam’s forgiveness.

He wants to bash his face in.

Sam shoves the guy’s shoulder and says, “Just play pool, man,” and Dean sits back down. The game resumes and Dean keeps a watchful eye as Sam fumbles his way through the game, drunk off his ass. Sam accepts drink after drink and Dean knows his little brother isn’t going to win this game with that much alcohol in his system, but he’s waiting until Sam actually needs help to step in.

“You’ve been alone for awhile, sugar. You waitin’ for someone?” a smooth woman’s voice says from his left. He looks up just as she’s sliding into the seat across from him and blocking his view of Sam and the guys he’s hustling. He needs to get her out of here fast.

“I’m just enjoying some time alone,” he replies, not trying to sound rude but wanting her gone.

Her smile is predatory when she asks, “Would you like some company?”

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he tries to sound remorseful but misses by a mile as he leans slightly to the right to try to get an eye on Sam.

She must notice he’s distracted because she turns her body slightly to the left and cranes her neck to see what Dean is looking at before turning back to him. “That tall glass of water, huh? It’s always the gorgeous ones,” she says wistfully with a shake of her head and winks at him as she gets up from her chair. “If you strike out, I’ll be at the bar, sugar.”

It had to be less than a minute between the time she looked at Sam and then left the table, but by the time Dean’s view cleared, Sam and the guys at the pool table were gone. Dean almost knocked over his chair in his haste to get up and find Sam. It was barely 11, and the past week Sam hadn’t been coming home until well after midnight. Last call was 1:30 but Sam has always been the type to leave well before last call to avoid being “one of those people,” he’d say. His little brother was such a nerd.

Sam’s a grown man. 32 years old and 6’4”, he shouldn’t need Dean’s protection, but that will never stop the big brother side of Dean from protecting his little brother. And now, with this mark burning into his arm, Dean’s more protective than usual. More agitated, angry. He’s itching to make someone hurt, someone bleed, and if tonight it happens to be some guys Sam beat at pool then so be it.

He bypasses the pool table they were hanging at -- the  drink Sam had been drinking rests on the edge of the table, condensation leaving a ring on the lacquered wood finish -- and heads for the hall leading to the bathroom. He stops at the sound of voices in the middle of an argument.

“I told you, nothing more nothing less,” Sam’s voice carries down the hallway and Dean waits, wanting to give Sam the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t see how many of the guys followed but even inebriated he knows Sam can hold his own. It’s just the protective part inside him that wants to beat this guy’s face in for thinking he can get something from Sam.

“I might’a let you go if you didn’t hustle me an’ my boys for all we got,” the man replies huskily. There’s a thud and Sam grunts. It sets Dean’s teeth on edge and makes his hand twitch for a blade. He peers around the corner and sees that Sam’s pressed against the wall by the man he was playing when Dean got to the bar, the other two that had been hanging around the pool table watching them play were flanking the two of them. Dean could only make out Sam’s shaggy head of hair. “Now we’re gonna take it out on your ass for all we lost.”

Sam tries to shove at the guy’s shoulders, says, “Just because I can outplay you in pool with my arm in a sling doesn’t mean I cheated. You just lack skill.”

It’s Sam’s smart mouth that Dean both loves and hates. His baby brother can be a huge pain in the ass with his book intelligence, but sometimes he lacks severe street intelligence. He wonders how often this has happened before; he’s going to have to have a talk with Sammy after he saves his ass, literally.

He has half a mind to let these guys fuck with Sam a little bit to teach him a lesson; give himself a better excuse to beat them half to death for touching his brother.

He wants to be Sam’s savior and then punish him accordingly, both for running away from him and for putting himself in deliberate danger.

He’s going to punish Sam regardless.

“Get off’a me!” Sam shouts, trying to shove harder, but he’s outnumbered and while Sam is tall and strong, these guys have more muscle mass on him and they just laugh as Sam struggles against them, his arm in the sling cradled against his chest. He can’t use all his strength because of the damn sling and his hurt elbow.

Being bitten by a vampire while Sam watches crosses his mind and he feels less inclined to jump in just yet, wanting to see how this plays out. Sam had no soul, he reminds himself, but at the same time… Dean feels like he doesn’t have a soul right now, too. Just dark thoughts swirling around in his head about his little brother and pain.

“Aw, come on, pretty boy,” another one of the men taunts, gripping Sam’s chin and turning him to face him. “Don’t be a prude. You look like you’re desperate to get fucked. Just turn around and we’ll make you feel good, baby.”

“No!”

Hearing this sleazeball call Sammy “baby” is enough for Dean. He steps away from hiding just as they’re turning Sam to face the wall, fiddling with Sam’s belt buckle as his little brother squirms in their grip.

“Let him go,” Dean growls.

“Mind ya own business, pal.”

“I said,” Dean speaks slow, as if talking to a child who broke the rules, “Let,” he steps closer, “Him go.”

“Dean,” Sam says, voice quivering both in fear of the men trying to have their way with him and possibly at Dean himself. Sam hasn’t looked Dean in the eye since Dean was cured; he’s been ducking out of the bunker before Dean can emerge from his bedroom, or the bathroom. Dean had been longing to catch Sam in the library again, reading a book, happy and comfortable like he used to be. But as far as he knows, Sam stays in his room, or leaves the bunker altogether to run away from Dean.

That stops now.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean says, “I’m here.”

“Listen, buddy,” the man that Sam beat speaks up again, “Find your own bitch, this one’s ours.”

Despite the burning of the mark, begging for Dean to slit the throats of these men, Dean actually laughs out loud. “You’re right,” he shrugs, a smirk growing on his face as he steps closer. “He is a bitch, but he’s my bitch, and I’m not going to let scumbags like you taint him.” He grabs the hair of the one who had grabbed Sam’s chin and yanks him away roughly. “If you don’t want to die today, let him go.”

“Alright, asshole--” The first guy releases Sam and lunges at Dean, who slams the guy he has by the hair face first into the wooden wall of the hallway next to the bathroom. He whirls around before the guy reaches him to throw a right hook into his chin, sending him flying back. The third guy releases Sam completely with a shout and lunges, too, but Sam sticks a foot back and trips him so he falls face first.

“Like I said,” Dean says with finality.

“Dean,” Sam repeats his name, looking at him fully. He still has fear showing in his face but Dean is just glad to hear his voice. “You--”

“Sammy,” he says softly, stepping over the man he knocked out with a right hook and pressing Sam back against the wall. He almost backs away when Sam’s beautiful hazel eyes flash with fear -- the last time he had Sam against a wall, he had a hammer and was going to kill Sam and Sam had a knife to his throat that Dean knew he wouldn’t use on him -- but he doesn’t. He holds his ground. “Sammy,” he repeats, raising a hand to caress his little brother’s alcohol flushed cheek. “I don’t want you doing this anymore.”

“Dean, I- I just needed time and--”

He doesn’t know why he does it -- actually, that’s a lie because he knows why he does it, he’s always wanted to do it -- but he leans in and kisses Sam, effectively quieting him. Sam gasps against his lips and accidentally grants access to Dean’s tongue. Dean holds Sam’s chin with one hand while the other trails downward and grips Sam’s hip to press it tightly to the wall, keeping him still. His hips follow soon after and press against Sam’s. He’s careful where they press together so he doesn’t put pressure on Sam’s hurt arm as he deepens the kiss.

Sam doesn’t fight. His free arm lifts up and he wraps his thin fingers into the collar of Dean’s shirt and pulls him closer. Dean smiles into the kiss before pulling away, says softly, “Come back home, Sammy,” and gives him another chaste kiss.

Sam goes home with him, riding shotgun in the Impala as he should. They’ll get the car Sam drove tomorrow. Tonight he’s going to punish Sam for running away, and then claim him like he should have done all those years ago.

[ofmilesmorales]

familia no se falla

WHO: Miles Morales, Jessica Drew ( @spyderwomcn ), and Natasha Romanoff ( @ofblxckwidows ) WHAT: A week after Miles was taken by Hydra, Jess and Natasha find his location and swoop in for the save. Things go about as well as could be expected.   WHERE: Underground Hydra bunker, precise location unknown. TRIGGER WARNINGS: kidnapping, torture, experimentation, mutilation, violence

JESS: The last thing that Jess wanted to do was bring someone else in on this. She never wanted to be the type of person who kept making the same mistakes over and over again, never learning, never growing. Trusting Miles, bringing him in on Hydra, that had been a mistake, and now here she was with Natasha beside her doing the same thing. The difference this time, she reassured herself, was desperation. She had tried, fifteen times over she had tried, to get to Miles just like she had promised. If there was anyone she trusted to keep herself alive, it was Natasha. She had faced worse than Hydra -- or at least, she had significant previous experience of them, which counted for something. 

 "Are you sure you're up for this?" Jess asked, taking her eyes off the base at the bottom of the hill to look at her friend. She never doubted that Natasha was more than capable for a mission, but whether she wanted to, that was important. "If things go south, Nat, I want you to promise me," she said, meeting her eyes, "I want you to promise you'll leave me. Leave and I'll work from the inside, you put pressure from the outside. We find Miles no matter what happens today, but I won't ... I can't-" She cut herself off, not even capable of imagining a world where she not only got Miles captured, but brought back a decade's worth of horrors for Natasha at the same time.

NATASHA: Hesitation wasn't a word of her vocabulary. Not when her friends or family were in trouble. Of course, it hadn't been in her vocabulary before either. The Red Room had taught her to never hesitate. If you hesitated, you could get yourself killed. Hesitation got you punished. tortured until you made sure that you never hesitated again. But then again, she hesitated on that mountaintop when she'd met Clint and it had changed her life. Clint had given her a second chance and she hesitated until she decided to take it. That was why she was where she was now. However, Natasha hadn't hesitated when Jess asked for help. Jess never asked for help. So, when she called, she knew it was serious. When she learned it was about Miles, hesitation wasn't an option. 

 "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't up for this," Natasha reassured Jess firmly, her gaze meeting her friends. She wasn't there just because Jess had asked for her help. She was there for Miles. She was there because she wanted to be there. Two heads were better than one and in most ways, Natasha was just thankful that Jess had asked for help. For her sake and for Miles. Her gaze hardened when Jess spoke again and the redhead shook her head stubbornly. "Don't do that, Jess. I'm not going to promise you anything other than the fact that we're going to find him and we're going to get out. All of us, alive. I'm not leaving anyone behind and I'm not promising you that. I can't do it." Her gaze turned back to the base and she squared her shoulders back, "Let's do this."

JESS: “I know you wouldn’t.” If there was one thing in this world that Jess could count on, even more than Hydra’s ever pervasive presence, it was the fact that Natasha Romanoff knew exactly what she wanted to do, what she was willing to do. They’d both had self control stripped from them in different ways, and they had both promised themselves that they would do anything in their power to prevent it from happening to someone else. “Soulmate,” Jess retorted, the word that summed up how irritated she was at the fact that Natasha was doing exactly the same thing as Jess would have in this scenario. If it wasn’t for Hydra chewing her up and forcibly spitting her out, she would’ve followed them, and Miles, to the end of the universe to prevent ever losing him. 

 The plan was simple. Jess would infiltrate from the top, as she had done before, while Natasha covered the bottom floors. As it turned out, having a former Avenger as a best friend came in handy. Jess took a running jump off the hillside towards the base, landing softly on the wall and sticking to the brick side. In one fluid movement she smashed the glass of the window, swung into the base, and took the guard on the other side out with a quick kick to the throat. Chances were Miles was in the same place most of Hydra’s projects were hidden -- underground, and in the darkness. That’s why she had to make this quick. She moved through the top two floors with ease, subduing the agents before they could even draw a breath to scream.

NATASHA: The redhead had learned loyalty from a young age. She was loyal to the KGB and the Red Room or she'd be punished. It was only after Clint saved her and she joined SHIELD that she truly learned about loyalty. Clint became her partner and that was when she truly knew what loyalty was. Now, she was loyal to a fault. She'd do anything for the people that she loved. She'd grown fond of Miles in the short time that she'd known him and when Jess had filled her in, Natasha didn't hesitate. Her loyalty was unwavering. It would probably be her downfall in the end, but at least that was a good way to go. If she went out due to her loyalty to her friends, her family - it'd be a good way to go. 

 Jess' words tore her away from her thoughts, but she repeated the sentiment, "Soulmate. We've got this, Jess. We're going to get him and get out." They both knew the plan and Natasha looked at Jess for one more long moment, before setting the plan into motion. 

 The redhead took on the bottom floor with ease. The agents didn't seem to expect them and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Natasha took on two agents at once and took the both of them down with ease. She kept her eyes open and looked for Miles and any clues that he was there. That he was still alive. He had to be. She wouldn't know what she'd do if he wasn't. The mere thought made another wave of adrenaline course through Natasha's veins and she took down another group of the Hydra agents.

JESS: Jess had never known Natasha to be a liar, at least not when it came to things like this. In work, dishonesty was what they both made their living out of, and Natasha was the best there was at what they did -- there had never been a day that went by when Jess wasn’t confident in her friend’s ability to get out of a bad situation with nothing more than words, even if she did have the strength to back it up. When it came to her personal life, to emotions, Natasha didn’t pull her punches. She was dangerously direct, and Jess had always respected that about her. 

 Right now, as she tore through the Hydra agents in front of her trying desperately not to remember doing exactly the same thing with Miles, she wished that she was capable of convincing herself to believe, to have faith. After all, how could she believe in anything when the person that had helped prove cynicism wasn’t safety was potentially downstairs right now, dead or broken or bleeding or worse? 

 Jess reached the middle floor, spotting Natasha making steady progress towards her. She surveyed the area, a cautious check over with years of experience and backed up with some Stark tech, and then nodded at her friend before pressing the button on the elevator. “We need one of them alive!” she called out to Natasha, tapping her foot as the elevator moved towards them. “Biometrics are on the lower levels. They don’t take my card anymore.” 

 The elevator arrived, and Jess helped Natasha drag in the unconscious man, giving him an extra zap for good measure. The doors closed behind them, and Jess leaned against the railing, then pushed herself up again. She couldn’t stay still, couldn’t even think. “Please,” she whispered “please be here, please be here.”

NATASHA: There wasn't a possibility in her mind in which they got out of this hellhole without Miles. Miles had to be alive. She wouldn't know what she'd do if he wasn't. Natasha wasn't sure she'd recover from that one. If she had to rip Hydra to pieces, she'd do it with her bare hands. No. Miles was alive. She knew it'd be rough. She knew that they hadn't treated him well, but she needed him to at least be alive. He was alive. There were no doubts about it. No other possibilities. Because anything other than Miles being alive wasn't something Natasha could imagine. 

 Natasha helped Jess drag the unconscious man towards the bio-metrics and scanned the parts that needed to be scanned, before she gave him another punch to the jaw for good measure. They entered the next room and found a corridor that she assumed led to Miles in the next room. Her assumption was only because they were suddenly surrounded by agents and a woman who looked a lot like their leader. 

 "So, uh - What's your plan for this? I'm not sure we can just punch our way out of this one, Jess," Natasha murmured under her breath, her gun trained on one of the agents that surrounded them.

JESS: Every step Jess took sent a dull ache through her body, and that wasn’t even mentioning how her venom blasts ran up her still bruised and burnt arms, yet more retribution for what she had done here — a reminder than no matter how much she felt it was right, trusting someone else only brought them hell on Earth. 

 In this case, Hell had a face, and a familiar one at that. Jess held out her hand to Natasha, signalling for her to hold back, and then took a few steps forward. Green eyes followed her, always too bright to be completely natural, and Jess wondered yet again what Madame Hydra had running through her veins, other than pure venom, of course. Their eyes met, and Jess could tell from the tension in the other woman’s shoulders that she was waiting for Jess to speak. She didn’t. 

 “If you thought burning our bases would endear me to your sad little pursuit, darling, you were wrong,” Madame Hydra said, words twirling together so smoothly she might as well have been auditioning for the stage. 

 “I know,” Jess said. The woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “I was wrong. I bring everyone down.” She turned, meeting Natasha’s eye, giving her a significant look, then returned to Madame Hydra. “I want to come home, Mum,” she said, “and I brought you the Black Widow to prove it.”

NATASHA: Hydra was a lot like the KGB and the Red Room. Being inside their bases, always gave Natasha a bad taste in her mouth. They always managed to remind her of her past. The past which she tried her best to forget about. The infiltration of this particular one served as a reminder of the intel she had received from one of her contacts in regards to the Red Room. That thought sent a shiver down her spine and she had to bite down on her lip hard to remind herself that wasn't where she was...yet. This was for Miles. For Jess. For them, she'd do anything. 

 The redhead watched the interaction between the woman and Jess. She looked around the room, ignoring the feel of eyes upon them. Natasha didn't care how many of them she had to go through to get to Miles. Judging by the number of agents they were surrounded with, they were closing. Judging by the woman who blocked their path, they were on the right track. 

Jess looked at her and Natasha nodded to tell her that it was alright. That she had her back. No matter what happened, they were soulmates. She'd follow her to the end of the earth and back. Especially for Miles. However, she paused when Jess spoke and she wondered if she was hearing her correctly. What was that? Mum? Prove it? Natasha hesitated for a split second, before she began to play along, hoping that Jess knew what she was doing. 

 "This was your plan the whole time? Give me up to them? To Hydra? I can't believe you." Natasha muttered to Jess dramatically, but too realistically for anyone to question the two of them.

JESS: Jess watched as the woman’s mouth curled into a seething smirk. It was only now that Jess could realise how all of it, every single second this monster had spent masquerading as her mother, had been a lie. There was no sentiment behind her words, no fondness in her hard eyes. 

It said a lot about Jess that it took until this point for her to realise that, perhaps, but for all her cynicism, she had held out one last shred of hope that the people who raised her weren’t all monstrous. Now, that hope had been shattered. They’d taken Miles, done God knows what to him. Nothing else mattered. 

“Don’t take it personally, darling,” Madame Hydra cooed, reaching out to touch Natasha’s cheek. Jess strained against the agents instinctively at that, but they’d already got the peer dampening cuffs around her wrists. She could feel the electricity drain from her, venom blasts out of commission. “Once a double agent, always a double agent. Boys, take them downstairs.” She turned, then, back to Jess, pinching her chin between her fingers. “You can go there too,” she said, “until I decide whether I forgive you or not.” 

It wasn’t the first time those words had been spoken, but Jess didn’t feel a shiver go down her spine. The plan was working. They were pushed into the elevator, the agents surrounding them, and Jess went easily. Corridor after corridor passed, and she managed to catch Natasha’s eye for only a brief moment, a silent apology, before they finally reached the end of their journey, the agents coming to a standstill before three small, cramped cells. 

 Two of them were empty, but the one in the middle held a familiar form. Don’t get angry, don’t get scared. Jess settled on pissed off instead. 

 “Widow,” Jess said, causing the agents to stir around her. “It was nice working with you.” She let the words settle, the agents lulled into a false sense of security, and then brought her arms up, using the cuffs to knock the man holding her to the ground.

MILES: Somehow, Miles assumed things would end. In the movies, on TV, the torture ended when the hero gave up and Miles had given up. He’d stopped making stupid jokes, he’d stopped straining against the bonds holding him to the table, he’d stopped fighting back, but Hydra didn’t care. They didn’t care about anything. He wasn’t even sure they had a goal in mind anymore beyond making him hurt. And they were good at that. Every part of him ached now, worse than he ever had before. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe without hurting. 

In his worst moments, he was sure he was going to die here. Jess had promised him she’d find him but, in the moments when everything ached so badly that he couldn’t think properly, he was positive the only thing she’d find of him was his body. He hated himself for that. Jess made him a promise, and Miles knew she would keep it, but it was so hard to keep that in mind. It was so hard to remember that. 

At some point, they moved him into a smaller cell. ”You’re less of an escape risk now,” explained the scientist who’d carved him up, looking absolutely gleeful about that. Miles managed to raise the middle finger on one of his hands, though that effort alone was laughably difficult because the man was right. He wasn’t an escape risk. He wasn’t any kind of risk now. The transition to the smaller cell was a torture all its own, the effort of moving sending waves of pain over him so quickly that it was impossible for one to recede before the next hit. Miles might have passed out, or he might have just drowned in it for a while. He wasn’t quite sure which but, eventually, he was strapped to a new table in a smaller cell with a scientist and a scalpel and another round to go.

He didn’t know how long they’d been at it when something in the air outside shifted, but it had been a while. He was covered in new blood on top of dried blood, barely aware until someone outside the cell started yelling. His latest torturer walked to the door of the cell. “What’s going on?” The man demanded to one of the uniformed agents running by the door. 

“Black Widow and Spider-Woman are here,” the agent said breathlessly, sounding equal parts terrified and excited. 

Miles laughed weakly from his table, drawing the attention of both men. “You guys… are really in trouble now,” he said breathlessly, flashing a bloody smile. Look at that. A few quips left after all. There was a brief moment that almost felt like victory until the scientist crossed back over to him and slapped him hard across the face, drawing out a quiet groan. 

 “There are hundreds of agents between you and them,” the scientist hissed. “They’re the only ones in trouble here. Them and you.” 

 And so it continued. More torture, more agents running by the door. Miles tried to keep up with them as they ran by, tried to count how many were headed in that direction and do mental math to figure out how many might be left, but it was hard. Eventually, he retreated back into himself. But the chaos came closer, and the tiny flicker of hope in his chest grew.

And then --- and then he saw them. Just the shadow of a uniform and a glimpse of red hair at first, but it was enough. “Spider-Woman turned on the Widow,” the scientist muttered. “She’s coming back to Hydra. I’m sure the two of you will get a reunion. I’ve heard stories about her parents. They were brilliant scientists. I bet she’ll follow in their footsteps. I bet she’ll start with you.” 

Miles laughed softly, though the sound quickly bubbled up into something louder. The scientist muttered something about hysteria, something about breaking, and Miles laughed harder. Almost loud enough to drown out the sound of blows landing as the inevitable happened, because Jessica Drew? Jessica Drew was no traitor. The fact that Hydra had thought it was impossible at all was a testament to their own arrogance. Maybe there was something poetic in that. It was Miles’s arrogance that got him into this situation, after all, his insistence of underestimating Hydra that left him strapped to their table. And now, it would be their arrogance that freed him. 

 Or it would kill him. That was still possible, too. He felt the restraints holding him down loosen, felt the scientist yank him up by his shirt, felt the cool metal of the bloodied scalpel against his throat. 

“They… they’re probably gonna kill you,” Miles murmured, shifting slightly and wincing when the action caused the blade to knick his throat. 

 “They’ll let me walk out of here,” the man countered harshly, “because I’ll kill you if they don’t.” 

 It was probably bad that that made him start laughing again.

NATASHA: Natasha had the KGB to thank for her incredible acting skills. She knew that whatever Jess was doing was an act. She knew Jess like the back of her hand. Hell, she considered the woman her soulmate. She knew how Jess felt about Miles, the same that she knew how she felt about him. They'd both do anything to save him, just like they'd do anything to protect him. Her face remained neutral with a hint of betrayal just to add the cherry to the top of the cake. Meanwhile, internally the red head watched the agents around her waiting for the right moment. Waiting for them to let their guard down. 

 "I can't believe you'd sell me out like this," Natasha added in disdain towards Jess for added effect. She could have spit at Madame Hydra whenever she touched her face, but she behaved herself. Natasha pretended as if she was disgusted and withdrew the moment her fingers brushed her cheek. The woman seemed to believe the act and she followed Jess and the Hydra agents downstairs to where she prayed they had Miles. 

Her eyes met Jess' and her gaze softened for a millisecond to show her that there were no hard feelings. She'd die for Jess, for Miles. A little pretend betrayal was nothing. Hell, she'd even take torture before she began to question the plan. They settled before the cells and Natasha could feel her heart in her stomach. Fear and anxiety, mixed with a bit of anger. She'd take down every last agent who had put their hands on Miles and she'd enjoy it.

"Always a pleasure, Ms. Drew," Natasha replied curtly, before knocking out the agent who was standing next to her. Once the man was on the floor and unconscious, she searched his pockets for a way to get the cuffs off. Once she found what she was looking for, Natasha reached over and unlocked Jess' after her own. She shot her black widow's bites at another agent and took him down in an instant. 

 The redhead struggled with another agent, before asking Jess, "This is the last of them, right? He has to be in there. He has to be." She didn't know what she'd do if he wasn't. Or worse, if Miles was dead.

JESS: Venom blasts were a no go, Jess discovered that pretty quickly. She attempted to get electricity crackling between her fingertips and found that it only flickered before the pain ran down her arms, meaning she took a quick uppercut that she could’ve easily avoided otherwise. Another agent took advantage of her misstep, coming in with a swooping kick, and Jess found herself on the ground, wind knocked out of her chest. 

Luckily, she wasn’t here alone. The agent above her dropped to the ground, a Widow’s Bite attached to his vest, and the element of surprise allowed Jess to get back on track. If Plan A didn’t work, go for Plan B and all the way through — Hydra had taught her that. 

Jess grabbed one of the unconscious agent’s guns, whacking the one who was attacking Natasha around the head with it. The metal clanged as she dropped it along with his body, and she let out a breath, pushing her hair back off her face. “We have an opening. We should take it,” Jess said, glancing up at the security cameras pointed towards them. 

She set off towards the next set of doors, getting Natasha to help her with lugging the agents over for the biometrics, and finally they were in front of the cages with nothing separating them — besides a few final Hydra punks who seemed even more irritated by the intrusion. It was a personal affront to them when their experiments were interrupted, Jess knew, and that thought only made her angrier. They didn’t even open their mouths before she let out a scream, a last venom blast tearing through her, knocking Jess back along with the agents.

Groaning, she pulled herself up on the bars, and that’s when her gaze met a familiar form on the other side. “Miles!” Jess shouted, desperate, a laugh escaping her lips despite the singed ends on her hair. “Miles, we’re here! Me and Nat are here, and we’re getting you out.”

MILES: The sounds of a struggle grew ever closer, and the grip the Hydra scientist had on Miles’s shirt tightened. He was afraid, Miles realized, and he was right to be afraid. Miles still wasn’t sure whether or not he deserved a rescue. He’d messed up in getting himself caught in the first place, had underestimated Hydra and overestimated himself, but he was positive that none of that would matter to Jess. To Jess, he was worth rescuing. To Natasha, too, since Jess had brought her along. Miles trusted both of them entirely, and he knew their presence here spelled bad things for the man holding a scalpel to his throat. 

Finally, the fight was right outside the door, the relief of it all hitting Miles square in the chest. One way or another, this thing was about to be over. Either Jess and Nat would get him out and he’d be free or they wouldn’t. Before all this, the second option wouldn’t have even occurred to him. Before his capture, he would have blindly assumed that Jessica Drew and Natasha Romanoff couldn’t be beaten, and while some part of him still thought that, he knew it wasn’t entirely true. Anyone could lose. Miles knew that now. 

But when he caught Jess’s eye through the bars of his cell, he forgot that all over again. She looked beaten, she looked worn down and singed, but she was here. She came for him, just like she’d promised she would. “Hey, Jess,” he greeted, voice raw and pained but as bright as he could make it.

The grip on the back of his neck tightened again, the scalpel at his throat digging in a little deeper and drawing a thin line of blood. “One step closer and I’ll kill him,” the scientist warned. Miles caught Jess’s eye, glancing at Nat behind her and then looking down at his wrists. They were bare, he realized. The power dampening cuffs had been lost at some point, and he hadn’t even realized it. God, how out of it was he? 

When his eyes found theirs again, there was a faint blue spark behind them. “I think,” he said hoarsely, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “I think you guys should maybe get down?” 

And then, the world exploded into bright blue lightning and the grip on his neck was suddenly gone.

NATASHA: The Hydra bases were incredibly similar to those that she had been in before. The Red Room was like Hydra almost and she wouldn't be surprised if they had ties. The Hydra base reminded her of her past and the things that she'd been through. Natasha tried her best to forget about it and focus on the mission that they were currently in. The only people who mattered were Miles and Jess. She could worry about herself later. Still, she found it amazing how much she had changed since the Red Room. How much Clint Barton had helped her with his offer. She'd been nothing, felt nothing and now she had family. She felt everything. 

She felt the fear that coursed through her veins as they raided Hydra base after Hydra base and were unable to find Miles. She felt the panic that set in the moment Jess told her about what had happened. She felt love for Miles and for Jess. It was a drastic change from the robot she had been programmed into. Feeling everything was scary, but she never wanted to go back to what she was before ever again. 

Natasha focused upon the mission at hand and helped Jess to take down the remaining Hydra agents. Her heart dropped into her stomach the moment she saw Miles. He was a kid and she couldn't imagine the things that Hydra had put him through. It made her sad. It made her angry. It gave her a purpose. Still, she smiled at Miles and tried to hide the fear in her expression. The only thing she wanted to do was to save him and get the hell out of there. Maybe blow up the base on their way out.

She barely had time to think twice before she grabbed Jess in the split second she had before hearing Miles’ command and his cell exploding into bright blue lightening. Natasha covered Jess on the floor and only looked up when she was sure the coast was clear. When she looked up, she found the scientist on the floor of Miles’ cell. 

 “Good job, kid. We’re going to get you out of here. If it’s the last thing we do,” Natasha murmured to Miles, knowing she was speaking for Jess too when she promised him that. The redhead grabbed one of the Hydra agents and used his biometrics to unlock Miles’ cell. The cell unlocked with a quick click.

JESS: Jess didn’t think she’d ever felt this relieved in her life. There were moments when she realised that maybe she was capable of being a hero after all, of getting out from under the influence Hydra had on her as a child, and this was definitely one of them. Her ears were ringing, her heart was pounding in her chest, and she only registered Miles’ words when she felt Natasha crash against her, pushing her to the floor. Jess tucked her head under, wrapping her arm around her friend, and when her ears popped and dust started to settle, landing in her hair and on her lips, she pushed herself up from the ground. She wanted to speak, to thank Natasha for the save, but she could only manage a squeeze of her friend’s hand -- Natasha would understand what it meant. 

Bringing Widow along had been one of the best decisions in Jess’s life, but of course she had learned a long time ago that banking on Natasha Romanoff was a safe bet. Her own hands were shaking, but Natasha’s remained steady as she opened the cell. Jess stumbled forward, arms immediately wrapping around Miles, pulling him close to her and feeling the air rush into her lungs for the first time in a fortnight. 

“Never do this to me again,” Jess said, voice cracking, hand going to the back of Miles’ neck. Blood smeared from her palm onto his skin, mixing with the mess those scientists had left in their wake. If they weren’t already motionless on the ground, Jess would burn this place down to pay them back for what they had done. Her lips pressed against the side of his head, and she squeezed Miles once more before standing up, giving him the support to do the same. “Every holding cell area has an emergency exit,” Jess explained, her words a little clearer now even though her ribs ached and she could feel her pulse in the burns on her hands. “Come on, this way.”

She moved over so that Natasha could support Miles on the other side and began moving towards the exit. The path was clear, save for a few agents that she was able to dodge and kick on the way past, and when they reached the elevator, Jess untangled herself for just a split second to remove her mask. “Dr. Miriam Drew,” she said, emphasising her accent, leaning forward to look into the retinal scanner. The failsafe worked -- her mother putting in failsafes to protect Jess even when she was gone (because she did such a stand-up job when she was alive). 

Jess went back to help Miles into the elevator and it shot towards the ground. The doors opened, and a jet shone in the middle of the clearing. “Just in time,” Jess commented to Natasha. It was a good thing they had friends in high places. They stumbled to the jet, and Jess didn’t speak until it was lifting off, taking them to relative safety within the city. 

She turned to Miles as they flew, gently guiding him to one of the stretchers that had been pulled out. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’re going to make it okay, yeah?” 

After all, sometimes a lie was easier to hear than the truth, and Jessica Drew had always been one hell of a liar.

MILES: Immediately after the explosion of energy burst from his veins, all Miles could manage to feel was tired. He felt the man who’d been holding him drop to the ground behind him, and the sudden lack of someone holding him up nearly knocked him to his knees, too. He swayed as the cell door opened, nodding distantly when Natasha spoke. 

And then, Jess was there. Miles practically fell into her, leaning against her so that she was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He let out a hoarse laugh when she spoke, nodding against her shoulder. “Knew you’d come,” he muttered quietly. “I knew it.” And he had, even in the moments where he’d started to doubt it. Miles believed in Jess, believed in her with everything in him, and she’d never let him down. She was here now, holding him up. She’d brought Nat, they’d come in and knocked everyone on their asses. They’d slain every single monster between him and the door, and Miles could breathe again. 

He was only vaguely aware that they were moving, swaying a little more with every step. If not for Jess taking the brunt of his weight, he would have fallen over before they even made it out of the cell. The jet, when he finally saw it, drew a hysterical laugh from his throat that came out  sounding strangled and wrong, because this felt like a dream. It felt like something a dying mind came up with in a desperate attempt of last-minute comfort, but it wasn’t. He could feel Jess’s warmth against him, could smell Natasha’s hair, could hear the jet’s engines powering up. This was real. He was going home. 

The stretcher under his back brought a quiet sigh from within him, and he nodded again as his eyes slipped shut. “It’s already okay,” he said quietly. “You’re here. You guys came. That’s ---- That’s as good as it gets.” 

If either of them replied, he didn’t hear it. Overcome with a sense of safety he hadn’t felt since Hydra shoved him into that elevator, Miles let his eyes slip shut and slept.

[iamcmims]

Women Of Letters — Multifandom (Four)

MASTER POST

Co-writer: @stormysymphony

As usual, Amelia was in the training room; this place is the only location where she felt useful since the Black Mask kidnaped Emma. However, it came to a point where training was enough; she will not save her best friend if she stayed in there, confined, locking herself up out of the whole world. It was time for Aurea to step up, so she pushed Amelia down, stood up, took a shower, changed her clothes into the ones she uses on the field and goes to the main room of the bunker.

Barry turned around and saw Amelia walk into the room already suited up. "Hey, Amelia." Amelia gives Barry and short nod, formal and effective. Barry looks at Cisco, giving him the cue to update Amelia. "We found the frequency of the data." Amelia does not move, waiting for more information. Caitlin frowns, "but if we do not have the location of the source then—," Cisco turns his chair and fixes his partner, "Yes, except if we use the frequency and search through Central City with it." It was Amelia's turn to be confused, "So, it means using the frequency to track it?" Cisco nods, "Each data has its proper frequency, so if we use it to track the data, then we will find him."

Amelia nods, and drops the formal behavior, "Thank for your help. This case is not easy, and it is highly dangerous, and—" The alarm of the bunker goes off, cutting Amelia in the middle of her phrase. Caitlin looks at the computer and sees that some camera went off. "Someone entered the bunker." Amelia knew who it was, and this predicted nothing reassuring. In a fraction of a second, Barry came back with his suit on, Oliver's arrows and bow, and Amelia's sword.

Through the speakers, someone started to speak, "well, well, well. It looks like everyone is here." Amelia puts on her mask, "put all of them in a safe place, now." Orders Aurea. Barry tried to contradict the order given, but Aurea's hard look made him stop, "My scientific team and yours does not know how to fight. Get them to a safe place, right now." Barry nods and uses his speed to put everyone in a secured location. Aurea looks at Oliver, "Hide somewhere, cover me if he has someone with him, we need to have a surprise effect on him." Oliver agrees and hides upstairs where Barry, Caitlin, and Cisco were, having a view on the main room, where Aurea was.

Aurea stayed at the place, waiting for the Black Mask to appear, which seemed like hours to her. When he finally appeared in front of her, without his mask on, the realization hit her.

"Now, Aurea, do you know who am I?", "Where is Lux?", "Well, I thought you might have found where I was hiding so before coming here, I have hidden her somewhere else.", "Why are you doing this?", "I told you, you have something I need.", "What is it? Tell me, and I will give it to you.", "Still willing to give up everything for each other, I see.", "What do you want?", "The dagger.", "Listen, big guy; you have to be more specific.", "The dagger. The only dagger that has what I want." Aurea searched her memories when she knew which dagger he was talking about; her eyes widen in shock.

"You want one of the powers of God. Why? Why would you want it?", "I want the powers of the evil dopplegänger of Eve.", "You need the spell for your plan to work out.", "I know. Frankly, I was not surprised when I searched your files and did not find any spell. You are smart, always being careful. So then, I guess, what if the only place where the spell is, is the Women of Letters' mind? Am I right?", "Is this the reason why you took Lux? Why didn't you just take me?", "Black and blue, blue and black, what is the difference? It would have worked the same. Now, to help you decide if you should give me the spell or not, know that if you kill me, a bomb linked to my heart will explode whenever my heart stops, and if you do not give me the spell, and the dagger, I will push one red button." He shows a bracelet on his wrist with a red button on it, proving his words to Aurea.", "You sick bastard, you are doing all of this just for powers?", "Not just for powers, the powers of the Mother of all Evil."

Barry, Caitlin, Cisco, and Oliver were listening to what Black Mask and Aurea were saying. Caitlin was typing something on her tablet. She looks at Barry and nods for him to follow her. "What is it?" Caitlin looks at her tablet then back at Barry. "I found what he is talking about.", Oliver looks behind him then back at Caitlin, "What is it?", "So, for the world to work, there is this balance, the good and the bad, the yin and the yang. If we go from this, you need to know that each of us got a dopplegänger, not only on other earths, but also on this planet, and just, in the cosmic. Are you still following?" The three men nod. "He talked about Eve, like Adam and Eve. The Mother of everything. Not only humans got dopplegängers, but every creature does, so it makes sense that Eve does. Eve's dopplegänger is as powerful as the original Eve; she is the Mother of all Evil. During Aurea and Lux's research, they found an artifact — a dagger." Cisco frowns, "The dagger that Black Mask mentioned?" Caitlin nods, "the dagger in question can kill both of the Eve and lock their powers in the artifact; it is said that this dagger is one of the powers of God." Caitlin catches the confused looks on the men faces. "The powers of God are artifacts that he made himself out of his powers, for each creature he made, for the humans to be able to kill them if they ever intended to destroy our world. This dagger is one of them. However, to be able to lock the powers of the both Eves, there was a spell, but there is also a spell to unlock them. The thing is if you unlock one power you unlock the other." Barry takes a deep breath, "Why does black mask need it?", "If he indeed when through the girls' researches, he knows that only a vessel of a wicked soul can receive the powers of evil Eve, like only a pure soul can receive the powers of the first Eve. He knows that he can control evil Eve's powers. If he does, though, as he is already a supernatural creature, half DNA, and half DATA, we will not be able to defeat him, he will be invincible." Oliver looks at Caitlin, "What if we use the dagger against him? Aren't the powers of both Eve their essence?", "Yes, but unfortunately, if the spell to get the powers of the evil Eve is cast, the dagger will disintegrate itself from the strength of the spell and Eves' powers."

Water was running somewhere near, drops falling from a pipe above Lux's head. The room in which Lux was locked didn't look like a room where water should be leaking from the pipe she was cuffed too. She was very thankful for all the times Aurea had forced her to train. Especially for the escape training. She took all her strength together and swung forward, pain coursing through her arms, a screeching noise indicating the pipe had moved. One more time and the metal clappered on the ground.

"Fucking hell that seemed easier in my memories..." Her hands were still cuffed together, but at least she could move properly this time. She neared the door. Locked. Bringing up her strength one more time she kicked the door in. She stepped out, trying to think where she could hide from Black Mask. Only one answer seemed wise: the bunker. However, before that, she had to figure where she was. Oddly enough, there were no guards around. Lux could not help but felt quite upset. That asshole did not think she was enough a menace to guard her. Of course, Aurea was the more efficient agent and certainly the better-trained one. Nonetheless, she would show him what to expect from her too, stepping out of the warehouse she started her way in the direction where the bunker should be.

Some disgusting noises came up from behind her, ever so slowly she turned around. Two of those horrible virus infected mutants were staring at her. She took a step backward, then another and another. The things moved closer towards her. She turned and ran.

"I do not have the dagger." Black Mask laughed. "Yes, you do. Wherever the both of you goes, you take the powers with you. I can feel it, it is here, close." Aurea takes a step back, enough to give away where the dagger was. Black Mask smirks, "you silly girl, you keep the dagger with you." Aurea takes out her sword, Black Mask frowns. "You will have to kill me before I give you the dagger." Aurea attacks Black Mask, at the first swing she hurts him, creating a deep wound on his leg. Aurea was not moving too much from her original place, protecting The Dagger that was inside the wall. "I will not have any problem killing you, Amelia." Aurea is taken aback when he pronounced her name. "I do know your name. You could have saved him!" Black Mask takes a step towards Aurea and aims his sword at her; she put her sword in front of her just before Black Mask's sword attained her face. "I have no idea whom you are talking about!", "My son! You did not save my son." They both stop fighting. "What?", "You decided to save Lux instead of my son, and now he is buried underground, rotting like his life never mattered, never happened.", "You want the dagger to have enough power to bring him back.", "You are smart. I give you that. You created me, if you had saved my son, we would not be fighting right now. I would not have infected your friend with the virus. She would not be dying."

[avengersohyeah]

Trace

Part 1

Masterlist

Trace Masterlist

Pairing : Dean x Male! Reader, Sam x Male! Reader

A/N : This is my first time ever writing a fic, hell it’s not even avengers related like my username. So please leave your reply, so i know if you like it or not. Also i haven’t decided yet if it’s going to be Dean or Sam cuzzz….. Um……

And the gif is kind of random so bear with me....

Normal POV

“No, grandpa…Jannice…Mark…wake up ! wake up !” No response, not even a move of their chest signaling that they’re still breathing. They just lays there bloodied on the floor. Scatered around the room with other children, he didn’t know what happened. He went for a grocery shopping an hour ago, not expecting to be welcomed by the sight of the people he loved, his family all dead. He just sat there in the middle of the bloodied room sobbing, screaming, knowing the fact that he’s really alone now.

(Y/N) trashed and turned on the bed, sweats coming out from every single pore on his skin, screaming and wailing their names, his family’s. He then woke up from the nightmare that once again invading his sleep. Looking to a clock hanging in front of his bed, it shows 5.30 am. ‘at least i’m not woken up in the middle of the night like usual’ he thought to himself. He decided to pack his belongings and continue his journey. To find the people that he knew could help him find the thing that killed his family. The famous hunters Dean and Samuel Winchesters.

He’ve been traveling around America to find the famous brothers. Some of the hunters he met on his way to find them gave him a little image of what kind of people he’s triying to find. Disguising as a hunter never got him questioned by asking about the brothers. He went from town to town where he heard strange death cases happened knowing better that those cases most likely supernatural influenced. But never once did he cross their path, he did once saw two mens in an Impala rode past him, thought thet they were just ordinary people but turned out they’re the brothers he’s been looking for. It’s been two weeks since that day and now he’s getting closer to them. He can feel it, no… he knew it because no matter where, he could see their trace. One of the things he can do, he could look into the past of someone, place, or things if he wanted to, hell he can even see to the future if he want to. And from the last case the brothers solved, he found their trace, he heard it himself where the brothers are coming back to Lebanon, Kansas.

After three days in town he finally found the brothers in the Bar that night. One of them is flirting and picking up on a random girl just to fuck them he guessed, and one of them is just sitting on the stool and taking his shots. Just like what those hunters said, the one that likes hitting on the girl is the older one, and the tall dude is the younger one. He decided to wait untill they leave, but damn that’s a hard thing to do. (Y/N) is not a Bar type of guy, hell he never once set foot in one. But tonight he had to keep up with the act to blend in, knowing well enough not to talk to them directly at least yet. He sat in a booth on the corner, hidden from the brothers, but he can still see them. 12.30 am the older brother leave to god knows where, surely to fuck that girl he was hitting on. But the younger one still there, turning down the girls that aproached him. (Y/N) don’t need to wait for long untill the younger winchester got up slightly wobly but not drunk.

He walked down the street, to the direction that (Y/N) knows leading to the woods. He watched as the giant wobling around following him in the shadows. He follows him far into the woods, until the time he turned and dissapeared. (Y/N) stood there, in the middle of the woods only companied by the light from the moon, he lost the men he’s been looking for. Then he decide to do what he know, look for his trace. Crouching on the ground and putting his hand on them. (Y/N) closed his eyes, concentrating on what he wanted to see, three minutes ago before that men dissapeared. He opened his eyes and his eyes shines the color of bright purple indicating his power on work. He closed them again after seeing what he wanted, the men did dissapeared into a place he couldn’t see. How in the world did he not see this coming ? They obviously put a ward to protect their place “Fuck!” He whisper yelled. Realising that the oods to meet them again is thin. He walked back to the direction to the town heading to the motel he temporarily stayed in.

Sam’s POV

Here I am standing on the other side of the ward concealing the Bunker, watching as the boy that followed me crouched on the ground and his eyes shone purple for a few seconds before they finaly closed. He gripped his hair and cursed in a whispered voice. I have no idea why this boy is following me, being a hunter for so long made me could sense if someone or something is up to no good. But this boy is different, aside from his glowing purple eyes, he doesn’t seemed as a threat. He seemed desperate to me, somehow he reminded me of myself and Dean when we lost Marry, when we lost John, and Bobby. I was sad and lost, i realised that the boy is on the young side, maybe early twenties. I watched as he disappearing from my sight into the woods.

I woke up late this morning, maybe around 10 or so. Dean hasn’t be back yet I assumed he done it a lot or he was doing it again after they woke up. I decided to change and go for a run, once i’m outside the bunker I wasn’t ready for what I see. There he stood, the boy from last night on the same spot he lost me. I stand there in front of him for a good three minutes observing him. Here under the sunlight I can see him clearly, his rather tall figure, he’s not muscular like me or Dean but I can sense that he’s not weak either. Then i looked into his eyes and somehow it looks void, not without emotion, but just void like there’s something he hides from everyone. I’m debating ewther or not steping out of the ward and talk to him, he doesn’t look dangerous at all, but Dean would be pissed if i reveal the location of the Bunker to someone we don’t know. I looked into his eyes again as he seemed to just stares straight to my direction. I there must be a reason for him to follow me, I need to know it, before Dean came back and beat the shit out of this Boy for following me. I was just about to step out of the ward but Dean is already back.

Dean’s POV

“What time is it ?” I woke up and asked to the blonde I fucked last night. She was already up and heading to the bathroom. “Oh.. it’s five past ten James, I’ll take a shower and after that maybe we can have a abreakfast ?” She asked me and batting her lashes. “Oh yeah… take your time..” Once she locked the bathroom I sillently put on my clothes and head out to Baby. I drove from the Motel leaving her there, don’t have intentions more than a good fuck from her. It’s been a while since I picked a random chick at a bar and fucked them, since so many things happening in my life I don’t feel the need to get attached to someone. I have Sammy and that’s what matter, we stick together just like what I think John wanted us to. Drive to the Bunker is rather short, when I entered the path leading there, I saw that men, a boy. Standing right in front of the ward surrounding the Bunker. “Shit ! what is he? Demon ? Angel how did he even find the Bunker” I mutered to myself as I grabed a gun and open Baby’s door. “Rise your hands ! Who are you and what are you doing here ?” I pointed my gun at him. I watched him as he turned and raising both of his hands. “Please don’t kill me… I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) I’m here to meet you and your brother.” His voice sounded rather shaky. “Why are you looking for us ?” “I need your help… my family was killed and I need your help to find the killer.” “You think we’re a fucking detective? Go find a police !” I snorted at his answer, not believing what he just said. I was about to make a coment again before he cut me off “But the killer is not human!..” I just stare at him for a moment observing if his body language showing a sign of lie. But there’s none. “ How do you know it’s not a human?” “I… I know it because I can see the past… I saw him the thing that killed my family. And he’s not a human, I’m sure because human does’t have horns and tail.” He answered with a firmer voice. “You can see the past? What are you ? How do I know that it’s not just you making up stories to get trough us and kill us?” “I can show you the prove, just please don’t kill me and let’s talk…” He looks at me with pleading eyes, bigger that any men’s eyes I’ve ever seen. Bright under the sunlight but at the same time it’s void. It lacked of something, he looked lost just like when I told Sam that our Mom is gone, like when I see his eyes after we lost John and Bobby. He made me feel strange, he made me feel like I want to walk there to him and wrap my arms around him and comfort him. Just by looking into his eyes, I want to tell him eveything’s gonna be alright…’Wait What ???’. I lowered my gun and decided to give him a chance. “Talk!” I ordered him He flinced slightly at my voice, but somehow his reaction made something stir inside of me. I don’t know what but it’s strange. “I’m from (Y/Address/States) I lived with my grandpa and twelve other children, they’re al orphans. One day I came back from grocery shopping and the were already dead. Bloods everywhere, but they didn’t have any scars. It all came out of their nose, mouth, ears, eyes… it’s not a human’s work.” He started to tremble, but I’m still worried that it might be just an act. So I pushed him further. “You said you can see to the past, how do I know you’re not a witch and…” “I’m not ! You bastard… you think I would travel around America looking for you for help if I’m a witch ? You think that I came her to kill you ? Hell I don’t even know you…. I came looking for you because I’m desperate… Police surely can’t find him they never would.. And people don’t even belive me back there.. They always see me as a crazy boy whose family murdered that talks nonsense about demons. And this thing?..” He pointed to his eyes “…I got it from my father, a father that left me and my mom even before I can remember what he looks like! “ At this point I really don’t know what to do. I didn’t expect him to broke down sobbing in front of me. I feel guilty, to be the one that made him in this state. My body reacting faster than my brain, before I know it I was there next to him, attempting to hold him and tell him that I’m sorry. But Sam was faster than me………..

Tags :  @thegreatficmaster @supernaturalimagine @supernaturaldaily @waywardwinterfics @buckyywiththegoodhair @angryschnauzer @mrgrant9559-blog @kaylzjordan @rawritsmeh @supernaturalfanfiction-com @after-avenging-hours @winchesterenthusiast​ @themerlintrashcan​wayward-warrior-universe @themorningtrashcan @izzywinchester

[avidbeader]

Still more of the Sheith soulmates AU

Still pondering title possibilities. Still writing a Voltron fanfic featuring Shiro and Keith as soulmates. Still T-rated. Still interested to hear feedback.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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Keith drove south, keeping away from roads as much as possible. He had a destination in mind, if he could find it again after so many years.

About three hours later, he spotted what looked like a light in the distance. As he got closer, he realized that the light was the moon reflecting off of something. He approached more slowly, not wanting to run into anyone.

But as he topped a rise to find a large, flat valley, he saw a small house come into view. The remains of a fence circled it and a lone tree rose behind it. There were no vehicles around, no sign of any road or path leading away. He drove closer and noticed that one of the dark windows was missing a pane of glass. That was the clearest sign that this place was abandoned—given the amount of sand and grit blown about in the desert, that would have been fixed immediately.

Keith moved closer and saw what the moonlight had picked up. A metal addition, almost like a bunker, nestled up against the side of the house. The door was shut tight, whatever was inside still protected. He pulled the hoverbike up next to the bunker and dismounted.

The door had a simple keypad lock with four numbers more worn than the rest. He began going through the twenty-four possible permutations and got the combination right on the fifth try. He opened the door, fishing out a palm-sized flashlight and shining it around.

The enclosed room had a bed, a table, and a corner piled high with pallets of water bottles and stacks of canned goods. Keith pulled out his pocket tablet and checked his location through the GPS. He was about fifty miles west of his intended destination, an abandoned town that he and his father had come across while exploring the region on camping trips. The nearest inhabited town on the map was another sixty miles south and east.

This could work.

He brought in his own food supply and the duffle bag, leaving the money in the hoverbike’s hold for now. He investigated for any wildlife, but the metal walls had done their job and there were no potentially poisonous visitors. Checking inside the house proper, he found a main room with a kitchen setup in one corner and a door that led to a small bathroom. The main room was indeed covered in a thick layer of dust and sand, but the bathroom was mostly clean behind its closed door and functional once Keith opened the water supply from a well.

He washed up, getting the accumulated road grime off, and changed into fresh clothes. He returned to the bunker and stretched out on the bed.

As he waited for sleep, he followed the soul bond to Shiro, sending one more reinforcing message of love and support. Shiro responded, assuring him that he was safe for the moment, and then a wave of contentment that felt different…

Was that a purr? Since when did Shiro purr at him?

<> <> <> <> <>

Katie was sitting on her hands, hiding the fact that she had fingers crossed on both of them. She had been in a holding area of the campus security office for twenty minutes now, waiting as they summoned her mother. If they would only send her mom in first, she could whisper to her that she had proof that Dad and Matt and Shiro were alive. Then hopefully the force of nature that was Colleen Holt when she was furious would erupt.

She heard the outer door open and her mother’s voice rose over the rumble of Iverson. After a few minutes of heated arguing, footsteps sounded and the door in front of her opened.

“Kathryn—”

Katie launched herself before the full name could be drawn out and buried her face next to her mother’s neck as she embraced her. She whispered urgently, “They’re alive! I found proof! We have to get out of here!”

She felt her mother stiffen for a heartbeat then straighten and turn around. Iverson tried to loom over them, but Colleen Holt drew in breath and jabbed her finger into his chest.

“I hold you and the Garrison responsible for the deaths of my husband and son. You pushed for this mission. You chose Captain Shirogane as your best pilot. You are refusing to even consider assembling a rescue team for them. You won’t show us your evidence that it was Captain Shirogane’s mistake that killed them. Is it any wonder that Katie looked for answers when you refuse to give them to us?”

“Be that as it may, your daughter is now permanently banned from this installation for her security breach!”

Her mom grabbed her arm. “That will not be a problem as we are never coming near you again!” She dragged Katie out, her head held high.

One of Iverson’s aides ushered them to a hovercar and drove them back across the base to their quarters. “We have reservations for you at the main hotel in town, ma’am. I’ll wait here while you finish packing.”

Colleen nodded. “We won’t take more than a few minutes. We were pretty much packed for our flight anyway.”

Katie kept silent until they were in the hotel room, at which point her mother rounded on her. “What on God’s green earth were you thinking, Katie? Breaking into a government building? Hacking a computer with classified information?”

She reached down and dug the flash drive out from where it had wedged between her foot and her sneaker. She would have a hell of a blister for a few days…

“The night of the press conference, I was out in one of the courtyards and saw Iverson stop a cadet from barging in. The cadet swore that Shiro was alive, was certain of it. So I decided to investigate. I pulled video files off Iverson’s computer that show Shiro landed the ship safely. They were starting work on collecting Dad’s ice samples and just…disappeared.”

“How did a cadet know what happened?”

“Remember how Matt said Shiro had a soulmate?”

Colleen sank to sit on the bed, her mind floundering to make sense of it all. “Sam made arrangements with a doctor…”

“Do you remember the soulmate’s name?”

“No. I have to call the Shiroganes…I have to let them know. They might have his name. But how can we fight this?”

Katie drew a deep breath. “I have an idea about that.”

<> <> <> <> <>

Twenty-six days. It had been twenty-six days, going by the daily food drops, since Shiro had been returned to the cell in the original arena. There had been no fights, no glimpse of Matt or Ch’varr or the others. Shiro began exercising as best he could just to alleviate the boredom: pushups, sit-ups, squats, anything that kept him moving. After the second day of this, they started bringing in a fresh uniform every day. With fresh clothes and the water from the tiny faucet in the corner, he could keep himself relatively clean. At the moment the situation was almost tolerable; if he only knew that Matt and Sam were all right.

When Keith was awake, Shiro followed the bond, trying to sort out what the hell had happened. All he could get was that there had been an attempt to break their bond and Keith had run from the Garrison because of it. He was currently somewhere isolated, but somewhere that felt reasonably safe for now.

<> <> <> <> <>

Keith excavated the house in stages. He started by putting a temporary patch over the broken window and working to get the layers of sand and dirt out. As he cleaned, he made a full inventory of what was in the house and bunker, weeding out the unusable and rearranging what was salvageable to his preferences. He figured out how to reset the code for locking the bunker and brought the grant money inside. He made a list of necessities, counted out some cash, and set off early one morning.

He skipped the nearest small town, going another seventy miles to the next one. He started at the public library, filling out a visitors’ card with fake information so he could access their computers.

He had drafted the message so many times in his head on the drive but still needed almost the full hour to get it sent.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Shirogane,

This is Keith. I am so sorry for not getting in touch before now, but as you will read, things went downhill very quickly after Takashi and the team made it to Kerberos.

The Garrison lied to you. Takashi did not crash the ship. I could feel it when they made it there and landed successfully. I was with Dr. Hooper at the time and she recorded all the things that showed that he and I are still connected.

He is alive. I think he and the Holts were taken prisoner by an alien force. What I get from the link now suggests that they’re forcing him to fight for them—he often feels sick at the idea of having to kill.

I don’t have a way to contact Mrs. Holt. I’m pretty sure they survived as well, or at least Shiro thinks so. He worries about them a lot. Could you let her know for me? I don’t know when I might be able to write you again.

I’m not at the Garrison anymore. Iverson lied to me about what they were going to do about the situation, then put me off. And then he was part of an attempt to break the bond between Shiro and me. So I ran. I’m somewhere at the moment where I can take care of myself and stay hidden—I can’t risk the Garrison finding me in case they try to take the bond away again.

I will try to contact you if anything changes.

Keith

 <> <> <> <> <>

Haggar spent every spare moment for quintants watching Prisoner 117-9875 through a scrying spell. She had ordered total seclusion for now—she didn’t want to risk him dying in an arena fight but she didn’t want to bring him to anyone else’s attention yet by having him brought to her lab. She wanted to examine what she was dealing with first.

This alien was intriguing, to say the least. She had Ulaz’ report from the initial examination of a fairly typical bipedal race: average brains, hearts on the small side for their size, rather sturdy in muscle and bone structure. There was variation among them in size and coloring, comparing the records of this alien with the other two of his type.

She almost admired how this alien, when completely isolated, invented a discipline for himself. He would exercise his body several times a day. He took full advantage of the water supply in the cell both to drink and to try and keep himself clean. Haggar arranged for clean clothing to be delivered, curious to see how encouraging the discipline would affect this connection of his.

It was always there, this strange quintessence. After a few days of close study, Haggar was able to identify the structure: it was actually two different life forces, but they harmonized together in a way she had never seen before, allowing both to reside in this alien’s body without harm. This was unheard of in her long experience—it took magic to transfer quintessence from one body to another, to refine it into a form that could be transferred. And yet there was no sign of magic around this alien that she could find.

He would take several opportunities each quintant to simply lie on the cot, close his eyes, and slip into a meditative state. At these points, the beacon of quintessence between him and the other source usually strengthened in power and intensity. He would rise from these sessions with a jarring blend of contentment and stress. Whatever happened renewed him but also caused him worry.

Finally, on the twenty-seventh quintant, the overseer dared to come to her directly. “Mistress Haggar, we need the prisoner you requisitioned. He drew notice from the betting public at his last victory and the bookmakers are clamoring to know when he will appear again.”

Haggar’s eyes narrowed as she considered. The prisoner’s current situation was not giving her any new information. Perhaps it was time to replicate the environment where his quintessence had first shone so brightly.

“Very well. You may return him to his group.”

The overseer made a face. “That group is getting boring. They’ve managed to create a strong team since losing the Velkyn. They’re bringing down beasts with minimal injuries now.”

“Then perhaps we should bring them a new challenge. Have them fight one by one.”

“That would help, mistress, but that arena’s main draw is the beasts.”

“Perhaps we can change things a little, surprise the spectators with a well-known name. Have them take turns with Myzax.”

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Thank you to every single one of you who has liked/reblogged the story or messaged me. I really appreciate knowing that people are enjoying this.

Part 6

[shaunstoffer]

Why did I end up in Washington D.C.? Truthfully, why not? It was my birthday that week, I found a $130 round-trip plane ticket, had a few old friends living there who I didn’t mind visiting, and wanted to see what the difference was seeing DC on a field as an 8th grade as opposed to a soon to be twenty-eight year old man. What was I trying to find? Hidden gems. Every tour guide can tell you about the Lincoln Memorial and the Smithsonian museums, but not all can tell you where to get the freshest oysters on the half shell, where to find the best food trucks, or where to tailgate before a pro baseball game – but I can.

Spent my first night in DC exploring “Barracks Row” and found some awesome spot like Hank’s Oyster Bar and the Barrel where I indulged in a variety of a dozen oysters on the half shell, blood orange cheesecake, local draft beers, and then ventured into a whiskey lounge where I blew some hard earned cash to sip some proper, aged, single barrel whiskeys like Blanton’s.

Food trucks are everywhere in DC, but surprisingly expensive! A soda costs around $3 and simple meals like a cheeseburger and fries will cost around $7-$10. However, I spotted a Vietnamese food truck and couldn’t resist. I ordered and started a conversation using only Vietnamese. The staff couldn’t believe it and complimented my pronunciation. I got a “bun bo Hue” a type of beef noodle soup that originated in Vietnam’s ancient city called Hue. I’m used to it costing less than a $1 in Vietnam, here it was $11, but I have to say it was as authentic as it gets.

Inside of the United States Botanic Garden!

The Bullpen is a tailgating space located right next to the Washing National Stadium which is basically a parking lot surrounded by shipping containers with a giant projector screen playing the game. People come to tailgate and some just decide to stay in order to save on tickets and food and drink prices as well as not have to deal with the lines.

I’m at the Nationals vs. White Sox game. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I’m enjoying myself.

Today, I realized I’ve been doing seafood wrong the entire time I’ve been in DC. The Wharf in DC has a selection of dockside seafood markets offering FRESH lobsters, crawfish, oysters, clams, blue crabs and more for less than half the price you’d get at an oyster bar or crawfish restaurant. Today, I got a pound of crawfish for $6 and half a dozen oysters for $8 all ready to eat with sauces and seasonings. Then, I simply strolled to a pier bar that allowed outside food and washed it down with a cold Pacifico and enjoyed the view. Mistakes were made, but I’m glad I got to eat like a local at last.

The inside of some of the Smithsonian Museums and National Gallery of Art.

Exploring DC’s Eastern Market and trying their famous crab cake sandwich!

I’m used to a life in southeast Asia where you have to always be on guard. Dog thieves, motorcycle snatchers, pickpockets, mafia, corrupt police and more. Today, I decided to learn the DC metro and within 5 minutes of trying to figure out how to purchase the right pass a woman randomly walks up and asks if I’m trying to purchase a metro card. Before I could even respond, she tells me she has an extra metro card at home and hands me hers. Shocked, I just tell her thank you and she smiles, nods, and walks off. My point being, and what I’ve been preaching, kindness is free. Not always the act itself, but the choice to be so is. “Be the change you wish to see in the world”

Say what you want about Trump, but his hotel is an awesome piece of architecture!

So, in DC people tie their dogs up outside of a business when they want to go shopping and it’s not considered a big deal. Well, being me, I thought all the good boys deserved lots of pets and wanted to take a selfie with yours truly. Meet my buddy big, good, blonde boy.

This bar, called The Barrel, had an underground dive that acted as a separate entity, but shared the building space. The bartender ironically had a Vietnamese wife and I wrote down some compliments for him to write to her. In return, he gave me some free drinks out of these tiki glasses resembling Trump, Obama, and someone who I don’t recognize.

I get all the time how people are jealous of my travels or are living vicariously through me. Truth is, there are plenty of days when things go wrong, bad weather, delayed flights, unbearable crowds, getting sick, traffic jams, or, in this case, seeing the famous Tidal Basin drier than a bone. In the end, it’s all good, no one died and I still got to see and do some amazing things. I’ve drank wine in the Eiffel Tower, stood on top of Hitler’s bunker, and celebrated New Year’s Eve in Amsterdam. Life is always worth living no matter your past or current situation.

I quickly realized that in DC the majority of attractions are grouped together. The easiest way to get around is to use the metro, rent-able scooters which are everywhere in DC, or walk. I prefer walking because I stumble upon the best little hidden gems that way. And, when walking, the US Capitol and the Washington Monument are basically your North Stars for when you get lost or second guess your location.

These scooters are everywhere in DC and rent-able through multiple phone apps. I never tried one because, to be honest, I was worried I’d start driving like I was back in Vietnam. Running red lights, not yielding, and having a complete disregard for life and the laws.

My birthday gift to myself was a box seat to see the National Symphony Orchestra. I was the only one wearing jeans, a sweater, and sneakers in the Kennedy Center Concert Hall, but I also had one of the best box seats in the house. Throwing myself into concert halls and quickly learning Aaron Copeland, Manuela De Falla, and Antonin Dvorak.

When you’ve been exploring the Smithsonian museums for the past 6 hours and walked over 7 miles somehow.

Flying out from BWI Airport at 6am didn’t seem like a bad idea, right? Nope! The security line was so overwhelmed it took nearly an hour to get through and people were visibly upset. I came with plenty of time to spare so, for the most part, I just turned on Pandora and let it ride as complaining wasn’t going to do me any good!

Exploring Washington, D.C. Why did I end up in Washington D.C.? Truthfully, why not? It was my birthday that week, I found a $130 round-trip plane ticket, had a few old friends living there who I didn't mind visiting, and wanted to see what the difference was seeing DC on a field as an 8th grade as opposed to a soon to be twenty-eight year old man.