#And he got a push in the other direction instead. Enter baseball bat murder as the slip down the slope

[hajihiko]

You could say they ... see eye to eye

[in-ky]

Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster  and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

[fandomrewrites]

Season 3a; Episode 10: The Overlooked

Hello all! Just a few more chapters of season 3a and then I’ll be taking a short hiatus from this story. I’ve been really struggling with motivation but don’t worry, that does not mean I am giving up on writing it! Please answer my pinned post and as alway constructive criticisms is appreciated! Also remember to let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Season 3a; Episode 10: The Overlooked

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend

Warnings: Just the typical teen wolf things

Word Count: 2,756

Season 3a Masterlist

Stiles, Scott, and I hide in the shadows of Derek's loft. We just finished telling him that our teacher, Jennifer Blake, is the Darach. Not even a minute later the steel door slides open and Ms. Blake calls out, "Derek? Derek, where are you?"

Derek steps out of the dark, "Right here."

She spins around so she can properly face him, "Thank God." She runs over, wrapping the Alpha in a tight hug. "Something happened at the recital. At the school. I need to tell you before you hear it- before you hear any of it from them."

"From who?" Derek asks.

"(Y/N), Scott, Stiles- they're going to tell you things. Things you can't believe. You have to trust me, okay? You trust me."

"What is it?"

"Promise you'll listen to me."

"I promise." Ms. Blake presses her lips to Derek's right after the words leave his mouth. When he doesn't kiss back she pulls away.

"They're already here, aren't they?" The three of us step out of our hiding spot. Ms. Blake backs away, like she's afraid of us. "So they told you it was me? That I'm the one taking people?"

"We told him you're the one killing people." Scott corrects.

"Oh, that's right. Committing human sacrifices. Cutting their throats? I probably do it during my lunch hour. That way I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day. That makes perfect sense."

"Where's my dad?" Stiles shakily asks.

"How would I know? Derek, tell me you don't believe this."

"Do you know what happened to Stiles' father?" Derek questions.

"No. I have no idea."

"Well, how about why you almost killed Lydia?" I ask, my glare hardening.

"Lydia Martin? I don't know anything about that."

"What do you know?" Derek snaps.

"I know these three teenagers, for whatever misguided reason, are filling your head with an absurd story. One they can't prove, by the way."

"What if we could?" Scott asks, stopping Ms. Blake from continuing her rant.

She looks away from Derek and back over to Scott, finally noticing the vial in his hand. "What is that?"

"Mistletoe. My boss told me it's a poison and a cure. Which means you can use it, but it can also be used against you." Scott throws the mistletoe at Ms. Blake. She raises her hands but we can all still see how her face changes to show the slashed face of the Darach.

Derek flinches like he was punched then as soon as the dust settles he rushes towards Ms. Blake, grabbing her by her throat. "No, Derek wait- wait, just wait. You need me."

"What are you?" Derek asks through gritted teeth.

"The only person who can save your sister." Derek freezes, "Call Peter. Call him."

Once Derek is off the phone with Peter he starts squeezing Jennifer's throat harder. "Derek? What are you doing?" Scott questions.

Jennifer chokes out, "Her life- it's in my hands."

"Stop. Derek, stop." Stiles calls out.

"Stilinski-you'll never find him."

"Derek, enough!" I yell at the Alpha, hoping he'll listen to me.

Finally he releases his grip, "That's right. You need me. All of you."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 In Stiles' jeep, we follow Derek's car to the hospital. "We're going to find your Dad." Scott says.

"Alive." I add.

Stiles sighs, "How do we know he's not already..."

"He's not. We're going to find him." Scott reassures.

"Something feels wrong about this. We proved it to Derek, but she had this look like it didn't matter. Like it was all still going according to plan. You saw it, didn't you?"

Scott reluctantly nods as I answer, "Yeah, and I have a feeling."

"You have a feeling?"

"I have a feeling." I confirm.

"Danger sense?" Scott asks.

"It- it's not the danger sense. More like a pre- danger sense. I know something bad is going to happen but it doesn't feel like someone's going to die."

"Well, that could be a good thing."

I shrug, "It could be."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Once at the hospital Stiles parks the jeep beside Derek's car. The hospital is in a frenzy due to people evacuating because of the storm. Stiles pulls a wooden baseball bat out of his car, causing Scott and I to pause. "You got claws. I got a bat."

We enter the hospital through a side door, stopping when we hear our mom call, "(Y/N), Scott?" We turn to look at her as she continues, "What are you doing here? The hospital's evacuating." 

"We're here for Cora." Scott answers.

"All of you? And why does Stiles have a bat?"

"Mom, trust me on this. You need to get out of here. Right now." 

She looks past Scott and I to see Derek holding on to Jennifer, "The building is supposed to be clear in thirty minutes. We've got two more ambulances coming back. One is ten minute's out. The other's twenty. Cora needs to be on one of those. They'll be picking up in the basement garage."

"Got it, be safe." I say, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"You too." She whispers, watching us walk away.

In the elevator we all keep a close eye on Jennifer. "You don't need to keep me on a leash, Derek. I'm going to help." We all stay silent, Derek still tightly gripping her upper arm.

One we step out of the elevator Derek lets go of Jennifer to look for his sister. Instead of seeing Cora and Peter we see an empty bed and black throw up on the floor. "Derek." Scott calls, gesturing in the direction of the black drops.

We carefully walk towards the double doors, but before we can push them open a body soars through them. Groaning, Peter looks up, "We got a problem." He turns his attention back towards who attacked him, "Big problem." Through the doors are the twins in their combined Alpha form.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Derek, Scott, and I all quickly switch to our werewolf forms. I try and attack but am quickly overpowered. The twins throw me into the wall, "Ethan, Aiden-stop. You don't know what you're doing." Scott says.

"All we want is her." The twins say, gesturing towards Jennifer, who is slipping back into the elevator.

"That bitch." I grunt out as I shove myself off the floor. We all quickly run away from the twins. We run behind Stiles, Peter, and an unconscious Cora, who is being carried in Peter’s arms. 

Stiles, trying to be helpful, decides to try and take the twins by surprise. He hides next to the door and once the twins walk through he swings the bat at their face. The bat breaks as it comes in contact with their cheek.

The twins turn towards Stiles, who now has a look of pure horror on his face, and roars. Stiles begins to take steps back to put as much distance between himself and the twins as possible. 

I hear Scott say to Derek, "Give me a lift." Then a few seconds later Scott is flying through the air, ripping out the light fixture, and sending it to land on the twins head.

I quickly grab a hold of Stiles, getting him to run with me away from the twins. 

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Peter and Stiles rush into an operating room. Derek, Scott and I are right behind them. "Where's the big guy?" Peter asks once he puts Cora down.

"Close." Derek states.

"What about Ms. Blake?" Stiles questions.

Scott and I shake our heads, "The last I saw her she was getting into the elevator." I answer.

"What? Like she's gone?" Stiles asks.

"Quiet." Derek scolds.

"Me by quiet? You're telling me what to do? When your psychotic mass murdering girlfriend- the second one you've dated by the way- has my dad tied up somewhere waiting to be ritually sacrificed?"

I walk over to Stiles and gently grab his face, "Hey, hey. He's going to be alright. I promise. Just breath, okay?"

"You can't promise that, (Y/N/N)."

"I just did. And I don't break my promises." Stiles swallows and nods.

From behind me, Scott asks Peter, "Is she really dying?"

"She's definitely not getting any better." Peter answers, looking down at his niece. As Peter answers, I finally let go of Stiles’ face so we can both properly listen in to the conversation.

"There has to be something we can do. We have to help her."

"You can't." We all turn to the new voice. Jennifer is back, standing on the opposite side of the room, "Only I can. I can save her and I can tell you where Sheriff Stilinski is. But there's a pack of Alpha's in this hospital who want me dead. I'll help you only when I'm out of here and safe. Only then."

Derek instantly tries to attack her but Scott stops him. "Derek, wait-"

"She was trying to get out."

"I was trying to keep from getting killed. You can't blame me for that." Jennifer argues.

"You want to show us you're one of the good guys?" Stiles asks, he then points to Cora, "Heal her."

"Not until I'm safe."

"That doesn't seem fair. We need two things from you yet you only need one from us. How do we know that the minute we get you to safety you won't just take off?" I ask.

Jennifer shakes her head, "I've never met a Zeta before but if they're anything like you I really hope I don't meet anymore."

"Yeah, well this Zeta isn't particularly fond of you either."

"I'd like to volunteer a different method of persuasion." Peter pipes up, "How about we torture her?"

"Works for me." Derek replies.

At the same time I say, "Sounds like a plan."

Before we get the chance to act on our threat, the PA system crackles to life. "Um... Can I have your attention."

"Mom?" I whisper.

"Mr. Deucalion- excuse me, just Deucalion- requests you bring the woman calling herself Jennifer Blake to the ER reception. Do this and everyone else can leave. You have ten minutes."

"He's not going to hurt her." Jennifer says the second the PA clicks off.

"Shut up." Derek snaps.

"He won't. Scott, you know why. Tell them it's true."

"What does she mean?" 

"Scott?" I ask, looking at my twin.

"You're not the only one he wants in his pack." Jennifer continues. "Deucalion doesn't just want an Alpha pack. He wants perfection. That means adding the rarest of Alphas to his ranks."

"A True Alpha." Peter says, a look of awe on his face.

"What's that?" Stiles asks.

"The kind that doesn't have to steal the power from another. The kind that can rise by their own force of will. Our little Scott."

"It doesn't matter." Scott says, he nods to Jennifer, "We still have to get her out of here."

Jennifer smirks, "You don't realize that it's not just you he wants." 

"What's that supposed to mean? Why would he want-" I pause, cutting myself off. "He wants me?"

Jennifer nods, "Took you long enough to figure it out. You may not be an Alpha, but Zeta's are incredibly powerful. And if he can find an Alpha for you to kill, maybe even sacrificing one of his own, you'll be even stronger."

There's a brief pause, Scott finally breaks it, "We need a plan to get her out of here."

"But your mom-" Stiles tries to argue.

"My mom said there was one more ambulance coming in twenty minutes. I don't think we've been here that long. If we could get down to the garage, we could get that last ambulance and get out of here."

"The twins aren't going to just let us walk out the door." Peter states.

"I'll distract them."

"You mean fight them." Derek says.

"Whatever I have to do."

"I'll help."

"Sorry, but I'm not going anywhere without you, Derek." Ms. Blake interrupts.

"I'll do it. But I'd prefer going out there with an advantage." Peter says.

"What's that mean? Like a weapon?" Stiles asks.

"Something better than a baseball bat, yes." We quickly start looking around the room trying to find something that Peter could use to aid him in the fight against the twins. 

Stiles raises a set of defibrillator paddles, "Do you even know how to use those?" Derek asks.

"No." Stiles replies.

"Then put them down."

"Epinephrine?" Scott asks, holding up a syringe with a clear liquid inside.

"That would just make them stronger," I answer, not looking up from my search.

I only stop looking around when I hear Peter ask, "How strong?"

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Stiles and I lead Jennifer and Derek, with a still unconscious Cora, through the garage. "It's still here." Stiles states when he sees the ambulance parked.

Derek places his sister down on the gurney then walks over to Jennifer who just called his name. Stiles and I then hear Kali calling for Ms. Blake, though she calls her Julia, the name that Jennifer used to go by.

I quickly push Stiles into the back of the ambulance then hop in behind him, shutting the doors. I put a finger to my lips telling him to stay quiet.

When I know that Kali, Derek, and Jennifer are gone I look at Stiles, "Lock the doors behind me."

"(Y/N), what are you-" I don't let him finish the question though because I am already out of the door and moving heading back into the hospital.

Rushing inside, I strain my ears to hear anyone that is on my side. I tilt my head, listening to some people talking. I quickly realize that it's Isaac, Allison, and Mr. Argent and make my way to them. 

"What are you guys doing here?" I ask as I walk about behind them.

Argent turns around quickly, his gun aimed at my head. "Woah, just me." I state, raising my hands in surrender. 

Argent lowers the gun. "Don't sneak up on us next time."

"Noted. But seriously why are you here? The hospital is supposed to be evacuated and it's really not safe here with the Alpha pack on a rampage."

Allison opens her mouth to explain but before she can we hear Scott, "Allison?"

All together now Scott explains to us that Jennifer and Derek are stuck in the elevator. "So they're essentially trapped?" Argent asks.

Scott nods. "There's no way to get them out without turning the power back on?" Isaac questions.

"Wait, when the power's back on, they'll hear the elevator moving, right?" Mom asks.

"And they'll be on Jennifer and Derek as soon as it stops. we can't get into a fight with them."

"We need a distraction." I say.

"You've got us now." Argent replies.

"It's too much of a risk. They want her dead. And if she dies, there's nothing we can do about Stiles' dad or Cora."

"What if she's lying though? She could be just saying we need her so that we help her." Everyone looks at me with looks of wonder, "What? It's what I would do."

"I am so happy you're not the bad guy. You would be like an evil genius." Allison says, shaking her head with a small smile on her lips.

"I don't even think I know which teacher this is." Argent states.

"She's got brown hair, kind of hot." Isaac starts. We all throw him looks that pretty much say 'what the hell', "Just an observation."

"I've got an idea." Allison says.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Scott and I rush to meet Derek and Jennifer at the open elevator doors. But we stop in shock when we see an unconscious Derek. "Mom." We both whisper together, eyes widening at the realization that Jennifer was in fact lying to us.

"Go!" I scream at Scott. He rushes up to the roof to try and stop Jennifer from taking our mom while I rush to Derek trying to get him to wake up.

"Scott! Scott, wait!" I hear Stiles yell from behind me.

"Why are you here? I thought you were with Cora?" I ask as Stiles makes his way to me.

"They're getting out of here, we need to stop Scott." 

"What? Stiles-" I yell after him, but he doesn't listen as he chases Scott up the stairs.

I shake my head but turn away, trying to wake Derek up once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:  @crazy-fan-101 @rogershoe @judayyyw

[fc5holidayexchange]

An Inconvenient Longing

T- Rating: mentions of violence.

Hey, hey, Happy Holidays! My beta and I had to co-write some of this, especially the end, because I was running a fever for most of the last two weeks. I hope this is okay.

Rook first thought Joseph Seed only referred to his brothers and counterfeit sister as his family. Father, after all, was a common enough title for a priest. None of the Seeds used social media but some members had profiles hiding in strange little corners of the web. Yet, as the investigation wore on, those rare profiles disappeared. The idea filled Rook with a strange longing to delete their own profiles. What had one of the audio files of Seed's sermons said again?

Our family does not live in the digital cloud, or some bullshit.

Yet, like most mildly inconvenient things, Rook shook the longing off. Marshal Cameron Burke made it even easier to shove the feeling into the back of their mind. A kind description of Burke would be 'dedicated to his job'. Rook mentally deemed him a self-important asshole the moment he waltzed into the station. Still, someone had to arrest the guy.

The strange longing didn't strike Rook again until a few days into the Resistance. As they scouted the Durbman Marina one night, they caught sight of a female cultist kicking a vending machine. Although his gentle whisper could barely be made out over Mrs. Durbman's irate words, a male cultist reacted with strange familiarity. "Sister, calm your wrath, please. What would the Father think?"

The two looked nothing alike, didn't even pass as the same race. Rook watched as the woman relaxed into the touch. They didn't catch her response over the sound of their own heartbeat. They fled the scene, and tried to squash the longing. True, Montana was not Rook's home. The other deputies and Whitehorse were not their family. The other fighters were barely even friends. Still, Rook had a job to do.

Learning new skills became the easiest way to distract themselves. Want to lure a Peggie away from a hostage? Blow up a car nearby. Bow hunting? Well, Rook didn't consider themselves to be much of an outdoors person but ammo and food didn't buy themselves. Want to learn rock climbing? Sure, grappling hooks can be useful. Those ridiculous stunt courses some local hero set up? Why not!

It didn't take long for Rook to start traveling alone. They cleared entire outposts without alerting a soul. The missions turned into a twisted but soothing routine. First, survey the area, choke someone out, drag their body to a dark corner, loose an arrow at someone else, turn off the alarms, and call in the Resistance. Rook suspected that they'd need therapy after this violence but that inconvenient line of thought got pushed down with the longing.

Of course, the Seeds didn't let Rook do this undisturbed. Jacob called it 'playing soldier' and threw them into a red-tinted world of horror. Pratt, poor, downtrodden, equally broken Pratt, told them they shouldn't have come. Boy, did they believe it. Fleeing the north made sense. Faith pulled them into The Bliss twice. Images swirled in Rook's head. The Marshal's leap. Jackalopes. Joseph's Vision. The world covered in ashes. No, not ashes. Nuclear. Fucking. Fall. Out.

Oh Lord, the Great Collapse. 

They moved to into Holland Valley. It only took a few interrupted baptisms, complete with drowned VIPs, and exploded silos for John to take notice. Rook's own baptism came with Bliss sparkles and too little oxygen. They stopped drowning VIPs after their escape.

The people of Fall's End did great things to squash the longing. Welcoming folks, with warm flannel and lukewarm beer. Boomer, a trusty old dog, became Rook's constant companion. The Spread Eagle turned into a place that felt like home. Rook saw themselves fitting right in here, when the dust and gunpowder settled. Not a Montanan by blood or upbringing, but by sheer grit.

It all changed when John took Rook again. It should have been straight forward. Get out, preferably quietly, and get back to Fall's End and Boomer. Rook prepared to jump a man kneeling for prayer. Unfortunately, the longing had other plans. The prayer, a simple 'help me accept these people', struck deep. Despite the fact that these people were doing evil, this one man had nearly pure intentions. 

Rook didn't mean to cry. They went from a crouch to sitting awkwardly on the floor like a child.

The man startled and grabbed his baseball bat. "Hello?" Then, just like that, he was squatting in front of them. "Aren't you the Junior Deputy?"

Rook nodded once.

"My name is Eric. Is Rook your name or just something the sheriff's department calls you?"

"It's my first name, yeah. I picked it myself," they croaked.

Eric took a deep breath, straightened up, and offered his hand. "Let's get you back where you belong before John becomes too wrathful. You'll have to confess to trying to escape."

Rook nodded and followed behind Eric. They ignored the staring eyes of the other Peggies until they got back to the torture room. John came bursting through the door they were about to enter. "Brother John, I found Rook."

Rook watched, fascinated, as the televangelist facade slipped onto John's face. Before he could say anything, they blurted out, "My sin is Envy."

John smile turned dark. "Confessions are private, Brother Eric."

"Good luck, Rook." Rook stepped back into the blood soaked room with John. The door slammed and Rook flinched.

"We'll have to do this on the floor, Deputy, since you destroyed your chair. Sit."

Rook found a spot that was mostly dry and sat ungratefully. With their shirt collar ripped, the room felt cold. "What happens now?"

John knelt beside them with a roll of duct tape. "Legs out straight. I need to make sure you won't escape. You must reach Atonement."

Consenting to it all felt strange. John quickly cocooned Rook's legs in tape, like some redneck mermaid. Unlike Eric, there was no compassion or affection in John's eyes. He seemed excited as he moved his equipment to floor level. The light shined painfully in Rook's eyes. "This isn't meant to be comfortable. Let's start at the beginning."

"Well, I said my sin was Envy."

Rook should have expected the smack but it still stung.

"I mean your beginning, dear Deputy."

***

It took hours of punches, smacks, and swallow cuts for John to accept Rook's rather undramatic life story as truth. He examined everything for truth. Yes, their birthday really was Christmas. No, there's no deep reason why they aren't close to their retired parents anymore. Yes, they'd legally changed their name to Rook when they were 22 and stupid just because they wanted to. Weren't you a lawyer John? Those things are public record. Fuck, there wasn't even a noble reason they moved to Montana and joined the Sheriff's Department. It was just a job.  They were pretty confident they had never spoken about themselves that much. Everything hurt, seven their throat. Satisfied, John stood. "Now, why Envy?"

Through their sore throat, they whispered, "I envy the Project's sense of community." The room fell into a tense silence. Rook closed their eyes, expecting a kick. 

"Why is that a sin, Deputy?" Since they closed their eyes, they only felt John push the ripped fabric of their shirt aside and the tattoo gun buzz to life. "Come on now, open your eyes."

Rook didn't. "Because there's a community in Fall's End that isn't a brutal, murdering, doomsday cult?" The attempt at snark came out weak, with a questioning tone that turned into a painful cough.

"No, Deputy, try again. Surely you can figure it out." The buzzing temporarily stopped. "Hold still. It's not supposed to be only an E."

Rook took a deep breath to stop the coughing fit and raced through every impression they had of the cult and John. What did he want them to say? It was the truth. In those moments of profound loneliness, they could have gone to the jail, or the Whitetail Milita or talked to Father Jerome instead of the dog. As far as they could tell, it was an honest confession. They opened their eyes.

John sighed, then stood again, walking back his tool bench. "Deputy, Deputy, Deputy. Should we add pride as well?"

"Joseph does disappointed better than you." A familiar flash of anger crossed his features, like the moment he almost drowned them. Inspiration hit and the lie tumbled out. "I should have said yes. I could have turned myself in at any time. What I wanted was right there and I was too prideful to say yes. Instead, I fought against what I wanted."

"Are you going to say yes now, Deputy? Will you work towards Atonement?"

"Yes."

***

Rook came out of that bunker with three tattoos: Envy, Pride, and Wrath. John explained the last one for them. "You don't kill that many people without being fueled by anger, Deputy." They hadn't expected to come out at all. Waiting for the Collapse in a cell in an abandoned missile silo seemed fitting somehow. Yet, Joseph wanted to ensure a genuine conversion. Rook moved into the Invidia dorm on his little island with only a single radio announcement of their conversion.

Before returning to the island, Rook assumed Joseph's compound housed some of the elites. Instead, it housed everyday Peggies. Devout, yes, but they weren't major players. The only thing they seemed to have in common was a need for Joseph's direct attention. Many beds were empty. On duty elsewhere or dead, Rook didn't dare ask.

A certain familiarity coursed through the compound. Everyone knew everyone's name. Rook expected the Peggies to use all sorts of cruel nicknames for their newest convert but instead 'sibling' slipped out.

Like he did with most people, Joseph called Rook his child, and, more surprisingly, little lamb. Rook's role appeared to be following him, just like Mary's lamb. Rook wasn't extra security, even though they were trained. They weren't allowed weapons. Part of their conditions of atoning for wrath, according to John. Rook didn't understand why Joseph wanted them near. Part of them longed to know but it terrified them

By day three of prayers, sermons, and the random things like gardening, canning, and laundry, Joseph realized Rook wasn't speaking. The group that didn't have guard shifts were eating lunch. Most sat around a picnic table. Those with prominent Sloth tattoos stood. "I watched the play back of your confession, my child. Did I miss the part where you took a vow of silence?"

It took a moment for Rook to catch that he was teasing. "I--I'm sorry?" A rather unfortunate voice crack and a cleared throat later, they tried again. "I'm sorry. I've never been super talkative. I work alone, usually."

"You aren't alone now," a Peggie said. "You have us."

The words, the lie, slipped out naturally. The longing for it not to be a lie bubbled up but they squashed it. "And I'm thankful for it. I just need time to process this."

"Of course you do." Joseph's sympathetic smile seemed almost genuine.

Things fell into a routine. For two weeks, things stayed peaceful. Rook even let themselves smile and relax around Joseph and the cultists. Simple touches stopped making them flinch. Joseph let them work alone with the others while he prayed. Rook helped wherever they were needed. Weapons were still, regretfully, off limits. Rook understood why, but the lull in action made all the inconvenient thoughts simmer on the surface.

Then, Faith's body washed onto the compound's boat dock. An attempt to take the jail must have gone horribly wrong. Rook had to shut down the part of their brain that enjoyed investigation. Instead, they watched Joseph mourn. Joseph filmed the eulogy alone, just the two of them and a camera on tripod.

Rook stood awkwardly near the door of the Church. "My children, a seal has been open."

Rook quietly stepped outside the church, leaving Joseph to his broadcast. Sitting on the floor, or in this case, the ground, had become an unexpected past time. Rook at for as long as was reasonable and then returned to work.

No new Faith took the mantle but Rook briefly wondered if Joseph meant for them to take the job. He never broached the topic. Joseph withdrew, spending more and more time praying and fasting in the church. Rook made themselves indispensable around compound.

Rook consciously recognized the moment they started believing in the coming Collapse. While waiting for some freshly and taking a break in some shade, it dawned on them. The government didn't react to a Federal Marshal going missing or an entire county going off the map. Hope had decommissioned missile silos. Was that information declassified? Was Hope a target?

Joseph appeared seemingly from nowhere. "My child."

"Father. Forgive my sloth." Rook got to their feet.

"You see now."

"I do." It felt like another confession but they couldn't force out an apology. Something bad coming didn't excuse the kidnapping and murder. Their eyes went to the fence around the property. Despite the longing, they were technically a prisoner.

He did that strange forehead touch. "Child, I have news. Sheriff Whitehorse and Marshal Burke are dead. They were beyond saving."

"Oh." Rook blinked. They expected some inconvenient feelings but nothing came up. It was as if they'd been made blank. "I was only a Deputy for a few months, Father. And, this is an unchristian to say, forgive me, I didn't particularly like Burke. We'd only just met."

"I assumed they were your friends."

"No, Father." Rook didn't feel the need to explain further. "I didn't belong there."

"Do you see where you belong now?" Joseph asked.

"Here?" That longing, inconvenient as it was, surged. Shame came along with it. Murderers, kidnappers, thieves, and Rook wanted to be one of them. Although they would never admit it out loud, they'd been interested in the cult from the beginning.

"Yes, my child. This is your home."

Rook sank into the feeling, the longing finally gone.

[save-the-spiral]

Can you use the random word generator to generate three words, then write a story about an OC of yours who could reasonably fit all three? If you do, thanks :)

Generated Words: Crouch, House, Share. (word generator)

Made a direct continuation of a zombie apocalypse drabble I wrote two years ago, oops! (link to that) I continued it and added on, fleshing out the world and adding in characters of mine >:3

Content warnings for blood, guns, zombies, apocalypse scenarios, implied child abuse, medical stuff mention, and I did accidentally write a tiny gross bit about how bad zombies smell, oops. 

"Thanks again." Haley said.

"No problem! My group tries to help out anyone we can find." Irisi, a tall, lithe woman with pale brown skin and many freckles, was standing confidently, rifle slung over her back, the strap bisecting her heavy trench coat and leather vest underneath. Small dark stains on the coat revealed how she hadn't always been up in a perch when fighting zombies.

"But still-!" Noah was still breathing heavily, eyes fixed on the woman. "You didn't have to, so thanks, really. I don't know what I'd do without Haley."

Haley blushed, turning to look at the horizon. "So, you've got a group?" She changed the subject.

Irisi perked up even more. "Yeah, my dad, my girlfriend, and her brother and dad. Our dads were doctors- a surgeon and family doctor. The rest of us know basic first aid too- that's how we help people, we know our ways around hospitals too, so we've got a stockpile of supplies."  

“Sounds like a good set up.” Noah said blankly. “Well, we should get going, we’re heading across the city-”

“No-!” Irisi cut him off, then awkwardly shuffled in place before talking again. “I mean, you can stay with us. We found this gated community, we cleared it all out- so you can come pick a house and stay.” 

Haley snorted now, mouth twisting into a scowl. “What’s the catch?” 

“Catch?” Irisi’s amber eyes caught the light of the sunset, and she squinted at Haley.

“Yeah. Catch.” Haley’s eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward, Noah automatically moving behind her, unknowingly in sync. “Nothing in this world is free anymore, Irisi.” 

The unspoken knowledge that the world didn’t give a fuck about fairness made Noah want to sigh and just take a year long nap, but it wasn’t the time for that. Maybe later.

“I-” Irisi bit her lip, turning away. “I don’t know what you want me to say here. My group does our best to not hurt or take advantage of others unless provoked. We could meet outside of our base first, if that made you feel better? We wouldn’t have a home advantage or anything?” 

“Fine.” Haley relented, all gratitude gone now, taking her endless anger out on a stranger as opposed to her brother, the only person she cared about nowadays.

Noah stepped in, "There's a cleared out diner two streets away, with the most god awful gold and blue booths inside. We can meet there."

Irisi simply nodded, eyes darting to look at Haley with a new wariness, and ran off, hopping from roof to roof carefully.

"Stop acting like a bitch, Haley." Noah muttered sharply, hefting his golf club back over his shoulder and turning, looking down at the alleyway they had escaped from. The dozen zombies were now feasting on the one Irisi shot. His lip curled with disgust as the undead ripped open their fallen ally, the stench of rotten innards and whatever the zombie had stuffed inside itself now wafting upwards. 

The more recent ones smelled even worse in his opinion, but that's just the combination of fruits and vegetables and whatever processed crap people scavenged and rotted meat. 

"We'll have to get down to the diner, Noah." Haley finally said, her voice small and apologetic in a way that meant more than any 'sorry'. 

"Sure thing, Hales." The nickname was an indicator that everything is okay, so when Noah turned to look at his twin, her shoulders were relaxing slightly. 

Making their way through the streets in early spring was a dichotomy of soft white and pink petals and dried brown splashes of blood, both resting on the concrete and only one temporary. The wind whistled through bare limbs of trees and broken windows, it sent ash and flakes of rust off of the cars that had long been pushed aside to create a clear path down the main boulevard for anyone lucky enough to get a working vehicle. 

In their silence they walk down the middle of the street, cautious of zombies in those cars and in alleyways. In these cities there was a tendency to be so many things that used to be people, especially if they hadn’t been evacuated, and instead quarantined. It hadn't worked, because it could take weeks, even months, for the disease to set in and show any symptoms. So before they knew it an entire city could be dead people walking. 

Sure, they made a vaccine. It worked pretty well, considering the alternative was dying and then becoming a monster. There was too much panic, and no one wanted to trust it. They deluded themselves into thinking that they could play apocalypse as opposed to trusting science and logic.

Noah and Haley had been watching it happen, sitting side by side in matching dresses they hated, glued to a television that gave updates to their area, their little generator working overtime, cautious of the mandatory lights out that the quarantined areas enforced. They watched the live footage of a mob storming the lab producing the vaccine, they watched as researchers and interns and students ran out of the building as it caught fire.

They watched the last hope of humanity go up in smoke, both of them guilty because they had been vaccinated just weeks before, a bonus for their mother being a good soldier, keeping peace in their little city district.

Considering how everything played out in the end, the only thing you could get out of the twins about their mother that didn’t end in breaking things or panic attacks was the fact that she was a good soldier.

Even then it would set Noah on edge, teetering, and would make Haley clench her fists so hard her tendons become frayed piano strings.

Noah was brought back to reality with a subtle shift, Haley’s knuckles brushing against the hairs on his bicep when she pointed to their destination, likely knowing of Noah’s contemplative mood. Noah was a half step behind her, golf club over one shoulder and the other holding onto the one untorn strap of his backpack. With every step he was reminded of the pistol shoved into the back of his jeans, how it had been without ammunition for weeks.

Haley had a metal baseball bat held loosely in her left hand, adjusting her jean jacket and frowning as another waft of something rancid hit them. They shared a look with the same expression, wrinkled noses and a grimace, then a shared smile at the reminder that they are two sides of one coin, even if it is long out of rotation currency, left in the bottom of a junk drawer with useless keys and forgotten things. 

The glass door into the diner was completely broken, traces of old blood on the shards in front of the door and on what little remained in the frame. Long dead neon signs and ragged flyers caked in dirt both decorate the wide and grimy windows. 

The diner was empty, and Haley promptly flopped down in a booth, sending up a cloud of dust and all kinds of likely hazardous spores. With a cough she turned around, resting on her back and letting her head fall off of the edge. Her hair barely touched the filthy linoleum, and she shifted for a moment before closing her eyes, resting but unable to sleep and render herself vulnerable.

Noah sat on the table of that booth, between his twin and the door, and kept watch.

It only took half an hour until he saw people. A group crossed the empty street, Irisi at the lead and pointing towards Noah, who waved lazily and tapped on the table to get Haley up. With a short, stifled gasp, Haley sat up slowly, eyes narrowed. Noah made eye contact with her so she could gage the situation, and seeing his relaxed posture and only slight nervousness, she relaxed as well, hand reaching for her bat nonetheless. 

The hinges creaked as Irisi pushed open the door, holding it like a gentleman for her group. An older man with a wispy white beard and spotted skin the color of teak wood walked in first, back hunched slightly over his cane. Following him was a pale asian boy with blue hair, a turtleneck, and glasses, who stared at them accusingly and had a hand over a holstered gun at his hip. Then a friendlier face entered, the shorter and older asian man nodding at them, but quickly moving to ensure the oldest man got a stable seat. The last to enter was a very short girl dressed in a leather jacket and a sneer, combat boots crunching savagely against the broken glass on the floor. Her wavy hair was half shaved, the other side just reaching her chin and she watched them with a similar glare to the boy’s. However, she had no gun, just a well used wooden baseball bat and an array of knives in what could’ve once been a bandolier.

The fathers, the girlfriend, and the girlfriend’s brother. Charming. 

“Hi, Noah. Haley.” Irisi said, letting the door swing shut. 

“Hi.” Noah smiled weakly. “Nice to see you without the gang of zombies about to murder us.”

Irisi huffed, smiling. “Yeah.” She hopped to sit on a table across from them, so they could look each other in the eye. The older man, seated in the booth for the table, placed a hand on hers and smiled shakily. “Oh! So this is my dad, Alhazred.”

“Nice to meet you.” Haley muttered, nodding.

Irisi began pointing to the other three, who were seated at the bar by the window, facing the rest of them. She pointed to the short girl with dark skin. “That’s Mari, my girlfriend. She’s best with up close and personal stuff, and first aid on the field. That’s Emrys, her brother and our best with handguns- and generally being a badass.” The boy with blue hair gave a short wave, then turned back to the window to watch the street. “Then that’s Quyen, Emrys and Mari’s dad, and the best with big problems, generally makes sure the rest of us aren’t idiots.” 

“I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.” Mari deadpanned, an obvious lie if her brother’s derisive snort was anything to go by. 

“Yes dear.” Irisi smirked, then turned back to Haley and Noah. “You two seem capable, and you did grab what was probably the last pharmacy supplies in the city, so I’m thinking you guys staying a while is the least we can do if we split the meds.” 

Haley turned slightly, catching Noah’s eye. She was not on board at all. 

Noah raised his eyebrows, making it clear that two backpacks instead of one full of medicine was not worth it. Not when they could potentially have a place to go back to if they needed, and maybe extra necessities if they leave on good terms.

Haley rolled her eyes, and turned back to the ragtag family. “That’s fine. As long as we both look through it and make sure it’s fair. By the end it got chaotic and I sure as hell don’t need like, fifteen boxes of laxatives or whatever when the other bag is full of painkillers.” 

Noah huffed, smiling and amused at her dry tone. If Haley still weren’t shaken by their close call she would probably have argued and made a scene just for the hell of it.

Quyen nodded, a slight smile on his face. “That sounds more than fair.” 

Haley’s shoulders relaxed subtly, the tension in her clenched jaw gone, her hand on the table grabbing at the thick fabric of the hoodie Noah had tied around his waist. A faded pink thing with blood splatters and stains decorating it like a modern painting.

“Yeah. Fair.” Haley said quietly, unable to eye the strange adult with anything but distrust. 

Noah made the big move this time, moving a hand off of his golf club and setting it on Haley’s, gripping it loosely until she twisted her wrist to interlock their fingers comfortably. Undoubtedly, every person in the room noticed, but he didn’t have it in him to care.

This might be the first good group they had found since setting out on their own. They seem kind, reliable. 

A family. A good one. A real one. 

After all Noah and Haley had been through, they deserved that, at least.

“So when do we move in?” Noah asked, smiling. 

[delos-mio]

FHS - A Frank Castle Mini Series - Part 3

A/N: angst! drama! Frank being Frank!

It had been a little over a week since Frank left your apartment in a hurry. Sure, he said he’d call, but he said that an awful lot and rarely did. You were starting to think maybe he wouldn’t ever be back, which scared the shit out of you, if you were being honest with yourself.  Still, you tried to push through the rest of your work day and push Frank out of your mind.

Dinner came in the form of Indian take out that evening. The TV hummed as you let yourself get lost in a book lent to you by a coworker. So far, it had worked in distracting you from your Castle woes. That was until there was a quiet rapping on your front door. You unfolded your legs from under you and slowly padded over to the door. You had begun to wrap your fingers around the baseball bat Frank had insisted you keep at the front door. Once you looked out the peep hole and saw Frank, your grip loosened and you threw the locks open, revealing his face a lot more beat up than usual. He pushed past you and made himself at home.

“Frank…” you whispered, horrified by the bruises left of him. You wanted so badly to reach out and run your fingers over every black and blue splotch, but he was too quick to rush into your bathroom, start running water, and grabbing a fist full of pills from your medicine cabinet. “Frank!” you repeated louder, leaning in the doorway. He only grunted in response, making your blood pressure go through the roof. “Goddamn it, look at me!” you cried out, causing him to shut off the water and slowly turn to you. His eyes were hard when he first looked at you, but softened once he realized you were on the verge of tears.

“I didn’t mean to…” he began before you chimed in.

“Didn’t mean to what, Frank? Storm out of my apartment? Not call me for over a week? Show up with your face looking like a punching bag like nothing happened? Or ice me out in my own goddamn home while you act like you own the place?” you spat. A few stray tears began to roll down your cheeks, which you quickly wiped away, unwilling to show him how upset you really were.

“It was just a bar fight,” he muttered, looking away from you.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing lightly, tears ready to fall again at any moment. “You so don’t get it. You don’t get it at all!” He hung his head, unable to continue to watch you get worked up. Frank took a few steps forward until he was chest to chest with you. He gestured vaguely toward the couch, silently pleading with you to sit with him. Begrudgingly, you turned on your heel and nestled yourself into the corner of your beat-up couch. For what felt like an eternity, the two of you sat in silence. Frank let his hands fold between his legs, his dark hoodie pulling tight over his biceps. As angry as you were with him, you couldn’t help but admire how good he looked slouched over next to you.

“I’m sorry for not calling,” he said earnestly, finally looking at you again. “I wanted to. There were so many times I wanted to.”

“So why didn’t you then?”

“Just got kinda caught up in work,” he said, his voice that low, gravely sound you loved so dearly. You wanted to be mad at him, you really did, but all you could feel was worried. Worried about him, worried about your friendship; it was all infesting your every thought.

“You know, all these months we’ve been friends, and I still have no fucking idea what your job is.” You shook your head and took a deep breath. “What can you possibly do that keeps you out early into the morning, leaves you beat to shit, and unable to even call a person for over a week?”

Frank shifted his weight in his seat, clearly becoming uncomfortable. He ran a large hand up his face and through his thick, cropped hair. Clearly something was heavy on his mind, his eyes darting around the room before landing on yours. “Go get your computer.” Confused, you got up slowly and obeyed his request, grabbing the light notebook from your end table. You powered it up and awaited further instruction. Frank leaned away slightly and took a long breath in.

“You ever looked me up?” he asked.

“No, I don’t make a habit of googling my friends,” you scoffed, chewing on your bottom lip. He nodded his head toward the screen, urging you to type his name into your search engine. You quickly typed in Frank Castle and hit enter, pages and pages of results instantly flooding your screen.

TRIAL OF THE CENTURY: THE PEOPLE VS FRANK CASTLE FRANK CASTLE: HERO OR FROM HELL?

THE PUNISHER IS THE SAVING HELLS KITCHEN NEEDS

THE PUNISHER IS A 21st CENTURY TERRORIST

A CASE FOR COMPASSION: FRANK CASTLE

Each headline was in direct conflict with the one preceding and following it. There had to be hundreds if not thousands of articles and think pieces written about the man sitting next to you. Since you’d been away from New York, you hadn’t kept up much on the local news. From everything you were reading, the city as a whole had a very split perception on just what kind of man Frank Castle was. After the violent murders of his family, Frank had taken vengeance into his own hands. He had murdered hundreds of people in the name of retribution, all of whom were career criminals. No one innocent had suffered at his hands by all accounts that you were reading- that much was clear. The papers had coined the name The Punisher for him. It seemed fitting, you thought, given the nature and severity of his actions. He’d been put on trial, an apparent media circus, and been found guilty by his own admission on the last day of testimony.

And all this was just from the first couple links you clicked.

Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes as you slammed the top of your laptop shut. You couldn’t look at one more page ranting about how Frank was a pestilence and deserved nothing less than capital punishment. If there was one thing you were absolutely sure of, it was that Frank Castle was a good man with a good heart. You turned to look at him, a few stray tears rolling down your cheeks once again.

“The Punisher?” you asked, your voice small and unsure. “Why…why didn’t you tell me?”

Frank shook his head in disbelief before answering you. “How could I? Do you know what it was like to finally meet someone in this goddamn city who said my name without any bullshit or opinion attached to it? When I helped you that night and you said my name in that diner with a fucking smile on your face…I haven’t had that happen to me in years. You don’t get that kind of welcome when you’ve done the things I’ve done.”

“How many other secrets are you keeping from me?”

“My whole life’s plastered on the web. There’s nothing I can hide from you now.” He ran his thumb over the knuckles of the opposite hand, something you noticed he did to soothe himself when he was feeling overwhelmed.

“Do you not trust me? I never would have told or judged you or been…” you began, but he cut you off quickly.

“You’re probably the only person in this fucking city I do trust. And that’s why…it’s why I couldn’t drag you into my bullshit. I can’t keep you safe if you know who I am and what I do,” he stated, his voice rising slightly. He was getting himself worked up, his brow pulled down into a hard line.

“Keep me safe from what? Frank, I don’t care about whatever it is you feel like you need to do. I really, truly don’t. You’re my best friend and I just want to be able to hang out with Max and eat Thai takeout and buy cheap whiskey on the weekends,” you admitted, conveniently leaving out the part about how you wanted him to be yours completely and fully.

“You think I don’t want that too? It’s just not realistic, Y/N. Everyone who knows me wants me dead. And if they know about you, they’ll use you to get to me. I can’t have that,” he growled. He closed his eyes for a moment, considering his next words. “You shouldn’t even want to be around me. I’m a monster, Y/N.”

“You’re not, though. You’re a good man and you have a big heart no matter what the papers say or what you think about yourself!” Your energy was beginning to mirror Frank’s. There was no way you were letting him off easy, not when you knew the truth about who he was, despite all the things he’d done.

“Bullshit!” he spat, his dark eyes wild and wide. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, unable to regulate all the pent-up feelings he was keeping bottled inside. “I don’t know why you bother with me most of the time.”

“Sure you do, Frank,” you laughed lightly, making him stare deep into your eyes.

“I can’t be that for you,” he said quietly. Deep down, you knew when you eventually brought this up that this would be his response. There was no way he’d be able to reciprocate the feelings you had for him and you knew it. So why did it sting so much to finally hear him say it. You tried hard to keep your tears to yourself, biting down on your bottom lip to keep the sob building in your chest from escaping. Frank muttered under his breath and pushed himself off the couch, taking long strides back toward the front door.

“Frank!” you called out, your voice shaking as he pulled open the front door. One foot was already out in the hall when he turned his head over his shoulder to look at you again. “Don’t…”

He shut the door once again, leaving himself inside your studio. He slowly kicked off his black boots and unzipped his sweatshirt, hanging it on the empty hook on the wall. You were surprised to see he had nothing on underneath and instead revealed his impossibly toned chest. Frank took a few steps down the hallway, his head hung low.

“Mind if I shower?” he asked in an even tone.

“Go ahead,” you choked out. What was his endgame? You’d give anything to know what was going on in his head right at this very moment. He stood there for a moment, slowly rubbing his palms over his face, before looking back at you.

“You coming or what?”

[ciathyzareposts]

Missed Classic: Asylum – (Almost) Lost (My Mind)

by Will Moczarski

Med Systems Marathon Overview: (a) 1980 Summary (b) Reality Ends (1980) (c) Rat’s Revenge / Deathmaze 5000 (1980) (d) Labyrinth (1980)

Map of the World

My next session is devoted almost exclusively to mapping. I try the silver key, the brass key and the inmate with all of the doors and get caught several times because only guards are allowed in the offices, I leave too many doors open or I walk into a trap. The offices are not even recognizable – whenever I go to the northeast (I assume) corridor, that’s apparently where they are. I soon figure out that wearing the guard’s uniform lets me walk that corridor unharmed but I don’t find anything new apart from four more doors I cannot seem to open. The inmate can pick one of the locks there but it’s only a trap: “Come in! Lobotomy time!” says a voice from the inside, ending my game once more, telling me: “You are now very calm.”

Am I really? I wish! There’s another obstacle posed by my friend, the lock-picking inmate. Whenever I start feeding him cigarettes at varying rates, he will turn on me and call the guards, that little traitor. After a while I notice that the building is somewhat asymmetrical, consisting of five corridors in the main part and a small loop in the east (I assume). The five corridors link into one another, making it impossible to map the construction by using generic tiles. I painfully redraw the whole map and try to make it fit somehow but maybe it’s just for the best to let the corridors coexist without linking them to some kind of non-functional structure. Or could it be…a pentagram? That seems likely but so far I cannot really get it to work. I’m not the cartographer I thought I was, obviously. At least I find a new room with another inmate. An ugly face appears at the grate and when I let the other inmate (my chain-smoking friend) pick the lock, he tells me that I sure am ugly and offers me his glasses. The glasses, however, turn out to be a novelty nose. I imagine something along the lines of the nose glasses from Zak McKracken and a hundred thousand junk stores.

As I don’t seem to be able to discover anything else, I set out to mapping the maze. This poses a problem as I’ve already hit the inventory limit (although the screen doesn’t look like I should have) and need to decide what I want to take with me. Because I get pushed into the maze with no means to go back, I need to carry everything I might need. I decide to leave everything that I’ve used at least once already – the hand grenade, the newspaper, the coat – but still cannot carry all of the keys. I’ll have to gamble a little more, but maybe I’ll see what I would have needed once I’ll need it.

What I get for being nosey.

Horrible Mazes

And it’s back to mazes. While Deathmaze 5000 and Labyrinth consisted only of those, Asylum has so far provided a more attractive framework. The maze proper is endowed with all of the niceties of its predecessors, as I will soon discover. Mapping this beast is nothing short of frustrating, and it doesn’t take long until I feel that maybe I belong in an asylum after all. The starting section is not too bad. I can map a small area but then I hit an invisible wall in the middle of a corridor. SPLAT! At least it’s not an invisible guillotine this time, and I get a chance to work on this puzzle. As my inventory is rather empty at this point of the game, it’s simply a matter of trial and error. And pretty soon I attempt to wear the novelty nose, as I still remember distinctly how the inmate described it as glasses. Maybe the mix-up is really down to a bug and the glasses will allow me to see something I otherwise wouldn’t be able to see? And that’s exactly what happens. Wearing the nose makes me see a small keyhole of sorts. It appears in the middle of nowhere but I won’t complain. Unfortunately, none of my keys seem to fit. Should I have brought the pin from the grenade? I resort to some more trial and error before restoring again, and I get lucky although I’m none the wiser for it. PUT PEG IN HOLE makes the invisible wall disappear and a box containing a bucket appears in front of me. The game also tells me that the mirror disappeared and that the water can flow freely now. What mirror? What water? Is it inside the bucket? Was it…oh right, the vanishing cream. Despite all these twisty little passages looking alike, I didn’t even think that the invisible wall might in fact be a mirror. Did I shove the peg up my own novelty nose then? If so, why did it accomplish anything? Am I doomed to be an invisible ageless, faceless, gender-neutral, culturally ambiguous adventure person forever?

The next part of the maze is much more challenging. I find a spot that feels like a teleporter but I can’t put my finger on the point where it actually begins to drop me elsewhere. Also, I don’t know anything about the dimensions of this maze – Labyrinth and Deathmaze 5000 were more outspoken about the features of their levels, if I remember correctly. Another obstacle is a revolving door. This one at least notifies me of its presence, and it seems to take me both ways which is a relief. Still it makes me erase and redraw more often than I’d like to. The only item I come across (apart from the bucket) is a bat. I assume that there will be monsters in the asylum, too.

Beyond the revolving door

After some more careful mapping, I come across a note. When I read it, it tells me to LOOK UP! If I try to do that, a piano comes falling out of nowhere and I’m dead. This is one of the many slapstick elements that the previous two games also contained – they appear to be part of the Med Systems corporate identity, or maybe William Denman was just a huge Laurel & Hardy fan in the 80’s. Not too far from the note I find some flies. My hands are full although I don’t seem to have reached the inventory limit yet which is odd. Looking at the inventory screen, I notice that there are three types of items: I carry the BAT in my hands, almost everything else in my pockets, and I can wear the coat and the nose (“being worn”). If I drop the bat, pick up the flies and then pick up the bat again, I can get around this little problem. Maybe it’s even supposed to be realistic: While my hands are full, (carrying the bat) I cannot pick up anything else.

Moving on, I spend some time figuring out how the revolving doors work. It seems that they are actually made up of four tiles and revolve both ways. If I enter from the left, I end up on the other side of them; I can also turn back which is unusually convenient for this game. Entering the doors in the same direction twice gives me access to a new area containing lots of corridors, nooks and crannies as well as a ball. As I already have the bat, this seems consistent. I really hope that there won’t be any Zork references like, say, a baseball maze. The section doesn’t contain anything else but the last part of the maze is packed with action. When I enter the revolving doors from the right I can reach the northeastern quadrant of my map which I was previously unable to enter or explore. Moving east, a “carpenter builds a wall” just behind me. Isn’t it enough to be shoved into the damn maze, game? Do you have to wall me in, too?

As if this wasn’t challenging enough, suddenly I’m being chased by a murderer. I can’t attack him, evade him, talk to him or bribe him. Because this is slapstick country, I find the solution quite easily: showing him the note (just giving it to him is not enough!) prompts him to look up, and he is crushed by a piano. How I manage to jump away without jumping away, I don’t know. At least the murderer is out of my hair. Also, he conveniently drops an axe in front of the newly built wall. Watch out, carpenter: Heeeeere’s Johnny!

A reference to The Shining makes sense in a 1981 game, as the film was released the previous year. However, the parser refuses to be my film buff companion: hitting the wall with the axe does not work, neither does hacking it. I have to BREAK the wall with the axe which seems a little odd but at least I’m not stuck anymore. Searching the section nets me a hat and a steel key. Could this be my ticket to freedom?

Indeed it is. After mapping the final sector (and not finding anything else), I go back to the entrance and unlock the door with my new key. I get back to the asylum proper but there may be some new doors I previously wasn’t able to unlock. As I’ve got way too many items at this point, I once again put the ones I’ve already used into my stash house. Let’s see where the steel key will take me!

We’re stealing the towels!

If all of this seems straightforward, just take a look at my session time after you’ve finished reading this blog post – this game is HARD and I have omitted much of my trial-and-error gaming. Also, my save feature did not work up to this point. Treading through the whole first maze every time I die slowly became unbearable, though, and trying another emulator finally gave me the opportunity to use the game’s original save feature.

The steel key lets me access seven new rooms. In the first one, there is a guru meditating. He uses the mantra “Omm!” which is nice and all but I’m trapped. I try to MEDITATE, SAY OMM(!), use my items, turn around, LEAVE ROOM, you name it. Nothing works, so I have to restore. The next room is empty. The third room has an inmate called Renfrow who mutters that he needs flies. Wow, what an easy puzzle! Giving Renfrow (is this an anagram? CAPs if someone finds out!) the flies works, too, but he just eats them and gives me nothing in return. How do I know that he eats them? Just wait! Instead of dropping an item, Renfrow gives me a hint: “The room next door…” Ahhh, the empty room? I know: something must have materialized over there, right? Is that my reward? I take a heartening (but shortish) stroll there and get pushed from behind (by Renfrow?), then that little traitor calls the guards. “Never trust one who eats flies!”, the game says. Right. As I was curious, I played through the whole scenario again, and figured out that if I lock Renfrow in his room before heading to the empty room, nothing happens. This is a very nice touch but I’m still not getting my flies back. Let’s take a look at those other rooms.

The fourth room has a fisherman called Blake who is wearing boots. That description is somewhat suspicious and I get the sudden urge to steal Blake’s footgear. If I politely ask Blake whether he might give it to me, to my surprise the parser understands me perfectly: “What may I have for them?”, drones the merry fisherman. Impressive! As I have no idea what a fisherman who’s locked up in an asylum might be in dire need of, I decide to brute-force it and simply offer everything I have to the man. And I will be really glad I did that, too. After my encounter with Renfrow (and the game’s snarky comment) I normally wouldn’t have given the flies to anyone else but that is actually the solution. Indoor fly-fishing, I suppose – am I correct, Blake? Whatever the reason, Blake drops his boots immediately, wraps them in a nice box for me to pick up and I can strut around in them for eternity. Well, at least for a few in-game minutes.

The fifth room has water pouring out but the boots provide a firm grip, saving me from being washed away. This was probably supposed to be a puzzle that I solved accidentally. My reasoning was that the inventory limit may be linked to the items’ categories (in hands, in pockets, being worn) and that wearing the boots might save a slot. I restore to see what happens if I enter the room with no boots on, and the water still comes pouring out but now I am being washed away. With the boots, I can safely enter and retrieve an “ancient key”. Could this be for the guru? Maybe it’s not a physical key but some kind of koan?

After leaving the room, I am instantly confronted by three figures – at least, that’s what the parser tells me. I am informed that Exodor, lantern and burro are seeking truth. Good for them, right? They follow me everywhere and at first I think that I can’t interact with them in any way. It seems that this is another set-piece situation and I have to solve this puzzle to progress. I get the first hint by examining the three of them. When I start with Exodor, the parser comes up with its standard “nothing special” reply. Examing the lantern and the burro is more informative, as the game tells me that I am not carrying either one of them. So they are actually items in search of the truth? That’s odd.

It takes quite some time for me to realize that I need to bring out my inner Ultima IV player to get through this one. The solution is to return the stolen boots, at least that’s what I think might be the reason behind this. If I give them to Exodor, he drops the burro and the lantern and vanishes in the air. I always like me a good lantern in an adventure game but what is this burro? I know that it’s the Spanish word for donkey but am I really picking up a donkey? Did I unwittingly stumble into the Bloody Lip on Woodtick? (I know, that was a monkey.)

Not a mirror. Can’t you see the difference?

Two more rooms to go: the first one is pitch dark and I can’t light my lantern. The second one leads to a maze that seems identical to the first one. I start mapping and get stuck in front of the very same mirror, so I restore and bring my novelty nose. That trick does not work here, though, and I lost my peg in the first maze anyway. This is strange – why would they lock the same maze behind two different doors needing two different keys? Or does it turn into another maze after I have solved another puzzle? I decide to tackle the guru first. The game appears to unlock parts of its storyworld everytime I find a new key, so I should probably solve all of the open riddles before moving on. I also try the ancient key on the remaining doors, but that one doesn’t fit anywhere. As it’s so ancient, maybe I’ll need it for the endgame.

The next part takes a LOT of time. I go over all of my notes again and try anything that seems remotely reasonable. After taking a long break, I read it all once more with fresh eyes and one thing that previously eluded me suddenly appears in a different light. Time and again, I kept coming back to the strange phrasing of Exodor, the lantern and the burro all seeking truth. Surely the lantern is an inanimate object but what if the burro really is a donkey? Who could help him to seek the truth? The guru, naturally. Handing the burro over to the guru actually works and the wise man turns out to be a fakir, too, giving me “nails for a bed” in return. Better than the asylum bunks, I suppose. At first I think that I still cannot exit the room but I am just disoriented by the darkness, and after a few turns I can finally leave.

Any more puzzles inside the asylum proper? Renfrow, maybe, but honestly I don’t think so; it may be time to see whether the maze has changed.

At least it wasn’t a banana that made the mighty Donkey Kong fall.

The maze to end all mazes

Spoiler alert: it hasn’t. Hence, I try everything with that stupid second mirror. Wearing the hat doesn’t work. Hitting the MIRROR does not work. Hitting the WALL does not work. Hitting the GLASS does not work, either. I try the same thing with the bat but – you guessed it – does not work. I play guess-the-verb for quite a while, poke the mirror, break the mirror, kick the mirror, you name it. I try to brute-force it by using (almost) every verb from the vocabulary. I also try to hit the ball into the mirror, throw the ball at the mirror, throw the ball at the wall and so on. After a while, my half-hearted attempt to hit the BALL with the bat … succeeds. Just like that. I curse so loud that a neighbour rings me up to ask if I’m okay. Oh brother, I’m not sure – I may be ready for the actual asylum.

Behind the “glass wall” which now shatters (oh, that’s what it was!) there is more mapping goodness. I assume that the second maze is the same size as the first one, meaning 20 by 23 tiles, and plan the map accordingly. I soon stumble across an anomaly that makes me suspect another teleporter. Apart from that, I find some gold, another wall is built behind me, I find some marbles and I encounter a gorilla. Nothing too bad, right? Right. The gorilla is not impressed by my bat and simply ignores me if I hit it with it. The nerve of that primate! However, he does not really attack me either, he just won’t let me through to whatever it is he is guarding. Having finished both Deathmaze 5000 and Labyrinth, I still remember that throwing things at foes is almost always a good strategy, and this one is no exception. After trying some more reasonable items, I finally throw the marbles and the gorilla slips, making himself vulnerable to my cold-blooded attack. Eat my unforgiving bat, you beast! (It actually took me a lot more time to figure out that I could hit him now that he’s not on guard but the story just works better cut short.)

Beyond the gorilla, there’s a copper key, presumably so I can leave the maze. But there are still some sections I haven’t mapped yet. I find two more puzzles, and both are set in very long corridors. One of them is a corridor of 11 squares containing some 20 doors. Upon entering the corridor, another worksome carpenter builds a wall behind me. For now, I am trapped here. If I enter one of the doors, I emerge into a twisty little passage with another door at the end leading back to the corridor. However, the doors don’t match up – this is a mini-maze. I set about mapping the entry points and the exit points but soon get confused as the newly-built walls make the two ends of the corridor look exactly the same.

The Door can see into your mind! The Door can see into your soul!

Adventure game trick #71 helps me out, of course, as dropping an item will provide a visible clue which side of the corridor I’m at. I systematically go through every door and don’t really get a feel for the maze, however that proves to be unnecessary. Behind the final door, there’s a box of matches (literally) and I can light my lantern now. The door at the end of the passage now takes me back into the maze proper but what about my item?! Oh no, I messed up. I’ll have to do it all over again but at least now I know the right door. Right? As I have last saved upon entering the maze, that is kind of a pain. And it turns out that I have to pass through every door instead of just the right one – there is no right one. This time, I duly pick up the dropped item (it’s the gold, in case you were wondering) before entering the last of the 20 doors – it works and I get out of there, matches and gold in hand, er, pockets.

The other puzzle is where I’m currently stuck. There’s another long corridor on the south end of the maze. If I move along that corridor for too long, a roadster races towards me and runs me down. There is nothing I can do. Of course, the obvious solution is to drop the nails and hope that the roadster will drive right into them. However, if I drop them in the middle of the corridor and turn the other way, the roadster simply approaches from the other direction. If I stay at one end of the corridor and drop the nails in front of me, nothing happens – I have to move to get the roadster’s attention. Now where is the gorilla when you need him? At present, I’m out of ideas. I’ll try to solve this puzzle for a couple more hours and if I don’t happen upon the solution, I shall consult the official hint sheet for the game. This is not a request for assistance (yet) but if you want to give me hints in rot13, I shall look at them if it turns out to be necessary. As I already have the ancient key (which doesn’t fit anywhere so far and sounds endgamish but maybe I’m wrong) I feel that the ending may not be too far away. I could be wrong, though, and Asylum could, like Labyrinth and Deathmaze 5000, contain three more mazes.

Evel Knievel got the best of me.

Session time: 8 hours Total time: 10.5 hours

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/missed-classic-asylum-almost-lost-my-mind/