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playboysaleen · 3 months ago

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Kalopisa.

Kalopisa: (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.

Parings: Victoria Neuman x Supe!Reader (GN) (Slight AU)

Chapter One - Chapter Two

Summary: You never had the best life. Being abducted at a young age, being raised in the most wanted mafia as a weapon, hell- becoming the most feared in the gang. But…Truth is, you only wanted freedom. Being able to wake up and not have to wonder if you were going to see the sunset again. What happens when your wish partially comes true and you are offered your freedom but at what cost? Oh, you’ll see.

Warnings: Death, Swearing, and supes dawg.

Word Count: 2.5k (Shits not proof read.)

Slight AU. Slight German and Italian dialect. Reader does have a french accent.

I just had to write about my girl I cant get her out of my head and im swooning over every little thing i see on all my timelines. AND the audacity for her to pop up in my dream just confirmed it for me to write this. my other fic Metanoia just helped me come up with a good plot for this one. I hope you all enjoy and bare with me on this one. RIP my shawty bae.

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“Boss is waiting for you in his office.”

You fluttered your eyes open, adjusting from the bright lamp that lit the small room you laid in. Swinging your feet over the small cot, you leaned over placing your elbows on your knees. What the fuck does he want now? Another family shredded to bits? Another Cocaine bust? Yawning, you rubbed the remaining blood that was stained on your arms- you just wanted to sleep ‘forever’. You stood on your feet sending the buff man a nod walking out your room into the hallway as he followed you.

“Boss is very happy man with what you done last night.” He spoke as the both of you made way through the corridors into the ‘cafeteria’. Sending your hellos with a nod to the men cleaning weapons a man stood up waving the two of you down.

“Danill, did you give boss the news?” Alexi asked. Rolling your eyes, Dani grumbled out something to the man which sent him planting his feet yelling out,

“Das kann doch nicht dein Ernst sein!” (You can’t be serious) Danill placed a hand against your chest stopping your walk to the private hall. He sent you a look which you nodded turning on your heels walking to the man. Everyone went quiet and the only thing that could be heard was the echo of your combat boots against the concrete floor. Sending the man a tight lipped smile, your hand gripped his jaw staring deep into his orbs.

“Why don’t you sit back down and clean those guns you depend on huh?” You whispered looking between both his eyes. You could smell the fear coursing through his veins, his body began to squirm under your stare, he sent you a nod as you let him go.

“Get back to fucking work.” You grumbled out which he cowered away back to his table with the rest of his workers. You started back walking to the door that was guarded by two men, Dani sent them a nod causing them to move out the way. Walking down the long hall, you turned to Dani hearing his heartbeat speed up.

“Something is not right.” He whispered, the door coming in view. Grabbing the door handle, the hairs on your arms rose. Looking back at Dani, heat engulfed you as you were blown back into the wall. You laid under a pile of rubble, alarms blaring all around you- everyone was on their feet. Gunshots were heard and the smell of blood was loud.

“FBSA!” Someone yelled out. Using the strength you have left, you moved the pillar that was laid on top of you, moving it across the hall. Groaning at the pain now subsiding, you limped to the bosses room looking out the window to see nothing but war.

“Alptraum.” You turned to see Danill leaning against the doorframe. He sent you a light nod holding his lower abdomen. Blood swarmed your nostrils when your eyes widen,

“Go, this is your time.” You saw blood spilling from his lips as he spoke. All you could do is nod, his body dropped against the floor when you grabbed the iron bars from the window swiftly yanking it off. Sitting on the windowpane with one foot out, you heard footsteps and comms from Americans. You huffed taking one last look at Danill’s lifeless body dropping out the window onto the moist grass. You sprinted the scene as fast and discreetly as possible.

After running a few miles, your head was filled on what to do- better yet who to call. Placing your hood on top of your head to shield what you could for your identity. A view of a diner was seen a few yards down from your position. Huffing, you adjusted your hood walking down to the front doors, looks were thrown your way with the blood, debris and injuries that were visible. Leaning against the bar, you sent a look towards the man taking orders from the couple just a few chairs down.

“You look like you got in a fight with the Seven.” A young boy joked out in front of you. Eyeing his work attire, you grabbed a fist full of his shirt pulling him centimeters from your face.

“I will send your head directly to the Seven if you press that button.” You whispered, both your eyes and his slowly moved down over the register where his finger hovered over the red button. You stared back when he looked up flashing him a wide smile. The color drained from his face when he saw the large fangs poking out your gums.

“Give me your phone….now.” You gritted out, he nodded, removing his hand from the button grabbing the phone from his pocket, placing the device on the table. You grabbed the device shoving it into your pocket letting go of the boys uniform. You gave him one more smile backing out the diner to the side of the building. You fumbled the phone out of your pocket dialing the only number you could remember. The line rang until you heard the voice you didn't think would bring a small smile out of you.

“de quoi avez-vous besoin?” (What do you need?) He mumbled out. Clanging and banging was heard in the background, this man never catches a break.

“Cela fait longtemps Frenchie.” (It’s been a while Frenchie.) You spoke looking around, a loud bang was heard then silence.

“Cauchemar.”

You chuckled nodding,

“The one and only.” You breathed out, making your way across the street. He laughed softly through the phone when you heard hurried footsteps.

“Where are you kid?” You looked around, giving him the street sign and diner name. An engine roared and tires screeching was heard from the phone, you hummed leaning against the wall feeling the adrenaline fade.

“Please hurry.” You begged when the weight of the phone was too overbearing to hold causing it to drop onto the ground. Your legs bucked as you slid down the wall sitting onto the ground. You could hear Frenchie on the phone asking if you were okay. You hummed letting the black dots swarm your vision.

≈☆≈

“Oui, who the fuck is laying on your therapy couch M.M?” A voice was heard awaking you from your slumber. You lifted your head eyeing the man speaking, Frenchie stood from his stepping in front of the man with his hands up. M.M handed you a water bottle in which you kindly accepted, grabbing the top of the bottle you struggled to open due to the shaking in your hands.

A hand was placed on top of yours when you turned to face a woman sending you a small smile. She carefully took the bottle from your hands, opening it with ease. Damn PTSD.

“You brought a stray from the street so Kimiko can have herself a friend?” the man spoke out pointing your way, you rolled your eyes sending Kimiko a look.

She started moving her hands, tilting your head trying to grasp what was going on. Frenchie appeared behind her, sending her a smile while you heard M.M and the other man walk out.

“Forgive Butcher, he is ah… “ he started but Kimiko (you're assuming) signed and you snorted.

“an asshole?” you whispered. Kimiko nodded happily, patting Frenchies' arms. Frenchie smiled nodding, pointing your way.

“Now you got your rest, what happened?” Frenchie whispered taking a seat next to you. You placed your head in your hands groaning softly.

“FBSA infiltrated the underground.” You answered still in your same position. The underground was your home for as long as you could remember. Everything was ‘perfect’ in your eyes. Well, they clothed you. Put food in your stomach and gave you everything you needed to feel at home but everything comes with a price right? You’ve grown used to walking back to your room (A literal cell but with shit load of space and air conditioning.) soaked in blood. Your thrist was quenched, but more lives were added to your book that you took. The cries still echoed in the back of your mind but after your first real interaction it all became numb. Walking into some italian home during a night of a full thunderstorm after slaughtering and draining the entire malitia that had the entire area guarded. You could remember the cries of a woman who cradled her dead child with the other staring at you with pleading eyes. The man had a gun to the childs head speaking non-sense but everything turned dark when the triggered was pulled and you were too late. You were ordered to kill all but it left a foul taste in your mouth when you turned away from the mans body that the blood began to soak the very exspensive carpet to see the mother staring back at you. She begged you to kill her. You could remember her cries,

“Prendi la mia vita!” (Take my life!)

“Lasciami stare con i miei figli.” (Let me be with my children.)

You lost it that night. You watched the sun peak from the horizon as the storm clouds evaporated from the sky till Danill was at your door again escorting you to the boss for your next body to kill… and drain.

“Merda…well you are safe now.” Frenchie spoke giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. You sent him a nod burying your head into his chest. Frenchie was like a big brother when he was doing his time with the underground. From him teaching you how to disassemble firearms when you were in your early teenage years to watching you shove a partial AK-47 into a mans throat that had the intent on ending Frenchies life.

“I heard all of the things going on,” You spoke standing up walking to his desk grabbing the handgun examining the faded stickers. You chuckled softly waving the firearm his way, he snorted shaking his head, “I hope this still has the powers you used to tell me about.”

Frenchie huffed out a laughter signing something to Kimiko which she smiled softly your way, you sent her a bashful nod. The door opened revealing a very stressed Hugie and-

“Huh, I did not know you worked for the Seven Frenchie, c'est super” (that’s great) you mumbled out sending a glare towards the woman in her normal attire. Hugies eyes widen jogging your way,

“Long time no see huh.” Hugie laughed out bringing you into a hug, you accepted but once you seen the womans stare you slightly released.

“I used to buy some tech from his store.” You mumbled at Frenchies fatherly stare. Hugie used to be the only friend you could talk to outside the underground. Your daily runs to the store for more techware for the guys lead to you leaning against the front desk laughing at his horrible dad jokes. Hugies expression soon changed once he connected the dots,

“You’re a supe…” He whispered. You nodded patting his back, turning to the woman sending her a glare,

“But it is funny how you hated them and here you are banging one.” Frenchie chuckled but quickly wrapped his arms around you when the girl infront of you took a step forward.

“Alright, what’s your fucking problem?” The woman seethed trying to lock her gaze behind a panicking Hugie. You sent her a tight lipped smile,

“Oh, I did not know THE starlight had a mouth on her.” You joked but coughed when Frenchie sent a warning finger into your side. He sent you a look which you stood straight nodding. What? You could go all day getting under this little twinklers skin but Frenchie was family and you did not want to make his friends your enemies. You raised your hands, surrendering.

“Okay, désolé.” (sorry) you mumbled taking a step away from Frenchie sending Annie a nod and an extending hand. “No more. I can not make enemies with Frenchies little family.” You spoke out sincerely to which she shook your hand not without getting in a very tight squeeze.

“So, what brings you here?” Hugie spoke out, you looked over to Frenchie as he answered for you and decided to give your whole life story too. You wandered around the office building sending them a nod or a tight lipped smile every now and then till you heard Frenchie slip up a little more than what needed to be said,

“Enough Frenchie, I think they have all the background they need on me.” You argued, Frenchies mouth shut when Hugie, Annie and Kimikos eyes were on you. You hated the stares but with the new information they knew…who knows.

“You guys got a new plan to take down Homelander is what I am hearing.” A voice was heard from the door when all eyes turned. Your vision blurred and the overbearing feeling of anger bubbled in your chest.

“Neuman. What a surprise.” Frenchie mumbled out dropping onto his chair rolling his eyes. You darted towards the woman bumping Kimikos shoulder in the process of her trying to stop you. Placing a hand around the womans neck you shoved her against the wall, everyone went into panic mode.

“You…killed Malina.” You gritted out pushing your hand deeper into her neck when you noticed her face turning purple. Her eyes turned white but a sinister smiled painted yours when you leaned closer placing your lips near her ear.

“Your little powers do not work on me mon amour,” You whispered, her eyes were now back to normal filled with fear when your eyes ran over her face, “I am a blood drainer, not a blood storer.” You removed your hand from her neck watching her slide down the wall but kept her eyes locked onto yours. Taking a few steps back, you stared at her in disgust when she stood to her feet pointing your way.

“I do not recall such name.” She argued, you rolled your eyes dismissing her ability to rile you up. You shook your head, walking to the couch taking a seat next to a surprised Kimiko.

“I am not going to waste my time with a murderer.” you mumbled out and right on que Butcher and M.M walked in. Everyone was in complete shock at what just happened, Butcher looked around the room looking for some sort of answer.

“Looks like you all got your tongues scraped out, no offense Kimiko.” He sent a smile to the girl who glared his way.

“Vicky just tried to blow Frenchies friends head and well, she can’t.” Hughie spoke, M.M and Butcher turned to you with wide eyes.

“Well, what do we have here.” Butcher sang out making his way towards where you were now seated at the windowpane. You flashed him your fangs which he stopped smiling.

“A bloody vampire.”

“I am called many things.” You started looking out at the window watching the waterdroplets paint the glass. “Cauchemar, Koshmar, Alptraum, der Teufel, other names that make this gift I have a sickness but I will stop at nothing to kill Homelander.” You finished turning your way to the people watching you. Everyone held a different look but you couldn’t stop your eyes locking on to the one person you wanted to drain every last drop of blood stored within them.

Victoria Neuman.

#wlw #fanfiction #book #lgbtq #victoria neuman x reader #victoria neuman #the boyz #hugie #annie january #kimiko miyashiro #frenchie #starlight #william butcher #fuck homelander

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scififettuccine · 5 months ago

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A Wild Fix: Part 2

Pairing: Frenchie x Reader

Summary: The day of the dreaded Supe Convention is finally here. After being paired with Frenchie for your part of the mission, you run into some unexpected conspiracies with some unexpected people.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Homelander, mentions of suicide, mentions of suffocation, Supes being Supes, not proofread (they never are)

Notes: Omg guys look at me being fancy and trendy and cool with the photo header >:)....(Please don't make fun of me I'm a writer not an editor, I tried my best okay?) Anyway here's part 2! Finally posting it after a lot of deliberation, but I hope it was worth the wait! Lots of description in this one, I'm proud of myself 💪 Here's Part 1.5 if you missed it. Big plans for part three, enjoy <3

The day of the Supe convention approached fairly quickly. You would be lying if you said that you hadn't been losing sleep over it. The whole situation was sort of a tightrope walk. If you went to the convention with The Boys, it was bound to end badly. Like you had mentioned to Butcher, it was a suicide mission. But if you told Butcher no, there was a possibility of losing the group as a whole. For better or for worse, they had been the only people in your corner since you joined The Seven…the only thing keeping you stable. As much as you hated that basement…it had become more of a home to you than the tower, even with Frenchie’s irritating presence. You had lost a lot of things in life. A lot of important things. You knew, even if you didn't want to admit it, that you were not stable enough to lose anything else. The outcome of the convention, at least in your mind, would be grim regardless of whether you worried or not. But you couldn't risk losing them, not when they were the only thing close to family that you’d had since…well since you could remember. Calling them family seemed stupid, as you’d only known them for about a month and a half. But truthfully? You didn't know what else to call them. No word seemed good enough.

Butcher had informed Annie of the plan, and the three of you had gotten together to discuss how dangerous the whole ordeal was. Butcher, of course, didn’t care. So, like clockwork, when the day arrived, everyone was informed of the base plan, and ready to go. You and Annie had shuttled into the casino turned convention center with the rest of The Seven, as was planned. The ride was tense and awkward, as it usually was when all of you were together. No one except for you and Annie were really friends, but of course Homelander tried to make it seem like you were. Unfortunately, you got the privilege of sitting across from him on the way there. He tried to create conversation, and you played into it, scared of what would happen if you didn’t. You two hadn’t gotten off to a great start, due to the fact that you had talked back, and he had choked the fear of his every movement into you. And ever since Butcher had info dumped about all the things he had done? You were even more careful around him. The conversation was bland small talk, not exactly focused on anything. You were honestly sort of drifting into space until he mentioned something that caught your attention.

“You’re young, right? You like music?” He asked, his sickeningly white smile on full display. You tried your best not to make a face, unsure of where he was going with it.

“I’m 27… and yeah. Yeah, I like music.” You responded, your fingers moving idly to crack your knuckles one by one. Homelander tilted his head ever so slightly before his gaze shot down to your hands. But as quickly as he had looked, he made eye contact with you once again.

“You know that guy, Mixer? He’s performing at the convention. Feisty little thing, I’ve met him on a few occasions. I remember the day he was signed on to the company.” Homelander paused, chuckling. “He was nothing, then. Fresh out of highschool. The kid could barely look me in the eyes…Now he’s dominating the music industry, with shitty pop but…Still dominating. Funny how those things work out, huh?” He asked. You nodded, glancing over at Annie for support. You didn’t have a clue how any of this was relevant, and you honestly didn’t know how to respond. Annie looked back at you and gave an encouraging smile. What a help she is, you thought.

“I met him at this convention a few years ago, right before he joined Residency.” You informed. Homelander audibly scoffed when you mentioned the team.

“Residency? They’re a PR nightmare in the making. It’s such a strange mix of people, too. I never understood where the inspiration came from.” He chuckled.

“Weren't they kinda supposed to mimic Payback to an extent?” You asked, genuinely curious. He waved a dismissive hand.

“Payback was a PR nightmare too. Come on! I mean, one death and the whole team dispands? Where's the strength in that? This is America! Keep fighting until you can't fight anymore. That’s what I always say.” His disgusting, distorted sense of patriotism always made you nauseous. The man was a blatant white supremacist, and saw the country like it was some holy land. The ideals itself weren't the most sickening part…it was the fact that he wholeheartedly believed them., to the point of influencing others to do the same.

“Yeah…Yeah.” You chuckled awkwardly, putting your hand over your heart, and shaking the other fist in the air. “Land of the free.” With that cringeworthy comment, the conversation sort of died off, ironically just in time for you all to head into the convention center. You and Annie had a few things to handle first, but you had already given The Boys their passes, so they could get an early start.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It was around lunch time when you and Annie met up with the rest of the group. You had decided to grab a bite to eat at one of the restaurants in the casino. Everything was open and being paid for by Vought, which was honestly one of the nicer parts of the convention.

“Oi. Listen up.” Butcher started, cutting through the small talk once he finally finished his food. “I say we split up into groups, yeh? Divide and conquer. There’s an even number of us, which makes it an easy split.” He scanned the group with his eyes. “MM and Annie, you take the arcade floor, all levels.” He pointed to Hughie. “Hughie and meself will take the shopping center…” His eyes fell on you, and he chuckled ever so slightly. You weren't even paying attention, too engrossed in the pasta you were eating. “Oi, marinara face.” He called, trying to get you attention. You instinctively looked up and wiped your face, figuring you were being messy.

“Sorry…” You grumbled.

“You and Frenchie take the theaters. Go sit in on as many presentations as possible, and bring back anything of interest.” You almost groaned when he paired you with Frenchie. There were four other people for fucks sake, and he knew for a fact that you two didn’t get along. You looked over at Frenchie, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly. He didn't look too happy about it, either, rolling his eyes as he pushed his plate away from him. He muttered to himself in French when he stood up. From what you had gathered over hearing it often, it wasn’t the most accurate.

“Right. That settles it. You know your tasks. Meet back here around…” Butcher looks down to his watch. “3:30-4:00 yeh?” Everyone exchanged one last ‘good luck’ before splitting up, leaving you with Frenchie. The two of you stood in awkward silence for a good minute, before you reluctantly broke it.

“Of course he would task us with sitting through the boring stuff.” You joked weakly, hoping he’d laugh. He did, but it wasn’t genuine, strained too. Neither of you really had a reason to be nice to the other, in all honesty. All you ever did was insult each other. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jackets before speaking.

“Oui. Let’s get it over with, then?” He asked, finally meeting your gaze. He was glaring daggers at you. That pissed you off. You were trying to be civil, at least long enough to get through the night. But when he looked at you like that? Like he wasn’t even trying? You glared daggers right back at him. The tension between the two was frustrating, partly because you couldn't figure out what type of tension it was.

“Lets.” You responded, your tone unreadable. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could get away from him.

Upon inspection of the schedule that had been sent to you on your phone, the first event happening in the theater on the first floor was a presentation of Vought’s assets, given by one of the higher ups from the company. Not much info would come from that, you figured, but you wouldn't know unless you sat through it. You turned your head in Frenchie’s direction as the two of you walked out of the restaurant and towards the theater.

“The first presentation starts in forty minutes. It's nothing exciting but it wouldn’t hurt to sit in and listen.” As you waited for Frenchie to respond, you realized your inside hand was a little too close to his. You pulled it away ever so slightly and moved to put your hand in your pocket. Frenchie nodded in response, not seeming too interested. You shouldn’t have let that tick you off…but you did.

“Listen dude. If you’re gonna be an asshole all day you can go do something else. I can handle this myself.” You said, your tone sharper than intended. Frenchie scoffed and rolled his eyes, looking over at you.

“I did not say anything!” Frenchie protested. “Did my nodding offend you that much?”

“It was the inflection.” You huffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“Mmm…Oui. The inflection.” He said mockingly. At that point? It was no use fighting with him, so instead of coming up with a witty retort, you looked around the casino. The line outside the door to the theater was already a bit long, and very colorful. Most Supes wore their uniform suits to the convention, so you could pick out almost everyone, at least those who were signed with Vought. Your eyes fell on a few old friends you had gone through the scouting process with, some people you had met at the last convention, and then an extremely familiar color scheme to a certain Supe’s suit that stuck out like a sore thumb. A bright white ensemble that stood out in a sea of colors…one that belonged to the Supe, Laugh Track, one of the Supes you had mentioned to Butcher.

Laugh Track was another member of Residency, one you were not particularly fond of. You had never personally met the guy, but something about him was just…unsettling. He was rather tall, not as tall as Playback, but almost a head above Mixer. Build wise, he was lanky, at least from what you could see. His Supe suit mainly consisted of a white jacket that resembled those worn in asylums on television, almost a straight jacket, but with control of his arms. There was no visible zipper, and the jacket’s collar went all the way up his neck. His mannerisms were always strange, which was sort of on brand for him. His powers were described as “weaponized hysteria.” It was just a fancy way of saying that his contagious laughter made people go absolutely insane, or at least laugh until they turned blue and suffocated. Laugh Track always stood very stiffly, and usually had a very blank expression on his face, his eyes wide and observant. You’d heard him speak in commercials before, and his voice didn't necessarily ease the feeling of dread you felt when you saw him. He had a strange accent, almost British, but not quite. It was very breathy and weirdly persuasive. He wasn’t unattractive by any means. He had neatly kept bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin…Something was just off.

Laugh Track was standing towards the end of the line, eerily still, his hands, which were covered in little bandages, twitching ever so slightly at his sides. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could only assume that they were darting around the room. You looked over at Frenchie, who was coincidentally already looking in your direction, his mouth slightly open, as if he was about to say something. You shook off the strange feeling that filled your chest and gestured to Laugh Track.

“Do you see the way his hands are twitching?” You asked, purposefully going out of your way to not look directly at Frenchie. Why the hell was he already looking at you? Was he staring or something? Frenchie looked over to the Supe, his eyes narrowing.

“Maybe he has a tremor. Rude to judge him for it, non?” You huffed and looked back to Frenchie, a less than amused expression on your face. You went to go say something else, but your ears perked up when you heard a familiar voice.

“Roman! There you are. I was looking all over for you.” The voice belonged to the man who was arguably the talk of the whole convention, Mixer. Frenchie followed your gaze and looked over at him too. Mixer originally had a Supe suit as well, but ever since he got popular and became more of a poster child than a Supe, he sort of just wore the stylish shit he wore on stage. On that particular day, the outfit consisted of a sleeveless black t-shirt with his logo on it, and ripped black cargo pants with a bunch of adornments hanging off of them. You had to admit, he knew how to dress. The shirt showed off his tattooed arms, and was tight enough that you could see the outline of his chest. After the slight shock of Mixer just appearing in front of you, you added his comment to your mental index. He called Laugh Track “Roman.” That must have been his legal name.

“I haven’t moved since the last time you saw me.” Laugh Track responded, his breathy voice mixed with the accent making you slightly nauseous. Mixer laughed and playfully nudged Laugh Track’s shoulder.

“I figured you would have gone to get a drink or something.” Mixer smirked and nudged his knee with a bottle of Dr Pepper. Laugh Track turned his head towards Mixer, which gave you a moment to catch a glimpse of his smile. It was…unsettling. Disturbing, even, he looked almost manic. But Mixer? He just tilted his head, and smiled sweetly back at him.

“I told you that I wasn’t thirsty.” The taller man let out a chuckle that honestly made you want to walk away. It was so unnerving, yet Mixer didn't seem affected at all. You and Frenchie made eye contact for a moment, before looking back to the two Supes. Frenchie looked just as uncomfortable as you.

“I know you did, but this thing is going to be long. And if we intend to get the info that he wants us to get, you can't be running on nothing.”

You played that sentence back in your head for a moment. The info that he wanted them to get? Who was “He”? And why were other people at this convention also digging for information? Especially people like Mixer. He had it made in the shade, what else would he need to know?

“You are being very loud about this. Hush.” Laugh Track said, taking the bottle of soda from Mixer’s hand. Mixer laughed softly and nodded.

“Right, right. My bad.” Before Laugh Track could respond, the doors to the theater opened, and the line started to move. “Remember, seats closest to the under-stage door on the left side of the theater. He said they should be reserved.” Mixer reminded as the two started walking, their shoulders practically glued together.

“Yes. Under-stage door on the left side of the theater, stage right in perspective of the presenter, reserved seats.” Laugh Track responded. You and Frenchie exchanged a look as the Supe’s in front of you had their lanyard passes scanned, and walked into the theater. As your own passes were scanned, Frenchie leaned over to you.

“Let's follow them and try to sit as close as we can get, oui?” He suggested. You nodded. That actually wasn’t a half bad idea.

“Good idea.” You responded. You could have sworn that you saw Frenchie smirk. The two of you kept a safe distance away from Laugh Track and Mixer as you made your way into the theater, but made sure you didn't lose sight of them. The flow of the crowd pushed you and Frenchie closer together, but in the heat of the task, you didn't really notice.

Maybe this presentation wouldn't be so useless after all.

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Sorta kinda leaving you on a cliff hanger there if ya squint. I really like where this is headed and I'm very excited to start writing part 3. Lemme know what you think! Full disclosure I laughed harder than I should have at the “Land of the free” comment so I hope it made you chuckle. Adieu!

teeny tiny taglist: @llynx7 @stinkysam @xcryptk33p3rx

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