#Blood Blast Distribution

[slrmagazine]

Poolside At The Flamingo Drop New Track "Hell On Earth"

Poolside At The Flamingo Drop New Track "Hell On Earth", Announce Run of Headline Shows This Spring. #poolsideattheflamingo

Announce Run of Headline Shows This Spring Colorado’s obnoxiously heavy grindcore 4-piece, Poolside At The Flamingo have dropped the second single from their upcoming EP, ‘Accabadora‘ out via Blood Blast Distribution on May 22nd. The new track, titled “Hell On Earth“, can be streamed HERE and the visualizer can be found HERE. Speaking on their new release, Poolside At The Flamingo share “This…

[horrorpatch]

CASKET ROBBERY Will Be Livestreaming Their Chicago Show This Sunday!

Madison, Wisconsin-based brutal death metal crew CASKET ROBBERY have announced they will live stream their show from Reggies in Chicago this Sunday, March 26th. The band is touring in support of their current album release, Rituals Of Death via Blood Blast Distribution. Get all the details below. From The Press Release Midwest death machine CASKET ROBBERY is offering fans around the world to…

[gbhbl]

Album Review: Words That Burn - Cut Throat Culture (Blood Blast Distribution/Believe Digital)

One of the hottest bands coming out of the Irish scene right now, Words That Burn are absolutely killing it in recent times and that’s not changing with this new album.

Irish alternative/metalcore band Words That Burn will release their new album ‘Cut Throat Culture’ on the 16th of March 2023 via Blood Blast Distribution/Believe Digital. One of the hottest bands coming out of the Irish scene right now, Words That Burn are absolutely killing it in recent times and that’s not changing with this new album. An absolute beast of an album that sounds and feels like a…

[infraredmag]

MATT MILLER 'Monument of Velocity'

♫ @MattMiller @Shreded1Matt new album 'Monument of Velocity' out NOW via BLOOD BLAST / @nuclearblast Check it out now at: www.InfraredMAG.com #NewMusic #NewMusicFriday #NewMusicAlert #MattMiller #MonumentOfVelocity #BloodBlastDistribution #NuclearBlast

MATT MILLER Monument of Velocity June 17, 2022 Blood Blast Distribution / Nuclear Blast (more…)

[geraskier]

"you got some pretty toes"

"my nail tech knows how to keep a lil secret"

yeah sorry jack harlow you have a thing for feet. "i'm vanilla baby" my ass

[julianbashir]

Any chance of you putting the having a hot girl moment shirt on like Redbubble or something

i'm not actually sure yet, but if people want to re-create it in the interim, they're free to do so! go crazy with fabric markers and make your own unique stick figure hot girl moment violence shirt

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Apple fucked us on right to repair (again)

Today (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tonight, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

Right to repair has no cannier, more dedicated adversary than Apple, a company whose most innovative work is dreaming up new ways to sneakily sabotage electronics repair while claiming to be a caring environmental steward, a lie that covers up the mountains of e-waste that Apple dooms our descendants to wade through.

Why does Apple hate repair so much? It's not that they want to poison our water and bodies with microplastics; it's not that they want to hasten the day our coastal cities drown; it's not that they relish the human misery that accompanies every gram of conflict mineral. They aren't sadists. They're merely sociopathically greedy.

Tim Cook laid it out for his investors: when people can repair their devices, they don't buy new ones. When people don't buy new devices, Apple doesn't sell them new devices. It's that's simple:

https://www.inverse.com/article/52189-tim-cook-says-apple-faces-2-key-problems-in-surprising-shareholder-letter

So Apple does everything it can to monopolize repair. Not just because this lets the company gouge you on routine service, but because it lets them decide when your phone is beyond repair, so they can offer you a trade-in, ensuring both that you buy a new device and that the device you buy is another Apple.

There are so many tactics Apple gets to use to sabotage repair. For example, Apple engraves microscopic Apple logos on the subassemblies in its devices. This allows the company to enlist US Customs to seize and destroy refurbished parts that are harvested from dead phones by workers in the Pacific Rim:

https://repair.eu/news/apple-uses-trademark-law-to-strengthen-its-monopoly-on-repair/

Of course, the easiest way to prevent harvested components from entering the parts stream is to destroy as many old devices as possible. That's why Apple's so-called "recycling" program shreds any devices you turn over to them. When you trade in your old iPhone at an Apple Store, it is converted into immortal e-waste (no other major recycling program does this). The logic is straightforward: no parts, no repairs:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

Shredding parts and cooking up bogus trademark claims is just for starters, though. For Apple, the true anti-repair innovation comes from the most pernicious US tech law: Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA).

DMCA 1201 is an "anti-circumvention" law. It bans the distribution of any tool that bypasses "an effective means of access control." That's all very abstract, but here's what it means: if a manufacturer sticks some Digital Rights Management (DRM) in its device, then anything you want to do that involves removing that DRM is now illegal – even if the thing itself is perfectly legal.

When Congress passed this stupid law in 1998, it had a very limited blast radius. Computers were still pretty expensive and DRM use was limited to a few narrow categories. In 1998, DMCA 1201 was mostly used to prevent you from de-regionalizing your DVD player to watch discs that had been released overseas but not in your own country.

But as we warned back then, computers were only going to get smaller and cheaper, and eventually, it would only cost manufacturers pennies to wrap their products – or even subassemblies in their products – in DRM. Congress was putting a gun on the mantelpiece in Act I, and it was bound to go off in Act III.

Welcome to Act III.

Today, it costs about a quarter to add a system-on-a-chip to even the tiniest parts. These SOCs can run DRM. Here's how that DRM works: when you put a new part in a device, the SOC and the device's main controller communicate with one another. They perform a cryptographic protocol: the part says, "Here's my serial number," and then the main controller prompts the user to enter a manufacturer-supplied secret code, and the master controller sends a signed version of this to the part, and the part and the system then recognize each other.

This process has many names, but because it was first used in the automotive sector, it's widely known as VIN-Locking (VIN stands for "vehicle identification number," the unique number given to every car by its manufacturer). VIN-locking is used by automakers to block independent mechanics from repairing your car; even if they use the manufacturer's own parts, the parts and the engine will refuse to work together until the manufacturer's rep keys in the unlock code:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

VIN locking is everywhere. It's how John Deere stops farmers from fixing their own tractors – something farmers have done literally since tractors were invented:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

It's in ventilators. Like mobile phones, ventilators are a grotesquely monopolized sector, controlled by a single company Medtronic, whose biggest claim to fame is effecting the world's largest tax inversion in order to manufacture the appearance that it is an Irish company and therefore largely untaxable. Medtronic used the resulting windfall to gobble up most of its competitors.

During lockdown, as hospitals scrambled to keep their desperately needed supply of ventilators running, Medtronic's VIN-locking became a lethal impediment. Med-techs who used donor parts from one ventilator to keep another running – say, transplanting a screen – couldn't get the device to recognize the part because all the world's civilian aircraft were grounded, meaning Medtronic's technicians couldn't swan into their hospitals to type in the unlock code and charge them hundreds of dollars.

The saving grace was an anonymous, former Medtronic repair tech, who built pirate boxes to generate unlock codes, using any housing they could lay hands on to use as a case: guitar pedals, clock radios, etc. This tech shipped these gadgets around the world, observing strict anonymity, because Article 6 of the EUCD also bans circumvention:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#medtronic-again

Of course, Apple is a huge fan of VIN-locking. In phones, VIN-locking is usually called "serializing" or "parts-pairing," but it's the same thing: a tiny subassembly gets its own microcontroller whose sole purpose is to prevent independent repair technicians from fixing your gadget. Parts-pairing lets Apple block repairs even when the technician uses new, Apple parts – but it also lets Apple block refurb parts and third party parts.

For many years, Apple was the senior partner and leading voice in blocking state Right to Repair bills, which it killed by the dozen, leading a coalition of monopolists, from Wahl (who boobytrap their hair-clippers with springs that cause their heads irreversibly decompose if you try to sharpen them at home) to John Deere (who reinvented tenant farming by making farmers tenants of their tractors, rather than their land).

But Apple's opposition to repair eventually became a problem for the company. It's bad optics, and both Apple customers and Apple employees are volubly displeased with the company's ecocidal conduct. But of course, Apple's management and shareholders hate repair and want to block it as much as possible.

But Apple knows how to Think Differently. It came up with a way to eat its cake and have it, too. The company embarked on a program of visibly support right to repair, while working behind the scenes to sabotage it.

Last year, Apple announced a repair program. It was hilarious. If you wanted to swap your phone's battery, all you had to do was let Apple put a $1200 hold on your credit card, and then wait while the company shipped you 80 pounds' worth of specialized tools, packed in two special Pelican cases:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

Then, you swapped your battery, but you weren't done! After your battery was installed, you had to conference in an authorized Apple tech who would tell you what code to type into a laptop you tethered to the phone in order to pair it with your phone. Then all you had to do was lug those two 40-pound Pelican cases to a shipping depot and wait for Apple to take the hold off your card (less the $120 in parts and fees).

By contrast, independent repair outfits like iFixit will sell you all the tools you need to do your own battery swap – including the battery! for $32. The whole kit fits in a padded envelope:

https://www.ifixit.com/products/iphone-x-replacement-battery

But while Apple was able to make a showy announcement of its repair program and then hide the malicious compliance inside those giant Pelican cases, sabotaging right to repair legislation is a lot harder.

Not that they didn't try. When New York State passed the first general electronics right-to-repair bill in the country, someone convinced New York Governor Kathy Hochul to neuter it with last-minute modifications:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2022/12/weakened-right-to-repair-bill-is-signed-into-law-by-new-yorks-governor/

But that kind of trick only works once. When California's right to repair bill was introduced, it was clear that it was gonna pass. Rather than get run over by that train, Apple got on board, supporting the legislation, which passed unanimously:

https://www.ifixit.com/News/79902/apples-u-turn-tech-giant-finally-backs-repair-in-california

But Apple got the last laugh. Because while California's bill contains many useful clauses for the independent repair shops that keep your gadgets out of a landfill, it's a state law, and DMCA 1201 is federal. A state law can't simply legalize the conduct federal law prohibits. California's right to repair bill is a banger, but it has a weak spot: parts-pairing, the scourge of repair techs:

https://www.ifixit.com/News/69320/how-parts-pairing-kills-independent-repair

Every generation of Apple devices does more parts-pairing than the previous one, and the current models are so infested with paired parts as to be effectively unrepairable, except by Apple. It's so bad that iFixit has dropped its repairability score for the iPhone 14 from a 7 ("recommend") to a 4 (do not recommend):

https://www.ifixit.com/News/82493/we-are-retroactively-dropping-the-iphones-repairability-score-en

Parts-pairing is bullshit, and Apple are scum for using it, but they're hardly unique. Parts-pairing is at the core of the fuckery of inkjet printer companies, who use it to fence out third-party ink, so they can charge $9,600/gallon for ink that pennies to make:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Parts-pairing is also rampant in powered wheelchairs, a heavily monopolized sector whose predatory conduct is jaw-droppingly depraved:

https://uspirgedfund.org/reports/usp/stranded

But if turning phones into e-waste to eke out another billion-dollar stock buyback is indefensible, stranding people with disabilities for months at a time while they await repairs is so obviously wicked that the conscience recoils. That's why it was so great when Colorado passed the nation's first wheelchair right to repair bill last year:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

California actually just passed two right to repair bills; the other one was SB-271, which mirrors Colorado's HB22-1031:

https://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/billNavClient.xhtml?bill_id=202320240SB271

This is big! It's momentum! It's a start!

But it can't be the end. When Bill Clinton signed DMCA 1201 into law 25 years ago, he loaded a gun and put it on the nation's mantlepiece and now it's Act III and we're all getting sprayed with bullets. Everything from ovens to insulin pumps, thermostats to lightbulbs, has used DMCA 1201 to limit repair, modification and improvement.

Congress needs to rid us of this scourge, to let us bring back all the benefits of interoperability. I explain how this all came to be – and what we should do about it – in my new Verso Books title, The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

Image: Mitch Barrie (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Daytona_Skeleton_AR-15_completed_rifle_%2817551907724%29.jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

--

kambanji (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/kambanji/4135216486/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

--

Rawpixel (modified) https://www.rawpixel.com/image/12438797/png-white-background

[troutberryspoon]

Unhallowed Heart - Chapter 2 'Gifts'

Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

Second chapter - After a fruitless first meeting, Gortash bombards the temple with gifts

Word count - 2483

Full fic here on AO3

___

Two groups of acolytes faced each other in a large, dark side-chamber of the undercity temple. Torch flames flickered on the stone walls. The air was rent by the sounds of laboured breathing. Next to Villi, Brother Owain spat out a mouthful of blood.

The end of the battle was close. Villi was certain that the handful of faithful servants who stood by his side had enough left in them to make this a decisive victory. He narrowed his eyes, fixed his stance, and awaited the signal for the final attack.

FWEEEEP!

Archstrangler McDavis blew a short blast on a whistle made from carved bone. Villi lunged forwards, deftly kicking the ball at his feet right between Sister Emberstar’s legs. Brother Owain sprinted ahead to receive the pass, then tapped the ball forwards, towards a pair of great grinning orc skulls that denoted the other team’s goal.

A loud cry went up as the ball crossed the line. Villi’s team had won, seven goals to two.

Villi went around the chamber and clapped the shoulders of his team, complimenting them on a game well-played. He found Brother Owain on his hands and knees, searching for his missing front tooth in a dusty forgotten corner. It had been knocked out during a particularly spirited tackle.

‘Any luck?’ Villi asked.

‘Unfortunately not, my Lord,’ Owain said, rising quickly. ‘I fear the ancestors have claimed it. Not to worry, I’m sure the infirmary has spares. Perhaps I’ll be able to replace it with a gold crown.’

Villi hummed in what he hoped was an encouraging manner, despite knowing full well that Sceleritas now scoured all the corpses that entered the temple in order to claim every last scrap of gold for their dwindling coffers.

The chatter started to die down as the acolytes filed out. Villi walked over to the ball and rolled it under his boot. With a quick little flick he had it balanced on the top of his foot. He wobbled there for a moment, standing on one leg, countering the ball’s desire to fall back to the floor with small, careful movements. The ball had been fashioned out of a discarded elf’s bladder. Villi had sewn it up himself.

There was an inter-planar ‘pop’, and Sceleritas stood at his side in a haze of sulphur.

The fiend sniffed.

‘I see you’ve been sweating with the acolytes again, mi’lord,’ Sceleritas said.

‘You disapprove.’ Villi didn’t look at his Butler. He was too busy concentrating on keeping the ball balanced.

‘It’s most unbecoming. You shouldn’t make yourself so available to them. They should whisper your name in the corridors, quake at your very presence. Not… play games with you.’

‘You’re just jealous I didn’t ask you to play,’ Villi said. ‘And it’s not a game, it’s Goatball. Wars have been fought over Goatball, you know.’

‘I know,’ Sceleritas said drily. ‘You have mentioned it once or twice.’

Villi finally let the ball roll off his foot. ‘Did you want something?’

‘We have received another gift.’

‘Him again?’ 

By ‘him’, Villi meant Enver Gortash. Somehow the man had discovered the identities of the small number of Zhentarim traders that were allowed to travel in relative safety to the ancient Bhaalist temple under the city, and he had paid them handsomely to transport several large boxes over the course of the last tenday. He must have deep connections.

Sceleritas called them gifts. Villi dismissed them as mere bribes. Bribes he still ordered to be opened and distributed, all the same. He had to be pragmatic in these trying times. One of the boxes contained finely crafted polished daggers, handles wrapped in butter-soft, black calfskin. Another box held a plethora of poisons and paralytics, their delicate glass bottles packed securely in straw. Yet another was filled with bottles upon bottles of topaz-hued white wine. Villi made Sceleritas swallow an entire cup before he tried it for himself, and then found to his annoyance that it was utterly delicious. He had hoped to hate it.

‘I was thinking…’ Sceleritas said.

‘No,’ Villi said.

‘Master, please consider–’

‘I said no.’

‘He is very wealthy,’ Sceleritas said quickly, wincing as if he expected the Son of Bhaal to kick him across the room like an overinflated bladder.

‘So, you disapprove of me getting too familiar with my own Father’s followers, yet expect me to consort with this– this politician?’ Villi spat out the word like it tasted of the bitterest gall.

‘Not consort! Never consort.’ Sceleritas raised his hands, twisting them in the air. ‘You should use him. Extort him. Wring out every last copper. Only let him think that he has your ear. Be clever and cunning. Take everything that he has, then take his wretched life.’

Villi growled, frustrated that he could see the merit in what his Butler suggested. They needed coin. Gortash had it in abundance. Gortash wanted his attention. Villi would have to make sure that it cost him dearly.

There was a rustle of parchment. Sceleritas held out a small bundle of paper. ‘These invitations were included in each box. I didn’t want to vex you any further at the time, so I took them all for safe-keeping. But I think now you might be willing to take a look?’

‘Let me see,’ Villi said, taking them from his Butler. The paper stock was thick, luxurious, smooth to the touch. Obviously expensive. Each invitation was written in a flowing, cursive hand, and addressed Villi directly:

The esteemed presence of Villiame Redvalok is humbly requested

At Baxendall House, Upper City

As the clock strikes the hour of Seven o’Clock in the evening, a private dinner meeting shall commence

An intimate gathering for two where discourse shall flow as freely as the wine, and the repast shall be as rich as the conversation

A seat of honour awaits you

Preparations shall be made to ensure an evening of unparalleled elegance and intellectual delight

Yours, in anticipation,

Sir Enver Gortash

Villi turned several of the invitations over to check both sides. ‘They’re all the same, no dates on any of them. Do you think he sits there every night after sending a delivery, on the off chance that I’ll make an appearance?’ 

It was an amusing image. One Sceleritas quickly dispelled; ‘I doubt it, mi’lord. A man of such means could easily have a fine dinner made and disposed of each night and suffer no hardship.’

‘Yes, yes. He’s very wealthy. You said.’ Villi sighed. ‘Fine, at least I know the wine will be of an acceptable quality. I’d better go wash up.’

‘Before you leave, please tell me that the acolytes at least let you win the game today through fear?’

‘Of course they did,’ Villi replied with a quick grin. ‘They always do.’

___

The hour of their meeting drew close. Villi strode through the Upper City towards Enver Gortash’s estate, looking every inch as if he belonged there amid the pale marble pillars and beautifully manicured gardens of the upscale neighbourhood. Gortash might be expecting to play host to a savage this evening; Villi was going to present to him a gentleman, instead.

Some of the wealthiest people - real blue blood, old money wealth - tended to wear surprisingly shabby clothes. The fabric and construction were of the highest possible quality of course, yet the items themselves were often well-worn and carefully repaired. Villi’s own inherited wardrobe bore the same characteristic faded glamour that marked out the members of some of the oldest families in town.

For tonight’s meeting he had chosen to wear an heirloom cloak over a black velvet doublet with slit sleeves that were laced up at strategic points to show glimpses of deepest burgundy from his shirt underneath. His trousers had been cut in the old Tethyrian fashion, and they clung to the swell of his calves. In his hand he carried an ebony cane topped with a darling little silver skull, its eyes inset with red rubies.

He was greeted at the iron gate of Baxendall House by a pair of well-armoured guards; one human, one teifling. He revealed only that he was an expected guest of the estate’s owner and he was respectfully shown inside. Neither guard made any mention of the dagger on his hip.

The entry hall was grand, spacious, softly lit by the glow from a crystal chandelier. The walls were adorned with gilded frames showcasing oil paintings of imposing castles and numerous portraits of Enver Gortash himself.

In an alcove sat a display case, filled with an assortment of curios and coloured gems. Villi fought to maintain an outward impression of cool disinterest as the goblin-raised impulse to grab all of the shiny things clamoured at the back of his mind. Years of etiquette training and study since taking his rightful place in Bhaal’s temple kept his scarred hands resting on the cane in front of him.

At least Gortash didn’t keep him waiting for long.

‘Ah! You made it. I am delighted to see you here at last,’ Gortash said as he descended the sweeping curve of the stairs. He was dressed less formally than Villi, wearing a black silk shirt laced loosely at the neck. It was new, freshly dyed, darker than a raven’s wing.

‘Few people would be happy to see me in their home. You’re… a rare sort.’ Villi meant it sincerely. Gortash had remained remarkably composed the first time they met even as Villi had sought to gut him like a fish. Villi wondered what his secret could be; a calming potion, an enchantment, a daily meditation practice? Whatever it was, he longed to strip the man of his easy self-confidence and see nothing but naked terror in his eyes.

‘My dear Villiame, I am one-of-a-kind,’ Gortash said, without a shred of modesty. ‘As are you, naturally. Together we could– ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. Please, follow me.’

Villi handed his cloak and his cane to a waiting servant, then did as Gortash bid, following him through the west wing of the house, past yet more paintings, sculptures, and luxurious furniture set on deep carpets. 

A vulgar display of wealth. Villi kept his hands behind his back as he walked. He found some small degree of amusement in maintaining a more relaxed pace than Gortash’s quick, purposeful stride, which meant his host had to keep pausing and waiting for him to catch up.

‘Apologies for my haste in getting to dinner. I got lost in my work today and quite forgot to eat,’ Gortash said after he looked over his shoulder for the third time to find Villi trailing several feet behind him. ‘We’re here now, this room on the right.’

The dining room was compact, intimate. The kind of room where personal meals were taken. There was enough space for a round wooden table that would comfortably seat four, and a small sideboard decorated with vases of glowing white lilies. The table had been laid for two, set with fine ceramics, crystal glassware, and shining silver cutlery.

‘I thought we could speak more freely without being interrupted by the staff, but that means we’ll have to serve ourselves,’ Gortash said, opening a door of the sideboard to reveal a row of bottles. ‘I hope that’s acceptable. Can I pour you a glass of wine? I took delivery of several crates of an excellent red from Calisham yesterday.’

Villi chose one of the chairs and took a seat, then pushed the glass chalice from his place setting towards Gortash to accept the offer of wine. He had already decided that he wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of showing any kind of reluctance to eat or drink anything he was offered. If Gortash wanted to poison him, so be it.

But Gortash made a show of trust anyway. He filled Villi’s glass then took a sip from it himself before handing it back.

Villi eyed the moist patch left on the rim from the other man’s mouth. If he drank from that same spot, tasted his saliva, it would be the closest Villi had ever come - and may ever come - to a kiss. He surreptitiously turned the glass and drank from the opposite side.

‘What do you think?’ Gortash asked, sitting down in the other chair.

‘Smooth. Tastes like sour cherries. It’s good,’ Villi said, downplaying his enjoyment a little. It was excellent. He wanted ten crates.

‘So, what made you change your mind?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘About discussing our partnership.’

‘Who’s to say I have changed my mind? Maybe I was at a loose end this evening and thought that I’d pay you a visit, drink your wine, eat your bread, and then split open your chest and have your heart for dessert,’ Villi said, leaning back. ‘No archers watching you tonight, I take it?’

Gortash smiled, and Villi hated him for it. The man was far too comfortable in his presence. ‘No, not tonight. I am entirely at your mercy. But I rather hope to be worth more to you alive than dead.’

‘My father is the God of Murder; death is my currency. It’s my reason for being. What else could you offer?’

Ding. The muted chime came from inside one of the walls. Gortash bowed his head politely, and rose to open a concealed hatch. Their first course had arrived, delivered via dumb waiter.

‘Gold. Information. Power. That’s what I can offer. And with those three things, you will be unstoppable,’ Gortash said.

‘You assume I’m lacking in those regards?’ Villi scoffed.

‘Villiame, please. Let us talk plainly. I have eyes and ears throughout this city. I know you are.’

‘How dare you–’

Gortash put a dish in front of him. ‘I hope you like pigeon.’

‘First you insult me, then you serve me flying rat?’

‘Give it a try, it’s delicious,’ Gortash said with a wink.

Villi seethed. 

And yet he made no move to attack the other man. He sat there and watched as Gortash retook his seat and sliced into the moist, pink flesh on his plate. 

The first time Villi picked up a sword to train with a real warrior he had been left bloody and bruised. Despite the unholy destiny that was woven into his blood, despite already having three kills under his belt by the age of fourteen, when faced with a master he was left slashing at thin air. Now, many years later in Enver Gortash’s elegant dining room, he felt that same way again. Outclassed. Outmanoeuvred.

He had managed to beat the old warrior by taking a step back, swallowing his pride, and paying attention to what she had to teach him. Then he took her head.

Gritting his teeth, he picked up his fork and speared the pigeon breast, lifting it in one piece. ‘Very well. Let us speak plainly,’ he said, before taking a bite.

[zutraeumen]

Hollowed

This is a part of my one-shot book called: Even the Doll, should it please you... You can find the whole book on these platforms: FanFiction, AO3, Wattpad or Quotev. Bloodborne belongs to its respectful owner.

Hollowed

―︎

"Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's for your own good. You know, it's just what hunters do! You'll get used to it..."

―︎

The following days, the days after Gilbert's death, were enormously difficult. Over the course of your long life, you accepted death as that part of life that was inevitable. Some deaths were easier to deal with, certain others, on the other hand, severely challenged your beliefs at times. But never to such an extent that you wouldn't come to terms with it at the end of the day.

But Gilbert's passing was nothing like the usual, and so your brain couldn't cope with it like it was used to at this point. Yharnam was a place that didn't adhere to the laws of nature, the Great Ones made sure of that. With the defeat of Rom the Vacuous Spider, it was as if a veil had been lifted off your eyes and for the first time, you saw this cursed city for what it truly was: a world without hope.

With the city of Yharnam being ravaged by the plague borne of ancient blood found in the catacombs below the city and distributed by its most powerful institution, the Healing Church, the people cowered in their homes while beasts who were once their neighbours roamed the streets. The Hunters who were in charge of slaying these beasts would inevitably give in to beasthood themselves, to be consumed by bloodlust. All the while great incomprehensible beings surrounded us, but could barely even be bothered to notice we were there, and those who ruled over this city were all either dead, dying, driven completely mad, or had become something else entirely.

An old (sadly deceased) friend of yours would tell you this in that rough voice of his: This place was going to hell! And were you back in your home, far away from Yharnam, you would have shared a good laugh about it but now... now...

It felt useless, YOU felt useless. Ever since waking up in that blasted clinic, you've tried your best to help others survive throughout. You jumped on the wave of Yharnam, acclimatized to its customs in record time while also trying to never stray far from your true self, but to what end?

Where was the end? When would it end? Was there even an end to the Hunt?

How many others would leave you alone in this hellhole?

At this point, it seemed impossible that anyone could be left alive and unaltered. We were all entangled within a web we couldn't even perceive. This place was not just horrible, it was horror, stitched into the very fabric of reality. A reality governed by its own distinctive laws where no matter what you did it would all accomplish nothing.

Despair began to take over your heart, and there was nothing that could help you get rid of it.

It had gotten so bad that even Gehrman forwent disappearing from the Dream for more extended periods of time in hopes his presence would soothe whatever that was bothering you. It was the Doll that came to him for help as she found herself at wit's end for once.

He was there, keeping you company in the back garden amongst white flowers that would never wilt.

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn't even feel the weight of his eyes and it concerned him greatly because he began to recognize himself in you. The way you would become a slave to your thoughts was something the old hunter knew very well. And only he knew the dangers of tumbling down that rabbit hole before it was too late, before you would make a habit of it.

An exchange of words would be the simplest remedy, but the mere thought of speaking to you turned his tongue into a lead and shooed away any sentences he could have conjured. His brows furrowed, and his lips set a downside line expressing his growing disappointment.

How could he struggle to ask you one question? Gehrman didn't remember being that shy around a lady! But you felt like a whole other deal, and after a lifetime of excruciating isolation where he at some point even forgot his OWN NAME, the simplest interactions felt daunting. Maybe furthermore because he didn't want to sound completely moronic. At his age, the hunter shouldn't be tumbling over his words like a newborn fawn like he so feared he would the moment his mouth opened.

With a sigh your keen ears surely picked out, the syllables steadily rolled off his trembling tongue, "What has your mind so unsettled Good Hunter?"

How to better start a conversation than with a question? The years spent in the Dream certainly did nothing to wear down Byrgenwerth off him. Several moments of silence followed. The type of silence that was as if he had disturbed a fragile peace. And now he kicked himself even more because who was he to think YOU would wish to divulge your worries to someone like HIM? Decrepit and crippled, and to top it all off, utterly pathetic. He shouldn't have-

"-I guess everything."

It took him a while to realize you have actually answered his question but he caught on eventually, too late to ask you to elaborate before you dove into a tale he would very much loathe interrupting.

About the distrustful citizens, about fellow Hunters who had lost their way, about the few survivors left in your care, about the slaying of mighty and frightening beasts alike. Even when you mentioned Byrgenwerth, he reigned in his curiosity so you could get it all out.

"... my friend Gilbert, he was also an outsider. He- he was struck by an illness, coughing more and more as time passed. I've brought him as much antidote as I could find, but it didn't help. The last time I came to visit him, he was delirious and couldn't even recognize my voice! So I went into the Forbidden Woods in search of answers. Imagine how much I've found? Nothing but new perversions to haunt my sleep! Yharnam changed upon my hasty return and I worried for my wards. But nothing could have prepared me when I moved to check up on my friend at Central Yharnam. He- he..."

You choked up, sobs wracking through your throat and never had the desire to hold you have been greater in him than now. He didn't go through with his impulsive thought, coward that he was, but relinquished one arm to rest it on your hunched shoulder. You tensed, then relaxed immediately after, welcoming the touch and something in Gerhman's stomach churned. He didn't know what it meant, but found himself wanting more nonetheless.

He gave you the time and space to collect yourself, it sounded hypocritical of himself but it was imperative that your emotions would flow through you freely. They were never meant to be cast aside or repressed, he had paid dearly for that lesson.

"He turned into a beast and I had to put him down! My best friend!"

The dam broke, and you buried your face into the palms of your hands. Gehrman regarded you with a sullen but empathetic gaze, somewhere finding it within his memory to remember what it was like to lose someone dear. He may not be able to put a name to the faces but it was enough. It was always the most compassionate hearts that suffered the most.

Considering your circumstance, words of hope and encouragement evaded him.

Should he offer his sympathy? Should he give you advice? Should he say nothing? Should he... should he... should he...

It was not the first time that he was convinced that a person such as you had no place in the Dream. In Yharnam. Being a Hunter.

Even though he was better off with you by his side. It would be incredibly selfish of him to keep you in an environment where nothing would ever thrive. Of infertile soil where all flowers would wither before they could blossom.

He should motivate you to search for your true purpose for being in this Dream, so he could, as he had done many times before, free you from it. With his Burial Blade.

The mere thought of hurting you brought him unimaginable pain. The mere thought of severing you from the Dream, never to see you again, felt soul-crushing. But he would do it, if only to spare you this.

It was the best he could offer at this moment.

"Oh, dear hunter, didn't I warn you not to think too hard about this? The moon is close. It will be a long hunt tonight. If the beasts loom large, and threaten to crush your spirits, seek the Holy Chalice. As every hunter before you has. A Holy Chalice will reveal the tomb of the god... where hunters partake in communion."

Your inquisitive eyes, so magnificently grey under the right ray of light they could be silver, turned to him, filled with such sadness and despair it pushed a stake through his stale heart. It was difficult to continue when you held him transfixed but he had somehow found his voice.

"Most of the Holy Chalices lie deep within the tomb of the gods. And the few that found their way to the surface... Were lost again in the hands of men. But if the old hunter tales remain true... ...one of the Holy Chalices is worshipped in the valley hamlet. Yet the town is in disarray... It was burned and abandoned, for fear of the scourge, home now only to beasts. The perfect place for a hunter, wouldn't you say?"

He worried immensely when you said nothing, continuing to stare into the grey fog beyond the gravestones where enormous pillars rose from endless nothingness. Time seemed to stretch on, and he resisted the urge to fidget with his cane. It was only until you rose and left for the lamp without a word that his fingers relaxed.

But in the exact moment, with a cry of a wounded animal, he struck the lumen flowers as hard as he could. Again, he had said the wrong thing, and those dearest to him always paid for it. Just as the Moon remained a permanent presence in the Hunter's Dream, he remained a fool.

―︎

You knew that Gehrman didn't imagine this when he gave you the tip.

But it was what you thought he meant.

Death and decay latched onto the very air. The Blood-Starved Beast lay rotting in a corner of the church, all gangly looking with its skin for a cape. Needles prickled your skin just remembering how its long claws tore your limbs apart more than Gascoigne ever could. Had you not discovered the Blood Cocktail's special properties by being thrown into a pillar, it was most likely you would never end up besting it. Throwing a torch at it also helped.

Accelerating, you did your best to sprint through the rest of the way to evade the lurking beasts. Much for their sake as for yours. Their beastly visages reminded you too much of Gilbert, the hurt of his passing prevailed still, yet you were sure that this was the right place to be.

It was the hunter atop the great tower that interested you, for he struck you as an odd fellow, in a good way. He hadn't introduced himself the first time you stumbled past the heavy gates and into Old Yharnam, but with a warning shot that had landed terrifying close to your boot, he made sure you remembered his words acutely:

"You there, Hunter! Didn't you see the warning? Turn back at once, Old Yharnam, burned and abandoned by men, is now home only to beasts. They are of no harm to those above. Turn back, or the hunter will face the hunt."

You narrowly side-stepped being pounced on by a werewolf. What convinced you again that this was a good idea?

Grief... it was grief.

At this point, you had to figure out the way to the top on your own because you never stepped foot near that place. Passing it by in favour of getting to prey that had to be slain. It was impossibly dark within the gothic structures, haunted by the mingling and moaning of a great number of beasts. Your heart beat louder than ever, you feared you would be discovered.

A scraping noise tore a gasp out of your open mouth, drawing in the residual soot, you swallowed down a cough and held your breath while tip-toeing into another room as gracefully as you could. You weren't allowed to fight so you decided to hide, but for fear of your own well-being, you kept your trusty Saw Cleaver at the ready.

After a moment of anxious silence, instead of the frantic patter of monsters, your ears picked up measured footsteps. Human footsteps. Oh shite-

In your haste, you absolutely forgot that the person you sought after wasn't the only one guarding the turned inhabitants of this old district. He had a companion chasing after you when you attempted to traverse through the streets with no direction in mind.

The very same companion whose footsteps now closed in on you, just around the corner. You hoped he would walk past but he was a skilled hunter, unlike you, and like a dog, once he caught a whiff of your scent, it was as good as over.

You closed your eyes once his dark silhouette came into vision, and resigned yourself to your fate. Any sort of aggression on your behalf, even in the act of defence, would undoubtedly put you out of favour of the hunter you sought. So what was left for you to do than offer yourself like a sheep for slaughter?

The only small hope you have left was that he would be merciful and make it swift. Decapitation, preferably. There was a short whirring of parts, a mechanism that would only find a home to ears that heard the sound before.

Clutching your Saw Cleaver in a death grip, the prospect flew right out the window the moment you heard that particular sound because it reminded you of another dreadful thing: there was no sharp edge for a clean cut with a saw, was there?

You began praying, even more when he came so close that you could hear his ragged breath. Stumbling backwards, you suppressed a shudder. You were a Hunter of beasts, not people. And by no means other Hunters. That was probably one of the biggest reasons you greatly respected that old crow.

It left you wondering where she disappeared to when the Blood Moon descended.

You imagined it took a vastly different level of skill to battle other hunters, with infinitely more years on their hands than your measly months. That was one of the reasons you feared antagonizing the woman whenever you talked, choosing to nod along instead of voicing your opinions.

Everything happened so fast and sort of slowly at the same time, how he approached you in quick strides. How his sudden speed scared you to death so much that you tripped in your haste to avoid it. Your surroundings were so dark that you couldn't even tell when you ended up down for the count.

Consciousness returned to you slowly, vision swimming. Groaning from the pain at the back of your head, you rolled to your side, finding the ground pleasantly soft - a cot?

"I am alive?" you said to yourself quietly, unprepared to have survived the chase.

"Be thankful for my companion," a roguish voice told you over the sounds of your elderly moaning, "I would have thrown you to the beasts were it up to me."

He followed up with something, but it was difficult for your old ears to hear. You shuffled a bit from side to side, as if it would shake your delirium. You must have looked like a drunken fool on the ground. Your head certainly felt like it.

"Do you hear me Hunter?! I will not repeat myself, what brings you to Old Yharnam?"

His booming voice rang like a bell inside your pounding head, echoing against the walls of your skull. The pain was grand, grand enough for you to abandon good sense and become angry.

"For God's sake will you tone it down a bit?!" you answered snappishly, fingers pawing at the short ends of your hair. Perhaps he will take offence and put you down for good, he would do you a favour now.

He snorted, but otherwise made no attempt to come forward to your request. Boots clung against the hard stone, away from you, and a held-in breath released itself from your asphyxiating lungs.

You worked yourself onto your feet once your vision cleared, bringing a hand up to help your eyes adjust, was the sky always so bright? A gentle breeze passed over your scalp, your hand followed inquisitively, now, where did you lose your hat?

"Aren't you a strange fellow?" he noted unkindly.

Patting down your clothes, you looked up from under your miraculously intact spectacles to meet his gaze, "[Y/N][L/N], worst Hunter you've ever met, pleased to make your acquaintance."

It at least drew a smirk from him, but not more. Not until you've answered his inquiry.

"Oh, fine!" you groaned dramatically, "I came for you."

He tensed immediately, like a deer in headlights, you should have worded that better.

"No! Not like that. I- ugh -I wanted to meet the man atop the tower. I take it that's you?"

Relaxing somewhat, he tipped his tricorn hat, left eye narrowing onto you suspiciously, "I've no interest in matters further up, neither do the beasts here in Old Yharnam. They do not venture above, and mean no harm to anyone."

"I mean no harm to them or you, I swear on my mother's grave."

"We noticed."

The man turned his back on you, whether it was because he believed you or didn't see you as a serious threat, well, realistically, it could be both. You were positive he could put you down like a pig for slaughter if he wanted, and it seemed he knew it too.

Admittedly, it would bruise your ego if you still were a young lad, but on your ancient bones, you were glad he chose to spare you. You were hoping to get to him, in fact, it was your only goal since you started your excursion. For he may have displayed a certain air of nonchalance, but you just knew he was attentive to your every movement, waiting for you to step out of line.

"Well? What are you waiting for, an open invitation? Come, join me."

You did as he told, stepping up to his rooftop perch. Some part of you thrummed with anxiety, did he spare his blade only to chuck you off the tower? It didn't help at all that the Gatling gun stood there ominously, striking even more fear into your heart without being aimed at you. This deadly machinery was jarring much like your pistol had been at the beginning. Imagine that, a hunter being scared of his own weapons!

As a simple woman of the common folk, coming from a village in the countryside far from any greater cities or fancy castles. Life had been hard, but fulfilling. Living in a house that had supposedly belonged to a witch once. It certainly didn't gain you any favours with the townsfolk, but as long as it promised a roof over your head you saw no harm in it, superstition be damned.

The people didn't like it, but you being the poor church mouse that you had been, could care less about the approval of others. Getting through the day was your main priority, and you never understood why people would look down upon you.

Didn't you have any right to fight for your life, insignificant as it was?

You did, you would, you have...

That was why you stuck around for so long, outliving even those who made life exceptionally difficult for you. You were never welcomed, that had always been an unfortunate reality for you, but you've earned the people's respect enough to be tolerated. Until... well...

"I've never seen anything quite like it."

He turned to you slowly, watching you looking at his massive gun with fearful respect, "Aye, isn't she beautiful? Crafted her myself."

You hummed, in awe of his obvious craftsmanship, but also in partial relief that he had decided to indulge you despite his suspicions, "It reminds me of Gehrman."

The man seemed to spring into life in a matter of seconds, "Blast me! YOU are the Hunter of the Dream?!"

"Ahem," offended, a scowl so foul rested on your face that it made you look like a true hag. It had less effect on him than it used to have on children. Quite possibly because he was also an older gentleman, "I've killed my fair share of beasts, thank you very much!"

He laughed. A positive sign. It eased your fear, but only at the expense of your pride, "Yes, certainly, with the blonde lad in tow for sure?"

...

Fine, maybe you had help most of the time, but that was hardly something anyone could hold against you! Much less this grandpa who had his own little helper down the ladder.

"That still counts!" you remarked, crossing your hands, but it didn't fool him.

Your humility earned you a hearty slap to the back, and while his impertinence to ridicule you aggravated you to no end. Alas, you dared not retaliate for the fear he would take it as an act of aggression. At least the tense atmosphere receded a bit, it was a good thing that you just so happen to have a great sense of humour!

"I no longer dream, but I was once a hunter too."

Your eyebrows rose as your voice took on a lighter tone, "You were?"

The seconds ticked by, his lips formed into a straight line and there appeared to be a swirl of memories behind his one healthy eye, "Forgive me, you don't have to tell me."

Your head tipped and anxiety reared its way back. The man stood like a statue and continued to stare at a point beyond your head. Almost as if your arm had a head of its own, it reached out, against your better judgement, and settled on his shoulder.

Fast as lightning, he trapped your hand with his own. Painfully, at first, until he realized you meant no harm and lessened his grip. Taking the leap, you rubbed it gently in hopes it would ground him to whatever distant place you have sent him to. You really wanted to be thrown off the tower, didn't you?

Fortunately, you seemed to have caught him so exemplary off guard that he did neither. Much to your disbelief, all tension faded from his cautious person so far he even put down his Stake Driver.

"There's nothing more horrible than a hunt. In case you fail to realize, the things you hunt - they're not beasts, they're people. One day you will see."

His manly hand, covered by thick gloves that didn't diminish their roughness, pushed something small into yours. A badge. You looked up at him, dumbfounded. Why would he give you that? Wait, why was he saying his goodbyes?

"Thank you...?" you said slowly, sincerely confused.

"The name's Djura, retired hunter."

The man has a name!

"Thank you, Djura," you tested out his name, "but why are you giving me this?"

"I have no use for it anyway."

You stubbornly wanted to stay, surely he understood that. Dismissive as he tried to be, you wouldn't budge on getting the reason out of him. At this point, for some weird reason, you trusted he had no intention of getting rid of you.

Djura didn't, however, have any further reason to indulge your company as of now.

"What is it? Surely I need not repeat myself. Go I say. You have the whole night to dream, make the best of it."

Taking the loss, you did as he asked, and begrudgingly made your way down the ladder, one foot at a time. You were so wrapped up in your head that you hadn't even noticed that somebody was following you until the person actually made himself known by pulling at your dirty coat. Turning rapidly, your first thought was to lash out in fear of danger, but a strong arm pushed something into your clothed chest.

Getting ahold of yourself, you realized you had been moments away from harming Djura's helper. Your blood pressure skyrocketed after the horrifying thought. After a tense moment and a slow look down, you realised why he had chased after you. He just wanted to give you back your lost Top Hat.

You swallowed thickly, "Thank you."

He nodded, and you expected nothing more than that until...

"You're not so bad."

You must have heard wrong, but by the time you turned around, he was already gone. Like a ghost. You shrugged, it didn't matter anyways, but the same couldn't be said about the pleasant feeling that settled in your stomach. It was curious, the many ways the human mind worked. By the time you were at the nearest lamp, you had not once thought about your friend's death at all.

Perhaps there were still some good things left in Yharnam after all.

[bigdvmnhero]

summary:

Leo keeps a daily log in the apocalypse. If only the past stopped trying to be relived.

notes: rottmnt movie's bad future timeline word count: 2.5k

x

After the end, time splits down the middle: Before and After. This is Before—Day -199 or thereabouts—and they're gathered around the world's last instant ramen bowl in the morning light like it's a fallen comrade.

Mikey shouts, "Someone get water!" and they know he means the good kind, the bottled one, because when the Kraang first made their nest they’d dried up the river. Only the reservoir was left.

Raph starts a fire and puts their last 16.9 oz Aquafina water bottle to a boil. Donnie collects: forest mushrooms, chives, a daikon radish, a migraine, and an egg that Leo puts directly under the sun to scope for rot. It looks like an old one, but Mikey will make it work; he always makes things work. In goes the hot water. The scent of umami blooms around them, warm and giving, and the knot of noodles unfurls into ribbons. Leo wants to be able to transform like that: just add water. Instead, he goes around to distribute breakfast, because he's old enough to know some things are meant to stay wishes.

On Day -200, Donnie floats the idea of time travel. Imagine, Donnie says, burst blood vessels in the white of his left eye. What would you do if you could go back in time?

Mikey perches his chin on Donnie's shoulder and says, Get you to sleep more, Donathan.

Yeah, your growth's kind of seriously stunted, Raph agrees. Cassandra throws her freshly buzzed head back and howls. They share the same rugged grin, and both their left arms are broken in the same two places. Leo shivers in the draft the makeshift tent allows; they're morphing into the same person.

April fixes her own splint. I don't know, maybe tell my manager to suck it?

Ooh, good one, Raph says. Maybe I'll order more of those pizza biancas. Step out of my wheelhouse, you know?

If I were to go back in time, Splinter chimes in quietly, I would remind myself of what is most important.

The room goes mum. Then Donnie groans, begging them all to think bigger, people. Leo wishes his past self hoarded more sodium beef ramen bowls instead of that last sad shrimp bowl, because really? Shrimp? Now there's a tragedy.

It is not the first time Donnie brings up time travel. The first time, in fact, happens on Day -455, and they're shooting threes in the dead of night, human disguises pulled to a T. The Kraang are not yet here. The world is still beautiful, and Leo's brothers are alive. Raph grunts past April's reach for a pull-up step before going in for a sweet, sweet jump shot that has Leo crooning in two languages. By the bleachers, Donnie folds two points together on a napkin to explain the mechanics of tesseract time travel.

I think got it! Mikey lies. Donnie heaves a sigh, and will never know just how much his baby brother will, in fact, get it, years later, unlocking gates like unsnarling shoelaces.

The basketball thunks to the ground and spins wildly out of orbit. Time jerks forward. It is Day -13, a day for intense uphill cardio. Leo knows they only stand a chance against the Kraang together—stacking their mystic signatures around each other like fortified Matryoshka dolls—but then a stupid fight tips the harmony, and their shield breaks. They're fleeing on foot for the rest of the day.

Leo is too busy thinking about countermeasures, ground formations, wondering what Splinter would've done, that he doesn't notice Raph fall back to buy them time. When he turns, the sky blisters red. The blast is so absolute it scorches even sound, and then Leo is stutter-stepping through the divide into the new world.

Welcome to Day 1.

Time resets, and Raph is gone from here on out. They've only just finished preparing his ashes when Donnie brings up time travel again, and Leo slugs him across the face. Donnie's head cracks to the side; his lip is split badly in a way Leo knows will scar. Casey whimpers in his cot. Something in Leo's chest rapidly loses altitude.

He won't forget the look on Mikey's face as Leo shoulders past him, feeling brittle to the core, and all of a sudden he's ten years old again, misunderstood, trudging past the main storm drain to pull a prodigal son. It is Day -4015. Or Day -4016. Leo's not so sure; the fine details blur. Most of his childhood boggles him now, but the cold, dizzying tangle of the sewers beyond home still crawls behind his eyes. He imagines making a life here. He imagines his family, laughing without him, and his riotous heart thuds deafeningly in his chest like a small drum. He marches on.

And then Leo hears it—a voice singing. It wafts towards him, and just like that, he's found. Splinter carries him home all the way, singing a halting lullaby only Leo can hear. Says, sometimes I get lost too. His brothers crowd the entrance to welcome him, but it's Donnie that Leo remembers most: his face wrinkled like a raisin, ruddy with tears as he knocks their foreheads together in an entirely uncharacteristic way before rearing back to swat Leo on the chest.

If you ever do that again—Donnie cries, never finishes his sentence.

Or else what, Leo mumbles back, but now it's Day 4238. Donnie's in the Technodrome. Donnie's in the Technodrome, without Leo's permission. I'll be in and out, Donnie promises through the comms, to a steady backdrop of Mikey cussing him to hell and back and April's threats to mess with all of Donnie's shiny new tech if he doesn't get his shell out of there right fucking now, Donnie, nobody got time for this.

But time is all they have. Five minutes, to be precise. Leo knows what is about to happen in the next few minutes, because Leo was there when Donnie put the plan together. Donnie, always with the questions. What would you do if the Kraang couldn't fry your mystic powers?

I don't know. Leo twirled his sword lazily. Win?

I mean, theoretically—yes. But think smaller.

You always said to think big—

I know, but let's be realistic here. Humor me. If you had an hour—no. Thirty minutes. Ten.

Five, Leo amended, mirroring the reckless look in Donnie's eye. You said be realistic, right? I'll fuck all their shit up. I can do that in five.

Leo imagines Donnie wearing the same crazed, full-toothed grin through the comms, as Donnie announces the bioweapon disabling the Kraang's central unit is on the way. Mid-sprint, Leo looks up. Kraang battleships darken the sky like a fulminating storm.

Then, one by one, they start to fall.

Donnie rasps, you dumdums better make these five minutes count, because if I have to touch any more of this alien goop—and never finishes his sentence. Static detonates through the earpiece and flatlines.

Five minutes, Leo thinks, wild with grief. Mystic energy plinks behind his ears. Then: a waterfall. Donnie did it. Somewhere, Mikey is already baptizing the ground with fundo-fire, eyes wild and unseeing. Leo closes his eyes. Lets his swords lengthen the distance of his loss. How it goes on and on. And then he swings. Hulls split. The Kraang sing as they go down with their ship. Day 4238 kindles until it blackens in its grave.

And then it is Day 4239.

The sun is out. Blue for miles.

On Day 4240, cirrus clouds roll over the canyon.

Day 4241. Mikey disappears. Leo chases him—all the way to Day 4260, when it's clear Leo has lost another brother, too. Mikey's back never turns. Leo stands and hopes anyway. They part ways under a moon so brittle it is a gnawed-off bone.

On Day 4265, the base warms with summer.

On Day 4269, Leo learns the delicate art of becoming a fixture.

Day 4270. April sits beside him. Says nothing.

Day 4281. Leo threads a purple bandana through his sword’s grip tape.

Day 4282. Casey's first word is, to no one's surprise, Weo. Leo throws the kid in the air until he gurgles with laughter, says, there's our little late bloomer. Three years is a long time to go without words. Leo is so sure his heart will give out until Mikey returns on Day 4373 with a new cloak etched with spells.

Mikey pulls off his hood. Spar with me, he says.

This is not his brother, but the flickering shadow a flame throws on the wall, shapeshifting at every turn. Leo is glad to get it all out. He gets to be a monster out here, so Casey doesn't have to see this part of him.

Blow by blow, Mikey meets him. No matter how much the world changes Mikey will always be eight years old around the eyes, but there's a new weight in them today, and Leo hates Draxum for putting it there, hates him so much his teeth gnash and his focus slips.

Wrong move.

Leo’s blade snaps at the combined force of Mikey's chain-knot and twangs into the crags below. Now they're fist-fighting—no weapons, only breath and bone and the mystic blood-flood that gathers in the gut like a dangerous tide. Time wavers; Day -3801’s Splinter shooes his rowdy children off the sparring mat. Aggressive behavior in the dojo will not be tolerated—

Leo snaps to attention as Mikey's knuckles catch the corner of his face. Leo's lip bursts. It’s Day 1 again; time won’t stand still, and Mikey glares at Leo while Donnie's lip free-bleeds. Donnie's mouth is moving through the words time travel, and Raph is gone. Donnie’s cheeks are bright with tears. Leo doesn't remember that part.

Huh.

A silver hair catches the light and snatches Leo back to the present. Leo dreads the worst. Mikey, he tries, but something in Mikey's face closes up, and he kicks Leo with both feet into the sun-razed distance. Leo can't move when he tries to get up; his foot is stuck. And then he sees it: a thousand interlocking chains, mooring his ankle. Mikey's tracing the last of his spiderwork-spell into the air when Leo turns back and can’t help the laugh that brays out of him. Their baby brother, all grown up. Their baby brother, brilliant. Dying. Mikey's grin is a gash.

On Day 4376, Mikey leaves again. Leo lets him. It takes all of his bones and then some.

On Day 4377, Leo tries making miso soup. It's delicious.

Day 4377. Crickets thicken the night. An anthill grows on the side of the base.

Day 4380. Fifteen new recruits—all previously farmers—join the resistance and develop a stutter when Leo walks by. Later, Commander April asks him if he can try not to scare the rookies too much, yeah? Leo practices his smile in the mirror. Casey pulls his cheeks back and says, yeah, just like that!

On Day 4389, Leo wanders the base and accidentally locks himself inside one of the storerooms. This is ridiculous. Donnie left them a lair so smart, but Leo can't even open the emergency hatch. Leo needs Donnie here, so Donnie can explain things to him. He kicks and punches and dents the sliding door. Out of nowhere an AI voice comes chiming in with a, do you need any assistance?—and it’s Donnie’s voice under the tone, unbearably young—and Leo's heart freezes, full stop. He doesn’t remember how he gets out. Maybe he uses a portal. Maybe he talks not-Donnie’s ear off until the lair kicks him out once and for all.

Day 4410. Day 4422. Day 4433. Day 4444. The days keep unraveling, but Leo's heart is a gramophone stuck in a groove. It's an old beat he keeps dancing to, and he has bad knees. Funny, that. Once upon a time, Day -4849, he and Donnie win a dance competition and—scratch. Backtrack. Leo can’t keep doing this. It is Day 4467, he is here and nowhere else. Casey wants to go see the canyons. Sure, they can see the canyons.

They leave before sunset. Casey hangs off Leo's back, his feet in the grooves of his shell and knapsack. Leo wishes he brought something for the kid, like candy—scratch. It's Day -5600. Splinter drops a milk candy into Leo's hand like a pearl, says, for my good son. Leo aches like a cavity.

Casey is quiet. Earlier, the kid was screaming bloody murder, cooped up for too long in the base. Now his tiny body is vibrating like a bottled rocket, incapable of holding more than one emotion at once, and Leo wonders what that's like. Leo is everything at once; both thirteen and thirty-four, here and nowhere. He needs to focus, or they'll slip. It's a long trek. The sun splinters behind wind-battered crags. Tomorrow, Leo thinks he might leave the resistance, tell April he's been thinking of pulling a Mikey and maybe then things will finally be better without him in the picture. Tomorrow. He just has to hang on til tomorrow. Day 4468.

But Day 4467 lingers, refusing to skip to the next beat. An hour passes, and finally the ground levels. Leo finds a spot to rest and lets Casey poke around the ruins. The kid returns sometime later, calling Leo, Leo! and in his hands is an old rotor. Scratch; Day -5495, Donnie shows him a spark plug. His glasses keep sliding down his face, and Leo keeps pretending to be fascinated with all the strange things Donnie keeps bringing—Backtrack. Leo shakes it off. Casey brings him more things: an old stopwatch, a bottle cap, a small plastic dolphin that might've been part of a baby mobile once—and then the kid starts to hum a lullaby.

Leo's stomach drops.

"Where did you learn that?" he says, he's shaking, he's ten years old and lost in the sewers, he's a stupid punk who left home and can't even silence the way his heart ricochets, a desperate chant going find me find me oh please, someone find me

Casey shrugs. “I don't know! Somebody sang it to me, I think!” Scratch. Day -54, Raph rocks a swaddled Casey side to side, humming a strange, lilting tune. He catches Leo's gaze by the doorway and grins as if to say, know this song? Of course Leo knows this song. It's stitched into folds of his own brain. Backtrack. Casey drags him to the edge where the ground plummets into deep cascading valleys, where sunlight pools and stretches. Casey throws his song into the air, and the canyon catches it, throws it back. His voice breaks, and he giggles, embarrassed, tries again. Leo tries again. He was so afraid he'd forgotten, but it's been playing all this time; their voices echoing through that long dark journey, climbing the wind to find them here, the past singing back; time travel.

[goodbysunball]

Cement mixer blues

A couple more for your March, with Opening Day right around the corner. Four picks, all hits, and more waiting in the wings - but until then:

Thomas Bush, The Next 60 Years LP (Jolly Discs)

Album number three from Thomas Bush, one carving his own path through the history of quietly devastating British folk. That Bush has much to do with "folk" in general is debatable at this point, but there are fractured fragments within his damaged, precise compositions. On The Next 60 Years, he refines his vision further, not solely through reduction (though that, too) but with a bit of surprising bombast on the B-side. "Same Life Flowed" opens the album with plodding pop, the double-tracked vocals opening up just enough during the chorus to complement the harpsichord melody, and runs into the pensively dueling guitars on the accurately named "Pure Intention." As is Bush's wont, the album never keeps a straight course after this beautiful opening; some songs, like "Mulligan" or "Flood of Light," creak like floorboards in an empty house, whereas "Face In the Water" jumps out of the speakers from behind the curtain. I've never pieced together any influence of Talk Talk or Mark Hollis on Bush's sound, but now it's crystal on "Burn Clear," the patiently brushed cymbals and pattering drums pairing with slowly ringing chords, all directed by Bush's carefully delivered vocals. The samples on "Burn Clear" get turned inside-out on "Face In the Water," its booming synth chords leaving backwards bubbling loops in their wake, the distortion becoming ever more prominent as Bush's most clear, confident song unravels over its duration. The synth chords turn green midway through, and the garbled loops run rampant to cloud any pop ambitions with more unease. The album closes with the quietly devastating "Xtrails," a repeated descending progression of guitar notes and scattered synth chords, tying the album together neatly with only the necessary ingredients. In early listens, "Burn Clear" and "Face In the Water" were the highlights, but now tracks like "Thirsting" and "Xtrails" have become my favorites, the ones where Bush takes something recognizable and strips it to a skeleton and makes the bones vibrate with noise, creating a new story for the figure largely free from its past. Stunning, especially during my pre-dawn drives, but potent enough, and enveloping enough, to transport the listener from start to finish anytime. Sold out at the source, but I suspect copies will land stateside soon; if not, All Night Flight is handling the distribution - hop to it.

Contaminated, Celebratory Beheading LP (Blood Harvest)

Amidst a glut of ho-hum, self-referencing contemporary death metal, I wasn't really prepared for the complete onslaught that makes up Contaminated's second LP. I liked Final Man a lot, but things seem to have gotten a lot bleaker in the seven years since that came out, and Celebratory Beheading is the record that balls up collective agony into relentless, boneheaded death metal. It takes all of 15 seconds into opener "Suffer Minutiae" for the band to launch into a chugging breakdown riff, and even after multiple spins I feel as if I haven't captured the right words to describe music so single-mindedly brutish. There are no synths, electronics or really anything resembling a breather across the album. This new-look Contaminated feels like layers alternating between Carcass (pre-Heartwork) and Autopsy, with a dash of County Medical Examiners or other goregrind practitioner. Each song is made up of multiple movements, which is the stupid way my brain's been reduced to describing this record when it's on, but the very basic recipe is to pound with death metal crunch and follow it up with a grinding blast, before pulling back and taking another swing at your head. These parts are masterfully fused together without gaps or any recognizable structure, suffocatingly dense compositions coming one after another. Once your ears adjust, the pieces of the bulldozing sound can just barely be picked apart. The drummer's right up front with the vocals, and the two seem to goad each other on; the guitars, drenched in distortion and as beefy as I've heard (sans exterior electronic noise) in ages, churn out mercilessly hard or dizzyingly fast riffs. "Final Hours" is the point in the record where I finally catch my breath, and by "Apex C.H.U.D." (stands for Circular Headbanging Under Duress, pretty sure) you're stomping around like a sumo wrestler. Imagine running in a sewer tunnel away from a tidal wave of waste, each turn bringing no more distance or relief from the chase; at some point your legs and chest give out and you submit. I haven't looked at the included lyric sheet - the album and song titles are illustrative enough - but this seems to be the soundtrack to intentionally hammering a nail through your finger, pure visceral animal thrill, presented without concessions or interludes. My favorite record of the year so far.

Los Doroncos, Sun and Fireworks LP (An'archives)

There's nothing like the first whiff of springtime to bring me around to an album that made little sense during the dregs of the new year, and Los Doroncos' Sun and Fireworks is one for the ages. Seasoned vets with deep ties to the Japanese underground - members from Denudes, Maher Shalal Hash Baz, Doronco Gumo - but what you get here is a dream dive bar band, playing music both intimately familiar and somehow buoyant, not bogged down with expectations or concerned with much else than playin' hits. If the band set out to make classic rock feel fresh again, they nailed it, taking the scoff right outta my throat and using it to hit another solo. The band rips on the two longer tracks, "A minor" (one of the young year's best tracks) and "Drum," but elsewhere things are downright breezy. Guitars are largely unadorned until solos call for distortion, vocals are charming, paper-thin but hopeful, and the drums do enough to keep everything together. For me, any cynicism is eradicated by the beautifully disarming guitar lines littered about in "LuLu 2," but just as often it's the solo pushing its way through the clean chords of "Tin Ear." I'm in the midst of fixing up my porch, and if I get my way, I will be having a few beers back there with Sun and Fireworks elevating my mundane accomplishment. Come through.

Peg, We Know Who You Are and Everyone Is On the Lookout CS (No Rent)

Meeting of the minds between Cube's Adam Keith and Jackie-O Motherfucker's Dave Easlick, both of whom previously teamed up in SPF. I can't remember SPF's music much, though it may be time to revisit given how much I've enjoyed Peg's debut cassette. The music on We Know Who You Are feels like dub recorded without or presented without permission, as if found on a thrift store cassette, and then given added rhythm by Easlick and Keith's drumming and programming. "Mutual Percussion" is a sterling example, drums fading in and out while viscous treated guitar bubbles and the sound of a breeze or footsteps periodically emerge to confusingly give the feel of a field recording. The album feels sometimes ominous, sometimes sarcastic; the intention feels pure but you're never quite convinced with a track like "Agenda Jazz," either. Beyond sifting through the tape for intention, there's deep enjoyment here, skewering and distorting sounds in a way not unlike Equipment Pointed Ankh, though Peg's got a decidedly more abstract, glowering, smirking result. Hard to pick favorites, but if forced: the slouched strut of "Athletic Posturing"; the disarming "Everyone," all glistening synthesizer and distant drums; and my favorite, "Bog Standard," Easlick letting loose on the kit while a bassy loop and high-pitched noise build towers in the shifting sands. Really feels like these two met each other head-on this round, keeping stakes low for themselves but understanding one another intuitively to create one of last year's best albums.

[horrorpatch]

CASKET ROBBERY Drop New Lyric Video For "Return To The Sky"!

CASKET ROBBERY Drop New Lyric Video For “Return To The Sky”!

Wisconsin death bangers CASKET ROBBERY have released a new lyric video for the track, “Return To The Sky!” This is the latest single released from their upcoming new album, Rituals Of Death which is due out on November 11th on Blood Blast Distribution. Check out the lyric video below. From The Press Release Madison (WI) – Midwest death machine CASKET ROBBERY has premiered a new track off their…

[not-freyja]

His paws hit the ground, balanced delicately atop of crumpling mortar and cracked stone. It shifts slightly under his weight, so he lowers, spreading his legs to the sides and evening out his weight distribution. The space around him is dark: a near pitch-black lack of light broken only by a faint orange glow in the distance. Twilight doubts that Hylian eyes would be able to make out nothing but that glow. Lucky for him, he has lupine sight, and a sharp nose. Picking his way out of the dusty post-blast ambience won’t be difficult, not for him. He creeps forward on his belly as the smoke starts to clear, as the dust starts to settle. It’s like the blast just happened, like no time at all did pass. The light back there must be his brothers—Time and Wild, and Wind as well—must be the three of them there, a safe distance back. Unlike he is, unlike he was. Unlike the thing he doesn’t want to think about, the cloying iron reek mixed into the air, the Hylian-blood smell spread out around him, the vague singed aroma of burnt flesh.

Chapter two, let's go! A retelling of a previous event (Adjuration ch 83), but now what's going on actually makes linear sense, so that's fun.

[toxicmetalzine]

Helldrifter

Helldrifter Unleashes New Single "Dark Descent" Via Nuclear Blast's Blood Blast Distribution! Stream the single here: https://toxicmetalzine.com/post/helldrift

[galaxis-asteris]

Asteria's Album Picks for September 2023

Hey! It's mid-September so I thought I'd share some of my favourite albums this month; both new releases and personal favourites as well!

Hope you enjoy! :]

Title: To Let Go

Artist: NateWantsToBattle

Label: Give Heart Records

Genre: Alternative Metal, Metalcore, Rock, Post-Hardcore

Release Date: September 2023

Stream/Download Link

Title: Canon EP

Artist: OVERWERK

Label: Fabrik

Genre: Electro, Complextro, Electro House, Electronic.

Release Date: November 2015

Stream/Download Link

Title: Doubt Me EP

Artist: Beartooth

Genre: Alternative Metal, Metalcore, Rock, Post-Hardcore.

Label: Red Bull Records Inc.

Release Date: August 2023

Stream/Download Link

Pre-Save "The Surface". Releases October 13th

Title: Remember That You Will Die

Artist: Polyphia

Label: Rise Records Inc.

Genre: Math Rock, Instrumental Rock, Progressive Rock, Progressive Metalcore.

Release Date: October 2022

Stream/Download Link

Title: Satellites

Artist: Celldweller

Label: FiXT

Genre: Industrial Metal, Rocktronic, Hardelectro, Drum & Bass, Electronic.

Release Date: October 2022

Stream/Download Link

Also Check Out The Deluxe Edition Here

Title: Wire

Artist: HORSKH

Label: Wire Control / Blood Blast Distribution

Genre: Industrial Metal, Hardelectro, Grunge, Electronic, Future Rock.

Release Date: January 2021

Stream/Download Link

[arrieebooks]

Precious Weapon (6)

Pairing : Lloyd Hansen x F!OC (Elle) x Sierra Six.

Summary : Two weeks into their mission and everything's going peachy for them. But, the CIA wants her to do more now. She spirals, trying to make a decision as she tries to distract herself from reality — old habits die hard.

Warnings : Politics. Explosion. Fire. Mentions of drugs and murder. Anxiety. Hidden stress and depression. Arguing. More arguing with both men. Angst. Heavy smut. Threesome. Anal sex. P in V sex. Really rough smut. Pain kink. Lewd. Violence. Gore. Murder. Implied attempted suicide. Pills. Injuries. Guns. Death. Blood. More gore.

Word count : 14k words.

Author's note : This chapter has been on my mind for weeks. Personally, I loved this chapter and it only took me about a week to write. Let me know if you enjoyed it! My asks and comment sections are always open <;3.

***

Boom

The blast she created explodes the whole of the warehouse as she watches from in front of it. A smirk slowly grows on her lips.

She's busting one of the biggest and worst drug rings in her city that has manufactured and distributed it in other developing countries. 

They have framed innocents, labored children and young women and murdered them once the job is done, stole from the poor, bribed and threatened anyone who saw them, tortured a whole lot of innocents, and forced teenagers to buy their drugs and end up dying of an overdose because of them. They have gotten away with everything until now. 

In the past, she tried to get them after her parents left but she didn't have any resources for that so she failed. She witnessed the damage they did on the people around her and to everyone else in this city. No one did anything about it because they were too scared. So, she wanted to help.

Now, she is helping. The drugs and their money are all burned. The police will be here soon to arrest the people once they wake up from the impact of her knocking them down. They have enough evidence for them to rot in jail for life. The entire police force has been trying to catch them for years. And she did it in a day. 

She could do all this now just because of help from the CIA. She got strong intel from them, extra protection, a getaway car and a safe place to get home. She would've never been able to do this without all that.

She's very damn resourceful now. She's a lot stronger now, too. Because of training and lessons. And she doesn't even need to protect herself because she has two very dangerous men for that. She knew that joining the CIA would eventually have a lot of benefits. And this is it. 

She drifts her eyes away from the burning building, her fingers reaching out to her comms inside her ears. She presses it but she doesn't hear anything. Must've gone off when she exploded the place. Again. 

She sighs, rolling her eyes. They really need to get more advanced comms that could withstand a blast. It's happened four times now. It is starting to get annoying for her.

Out of a sudden, she hears two heavy footsteps approaching from behind and she immediately startles, clenching her fists before turning around and—

Lloyd widens his eyes and raises his hands. "Woah, relax. It's just us. Your comms are off again. We really need to get better ones." he complains while walking towards her with Six by his side.

She relaxes her face and her whole body. It's just them. She's glad it's just them. She really doesn't want to hurt anyone else today. She's very tired. 

They're both so calm and composed. They're clean too, in their usual formal clothes for missions. Meanwhile her clothes are all dirty and a little blood here and there. Her hair's all messy too. She tied into a ponytail earlier but it's slowly getting out of it. She didn't dress up so she only wore some black pair of jeans and a black shirt. She knew it would get all dirty anyway. 

She scoffs, chuckling. "Yeah, you think? Mission's done. I need a bath and a lot of food." Elle demands.

Six smiles at her and this is probably the first time he's ever smiled in a mission. He's always taken all his missions seriously and never once has he ever had the time to even think to smile. Technically, he didn't do anything in this mission but knocked down a few guys at the back entrance and then hid nearby. For him, that isn't really considered a mission for her. She did all the work mostly. 

"Mission accomplished, huh? You wanted this, right? For years. And in just a day, you destroyed everything they have. You ruined them, Elle. You're fucking amazing." Lloyd praises her in a proud tone as he smirks at her. 

He's so proud of her. Never been prouder. He trained her right. She followed every single order from him and the chief. She even talked to all the field agents. She really wanted this mission to work and it did. When she's ambitious about something, she'll always get it. She works hard for anything she wants. 

Her lips stretch into a smile and nod. "Yeah. All thanks to you. And the CIA. The best part is, this is only the beginning. I will destroy every single thing like this that corrupts the city. I'm going to clean it up." she affirms, glaring up at them with an innocent smile like she isn't talking about murder and worse. 

"And we'll be right beside you." Lloyd adds with a sinister smile on his lips. He finally found his match. 

"That's nice. Not to interrupt this rare and seemingly creepy moment…but we gotta go. Like, now. The cops are almost here." Six breaks the news in a hurried tone.

"Why, you got a timer for that or something?" Lloyd asks him, frowning. 

Six nods. "Yeah, I do. I have it right here on my watch. And it says we only have about three minutes." he replies, showing the watch on his wrist to them.

She gulps, looking at both of them with wide eyes. "Okay, let's go." Elle declares, immediately walking away from the crime scene with both men following her.

She's right. It is just the beginning. 

***

The clear water makes tiny bubbles as her whole body slowly sinks inside the bathtub, drowning herself in the freezing cold water.

She holds her breath but doesn't feel suffocated. She feels relaxed. Calm. Better. She feels good. 

These past two weeks, she accomplished a lot of things. She did everything right. She helped the city. This has been her goal since the very beginning she knew about her powers. After seeing the heinous corruption in her own city, she wanted to fix it. Sure, it has never affected her personally. Because she has always been inside a bubble. 

Now, that bubble has popped. And she finally sees reality the way everyone else sees it here. Horrible. Cruel. Terrifying. But it is all real. 

"Elle? Shit. Elle! Please don't be dead. I can't do this shit without you—" Lloyd enters his bathroom and obviously panics when he sees her drowning herself in his bathtub. He immediately rushes to her and kneels down beside the tub. His voice is all muffled to her but she could already tell that it's him. 

She just wanted some peace and quiet. 

Finally, she lifts herself up from the water and breathes again, bracing her arms on both sides of the tub. He looks at her with a concerned and worried face like someone killed his dog. He doesn't even like dogs. She scowled at him for interrupting her relaxing moment. 

"I'm not dead, you idiot. It's physically impossible for me to drown. I'm just relaxing." Elle tells him.

Lloyd frowns and shakes his head. "Don't call me an idiot. You'll regret it. And you can't blame me for worrying. It was a damn sight seeing you drowned like that." His voice almost cracks.

She tilts her head and pouts. "Aw. You were worried for me. I'm glad to know that you care about me enough to not want me dead." Elle calmly says, that innocent smile tugging on her lips as she brushes her hair away from her face.

"I don't want you dead. You should know that by now." Lloyd states in a harsh tone. 

The only time he's completely honest about what he feels is when he's angry or panicking. But seeing her like that really made him…vulnerable. Even if it was just for a second. It really made him realize just how important and valuable she is to him. Not just to the mission. He can't imagine doing all these boring missions without her. She makes it so much better. He has someone to come home to. He would lose his damn mind and sanity if he ever loses her. He still doesn't even get why he cares so much. He's never cared this much. He's always one to not give a shit about anyone or anything. 

She nods. "I do. Just needed a little reminder." she pauses, realizing that if he's here in his bathroom then he was going to do something. "Oh, right. What were you doing here?" 

He exhales, regarding her with a relieved look. "Trying to find you. Figured you didn't go to Six's bathroom." 

"Yours is bigger." she answers, with a smirk. She's not just talking about his bathroom. His eyes look down at her naked body under the clear water. He observes her pretty neck and there's that necklace that he gave her, still attached onto her skin. She's never taken it off at all.

Lloyd lifts his eyebrows and matches her smirk. He knows she's in a mood for that right now. These past few weeks, she has been very active with him after every successful mission she did. It's like her secret kink or something. They've been doing it a lot. Way too much. Almost everywhere in the penthouse. But all of them are quickies. And it's not even the actual sex. They haven't had the time to relax and take their time while doing it. They've been too busy with all these missions. And they're both so focused on it. He's very disciplined when it comes to work. And she's always obeying orders in order for her missions to succeed. They're very serious about it. 

"Tomorrow's the weekend. So, it means we finally get to have time for ourselves right?" Elle asks him in a whining tone, her eyes practically pleading and begging at him. 

He hums in response, nodding. He rests his hands against the sides of the cold marble of the bathtub. Leaning forward onto her and their faces are so close that they could hear each other's breathing. "We have time tonight, too. You know, it's been a while since we're all together. Now, we're just taking turns with you. And it feels weird. I kinda hate it." Lloyd admits truthfully.

Her lips curve into an easy and calm smile before she leans against the tub and relaxes her whole body. "It is weird. I missed that time. Our first time. That was the only time. There wasn't a second time. But, I'm sure we'll have the time tonight."

"How is Six? I mean, in bed. Not how he's doing. I know how he's doing." He ends up rambling. 

She bites her bottom lip and giggles. "You're nervous." she accuses.

He frowns. "No, I'm not. It was just a question." he defends. He is nervous.

She nods, taking a second to think. "Well, he's gentle. You saw it during our first time. He has kinks, too. Just not as much as yours or mine. And…he's slightly bigger than you. He's quiet. Doesn't groan or moan a lot like you." Elle tells him with a teasing tone while she listens in on his heartbeat — it's pounding and throbbing. 

Lloyd tilts his head, growing even more interested in the conversation. She really matches his energy. He likes to tease and she does too. She knows how to fuel him. He hums softly as his hand slips into the water and reaches for her thighs, gripping them tightly. 

She gasps softly and he watches her, amused. "Hm. What else?" He continues to play along with her game as his hand slowly moves up to her inner thigh. "What is his favorite position?" he asks.

He doesn't even know why he's asking specific questions about him. This is not just about her anymore. Maybe—just maybe, he's grown intrigued with the man. They have a deep connection, too. They know each other so well already. They both have never had someone this close before. A friend, a companion. Someone they could trust, to tell everything with and share anything. They're only willing to share her because it's not anyone else. In missions, they secretly trust each other enough to put their lives at risk for the other. They work together so well. 

Elle sighs softly. "We don't go wild. It's more of a comfort thing. To help us sleep better. So like, he puts in and then we go to sleep. Or, we do it slowly and gently and eventually fall asleep. That's why I always sleep with him every night. I find comfort in him." she admits.

No. This was supposed to be a passionate and hot moment. Not some painful realization for him. But somehow, anyhow, he still feels deflated by how she doesn't feel comfortable enough or trust him enough to seek comfort in him. So he's just for the fun and wild and kinky sex. While Six does almost everything with her like what a couple does. He knows they're definitely not a couple. But they're so inseparable and share a connection that no one would be able to understand. They know what each other needs all the time and what they're always feeling or thinking. They often communicate with their eyes and their faces. 

He kinda feels like a third wheel or an extra in their so-called partnership. He doesn't even know why he's fussing so much that he's not included in them. He didn't even want a relationship. He hates it. Having to be with someone for a long time, sharing every single thing with them, sleeping in the same bed with them every night and showering with them everyday. He hated it. Now, he's finding himself caring so fucking much. About them. About how they exclude him a lot and he'd like it better if he could do the things that they do too. But he'd never admit it out loud.

She frowns, tipping her head to the side. "You good? You blanked out for a second there." she asks, grabbing his hand and dragging it onto her clit as she moans softly. "What are you thinking? Some fantasies I'd want to know about? Maybe another kink? We could try something new. You could tie me up. Oh, or we could try it somewhere else new—"

Lloyd cuts her off, removing his hand from her and taking it out of the water. "Fuck, I forgot to tell you. We're going out for dinner after this. Six wanted you to pick a nice place. But preferably not the mall." he seriously says before standing up. By his tone, she could tell that he's not teasing her. He's actually serious. Something must've snapped inside of him, she thinks.

She opens her mouth, blinking confusedly. "W–what? We were in the middle of something, Lloyd. What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you wanted this as much as I do." She snaps.

He rolls his eyes, ignoring her whining. "You don't have to be dramatic about it. We could do it later. It's already 6pm, Elle. It'd be hard to get a table on a Friday night if we don't hurry up." Lloyd coldly says, avoiding eye contact.

She hates being called dramatic. It's called feelings and emotions. It's completely normal to feel that. At least for her. Not him. He doesn't feel all that. He can't. 

She rolls her eyes, getting out of the tub, still bare naked and he doesn't even bother to look down at her like he usually does. He just stares into her eyes and his gaze bores into her. He can't tell her what's actually going on or what he really wants. He doesn't even know if he wants what he thinks he does. Perhaps it's just a momentary desire that's only going to last for today and he'll forget about it tomorrow. 

She shakes her head in disbelief. "See, this is why." 

"Why what?" Lloyd argues, scowling. 

"The reason why I don't depend on you for everything. Why I haven't slept in your bed. Why I don't fully trust you yet. Why haven't we done anything more than stupid silly sex. You're not being serious about this. You think it's just a fun little game. That's why I haven't done all that with you. You know, in case you were wondering." Elle finally snaps, her tone harsh. 

He frowns deeper. It's like she read his mind — she didn't. She's just been burying the truth inside her this whole time. Waiting for him to give her a reason to finally tell him. And he did. But she thinks he doesn't care about all that. He's fine with not doing all that with her. He's just in it for the sex and he doesn't want to do it with anyone else in this damn city.

Lloyd shakes his head, clenching his jaw. "That's not true, no. I—I do want that. Maybe, but—" he stammers. He's having a hard time trying to tell her what he actually wants when he has no clue about it.

She scoffs loudly, already proving her point. "Yeah, see. You're not even sure what you want. I could see it. You don't care that much about me or this or us. Not unless it concerns yourself or the sex." Elle accuses, sharply. 

He exhales. "What's with that anyway? You wanted this shit. You were the one who proposed this to me two weeks ago!" Lloyd yells at her. 

She scowls, scoffing again. "Fuck you, Lloyd. Really. Go fuck yourself. I'm tired of being your little sex doll. I want more, don't you get it? Everything I've fucking been through—it's the only thing I've ever wanted. Not just sex. It's what Six has been able to give me." She clarifies, her voice cracks.

"Well, I didn't sign up for anything more." Lloyd harshly retorts, earning another scoff from her.

She widens her eyes in shock, shaking her head. "Yeah, let's go to fucking dinner. I'm starving." Elle retorts back, grabbing a towel from the rack beside the tub and wrapping it around her. She turns away from him and starts walking towards the exit. 

Lloyd slightly flinches as she slams the bathroom door, hard. It's all his fault and he knows that. He needs to fix this.

***

The car ride has been completely silent. 

She told their driver where they're going, a chill restaurant a little far from here but at least it's not going to be crowded and it's a good place. 

Lloyd focuses on his phone, distracting himself to not mess things up more with her. He already knows he needs to fix it, he's just trying to find the right time and place for that. Definitely not here and not now.

She brought a book with her to keep her mind off of him too. She doesn't want to be the one to fix everything. It's always what she has been to everyone in her life and she's tired of it. She's so sick of it. She wants him to fix it himself so she'll know that he's trying to be better, at least. She knows that he would usually not apologize or even try to fix it. But she's putting her hope in him this time.

Suddenly, Six looks down at the title of the book she's reading and chuckles. "New one? We haven't even finished the last one." he comments casually and that made Lloyd side glance them. 

Before bed, sometimes, they read a book together. They almost share the same interests. She likes to read about moral life values, tragic romance, murder mystery and history. They'd just lay in bed with her head resting on his chest while they took turns reading it out loud, sleepily until they fell asleep. It's not exactly romantic but it's something they've never done before with anyone and it makes it special for them. 

She puts down the book on her lap and darts her eyes at him, smiling lightly. "Yeah, sorry. I just saw this one at the bookstore and had to read it immediately." 

Six nods quietly. "It's okay. We could start reading this one tonight, if you want." he offers.

Her smile widens. "Sure. I'd love that." 

Lloyd turns to them. "Book club, huh? Didn't know you were into all that, Six." he teases him. 

Before Six could even answer, she looked at him with a tired face. "We really love reading. Plus, it comforts me. A lot." she answers, bitterly. It may not sound bitter but he knows exactly what she's talking about. 

No. He can't fight back. He can't retort. He needs to control his rage. Contain it so he could change and be better. Be the bigger person. That's what she wants him to be. Not the old Lloyd who'd just keep on arguing back with her and never stop until she gives up. He wanted to change for long, just never had a big enough reason to. Now he does. It's just up to him how to become better. If he's even capable of it, that is. 

"We should do that too. I mean, all three of us. I like books." Lloyd says, his tone trying to convince himself and them. So far going well. He does like books, he just hasn't had the time to actually read them and enjoy it.

She stares up at him confusedly like he has two heads or something. She leans closer onto him, her fingers touching his hand to make sure this is real and she isn't hallucinating anything. It is real because he touches her hand back before intertwining their fingers together. She knows it's not exactly an apology but at least it's a start. It's progress. He didn't make it worse by arguing back. She was right to put her hope in him. 

Her lips slowly turn into a relieved smile. "Yeah? What books do you like, then?" 

"Anything. I'm good with any." he quickly replies.

She relaxes her face. "Okay. Good. Well, just to be clear, I prefer books written and made by women. I meant that objectively, of course." she cutely argues. 

Lloyd's lips smirks and smiles. "Good. You know what you like, sunshine." 

Elle nods. "Hope you do too. You know, the books. It's important to know what you want to make a decision…to what books you want to read." she softly advises, definitely not hinting about the books.

She isn't talking about the books and he knows that. His smile still lingers on his lips for her. She's the only main reason why he smiles. She doesn't even know that. She has no idea how wrong she was when she told him that he doesn't care that much about her. So wrong. He'd burn this fucking city down if anything were to happen to her while she was trying to save this godforsaken city. 

Six remains clueless. But he doesn't mind, as long as they're not fighting or arguing again. He likes to see them happy. It's so much better this way. They both deserve it.

He rests his hand on her thigh before scooting closer to her and planting a soft kiss on her cheek. "Love this side of both of you." Six whispers really softly but they could both hear it. 

They quietly smile in the darkness of the car while the city lights luminate on them.

***

At the restaurant, it's nearly quiet. It's almost romantic. 

It's outdoorsy. Candlelight. Western food. Wines are served. Everyone who is here are either couples or a nice little family. It's not even loud here or crowded. This is probably the only not shitty and less chaotic restaurant they've ever been to in this city.

The chilly air sinks into their skin and for the first time in weeks, it's finally not humid anymore at night. They're seated at a nice quiet table on the third floor, in the balcony. There's not one single person here. More people downstairs. And Lloyd may or may not have booked this little balcony just for them. He wanted a quiet and calm place to talk to her properly.

She took a seat across from Lloyd with Six is between them. She ordered for them because she knows what they like already and what they prefer more. 

They settle into their seats while watching the view of the city from up here. There's not much traffic here. Not too chaotic too. They haven't heard a single honk from a car or motorcycle or even people. It's an almost quiet part of the city. The rich part, to be more precise. She's never gone here before, only passing by it. She picked this place because she knew how good the reviews were for the restaurant and that Lloyd would probably want to eat at someplace where he could actually spend his money. This is also their first time in two weeks finally dining in a restaurant. 

Lloyd gazes at her openly, silently admiring how beautiful she looks tonight. She's in a white slim crop top that doesn't show her full stomach and a short, pink flowy skirt. She didn't have the time to dry her hair from the bath earlier so it's still wet. Her lips are a little dry. Her face is bare too. She didn't put anything on because she really was in a hurry to not get here too late so they could have a table. 

Sometimes, she's a little carefree when she wants to be. She doesn't care what clothes she's wearing or if she's wearing makeup or not or if her hair is neat and curled. She used to care about those little things. But now, she only cares about what makes her comfortable and feel good. That's more important for her. 

"Hey…we need to talk." Lloyd breaks their peace. But it needs to be done. She knew this moment would come tonight anyway.

She turns her head to him from the view and nods. "Yes. We do." she softly agrees.

Six frowns, looking at both of them. "Why? Did something happen?" he asks them.

Lloyd glances at him. "We had a little fight in my bathroom earlier," he explains to him.

She sighs, leaning forward onto her seat to get closer to him. "Look, Lloyd, it was wrong of me to expect you to offer me comfort. I mean, I haven't even asked you if you wanted it too. In order for something to work better, two parties have to agree on it. I'm sorry…for being stubborn." she apologizes.

"I do want it. But I just don't want to fuck it up." He finally tells her the truth. It felt good, for once in his life. 

She shakes her head, regarding him with a soft look as her hands reach his that is on the table. "You won't. If we do it right. Slowly. Baby steps." Elle suggests and he gives her a short and understanding nod, completely agreeing with her. Something he thought he'd never do.

"I still don't know what's going on here." Six interjects, glancing at both of them confusedly.

She looks at him. "I want to trust him as much as I do to you. I want him to comfort me like you do. Not just some fun here and there. So, we fought and—" she tries to explain.

Lloyd cuts her off. "And now we're solving it. Making progress. This is good." 

She nods at him, her lips slowly forming into a smile for him. "You're making progress too, you know." 

"I know. It's all for you." Lloyd bluntly confesses, the words coming out of his mouth even surprises himself and his tone is so much softer than usual. She is changing him. Slowly. 

He knows he can't exactly completely change. That's impossible. He has been who he is since the beginning of dawn. There is absolutely no miracle that would magically change him into a better man or a better person in general. But he doesn't want to change himself. Not fully, at least. He could still hide the dark parts in him and show the necessary ones only. Almost like what Six has been doing with her. Hiding the real him under all the comfort he's giving her. He doesn't really offer comfort, he just gives her what she needs when she needs it. But in truth, he has no idea what comfort even is. He's starting to learn from her, though.

"We'll take it slow. But…we could start by finally fucking on your bed, for one. And not just on the couch, or my bed or the kitchen counter or against the window or the bathroom—" Elle teases him out loud before he cuts her off.

Lloyd breaks into a laugh. "Okay, okay, I get it! To be fair, those weren't actually the real deal. It was…silly shit that we did. But you didn't fucking deserve that. You're too precious to be fucked against anything that's not a bed." he admits, quietly staring at her.

She giggles softly, leaning her hand on her chin. "Hm. Yeah, sure. Actually, not just us both on the bed. But with you too, Six. I missed us. All three of us." she tells him, her eyes focusing on him only now. 

Six's lips slowly form into a small smile as he gazes at her openly. He nods his head and holds her hand on the table. "Of course. I miss it too." He bluntly confesses and it's so rare for him to do this. He looks over at Lloyd for a split second and he gives Six a relieved look.

"Great! Now that our problem has been solved, I can finally talk about work." Lloyd annoyingly declares. It's not like he wants to talk about work either in this nice and peaceful moment, but he has to. He'll forget to tell them if he waits until they get home or tomorrow morning.

She groans, rolling her eyes as she darts her eyes to him. "Are you kidding me?" 

He nods. "I'll be quick. I promise." 

Six and Elle subtly gesture their head for him to continue on what he was about to say. Probably some announcement that Denny told him to pass it on to them. He's only ever talked to Lloyd or Six. Never to Elle. She just takes the orders. The guys do all the debriefs for her after every mission. She's sort-of relieved because she's a little intimidated by him and still has no idea why.

Lloyd clears his throat and she removes her hand from his. His fingers hold each other together, placing his hands almost professionally. She frowns, trying to figure him out. He's always somehow a mystery for her to crack. There are some things about him that she'll never be able to crack. 

He looks into her eyes seriously. "Alright so, based on all the missions you've successfully done these past few weeks, Denny thinks you're ready for the bigger fish. The high class criminals. The ones that no one suspects. Not even the police. The real roots of corruption in this city. This is what you wanted, right?" Lloyd informs them but mostly to her. This is big news for her, he knew that. 

Her face is puzzled. She's confused, a little relieved, a little happy but also a teensy bit scared and nervous. If she fucks it up, it would be bad for her and them. This is the real deal now. The big mission. The one she's thought about for months and months. 

She blinks curiously at him, leaning closer towards him as her body touches the table. "So…where do we start? Like, corrupt politicians and mayors? Or…the wealthier people who control everything or what? And how do we even catch them? We can't put them in jail because no one knows about their crimes and we can't just send them the evidence—" her voice turns anxious quickly. 

She's spiraling. She does this when she's both confused and scared. He thought that she'd be ecstatic with this news. He was the one who mentioned this first to Denny, to fry the bigger fish and he immediately agreed. He won't tell her that, though. He prefers to do things for her in private and not flaunt about it to her. He doesn't want her praise or approval. He just wants her to be safe and content. Even if she doesn't know anything. 

Six tries to calm her down by stroking her hand. "Elle, it's okay. We can slow down if you want." he suggests. 

Lloyd and him exchange agreeing looks and nods. "Yeah, we don't have to do it right away. It's up to you when you want it."

Elle gulps, shaking her head as she massages her temples. She looks at him in the eyes. "No, no, it's not that. I do want it now. I've been wanting it for a long time. I'm just asking, how are we going to do it?" she asks, glancing at both of them for answers.

He tries his best to say this as slowly as possible. "Well…we don't exactly put them in jail. If you want to get rid of something…what do you do?" Lloyd asks back for her to figure it out herself. He doesn't want to say the word out loud. It'll make it sound like he's the bad guy here. 

She frowns first, thinking about his riddle for a moment before raising her eyebrows in shock and widening her eyes as it finally dawns on her. Kill. You kill them if you want them gone. 

She gasps softly, shaking her head in denial as she leans further from him. "No. I'm not—no. I can't. There has to be some other way, Lloyd. I definitely did not sign up to just go and kill some people. There's too many of them." Elle lowers her voice, even though there's no one else here. Her voice almost cracks. She is terrified but she's trying to hide it from them. 

Lloyd clenches his jaw, leaning towards her. "Bad people, Elle. People who don't even care about other people's lives. Innocent lives. Don't you care about all that?" he asks her back.

She scoffs. "Of course, I do. But I'm—"

He cuts her off. "No, it's fine, we don't have to do it if you don't want it. I'll just tell Denny that we'll stick to low class criminals and drug dealers." Lloyd says to her, not in a sarcastic way. He genuinely means it if she wants it that way. He doesn't want to push her. 

Elle sighs. "No, don't. I do…want to try. But I need a little time. And I need to examine all their files first. If they have family or—" she anxiously says before he cuts her off again. 

She's thinking with her heart again. She can't keep doing that if she wants to actually clean the city like she wanted to. She needs to stop pretending like everything's still normal. It's not. She works for the CIA for a living now. That's nowhere near normal. She doesn't have a normal life anymore. She threw that away three weeks ago when she agreed to be the CIA's weapon. 

He shakes his head. "Don't think about that. They don't think about their family when they're murdering innocents. They'll never stop. Not unless you stop them first. I'm not into all the politics but I know that this is what you meant by cleaning up the city. Get rid of the corruptors, right?" 

She looks at him unsurely before slowly nodding shortly. "Yes…you're right. I just need some time." Elle tells him, softly.

Lloyd nods, understanding. "And we'll give you that. We have all the time in the world." he assures her.

Six glances at her and she quickly turns to him as he gives her a small smile. "We do." he agrees. 

They don't exactly have all the time in the world. They only have a few months and while that's going to be the longest they've stayed in one place before, it's still a short amount of time. Denny didn't specify when he said a few months. It could only be three months or four or five. And after that, they'll go their own ways and never see each other again. 

But they don't want to be reminded of that fact. They just want to keep living in the moment. Even if it won't last long.

***

They've finally arrived back at the penthouse after enduring hours of horrible traffic. 

Once they took their shoes off, Elle had immediately dragged all of them into Lloyd's bedroom and stripped them naked for her. She took control tonight, for the first time ever. And they let her.

She's almost distressed. She needs to make a decision as soon as possible about wanting to start killing the corruptors or not. She knows it's about catching the bigger fish and cleaning up the city. But she didn't think it was going to turn out like this. She thought that she could do it her way. But she was wrong. She doesn't get a say in this. No free will or whatsoever. 

It was all a blur for them. They didn't even have any preparations or foreplay. She just went right in. She needed to forget about it for tonight. She just wants to feel good. 

She's on top of Six already, sunk deep inside his cock while she rides him a little faster than usual. They've never been in this position before. It's always sleepy or shower sex. He's laid down on the bed and leans his head against all the pillows as he holds both of her hands on each side of him.

Lloyd is behind her, buried deep inside her ass as he fists her hair and bites her neck, leaving blood trails all over. He likes marking her even if it won't last more than a few seconds because of how fast she heals. But he knows she likes the temporary feeling of it. The slight pain that turns into pleasure for her. 

He lifts his mouth from her neck down to her ears. "I didn't get to taste you yet, sweetheart." Lloyd grumbles, whispering into her ears as she continues to slowly ride Six's cock.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not in the mood for foreplay, Lloyd." Elle retorts. Even during this moment, she can still talk back.

He brushes her hair aside. "Yeah, none of us really ever know what you're in the mood for. You're so indecisive." Lloyd chose the worst moment to pick a fight with her right now. 

Usually, she'd argue back or forcefully pull his dick out from her but this time, she doesn't. She just sighs softly. "I'm also not in the mood to argue." she tells him, sternly. 

Lloyd tilts his head to the side and smirks at her even though she can't see him. "Hm. New Elle. I like this side of you. It's so fucking hot." He groans, his dick growing harder inside her. He liked it a little too much.

His words made her realize something and she immediately shakes her head. "No. I'm not new. I'll always be me." she clarifies.

Lloyd frowns, noticing the sudden weird tone in her voice. It's like she was trying to convince herself that she won't ever change. He knows she'll change. Maybe once she starts agreeing to kill. He doesn't exactly want her to change, he likes her this way — bubbly, full of light, a little dark side but it's not shown. Yet. He could see it in her eyes every time she's done these missions. She enjoyed burning things down. Destroying everything. Blowing people up. Bad people. She liked doing a little bad to achieve something good. But she won't admit that. 

He gets it now. She's been anxious the whole night so she's using them as a distraction or a coping mechanism. He's not going to say anything back because he's not exactly complaining. He wants her to use them. He's always been the dominant one in bed, the one in charge and the one calling the shots. But for her, he'd be anything she wants. And he definitely won't admit that either. 

Six pulls her down closer to him and cups her face, kissing her sweetly on the lips as she continues to intensify the kiss. She rides him while still deeply making out with him and she pulls away a little from Lloyd's dick because of how close she's getting to the other man. He watches her arch her back and roll her hips, focusing on her movements instead to keep him hard. 

He doesn't want to pull her closer because he can't ruin their cute moment. Even though he feels a little deflated by how she's never giving him her full attention during these kinds of moments when it's all three of them. And again, he feels like the third wheel again. Perhaps, it is true. Six and her were technically together already before he dived in and included himself in their thing — that's just what he thinks. He didn't include himself though. They both wanted him. 

But before his intrusive thoughts could take over him, she breaks the kiss with Six and leans back onto Lloyd's chest again. She fists his hair from behind, hard.

"Fuck me like you hate me, Hansen." she whispers, slowly turning her eyes around to him. 

Their eyes finally meet and the tension is thicker than ever. Their eye contact is always so powerful and intense and full of meaning. He knows what she needs right now. A rough fuck to help her forget everything for the night. He can do that. Six can't. He refuses to ever be any slightly rough with her. That's what separates the two men. The two things that she needs in her life and balance.

"As you wish, sunshine." Lloyd drawls as he begins to thrust his hips against her, sinking his cock deep inside her hole again in a fast and rough pace.

*** 

Six watches Lloyd fuck their girl harshly and aggressively like he hates her. Just what she asked for. But he could still see the intimacy in it. A hint of it. A shade. Nonetheless, still a hint and a shade. 

He always fucks like he hates them. But this is different. He's giving her exactly what she wants. He won't do anything more that she doesn't ask for. She's still calling the shots, technically. 

To his eyes, she's the only thing Lloyd cares about in this world. The world can burn for all he cares. Except for her. The one and only exception. He’d do anything for her from the least worse to the worst of the worse. There is not a single thing that he won’t do for her. 

Six would do the exact same. She doesn’t even know that. At least not the entirety of it. She has no single clue about all the nasty and terrible shit they’d both do just for her or the hell they’d go through for her. It’s already like an instinct for them etched inside of their mind and body. 

He studies and observes every movement from them as her tits jiggle and her necklace dangles because of Lloyd’s cruel thrust against her while he has his hand wrapped around her stomach. They almost fuck in sync, but nothing compares to Six and her. Both men have a different but special connection with her. It’s unexplainable to anyone else but them. They both fuck her according to her needs. If she wants comfort and soft sex, she comes to Six. But if she wants rough and kinky sex, Lloyd is the one she goes to. They always give her whatever she needs and whenever.

“Six. Fuck her. Don’t just lay there and watch. She can take two of us at once.” Lloyd demands, but he also wants to watch her have both of them at once, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the hands of them. He knows exactly what she needs right now. She needs both of them at this moment. Not just one of them like usual.

Six sighs, before looking over at her eyes for approval but she has her eyes shut already, too focused on her own pleasure. Lloyd noticed that, so he tightens his grip on her and pulls her closer to his chest until their skins cling and adhere to each other. His calloused hand goes up to her face and cups her chin, forcefully. 

“Elle, open your eyes. Look at us.” he sternly orders and she slowly opens her eyes, immediately meeting Six’s eyes. He has a relieved look on him and a relaxed one, too. He’s glad that she’s getting what she wants. He’s content for her. 

“Do you want us to fuck you at the same time?” Six softly asks her in a soothing voice.

She frowns at his words, blinking confusedly at him. “But we are already doing that.” She reminds him. 

Lloyd rolls his eyes, his cheek touching hers before he stares into her eyes. “He means actual fuck. Not just this. He's not doing anything. I know you want us both, fucking you, right sunshine?” he asks her, holding her chin rougher as she's forced to meet Six's eyes.

She nods eagerly. “Yeah. Sure. I want it.” she drowsily says.

Six offers her a small smile as his hands squeeze hers as they've been still holding their hands this whole time. It's a sign for comfort. To tell her that she's still cared for even in this vulnerable moment. Though, she already let herself feel vulnerable around them before all this. He just likes reminding her that he's always here for her. 

Lloyd's lips curve into a smirk, releasing his grip on her even though she was really enjoying the pain of it. “Good girl.” he praises her and she moans softly after he harshly pushes her closer to the other man. She bumps into his chest and braces her hands on his muscular shoulders.

Six frowns, abruptly sitting up and holding her head carefully. "Be careful, Lloyd. You don't have to be rough with her every time." he scolds him in a stern tone as his frown turns into a scowl almost immediately. 

He tilts his head to the side and frowns. "But she likes it. Fuck, she loves it." Lloyd taunts and teases her at the same time.

Elle lifts her head and looks up at Six with those desperate eyes that he knows so well already. She needs this really badly. "It's okay, I can't feel pain, remember?" she murmurs softly. 

His face softens when he finally looks down at her. He doesn't say anything, he just gently strokes her cheek with his hand. She leans into his touch as usual before lunging forward and crashing her lips into his in a hurried pace. He presses deeper into her lips, changing her pace into a slower one. He likes kissing her slowly. He can enjoy her lips and her taste better. 

Lloyd sighs impatiently while he has to watch both of them make out first. They kiss way too much. Lloyd and her don't even kiss a lot. Most of the time, they only kiss to shut each other up or to muffle their moans. Not in an affectionate way or an intimate way. In truth, he's never kissed any other woman he's slept with before. He didn't like it. He hated it. Kissing was way too clingy and touchy for him. But with her, it's just…different. He can't even explain it. 

"Ride me." Six whispers against her lips but it's so quiet and is quickly met with her soft giggling that even Lloyd can't discern what he's saying. He only hears something muffled. 

Her lips stretch into a smile against his and she cups his head, leaning her forehead into his. She doesn't even say anything. She's actually speechless.

It's so fucking rare for him to say that to her. He doesn't even do the whole dirty talk thing in bed. With her or anyone else before. He just fucks. Not much talking from him. It was more of a request than a demand. He's been pretty submissive with her. He does always let her do anything with him and only does whatever she asks of him. She's in charge of him. 

She laughs gently before pulling her lips away from his. Her smile lingers. "Fuck, I think that just made me even wetter." 

Lloyd frowns again. "What'd he say?" 

She shakes his head, brushing off his question. "Not important." she pauses, her hands moving down to cup his face. He's just looking up at her with a small smile on his lips, waiting for her to ride him. It turns her on that he's submissive for her. "Now, where were we?" she asks.

Rolling her hips again against his while she sunks her soaked cunt into his cock even deeper, her ass slipping away from Lloyd. Before it could even fully pull away, he forces himself inside her hole and she lets out the loudest moan they've ever heard. Her mouth forms a big 'O' as she braces her hands against Six's shoulder while her fingers dig into his skin. She can feel both of their dicks inside of her touching each other through the small barrier and her walls clenched around both of their lengths. It's an overwhelming feeling but she loves it that she's so drunk on it. She can't even think anymore — in which she wanted.

Six can feel his shoulders start to bleed a 

little as her fingernails sink deeper. He may not like hurting her or giving her pain in bed, but he sure loves it when she does it to him. He likes it when she's rough with him. Because again, he's obedient. For her, only. That and he has a small pain kink. It's reasonable seeing as he experiences pain in every mission.

She lets out another moan as Lloyd keeps thrusting even quicker, making a repetitive clapping sound that echoes through the whole room and probably through the whole penthouse. She hopes the field agents downstairs don't hear this. The walls are pretty thin here. It's ridiculous considering how much it costs. 

Elle lets herself get closer to Six, leaning her cheek into his as she nibbles on his ear, softly. She moans softly into his ears, "I wish I could moan your real name, Six." she whispers, coming out as a breathy moan. She's too drunk on their dicks.

She has never said that before. Never even crossed her mind either. She knew it was off-limits. She's aware that he's a gray man. A sierra. He's a shadow. He can't be known to anyone else. Especially his real name. Even Lloyd has no idea about it. Because there is absolutely no intel on him. Everything about him had been erased and cleaned. He's no one now.

And as much as he leans onto her and trusts her with his life, he will never tell her his real name. He can't. He won't. 

But, she actually expected an answer. She thought that he could trust her enough with this in this sort-of vulnerable and intimate moment. It's not like she'll tell anyone. She has no one else but them. She just wanted the assurance that he does trust her enough with his deepest secret. 

She moved her head to look at him properly and his eyes met hers. He stares at her like nothing happened and she didn't ask him anything. But she did. She's sure that he heard her and he did. He just chose to not say anything. To not answer her. It's not about trust or vulnerability for him. It's about restricted and classified information that he strictly refuses to tell anyone at all. It's a rule from him. His old name meant his old life and old him. He isn't the same person anymore. He's a completely separate and different one.

"Did you hear me?" she asks in a whisper.

He frowns confusedly. "What'd you say?" Six asks in a whisper, pretending to be clueless. But he isn't. 

He lied. 

Reality snapped her back like a wind. She isn't drunk on them anymore or hazy or drowsy. She's completely aware and awake now. Of everything. It's all coming back to her due to him. The decision she has to make, the coping mechanism she's using and Six lying to her, for the very first time ever. She thinks that he doesn't trust her that much. She was wrong all this time. She feels so stupid to think that she was special to him since she's the first woman he's ever been so close with in a long period of time. But then she realized that it was all just for the god-damned mission. Everything is. She's just a weapon. That's all she is. And a sex doll, as of now. Has this been for the mission as well, fucking her? To ensure her focus on the mission? To take control of her? 

Her mind spirals over and over again until her head spins around.  

She feels sick. She can't even focus. She doesn't feel pleasure anymore. All she feels is hurt and disappointment and discomfort. She felt dissociated from reality. It all became vague and blurry and time became quicker for her as they continued to fuck her in different rhythms. Both men came inside her but she didn't. Not at all.

They pulled out quickly soon after and she didn't even bother to lay down on Lloyd's bed first. She immediately told them that she needed to clean up so she climbed out of the bed and exited his room, still naked. 

She doesn't feel used but she just feels dumb for thinking that sex would ever help her forget or fix her problems in the first place. It never did. She always does this. Even with her previous boyfriends. She used them for sex to help her forget everything. She never actually felt good or satisfied or better. 

It just made her realize how pathetic and stupid her coping mechanism was. This never was supposed to be one, it was supposed to be something special and intimate, for the first time in her life. 

But she was completely wrong. 

***

She'd been standing under her shower for hours as the cold water kept running through her.

She's been closing her eyes, holding her breath while the water drowns her like always. But this time, it's longer than she's ever held her breath before. 

It's probably almost midnight. Earlier, she could distinctly hear Six's footsteps entering his own room after she left earlier. She's a little glad that they didn't come here to check up on her.

She's not blaming them, though. It's not their fault that she felt uncomfortable in the middle of it earlier. It's her fault. She was spiraling in her head. Overthinking every single thing by herself. She's the problem in everyone's lives. It would be so much better for them if she didn't exist. 

She used to attempt to kill herself back then, after her parents abandoned her. She tried almost everything that she thought of. But she was invulnerable to literally anything. It was pointless. She could never die. Never end her suffering or herself.

Finally, she turns off the shower and steps out of it. She drys and wraps herself with the towel as she enters her room. She grabs an oversized thin, white shirt and her panties from her small couch in front of her bed. 

After putting her clothes on, she immediately jumps on her bed and collapses. She just wants to sleep this off. Forget about all this. She doesn't want to feel discomfort around them, she just wants to feel normal. 

That's all she ever wanted. 

*** 

Sleep didn't really take her over like she thought it would. 

She isn't used to sleeping alone anymore. There was always him beside her, comforting her to sleep. Sometimes, she didn't even need him to do anything, she just needed him to be there for her. 

But now he isn't. 

So she lays awake in her bed, staring at the midnight view of the city through her huge window next to her. It's extremely late already yet the city is still alive and wild. She could still see a damn traffic going on down there and a lot of people walking around.

Her mind starts to wonder about the sleeping pills that Lloyd offered her two weeks ago. She never took them. She's thinking about taking them now.  However, that would mean coming into his room and interacting with him. He would definitely ask some questions and interrogate her on why she's not sleeping beside Six like usual.

Though, he didn't even go into her room earlier. Now she begins to wonder again. Maybe he wanted some space for himself after all that. But perhaps, it also could've been because of her question that he avoided and pretended not to hear. He just feels very confused on what to do with her. He thought that this question would've never popped up. Now that it has, he can't answer her even knowing that she wanted a real answer. 

She gathers her courage before attempting to crawl out of her bed but stumbles her feet on the carpet on the floor. She curses softly, ignoring what just happened as she walks as slowly as possible to step out of her bedroom.

But right at the moment her hand was about to pull her door handle, she heard Six's bedroom gently open from across and then his footsteps approaching the kitchen. 

Shit. Not now. Fuck. 

She was trying to avoid him just like he was avoiding her question. She doesn't want to start an argument or a fight with him. He's not Lloyd. He won't fight back. It won't be much of an argument without the other one fighting back. And she just wants things to go back to normal with him. She likes having him with her. She could forget about all this and—

Yet, her mind is still itching for those answers. What is his real name? Why can't he tell her? Does he not trust her that much? Why doesn't she know anything about him until now? Why is he so closed off with her? Why did he pretend to not hear her before? Why can't he let himself fully trust her even though they've been together for three weeks? Does he prefer to just not say anything this whole time to avoid telling the truth so he's not exactly lying? Why would he do this to her knowing that she's scared of getting lied to and betrayed? 

So many questions in her head. Too many of them. It gives her a headache. Her head almost hurts just thinking about all these unanswered questions. Maybe, this was the reason why she couldn't fall asleep. 

Her hand finally pulls the door handle and exits her room without a thought. She needs answers or she's going to be crazy.

She stalks into the kitchen and sees Six in front of the fridge wide open. He's casually drinking a cold water bottle while leaning his ass on the countertop. He doesn't like to drink a lot of things except for water. He's very plain. She knew that. 

He noticed her approaching and his face softened. "Hey. Why are you still up?"

Is that even a question? The main reason she can't sleep is because of him. 

Elle stops to stand beside him, ignoring his question. She stares up at his eyes and just realizes how tall he is compared to herself. His eyes fall down to her body, trying really hard to not focus on the fact that she's only wearing her black panties and her thin shirt showing her nipples and her breast clearly. He's seen all of her but yet it still turns him on when he sees the slightest part of her like this. He never felt this way about anyone. He didn't used to like those things because he thought it was just a human body part 

"What was that?" she asks him, simple and short. Didn't want to get too emotional.

Six frowns, confusedly. Now he's forced to think about what she's talking about when she's almost half naked like this in front of him. He can't focus, for the very first time in his life.

"What was what, Elle?" he asks, his eyes still wandering her body. He's attempting to fight the urge in him to just pull her in and fuck her again right here. He's not impulsive, though. He's calculative of his every action. But he's making her think about being astray from how he is. 

She sighs. "I asked you a question. I know you heard me. I was whispering in your ear. There was no way that you did not hear me at all." Elle confronts him in a calm tone. She's trying to contain herself. She doesn't want to yell or get angry. Not with him. He doesn't deserve that. 

Oh. She's talking about that now. 

Six tips his head to the side, frowning. "You know I can't answer that question." he flatly replies. 

"Why not? You don't trust me?" she quickly accuses.

He shakes his head in denial. "It's not that. It's really not. I swear." he swears but he still can't tell her why and it's bugging her. She can't walk away without a single answer from him.

She huffs frustratedly, already tried of this.

"Then what is it? Tell me, Six—oh my god, you realize how ridiculous that sounded? We've been together for three whole weeks yet I don't even know your real name. I call you by a fucking number code nane made by the CIA but that's not you. You're not Six." She doesn't raise her voice but her words are sharp. 

He looks away from her before turning his eyes to her again. He subtly nods. "Yes, I am. I am Six." he coldly says. 

She frowns, shaking her head. "No. Stop. You're not. You're so much more than just a nameless agent who isn't supposed to exist." she sternly states. "You're not a gray man to me." Elle whispers the last part, ending up being a confession to him. 

He's really not. She doesn't see him as Sierra Six. She sees him for who he actually is inside because she got to know him these past weeks living with him. She doesn't judge him for what he does. She knew he didn't have much of a choice. She knows him better than anyone in this fucking world. That's why she's so confused as to why he doesn't trust her enough to know his real name. 

Her confession leaves him speechless as his heartbeat starts to pick up, swallowing thickly as his eyes drowsily look up at her face with pure desire. He never even thought that there would be a possibility of having someone like her in his life one day. She has no idea how grateful and appreciative he is of her. He thought he didn't deserve someone like her or to have the life they have right now. 

When he doesn't answer her at all, she scoffs gently and drifts her eyes from him to the living room beside them. She lets herself think for a moment. And she parts her lips as realization dawns on her. Her spiraling mind might just be right this time.

"Maybe, we went too fast. Maybe this was all a mistake." Elle softly said what it was on her mind just a second ago. Her eyes are still refusing to look at him so she could think clearly. 

And there it is. That fucking doubtful mind of hers. The only toxic thing about her. She over analyzes everything and then stresses out about it. She's not always right. She could be wrong, sometimes. But what she's saying right now doesn't even make sense. She's just very anxious. Six lying to her earlier piled up the problems in her head that she had to think about. It triggered her. She wanted to forget but then he brought her back to reality. 

Six furrows his brows, studying her as he takes a step forward to her while he closes the fridge door. "Don't say that. It's not true." he quietly says, shaking his head.

She finally looks at him again and scoffs softly, stepping forward. "But it is. I mean, we barely knew each other when we just decided to be…together or whatever this is." she waves her hand between them. "A day. One fucking day that it took us to make that instant decision. I didn't even know you, Six. I still don't." she snaps.

He shakes his head again. "No, you do. You know me better than anyone. I meant that, Elle." He does mean it. But it's not enough. Words are never enough. 

She sighs. "You know everything about me but I know nothing about you. Just that you're a classified assassin for the CIA and how you were in prison before you got recruited. That's it. I don't know anything about yourself." she sharply says, still not raising her voice. 

"You know enough." Six states, firmly.

She frowns, tilting her head to the side. "What? What does that mean?" she asks.

He lunges forward and closes the gap between them as he looks down at her with a soft look. "No one else knows this much about me but you. I wasn't supposed to do this. Not like this. Not with you. This was unexpected but I don't think it was a mistake." he explains, sincerely.

Elle looks down and he could tell that she's so tired. She looks exhausted and he's still not answering her question, not helping her at all. She knows he meant what he said but that still doesn't change anything. She just knows parts of him that he let her know. Small tiny parts. Not the whole of it. 

"What's your name, Six?" she repeats her question, her eyes glaring back up at him.

Six gulps nervously, suddenly turning his eyes from her. He doesn't have an answer for her. There are also no other words that he could say to stop her from questioning him and forgetting this. She needs a direct answer. Not anything else. He knows that. 

"I can't give it to you." he hardly says, his voice so low and his tone is soft. 

She nods, scoffing while she steps away from him. "Yeah, okay. I'm gonna go to bed because I haven't slept since earlier. Also, I didn't come. I couldn't think at all after you ignored me. You may not lie to my face, but you just chose to not say anything, to be quiet. It's just the same, Six." Elle snaps, her voice still low but her disappointment is visible through her words. 

She's hurt. Again. Not exactly surprised. She always gets hurt, no matter what. She was just stupid enough to think that this time would be different. It's not. 

Six sighs softly, his eyes observing her. He's a little taken back by the fact that she didn't come. Because he's always made her come. Every single time. There is not a time when he didn't. Even when they fell asleep while doing it, she still came before she slept. They both did. He always made sure she did first. But this time, he didn't. He wasn't too focused on her earlier. He thought that she was enjoying it as much as he did. He usually checked up on her every second. 

Now, he feels bad. He actually feels real pity and guilt. Something he's never actually felt before in his life. There's something else too in this emotion of his. He cares so much for her that he can't stand to see her like this, hurt. Because of him and there's nothing to do to help her.

"Elle, let me help you sleep. It's the least I can do—" Six tries to offer softly.

She cuts him off. "No, I'm good. The least you could do was tell me the truth." she retorts, harshly but at least she's honest. 

He doesn't say anything. He has no words to say anymore to make her feel better, that isn't going to be a lie. She just wants the truth. Though it's really not that simple for him. 

He lets her walk away from him and he watches her slowly disappear into the hallway. Meanwhile, he just stands there as he contemplates on what he's just done to her. He wasted the one thing good in his life that wouldn't come twice. He knew that sooner or later this would happen anyway. Nothing good ever lasts in his life. 

While walking back to her room, her eyes turn to Lloyd's room. She knows there's no other way for her to sleep without someone beside her or without those sleeping pills he talked about. She needs him right now. Not Six anymore.

Without thinking twice, she turns around and steps towards his room. She doesn't knock. She just slowly but softly opened his door, making sure not to startle him. She can hear his stable heartbeat and his quiet snoring. He snores a lot. She knew that because of how many times she’s heard him snore distinctly from her room every night. 

She let herself inside his bedroom, gently closing the door behind her. Walking to his bed, her eyes examine Lloyd asleep and comfortable as she just realizes that he’s sleeping naked. He’s covered in his cozy, white blanket. She crouched down on him and got near his face.

“Lloyd. It’s Elle.” she whispers to him, slowly sitting down on the extra space next to him.

She waits for him to wake up, but he doesn’t. She forgot that he isn’t a light sleeper like Six is. He’s different. 

Her hands carefully reach out to his hair blocking his face as she brushes it aside. Her soft fingers caress his skin and she studies him. She's never been this closed up before. Not in a calm situation like this where he's asleep. 

"Lloyd. I need you." she slightly increases her voice. 

Finally, he stirs in his sleep and moves his body to her direction. He opens his eyes slowly and sleepily looks up at her. It takes a minute for him to register what's going on and to digest that she's in his room right now. He thought he was dreaming.

He frowns slightly. "What are you doing here?" Lloyd asks in a weak whisper. 

She parts her lips and runs her hands through her hair. "I couldn't sleep. Um, where are those sleeping pills you told me about? I need them. And you, I guess." she demands softly.

He blinks confusedly. "What happened with Six? I mean, is he okay?" he genuinely asks her in a soft whisper. 

She nods. "He is. We just had a little argument. Can I sleep here? With you?" she desperately asks in a begging tone.

Lloyd just weakly hums in response before gently pulling her into the bed while he scoots over to leave space for her and spreads his blanket on her too. She lays down with her back faced to his naked chest and his arms wrapped around her body. 

Elle looks at him from behind. "Pills?" 

"Drawer. Blue bottle. Take five." he answers, sleepily before closing his eyes again.

She reaches her arm out to the nightstand beside them and opens the drawer with her hand. Without even looking, she grabs the bottle of pills from it and takes it out before closing the drawer. 

Slowly, she sits up from her position and manages to remove Lloyd's hands from her. Opening the cap, she pours five pills onto her hand and swallows it all without any water. 

She puts down the bottle back on his nightstand. Laying back down on the bed, she takes his hands and places them around her body. She leans into his touch and slowly relaxes, already feeling the little effects of the pill. She'll take what she can get even if it's just a tiny amount. 

"Feeling sleepy already?" he asks her, opening one of his eyes.  

She gently shakes her head. "Not yet. A little bit more relaxed, though." she replies.

Lloyd hums. "Told you." he whispers.

She nods, moving down to kiss his hand. "Thank you. For this." she thanks him.

Lloyd fully opens both of his eyes. "What happened? With Six and you?" he softly asks. 

"I'll tell you tomorrow morning. For now, I'd really just like to fall asleep." she tells him. 

"Okay. Night." he murmurs faintly before closing his eyes again, shifting to sleep.

She closes her eyes, pushing herself closer onto him as their skins clung into each other again like earlier. She could feel all of him against her back. He's completely naked and vulnerable now. He let her sleep with him. He's never done this with anyone before because he liked his personal space. He didn't like sharing it. But with her, he doesn't mind.

This wasn't supposed to be like this tonight. They wanted to take things slow and not immediately jump right into sleeping on one bed together. But because of her small fight with Six, it brought both Lloyd and her closer. Somehow.

Apparently, their fight had a little benefit to it. 

***

They've slept for what felt like a few hours. 

Until Lloyd's phone had rang a million of times beside his nightstand and he had to eventually pick it up.

It was Denny, telling him that some of the dealers from the drug ring they had caught yesterday, escaped from prison and is currently robbing the nearest hospital while taking all of them hostage. Patients, nurses, doctors, surgeons, anyone who stayed the night in the hospital. The local police can't fix this. Only she could. 

It is still four fucking am in the morning. This is complete torture. For all of them. 

Elle groaned from the bed, not wanting to get up at all while he kept trying to wake her up and tell her what's going on.

"We need to do this. It's our mess. We need to fix it ourselves." Lloyd says responsibly as he quickly puts on his clothes beside the bed. 

He had thrown her some of her clothes that he randomly grabbed from her closet earlier. It was some black leggings and her thin pink sweater which he knew was her usual favorite one. It's right beside her on the bed now. 

He leans down on her face. "Elle, get up. There are hostages inside that damn hospital. You'll kill me if you find out that I let you sleep this off." he makes a point, raising his voice to wake her up more. 

She shoots her eyes open and he sighs in relief. "What happened again?" she asks, their faces an inch apart. 

"Those dealers that you caught yesterday, busted out of jail and they're robbing the hospital now. Holding a bunch of hostages. It's our job to fix it since we caught them in the first place." Lloyd explains to her.

"Wait. What hospital?" Elle asks, getting up from the bed as she starts to casually undress in front of him. She grabs the clothes next to her and quickly puts them on her. 

He steps back from her to give her space. "The nearest one. You went there a few weeks ago with Six, I think." he tells her.

She nods before realizing something. "What? That's the hospital my best friend works at. She…she's still there. She always works until the morning." she realizes and she's all dressed now, facing him with anxious eyes. He saw that in her eyes almost immediately.

Lloyd sighs, stepping closer to her and her eyes look up at his. "Hey, don't let that compromise you, okay? We'll get there and you focus on catching them. Alive or not." he firmly tells her in a soft tone.

Her eyes widened. She just woke up and she's already panicking. "What? No. I haven't—" she nervously starts.

He cuts her off. "We don't have the time to wait for your decision, Elle. You need to do what you have to do right now. We'll get the hostages. Don't focus on them. Focus on those idiots." he sets it straight for her. 

Six enters his bedroom hesitantly after he hears her voice but he had to come in anyway. "Hey. Are we going to go downstairs to prep?" he asks him casually.

She turns around to him and says nothing, just looks down. He does too. They don't have anything to say to each other anymore and their eyes refuse to look at the other. They need to focus on this mission instead.

Lloyd glances at both of them, knowing that they had a fight a few hours ago. He looks over at Six and nods. "Yeah. After that, we'll leave immediately. We're bringing the rest with us, too." he informs.

Elle turns to him. "Okay, then. Let's go." she announces and they all walk out of there.

***

They're all gathered together in the first floor of the penthouse, listening to Lloyd's instructions while the agents prep all of their weapons. 

"Alright, listen up. Main priority is those fucking guys. Elle catches them while we get the hostages out there, safely. We need to be discreet as well. The local police are swarming the area." Lloyd orders everyone as they all nod their heads.

"And what if we get them before she does?" One of the field agents challenges her while giving her a bitter look.

She knows none of them have really liked her since the beginning. She's the most valuable weapon to the CIA and she gets to do anything she wants because of it. She gets a free pass while everyone else has to follow the rules. But that isn't true. She doesn't do whatever she wants. She still obeys every order she's given. They only think that way due to what happened in that lab and how her crimes were all just forgotten. 

They only follow Lloyd and Six. Maybe because they're all men and those two men have quite a reputation in the agency. So they're scared of them and idolizes them, too. 

Six looks over at the agent, giving him the side eye and so does Lloyd. They clench their jaws, not wanting to get violent on how this man talks about their girl. She could blow his head off in a second. 

She frowns confusedly at him, tipping her head to the side. "Well, then good for you? This isn't a competition. This is an emergency mission. But saving the hostages has to be the main priority. They're just innocents. Mostly are sick people." Elle declares, looking over at Lloyd to tell them. 

He turns to her and nods. "Yeah, she's right. Save the hostages first, no matter what. And if we weren't in such a hurry, I'd shoot you just for the way you talked about her. Mind your fucking mouth." Lloyd scolds the agent, his index finger pointing at me and he nods, looking down. 

She glances at him and she wishes she could smile at him right for how he defends her. He usually doesn't. He heard a bunch of whispers about her but never did anything. She understands why. He can't make it seem too obvious about their relationship or whatsoever. It's not exactly allowed in the CIA. But they're not officers. They're both valuable assets. They could do whatever they like. 

"Alright. Can we go now?" Elle asks him.

Lloyd nods at her. "Yeah. Let's move." he announces loudly to everyone before they all do what they're told.

All the agents left to go to the elevator first before Lloyd, Six and Elle take the next one. The guys bring their chosen weapon with them along with a bulletproof vest attached onto their body already. They're both behind her, like always. She anxiously stares up at the numbers of levels, impatiently. 

As the three are all inside the elevator, waiting for it to go down as usual, Six suddenly reaches out to her arm. She turns around to him with a confused look.

"Hey, I know we haven't quite resolved our problem yet but…be careful out there. This mission seems risky. We didn't have a lot of time to prepare like usual. I have a bad feeling about it." Six softly admits to her. 

She slowly nods. "I will. You too." 

Lloyd shortly looks at both of them. They both care for each other even when they're still fighting. It's such a deep connection and bond that they have. It's so rare. 

"I agree. Be safe. I know I said catching them was the main priority but if you saw something was off, get the fuck out of there immediately." he suggests. 

She simply nods at them, thinking that this would be easy for her. Nothing will go wrong.

*** 

Perhaps, Six was a little right. 

A mission this dangerous and haste is way too unpredictable to prevent anything that could go wrong. No preparations, no proper plans and no safe extractions. It was bound to fail. 

Because it did fail. 

She had made a quick plan to break one of the doors at the back entrance, leading to the emergency room which was completely empty already. Surprisingly. 

She ordered the agents to save the hostages who were all held up in the lobby. They climbed through the window and went in. Yet, there was only one man who was with the hostages. They didn't know where the rest were. It was supposed to be three men. 

Lloyd and Six cautiously followed her from behind but she stayed far ahead of them, making sure that the threat wouldn't attack them first. But she isn't as good as them, in terms of ambushing the enemy and staying alert. 

It was a horrible mistake. A terrible error. 

The armed dealers already had their guns in their hands, ready to shoot whoever was coming. She had heard them but she wasn't quick enough to attack first. 

She was the first who got in front of them so they shot her. Continuously and non-stop. Until all their bullets had run out. 

She collapsed on the floor. There were way too many bullets inside of her. She was in so much pain to the point that she couldn't even feel anything anymore. It began to be all muffled and distinct for her. The world suddenly felt unreal to her. 

She closed her eyes. She didn't want to feel this kind of pain anymore. She just wanted it to all go away. 

Six's first instinct was to shoot those two men, calculatively till they dropped dead. Lloyd's instinct was…well, he was completely frozen while watching her dying body on the ground.

There was no other hope for her. She was dying. She was unsalvageable.